#and i know it’s not a healthy way to live but i don’t know how to get out of it so i’m always just distracting myself

[p0orbaby]

All I Want for Christmas

summary: your daughter didn’t get the one present she really wanted

warnings: none !

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope you like it !

word count: 2.9k

-

You notice something’s off with Eliana two days after Christmas. At first, it’s subtle—an anomaly so slight it could almost be chalked up to post-holiday fatigue. Normally, mornings with Eliana are chaotic in a way that feels both exhausting and oddly necessary, as though the house depends on her noise to keep it from crumbling into silence. She bursts into the day like a firework: her small feet slapping against the wood floors, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her voice ricocheting between pitches as she narrates her life in real time or belts out whatever song has recently embedded itself in her psyche.

Today, there’s none of that. She lingers in her pyjamas—a pair with faded unicorns that she refuses to let you throw away despite the fraying cuffs—long after breakfast. When you remind her to brush her teeth, she drags her feet, her movements lethargic in a way that feels rehearsed, like she’s trying to stretch each step into eternity. It’s the absence of urgency that unsettles you. Eliana thrives on urgency. She once cried because Alexia beat her to the front door when the postman rang.

But this morning, there’s no competition. No noise. No off-key rendition of Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo echoing from the bathroom as she “forgets” to spit out her toothpaste. You’re struck by how quiet the house feels. Not peaceful—just wrong.

By lunch, the feeling hardens into certainty. Eliana picks at her sandwich with the detached precision of someone performing a task they’ve been paid to complete. She peels the crust away slowly, meticulously, her small fingers working like a jeweller inspecting a flawed diamond. The crust sits in a neat pile beside her plate, untouched. So do the carrot sticks you’ve artfully arranged into a star shape—an attempt to disguise healthy food as something fun. Usually, she’d at least nibble on the points before declaring them “too crunchy.” Today, she doesn’t even bother with the charade.

And then there’s the Coke. You could write a thesis on Eliana’s Coke-stealing habits. How she waits, biding her time like a cat stalking prey, until you’re sufficiently distracted—mid-sentence, mid-bite, mid-thought. The moment your guard drops, she strikes: clutching the can with both hands, her face breaking into a grin so triumphant it’s impossible to be mad. You always let her have one sip, though you draw the line at more. She doesn’t push her luck; she knows where the boundary is and takes satisfaction in skirting it.

But today, the Coke sits untouched. You leave it on the table deliberately, watching her from the corner of your eye, waiting for the familiar rustle of movement. It doesn’t come. She doesn’t even glance at it.

Alexia notices it too. She’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the cutting board she insists on hand-washing because the dishwasher “ruins the wood” (a claim you’ve never verified but don’t argue against). “She’s been quiet today,” Alexia murmurs, glancing towards the living room. Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

You follow her gaze. Eliana is curled up on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on top of them. The TV plays some saccharine animated film about magical snowmen and plucky penguins—one of those films where everything sparkles unnaturally, and the characters blink too often. Normally, Eliana would be transfixed, laughing at all the wrong parts and narrating the plot aloud despite everyone already watching. But today, she’s motionless. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, as though the screen is a window to a world she can’t quite enter.

“Maybe she’s tired,” you say, though you don’t believe it. Eliana doesn’t do tired. Even as a baby, she fought sleep like it was a personal enemy, crying herself hoarse rather than admit defeat. Sleep was a battle you rarely won outright; most nights, you settled for a stalemate.

Alexia doesn’t look convinced either. She dries her hands on a dishtowel, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” she says. “This isn’t like her”

It isn’t. And that terrifies you in a way you can’t fully articulate. You watch her from the kitchen doorway, your hand resting lightly on the frame, as though bracing yourself against an invisible weight. She looks small. Fragile. The kind of fragile that makes you want to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her from the world.

But it’s not her size that unnerves you—it’s the silence. Eliana’s silence feels like an absence, like something crucial has been taken away without your permission. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, though you don’t know what.

And that, more than anything, is what scares you.

-

You get your answer that evening, during bedtime. Eliana’s room is a testament to her devotion to pink—a monochromatic sanctuary where even the air seems tinged with a rosy hue. The walls are painted a soft blush, a decision you regretted halfway through applying the third coat but one you could never take back once she saw the finished product and declared it “princess perfect.” Her duvet cover is a riot of pastel stars, most faded from repeated wash cycles and the occasional chocolate milk spill. On her bedside table sits a lamp with a shade adorned with tiny ballerinas, their poses forever frozen mid-pirouette.

The bookshelves, crammed to the edges, are an organised chaos of her literary life. Picture books dominate the lower shelves—familiar titles with tattered spines that you could recite in your sleep (Guess How Much I Love You has practically become your mantra). Higher up, a collection of chapter books gathers dust, ambitious purchases she insisted on during a trip to the bookstore, her eyes wide with determination. She struggles with the longer words but refuses to ask for help, insisting on piecing together syllables with the kind of stubborn grit that feels both infuriating and endearing. She gets that from you.

You tuck her in with the practised efficiency of someone who has made a ritual out of bedtime. She clutches Mr Snuggles, a stuffed rabbit so battered it looks like it’s survived a war zone. He’s missing an eye, his fur matted beyond recognition, but to Eliana, he’s irreplaceable. You know this because you’ve tried to replace him—multiple times, in fact. You’ve scoured boutique toy stores, online shops, and even eBay, searching for a plush rabbit with vaguely similar dimensions. Each attempt has been met with disdain. “It’s not him,” she always says, clutching Mr Snuggles tighter as though you’d threatened to take him away permanently.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. Her hair has reached that awkward in-between length where it’s too long to leave unchecked but too short to do anything meaningful with. She hates the hairdressers, the stiff capes they drape over her, and the stylist’s endless chatter about her favourite Disney princess. You’ll have to bribe her with ice cream to get her there.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifts upwards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it holds the answer to some unspoken question. Her fingers tighten around Mr Snuggles, her thumb absently stroking the spot where his eye used to be. Finally, she speaks.

“Santa didn’t bring me what I wanted”

Your stomach twists in the way it does when you know something is wrong, but you can’t yet identify what. “What do you mean?” you ask, keeping your tone light. “He brought you loads of things. That dollhouse you’ve been asking for since May, the colouring set with the glitter pens—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice soft but resolute. “I wanted a sister”

You blink. “You wanted what?”

“A sister,” she repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he didn’t bring me one”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Your brain cycles through a series of fragmented thoughts: What? When? How? You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Alexia to materialise in the doorway, her presence offering a lifeline. But the hallway is empty, save for the faint hum of the washing machine on its spin cycle. You’re on your own.

“When… when did you ask Santa for a sister?” you manage, your voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face.

“At school,” she says matter-of-factly. “We wrote letters. Miss García said we could ask for anything we wanted”

“And you asked for a sister?”

She nods, her expression solemn in the way only a six-year-old can manage when they think they’ve been wronged.

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me? Or Mamá?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise”

You press your fingers to your temples, as if physically holding your head together will help you process what you’re hearing. A surprise. Of course. Eliana watches you with wide eyes, her expression expectant. It dawns on you that she’s waiting for an explanation.

“Well,” you begin, your words slow and deliberate, as though carefully navigating a minefield, “Santa doesn’t… bring people as presents”

“Why not?”

Because it’s illegal. Because Santa isn’t real. Because your wife and I can barely handle the one child we already have.

“Because,” you say instead, stalling, “that’s not how it works. Sisters are… different. You don’t get them from Santa”

Her brow furrows, and for a moment, she looks startlingly like Alexia—her small face drawn into a frown of concentration, as though dissecting your words for hidden meaning. “Then where do they come from?”

