#and the sparkling were just his little cubs

[compaculaaa]

How dose Alpha deal with the four sparklings once their start teething when their Dentas/teeth come in and start chewing on things I can imagine that him and sentinel can only deal with the issue at first

They started chewing on anything, pillars, sheathed swords, the death trackers, airachnids legs they couldn’t get enough. Doesn’t help that some of them inherited alphas dentae from his alt mode (D&B). Sentinel initially bought chew toys for the sparklings as if they were dogs which earned him a scowl from alpha, alpha gave the sparklings the ones that actually help with teething while he played with the rest that aren’t for sparklings (he couldn’t resist)

[ducksido]

Babysitting Cheka With Leona

The sun blazed overhead, pouring golden light over the Savannaclaw dorm as Y/N and Leona lounged on the soft grass near the dorm gardens. Well, "lounged" wasn't quite the right word—Leona was sprawled across the ground, arm draped over his face to shield his eyes, while Y/N sat beside him, cross-legged and enjoying the rare moment of peace.

It didn’t last long.

“Unca Leona!”

The sound of small feet pounding against the ground reached their ears, and both looked up just in time to see Cheka barrelling toward them. Y/N had only a second to brace themselves before the lion cub tackled them into an enthusiastic hug.

“Y/N! You’re here too! That’s so cool!” Cheka exclaimed, his amber eyes sparkling as he looked up at them.

Leona groaned from his spot on the ground, muttering something about cubs being "too hyper for their own good." He made no move to get up.

“What’s the occasion, Cheka?” Y/N asked, ruffling his fluffy hair.

“Papa and Mama had to go to a meeting, so I get to hang out with Unca Leona today!” Cheka beamed before his expression turned pleading. “Can we play a game? Please?”

Leona finally peeled one eye open, glancing at Cheka with a mixture of exasperation and resignation. “Don’t you have someone else to bother, runt?”

“Leona,” Y/N said with a playful smirk, “he’s just a kid. Don’t be so grumpy.”

Leona groaned again, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Fine. What game?”

Cheka gasped with excitement. “Hide and seek! You’re it, Unca Leona!”

Without waiting for a response, the cub darted off, dragging Y/N along by the hand. Y/N shot Leona an apologetic look over their shoulder, but the beastman just waved them off, muttering, “You’re on your own, herbivore.”

The game went about as expected. Cheka hid in the most obvious spots, giggling loudly and making it impossible for Y/N to miss him. Still, they played along, pretending to search high and low before "finding" him in the bushes or behind a tree.

Leona watched from a distance, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, his emerald eyes following Y/N’s every move. There was something about the way they laughed and indulged Cheka's antics that made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

Eventually, the game wound down, and Cheka declared himself the winner. Y/N collapsed onto the grass, panting but grinning as Cheka plopped down beside them.

“You’re really good at hide and seek, Y/N!” the cub said, his tail swishing happily.

“Thanks, Cheka. You’re a tough opponent,” Y/N replied, ruffling his hair again.

Leona finally joined them, sitting down with a dramatic sigh. “You tired yourself out already, runt?”

“No way! But Y/N looks tired, so we should rest.” Cheka cuddled up to Y/N, his small frame warm against their side.

Leona’s gaze softened as he watched the scene. Without thinking, he reached out and flicked Y/N’s forehead lightly.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, rubbing the spot.

“You’re too soft,” Leona said, but there was no real bite in his words. “Letting the kid run you ragged like that.”

Y/N rolled their eyes. “Oh, please. You enjoyed watching us play, admit it.”

Leona smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it.”

Cheka’s eyelids were drooping, and he yawned, snuggling closer to Y/N. “You’re the best, Y/N… And Unca Leona is pretty cool too.”

Leona’s ears twitched, and he looked away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

As Cheka’s breathing evened out, Y/N laid back on the grass, the little lion cub nestled between them and Leona. The warm afternoon sun made it impossible to resist the pull of sleep. Y/N glanced at Leona, their smile soft.

“You know, you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”

“Tch. Don’t start,” Leona muttered, but his hand brushed against theirs, his fingers curling around Y/N’s in a quiet acknowledgment.

For a while, the three of them lay there, the world still except for the gentle rustle of leaves and Cheka’s soft snores. Leona’s hand lingered against Y/N’s, his thumb absently brushing their skin.

“I don’t get why you’re always so patient with him,” Leona said after a long moment, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N tilted their head toward him, meeting his gaze. “Because he’s a good kid. And he adores you, Leona, even if you try to act like you don’t care.”

Leona scoffed, though there was no malice behind it. “Adoration’s overrated.”

“Not when it’s earned,” Y/N replied, their tone gentle.

Leona didn’t respond right away, but his eyes softened, the usual sharpness giving way to something deeper. His grip on Y/N’s hand tightened ever so slightly.

“You’re a handful too, you know,” he said, his voice low, almost fond.

“Is that so?” Y/N teased, their smile growing.

Leona leaned in, his forehead briefly touching theirs. “Yeah. But I don’t mind.”

It wasn’t much—a fleeting gesture, unspoken words tucked between their fingers—but it was enough.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of amber and gold, Y/N drifted off to the sound of Leona’s steady breathing and the comforting warmth of his hand in theirs.

And for the first time in a long while, Leona thought that maybe, just maybe, moments like this weren’t so bad after all.

[faeryarchives]

Little Ball of Sunshine (Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Amid all the festive and crowd, a little ball of sunshine in the form of a cub found their way to you. Recent works: And Nothing More (Azul Ashengrotto & Jamil Viper x F!Reader) & Stay with me (Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader) & heartslabyul with a furina-like female reader!

As one of the appointed students in charge of accommodating visitors from far and wide during the Night Raven annual festival - it was not surprising for you to see people walking up to you and asking for directions or performing tricks to calm down children who strayed too far from their parents, keeping watch until they are reunited again. After all, you would never hear the end of it from Crowley if some parents complained about security issues.

'Who knew Ace's party tricks would save me a lot?' A crowd of children gathers around you, eyes full of amazement and woe as you try juggling and creating balloon animals to make them smile before sending them off with their parents. They waved their hands goodbye one by one, and their words made you tear up a little. 

"Bye, thank you for visiting us!" Watching them exit the school grounds with looks of satisfaction gave you more motivation to do more. However, your body seems to beg to differ after performing one trick from another for hours without any rest, stumbling and closing your eyes for just a moment too long before brushing your hair out of your face. 

"My whole body feels sore..." You moaned, feigning to faint as you leaned your back to Jack, who pat your shoulder while arranging the lost items that people found and surrendered. 

"Jack, I'm going to die. I can't feel my body..."

"Then why don't you take a break for a while? You've been standing here all day, and I don't mind covering for you for an hour or so." The wolf suggested, not batting an eye until you turned around with eyes sparkling with delight. "You serious?" You asked, and Jack could read you like a book, seeing your body shudder with excitement.

"You never experienced the annual festival before, right?" He had a knowing smile as he put his hand on your head, ruining your hairstyle. "So go there and have fun."

Of course, you wouldn't let such an opportunity go; after all - annual festivals only happen once a year. It will be a shame if you never get to enjoy it before going back to your own home.

One thing led to another, and you found yourself in the middle of the festival with something wrapped around your leg, "Wah! You are that amazing lady doing tricks earlier!" said a high and clear voice filled with the infectious excitement that only a child could muster. 

"A child?" Glancing down, your eyes met a pool of color honey hues full of child-like wonder and innocence. A pair of lion ears sat upon his fluffy auburn hair, and a bright grin sat on the child's face as he looked up at you. "What's your name?" Crouching down at his height, you look around for any injuries; thankfully, there were none. Instead of mirroring your worry, the child cheered, raising his hands in the air.

"My name is Cheka!"

"Mmh! So Cheka, are you here all alone?" The boy pondered momentarily, trying to think what to answer before shaking his head side to side. "Nope! But I ran away from my bodyguards to look for you!"

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such an answer. "For me...?" You trailed off, pointing at yourself to be sure, and the lion cub nodded enthusiastically. "Don't you know it is bad to follow strangers?" For the second time, Cheka shook his head as if denying his actions. His tiny fists are raised over his chest while his tail wags excitedly.

"You are not a stranger! I saw you before!"

"Really?" With your mind wandering off trying to remember this particular lion club, you eventually gave up - too tired to use any of your brain cells for today. "Well, if I am not a stranger and you are alone, why don't we enjoy the festival first and look for your bodyguards?" You reached out your hand for him to take, which he did without hesitation. 

While you go around, hand in hand, and win some prizes to give to Cheka, he starts to engage in small talk about himself and his favorite Uncle. "Thank you, big sister (Nickname)! I always want to go and meet you after Uncle keeps mentioning you to Mother." Cheka met your eyes and giggled. 

"Cheka, if you don't mind me asking, who is your uncl-"

"So this is where you are hanging out?" In the blink of an eye, you watch as Cheka is being carried like a cat, but instead of thrashing around - the cub bursts out in fits of giggles as he tries reaching out to Leona, the culprit. "Unca Leona!" Letting the child dangle in the air, Leona looked at you, a sigh passing through his lips as if he had just discovered what was happening.

"So you ran away from your attendants again to meet my herbivore? Do you know how your father almost cried to me when he found out you escaped?"

"Hehe! Because I know you will look for me! And big sis (Nickname) is with me, so I am safe!" At this point, Leona might as well exhale his soul for the nth time, letting Cheka down on the floor before walking towards you with a very, very, very serious expression on his face.

With his palm on the cub's head to ensure he doesn't run off again, he leans in, trying to read your expression as you try not to laugh at the sudden revelation. "Did he say anything to you?" You try averting your gaze to anything but your lover's face before finally letting your laugh come out.

"Mmm, which part?" You hum playfully before sticking your tongue out at him. Obviously, on the losing side of the argument, the lion just shrugged it off and hugged you from behind, snugging his head into your shoulder and letting out a satisfied hum when you ruffled his head affectionately.

"I never thought you would mention me to your brother and sister-in-law. Sometimes, you are adorable, too."

"Well, of course. You are my girlfriend, after all, and how do you think I know what to gift you every time?"

Cheka yawned, trying to rub the sleepiness away from his eyes only to fail, leading him to tug on Leona's hand. "Uncle Leona, are we going home? I'm already sleepy..." Leona lifted the boy by holding him by his sides, switching his hold to make the cub snuggle comfortably to the lion's chest while hugging the teddy bear you won for him. 

"Yeah, it's time for you to go home. Say goodbye to (Name)." Cheka peeked his eyes towards you before giving you the puppy dog eyes, a powerful attack piercing your heart. "Can we still hang out after this?" He asked you ever so hopefully. You and Leona shared a glance before you stepped forward and patted the cub on his head. 

"Of course! Call your Uncle Leona on the phone if you want to chat, okay?"

"Mm!"

After that, there was never a day that Cheka failed to give you a call. He always talked about how his day at school and shared stories about Leona. 

[werezmastarbucks]

set on fire

chibs telford x f!reader (age gap, adult reader)

music: head over heels by tears for fears

when Jax explains that his distant, four times removed cousin, is notorious for turning down every guy on green earth, Chibs takes it as a challenge

word count: 1304

masterlist

"Who the fuck even brings their laptop to a clubhouse to work", there was a clear hint of irritation in Bobby's voice as he eyed the girl sitting in the distant booth, her laptop, all covered in stickers, on the table, three different mugs around it like an array of fallen flowers.

Chibs just chuckled, watching her. His teeth were stinging with the nagging desire to bite on a cigarette but his childish curiousity kept him here, in front of this unusual sight.

"Y/N does", Jax all but teleported behind them, spooking Bobby a little bit.

"Know 'er?" Chibs muttered, without taking his eyes off, pondering. Too young. Frowning too deeply, chewing on her mouth, stretching her neck without losing connection to the screen for a second. Looks like a load of job. But, most of all, too young.

"That's my thrice... four times removed cousin", Jax replied quizzically.

"Huh".

"Yeah... four times? I think so. My dad was, ugh... her... grandmother's nephew three times removed?"

"Are you asking me?" Chibs grinned lazily.

"Anyway, yeah, that's Y/N".

The blonde guy watched his two brothers piercing his relative with their focused eyes. Bobby shifted, pushing the glass of beer there and forth on the bar, and finally granted him a glance,

"So, is she off-limits, or no?"

Jax let out a thunderous short laugh, resembling a lion cub very much. His jaw unclenched happily with this roar for a second.

"I mean, I won't even tell you not to, guys".

His mind wondered into all of the instances and troubles these two gave to all of the poor girls; them together with Tig, were notorious for never skipping a single skirt. Some men had more hunger than others, but these two, they could devour the whole Charming if someone let them. For Bobby, it was the neverending search for the perfect one, the one who's going to finally spare him of his deeply tucked loneliness. For Chibs, it was the heat of the hunt. The Scottish Deerhound blood was circulating in his cunning, always smirking face. Sometimes Jax thought that Chibs was getting his revenge for something he, himself, was too young to witness. Telford never hurt them, no. Chibs was nothing but a tough, relentless, zero-bullshit, gentleman. But he did devour them, the girls. It was hard to tell who is unable to go without the other, Chibs without women, or women without Chibs.

He continued, watching a curuous smile growing on the man's face,

"You two have no chances anyway".

"That so?"

"She's too young for you, Bobby".

"Well", Jax sat down next to them, relaxing his back, "maybe not too young, but she's always kinda hated guys. I've never seen her with a boy when we were growing up, and I wouldn't be surprised if she still was a virgin now".

"You're telling me she's your age?"

"Yeah, the good genetics run in her family. Her mom also looks young", Jax nodded.

"So, maybe you can nail her mom", Bobby jeered towards Telford.

Jax noticed the evil sparkle in Chibs' eye immediately, got used to catching it. But this time, he was adamant sure that no light of day will be shown to him from his long removed sister.

"You guys pricing little Y/N?" boomed Clay, as he moved slowly from behind the bar, like an unbothered whale. "You told 'em how she set that poor fucker on fire when he tried feeling her up at Plop's birthday party?"

Jax nodded, grateful, as he was trying to scrape his skull with some examples to present the whole picture of misfortunes that await those who tries to enter Y/N's personal space.

"Yeah, that was the second decade of our lives, her mom brought her here and she was visiting Big Plop's fourteenth birthday. Big Plop was my classmate", he clarified, "and another one, I think Chris was his name..."

"Spotty Christopher", Clay nodded and clicked a can open.

"...and we were all jumping on this big orange bouncy castle. Y/N fell badly and slipped, and skinned her knee a little. I remember she was kind of sobbing, cradeling it, and us, the boys, we were laughing at her".

Chibs produced a 'tst' sound, the one he always performed when he witnessed injustice that he, himself, hadn't thought of earlier.

"And then Spotty Chris gets on the castle, pretending that he wants to help her, but instead, shoves his hand under her dress. I obviously got all worked up and pulled him off her, and we all though that was done. But then, fifteen minutes later, she just turns up next to us as we eat cake",

Bobby grinned at the picture of the young Vice President stuffing his mouth with cake,

"...and she has matches in her hand. And she lits his fucking hair on fire".

Jax let the last part hang in the air for a little.

"Might not be related to us too closely", Clay chimed in, "but I think she has that psycho chip in her".

Jax nodded.

All four heads turned towards the girl again, as she stretched her back and yawned, clenchign her fists, before rushing to the keyboard again.

"Sometimes I think she has a grudge against all men", Jax shrugged.

She wouldn't be wrong, Chibs thought.

"You got no chance", he heard Jax benevolently condemn Bobby, then think for a moment. He turned towards Chibs,

"You, maybe. She likes British people".

"Loikes Bri'ish, ey?" Chibs cheered, and her head snapped towards the sound. Across the bar, they all snickered lightly, watching her scan them with her eyes and then return to work.

So, there it is. Green light. Not that young, - if she's about Jackie Boy's age, then she's more than enough brains to know what to do with him.

Not too related, not so much that it'll make Teller's blood boil. Although he is quite protective of her, perhaps because they don't see each other that often. In all the ten years that Jax has joined them, Chibs never heard a whiff of this girl. Means they don't talk much.

[thecapricunt1616]

Daddy! Carmy on Fathers Day

Happy Fathers day everyone! I of course could not get Daddy Carmy out of my head today, so heres a drabble!!!

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

You’re woken up by the feeling of something small and firm poking your cheek, you opened your eyes to see your 4 year old son and his twin sister smiling big. You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face and sit up, rubbing your eyes “Hey guys-” 

“Shhhh!” Ivy, your daughter pressed her fingers to her lips and hushed you, “Daddy’s sweepin- come mama” she whispered, but a child whisper that was more like just barely quieter than her regular talking voice. Thankfully, over the past year or so since the kids weren’t breastfeeding anymore and Carmy wasn’t carrying them back and forth from their bedroom to you in the night, he had become more accustomed to sleeping through more noise instead of waking and jumping to check on them at every little fuss. 

You nodded and sit up, stretching a bit before carefully taking off your covers and grabbing your bathrobe after sliding into your slippers and holding their hands as you went off to the living room. “You guys remember what today is mm?” you ask and Levi giggles 

“Thats why we woke you! We gotta make special breakfast for daddy and- and I’m gonna draw him a picture! Can you get my crayons mommy please please?” he asked and went to grab his construction paper pad he left at their little craft table. 

“And I’m gonna help you with daddys breakfast mommy we can do pretty sparkle pancakes we can use my glitter my special glitter from my birthday!” Ivy dragged her little cooking tower to the counter as Levi whizzed around grabbing glitters and glue sticks and colored pencils.

“Crayons, Mommy! Need’a special sparkle blue” he sat on his knees in front of the coffee table and pushed up the sleeves of his toy story pajamas. 