You pause, the weight of the question settling over you like a heavy blanket. There are a dozen ways you could answer this, most of them wildly inappropriate for a six-year-old. You settle on, “From Parents, sweetheart”

She considers this for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side. “So can you and Mamá make me one?”

The question hangs in the air, absurd and sincere in equal measure. You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “It’s not that simple, Eliana”

“Why not?”

Before you can answer, Alexia appears in the doorway, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her face flushed from the effort of folding laundry. She takes one look at your face, at the strained expression and the faint sheen of panic in your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

-

Later that night, after Eliana is finally asleep, you and Alexia sit in the living room, letting the weight of the day settle over you. The room is dim except for the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, blinking lazily in alternating patterns. The air smells faintly of pine needles and the remnants of the vanilla candle Alexia lit hours ago but forgot to blow out. There’s an almost sacred stillness in the house, the kind that feels rare and precious when you have a six-year-old.

Alexia hands you a glass of wine, her fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary. She sits beside you on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and pulling a blanket over both of your laps. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie—yours, you think, judging by the way the sleeves swallow her hands—and a pair of faded joggers. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves around her face, and there’s a faint smudge of mascara beneath one eye that she hasn’t bothered to wipe off.

She looks tired but beautiful, the kind of beauty that feels effortless and intimate, like a secret only you’re privy to. It makes your chest ache in a way you don’t entirely understand.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “our daughter asked Santa for a sister”

You exhale, shaking your head as you take a sip of wine. It’s red, something bold and expensive that Alexia brought home last week. She has a knack for choosing good wine, even though she always claims it’s pure luck. “She did”

“And she’s heartbroken Santa didn’t deliver,” Alexia adds, her tone half-amused, half-disbelieving.

“She is,” you say, setting your glass on the coffee table. The table itself is covered in the detritus of Christmas: an abandoned roll of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and the instructions for the dollhouse you spent three hours assembling on Christmas Eve while Alexia supervised with a glass of champagne in hand.

Alexia leans back, stretching her legs across your lap. Her socked feet are warm against your thigh, and she wiggles her toes absently as she looks at you. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice light, as if she’s testing the waters.

“About Eliana asking for a sister?”

“No,” she says, her lips twitching into a small smile. “About giving her one”

You laugh, a short, sharp sound that feels more defensive than amused. “You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat, incredulous. “Because we barely survived the first time around. Do you not remember the colic? The sleepless nights? The time she screamed for three hours straight because she didn’t like the colour of her bib?”

Alexia tilts her head, as if genuinely considering your words. “She was a baby. That’s what babies do”

“Exactly. And you want to do it all over again?”

Her smile widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes now. “Maybe”

You groan, leaning your head back against the sofa. “You’re insane”

“I’m not,” she insists, nudging your thigh with her foot. “Think about it. Eliana’s older now. She’s more independent. She’s in school most of the day. We’re not in the trenches anymore”

“The trenches,” you mutter, reaching for your wine again.

Alexia shifts closer, her foot still resting against your thigh. “I loved it, you know. All of it. Even the hard parts”

“You loved it?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I loved being a mum to a newborn. Watching her grow, seeing all the little things she learned every day. It was… magical”

You glance at her, and the soft, wistful expression on her face makes something inside you twist.

“And you,” she continues, her voice lowering slightly, “you were amazing”

“Alexia,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone.

“I’m serious,” she says, her hand finding yours beneath the blanket. Her fingers are warm, her grip gentle but insistent. “You were. You still are. And when you were pregnant…”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She grins, her teeth catching the light. “You were insatiable”

“Oh, for God’s sake”

“It’s true,” she says, laughing now. “I could barely keep up with you”

“You managed,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine.

Her laughter fades into a softer, more thoughtful smile. “I’m just saying,” she says, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again”

You study her, trying to discern if she’s really serious or just testing the waters. But there’s something in her eyes, a quiet certainty that unnerves you.

“You really want another baby,” you say, not quite a question.

She nods. “I do”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?”

She shrugs, looking faintly sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was waiting for the right moment”

“Like now? After our daughter guilt-tripped us with her Santa request?”

Alexia laughs, and the sound is warm and infectious. “Exactly”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable”

“I’m practical,” she counters. “Think about it. We can afford it. We have the space. The time. A great support system. Mami would love to help us out again”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to tell her we’re thinking about having another baby? You know she’ll start knitting booties the second the words leave your mouth”

Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “Let her. Eliana would love matching booties for her and her sibling”

The image of Eliana holding a tiny, wriggling baby flashes in your mind, unbidden. It’s too cute, too perfect, and you push it away before it can take root.

“It’s not just about logistics,” you say quietly.

“I know,” Alexia says, her voice softening. “But we’ve done this before. We know what to expect now. And we’re not the same people we were back then. We’re stronger. Better”

You glance at her, at the quiet confidence in her expression, and feel a pang of guilt for doubting her. She’s right, of course. You’ve come so far since those early days with Eliana. But still, the thought of starting over feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know,” you say finally. “It’s a lot to think about”

Alexia nods, her thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of your hand. “I’m not asking for a decision tonight. Just… think about it”

You nod, letting your head rest against her shoulder. The wineglass dangles from your fingers, forgotten. The weight of her hand on yours, the steady rise and fall of her breath, grounds you.

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then Alexia speaks again, her voice so soft you almost don’t hear her.

“She’d be a great big sister,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

You close your eyes, letting the words settle over you. In your mind’s eye, you see Eliana again, her wide, hopeful eyes as she clutched Mr Snuggles to her chest. You see her laughing, running through the park with a smaller version of herself trailing behind her.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “She would”

[mossangelll]

HII HOW R U?? I was wondering if u could make a yandere caitvi x reader(like a poly relationship). Just headcannons if u like!! I really love ur postss💗💗

Yandere!Caitvi x Reader Headcanons

i’m great, tysm for requesting! sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this ^^

i was gonna add a section on how they kidnap you (figured i’d use it for a different fic) and an nsfw section but i didn’t know if anyone wanted that so i skipped it this time

HOW THEY MEET YOU

ok so vi is the one who notices you first - at first, you’re just another person who blends into the crowd at her fights

but then she begins to see you at every single fight of hers without fail, always with a huge handmade sign that says something like “step on ME, vi” or “vi, you’re the BEST!”

she thinks it’s endearing how someone like you, so unassuming and cute, is hanging around shady dens like this just to support her

you manage to catch her at the bar after one of her fights and you two strike up an unlikely friendship

she starts to fall head over heels for you - you don’t seem to care or even notice that she’s a mess

in fact, you’re hellbent on fixing her and she can’t help but have massive heart eyes at this point even though she’d normally find something like this demeaning (she doesn’t need to be saved!)

all her life, she’s chased after the people she loved and prioritised their well-being and now someone’s finally doing the same for her

you make her feel so seen at a time in her life when she feels incredibly lost and worthless

however it’s at this point vi leaves the fighting scene and reconnects with cait - you gave her the strength to do so

vi always feels guilty about this but you’re always in the back of her mind, a hopeful what if to ponder on the lonely nights after a lover’s quarrel with cait

so it’s nothing short of serendipity when cait starts to come home later and later, talking about a new recruit who has potential that needs to be nurtured and look at that - it’s you

cait knows she needs to be faithful to vi, she would never dream of going behind her back, but she’s drawn to you in a way that simultaneously confuses her and excites her

she becomes your mentor and sees parts of herself in you and that just makes her obsession infatuation that much worse

cait blurs the line between appropriate behaviour between a subordinate and their junior; she shows up at your door randomly for a “work assignment” and pries into the private details of your love life

if she finds out you’re dating someone or interested in someone other than her, your work life becomes a living nightmare

you’ll constantly be admonished for the tiniest infractions simply because she’s wants you all to herself and doesn’t know how to express her emotions in a healthy way

vi can’t even find it in herself to be jealous when she sees the lustre in cait’s blue eyes, one that’s only reserved for her, starts to come out whenever she’s around you but she does feel left out, after all, vi found you first

the two end up having a conversation and realise that they can’t live without you in their lives - all to themselves, that is

OK TIME FOR WHAT THEY’RE LIKE IN A RELATIONSHIP

honestly i think vi is the one you can wrap around your pinkie finger - she has such a soft spot for the people she loves and she’s not afraid of making it known

you want more treats? she’ll sneak them in

you want to go outside? ok, but vi is handcuffing you to her and you can only stay out for five minutes

surprisingly she respects your boundaries and tries not to be overly affectionate with you when you don’t want to be, even if it kills her inside

don’t think you can ask to talk to family and friends though, that’s completely off-limits and you will see a sadistic side to vi she doesn’t normally let out

i imagine her punishments would be something to the effect of her saying extremely cruel and upsetting things to you to remind you of your place

she would also be into physical punishments like spanking but not anything that could really hurt you - she would have a breakdown if she hurt you to the point of serious injury and would never forgive herself

cait on the other hand is essentially the “bad cop” in this scenario, it’s not that she doesn’t love you, in fact i would say she’s probably more obsessed than vi is, it’s that she doesn’t want to risk anything bad happening to you whatsoever

she went lax on punishing zaunites and it ended up with her mother dead - she’s not taking any risks when it comes to you

it harder to tell with cait but she does try to show her affection, it’s just not as obvious as the way she acts to vi

she does like to be physically affectionate with you more than vi does but this too is very subtle

she likes to make these actions seem like a necessity when really it’s for her own satisfaction

e.g. she’ll hold you hand and profess it’s because “you might fall over” even though you can see the faint blush on her cheeks - you’re both aware it’s a terrible lie but are equally too embarrassed to mention it

like in my other work, her shows of affection come from giving you books, painting lessons and expensive clothes, etc. - she wants to nurture your talents and expose you to the finer things in life that you’ve missed out on

she lowkey has a superiority complex when it comes to this lmao but i think she does it all to mask her deep insecurities

she doesn’t want to seem weak in front of her darling

her punishments are more harsh. i feel like she would put you in isolation and leave you hungry if you refuse to abide by her or vi’s rules

i hc that this stems from her childhood; her mother would withhold affection (maybe not to this extent) whenever she misbehaved and this way of thinking carried over to adulthood

this means that caitlyn and vi do tend to argue over what they think is best for you and it lowkey gives divorced parents energy - they’re constantly trying to prove themselves right

it’s a very volatile environment to be in

imo this is kinda cait and vi’s way of flirting too 😭 in the aftermath they look back on it like ‘awww she cares so much about our darling she’s willing to fight over them - so cute!’

their relationship stays mostly the same as it was before just a lil more intense

they’d both be yandere for each other, it just manifests a lot more strongly with you

like, they know they can look after themselves but you’re so weak they need to go above and beyond to ensure their most precious darling is safe

they both plan detailed daily routines for you and you’re micromanaged down to the smallest details: how long you can sleep for, the food you eat, the exercises you do, the clothes you wear, the people you can interact with

in my mind, this takes place at the end of s2 so you live with them in cait’s mansion - they’ve both experienced a LOT of trauma which contributes to them developing a codependent relationship and having to drag someone else into their mess

it’s definitely a stifling relationship and it feels like you’re never truly alone, if for some reason they can’t be there with you there’ll always be a trusted maid or enforcer keeping tabs on you

omg wait they definitely give you a diary and say it’s private but at the end of the night they’ll read through it to see if you’re planning anything they wouldn’t agree with

cait came up with the idea and vi thinks it’s a violation of your privacy but she goes along with it anyway

would never admit it but secretly it’s her favourite time of the day (if she respects your physical boundaries, she’s gotta break some other boundaries - give her a break!)

they just want to patch up the pain they feel from all the losses they’ve had to deal with and unfortunately for you, you’re their bandages

masterlist

[richarlotte]

Modern Helen of Troy.

Delete the apps, and if you’re not willing to, PAUSE YOUR PROFILE. It’s too much; it’s exhausting, and chasing approval or attention on dating and hookup apps will tire you out faster than anything else. When I was on Hinge and Bumble, I was spiritually exhausted, and the best thing I did for myself was delete my profiles and focus on myself and the real world. Having a clean slate, clearing out your inbox and your conversations, and not having strangers barking at your door to be let in will help you rest. If you decide you can handle the apps or you want to have them, take your time and don’t agonize over the outcome.

 

You need to be in the gym or exercising 3 days weekly; my life became infinitely better when I had a workout routine, and moving my body helped alleviate so much of my tension and anxiety. 10,000 steps, proper meals, hydrating, and enjoying caring for my body helped change the way I viewed myself. A lot of people start working out, go hardcore with 7 days a week and intense cardio, and burn out fast. You don’t need to do that to be healthy or look good; a routine as simple as three days of the week and a consistent effort will get you right in no time at all. Consistency and a routine are what will win the race, not everything at first and then nothing at all.

 

You should work on maintaining friendships with people who uplift you and who you uplift in return. Your friends and partners can make the hardest times feel heavenly if they’re the right people; you must choose your friends wisely and then work on bettering and strengthening your relationships with each of them in 2025. In order to succeed, you need to have people around you, and you need to be willing to meet more people; you should be doing more and trying to experience more life, and you should be taking advantage of your youth. I wouldn’t have been able to come as far as I have without the help of my friends, and while isolation felt good to me at one point, loneliness is a beast one can’t battle alone.

 

Education is another essential thing to be focusing on throughout 2025, especially due to the period of time we’re living in. 2025 is all about improving our media literacy, getting diplomas and certifications, reading and writing more, becoming more articulate, learning more languages, and taking the time to relearn how to love learning. You are doing yourself a major disservice if you’re not keeping your mind sharp, learning new things, learning how to identify misinformation, and working on building up an understanding of the world around you. We as human beings were meant for lifelong learning, and if you’re not already doing something to sharpen your mind, now’s the perfect time to choose something fresh and get started.

 

2025 is also the time to work on gaining your independence, no matter your age. If you don’t know how to swim, don’t have your license, can’t ride a bike, don’t have a passport, don’t have a bank account, have never paid a bill, don’t know how to take public transit, or anything similar, now’s the time to get going. I read a great quote here on Tumblr about how you have to choose to wake up one day and take your independence, and I believe in it. Now is the perfect time to just start doing what needs to be done and learning along the way; you don’t need to be an expert, and you should feel no shame if you’re older and learning something new; you just need to be able to steer your ship out of troubled water if needed.

Richarlotte x

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 1: Bad Influences

Elliot had always been the skinny guy. At 23, he was tall and lean, with a metabolism that seemed to burn through food like it was nothing. He didn’t work out obsessively or follow any strict diet. It was just the way he was. His friends liked to joke that he could eat an entire pizza and still fit into his skinny jeans the next day, and for the most part, it was true. He liked being that way—easy, effortless, and always confident in his own skin.

When Elliot moved to the city for a new job, he quickly realized that finding an apartment he could afford on his own was next to impossible. After a couple of weeks, he found a shared apartment close to work and agreed to room with two guys, both of whom were a bit older than him. The rent was cheaper, and it seemed like a good deal.

The first time he met his new roommates, he was a little surprised. They were both big guys, especially compared to him. There was Ryan, with his thick arms and broad chest, wearing a band t-shirt and cargo shorts, and then there was Mark, who was tall but with a soft roundness to him that suggested he enjoyed a few too many late-night snacks. They both had warm, easy-going personalities that immediately put Elliot at ease. 