“Yes- yes yes cubs theres one mommy and two requests, please, patience” That was one thing about these two, no patience, and all the fire you could imagine for two tiny Berzatto children. You wished they could have gotten the patience from their father - but, instead they got their fiery passion and drive from you, and your husbands ‘I want the best, so I'll be the best and everyone will agree that I'm the best’ attitudes. 

Both of them were already in the talented and gifted program in their preschool, and they were both already reading and writing at least at a second or third grade level. This was simply because you had been determined from the moment they were born to do absolutely all of the head start childhood education you could with them, that you never got the opportunity for in your childhood that you had to pay for later.

“For you - no eating it with a spoon missy” you place the edible glitter down in front of her and she giggled. You had Carmy bring home some of the glitter from the restaurant for her birthday cupcakes last year (yes they both got their own cakes or cupcakes, the two of you agreed when you found out you were having twins they would always feel like their own person) and the day after, Carmy came into your bedroom and asked if you forgot to close the pantry as you were doing your eyeliner for a night out, you asked why and when his response was 

“Please look at your daughter” with an air of amusement to his tone, and you looked up to see him holding your hot pink metallic glitter mouthed babygirl, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Aw no! Thats all daddy- shes just a natural born taste tester huh?”  You smiled at the memory as you plop down the 164 massive pack of crayons that Levi had suckered Carmy into buying for him when they went to Target together. Carmy swore he just went into the store for a new phone charger, but Levi just had to see the craft section, and with his big blue puppy eyes he just couldn’t say no when he asked to get them so they could ‘color pictures together with Ivy and Mommy’ He often fell prey to Levi’s begging, and he was much worse with it than Ivy. 

It was likely because his dad was so hard on he and his siblings when they were younger, he had told you alot of stories about his dad while you were pregnant. It was likely because he was so afraid to turn out like him. But Carmy had become very proactive which is a big change from his 20’s. He used to put things off, especially hard things until he physically could not avoid them anymore - but since he had learned about your pregnancy he had started going to therapy consistently to work out his feelings at the very least and understand them so he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father made with him.

“Thats right angel two eggs” you encourage as Ivy took another egg out of the carton and carefully tapped it on the counter like her dad had been teaching her basically since she had come home from the hospital. “Wow look at that huh- you been practicing with daddy without me?” you joked, kissing the side of her curly blonde hair sweetly and taking the shells to throw away.

“I been cracking them for daddy! I wanna learn how to do one hand like him” she said, carefully mixing together the batter with the child sized whisk you had gotten for her from her special drawer of cooking tools. When she was about two, Carmy had done a whole bunch of research into Montessori parenting, and how children when taught are way more capable of things then we give them credit for. He quickly started teaching them age appropriate things, and they even had a tiny little functioning fridge and sink at their height to prepare veggies and small things like bowls of cereal as he had taught them how to do those things by themself. Hopefully he said, by the time they were 7 or 8 they could safely use the stove, which it seemed like that was going to be the case because they were already able to use it fully safely while being supervised directly.

“An’ you gotta be careful mommy, ‘cause it’s hot you’ll get ouchie” she instructs as she holds her had a (very, likely overly cautious - but you preferred it that way) ways away from the pan that had the bubbling pancake batter in it, and drops 3 blueberries before clapping for herself with a proud smile and you do the same. “See! Good job!” she said happily and you rubbed her back gently 

“Thats right princess- a very good job! Mommy is gonna flip it now, okay, i’ll be super careful cause its hot right?” you repeat her words from earlier and she mutters a little ‘right’ as you flipped the pancakes over in the pan to reveal the perfect golden brown bottom. She always reminded you of her dad that way, getting all quiet and staring intently with her lip drawn between her teeth as she focused. 

“Mommy look! See thats Levi and thats Ivy and Mommy and Daddy and Auntie Sugar and Uncle Richie and Eva! And - and uncle Pete is at work I guess cause I forgot him- and here it says I love you daddy!” he shoves it in your hands and you take it gasping and smiling big at the colorful work.

“Wow baby!” You picked him up, holding him on your hip as you looked, “So pretty- daddy is gonna love this!” you kiss his cheek and set him back down and he took it, running off likely to make another picture and Ivy tugs your robe

“Mommy!! Take it off take it off!!” She said urgently and pointed. You grabbed the plate and the spatula, taking off the pancakes to reveal perfectly brown bottoms.  “See! All is well princess, now - how about some eggs for these pancakes, mm? You got out a bowl and a fork. It wasnt long until your pancake egg bacon coffee shindig had been assembled on a tray, as well as 2 pictures and a ‘Happy Fater Fathers Day Daddy We ❤ you!' Card.

You nudged open your bedroom door with your hip and your little carbon copies of your husband go racing in and jump on the bed, Ivy plops on Carmys chest and Levi snuggled into his side happily, ever the daddys boy, it was something that made Carmys heart melt since he never felt comfortable asking for love or attention from his own father, he was more then happy to give it to him.

He was up then, with a big bear yawn and a dramatic groan to make the kids laugh. "Do I know you two clowns? Honey- who let these little bedheads in our room?" he teases making them giggle harder.

"Its fathers day daddy! We made you breakfast!" Ivy said as if he could forget and he gasps

"You did?! No way whats on the menu this morning, Chef?" he kissed her cheek with a smooch before giving levi the same and they each snuggled into a side of him as he sat up, the comforter falling down to reveal a bare and much softer chest now, since fatherhood had definitely cut down on his free time that used to be spent at the gym. You loved it all the same, some days even more.

"Blueberry pancakes! Mommy helped and they have unicorn dust" she said and you smiled as you set the tray in his lap, taking your cup of coffee and sitting at his feet. His smile grew as he saw the drawings Levi made as well as the card.

"And what are these, mm?" he looks over at Levi and he smiled proudly and began going on a tangent to his dad about each little detail. Just simply because of the joy that came to your husband with being showered with all the love and attention he deserved -

Fathers Day was one of your favorite days of the year.

[gumballavocadoharry]

Secret songs, unspoken verses:

Harry adjusted his tie, the silk feeling smooth against his skin. Even after years in the spotlight, the pre-show jitters still fluttered in his stomach like trapped butterflies. From the window of his dressing room, the sprawling cityscape of London glittered, a familiar and beloved sight. Tonight was the Brit Awards, a pinnacle in the UK music scene, and he was nominated for Song of the Year. He took a deep breath, the crisp air doing little to calm the nervous energy thrumming through him.

He was Harry, the singer everyone knew for his upbeat melodies and heartfelt lyrics. Kind, sweet, gentle – the media often used these words to describe him, and he hoped they were true. He tried to be all those things, to radiate the warmth and understanding he genuinely felt for the fans who made his dreams possible. Beneath the charming exterior, though, beat a protective heart, fiercely guarding the most precious parts of his life.

He glanced at the lyrics scribbled on the notepad beside him. The words were raw, vulnerable, a stark contrast to the polished pop he was known for. These were the lyrics he wrote with ‘Skylark’, his mysterious songwriting partner. Skylark, whose words resonated with his on a level no one else’s ever had. Skylark, whose kindness mirrored his own, whose gentle spirit soothed his restless soul.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out, his voice warm.

His manager, James, entered, his usual brisk energy filling the room. “Ready, Harry? They’re about to start the red carpet.”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile. He was ready for the cameras, the flashing lights, the endless questions about his latest album and upcoming tour. But under his carefully constructed persona, a secret pulsed, a truth he held close, guarded as fiercely as a lion protected its cubs.

Across town, in a similarly opulent dressing room, Yn smoothed down the shimmering fabric of her gown. The dress, the makeup, the whirlwind of stylists – it was all part of the performance, the carefully curated image expected of a pop star. Inside, Yn felt a familiar shyness prickle her skin. She was known for her powerful vocals and emotionally charged ballads, songs that resonated with millions. Kind, sweet, compassionate – these were the words often used to describe her, labels she sometimes felt fell short of capturing the complexities within.

She glanced at the screen of her phone, a message from ‘Phoenix’: Nervous?

A small smile touched her lips as she replied: Terrified. You?

The response came back almost instantly: Immensely. But seeing you later will make it all worthwhile.

Phoenix. The pen name Harry used. The man who saw past the carefully constructed image, who understood the quiet whispers of her heart. Their connection was their sanctuary, a hidden garden where they could shed the weight of fame and simply be themselves. Their shared love for music had drawn them together, their shared vulnerability had forged an unbreakable bond. Their writing sessions, conducted in secret, late-night calls and encrypted messages, were the highlight of her often-chaotic life. His words were warm, loving, just like the man she knew him to be.

The secrecy was a burden, a constant tightrope walk. Every whispered conversation in a crowded room, every coded message, every carefully worded interview was a reminder of the world outside their bubble, a world that might not understand. But it was also a testament to their love, a testament to their desire to protect something so precious.

Later, backstage at the awards show, the air buzzed with anticipation. Harry navigated the crowded corridors, exchanging greetings with fellow artists, his smile never faltering. He caught a glimpse of Yn across the room, her emerald eyes sparkling under the bright lights. Their eyes met for a fleeting second, a silent acknowledgment, a shared breath in the chaotic symphony of the evening.

He felt a pang of longing, a yearning to reach out, to take her hand, to share the moment with her openly. But the cameras were everywhere, the watchful eyes of the media relentless. He forced himself to focus on the conversation with the artist beside him, the secret burning a little brighter within him.

Yn felt his gaze and a shiver ran down her spine. He looked dashing in his tailored suit, his dark brown hair styled perfectly, his green eyes holding a familiar warmth that calmed her anxieties. She offered a polite smile to the presenter interviewing her, her mind racing. Tonight was the night. The night they had planned, rehearsed, and agonized over.

The awards ceremony began, a blur of dazzling performances and heartfelt speeches. Harry’s heart pounded as his category was announced. He walked to the stage, a practiced smile on his face, and accepted the award for Song of the Year. His speech was graceful, humble, thanking his collaborators, his fans, his family. But he deliberately avoided mentioning ‘Skylark’, a silence that felt heavy, pregnant with unspoken words.

Yn watched from the audience, her palms damp. Her own nomination for Artist of the Year felt insignificant compared to the momentous decision they were about to make. When her name was called, she walked to the stage, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Her speech was short, her voice a little shaky with nerves.

As she walked backstage, Harry was waiting for her, his eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He took her hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.

“Ready?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

Yn squeezed his hand, a surge of boldness coursing through her. “More than ready.”

They walked hand-in-hand towards the main stage, a decision that sent a ripple of surprise through the backstage crew. The presenter looked at them, a question in his eyes.

Harry took the microphone, his voice clear and confident. “Thank you all for this incredible honor. There’s something I’ve wanted to share for a long time.” He glanced at Yn, his eyes filled with love. “Many of you know me as a solo artist, but I’ve had an incredible partner in my songwriting journey, someone whose words have inspired and challenged me.”

He paused, letting the anticipation build. “That person is the incredibly talented Yn, who many of you know for her own amazing work. But what you might not know is that Yn is also the writer behind the pen name ‘Skylark’.”

A collective gasp rippled through the audience. Cameras flashed, capturing the stunned expressions on the faces of the celebrities and industry executives.

Yn stepped forward, her voice clear and strong. “And Harry, the man I’m so proud to stand beside, is the writer behind ‘Phoenix’.”

Harry smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. “We’ve kept this part of our lives private for a long time, nurturing our connection away from the spotlight.” He took Yn’s hand again, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “And that connection,” he continued, his voice filled with warmth and love, “goes beyond songwriting. Yn and I are in love.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the frantic clicking of cameras. Then, a wave of applause erupted, starting tentatively, then growing in volume, fueled by surprise, excitement, and genuine warmth.

Yn leaned into Harry, her heart overflowing. He squeezed her hand, his gaze filled with adoration. The relief of finally sharing their truth washed over them, a sweet release after months of careful concealment.

Later, as they left the awards show, a sea of flashing lights and cheering fans greeted them. They walked hand-in-hand, no longer hiding, no longer whispering in the shadows. The world was watching, and for the first time, they were sharing their whole selves, their music, their love, their truth. Under the glittering lights of London, Harry and Yn, the singers who had found solace and strength in each other’s words, stepped into their future, together. The journey wouldn't be without challenges, but they faced it with open hearts, their love a melody finally sung for all the world to hear.

[kitchenisking]

Day 2

Derek Hale doesn't speak by Bashfyl - (Rating: T, Words: 5,091, sterek)

What if after Paige died Talia believed Peters words over Derek's? What if sixteen year old Derek lost his mate the night he found him, the night of the Hale fire. What if the universe decided there shouldn't be a Derek Hale who didn't have his own Stiles Stilinski?

Wolf Cub by moodwriter - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,946, sterek)

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

Devoured by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,298, sterek)

Breathless, Stiles shifted his gaze up and went red from the knowing smirk on the deific face. The man’s red eyes sparkled in the moonlight, glowing like two fires on the tips of the candles. One of his thick eyebrows was lifted in amusement.

He was the most beautiful being Stiles had ever seen. As was probably expected, considering he was the god of sexual desire.

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous - (Rating: Mature, Words: 48,520, sterek)

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.

There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.

He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

today by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 2,585, sterek)

[excerpt] Going to the farm had been fun, but the best part wasn't the maze or climbing the slide. Not even choosing the pumpkins. It was meeting Derek.

the hale pack shares three braincells by graveltotempo - (Rating: G, Words: 4,322, sterek)

Five times a member of the Hale Pack (2.0) did not believe Stiles and Derek were in a relationship, and one time someone finally clued them in.

OR: the one where Lydia and Boyd (and Cora) are smarter than everybody else.

Crazy Scary Beautiful by Elpie (Horribibble) - (Rating: T, Words: 1,644, sterek)

The guy just came in with a duffle bag full of knives and plopped them down on the counter, easy as you please. He’s standing there with a perfectly cheerful look on his face, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. 

-

In which Stiles Stilinski is probably a serial killer, but Derek falls in love anyway.

Brewin' Up Love by sugareey, wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 30,871, sterek)

The Pack runs Moon Tower Fermentarium, a popular brewery in Beacon Hills, and they are a refuge for supernaturals that need it. Stiles is happy to be Scott's Emissary and loves being the head brewer. His life is great. If only he could get over his feelings for Derek.

Derek finally feels like the Pack is settled and he is proud of what they've built. He doesn't need anything else. He has Stiles in his life as his friend and that's more than he deserves. If he wishes for more in the dark of night, that is between him and the moon.

OR The one where the Pack owns a brewery and Stiles is on fire with the puns. Also, there is angst.

If Only In My Dream by Karla_Kattz - (Rating: G, Words: 5,890, sterek)

Just to be with Stiles once! Maybe that's enough to erase that longing. "That can be arranged," a bright voice says behind him. Derek jumps from the bed, immediately beta-shifting and snarling at the intruder. The woman who is standing - no wait, she's floating, she's truly floating two inches above the floor - in the doorframe looks completely unfazed. In fact, she's even smiling. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" Derek grits out through his fangs, adding an unspoken 'and why didn't I notice you'? "Calm down, Wolf. I won’t harm you or your mate." Only then Derek notices the little glimmer that's surrounding her, the flawless skin she has, and how her blonde hair is softly swaying as if she was underwater. In combination with the floating- "You're a fairy," he says and wills his body to shift back. "Personally, I prefer the term 'fae', Alpha Hale, but you're not wrong," the creature chirps happily. "And I shall grant your wish."

———

An imagination spell allows Derek to daydream about Stiles and him, but things take an unexpected turn.

i am yours, just like you are mine. by buckysharons - (Rating: Mature, Words: 761, sterek)

derek’s (official) first time.

[huggaboos]

Deadpool's Grumpy Cub

( A grumpy little Logan is put down for a nap before dinner by the amazing Deadpool. Short-ish story )

A few weeks had gone by, and Wolverine had continued to visit Deadpool's place to regress whenever he felt stressed or overwhelmed after training at the X-men's mansion. Deadpool had taken on the role of his caregiver, taking great pride in his new responsibility... perhaps too well by Logan's standards.

They were currently hanging out in Wade's apartment, the sound of cartoons playing on the TV as he cooked dinner, pancakes, considering it was one of the few foods Logan would eat.

Wolverine, or rather little Logan, was in the middle of his regression, sitting on the floor with a pile of toys scattered around him. His eyes were wide with innocent awe as he played with a toy car. Deadpool glanced over at him with a fond smile, watching as the little mutant made engine noises with his mouth and occasionally became distracted by the bright, colorful cartoons on screen.

"Having fun there, little buddy?" Wade called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Logan looked up at him from his spot on the carpeted floor, a silly grin upon his face. "Vroom, vroom!" he exclaimed, making the toy car move faster against the floor.

Deadpool chuckled, setting down the spatula he was holding to walk over to Logan. "You're such a cute little kid, ya know that?" he teased, ruffling Logan's already tousled hair.

Logan made a small noise of protest, chewing on the wheel of his car. He seemed to relish the affection, his shoulders relaxing slightly under Wade's touch despite his frustrated expression.

"M' not a kid..." he muttered, his lower lip jutted out slightly in a childish pout.

Deadpool knelt down next to him, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh, really? Then what are you, huh? Must be a bear cub with all those little noises you're making." he teased, poking his side gently.

Logan swatted at his hand, but there was no real strength behind it, or claws thank the stars. He knew deep down that Wade was just playing with him, and honestly, he liked being taken care of.

"I'm... I'm an adult," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms in protest despite his behavior and the many toys scattered around him.

Deadpool chuckled again, amused by Logan's stubbornness even in his pouty, and adorable, regressed state. "Right, and I'm the Easter Bunny!" he joked while making a silly face, earning a disgruntled but slightly amused huff from Logan.