“Hey man, welcome!” Ryan said with a smile, slapping him on the back as they shook hands. 

Mark, with a lazy grin, handed him a plate of brownies. “We’ve got more where that came from,” he joked, “but don't feel obligated to eat them... unless you're hungry.”

Elliot laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. He accepted a brownie and followed them inside. The apartment was cozy, decorated with posters of classic rock bands and sports teams. It was clear they had lived there for a while, and it felt like their space. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the size of the couch or the wide kitchen table that always seemed to be piled high with food containers.

Over the next few days, he got into a routine. He worked long hours and spent most evenings in his room, catching up on emails or watching shows online. He didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Ryan and Mark, but he did notice how much they loved to cook and eat together. It was always pizza night, or they’d whip up something hearty in the kitchen, from massive pots of spaghetti to giant meatloaves. 

Elliot, by contrast, usually grabbed something light—a salad or a protein bar—when he wasn’t too busy. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d politely decline when they offered him a plate of whatever they were eating, not wanting to come off as rude or judgmental. 

One night, after Ryan made his signature homemade lasagna, he turned to Elliot. “Hey, man, you’re gonna eat with us, right?”

Elliot froze. He had been about to grab a salad, but he didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding them. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks, though. I just ate earlier.”

Mark, who was lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? This is *the* lasagna, Elliot. Don’t want you to miss out on it.”

Elliot smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, really. I just don’t eat as much as you guys, I guess.”

Ryan set down his fork and looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, I get it. But honestly, we’re not here to make you feel weird about it. We just like eating together, that’s all. You don’t have to stick to your salad thing just because of us. We’re not judging.”

Mark chimed in from the couch, “Yeah, man, we’ve got no problem with what you eat, but if you’re ever hungry, just join us. No pressure.”

Elliot felt a weird lump in his throat. He’d always been the guy who prided himself on being the one who didn’t care what anyone else thought. But in this moment, he realized he had been putting up walls—around his food choices, his routine, and even his relationships. He wasn’t just trying to avoid calories; he was isolating himself from them, from them as people.

The next weekend, Ryan and Mark invited him to join them for a “healthy cooking day.” Elliot was hesitant at first, unsure of what that meant in their world, but he agreed. They spent the afternoon trying new recipes—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a huge smoothie bar. For once, Elliot wasn’t the only one watching his food intake. He felt like he wasn’t *on display* for his choices anymore. He was just another guy, chopping vegetables, chatting about movies, and trying to make something together.

As the evening came around, they all sat down with bowls of their homemade stir-fry, laughing about silly things from work and sharing stories about past roommates and cooking disasters.

“That was a lot better than I thought it’d be,” Elliot admitted, pushing his empty bowl aside. “I think I’ve just been so stuck in my own head, you know? About food, about what I *should* eat, what I *shouldn’t* eat.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Yeah, man, I totally get it. It’s all about balance, right? We’ve both been there—stuck in cycles of eating out or trying to cut out everything. It’s about enjoying food and not obsessing over it.”

Mark added, “Exactly. And hey, if you want to keep things healthy, we’re all for it. We’re just trying to make it a little easier for everyone, right?”

Elliot smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. They weren’t just his roommates. They were his friends. They didn’t care about how he looked or what he ate. They just wanted to hang out and share good food, good company, and good times.

Over time, Elliot found that living with Ryan and Mark didn’t just teach him how to enjoy meals more freely, but also how to be more open. Their easy-going attitude about food, body image, and life in general started to rub off on him. He didn’t feel the need to be the skinny guy who had it all figured out. He could be himself—and sometimes, that meant indulging in a big meal, enjoying pizza without guilt, or laughing at a late-night snack with his roommates. 

They all grew in their own ways, together. And Elliot realized that, more than anything, this shared apartment was a space where they could be who they were, without judgment. It was a place to grow—not just in size, but in friendship.

At first, it was a struggle. Elliot had never really thought about how much he could eat. He had always maintained his slender frame with little effort, casually filling up on salads, protein shakes, and the occasional light meal. But living with Ryan and Mark was a different world. Their love for food wasn’t just about eating—it was about *enjoying* eating. And they had no problem eating a lot.

In the beginning, Elliot felt self-conscious when they invited him to join their meals. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food—they made fantastic meals, hearty and flavorful—but his body had been trained to eat only a small amount at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full plate of something. Most evenings, after just a few bites of lasagna or grilled chicken, he felt uncomfortably full and wanted to stop. But Ryan and Mark always finished their plates, sometimes going back for seconds, and then settling in for snacks, chips, or bowls of ice cream.

“Come on, man,” Ryan would say, giving him a playful nudge. “You gotta try this. Just one more bite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Mark would chuckle, adding, “You’re not gonna be hungry later. Might as well eat now while it’s here.”

The first few weeks were an odd dance for Elliot. He’d eat slowly, trying to keep up with them, feeling the discomfort of fullness hit earlier than usual. At first, he tried to maintain his usual restraint, convinced that he *had* to stop before he felt bloated. But Ryan and Mark, with their carefree attitudes, kept encouraging him to eat more, and each time, Elliot found himself taking just one more bite—then another, and another.

After a while, it became a pattern. There was always more food than anyone could eat in one sitting, so they’d end up watching TV with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, snacking mindlessly. Elliot’s stomach would be stretched to its limits, a dull ache growing in the pit of his stomach, but he found it hard to stop. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was the camaraderie, the way they bonded over meals, shared jokes, and never made him feel weird for not being able to keep up at first. 

At first, Elliot hated that feeling—being too full, sluggish, uncomfortable. He’d retire to his room, feeling like he was walking a fine line between fitting in and betraying his own body. But slowly, imperceptibly, something began to shift. His stomach seemed to adapt, expanding in small increments, slowly able to handle more. The next time they had pizza, he found himself reaching for a second slice without the usual hesitation. Then, on a random Tuesday night, he finished a whole plate of spaghetti—and didn’t feel as stuffed as he had before.

He noticed it during the weekends, when they would make their Sunday feast. Mark would fill the air fryer with fried foods, and Ryan would make pizza and a dessert. They’d eat together for hours, chatting, laughing, and passing around dishes, always encouraging each other to take more. It was normal for Mark to have three servings and Ryan to finish off the last of the food.

“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Ryan would say after seeing Elliot hesitate at the table. “But trust me, there’s no shame in enjoying a good meal.”

Elliot had been reluctant at first, but now he was starting to *enjoy* it, too. As much as he tried to fight it, his body began to crave the comfort of those big meals, the indulgent late-night snacks, and the feeling of sitting around with his roommates, chatting over bowls of chili or homemade pizza. He found himself going back for seconds more often. A third helping wasn’t out of the question anymore, and he no longer felt the need to rush to his room afterward to avoid being seen as weak for not finishing everything on his plate.

He also started noticing something he hadn’t expected: his body was changing. At first, it was subtle—an inch added to his waistline, his jeans feeling a bit tighter after a few weeks. But as the months went by, it became more apparent. His arms felt fuller, his stomach rounder, and he even noticed his face becoming a little softer. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the extra food—and the ease with which he now consumed it—had started to reflect in his body.

It wasn’t just the weight that was changing. His attitude toward food was shifting, too. Whereas he used to feel guilty for indulging, now he felt more comfortable with the idea of eating for pleasure. His conversations with Ryan and Mark had slowly shifted from just joking about food to serious discussions about eating for both enjoyment and balance. Mark would often tell him, “Don’t think of it as overeating. Think of it as living.”

One afternoon, after they’d spent hours preparing a massive barbecue spread, Elliot was leaning back in his chair, feeling pleasantly full for the first time in weeks. Ryan, who was lounging across from him, caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, man,” Ryan said with a grin. “You’re finally eating like a normal person. Not bad.”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Still a bit of a stretch, but... not terrible.”

Mark, who was halfway through a third helping of ribs, laughed and wiped his mouth. “We told you. The more you eat, the more room you’ve got.”

It wasn’t just a physical change. Elliot began to feel more connected to Ryan and Mark. Food had become a bridge, a shared experience that didn’t have to be about calories or body image. It was about friendship, about enjoying the simple pleasure of a meal together and letting go of any anxiety about what or how much he ate. There were days when they all sat at the kitchen table long after dinner, talking and laughing until the food was gone, and he realized he was no longer counting the bites or trying to stop himself from eating too much.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after a particularly indulgent dinner of burgers and fries, Elliot noticed something that made him smile. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how full he felt or whether he should have stopped earlier. He was just enjoying the moment, grateful for the friends he had made and the space they’d created where he didn’t have to worry about measuring himself—or his food.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," Ryan teased, as Elliot helped clear the table.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And for the first time, he wasn’t just talking about eating. He was talking about life—letting go, being present, and allowing himself to be a part of something bigger than his own self-consciousness.

Over time, the changes to his body became more pronounced, but Elliot didn’t mind. The tightness around his stomach was no longer uncomfortable. It felt natural, like something that had just happened over time. And maybe it wasn’t about his physical transformation as much as it was about his acceptance of himself and his life with Ryan and Mark. It had always been about more than just food. It was about sharing, growing, and finding comfort in something simple but meaningful.

**New Chapter will be posted each Thursday** 

[apomaro-mellow]

Runaway Royalty 12

Part 11

When morning came, Eddie was greeted with the sight of Steve still sleeping soundly. It was a sight he could get used to. And he was loathe to wake him up, but today would be busy for them all. Luckily, he had no need to. Like a flower to the sun, Steve turned to face him fully, stretching and yawning as he awakened on his own.

“Good morning, my lovely.”

Steve smiled, seemingly caught by surprise to be sweet talked so early in the morning. And if Eddie had his way, every morning would be like this from now on. Steve leaned in to kiss at his neck and they were able to spend just a few tender moments together before there was a pounding at their door. Steve sighed as Robin’s voice sounded on the other side, demanding that they be decent.

Eddie rushed to dress, feeling like a fox in the hen house right now. Steve remained in bed, knees pulled up to his chest. Robin could deal with him in a nightgown. 

“So how was your night?”, Robin asked when Eddie left.

“About as much fun as yours”, Steve said, eyeing the hickey on her neck.

The morning felt slow and short at the same time. There was a bustle in the town and they soon found that it was in preparation for a party at the castle. A masquerade party. 

“We’re getting into that party”, Eddie said over breakfast.

“A party? At the castle? Are you out of your peanut sized mind?”, Robin snarked.

“My um, my parents live and work in the castle”, Eddie explained. “That’s the best place to see that they’re good and healthy.” 

“Not that I doubt you”, Steve started. “But how exactly are we supposed to sneak into the castle?”

Eddie swallowed. He could just walk up to the palace gates, reveal himself as the prince, and they’d be granted access as easy as that. But there were two reasons he just couldn’t. For one, even with his father’s history, they might send his cohorts to the dungeon, including Steve. And he couldn’t put him through that. He wouldn’t. Eddie had promised him the finer things and that did not include shackles and bars.

He also just wasn’t ready for Steve to know. He knew it was a fantasy for some that their lover was secretly royalty. But was that true for Steve? What if he looked at him differently? He just…he had to prolong that confession for as long as possible. Maybe Steve would be happy about it when he saw what opulence being a prince came with.

“You leave the details up to me, my darling~”

Eddie would lie a thousand times if it got Steve to smile at him like that. Hopefully though, the lies would end after tonight. He sent Robin and Steve out to get a list of supplies. A fool’s errand but it couldn’t hurt to have some of those things. Meanwhile, Eddie brainstormed with his inner circle.

Robin watched as Steve hummed to himself while perusing the market. She hated to burst his morning after bliss but, well, it was nearly noon so…

“You know he’s lying right?”, Robin said. “About something.”

“I know. But so are we.” Steve sighed. “And our secret’s a lot bigger than his.”

“Hmm, debatable. What if his secret is that he’s impotent? Then what happens to your dream of a gaggle of pups?”

“You mean infertile? Because I can assure you based on last night-”

“Spare me! Spare me!”, Robin shouted, covering her ears.

“Don’t bring up topics that disgust you, sister.” Steve traded some coin for some fruit.

“Steve, before you hitch your wagon to this man, you should know all that he is. And he should know all of you too.”

“Why should he know?!”, Steve shouted before remembering they were in public. “Why should he know something that will never be important? Our royal blood doesn’t matter anymore, Robin.”

“Perhaps not now. But there’s already tension because you, and me, and the other prince are missing. If our return could ease things.”

“Our parents won’t go to war for us. Well, maybe for you, you were supposed to inherit the kingdom. You can go home Robin.”

“My home’s with you, I thought you understood that. So when you hitch that wagon to your Bandit Prince, I’m along for the ride.”

Steve smiled, happy to reaffirm that she would stay by his side. They passed a shop window and he could see their reflection. He looked so different. Gone was the royal omega, with hair that fell in waves down his back, over the luxurious fabric of fine dresses. Common omegas wore dresses too, but Steve had gone with trousers for ease of travel. He knew it was vain, but he couldn’t help but wish there was a way to return to the way he looked. 

They returned to the inn and Eddie let him in on the plan. Robin had many thoughts, but Steve elbowed her every time. She should have faith. He was the son of the Bandit King, after all. He was a professional at sneaking. And if he couldn’t trust the man who would one day be his alpha, then Eddie had some stepping up to do.

The plan began at sunset. Like most royal parties, there were festivities all day, but a lull for those in attendance to rest, refresh, and dress in their evening wear. Eddie took them near the castle wall. Rounding the bricks and finding a hidden entrance reminded Steve of how he and Robin would sneak out of their own castle. They all wore cloaks, hoods pulled tight over their heads.

“Gareth, Harold, secure our exit”, Eddie said, prompting them to break off. “The rest of you, with me.”

Eddie led Jeff, Robin, and Steve through a door, leading to the inner courtyard. And from there, another door that led to the servants quarters. Eddie’s shoulders sagged a bit before straightening up again.

“Jeff, take Steve and Robin to get dressed. Then come find me.”

Before he could take off, Steve grabbed his wrist. Eddie turned to face him. He pulled Steve close and caressed his cheek, then scented him.

“We will be together again soon. And then forever. I..I wish I had more time to teach you…”

“What?”, Steve chuckled. “Courtly ways?”

“Yes, well, my parents have been in the castle a long time, so I’ve picked up a thing or two but you…”

“I assure you, I can be quite regal”, Steve said. “I just wish we didn’t have to part. What if something happens?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Eddie kissed the back of his hands, then his forehead. Then he let Jeff lead the two siblings to the opposite end of the hall. Only once they were out of sight did Eddie remove his cloak. He still snuck around, there was no need to let the castle know he had returned yet. But the cloak would have just brought more attention while indoors.

Eddie was eventually able to get to his rooms and he trusted Jeff to lead Robin and his beloved to another room. One where they could complete the next phase of the plan: disguises.

Steve was surprised to see they had come to a room with dresses upon mannequins. And they all looked exquisite. But none so as lovely as the bridal gown. Steve could tell it was such. It had the most detail. White and golden details, with a frock of green. Steve longed to see if the embroidered embellishments were birds or butterflies, but he resisted. He knew in his heart, that must be Prince Stephen’s wedding dress. His wedding dress.