Deadpool smirked, seeing through Logan's tough facade instantly. "You're such a little pouty thing when you lose that adult ego of yours," he teased, pinching Wolverine's cheek affectionately as he plops down beside him on the floor.

Logan grumbled under his breath. Wade, being so caring and paternal, was making him feel so... whatever. He hated how Deadpool had the ability to make him feel so small, vulnerable, and definitely not loved and cared for.

"S-Shuddup..." he muttered, looking away to hide the fact that he didn't actually mind Deadpool's teasing.

Wade chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth as he watched Logan's embarrassed reaction. "Awww, no, no, that's not a very nice word, little cub. The big, bad Wolverine must be getting sleepy. I think somebody needs a nap before dinner."

Logan grumbles to himself, turning away, but the tired look in his eyes betrayed his true state. He was feeling sleepy and somewhat hungry, but he didn't want to give the infamous merc with a mouth the pleasure of being right.

"Don' need a nap..." he protested weakly, subconsciously leaning into Deadpool's side.

Wade chuckled, easily seeing through Logan's half-hearted protest. "Oh, yeah? You almost fell asleep in the pile of toys a minute ago," he pointed out, slowly standing up and gently guiding Logan into his arms.

"You need some shut-eye, and I know it. Can't have you falling face-first into your pancakes later, little Wolvie."

Wolverine opened his mouth to protest further, but a yawn escaped his lips instead. He quickly shut his mouth, his face flushing with embarrassment at the involuntary display of tiredness.

He hated to admit it, but his caregiver was right. He was feeling really sleepy, and the thought of taking a nap sounded more tempting by the second...

He grumbled under his breath again, a pout forming on his face. "Fine..." he muttered. "But I'm not a baby."

Wade smirked, fully aware that he had won this battle. "Alright, big guy," he joked, lifting Logan up from the floor and carrying him to the bed in the next room.

"Let's get you tucked in for a nap, yeah? Don't forget your favorite plushie."

With a small pout, Logan allows himself to be carried to the bedroom. Once placed on the bed, he reached out and grabbed a plush cat from the nearby pile of toys.

He held it close as Wade pulled the covers over him, a small feeling of comfort settling over him. Despite his earlier protest, he was secretly grateful for the care and attention he was receiving.

"Big boy, not liddle..." he mumbled once more, his speech already slurring with the onset of sleep.

Deadpool chuckled as he watched Wolverine cuddled up with his plushie, already half-asleep. "Of course, of course," he says softly while his tone remains affectionate.

He sat on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing Logan's back to help him fully relax. "You're just my big, tough guy who needs his nap, right?"

Wolverine hummed softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he snuggled further into the pillow. He wanted to protest once more, but his growing tiredness betrayed him. He muttered a barely audible response under his breath, something that sounded like, "Mm... mhm..."

Within a few minutes, the little mutant was fast asleep, clutching his plushie close to his chest.

Wade watched with a fond smile as Logan settled into peaceful sleep. He stayed by his side for a few moments, making sure his little guy is comfortable.

Once he was certain Logan was sound asleep, Deadpool got up and quietly left the room, shutting the door with a soft click.

Now, it was time to finish preparing dinner before his grumpy little baby boy woke up.

[convexicalcrow]

(one)

The thing about Vex magic and how it works is that it taps into the thing that motivates you the most, and for most people, it's usually either power, or pleasure. Vex magic feels good. It's intoxicating. You can be under its thrall and either feel like you're now the king of the world, or feeling so much pleasure that you can't even think. Sometimes both at the same time. Why do you think they keep coming back?

Cub swirled a little Vex magic around his fingers as Grian went over the lists again. Nothing substantial. It would do nothing more than feel nice. He saw it as a soft, shimmering blue light, dancing and twirling around his fingers, but he was sure Grian saw nothing at all. That was the point.

They'd been in here for two days now, trying and failing to sort every single resource into tiers and lists for permits for the shopping district. The overabundance of diamonds now made last season's prices woefully different to what came before. But so many new things had been found, too, on new worlds, that hadn't been around on old ones. Such was the diversity of the worlds the Hermetheus took them to.

How could you compare prices for something that had only been on the previous world? And the way people built these days was so different too.

Of course, some things would always be profitable. No one wanted to do book trades with villagers unless they had a good reason, but whoever was selling books would be very rich indeed. Other things, like bricks, might not see many sales at all, unless someone was super keen to build everything out of bricks and decided not to build a farm for it themselves.

Every iteration felt wrong, or felt like there was something out of place. So much of this was subjective, based on what they were all planning to build this time. There might be a run on concrete if there was a lot of modern builds going on, or there might not be. Copper might be popular if a few hermits were building with it, or it could just sit there and weather away.

Cub lifted the Vex magic up to look at it. It always had such a vivid colour, from diamond blue to silvery white to every shade in between. It glistened and sparkled and felt warm and cold and everything in between. He glanced up at Grian, who was sitting at his desk, head bowed, silent, thinking, writing. Gently, Cub blew the small speck of Vex magic over to him, watching it drift through the air and settle around his neck, almost like a comforting blanket or something.

Grian sat up, as if he'd noticed something, but then started stretching and stood up, sighing deeply.

"We're never going to get this finished at this rate," Grian said.

"Nah, we will, it'll just take a while. We know mostly what will work, it's just the odd little ones, the stuff we mostly forget to make shops for, that's what needs work. Do you need a break? Shall we go get some sunshine and fresh air?" Cub said.

"You know what? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Grian said.

-

They climbed up to the top of Cherry Mountain, settling by the campfire to eat some steaks and watch the sun set. Cub watched. He felt Grian might be pleasure over power, just based on past experience, but of course, you never could know for sure until they were captured in the thrall. That's when you knew someone's true motivations.

He thought about asking Scar, of course, but that would give the game away, and he would want to be involved. Or he'd try to talk him out of it, that could also be a possibility. No, this was his task, and his task alone. He had to work out what approach would work best, and if it wasn't power, that would mean charm and seduction instead, and that could be just as intoxicating for him as much as for Grian, depending, of course, on the kind of pleasure he responded to. Well, there was only one way to find out. He sat back, summoned a little more Vex magic, whispered to it, and sent it off, as Grian was gazing up at the sky and its glittering stars soaring above them.

This time, Grian shivered, and shifted a little closer to him. Cub wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Grian leaned into him, sighing happily, as if he'd been waiting for the offer. Cub hadn't made him do this, of course. That was not how the Vex wanted him to proceed. This must be a choice. All he'd done, really, was send him a nice feeling. Grian did the rest.

"How about we take a few days off. Come back to it with fresh eyes. I could really do with some new scenery, if I'm honest," Grian said.

"Yeah, sure, I mean, there's no hurry with this, is there, right?" Cub said.

"Well, no, not really, but it would be nice to have it done soon so people can start making shops. Otherwise, it'll just be chaos, and we'll be too late. You know what they're like," Grian said.

Cub smiled. "Indeed, indeed."

"Come on, snuggle up, it's a cold night," Grian said, bringing Cub close.

Cub didn't protest, only shifted a little closer. Thought about- well. No, not yet. Too soon. Later. Just watch. Just keep watch for now. The time will come, soothed the Vex in his head. The time will come. And Cub believed them. Why wouldn't he? Things would work out one way or another. He had time. No point in rushing this. He'd risk scaring Grian off, and that would not be a good thing. Better stay calm and patient and silent, and enjoy his company for what it was, as it was, sitting by the campfire as the night closed around them.

[newtonsheffield]

take me home country roads was probably the softest thing I’ve ever read I’m so obsessed with it that i read all the snippets you wrote in the hashtag for this story here! do you think you will ever write something in this universe again so we can have a little update for them? thank you for this one💚

Oh Muffin and Bear.

I miss those two softies. They were so sweet. They really helped one another heal and I think because of that their relationship is really strong. And their children would be so loved.

Imagine the very first time Neddy whittled something for Kate. Imagine how Neddy’s always sat with Anthony in his workshop, sat on the bench watching his Dad work, fascinated as he watches the shapes appear.

“Can I make something, Papa?”

Anthony knelt in front of his son, five years old and Anthony still can hardly believe Kate found him. Let alone the two beautiful children they have and a third on the way. His chest feels tight every time he watches Kate with their sons, the swell of her stomach just visible when they pile onto the sofa around her, desperate to be as close as possible to her while she reads to them with her chin resting on the tops of their heads. His wife and their children.

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah!” Neddy grinned at him with his curly hair falling in his eyes, his feet swinging over the edge of the table. “I wanna be like you!”

It had brought tears to his eyes the first time they had let Neddy pick out his own clothes and he’d ended up with a pile that looked just like Anthony’s half of the wardrobe and he’d let them fall with his head against Kate’s chest and he fingers in his hair.

“Of course he wants to be like you. You’re a great father, Bear.”

Anthony kissed his son’s forehead, ruffling his hair. “Let’s make something for Amma then.”

It takes weeks. Weeks and weeks of Neddy’s hard work. His determined frown and his frustrated pout before finally it’s done and he takes them inside, wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Mummy!” Neddy rushed forward, the parcel big in his hands as he races towards Kate sat at her easel with Miles on her lap as she works, Newton dozing at her feet. “Amma I made something!”

Kate smiled at their son and Anthony’s chest felt tight when she kissed his cheek, wrapping him in her arms tightly for a moment. “Did you? That’s so amazing little cub. Did Daddy help you?”

Her eyes met Anthony’s sparkling at him in the fading light of the day. And Anthony shifted slightly, still lost for words when he looked at her sometimes. “Just a little. It’s mostly his work.”

“Well, let’s see then.” Kate hummed, tugging carefully at the twine while Neddy practically vibrated with excitement as the paper slipped away.

Four bears on a log. That’s what Neddy had wanted to make. They were a little lumpy and imperfect but he’d made them with love and Anthony could see the way Kate swallowed thickly as she ran her fingers over the roughly oiled carvings.

“Neddy, it’s beautiful.”

“It’ll hold your brushes.” He said proudly. Leaning in to the touch of Anthony’s hand on his shoulder. “Daddy made the holes. That’s Papa, and Me, and Miles and the new baby.” He pointed to the Bear and his three cubs.

“You did such an amazing job, baby.” Kate’s voice shook as she kissed his face again, “I am so proud of you.”

Neddy took a deep breath, his chest puffing out, “Can we call gramma Mary and Violet so I can show them?”

“Absolutely, go and grab my phone.”

Neddy raced inside and Miles took off after him, desperate to catch up to his brother.

Kate stood slowly, wrapping her arms around Anthony’s waist and pressing her face against his chest. She breathed deeply, “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

Anthony huffed, holding his wife tighter, “It was hard. He was so cute about it but I took lots of videos.”

Kate sighed, leaning back in his arms, “Ugh who would’ve thought the grumpy bear I stayed next to one Autumn would make such sweet babies?”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s so incredible to be right about everything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

[thewolffairytaler]

The little sheep and the bear cub - part 11 | Thomas Hewitt x female reader

_____________________________

Summary: Four years has passed since the little sheep had decided to flee from Newt in Travis County. With her extremely limited driving skills, she managed to settle down in Louisiana. It was tough at first, but she managed to get herself a new job at a corporate company and a small but comfortable apartment. Yet even after all these years, she can't help but still feel depressed over her life.

Warning: Suggestions over deep thinking about suicide.

A vibrant group of boys gathered around a makeshift circle created in the sand at the kindergarten playground, their laughing resonating like music as the sun shone through the trees. As they alternated aiming for the valuable marbles spread out in front of them, their hands clutched colourful marbles, their eyes glimmering with joy and a hint of wickedness. A plethora of jokes and light-hearted conversation interrupted each tug at the string of competition, creating an electrifying environment. Today, instead of using their pocket money to buy loose sweets, they were playing for something special: a jar full of luminous marbles that they had all pooled together. The temptation of ownership and a mystical light in the dark were promised by the marbles.

In order to maintain equality among the group, they came to a sweet agreement: the winner would always use the prized marbles in their circle, sharing the happiness they brought instead of keeping them for himself. Their sense of mutual respect were emphasised by the excellent compromise. After looking down too much to see how one of the lads was attempting to smash several marbles at once from various angles, the boy holding the jar was pushing up his glasses as they gathered.

A ginger boy stood in the middle of this enthusiasm bubble, his brown eyes glimmering with resolve as he readied himself to fire his shot. Hugo, his devoted buddy, drew close to him, his face solemn. "Wait up," he commanded. "Isaiah wins if you miss." A boy with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief, Isaiah towered above the others. He was well-known for being an expert at marbles and frequently cleaned up the games, letting everyone know that if he got more than four marbles, the day was his. The tension in the room increased as Hugo watched the ginger boy's fingers hover over the stone; the excitement of the game was evident. Knowing that this one toss would determine the fate of the marbles and their pride, the other guys held their breath, engrossed in the moment.

As the ginger boy in the middle of the activity was clearly nervous as he got ready for his turn. He concentrated hard on the marbles in front of him, but when he eventually flicked his finger, just one of them pushed out of the circle, which was a long cry from the performance he had in mind. As he stood on the sidelines, Isaiah couldn't contain his relief, which was a mixture of real laughing and sympathy for his friend's plight. The other boys' reactions to the situation varied. Some people's faces softened as they acknowledged the worry that had probably affected the blond boy's flow, and they felt a tinge of sympathy for him. Others, however, compared the ginger boy's turn to their own experiences and exchanged knowing looks and silent assessments.

Tanner said, laughing, "Well, at least you didn't miss!" Which caused some people to laugh. His tone, however, was tinged with that equivocal blend of encouragement and light-hearted taunting, recognising the ginger boy's attempt while also emphasising the failure. The ginger sighed, a hint of frustration crossing his face as he responded, “I was too nervous! It totally messed up my flick.” The nervousness of trying to impress his friends had taken its toll, and the playground turned into a mix of encouragement and light-hearted jabs. His honesty softened the mockery, reminding the group that the spirit of the game was not solely about winning but also about having fun. Even though the rules state that once you kick out a marble, it is yours. The boys dosen’t take those marbles for themselves, mainly because they don't want to explain to their parents that they lost all of their marbles to their friends, but also because the idea that the kindergarden as well as the parents would ban them for ever playing it again.

A Hispanic boy with an enthusiastic smile, passionately reminding Isaiah, “It’s your turn now!” The curly-haired boy nodded, his playful demeanour shifting to intense concentration as he crouched down in the sandbox. Focusing intently on the arrangement of the marbles, he meticulously steadied his shooter, analysing the angles with a calculated gaze. He flicked his wrist to move the marbles over the sand, causing them to collide and spin in a rainbow of hues. The lads looked in wonder as he let go of his shot, sending a rush through the air. Seven marbles fell out to their joy, the gratifying clinks sounding like triumphal bells. When Isaiah realised he had won the game, the circle erupted in applause and gasps of surprise. His glasses-wearing companion complimented him on his abilities and triumph as he reached out to hand him the jar of glow-in-the-dark marbles with delight.

They were poised to embark on another round of marbles. With wide grins plastered on their faces, they beckoned Isaiah closer, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You can use the glowing ones this time!” they urged their voices a chorus of enthusiasm as they imagined the mesmerising spectacle of the marbles dancing in the twilight. Just as Isaiah reached for the jar, eager fingers inches away from gripping the treasure within, their plans were abruptly halted. A kind and patient kindergarten teacher approached, her smile slightly tinged with urgency. “Isaiah, your mother is here to pick you up,” she announced, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. The jovial atmosphere shifted, heavy disappointment hovering in the air as the boys exchanged glances that mingled frustration with understanding. They couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of losing another chance to enjoy their luminous game, but in true camaraderie, they quickly rallied. “We can play with those marbles again tomorrow!” one boy exclaimed, and the group nodded in unison, bonding over the promise of another game.

As the kindergarten teacher gently guided Isaiah back toward the school building, he felt a bittersweet twist in his stomach. Behind them, the laughter of his friends echoed dimly, their hopeful plans blending into the fading light. Returning to the hallway, anticipation turned into warmth as he noticed his mother patiently waiting, with Isaiah’s school supplies neatly packed in his bag. The three-year-old boy with his little legs sprung into action, carrying him joyfully in her direction. As he put his tiny arms around her waist and experienced the love and security that only a mother could offer, his heart raced with anticipation. He held the jar of colourful marbles in his other hand, their smooth surfaces gleaming in the sunlight.

As she knelt down to meet her son’s eager gaze, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the jar. Curiosity filled her eyes as she asked where he had gotten the marbles. Isaiah, with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, signed to her that he had won them. This proclamation left his teacher standing nearby in a state of confusion, her brow furrowing as she tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. But Isaiah, with the innocence that only a child possesses, expertly sidestepped the teacher's inquiry, his attention already shifting to the next adventure. He tugged at his mother’s hand, urging her to leave. His mother said goodbye to the teacher with a smile and a comforting voice, but Isaiah didn't have time to linger. In a small gesture full of youthful enthusiasm, he waved heartily at the woman. For him, the simple pleasure of being with his mother was more important than the queries of marbles or his teacher's inquisitive stare. Isaiah believed that the only thing that really mattered was to be with the ones he loved.

A little wind rustled the leaves above them as they walked the meandering road, providing a calm setting for their return trip. The vivid greens of the surrounding forests were illuminated by the golden glow of the warm Louisiana sun. But even in this beautiful environment, the tiny child couldn't help but notice the strange quiet that pervaded their stroll. Normally lively and talkative, his mother was silent, her mind obviously lost in some far-off concern. He had come to identify these times; she referred to them as her "bad days," but he was never quite sure why they happened.