He turned away from it, giving his attention instead to one of the others in the room. They were all very pretty and Steve couldn’t believe he’d get to wear a royal wardrobe for one last night. The plan was to infiltrate the party. Eddie’s parents would be serving there. Once he met with them, made sure they were safe and okay, their business would be done.

Jeff left them to return to Eddie. There was clothing there for Robin and she began to strip right then and there while Steve went behind a room divider, decorated with flowers. He chose a dress of deep blue and white, going to the vanity after Robin helped him tie the back. He looked at his reflection, feeling that loss again.

“What has you so forlorn, dear brother?”, Robin asked, holding out her arm so that Steve could tie the laces of her sleeve. She had chosen yellow for herself.

“I…”, he sighed as he tied her up. “I’m not as…”

“If you’re about to say ‘as pretty’ when just last night you had that alpha drooling all over you!”

“But it’s true isn’t it?”

“All you did was chop off some hair-”

“And changed my clothing-”

“And yet you still entranced the Bandit Prince. Steve, he fell for you in a matter of days. He loves you. I wager he’d still love you even if you went bald”, she said before plucking a hair from his head, prompting him to swat at her.

“Stop it!”

“And he’ll love you when you start to wrinkle”, she pulled at his cheek. “Or when you have horrible flatulence-”

“You are the worst sister in the world! And I’m so glad to have you by my side.”

“Roommates until the end”, Robin smiled.

“Until the end”, Steve echoed, scenting her before putting on their masks.

------------------------------

Eddie was dressed in red, so deep it was almost like blood. His mask was the same, studded with rubies. Had this occurred normally, it would have done nothing to hide his identity. But since he had run, he was sure not even his parents would recognize him. They weren’t expecting him here tonight.

Everyone was in the ballroom, and they were able to enter the crowd with ease. Eddie knew Steve when he saw him. It wasn’t just that he was the only omega with short hair. It felt like the room parted for him. Steve walked like…like royalty. He moved like he belonged, smiling easily, almost flirtatiously as he made his way to Eddie.

Without even thinking, Eddie offered his arm. Steve took it just as reflexively.

“Have you found your parents yet?”

Eddie’s eyes glanced at the end of the room where the queen and her king sat. He shook his head. “Not yet. Shall we dance?” He didn’t give Steve a chance to answer before bringing him to the circle in the middle. He had done so to distract Steve from asking too many questions. But in turn, Eddie himself was distracted. By the twirl of Steve’s skirt, by his smile, by the sparkle of his eyes beneath the mask.

Even when Steve had to turn away during the dance, Eddie’s eyes followed him. Perhaps the flower and sun analogy would have been better reversed. Wherever Steve went, he was compelled to face. When that song ended, he pulled Steve to him, leading him to a table to eat.

“What do you think of what the good life has to offer?”, Eddie asked.

“That one could get used to it”, Steve said, eyeing Robin as she walked by, already chatting up a maiden. “But I am fine with less.”

“But..what if you didn’t have to settle for less?”

“What do you-”

A roar of fanfare cut him off and all eyes turned as the queen and king stood. The queen was beautiful, her hair was a mass of curls behind her crown, almost wild and untamed like a burst of auburn starlight. The king’s own hair was dark and cut short. They stepped down together but the queen continued to the center of the room.

“Tonight, is no mere revelry. While it is quite known how I love frivolity, there were other intentions for this celebration. You see, it is a homecoming.”

Steve could scent something coming off of Eddie, something like anxiety as the queen continued.

“For months, we have missed our dear prince. But finally, he has returned to us.” She looked in Eddie’s direction. “How long will you continue to hide?”

Steve’s head whipped around. Prince Edwin was here?! Now? What were the odd-wait, why was Eddie standing? He was on his feet and then he walked towards the queen. Once there, he removed his mask, prompting gasps from many in the room. Steve didn’t gasp. He had known what was under the mask. What he didn’t know was that there was a mask at all. His chest rose and fell. Eddie was…Eddie was Prince Edwin? Why?

Why, why, why?

He could pick up Robin’s scent. She had just arrived next to him and grabbed his hand. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Eddie (no, not Eddie, Prince Edwin) as he stood next to the queen (no, his mother).

“Welcome home, son”, she smiled. That elicited applause, everyone welcoming him back as well. She turned to return to her husband, but Eddie stayed right where he was.

“I have not returned”, he said, bringing the room to silence, and then hushed murmurs.

“What do you mean?”, his mother asked, turning as the king came to stand by her.

“Why did you leave, son?”, he asked.

“I had my reasons. But none of them matter now”, Eddie began. “What matters is the reason I found while I was away. If I return, you would have me marry Prince Stephen.”

Steve’s heart thudded in his throat. Is that why Eddie had run away from home? Because he hadn’t wanted to marry him? Well he couldn’t be that offended, could he? He had run away for the same reason. And yet, it was different. He had reached out to Prince Edwin, had tried to get to know him. But Prince Edwin had ignored him at every turn.

“There is another I want to marry instead. Someone else I want to pledge myself to. He holds no titles, no lands, no prestige. But he has all of my heart”, Eddie said. Then he held a hand out. Towards Steve.

Robin tightened her hold on his hand, determined to keep him there, maybe even steal him away. He could feel her getting angry on his behalf. He patted her arm to placate her, needing to get a few answers for himself. He stood and began to walk towards Eddie.

“Why don’t you want to marry Prince Stephen?”, he asked.

Eddie flinched at that, his hand falling. He hadn’t expected that. “I…I don’t know him. Not like I know you.”

“But he’s your betrothed. Surely you tried to know him. Or he you?”, Steve urged.

“There were letters…”

“And?”

Eddie looked down before meeting Steve’s eyes again, still behind the mask. “It is an arranged marriage, decided by our parents. I knew any communication he sent would have been with the intention to make nice. Not genuine romance. I don’t want someone who was told to love me, told to care about me in order to please their parents.”

“What did you think would happen to the prince after you disappeared?”

“His fate is not in my hands. I only sought to change my own destiny. To be a true love. And perhaps give him a chance to do the same.”

“And what if you had allowed yourself to be known?”, Steve crossed his arms. “What if he fell for you of his own accord?”

Eddie grinned. “I’m not so easy to love.”

Steve finally stepped closer to him. “And yet you convinced me of it in such a short time. I wonder…how long it would have taken if you had responded to any of my letters.”

“Y…y-your-”

“Edwin, who is this?”, the king asked.

Steve removed his mask then. “My apologies, Your Majesties, for the deception. It is I, Prince Stephen.” He bowed before them. “I have come to claim my husband.”

Both the king and queen were rendered speechless. And the rest of the hall was just as silent. Robin was in the crowd, on her feet, ready to snatch Steve away and make a break for it just in case they decided he was a liar.

“Is this true, Edwin”, the queen asked.

Suddenly it all made sense to Eddie. The coincidental disappearance, the refusal to discuss his parents, the vague past and even more vague future plans, how he seemed so aristocratic despite claiming to be a commoner. Even the fact that he was on the road with his twin sister, just as there were twin royals!

“It’s all true”, Eddie said, his voice full of disbelief. “Every last word.” This time, when he offered his hand, Steve accepted it. He felt a warmth throughout his entire body.

The queen cleared her throat. “If I am understanding this correctly, you ran from home because you did not wish to fulfill the arrangement between you and Prince Stephen. Now you have returned home and you intend to marry him?”

Eddie had the decency to get bashful and blush. Steve did the same, hiding his smile behind his hand. Both royal parents sighed and shook their heads. Then the king clapped his hands.

“It sounds to me we have something to celebrate after all! Tonight we feast in honor of my son and his renewed engagement!”