The youngster snuck looks at his mother with every step, examining her furrowed brows and the way her eyes seem to be focused on something far away, as though she was looking for answers in the distance. Since they were in their own little universe, surrounded by the scent of blossoming jasmine and the sound of cicadas lulling the day, he wished he could reach out and draw her back into the warmth of their shared moment. His voice was quiet, yet there were many unanswered questions in his heart. Could he make her laugh or bring her back to a discussion about his favourite things, such as the funny antics of the school pets or the odd forms of the clouds above? When they arrived back in their hometown, his mother told him that they needed to go and buy some groceries first. Reminding him that they didn't have much food in the fridge at the moment.

As (Y/n) walked through the familiar aisles of the local grocery store, a sense of nostalgia washed over her. The brightly colored boxes and bustling atmosphere reminded her of simpler times, but there was a solemn undertone that tugged at her heart. With Isaiah by her side, she grabbed items from the shelves, her mind racing through the list of essentials. She felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her, especially knowing that the pantry was nearly bare. Yet, amidst the hum of conversation and the beeping of registers, a gentle warmth emerged from her son’s presence.

Isaiah watched her intently as they moved from aisle to aisle. Suddenly, his small hand tugged at her sleeve, and he turned to face her, a hopeful expression blossoming on his face. In a world where words often failed him, he made a simple gesture, mimicking the act of stirring a bowl—a sign that lit a spark of joy in (Y/n)'s heart. He wanted to bake cookies together, a cherished tradition that often transformed their home into a haven of warmth and sweetness. It was his way of reaching out, hoping to lift her spirits, knowing full well the shadows that had been creeping into their lives.

(Y/n) smiled at Isaiah, feeling the heaviness in her chest begin to lift at his request. Baking cookies would not only bring a sense of normalcy but also create an opportunity for cherished memories and laughter to echo through their home once more. "Of course, sweetheart," she replied, her voice soft but filled with encouragement. "Let’s pick up some chocolate chips and sprinkles so we can make it special." Together, they continued their shopping, each item selected bearing the promise of a joyful evening ahead, a step towards healing, and a reminder that even in the tough days, love and connection could lead them back to brighter moments.

The crisp fall afternoon air blended with the familiar aroma of fresh produce as Y/n and Isaiah made their way back to their flat. They had a brown paper bag full of colourful fruits in one hand and two plastic bags full of vegetables hanging from the other. The warm glow of their comfortable home welcomed them back as the flat door creaked open, and they entered. Y/n smiled and said, "I'll take the carrots if you grab the apples," as they started their daily grocery-packing routine. The repetitive unpacking was oddly reassuring because it was usual.

Ripe tomatoes lined up in a bowl on the counter, crisp lettuce tucked in the vegetable drawer—everything had its proper place in the kitchen. They talked and exchanged brief anecdotes about their week despite the day's tasks. Y/n watched with satisfaction as her kid neatly stacked the Tupperware on the shelf where it belonged, holding the lid just a bit too high for his small frame. At that moment, she had a thought and turned on the television, hoping to find anything positive in the nightly news amid the regular stories of mayhem. But when the screen came to life, she stopped in the middle of her movement when she heard an unsettling announcement. She was quickly drawn in by the news anchor's urgent yet curious tone of voice. Her earlier task of putting groceries away was suddenly forgotten as Y/n's heart raced. Her mind was buzzing with questions as she watched affar from the screen. Her son, noticing that she was preoccupied, followed her gaze, his young eyes full of wonder, and they both turned to the TV to find out what had captivated their attention so thoroughly.

The news shifted to a lost footage of a crime scene, where a sheriff was exploring a house with a camera man whilst holding a mic.

"This is August 20th, 1973. The location is at the Hewitt residence. We're going to move to the actual furnace room, watch yourself, look out." The black and white footage shows how they were walking down some stairs. The bottom of the basement was flooded with water. Possibly from the rain. "Ugh... ah man, ahh. Look out, you got it? Alright, this is the actual furnace room, going into. Where they... expected to portray... got a bit of a jump there. Come on back here, follow me."

The camera zoom could be heard by a clicking noise, the sheriff continued on talking, until something made him scream in fear and try to run away. The camera couldn't catch what it was, but it did catch the sheriff's body falling to the ground, as the cameraman struggled to escape from a much more intimidating figure. It was quite difficult to tell due to the camera shaking so much, but you could see it was a man with some kind of mask on. The footage then immediately shifted to a funeral, where the news reporter narrated everything.

"The crime scene was not properly secured by Travis County police. Two investigating officers were fatally wounded that day." The footage went back to the mysterious man, except this time it was slowed down to a picture status. "This is the only known image of Thomas Hewitt, the man they call Leatherface. The case today still remains unsolved."

The room fell silent as the television flickered off, the sudden absence of noise amplifying the tension in the air. (Y/n)’s hand trembled as she placed the remote onto the coffee table, each movement deliberate yet heavy with an unspoken weight. Her face remained a canvas of stillness, a blank expression that offered no insight into the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. It was a quiet kind of devastation, as if the images and sounds that had just filled the space had been too much to bear, too vivid to process. With a deep, shuddering breath, she brought her palms to her face, a gesture that spoke volumes; it was a moment of surrender, a fragile attempt to shield herself from the world outside her apartment. Each trembling finger pressed against her skin as if to hold back the tide of emotions threatening to break free. In that stillness, there was a profound sense of loss, the kind that lingers long after the last scene fades from the screen.

Isaiah sensing the sudden chill in the atmosphere, approached with cautious curiosity. He tilted his head, his small features knitted in concern for the woman who always wrapped him in warmth and laughter. “Mama?” He mouthed, his soft voice that only could let out noises. Reached out, his tiny hand brushing against her arm, seeking a connection that had suddenly felt tenuous. In the depths of her stoicism, he could see fragments of worry, a fog that he instinctively knew was not his to bear, but it tugged at his little heart nonetheless. His innocent concern flowed from his eyes as he stood there, a beacon of love and worry, hoping to draw her back from wherever she had drifted during that silent moment.

Feeling her silent cub nearby, the woman put her hands down as her sight was staring directly into the face that might as well have belonged to the patriarch when he was younger. Her left palm went up to caress the boy's cheek after trying to find something that didn't exist with her boy, no trace of whatever worried her every single day since the day he was concieved. As she then scooped him into her arms, and made him sit on her lap as she hugged him tenderly. Having him sit there in silence for a while before she pulled away and asked Isaiah; "Do you want to do those cookies now?" Her soft questioning tone and caring tone immediately calmed his anxieties. Knowing that these times spent together were significant to them both, he nodded, a gentle smile piercing his worry.

She carefully put him down as she took hold of his little hand to guide him back to the kitchen again.

"Okay, let's go and bake then." Gathering the ingredients and beginning to mix them together. (Y/n) guided Isaiah through the process, letting him help with the smaller tasks. As the scent of cookie dough fills the house, (Y/n) and Isaiah share a smile, the tension from earlier having dissipated. Making them was a process of extreme silence unless there was a need for necessary speaking. When they were done making the cookies, (Y/n) put them in the oven and made sure to put the kitchen timer on. And to make sure that the time went by quickly for the both of them, they decided to play some uno together, a new game that came around two years ago.

When the timer eventually goes off, signalling that the cookies are done, (Y/n) removed the tray from the oven and carefully transferred the cookies onto a cooling rack. Isaiah is beaming with pride as he watches the results of the teamwork.

"Now comes the fun part," (Y/n) told him, pulling out various containers of icing and sprinkles. Isaiah eagerly picks up a small icing bag, and (Y/n) helps him fill it. "You can try spreading the icing first, junior." She encouraged him, watching as he concentrated on the task at hand. He does a decent job, and she's pleased to see his growing sense of independence. (Y/n) helped him by adding the sprinkles and decorations, creating beautiful and colourful masterpieces together.

As they both sit down to enjoy the sweets of their labour, (Y/n) takes a moment to appreciate the bonding experience they've shared. Isaiah seems to have completely forgotten her earlier sadness, and that's all that mattered to (Y/n) at that time. As she looked into his now-happy eyes, (Y/n) vows to find more ways to connect with him and create special moments that make his neediness feel less like a burden and more like the loving attachment between a mother and her son.

The rest of the day went by doing multiple things, teaching further with Isaiah’s ability to read (putting her fingers gently on his throat to see him pronounce it correctly). Making sure to do her own paperwork at the corporate company she worked for, letting Isaiah watch some cartoons and ending the day by putting Isaiah to sleep. Y/n had returned to the couch in the living room as she quietly stared off into space, not making a single sound as her mind and eyes just looked like they were missing something. As if the shooting stars in her eyes were darker than normal, as if the stars turned into black holes instead.

As she looked down to the coffee table, she noticed the leftover papers she had put down for Isaiah to draw. He had left his drawing of their apartment, and she was prominently featured in the picture. In the drawing, her arms were wide open, ready to scoop him up in a big, warm hug. It was like one of those family drawings children sometimes do. Even though his drawing was sweet, that's not the one she was focusing on at the moment. Her main priority was to write her mind down, like the way she dies with her journal. She could go and get it. It was in her room after all, but it felt right writing it on a piece of paper. She hesitated at first, not knowing how to say it in words, but eventually figured it out how she wanted it to turn out.

22nd/08/1973

Did you know, junior, that Isaiah means salvation of the lord? I named you that because I wanted God to always help you, even when I'm not here. God had never blessed me with anything, well, until I had you. I think you are my proper blessing, I did have anathor blessing before you, but it wasn't permanent. I thought it was going to be, or actually, I prayed for it to be. However, because of life's circumstances, it never did get further than me having you.

I have regretted a lot of things in life because I have done a lot of stupid things, but I've never once regretted having you. Even in the most toughest situations, I was happy to have you around. Your mama never was a social butterfly, and those I talked to were few. It's kinda sad to think about it, but that's how it has always been. Same thing about me being sad at times, I used to be sad all the time, actually. But over the years, it has gotten a bit better.

I won't lie to you, Junior, I'm tired. I've been tired for a while now, I've been thinking a lot these days and... I don't know if I can keep this up any longer. But a part of me is too afraid to suddenly stop. If I do stop, who's going to take care of you? Who's going to make sure my baby doesn't end up getting hurt? I don't trust anybody besides your godmother enough to leave you. And even then, the guilt over not staying for your sake just makes my heart feel heavier by the second. I don't want to leave you, trust me, sweetie, I really don't. I love you so much to ever think about it, but I'm hurting so much, and I don't know how to stop it. If I do end up disapearing one day, please, promise me two things.

I don't want you ever to go looking for your papa, he's... he's not a good man. Not anymore. He and his family will only bring you trouble, and I don't want that for you. I only want you to live a long and happy life. That's what Mama wants for you. The second thing I want you to promise me is as simple as pie, but it means so much to me. No matter what happens, keep that pure heart of yours, alright? My junior, please be good.

Xoxo - Mama (Y/n)

A couple of tears slipped out of (Y/n) eyelids as they landed on the coffee table and a bit on the paper. She made sure to fold it as she went towards her room to hide it in her journal that was in her book case, saving it there if something did occur to her. She then moved back to the hallway, having only one goal left tonight.

Y/n silently pushed the door open, the moonlight softly poured through the drapes, illuminating the room with a lovely radiance. Looking at her son, sleeping soundly on his large bed with the blankets a little loose, made her heart fill with love. She smiled tenderly as she walked carefully on the soft carpet, being cautious not to make any noise that would wake his sound sleep.

His rapid growth was brought home to her with every stride, and she felt a rush of nostalgia for the time when he was still a small baby curled up in her arms. She crouched down as she got closer to the bedside, giving herself a chance to appreciate the calm way he breathed, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady cadence. She was drawn in by the purity of his dreams and was overcome with a want to be near him, to surround him with love and support.

With the utmost care, she crawled under the covers beside him, wrapped her arms around his small body. As though time had stopped, she embraced him, savouring the simplicity of the moment. As they lay there together, she heard his smooth breathing, each soft sigh serving as a reminder of their shared connection. For those few priceless minutes, the world outside vanished and they were alone in a cocoon of unwavering love. Knowing that she could keep him warm and comfortable in this peaceful place till the break of morning brought her a sense of calm that only a mother could comprehend.

Author's note: I'm not crying. You're crying! This is the final part of this series. Perhaps this wasn't the ending you wanted. But it's one where I felt that I wanted to see something different happen. So many Thomas Hewitt fanfics out there end up with you being with Thomas, and all though that's what we want. They aren't actually fulfilling in a way where everything is good, because at the end of the day, you're stuck with a cannibalistic family who are constantly in danger and are toxic as hell itself. And it dosen’t help that I wrote little sheep as a traumatised individual. I have plans to possibly do a spin-off series where Isaiah is the protagonist and will eventually meet the Hewitt family, but I don’t know if I should do it or not. If this series does end up getting well received and you like this idea. Maybe I'll make it become reality, but I'm not promising anything.

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants 2

Part 1

Wayne was in the kitchen, cooking with Eddie. Steve was lounging in their living room nest, watching as Vanessa crawled around, babbling to herself. She crawled over to him, still making random noises while patting his face. She was just as talkative as her sire. Even now, Steve could hear him from the kitchen, going nonstop over the tv and sounds of cooking.

“She’ll probably start talking before she even gets her first teeth”, Beatrice said from up on the couch. She had her granddaughter Violet in her arms as she dressed her in a new outfit. It was a lavender onesie with her name embroidered on it. Vanessa was already in her own, colored yellow.

Steve adored all their little clothes. “You’re so precious baby”, Steve said, interrupting Vanessa’s speech. 

She bapped him on the mouth and he just bit it gently, eliciting a gummy smile from her. He sat up, bringing her into his arms. They were only six months old and yet they already looked so different from their newborn stage. Both of them had gained weight and filled out, a relief to Steve who had been worried about their skinny limbs at birth.

Vanessa had only a few wisps of hair that had since then began to bloom right on top. The sides and the back of her head were still a bit bare but she looked adorable all the same. Violet’s head was more full but still curled only just slightly. Beatrice told Steve they were sure to see the girl’s true textures by the time they were a full year old.

Steve had always prided himself on his own hair. The Hair had literally been his name in high school. But admittedly, he didn’t have any experience dealing with curly hair of any kind. He had been watching tutorials though, wanting to do right by his girls when their hair really started to come in.

Dinner was pretty much always a family affair when they could do it. The band was still busy at times. But that made the moments when all eight of them could be together special. Eddie and Jeff both had their girls in their laps, feeding them from bottles that Steve had pumped earlier. Vanessa was already holding the bottle on her own. Violet could too, but she seemed to like it when others held it for her.

There was never a lull in conversation when all of them gathered, the conversation flowing from how the Cubs were doing, to what the band was doing next, to the twins, to opinions on grilling techniques. How things had changed from the lonely dinners Steve had alone in his apartment not too long ago.

The bottles put the girls halfway asleep and their fathers finished the job, settling them in their cribs for the night. Wayne and Beatrice turned in too, leaving Steve and the others to cuddle downstairs. Having all these hands to help with the babies was a great blessing. Still, Steve was getting a little stir crazy in this house.

He laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder, whining a little. Eddie immediately gave his full attention.

“What is it, baby?”

“You promised me a beach”, Steve said, a little petulant. 

“We’ve been-”, Eddie started before cutting himself off. There’d been plenty of times he’d seen Steve half dressed, tanning in the sun, but that had always been by a pool. They had yet to go to a beach together. And he needed to fulfill that promise right away.

Steve had been prepared to wait patiently for the schedule to loosen up more for them to go. But he was surprised when a few days later Eddie told him to pack his bags because in just a couple of days they would be in France.

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

“Well, what do ya think?”, Eddie asked, arm around his shoulders. 

Steve had on shades and trunks and he lifted the shades to get a better look at the beautiful sands and sparkling waters. The perks of being a sugar baby meant private beaches with hardly anyone around. Steve caught a few people in the distance, with nothing breaking the lines of their bodies. A private nude beach.

“It’s perfect”, Steve purred. 

Grant kissed his shoulder and then led the way to set up their own little area. A wide umbrella and they kept it simple with just a large towel to lay on. The moment they were settled, Steve shed the trunks and the rest followed suit. Steve was the first to rush into the water and Eddie was drawn to him like an alluring siren. Except instead of leading him to his doom, Steve trapped him in a splash fight.

Jeff and Grant joined in, while Gareth played the long game, wading close by until Steve was distracted. He grabbed him by the ankles, upending him. Steve came back up, sputtering and laughing, hair covering his face. He wrapped his arms around Gareth’s shoulders, leaning in close and then blowing a salty raspberry in his face.

“Agh! You tease!”, Gareth wiped his face.

Steve quirked a brow, taking that as a challenge. He dipped back down under the water then came up slowly, pushing his hair off his forehead while giving Gareth a sultry look over his shoulder. He then started to step towards the beach, knowing they were watching his hips and ass as more of it was revealed while he walked to the shore. He got to their place and sat down, beckoning the four of them over with just his eyes. 

Grant cut through the water the fastest and Eddie wiped out a few times in his haste but soon they were all around him. Grant was at his side, making Steve turn his head for a soft kiss. He nibbled his bottom lip and then kissed at Steve’s neck, giving special attention to the bond bite that Eddie had left.

If his rumble of approval hadn’t given him away, Steve would’ve known Eddie by his scent, spicy with want. Steve opened his eyes, feeling a hand on his thigh and seeing Gareth down by his waist.

“Who’s the tease?”, Steve smirked.

“I didn’t mean it”, Gareth said quickly, kiss his hip.

Eddie settled behind Steve, taking his lips for himself. In his bliss he could feel Jeff’s hands playing with his nipples, then cupping his breasts. Eddie wasn’t the only one who had taken a liking to his milky tits. All of his mates had done so, lavishing him, telling him how lucky their pups were to get something so sweet.