There were cheers all around at that and the music began again. Jeff, remembering Gareth and Harold, sent for them. There was no longer any need to secure a getaway. Steve and Eddie danced the night away, barely taking their eyes or hands off of each other. Which was all fine and dandy until they had to part for bed. There would be no more nighttime trysts.

The only low point was when Steve and Robin’s parents came to confirm their children were indeed at this castle. They’d taken turns admonishing them both, taking up about half the day to do so. But on the bright side, it prompted them to begin the wedding arrangements immediately, lest their children do something foolish again.

When Steve met Eddie at the altar, dressed in his bridal gown, it felt like a dream come true. Eddie’s eyes twinkled with tears of happiness.

“Your beauty rivals that of the brightest stars.”

“And just think, you could have known sooner, had you responded to my letters.”

“That shall stain your impression of me forever, won’t it?”

“Perhaps. Ask me again after we’ve had our first pup. Or perhaps the third or fourth.”

“As my love commands~”

It didn’t take long for Steve’s belly to grow round, nor for the people of this kingdom to spread the rumor of how the two princes came to meet. It had twisted and turned that there were about five different versions people told, just in the surrounding area. Go even further out and the story became even more muddled. 

But the core remained the same. That their love was true. That they would have given up not just one kingdom, but two. But as fate would have it, the only thing they had to relinquish was their hearts. And they had given it to someone who would treasure it above the most valuable of crown jewels.

And all they had to do was run away to each other.

END

Thank yall for joinin' me on this one :) Hope to see you for more in 2025!

[ofthemorningstars]

To Love What Death Can Touch

TerzOmega ~ Family Fluff ~ Light Angst/Comfort ~ Resurrection AU 2.6k words AO3 Version "He’d always hated seeing his lover ill, but after having to live without him, live with the knowledge that Terzo was dead and, at the time, gone forever… Omega had never been the same. He suspected that he never would be."

Terzo is sick, and it's up to Omega and their oldest daughter, Starlight, to nurse him back to health. CW: death anxiety ---

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, little Star,” Omega soothed his and Terzo’s oldest daughter, situating her on his hip and smoothing her hair. She grabbed desperately at her father’s shirt, claws beginning to poke through the fabric. 

“But Daddy, Papa is dying!” Starlight wailed, loud enough that Omega began to worry about her waking her younger sister from her nap. “Baby girl, you’re going to wake Astrid up. You know how hard it is to get her to fall asleep,” Omega gently chided. Starlight grabbed at her tail, beginning to hyperventilate. “But–” “Papa isn’t dying, I promise. He’s just sick.” He paused for a moment, wondering how best to explain the concept of human illness to a 4 year old ghoul. He considered them lucky that they hadn’t been forced to have this conversation before now. “You know Papa is… different from us, in some ways. Sometimes humans give each other germs, and they just… don’t feel very good. It will take a few days, but Papa will feel better soon and be completely back to normal. You have my word. ” He emphasized his point with a kiss to the top of Starlight’s head. It took a couple of minutes for Starlight’s breathing to return to normal, and when it did, she took a big, shuddering sigh and leaned her head against Omega’s chest. Omega rubbed her back all the while.  “P–promise?” Starlight stuttered, hiccuping. Omega smiled softly at the sweetness of her concern. “I promise,” Omega swore to his firstborn. He was hellbent on keeping his word; he would be damned if he let anything happen to his husband. “Do you want to help him feel better faster?” Omega asked as he wiped the lingering tears from Starlight’s face. She nodded quickly. “Well then, go wash your hands,” he instructed, setting her down on her feet. 

She did as she was told without question, ever the obedient child. When she returned to his side a few moments later, he ruffled her hair before sitting her on the counter. He already had his materials gathered. 

“We’re going to make Papa some chicken soup. It helps humans feel better when they get sick.” He had been simmering a pot of chicken stock for several hours now, ever since Terzo woke up with a fever. Well, ever since Omega noticed early that morning that Terzo felt hot and had woken him up to take his temperature. It was over one hundred and one degrees, to Omega’s horror, so he had been giving Terzo fever reducers on a strict schedule all day. It wasn’t helping nearly as much as Omega was hoping it would. 

Omega dreaded days like these. He was very protective of his mate, and he took great pride in keeping Terzo healthy. It had taken a long time before Omega overcame his paralyzing fear about death once again taking Terzo from him after he had been resurrected, and every time Terzo fell ill, it was a cruel reminder of his lingering mortality. That reminder was made all the more cruel by having children at stake now—children who needed their Papa. “Daddy…” Starlight hesitated, looking like she was trying to find the right words for what she was about to say. “How come Papa isn’t like us, and can get sick? Why isn’t he a ghoul?” Her eyes were wide, innocent. Omegas was taken aback at the question, though he knew she meant nothing malicious by it. He felt a bittersweet pang deep in his chest. “Because he’s who Daddy fell in love with. We love him all the same, don’t we?” Omega asked softly. Starlight nodded, sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t have you or your sister without Papa. He’s perfect just the way he is, and we have to remember that not everyone is exactly the same. It’s important to accept people the way they are. Ok, princess?” She nodded again. Omega took her face in his hands, kissing her nose. A nose that looked so much like her Papa’s. He sighed. He had to get Terzo through this. 

Omega let Starlight watch as he cut the vegetables: carrots, onions, celery, parsnips, leeks. He helped his daughter carefully pour them into the pot, stirring the wooden spoon together. When they added aromatic turmeric and garlic and fresh sage, Starlight began to sniff, licking her lips. “Can I have some too, Daddy?” Starlight asked, much to Omega’s amusement. “Of course you can! Did you really think I wouldn’t feed you?” Omega chuckled, taking her down from her place on the counter. “It’ll be ready soon. We’ll eat lunch, and then we’ll go feed Papa in bed. We don’t want to make him get up. He needs his rest in order to get better.” 

“Ok!” Starlight said brightly, walking off to the sitting room. Omega peered around the corner as she settled into the sofa and started her movie back up from where she’d left it, checking in on her. He tended to the soup, his mind racing darkly with a hundred different equally terrible scenarios. This happened every time Terzo got sick, but no matter how many times they came through the other side unscathed, it never ceased to emotionally wreck Omega. He’d always hated seeing his lover ill, but after having to live without him, live with the knowledge that Terzo was dead and, at the time, gone forever… Omega had never been the same. He suspected that he never would be. 

“Lunch is ready,” Omega called when everything was done, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. She leaned her head against his arm before hopping to her feet and following him to the table, where a bowl was already waiting for her. She hurriedly dug in, speeding through her meal. When Omega reminded her to slow down, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I want Papa to get lunch, too.” Starlight’s voice was wobbly, unsteady, like she was on the verge of breaking down into tears again. “I just want him to feel better already...” Omega’s heart broke. 

“ Me too, Star”, he thought. 

“Papa is sleeping, there’s no need to rush. We’ll have to wake him up. You can take your time,” Omega advised, working hard to protect his daughter from his own anxiety. She nodded, slowing down. After she finished her bowl, Omega helped her prepare a tray for Terzo, having her select which hunk of bread to bring her father and assisting her in pouring a glass of orange juice. When it was time, he carried it to their bedroom, Starlight holding onto his pant leg. As the door swung open, Starlight tentatively poked her head out from behind Omega, taking a peek at where Terzo was currently propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows. Terzo’s face was pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat, his nose red. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, still firmly shut. Omega heard Starlight let out a quiet gasp behind him. “Could you wake Papa up for me, sweetie? My hands are a little full.” Omega hoped that his tone of voice left room for his daughter to say no if she were uncomfortable or afraid, even if he wished that she would never fear her Papa. Starlight stepped out slightly in front of Omega, looking to him for reassurance. Omega simply nodded at her, looking between her and his sleeping husband.

She appeared to steel herself and then nodded, creeping towards the bedside. Carefully climbing onto the bed, she did her best not to jostle Terzo. As she reached where he was resting she reached out, pausing only for a moment before placing a hand on Terzo’s shoulder and softly shaking him. “P-Papa?” Starlight stuttered, a slight tremor in her voice. “Papa, w-we brought you some soup.” Terzo began to stir, groaning softly and moving to shield his eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight pouring in through the curtains. When his eyes fluttered open, they were bleary and unfocused, flitting around the room for a moment before finally settling on his daughter’s face. Omega could see Terzo’s gaze sharpen when he started to process what he was seeing, taking in her look of upset and concern. Terzo reached out with a trembling hand to cup Starlight’s face, and she leaned into his touch, grabbing onto his arm with both hands. 

“You’re so warm, Papa,” Starlight sounded scared, like she was on the verge of tears. Terzo’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, but Omega spoke up before Terzo could get anything out. 

“He’s alright, Star, he just has a fever. It’s a way that human bodies heal themselves. Papa’s body is trying to get rid of the germs.” Omega silently wondered how much of that explanation was him trying to reassure himself. Starlight looked back at Omega, her eyes full of uncertainty. As she turned back around, Terzo nodded at her, reinforcing what Omega had said. “Sì,” Terzo croaked out hoarsely, having to stop to clear his throat. He took her hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “Papa is ok. Just a bit under the weather.” As he appeared to notice what Omega was carrying, a small smile brightened his pallid features. “What have you brought me, my darlings?”

“Daddy made you chicken soup!” Starlight bounced excitedly, her mood immediately lifting at the reminder. “He said it would make you feel better!” Terzo chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Hey, you helped too, Star!” Omega said playfully, trying to encourage the mood in the room to continue to lift. The corners of Terzo’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened. “Did you, now?” Terzo made a show of sniffing the air. “It smells delicious. I feel better already.” When he weakly tried to sit up, Omega hastily sat the tray down on the nightstand so he could help his husband, not wanting him to strain himself. “Grazie, amore mio,” Terzo said as Omega assisted him, gratitude evident on his face. After Omega rearranged the pillows to help support Terzo’s back, he carefully sat the tray over his lap and gingerly settled down on the bed beside Terzo. Starlight picked up the spoon and tried her best to feed Terzo, but she ended up making a bit of a mess on her way to his mouth, spilling soup on the tray and Terzo’s shirt. Omega inhaled sharply, his hand shooting out to catch the spoon as it returned to the bowl. “Star–!” Omega began to caution as he started to take the spoon from her, but Terzo shot him a look. 

“You’re doing great, la mia dolce bambina.” Terzo reached up to brush a strand of hair out of Starlight’s face. Omega started to speak up about the mess again, but Terzo only had eyes for their daughter. “It is ok, amore, let her help. She is doing such a good job.” Omega sighed, going to get a towel. “This is very good soup, you did an excellent job, la mia piccola stella,” he overheard Terzo say from down the hall, and Omega couldn’t help but smile despite his lingering anxiety. 

After Terzo ate all that he could, Starlight gave him a big kiss on the cheek and hurried out of the room. Omega was puzzled by her sudden departure, but Terzo didn’t seem bothered. He ran a hand up and down Omega’s arm knowingly, humming softly, and Omega closed his eyes as they welled up, trying to stop the dam from breaking. When Omega’s breath hitched, Terzo shushed him, taking his hand and smoothing over the back of it with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” Terzo soothed. “I’m ok. Everything is going to be ok.” With no small amount of effort, he leaned up, placing a kiss on Omega’s shoulder. Omega met his eyes, unable to stop the tear that spilled over when he felt the waves of love radiating off of Terzo with his quintessence. Another tear escaped as their lips met in a tender kiss, this one wiped away by the pad of his husband’s thumb. Omega couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him in a huff. “I thought I was supposed to be the one making you feel better,” Omega joked as he pulled away, kissing Terzo on the forehead. Terzo squeezed his hand, his eyes soft. Terzo didn’t have to say anything. Omega knew. He knew that Terzo was aware of the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Omega was just about to open his mouth again when he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps running down the hallway.

Star burst into the room but slowed as she reached the bed. Approaching Terzo with care, she snuggled up into his side and pulled out a book that Omega hadn’t noticed tucked under her arm. It was her favorite, a book titled “Guess How Much I Love You”, one that her fathers read to her every night. Omega knew that she couldn’t quite read fluently yet, and instead had the book memorized from years of bedtimes. As he watched their daughter read to her Papa, Terzo’s lips pressed to the crown of her head and his arm wrapped tightly around her, he felt his heart full to bursting with gratitude and love for his family, tears once again threatening to spill over. Suddenly they heard Astrid’s cries from the girls’ room, and Starlight’s recitation faltered. He saw Terzo instinctively move to get up and placed a hand on his leg, shaking his head firmly. “Stay. You need your rest. I’ve got her, don’t worry.” His tone left no room for argument. Terzo grimaced but nodded, relaxing back into his pillows once more. Omega tended to the cranky one year old, after about 10 minutes realizing that unfortunately, naptime was over. He fed Astrid lunch, feeling a little guilty for letting her sleep through lunchtime, but her sleep schedule was still so erratic even after the year mark that they’d taken to letting her sleep whenever it found her. 

Once she had gotten her fill and began refusing to eat, Omega sighed and picked her up, holding her close and breathing in her scent, closing his eyes as he tried to remain in the moment. The anxiety and the fear of losing his family that he worked so hard to fight off on a daily basis was rearing its ugly head, and he needed an anchor.

Omega headed back to their room, needing to see everyone he loved, to get visual confirmation that they were alright. When he rounded the corner, though, he was surprised to see Terzo and Starlight both asleep together, the little ghoul tucked into the crook of his arm. He couldn’t fight the smile that overtook his face, his knees feeling weak as he was overcome by an intense wave of love. To his surprise, Astrid began to rub her eyes, whining as she reached for Terzo. “Papa,” she called softly, Omega’s smile widening. “Daddy” was her first word, but “Papa” had been a close second following very shortly after, and she’d never stopped saying either since. She was still learning “Star”, but Omega had no doubts she’d get it soon. Astrid opened and closed her fists, grasping at the air. He gave her what she wanted, situating her on Terzo’s other side. She moved closer, clutching his shirt and sucking her thumb. As her breathing began to slow and her heavy eyelids fell closed, Omega kissed them on their foreheads, unable to hold himself back. He got into the bed himself, one of his long arms resting protectively on all three of them. He drifted off with the knowledge that they would get through this, together.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

.

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

I literally don’t know how to talk about and process this without sounding like some sort of weird incel but maybe that’s what’s going on

[ninadove]

My ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn went above and beyond to colour my Inachis design and LOOK AT HIM LOOK AT THE BOY

So handsome and so menacing

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

god, grief hits you at the weirdest fucking times

[oscargender]

to knowis to be loved and to be known is to b eloved. I want transgender friends who will know me and love me in a way that cis people usually do not

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

quietly realizing that I likely do not have queerplatonic attraction *or* romantic attraction.

[milo-is-rambling]

Omg yesterday at my moms therapy I said how well I had been doing and feeling like I can actually handle life and my mom was immediately like “that’s because you’ve been taking your meds regularly again” and like completely brushed off any progress I had actually made and I had to be like yeah totally that’s it that’s why exactly when I haven’t taken my meds for a week straight in idk how long

[whimsyprinx]

one of the things that hurts the most is that if i pretended nothing wrong was and went back to how I was prior to things getting Unbearable that people probably still wouldn’t nothing, things would go back to being the same, unfortunately I don’t want that

[bennitastisch]

i wish i could fuck my parents up in the same way they fucked me up