Then he heard Grant release a low growl, one in a warning tone that he’d never heard from the beta before. Steve opened his eyes to see another man standing a few feet away. A distance that wasn’t really respectable given their location. Most guests normally kept to themselves. Steve could guess what brought him over though. Gareth’s hand covered his pussy as his legs splayed out. 

It twitched a little at being watched by a stranger, but he waited for his alpha to speak.

“Can we help you?”, Eddie asked in a bitchy tone that really said ‘get lost’. 

“I was just…”, the man trailed off but his half-mast cock spoke for him.

“I think he wants a show”, Jeff confirmed.

Eddie curled Steve’s wet hair around his finger, dangling him like a piece of meat. Steve looked up at him, waiting to hear what he’d say and his hips shifted under Gareth’s cover. Eddie looked down at him, lips breaking into a smile as he kissed his forehead.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”, he asked, noticing that Steve hadn’t simply closed up or shied away.

Steve just let out a whine. He wanted his mates. He cared very little of some random alpha got off to it.

“I kinda feel bad for him”, Grant said, hand stroking up and down Steve’s sides. “He’ll never get to taste him.”

“Might as well let him see what he’s missing”, Gareth agreed, fingers starting to rub Steve’s cunt.

The man’s eyes were drawn there, trying to catch a peek between Gareth’s fingers, swallowing and getting harder. Steve let out a sigh when a finger finally went inside. Sometimes when there was a disparaging fan online, Steve wanted to throw something like this in their faces. To show the world how much he was adored and how much he loved his pack in return.

This right here was the next best thing. The man moved closer, stroking himself but didn’t cross the imaginary borderline that started at the edge of the towel. Eddie switched places with Grant, who squeezed Steve’s tits from behind.

“Fuck is he…?”

Eddie grinned as a drop of milk spilled from a nipple. “He is. Just had two of the most gorgeous pups. And more on the way if I have any say.” He kissed the stretch marks on Steve’s torso.

Then Gareth spread Steve’s lips as Grant lifted him onto his cock. He loved feeling all their hands on him, working together to bring him over the edge. He was sat down fully and leaned back against Grant, letting both Jeff and Eddie suckle at him. Jeff squeezed the swell of his breast, letting the milk fall naturally in his mouth while Eddie sucked and even bit at his nipple, demanding more. 

Grant lifted his hips and then brought him down, moving Steve’s body as he pleased. He couldn’t even hear his own panting over the sounds of skin meeting skin. Eddie had said more pups, would he carry Grant’s this time? His hips rolled, imagining his belly getting full by the time they got back to the states.

Eddie pulled off his tit with a groan and milked him more, letting it run down his body, some dipping into his belly button, which Gareth greedily licked up. 

“You were made to be pupped up, baby. Look how much milk you got”, Eddie preened, eyes transfixed as it continued to run down to his bush, even getting to his cunt, making an already slick situation even wetter. 

“Daddy, Daddy, oh Daddy please”, Steve panted but couldn’t be sure if he was speaking to just one or all of them. Because that was the truth wasn’t it? It wasn’t just Eddie, they were all his daddies now, and he, their baby.

When Steve came he was sure it could be heard over the crashing waves and that was a good thing. If he had drawn a whole crowd, it was a good thing. He wanted them to see the way Grant’s cum dripped out of him when his dick slipped out. Gareth was on him immediately, licking up his body and rocking his cock against Steve’s clit. It was on the precipice of just too much and had his hands digging into Gareth’s back.

“Gotta keep you plugged up, gotta keep it in”, Gareth said while pushing inside, fucking Grant’s cum back into him.

Steve whimpered against his mouth, hands moving up his spine to pull at his hair instead. Eddie kissed his temple.

“Make sure it takes”, he said before looking at the stranger and the mess he’d made on the sand. With only a subtle nod of the head, Eddie sent him on his way. He didn’t mind showing other folks the treasure he’d found, but only pack got to touch.

Part 3

[crying-fantasies]

Lineage

When Dinobot lost you years ago, he thought that that was it, you were long gone to wherever your heart, your soul, would wander and rest forever, he didn't even had a moment to mourn, his time and conscience were dragged in darkness, he could barely remember the sparkling crying on his arms, he was reaching out to the space bridge, shouting out loud to any beastformer to run for their lifes when some started to stop dead on their tracks and returned from where they came from.

It pained him dearly to leave his home, fighting back was impossible, Dinobot himself saw Megatron and Optimus be dragged to the monstrosity with their best warriors, he also wanted to fight to his very end, but the sparkling made his computer shout out loud "Keep them safe" when he noticed the last bits of the Research facility being dragged out of the atmosphere, the one that keeping the space bridge online.

Where you died like a hero of his people.

Still, Dinobot can't remember much after that, his own processor showing new directrices, he tried to fight back when those same orders made him drop Talon on the floor without any care, the sparkling crying harder and raising little servos to him, asking to be picked up again.

Dinobot wanted to take Talon, take him somewhere safe and then come back to kill this thing.

Still, Talon's cries couldn't stop him, the shouts of Cybertronians coming from the other side of the bridge didn't stop him, he keep on going forward even when his own pedes tried to remain in place.

His own system powered off, from then on everything was a mess of sound, cries and shouts, roars, the tell telling drip of liquid, the warm feeling on his claws and denta.

When he came back to his own being he was missing an arm, his energon levels were a mere jock and when he tried to touch the little body of your sparkling he came empty handed.

Sometimes he wants to say sorry to the spies, those organics called Joe or whatever for almost destroying their base, but what was he going to do? How could he react in any other way that wasn't worry, sadness and anger? Talon wasn't anywhere, he wasn't sure where the frag he was or why he was missing an arm! Humans started to circle around him, telling him to calm down but he couldn't, Dinobot started to hiss and snarl, transform back but unable to do so, taking on a perverse and horrid form he never had before, it burned him, it was hideous enough to make his beastformer companions, who were also receiving medical aid, look away and some cried when Dinobot himself started to shout out loud for what was done to him.

Dinobot just couldn't stop, cybertronians had to put him down and that wasn't enough, he wanted to cry but his pride didn't let him do it, only snarling and giving warnings, demanding to whoever was near to give him back his cub on one piece or he was going to kill whoever was on his way.

It was the very first time Dinobot referred to Talon as his cub and he regretted it, he should've done so long ago, when he first looked how you came back to him with a sparkling on your little arms, alone and without a mate, he should've took the place next to him, raise him as his own.

But now he lost you forever, and also his hatchling.

The humans and autobot medics had to pump energon directly to his lines when he refused to consume anything, the sadness was endless and he found himself chirping, calling out to his hatchling in a desperate last intent, stopping when any living form got near him again and instead snarling, the CR chamber healed him enough, but there was so much it could do for him.

That's it, before a human with red hair appeared with Talon on her arms.

Dinobot roared like he was never weak, trying to get to his sparkling, see if it was really him, and when the little human gave him the sleeping sparkling he couldn't be more pleased, really crying in relief when he keep your son, his son near his spark chamber.

Happiness isn't simple, when he could return to what was once Eukaris he had to take a moment, maybe two, because it was the same and different at the same time, just like him, he was himself and also an abomination of Unicron, and he had to keep on with that.

Happiness can be stored in some way, he learned, Talon was growing satisfactorily, still looking more human than cybertronian, he was struggling but going at his own pace.

Then, one day, happiness changed to hope when Optimus Prime returned, with him many others, Optimus Primal found his human conjunx alive, coming from the black hole that Unicron left behind, bots in general started to come from it, even humans and some planets, just like every titan colony was restored back.

Dinobot wasn't a helpless bot, if death is in front of him he'll fight it, and if it's way bigger than him then he can only let it happen, so expect his surprise when you also appeared back on his life once again, not only giving him another change to reach you, but also to stay with you for as long as possible, bringing new life with you-

"Uhhh, is he okay?" Talon asks out loud, a digit pointing to Dinobot who was looking to the horizon, seated over the nest he did a week ago.

You giggled, "Your dad is going Hamlet again"

"Scrap, something is going to happen, isn't it?" Your son reaches out for you, his head touching your side in search of comfort, avoiding your hands that are still wrapped on medicine and healing.

"I mean, maybe? Happens more times than not"

-You gave him the biggest honor, accepting him and carrying on his existence with the great gift of life.

"Everything good in here?" Dinobot has to make a double take when he hears your voice, it feels almost like a dream, and by Primus, he would go in a killing spree if this is really only a dream, he hisses but let's you touch him, being mindful of the sharp dentae of his beast form when you kiss a side of his mouth.

"It's fine" he looks around, being in high alert, he hasn't recharged in two days.

"I can stay here if you want to sleep" the proposal is tempting, but his duties come first.

"I must stay, keep the hatchlings safe and warm" at his words you look at the nest, two little sparklings taking form, only a few days old, you smile and kiss him again, getting this time something similar to a pur, Talon come next, taking place next to you both and looking at his little siblings.

"They aren't going to eat one another, right?"

"That's something only your dad and his siblings do"

"Ew"

[hannahmanderr]

No one ever said being caught in the crossfire of cosmic power was easy.

Danny's about to find that out first hand.

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Whatever Frostbite had wrapped him in felt amazing. Like slipping into one of those fancy ice baths he’d been craving ever since the first episode earlier that morning. Or like that one time when he’d been playing hide and seek with the yeti cubs and had the brilliant idea of burying himself in a snow mound (somehow he’d still been the first to be found).

The heat in his core began to cool, and he found himself relaxing more and more. For the first time in what felt like hours, his mind felt clearer, even with the unfamiliar memories still swimming around. 

He wasn’t completely better, not by a long shot. The hot grip still squeezed at his core, but the pain had thankfully dulled from sharp, stabbing knife wound to annoying heartburn. That, he could manage. 

See? You will be fine, little Prince.

Prince?

Prince.

Oh, Ancients. 

The title suits you.

No way. Not in a million years. Not in this realm or any.

Well, you can certainly use King, if you prefer. Both are fitting.

No!

His eyes flew open.

“I’m not a king!” He surprised himself by the sudden ferocity in his voice.

Judging from the many pairs of eyes staring at him, they were just as surprised.

Silence fell over the chamber, save for his labored panting. His cheeks flushed cold; he could feel all those eyes on him. Especially…

He glanced up to the center of the table. Master Kala’s stormy gray eyes scrutinized him. Under his gaze, his memories mingling with Danny’s own, Danny felt tinier than ever. Like his very existence offended the Ancient.

Nonsense. You have authority over him anyway.

The gasp escaped his mouth before he could stop it. He wrenched his hands out of Kalliope’s and gripped his head. Please, he begged silently, just leave me alone.

“Danny?” A soft hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sam and Tucker. Their faces were blurry, no thanks to the tears pooled in his eyes, but he didn’t need to see to be able to taste their love and concern. Without entirely realizing it, he leaned further into Sam’s touch. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Slowly, he lowered his hands and grabbed the edges of the cloak, burrowing himself into its cool folds.

Wait.

He frowned and ran a thumb along the outer edge. “Where did this come from?”

“From I, Great One,” Frostbite said. “I’d meant to give it to you as a gift for the Solstice. I think it’ll serve you well now, though.”

Tucker whistled. “It’s wicked cool.” He picked up an edge, but quickly dropped it with a shudder. “Emphasis on ‘cool’.”

That earned a grin from Frostbite. “Precisely! The inner layer has been woven with yeti fur and imbued by a powerful spell of mine to absorb your cold energy and reflect it back into you. The outer layer is reinforced with a protection spell. It won’t prevent all harm, but it may offer you a little extra safety.”

Danny twisted to get a better look. The outside was a deep black, dotted with specks of white that he couldn’t decide were little stars or little flakes of snow. The edges were lined in a silky, pure white, and the hood had a thin lining of yeti fur. He opened up one side and nearly gasped when he saw the inner layer. The fabric was covered in a beautiful pattern of icy fractals, sparkling in the dim light of his own glow and the torch flames. The pattern itself glowed a soft blue - not enough to turn the entire inside blue, but enough to give the illusion of the layer being made of solid ice. 

“It’s really nice,” he whispered. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt silly; this was far beyond ‘really nice’. The care that had been put into the cloak was clear, and it warmed his heart to think that Frostbite had gone to such an effort just for him. He looked up to meet the yeti’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Frostbite beamed. “Think nothing of it! It should be a much more practical solution to keeping your core temperature down than me having to hold you. And now, you can consider it a coronation gift,” he added with a wink.

The mention of a coronation sent Danny’s stomach into knots all over again. 

Indeed, it is lovely. Very befitting of a king.

“I’m not a king,” he said again. Whether it was in response to Frostbite or the voice in his head, he didn’t know. “I-I don’t know why anyone would think I’m supposed to be some king.”

“It’s not a random choice,” Pandora said. “It is Kilaris’ choice. It finds you to be a worthy champion, and thus it is trying to unite with you. It explains why your core is under the duress it is.”

“I still wonder if his suffering isn’t due to his… uniqueness,” Kala mused. “He is half-human, after all.”

Danny blushed again, and Sam’s eyes snapped back towards the Ancient. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she retorted. It was almost enough to make Danny smile. Leave it to Sam Manson to stand up for him like that.

“I mean, he’s not entirely wrong.” Zunje looked up from her tablet long enough to meet Danny’s eyes. “Your core makeup is gonna be different just by your nature. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating stuff! But… yeah, there’s not exactly a lot of history on how being half-human can affect a core. You’re one-of-a-kind!”

“But he’s not the only half-ghost,” Tucker said. “Vlad’s one too. He was having trouble with whatever those quakes were too. Just, not as bad as Danny.”

Kala hummed. “My point stands, then. All this could simply be a matter of the child’s youth and unique core.”

“I disagree.” Frostbite stood to his full height. “I sensed a taint to the Great One’s core. Almost as though something had attached itself to it. That would not be a consequence of his core makeup, however unique it is.”

Danny bit his lip as his heart picked up speed. The idea of something attaching itself to his core…

But how else could he explain the hot hold around it?

He taints you. He still holds what he has no right to.

Like that explained anything. If he was going to be stuck with this voice in his head, couldn’t it at least be useful?

It explains everything, little Prince.

A thought began to form in the back of his mind. He couldn’t put words to it, not yet, but it was enough to worsen the nagging feeling he already had in his gut.

“Only a force as strong as Kilaris could directly affect someone’s core without physical contact,” Pandora was saying. “If it is unable to truly connect with his core, it could turn volatile. It would explain the increase in his core temperature.”

“Then why does it not simply make the connection?” Storm clouds began to gather around Kala again. “This is the Heart! This is not child’s play! It is more than capable of forming the bond itself!”

“Unless if something still holds it,” Pele muttered. Neither Kala nor Pandora appeared to have heard her.

Danny did.

The nagging feeling grew stronger.

Think. You know the answer.

He wasn’t so sure about that.

Zunje also seemed to have heard Pele. She frowned and opened her mouth. “Wait, that’s -”

“Do not act like it is a matter of flipping a switch!” Pandora said, her voice rising in volume. The flames of her plume began to rise. “This is a bond unmatched by any other! It does not form overnight!”

“I never made such a claim!”

Danny looked back and forth between the two arguing Ancients. His heart pounded as he racked his memory, trying to remember what he’d heard.

Unless if something still holds it, Pele had said.

He was so close. He knew it.

Think back, little Prince. Think back.

Danny wasn’t too keen on trusting mysterious voices in his head. One experience with Freakshow’s crystal ball had been more than enough to turn him fearful of the idea in general. 

Still though, something about this voice… It didn’t have the same feeling of pressing up against his head like a hot dagger, like Freakshow’s mind control had. It didn’t seem to want to control him, period. The thoughts flowed as naturally as his own, almost as if they were his own.

And he could trust himself, right?

Trust yourself.

So he did. He thought back, scrolling through memories as fast as he could, even the ones that weren’t truly his.

( “- was that - that earthquake, or whatever you call it!” The human girl sprang to her feet and - )

( - couldn’t be right. The shade never changed. It never changed. It was impossible! It was - )

( - he brought a shaky hand up to touch the Crown, now completely absent of its fire - )

( - why did it seem so right? Like… like finding a part of himself he’d never known he was missing - )

( - was almost frightening how welcoming the power felt, and how much he found himself yearning to welcome it back. If only - )

( - The Heart was in desperate need - )

( “- something’s not right… It shouldn’t have attacked -”)

( “- leave him with the Crown. It will remain locked in the Sarcophagus -”)

( “- the presence of the Heart in its chosen. Kilaris does not… leave the King all at once -”)

Danny’s eyes snapped open.

“It’s stuck.”

Somehow, those two words were loud enough to silence the arguing Ancients. They turned and looked at him with wide eyes. It took every last bit of will for him to avoid shying away under their gaze.

“What’s stuck?” Of all the people to speak, he hadn’t expected it to be Kalliope. Still though, he was grateful it had been her and not someone as intimidating as Kala.

He swallowed. “The… the Heart. It’s stuck. It can’t… break free.”

The way Zunje stared at him with a hungry look in her eye made him want to wince. “How do you know that?” she asked eagerly. Her excitement was palpable across the room.

Kala, on the other hand, was nowhere near as eager. “Yes,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. Danny got the impression he was being examined inside and out under his gaze. “How would you know that?”

Oh. That was a good question, wasn’t it?

Why wouldn’t you know that? 

“It’s…” His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Ancients, he hated attention. And now with it all on him and his seemingly impossible knowledge…

Relax, little Prince. Simply tell them the truth.

Right. That easy.

Right?

He fidgeted with the edge of the cloak. “You… you guys did something to it, right? To keep Pariah from having total control over it?”

He’d expected one of the Ancients to jump in and take over after that, but they simply continued to stare at him, bewildered and curious.

Go on…

“You… you put the Heart into something.” As he spoke, the thoughts and memories became stronger, more confident. “Something you could take away from him, if you needed to. Like… a failsafe or something. 

“And - and now, it’s… it hasn’t been able to get out of that. Whatever happened to keep it in… it’s working too well, isn’t it? And so it’s… stuck. So even if it wanted to bond with me or - or something, and I’m definitely not saying it does, it can’t. Because it’s trapped.”

The room was silent. Only the faint crackling of the torch flames could be heard. Danny’s heart pounded in his ears.

His heart.

Your Heart.

He wanted to throw up all over again.

“He’s right,” Pandora said, so quietly, almost like she was scared to break the silence. “We bound the Heart to a physical vessel. To two physical vessels.”

“We swore never to speak of this!” Kala hissed. Thunder rumbled in his cloudy cloak. “There is a reason we swore ourselves to secrecy!”

“Wait, so you guys took your literal lifeblood or whatever, locked it away, and then decided to keep it a secret?” Tucker asked. Frustration tinged his voice.

“And here I hoped that ghost government would be a little less corrupt than human government,” Sam muttered.

“We had no choice!” Kala slammed one of his hands into the table. “Do you realize the chaos we would have put the Realms in? And no -” he said sharply, interrupting Babel as they opened their mouth, “ - not a productive chaos. Do you know how many beings would go to any length to obtain the power of Kilaris?”

“Then why even do it in the first place?”

“Because of Pariah Dark,” Danny answered Sam. “They - you guys were really worried about him. You wanted to be able to take the power away if he went too crazy with it.”

“We had no choice.” Frostbite’s words echoed Kala’s, but his held gravity. “The Timekeeper warned us.”

“Never mention that traitor again!” Kala roared. “He brings nothing but disorder and lawlessness!”

“The Timek- you mean Clockwork?” Danny asked incredulously.

Kala’s fury was on him in an instant. “Do not speak his name!”

“Enough of this!” Pandora stood, the flames in her plume reaching higher and higher. “He is a child and he is your king! You will treat him with the respect he deserves!”

Pele leaned forward and pulled out her iPhone again. “This ought to be entertaining.”

“That child is no king of mine until the Heart speaks it so!” Kala spat back. “I do not know how he has forbidden knowledge, but it means nothing! He is unfit, inexperienced, and he has offered no proof that the Heart has even chosen him!”

I don’t even want to be king! Danny wanted to shout, but something held him back. 

The one who rejects power is often the one best fit to wield it.

“He has aided the Realms time and again!” Frostbite said. His arm of ice glinted dangerously in the light. “He has laid down his life for them and everyone in them! Is there not anyone more worthy?”

“And who are you to speak for Kilaris? You would let your favoritism for the boy blind you to justice?”

He is right.

Danny blinked. What?

He does not speak on behalf of the Heart. That privilege is only bestowed to the one who hears. The one who is one with the Infinite Realms. 

He almost wrote the answer off as yet another nonsensical thought. Almost.

How did you hear those memories, little Prince?

His breath caught in his throat. 

“It told me!” he shouted.

He nearly expected the chamber to fall silent again, like it had minutes ago. Unfortunately for him, the Ancients’ bickering had grown too loud. Angry auras flared, filling the room with tumult. Sam and Tucker gripped him tightly. Their fear and determination tickled Danny’s nose. Kalliope simply watched the argument unfold, horrified.

He didn’t know what to do. These were the Ancients. The only ghosts powerful enough to put Pariah away. To lock the lifeblood itself away. To them, he was just a kid. Just some dumb human kid who’d somehow managed to stumble his way into their world. Some child who’d overreacted to a little change in energy. 

Kala’s right, he thought, dismayed. I shouldn’t even be here.

Why would you believe in such a lie?

Did he have much other choice? He himself still barely believed it was truly the Heart speaking to him. And if he didn’t want to be king, why even bother trying to convince them?

This is more than a crown. This is more than a bid for power.

Do what you have to do.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

Even with the Realms at stake?

He stopped. That… that had been the reason they’d come in the first place, hadn’t it? To figure out what was going on with the shudders? To try and help fix them?

Frustration bubbled in his chest. The voice was right. The Realms were in danger, and its most powerful beings were squabbling like kindergartners. Over one person, at that. Why waste time focusing on this when there were bigger problems?

Couldn’t they see the bigger picture?

They cannot. But you can tell them.

Easier said than done. Clearly, none of them really seemed to be in a listening mood.

Then make them listen.

Do what you have to do.

Make them listen.

He knew what to do. 

With a newfound strength, he pushed himself off the ground and lifted into the air. He ignored his friends’ questioning looks and focused inward.

He’d done it just a couple hours earlier after all.

He inhaled. The scent of anger was sharp on the air, so much so that he could taste its spice. Coming from ghosts as powerful as the Ancients, the spice nearly made his eyes water, but he steeled himself against it. 

He inhaled again. Breathed in their anger. Breathed in their heat. Let it fill his lungs. Let it fill his core.

But not his heart.

It was easier to find the root of his cool energy wearing Frostbite’s cloak. Whatever magic he’d cast on it worked wonders for amplifying the elemental side to his core. He latched onto it and drew on it. Let it overtake him. His lungs, his body, his heart. Drew on it more and more until it overtook the spice of anger.

Focused his heart. Focused his core.

And he exhaled.

Energy flooded out. Just like he’d done with Sam earlier, he allowed it to release into the air. He inhaled and exhaled again. With each inhale, he took in the hot anger. With each exhale, he redirected it and let it out, cooler and calmer than before. 

Yes. Just like that.

It honestly surprised him how good it felt. Redirecting emotional energy always felt so manipulative, but this…

Not manipulation, little Prince. Restoration.

Restoration. Yeah, that sounded nice.

He didn’t know how long he floated there, allowing himself to filter the anger out of the air. He didn’t mind. It just felt so right.

See? You are meant for this.

He still wasn’t sure about that. But if he could do something productive…

“Danny?”

Tucker’s voice cut through his daze. His eyes fluttered open.

Everyone stared at him again. Of course.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wringing his hands. He knew that Sam and Tucker both knew about his emotion eating, and they always insisted it was natural for him, but he still hated acknowledging it around them. And then to try and pull off such a risk in front of the Ancients…

To his shock, though, Tucker laughed. “Don’t be, man, look at you!”

“What?” He looked down at himself and found himself taken aback by how brightly he glowed. It radiated off his body; the fractal pattern in his cloak caught the light and threw it back out, casting shards of gentle blue glow around the room like a crystal in the sunlight. The cloak itself had billowed around him, allowing the light to be thrown even further.

He felt like his own little star.

Before he could react further though, the hot grip around his core returned full force and twisted, sending a wave of heat and dizziness over him. The glow died away and he swooned, his vision going dark for a dangerous second.

Was it just his imagination, or did he hear the echoes of a furious roar?

“Whoa, whoa!” Sam reached up and directed his fall into her arms. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” he mumbled. Why did he feel so drained all of a sudden? “Just a lil’ tired.”

“That was so cool!” Tucker said. “Whatever that was anyway. How’d you do it?”

Danny shrugged limply. “I dunno, I just… did it.”

And you did excellent, little Prince.

As he felt Sam push aside the cloak to dig in one of his belt holders - hopefully for one of his emergency supplement pills - he became acutely aware of the Ancients’ eyes on him again. 

“What is it with you guys and staring?” he grumbled. Screw the consequences for talking back, he was tired.

“Incredible,” Zunje breathed. “Stars above, that was a-maz-ing! In all my years I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of mastery over emotion energy! And to that kind of degree? Against a bunch of powerful cores? Eeeee, I knew I was right about you!”

“It’s nothing special.” Danny accepted the pill Sam held out to him and popped it in his mouth. “Jus’ a tri’,” he said around it.

“Nah, nah, I know tricks, kid.” Babel jumped off Zunje’s shoulder. “That was more than some trick. There was some juice behind that!” They eyed Danny critically. “You sure you don’t have socks with green polka dots?”

“Enough with the socks,” Kala growled. His attention turned to Danny, and his heart skipped a beat. “This still proves nothing! My judgment still stands! Until the Heart itself speaks -”

Whatever else Kala said was drowned out by the rush of static in Danny’s ears. “Are you for real right now?” he snapped. Yeah, he really didn’t care about the consequences now.

If looks could kill, Kala’s would have him fully dead. “Listen here, Phantom, I -”

“No, I’m done listening!” Oh yeah, he was so dead for interrupting again, but he was not about to let things devolve into yet another argument. He set his jaw and locked his gaze onto Kala’s. “This time, I need you to listen to me. The Realms are in danger, and you guys are just standing here arguing! Don’t you have a job to do? Like seriously, who cares if I’m supposed to be king or not?” I do, he added silently, but he pressed on. “Can’t it wait until after we fix the Heart or whatever?”

Hmm. Elocution could use some improvement, but otherwise well said.

Elo-what now?

“But don’t we need to figure out who Kilaris has chosen to tame it?” Pandora asked, and with a jolt of realization, Danny realized the question had been directed towards him.

Just say your piece and be done, Fenton. “But that’s what I was trying to tell you. You guys can sit here all day arguing over who’s supposed to be the king, but it’s not gonna change the fact that the Heart is stuck. It has to be freed before it can actually choose anyone!”

Kala looked about ready to erupt, but thankfully Zunje jumped in first. “He may be on to something!” she said, snatching her tablet back from Babel, who’d opened up a Talking Tom app. “It’s the piece we all forgot about! The Heart’s been separated this whole time! Which might be why…” She tapped a couple of buttons before leaning back in her seat and blowing a strand of silvery hair out of her face. “Yeesh, no wonder things are so whacked out!”

“You put the Heart into something you could take away from Pariah, if worst came to worst,” Danny said, cutting back in, mostly in an attempt to stave off Kala’s explosion. “I don’t know how, but you did. And it never got let out.”

“How do you know that?” Pandora asked. Rather than accusation, her tone was laced with curiosity. Danny suddenly got the impression of Mr. Lancer sitting there, trying to probe an answer out of him during literary analysis.

He averted his gaze. “I… I mean I can’t - I don’t know for sure, but I think… I think the Heart might have… shown me?”

“Shown you?”

“Yeah.” Feeling self-conscious, he pulled the cloak tighter around himself. “It… I saw all these things. Like memories, but they weren’t mine. I really don’t know how, but… I think it’s trying to show me for a reason.”

“What’s gotcha thinkin’ it’s Kilaris?” Babel asked. Despite having had the tablet taken away, their voice sounded suspiciously like Talking Tom’s.

Danny hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s just… a gut feeling, I guess. Like it’s trying to tell me without actually telling me.”

Why not tell them the truth?

Frankly, he didn’t know if he could handle the truth himself right now. To say it out loud, to make it all the more real…

Why shy away from who you are meant to be?

Meant to be.

Yeah, that would be exactly why.

And what if I don’t want to be that? Challenging the voice felt vaguely pointless, especially if he was right about it being the Heart, but banter had always helped him feel a little less out of control.

Destiny often finds you, whether you want it to or not.

Memories of a button, green lightning coursing through his veins, and the impossibly infinite sensation of being ripped apart and put back together again and a dead dimension using his body to blossom to life ripped through his head.

If this voice was going to constantly assault him with random memories, couldn’t it at least give a little warning?

Of course, little Prince. You need only ask.

Danny blinked. Needless to say, the unexpected concession took him aback.

Tucker, ever so astute, narrowed his eyes at Danny. Of course he did. They’d known each other since pre-K, why wouldn’t he key into Danny’s behavior so easily? “Did it just show you something else?”

“Um…” He loved his friend to death and beyond, but he was so gonna make him pay for calling him out like that. “It’s… I’m not…”

Remember your priority.

Right. 

He shook his head and set his jaw, drawing his shoulders back and standing tall. It was a stance he’d perfected playing hero for Amity Park, and despite his doubts, slipping into it felt like stepping into his favorite starry pajamas. 

The other thing he’d perfected as Phantom was his ability to focus. Make his goal his number one priority. Take in every detail of the battlefield, of his opponent, of the resources available, of the civilians in the crossfire. Leave behind all worries of anything that had happened before or would happen after. Center himself on the duty at hand.

He did that now.

“Look, I know it’s probably important to figure out,” he said. Though his voice carried confidence and determination, his heart still trembled. “I mean believe me, I’d love to know what’s going on with me. Or what all this king stuff is about, because frankly, I’m with Kala.” He jabbed a thumb in the Ancient’s direction. Hopefully the proverbial olive branch was obvious enough. “I’m not exactly sold on me being the best choice for king. But that’s not the most important thing right now.

“Here’s what it comes down to: the Realms are in danger. We all know that, right? And you guys have already figured out that it’s got to do with the Heart, right? So we gotta focus on that. There won’t be a need for a king if the Heart ends up tearing the worlds apart just to put itself back together.”

He took a deep, shaky breath. “And once it’s all said and done, then we can come back here and figure out this whole king mess, alright? I… I promise I won’t fight against it or whatever. I’m not just gonna leave the Realms hanging, you know? But…” He trailed off. How did he even want to end that sentence?

Did he even want the Infinite Realms dependent on him for survival yet again?

“I just think our energy is better spent trying to stop these energy waves or whatever. Since they’re… not normal. I think.” Top ten lamest finishes to a speech in front of a room full of ancient, god-like ghosts? Most definitely.

But he’d said his piece. Laid out his cards.

Well done.

It might have been his imagination, but he swore Kala’s eyes grew a little less stormy, and the clouds shrouding him receded just a bit. “It is no simple claim, to say that Kilaris speaks to you. The consequences of lying would exceed any you could fathom. And if you are wrong about these… visions…”

Danny shrugged. “What do you have to lose? It’s either trust me for like, five minutes or run the risk of the world falling apart.”

All six Ancients regarded him for a long moment, and it took every bit of strength he could muster not to cower under the sheer intensity of their focused gaze. Even though he knew at least Frostbite and Pandora would side with him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being scrutinized, picked apart, analyzed, and put back together again.

Maybe that was one of their weird, Ancient-y powers. Intimidation tactics.

“I agree.” Surprisingly, the first one to speak was not Frostbite or Pandora. It wasn’t Zunje either, one of the other ones he figured he’d have an easier time convincing.

Pele had spoken.

She’d set her iPhone face-down on the table and was now watching him carefully, hands clasped in front of her. “A wise warrior knows when to fall back to duty when presented with an opportunity for power.” To add to Danny’s surprise, for the first time since he’d met her (which, to be fair, had only been a bit ago), she cracked the smallest of smiles. “You have chosen your battle well, Phantom.”

He couldn’t help the blush that creeped up his face. “Thanks,” he said shyly. Sure, it felt lame, but what else could he say?

“Our authority may be granted by Kilaris, and for that, we owe it our eternal servitude,” Pandora said. “Should it not also be our prerogative to serve the Realms that it so diligently gives life to?”

“I also agree!” Frostbite stood with a wide smile. “The Great One is right. We may not have a chance to select a new king if the Heart is in peril.”

“Well, I did have a croquet game with the queen of Sheba planned,” Babel said, looking at a planner consisting of hundreds and hundreds of individual sticky notes, “but, eh, what the heck! Queenie’s been dead long enough, she can wait a little longer. I’m in!”

Zunje looked as though she might keel over as she stared in horror at Babel’s version of organization, but she managed to shake herself out of her stupor. “First thing we’re doing after all this is teaching you the wonders of proper planning,” she muttered. “Anyway! You already know I’m down. I’d be totally fine either way, really! I’m practically swimming in new data and it’s fantastic! Just thinking about how long it’ll take to sort through and organize, it’s gonna be so much fun! And the graphs? Oh, don’t even get me started on those, I -”

“Enough, Zunje,” Kala rumbled, but much of the threat behind his voice had dissolved. He had not taken his eyes off of Danny the entire time, and it was becoming harder and harder to remain resolute under his stare. Had agreeing with him been the right play?

Ancients, he hated waiting. 

Was it weird to say ‘Ancients’ like that when they were right in front of you?

“While I hesitate to trust the source of these visions,” Kala began, “I am willing to set aside the matter of the Heart’s champion. Temporarily.” His eyes narrowed at Danny, and Danny found it surprisingly unreadable. “The matter of the safety of the Realms is the higher priority. We will address it first.”

“Oh, good! Because I was thinking…” Zunje trailed off as she searched for something on her tablet.

“Is no one gonna ask us what we think?” Sam muttered.

Danny couldn’t help the grin he cracked. “Like you guys would fight me on this.”

“Hey, just because you might be some big bad ghost king doesn’t mean you get to tell us what to do.” Tucker punctuated his comment with a playful nudge at Danny’s ribs. 

“You have my support too, mikrí.” Kalliope floated forward with a reverent head bow. “I am not much of a fighter, but I will offer my services here wherever I can.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to think of Tucker’s comment, or how Kalliope’s offer felt like a pledge of service to a leader, but for the sake of the moment, he bottled those up for later. Future Danny could deal with those.

“Right, here!” Zunje held up her tablet triumphantly. Danny couldn’t decipher anything from what he saw. “These were the readings I was talking about earlier, yeah? Like it looks like what a typical energy output from the Heart would look like, but it’s just so slightly skewed. And it hit me when Phantom said it, like duh, of course separating the Heart would have some serious impacts on it!”

Yeah, no duh, Danny thought dryly to himself. Getting yourself forcibly ripped apart isn’t fun. Been there, done that.

Which is why you can understand better than they can.

Yeah, yeah. Something something half-ghost half-human. Same story, different day.

Good. Then you’re in agreement.

Well…

“But then why didn’t it give you problems when you first put it into the Crown and Ring?” The words popped out of his mouth before he even fully registered them. Crown and Ring?

( - the weight of a pulsating ring lifting from his finger - )

( - and the angry flames of a crown trying to reject him - )

For what felt like the millionth time that day, all eyes in the room fell on him. He wanted to punch something. Or scream. What would it take to get them to stop staring?

“Wait, so you didn’t just lock it away, you shoved it into a couple of tiny pieces of jewelry?” Tucker said slowly. “Jeez, no wonder it’s mad.”

“How do you -” Kala began to ask Danny, but he stopped himself with his mouth hanging open. After a minute, he shook his head. “Never mind. Yes, we forged the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage for containment of Kilaris. We do not need to rehash the details.”

Pandora gave a little hmph. Danny’s tongue felt itchy; he could tell she wanted to protest that, but she held her tongue. Keeping her eyes on Kala, she instead said, “It was not an easy task. But we managed it. It seemed to operate well with the setup… until…”

“Until we first tried to separate the Crown and the Ring,” Zunje finished quietly. There was a deep sorrow behind her eyes, one that Danny could taste on the air. “It… wasn’t too keen on that. It’s like it knew that’s what we were trying to do.”

( - and power upon power tumbled through the Realms and ripped into the land and ripped into the sky and bled black inky tears and cried with the anguished wail - )

“It didn’t just fight back.” Danny’s voice was little more than a whisper himself as the haunting memory flashed before him. “It was ready to tear things apart. Like, for good.”

Pandora nodded soberly. “It’s the reason we elected to keep the Crown and the Ring close to each other when we secured Pariah away. One in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep with him, one left just outside of it. We wouldn’t run the risk of attempting to separate it from its host or itself. It was better that way.”

“It was our only choice,” Kala said. His shoulders hunched and his brow creased, his eyes staring blankly at the table in front of him. An oddly vulnerable position for someone who presented himself so boldly.

He’s just as worried about all this, Danny realized with a start. He doesn’t want to mess up again.

“Wait, wait.” Sam waved her hands. “Like I get it, it makes sense, but if it was fine for all those years - and I’m assuming it was since we’re all still standing here - then why is it suddenly not fine now? Pariah had both the Crown and the Ring when Danny locked him back up.”

If the dropping in Danny’s stomach before had been like a stone, the way it dropped now was nothing short of a boulder.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. It’s my fault. All this is my fault.

Not so, little Prince. You did not know.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his torso. His mind filled with static. Nausea washed over him.

All that effort to keep everyone safe… everything he’d done to stop the tyrant king… coming face to face with death for the second time in his short life…

It had been for nothing.

In saving the world, he had doomed it.

One of his friends laid their hand on his shoulder, clearly sensing his distress, but he shrugged it off. His core and heart were beginning to race again and -

( - Each labored breath pushed his overworked lungs closer and closer to the brink of giving out - )

- he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. His fears and doubts began telling him everything he’d done wrong. Taunting him. Laughing at his failures. Singing songs of his unworthiness.

And they want someone like you to be a king? they said. They expect you to actually help? All you do is get people in trouble.

He wanted to sob, even as another voice cut through the cacophony in his head.

You mustn’t listen to them, little Prince. You cannot let fear be your enemy.

Was it his enemy? Because right now, it felt a lot more like his master.

His fingers felt numb. Dizziness began to overwhelm him. 

It was his fault. His fault his fault his fault.

As if to nail the head on the coffin, the hot grip around his core squeezed harder and twisted. He cried out in pain as he fell to his knees.

And now you’re going to fail again, his fears whispered to him. Their collective voice was beginning to take a shape. He didn’t know how he knew. You will fail. That is who you are meant to be. A failure.

No. No. He didn’t have to be. He could still fix this. He could… 

He could…

He couldn’t…

Don’t listen to him. He wants you to doubt yourself. You will be playing right into his hands.

He?

The fears cackled. Their voice became clearer and clearer and somewhere in the back of Danny’s mind, he felt like he could recognize it. There’s no sense in fighting back. It will only result in more hurt. Give in to me. Give in to me and perhaps I will spare you long enough to see the world of your creation.

This time, he really did sob.

He knew that voice. 

“Please…” he whispered, though he couldn’t tell if the word actually left his mouth or not. The hot grip still held relentlessly tight on his core. Instinctively, his core began to pour out more cold energy, and somewhere, Danny could feel it being reflected back into him, thanks to Frostbite’s cloak.

But it wasn’t enough. 

You will not win this, ‘little Prince.’ Where the voice that had originally began calling him that said it with all the tenderness and care, this new voice held nothing but mockery and a desire to inflict pain. 

He remembered what he’d been trying to say during the onslaught of memories. How could he have forgotten? How could he have let himself get so selfishly distracted?

He needed to warn them.

It’s too late, the voice of the fallen king said in his head, cackling again. You will never be able to keep me from what is rightfully mine. You are nothing.

No. No, he…

Do not listen! The right is yours and yours alone. You mustn’t let him take it.

Like he could keep that from happening. He’d come within inches of death the last time - a full, proper death, not the impossible space he’d fallen into when he’d walked into that portal. He’d barely been able to survive the last battle, and that had been with a mech suit that had granted him a slew of extra power.

The king was right. He was nothing.

Yes, that’s it, the voice purred. Let me win. Choose the easier path, little Prince. Maybe I will find it within me to expedite your death.

Hands found his shoulders again, and this time, he didn’t have the energy to throw them off. He was too lost within himself, too far gone. 

You are never too far gone. You have more within you than he ever will. Where he holds weakness, your heart holds strength. It has always been within you. You must realize this.

You must do your duty to the Realms.

You must do what you need to do.

He couldn’t.

Not this time.

What a good little Prince, the king laughed. So obedient to his King. And as a reward for your obedience, I will make your pathetic human village my new throne. I will raze it to the ground and rebuild it into glory. It will have the honor of being the first conquest of my new reign.

The words sent a jolt through him, one so strong it nearly knocked him over. Amity Park, being threatened again…

He could deal with being berated in his own head. He could deal with whatever threats got thrown his way. He could deal with whatever the king could attack him with.

He would never stand for a threat against his people.

In this world or any.

That’s it. You draw your strength from a source more potent than he could ever dream. You draw your power from within, not about. Where do you draw that from, little Prince?

He gritted his teeth. Forced himself up onto one knee. Where did he draw his strength from?

The hands on his shoulders, one from each of his friends, answered his question.

He focused on the image of their faces. Of Jazz’s face. Of his parents’. Of Frostbite. Princess Dora. Mr. Lancer. Valerie. Pandora. Wulf. Cujo. Dani. 

Where did he draw his strength from?

More images came to mind. Dash playing fetch with his little dog in the park. Ember headlining a concert. Mr. and Mrs. Foley laughing together at the dinner table. Desiree smiling as she granted a child’s wish upon a star. Wes standing triumphantly in front of his conspiracy board.

Where did he draw his strength from?

And now places. His home, with the portal and his room and the kind of perfect chaos only a Fenton could create. The Far Frozen, with endless snow and ice and an entire tribe of yetis who welcomed him with open arms and a safe bed for him to rest whenever he needed it. Casper High, with all the little nooks and crannies he’d discovered for hiding places and the students and teachers who’d learned to deal with ghosts right alongside him and tiny wonders like the little blob ghost clan living in the condemned girls’ bathroom on the second floor. The sky, with its endless expanse and absolute freedom and the stars he adored so much. The Ghost Zone, with clouds of ectoplasm to swim in and new adventures behind every door and the perpetual thrill of something supernatural that drew him back every time.

Yes. He knew from where he drew his strength.

Some deep, secret part of him still doubted himself. Still wondered if there was truth to the fears being fed to him. He knew he was putting on a little bravado.

But if it meant fighting to keep the balance… To keep everything and everyone he loved safe…

The hot grip faltered.

Insolent child! the king snarled. Crown or no, you are powerless against me. Whatever you love, I will tear it down. I will make you watch as I kill each of your precious humans, one by one. I will burn your cities and I will force you to light the flame. Would you truly subject them to such torture for the sake of your own pathetic revolt?

The king’s words almost sent Danny grinding to a halt again, but he felt something prodding in his core. Something new, yet familiar. Something that he swore carried what could only be described as the promise of spring. It wanted let out.

He didn’t know how to let it out.

But he focused on it. Thought about Amity Park in the springtime and seeing its citizens emerging after a long, gray Midwestern winter. Thought about visiting the Realms and hearing about all sorts of traditional festivals of fertility and renewal and rebirth celebrated by all the different people of all the different realms.

Yes. That’s it. Focus, little Prince. You will not let him win.

For once, he felt in tune with the voice in his head. 

And it felt right.

He stood. Focused. Just like they had when he’d calmed the Ancients, his emotions calibrated themselves to his breathing. Only this time, he needed it internally.

Inhale the good. The light. Exhale the darkness. 

You think you can free yourself of me so easily, the king said with a sneer. What good will such naivete serve when I bring you to your knees and assert what is mine?

Focus. The good. Mr. Lancer’s proud smile when he turned in a book report on time. Frostbite teaching him how to sculpt little flowers out of frost. Unabashedly cuddling up next to his mom on movie night.

He could feel the king’s rage. It burned against his core. He wanted to cry out against it.

He didn’t. 

Clockwork’s patient eyes as he explained intricacies of time. Him and Cujo playing fetch in the sky. Sam and Tucker, ever loyal and always by his side.

The burn began to fade.

The fuzzy feeling of saving a civilian. The purpose he felt helping a spirit move on. The duty he had to both his worlds.

The duty he had to himself.

And what will you do about that duty?

“I messed up,” he whispered. This time, when he spoke, he knew he did so aloud. He couldn’t find it in him to talk much louder than that. The echoes of the king’s voice were still too loud.

“No you didn’t,” Sam said immediately. “Why would you say that?”

“No, this time I really did.” He swallowed. “I took the Crown away from him before…” He trailed off. No. He couldn’t revisit those memories.

Not yet.

The room was quiet for a moment before Pandora spoke up. “So… he does not have the Crown? It’s not with him?”

Danny hesitated. “No. But he’s looking for it. Right now.”

“What?”

A doorbell rang.

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Warm and safe.

( @quibble-auk I....I have no excuse. I love fluff and I love baby creatures. )

-

Lyre couldn’t go to sleep.

He wanted to. He really did, but no one else wanted to curl up with him.

His brothers tackled and rough housed nipping and fighting as much as their underdeveloped claws could allow. They were rough and Lyre had no inclination to join them as they rolled across the floor yowling and hissing. Lyre had tried to nap anyway on the too cool floor, but he ended up being nipped and trampled by the energetic cubs. It left him grumpy and sleepy.

He craved a warm place to curl up, when he nosed around searching for his much larger sister he found her gone. Lyre whimpered softly as he felt himself shiver, Sunrazor was warm. She was big and smelt good too. But she was nowhere to be found in the den.

He sat for a moment avoiding his brother’s sharp bites trying to get him to join in their game. Lyre whimpered and shoved off his older red brother with a sad mewl.  The little blue cub sat for a moment feeling rather cold and tired. A soft scent made him raise his head however, his uncles.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe paid the litter a few minutes of attention on their way out of the den, Sunstreaker grinning at the pocket sized sparklings tried to pick a fight with hisses and nibbles. Sparks warm with endearment, the gladiators allowed the duo of Libra and Virgo to scramble over them. Leaning back to watch his twin get “pinned” by his nephews, Sideswipe looked down at a soft weight on his thigh.

Lyre, still not grasping words, chirped sleepily at his red uncle, pressing against Sideswipe’s leg in an attempt for attention. The red mech obliged, picking up the runt with a soft noise of affection. Cradled against a warm chest Lyre felt himself melt, Sideswipe cooing at the sight of the sleepy sparkling.

Soon after the little blue mech had drifted off, his uncle shifted. Angry chirps tore from the other cubs as they lost their golden playmate, who laughed deeply at their attempts to make him stay. “Sorry boys, we gotta go.”

Sideswipe carefully walked over to the nest of blankets, still holding Lyre like he was made of glass. The tiny sparkling was just so small. Gently Sideswipe laid the little one down amongst the blankets, silently wishing they didn’t have to leave. They had been keeping watch all morning till their match, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both wished it wasn't over. Sunstreaker allowed himself a quick nuzzle to the cubs before they traded watch duty with Sunrazor, who had just returned after a sparring match with her father. The twins gave the guardian a soft touch with their helms and left her to the rambunctious cubs. Sunrazor was attacked immediately, missing the small cub who stared out of the blankets sadly.

His uncles left, and Sunrazor was dragged into a game with her small baby brothers. Not in the mood to sleep.

Lyre whimpered loudly in distress, he didn’t want to sleep by himself.

Neither his mother nor his father were here to notice his mood, Sunrazor being exhausted but still having hyper sparklings to attend to couldn’t lay down with him.

Lyre sighed and looked out of his blankets with soft sad whimpers. He sniffed the air however, and in his young mind an idea formed. 

With a hereditary stubbornness Lyre padded slowly past his sister, who was frantically trying to keep Virgo from eating her plant, and toward the door. Lyre tapped the metal once he arrived with a small clawed hand, it didn’t open. 

 Sleepy and getting frustrated, he growled puffing up what little armor he had. Hoping to intimidate the door into opening. 

It did.

A happy coo slipped from his throat as the metal slid by, and entered the twins once more. They were growling and snarling as they rushed past him. Sunrazor looked up curiously as the Sunstreaker began to rant. Lyre paid them no mind as he tapped out the door, unnoticed in the chaos of his hyperactive brothers and the twin’s entrance. The little blue cub had places to go.

Sleepily Lyre made his way ever so slowly down the hall, sneezing at the weird smells and odd tastes they caused. Softly huffing the little pretender started to push himself up slightly on his hind legs. Slowly toddling while keeping himself supported by the dented scraped wall, he was a sparkling with a purpose. 

Soon though he grew tired from walking on the cold floor, and grew nervous in the large space. It was alien to look up and see the world just continue, without one of his family members to make the open space feel small. Small and safe. Lyre whimpered regretting leaving the den as he sniffed and caught no real scent of his mother or father, a whine began in his throat.

For a moment he stood thinking rather hard on turning back, till he caught a whiff that made his sleepy brain jolt.

He smiled a sweet excited smile, and started his trek once more.

Lyre tapped happily, almost tripping his haste to reach the cool smell he associated with big safe warm things.

He made rather good progress, till he heard noises that made his young flesh jump. Lyre chirped surprised as loud voices echoed through the hall, none of which were familiar. Fear rattled him for a moment, freezing him in place.

He let out a whimper, anxiety spiking as the noises only got louder.

Small and very alone, Lyre let out a soft chirp. A noise meant to let his mother know he was scared. But his mother wasn’t here. No lyre was alone in this wide stretch of open cold hall.

Fear made his eyes burn as he stood frozen in place along the wall, tired, chilled, grumpy and now very afraid. 

A large mech turned the corner and stopped. His bright optics widened, and he quickened his pace, jerking a look over his shoulder.

Lyre let out a happy chirp as the huge mech crouched down over him, the tiny cub quickly began to nuzzle the mech's hands as he swiftly saved him from the frigid floor.

“Lyre? What in-” Dropmix let out a frustrated protective growl as the tiny sparkling nuzzled him lovingly, bright eyes warm.

“Why in the pit are you out here..Shivering and with those..” Dropmix jerked another sharp glance over his shoulder, holding Lyre in the palm of one of his hands, cupped against his chest. Dromix began moving quickly, avoiding the gaggle of young gladiators behind him.

Lyre however was blissfully oblivious to his saviours agitation, cuddling up and melting against his warm chest. He let out soft satisfied coos up at the gladiator however, as Dropmix glanced down.

Those bright cold optics softened, a smile playing on the mech’s lips. “So happy to see me, you didn't…”  The idea hit him, and Dropmix groaned internally at the thought of the child escaping just to track him down. Out in the open, vulnerable and shivering.

 A chuff slipped from his throat as he gave into the loud demanding chirps Lyre had begun to release, effectively distracting the gladiator. 

Straining to reach the gladiator’s faceplate, Lyre let out a babyish whine. Dropmix sighed, carefully nuzzling the child as he made steady progress down the hall. Protectiveness bubbled in his chest at the soft satisfied sigh Lyre released, rubbing his small soft face against Dropmix’s.

“Why’d you wander off? Hm?” His deep baritone was soft as he murmured to the small boy curled against him, small enough to fit in his clawed hands. A sleepy hum answered him, and Dropmix almost laughed. Almost.

The tiny boy, who had two brothers, a sister, plenty of places to rest safely, escaped because he wanted to cuddle up to the rough gladiator. Wanted to sleep tucked against Dropmix. His spark warmed at the thought, and a sense of ego along with it. He smirked as he continued down past the halls, sending a quick message to whoever was supposed to be watching Cometeater’s brood.  Dropmix quickly relayed that he had the little mech, and to not worry.

Dropmix tightened his hold on the baby as he went, though he would never admit it, he enjoyed the soft needy chirps asking for his attention that slipped every now and then from Lyre. The tiny thing utterly and completely trusting of the mech, even had the gall to demand affection from him. Dropmix answered with soft nudges, letting out chuffs to soothe the sparkling. Something akin to affection flourishing in his chest.

Lyre of course enjoyed the nuzzles and noises with his entire being, satisfied in the hold. He curled up and closed his eyes, cooing as he felt a rough thumb run along his cheek.

Big, warm and safe.

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Oh no. I wrote smth for the Horns and Razors AU. What ever will I do.

Previous

Next

(I’m so sorry this is also the only place that I’ve actually made it easy to explore Dropmix’s relationship with Theremin because you know this sucker is repressed and would rather die than talk about his feelings in canon. And I also don’t have him interacting with the others in my prewar plot)

So… um… who wants some territorial Dropmix and tired dad Cometeater content? Oh and we get to learn why Theremin doesn’t ask questions in the first thing.

WARNINGS!!!! Mentions of child abuse? Child injury? the government sucks. Slavery. All that jazz.

—

Cometeater checked the room number one last time before knocking on Theremin’s door. His eyes scanned the hallway nervously as he clutched his cub close to his chest. He had never been in this part of the Pits before, for the most part it was off limits for gladiators. But Theremin had given him the proper code to unlock the doors for this arena when he had told Comet where to go if he needed any help. Well, when Sunrazor needed help.

The golden sparkling had developed a new fear of the medical station recently, making it far more difficult for Theremin to heal her. She would cry and thrash, her words dissolving into nothing but unintelligible static. Any of Cometeaters attempts to soothe and calm her down were unsuccessful. After a few more failed visits Theremin had offered to meet in his personal room instead.

The medic was always ready to help Cometeater with Sunrazor, he had even watched her a couple of times when Comet had to go out for a match. The pretender had thought it was a coincidence at first that Theremin was always the medic helping him with the sparkling. He had since learned that the other medical staff refused to take her as a patient, she was a lost cause to them. Some had even claimed that they were forbidden from helping them.

Regardless of the rules, Theremin had agreed to help. Which was a good thing as it would turn out, Sunrazor got hurt more often than he was happy with. Theremin would argue that it was just because she was a clumsy sparkling that was still adjusting to her frame size, but Comet knew there was another reason. The twins refused to watch her. On days when Theremin was busy he was forced to leave her unattended while he was in a match.

No one had answered the door yet, Comet knocked again, a little louder this time.

Such was the incident today. Sunrazor had managed to get out of the room and had started looking for him, she had gotten pretty close too. Unfortunately, she ran into a couple of very young gladiator mechs itching for a fight before she had made her way to Comet. If he hadn’t stepped in when he heard the commotion she probably would have been killed by them.

Cometeater shifted his weight, tail flicking as he checked the room number again. It was the one Theremin had given him. Was the medic elsewhere? Would he have to come back later? It was already pretty late at night, Cometeater’s match had a late one. He had originally been planning on taking Sunrazor to Theremin in the morning when he knew the medic was free, but some of her injuries had yet to stop bleeding.

Most mechs would be asleep by now. If Theremin was too, would he wake up for Sunrazor? He didn’t gain anything from this after all. Would he turn them away so he could continue to rest?

Comet looked down at Sunrazor, who was smiling contently despite her injuries. There was a strange rumbling noise, most likely her attempting to replicate a purr. The yellow sparkling’s eyes were closed tightly, burying her face into his plating with a small sigh. She was seemingly oblivious to the energon that caked her plating and dripped down from her multitude of wounds.

Or Sunrazor was so happy that Comet was there that she decided she didn’t care about the pain.

After what felt like hours the door finally opened to reveal a dimly lit room and a very groggy looking Theremin. The medic stretched slightly, his plating trembling as he blinked blearily at his visitors. It took a few moments before recognition finally seemed to hit him, “Oh, Cometeater, do you need something?”

The gladiator resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Theremin was here. He was willing to help. Sunrazor would be alright. He nodded quickly, “Sunrazor got hurt and I was going to wait until morning but-”

Theremin cut him off with a dismissive wave, shrugging slightly, “You don’t need to be sorry for waking me up, I told you that you could drop by any time. I’ll be fine,” he moved to the side and opened the door further, “Come on in.”

Cometeater did, he gave a final glance into the hallway before stepping into the room and letting Theremin close it behind him. The living space felt simple but far more comfortable than the gladiator quarters. A desk sat to the side, lined with bookshelves, and a small seating area held a couch and a few chairs. Beyond that, an open walkway led directly into the bedroom—no door, just a threshold, leaving the sleeping space in full view from the rest of the room.

“You can go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Theremin began, turning on a couple of lights and looking through a small dresser, collecting tools. “We’ll probably use the bed if that's alright with you, it’ll be the most comfortable. I can get a clean sheet over it for you in just a moment.”

The large berth in question was already occupied by a behemoth.

Comet had almost not seen the titan, their dark body blending in well with the dimly lit room. He unconsciously held Sunrazor a little bit tighter, the sparkling had finally stirred and looked up at him. Comet couldn’t immediately recognize who that was. He hadn’t expected anyone else in here, this was Theremin’s private room. He shouldn't have to share with anyone, let alone share a bed! Not even the twins had to share a berth with each other!

The gladiator didn’t move, watching the mysterious figure with an intense gaze as he tried to puzzle out what they were doing here. Theremin seemed to notice and looked at the berth with a confused glance before it shifted to something more exasperated. The medic huffed and muttered to himself as he walked over to the bed, what he had been collecting forgotten on the nearby desk. He flicked on the lights for the bedroom, the mech sleeping didn’t stir.

Theremin’s eyes narrowed as he crawled onto the bed, “Dropmix, move–”

Wait, Dropmix was here? Immediately Comet felt himself step back, his posture stiffening and he bared his teeth in a half snarl. Dropmix would not be coming anywhere near Sunrazor.

The medic shoved the larger form harshly and with enough force that the mech, Dropmix, was pushed off the side of the berth. They let out a short startled cry as they woke up and not so gracefully fell onto the floor with a loud Thud! Dropmix scrambled to sit up right, arms and legs caught in the blanket.

“I’m up–” the larger gladiator began but paused when he looked over to see Comet staring blankly at him. The gladiator’s body tensed. Dropmix seemed just as surprised to see Comet as he was to see Dropmix here. What was the gladiator doing in the medical staff’s personal rooms? He should have one for himself.

The dark mech bared his own fangs, and growled low and deep, his plating flaring. Theremin looked down at the other and something akin to dread crossed his expression.

Dropmix lunged, claws ready to strike.

Comet’s eyes widened at the uncharacteristic reaction. Dropmix, though ruthless in the arena, had always been a quiet observer. The green gladiator held Sunrazor closer and growled, he wouldn’t be able to get away from the larger mech with such little space around. He braced for the inevitable impact.

It never came. Theremin had barely reacted in time, frantically lunging forward and wrapping an arm around Dropmix’s neck. The medic yanked the gladiator back, throwing the other’s balance off and ripping him backwards. Dropmix’s head collided with the bedframe harshly and Theremin let out a small startled cry wincing slightly at the noise that was made when the gladiator's head hit the metal frame. “Slag! Dropmix are you–”

Dropmix didn’t seem to notice, large hand immediately raising to pry Theremin’s grip off of him. He was still growling loudly, eyes fixed on Cometeater. Just as his claws were about to make contact with Theremin he shuddered, hissing in pain. Theremin didn’t let go of him, keeping him pinned as the medic looked apologetically down at the gladiator.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I should have told you– I let them in. You don’t need to—I’m sorry,” Theremin whispered to the other, watching as Dropmix tensed up a few other times, whining painfully before allowing himself to fall limp in the other’s arms. Cautiously, Theremin released his hold on the other, and started examining the other’s head.

“I told Comet that he could come over any time– I don’t think I told you that. I forgot that you’d–” he didn’t get to finish, sighing instead. “Are you alright now?”

Dropmix looked up at the other, blinking a few times, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Cometeater watched the two intensely, still ready to react if the other gladiator moved again. He kept his grip tight on Sunrazor. She had grown quiet, her previous contentment replaced with unease as she peeked over at Dropmix. Comet could feel her starting to squirm to be released.

Theremin ran a hand down his face, exhaustion evident in his movements. He muttered, shaking his head. "That could've gone better."

Dropmix sat on the floor, rubbing the back of his head where he had struck the bed frame as he sat up. He cast a sideways glance at Cometeater, then at Sunrazor, "Why is he here?" His voice was rough, still tinged with something unsteady.

"Because Sunrazor's hurt, and Cometeater needed my help," Theremin answered simply, getting up and moving to grab his abandoned tools. “Can you clear the bed? I’m gonna use it.”

He didn’t wait for a response, getting back to work immediately. The two gladiators looked at eachother, sizing each other up from across the room.

Comet had seen it enough times to know what just happened. Dropmix had his behavioral compliance programs used on him. The twins had always told Cometeater how lucky he was to not have any, they were painful. They had always seemed that way to him at least, and from what the twins told him about it, he was right. The programs were built to hurt. Most mechs didn’t have access to the programs, gladiators knew their own codes but not how to use them. Medics, however, had access to gladiators BCP, though the code they used was only supposed to work when in the medical station. Cometeater glanced over at where the medic was gathering supplies.

Theremin had Dropmix’s personal codes.

Which meant that either Theremin was in good graces with the arena master, he was actually Dropmix’s handler, he actually owned Dropmix, or the most likely possibility, Dropmix had told it to him. Not even Comet knew his brother's codes, not that he could do anything with it, but it was personal. Extremely personal. Kinda like sharing a personal berth and room levels of personal… There was something going on between the two. Comet was sure of it.

The tension in the room still hung thick, but Theremin carried on like nothing had happened, methodically preparing to treat Sunrazor. Dropmix had gotten up from his place on the floor and had started preparing the bed, stripping it of its old sheets and replacing them with new ones.

Cometeater didn’t move, he watched Dropmix’s every movement. His posture was stiff and still ready so spring into action. It didn’t matter if Theremin could use the codes again, Dropmix was hostile, he could hurt Sunrazor. Said sparkling whined softly, her little frame shifting uncomfortably in his arms. That was enough to bring him back to the present. He looked down at her.

Sunrazor had her eyes set on Dropmix intently, squirming to get loose from Comet’s grip. She was shaking slightly, plating gently vibrating. Cometeater wished he knew what that meant, he thought he had learned to understand Cybertronian body language pretty well. Then Sunrazor had stumbled into his life and things got less clear, she wasn’t a Gladiator, she was a Guardian. Comet had only begun to figure her out.

She seemed angry though, something meant to mimic a growl humming from her tiny engine. Her jaw set and eyes fiery with determination. Cometeater forced himself to take a slow breath, releasing the tension from his shoulders. She could feel his tension and sense his unease and was reacting in the way her programming told her she should. As endearing as it was, she shouldn’t feel like it was her job to protect him. Cometeater was the one that was supposed to be protecting, not Sunrazor. His tail flicked once, then went still.

Across the room, Dropmix had finished changing the sheets and stepped back. His eyes flicked to Cometeater again, but his expression was unreadable now, his posture more controlled. Cometeater still didn’t trust him, but he could recognize that Dropmix was also trying to push down whatever had caused that violent reaction.

It was Theremin who broke the silence first, setting the last of his supplies in order and gesturing toward the berth. "Alright, Comet, bring her over. Let’s see what she got herself into," His voice was calm but firm, the same way it always was when he was working. Like the last few minutes hadn’t happened at all.

Cometeater hesitated for a fraction of a second. His eyes flickered toward Dropmix, who hadn’t moved from where he stood to the side, arms crossed. The larger gladiator’s gaze was still heavy on him, but there was something different now—less aggression, more calculation. It was a familiar look for the gladiator, looming in the shadows and watching with mild interest.

Sunrazor should be nowhere near him.

Theremin seemed to pick up on this, looking between the two gladiators for a moment before groaning slightly, “Oh for the love of– Dropmix leave.” The medic pointed to the door impatiently, “Go wait in the hallway.”

Dropmix startled and looked at the other, offended, “I didn’t–”

“Nope!” Theremin cut the other off, clearly frustrated, and looked at the larger mech. “Get out.”

For reasons beyond Comets' understanding, Dropmix actually listened. Maybe an underlying fear the BCP would be used again? Was Dropmix afraid of him? Whatever the reason, the hulking gladiator huffed and said nothing more and walked to the door. He paused as he opened it to look back at the remaining three mechs. His gaze lingered on Cometeater before he turned around and shut the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Dropmix, the room felt quieter, but the tension still lingered in Cometeater’s shoulders. He watched the closed door for a moment longer before exhaling sharply and finally stepping forward.

Theremin didn’t comment on his hesitation. He just pulled up a chair and got to work, methodically arranging his tools before gently reaching out. "Alright, let’s see the damage."

Cometeater paused for only a moment before loosening his hold, allowing Theremin to take Sunrazor. She squirmed at first, her small hands gripping at Comet’s plating, but after a few soft reassurances from him, she relented, allowing herself to be transferred into the medic’s hands.

The white mech murmured something quiet, soothing, his own plating rattling just slightly in a way that seemed almost… instinctual. It was a different kind of communication, something more subtle than words, and Sunrazor responded in kind—a smaller, weaker vibration in return. Cometeater frowned, watching the exchange. He still hadn’t quite figured out what that meant, the twins had never done that with him.

Theremin gently sat Sunrazor down on the bed and began to look her over, gently moving damaged plating and examining her stressed frame. His face was unreadable as he worked, scanning over the injuries. Some of the deeper gashes still leaked energon sluggishly, staining her plating and matting the golden shimmer of her frame with dark streaks. He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he took in each wound.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Theremin muttered, half to himself as he reached for a cloth and started cleaning around the worst of the cuts. “Took a beating but nothing too critical, probably thanks to her thick plating. Perks of being a guardian I suppose.”

Comet didn’t want it to be that way. She shouldn’t have to know how to take a beating. Her armor shouldn’t need to be thick, Sunrazor was a sparkling, a cub. She was not meant to fight or protect yet, thick armor and aggressive programs should come later in life.

Theremin worked with careful precision, his hands steady despite his obvious exhaustion. He was muttering softly to Sunrazor, his words a mixture of medical reassurances and something softer—something bordering on parental. Cometeater stood stiffly beside the berth, watching his every move.

After a moment, Theremin spoke, voice quieter than it had been. “I don’t mind, you know. Helping.” He glanced at Cometeater briefly before focusing on his work again.

“You act like I’m doing some great favor, but I’m not. I told you before—don’t let Dropmix scare you off—you come see me if something happens,” He dipped a cloth into a cleaning solution before carefully pressing it against one of Sunrazor’s wounds. She flinched, whining softly, but didn’t fight him. “I meant it.”

Cometeater frowned, “Why?”

Theremin let out a slow sigh. “Why not?”

“Because no one else does,” The words came out sharper than he intended, his thoughts lingering on his brother. “No one else wants to.”

Theremin paused for just a second before resuming his work, “It’s not everyday you see a gladiator pick up a defective sparkling and decide that it’s theirs,” the medic began with fondness in his tone, “I’ll be honest with you, Cometeater, I want to know why she was the one to catch your attention among all of the other sparklings you’ve seen here. It usually takes a while for Gladiators to get attached like this, but not you, not with her.”

The white mech looked at Cometeater, “You both are something special and I’ll be damned if I just sit and watch as you two go off and change peoples minds.”

Cometeater clenched his jaw, looking away again. That wasn’t much of an answer. Or maybe it was. Maybe he just didn’t like it. It wasn’t satisfying. Theremin should want something from this, there should be something to gain with how much he had gone out of his way to help them.

Silence settled between them again, the only sounds in the room the soft hum of machinery and the quiet, rhythmic clicking from Sunrazor. It wasn’t until Theremin started treating the last of her injuries that he spoke again, voice softer this time.

“You know Dropmix,” he said carefully, not looking up. It wasn’t a question.

Cometeater’s plating bristled instinctively, his tail flicking behind him. “I know of him.”

Theremin hummed, as if he expected that answer. “He’s not usually like that.”

The gladiator didn’t say anything, he looked at the medic with a black expression. Cometeater had seen Dropmix a few times around the Pits, and he had heard of him from others. He fell into a different classification that Comet did, he never really had to worry about facing him in the arena. From what he had seen, Dropmix was quiet and observant, too observant for his own liking. However, from what Comet had heard about him, he was merciless in combat.

Theremin gave him a tired look. “I mean it. He doesn’t usually react like that. It’s… complicated.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Cometeater finally spoke, his voice thick with venom, “You have his codes.”

Theremin stilled for just a second, his eyes flickering toward Cometeater with something unreadable in his expression. Then, he exhaled slowly and returned to his work, wrapping Sunrazor’s wound in careful practiced motions.

“I do,” he admitted simply. He didn’t try to deny it, didn’t try to argue. He just… acknowledged it.

Cometeater didn’t know what to do with that. He expected an excuse, an explanation, something more than just acceptance. His plating flared, the sharp edges of his frame clicking as they shifted uncomfortably.

Theremin’s tone remained calm, steady. “I have them because he gave them to me, I don’t own him, he’s free to leave if he wants.”

Comet didn’t know what to say to that. Another moment passed before Theremin pulled back, wiping his hands clean and nodding to himself. “Alright, that should do for now. Just keep an eye on her, make sure nothing reopens overnight.”

The gladiator nodded, carefully reaching for Sunrazor. The sparkling eagerly reached for him and made that mock purring sound when settling against his chest. She clung to him tightly, burning her face in his plating again.

Theremin stood, stretching with a soft groan. “You should probably head back. I’ll check on her again tomorrow.”

Cometeater hesitated, glancing toward the door. He could still feel Dropmix’s presence lingering on the other side, waiting. His plating shivered involuntarily.

Theremin must’ve caught it, because he sighed, rubbing his face. “I’ll walk you out.”

The Pretender wanted to protest, he opened his mouth to reply and shut it quickly upon looking at the medic. The look Theremin gave him said it wasn’t up for debate. Begrudgingly, he nodded, pulling Sunrazor a bit closer.

Theremin moved past him, opening the door with a quiet hiss. Dropmix was still there, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered up when the door opened, landing on Cometeater immediately.

Theremin stepped between them before anything could be said. “Let’s go to bed, Dropmix.”

The large gladiator didn’t say anything in response, quietly shifting off of the wall and walking back into the room, Theremin followed after a moment.