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aidanchaser · 4 months ago

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter Thirty-Six

Table of Contents Read on Ao3 Prologue

Amelie Graham de Vanily’s knees buckled and she fell onto her son’s bed. Her hands shook so badly that it was hard to read the words on the page. She pressed the letter flat against the blankets and blinked away the tears that threatened to blur her vision.

She couldn’t believe what she was reading, and she read it twice to be sure that she had understood it correctly, then a third time to convince herself it was true.

She had always believed that her husband was dead, but she never could have imagined that Gabriel had been the one to do it. She didn’t like Gabriel most days, but he was legally her brother. She trusted him with her life—and with her son’s life.

And for Nathalie to have been involved, too…

Amelie Graham de Vanily had only ever loved three people: her sister, her husband, and her son. Now, all of them were gone.

Amelie’s shock gave way to grief and tears tumbled down her powdered cheeks. She sobbed, just as she had the night her husband had disappeared and her sister had fallen asleep. She allowed herself a moment of self-pity and even a jolt of anger at Félix for leaving her just as his father had.

But she didn’t truly blame Félix. If even half of what he had written about Gabriel was true, it was a wonder that Félix had not run away a month ago.

Instead, she blamed herself for not paying enough attention. She blamed Nathalie for allowing this to go on. And she blamed Gabriel for the rest of it.

But once her tears had been spent, bitter fury filled in the void they left behind. Amelie was determined to set this right. Whatever it took and whatever the consequences, she would have her revenge.

Revenge was the last thing on Félix’s mind as Lila dragged him through the gardens of the palace. First and foremost he needed to find a way to get free, but it was hard to think beyond her order to stay close and, despite his inability to disobey, the way her nails dug into his wrist like he was a specimen she could pin in place.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Don’t ask questions,” she snapped back, and Félix’s throat went tight.

Adrien didn’t have to ask where his father was taking him. He knew exactly where this spiral staircase would end. His heart pounded frantically as he tried to prepare himself for what he would see. Would she be withered and worn? Or would she look just like her portrait, unchanged and untouched since she fell asleep and failed to wake up?

Adrien tried to swallow, but his muscles failed to dislodge the lump in his throat. He wished his father would loosen his grip on his wrist, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He couldn’t find the words to ask for anything.

The only words he could manage were, “Father, I am sorry, I only wanted—”

“You should have told me.”

Adrien flinched at his father’s sharp tone and stumbled on the next step, but Gabriel did not slow down, and Adrien was tugged along regardless, no better than a toddler struggling to keep pace.

“I just didn’t think you’d understand.”

That made Gabriel stop, and Adrien stopped too. Had they been on the same step, they might have been nose to nose, but instead, Adrien stared up into his father’s steely gray stare.

“You’re right,” Gabriel said. “I don’t understand. Do you know what you could have done with such power? And instead you wasted it on cheap tricks and foolhardy heroics.”

“Ladybug—”

“Did you know that you could use this power to awaken your mother?”

Everything in Adrien, from his heart to his lungs, seized up as if he had been thrust into a frozen river.

Adrien had already asked Plagg for that power on the day that they had met, and Plagg had told him that the miraculous gift of destruction wasn’t for breaking curses.

“You can’t,” Adrien finally managed. “I asked, I tried—”

But his father was no longer listening. Gabriel continued his ascent and pulled Adrien along after him. Adrien struggled to keep up, not because his father was moving particularly fast but because his feet were heavy as lead and he could hardly lift them over each step. Instead, he stumbled his way up the tower, held up only by the firm grip on his wrist.

Adrien slid his free hand into his pocket and brushed against Plagg’s coarse black fur. He received a nip on his finger from two sharp fangs.

Adrien winced, but he knew what Plagg wanted. “I don’t have cheese.”

Gabriel stopped on the stairs again. “What was that?”

“Nothing—I just—Father, whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work. It’s the miraculous gift of destruction, not—”

“Not creation?”

The miraculous gift of creation was currently split into two pieces, pieces that were growing farther and farther apart.

Though it had happened to Tikki before during her many centuries as the Fay of Luck and Creation, she was never particularly pleased when it did. Her power had not been crafted to be separated, and it always left her a little dizzy. Plagg had teased her for her choice of jewelry, but Tikki liked the diversity of shapes that earrings came in. It lent itself well to her creative nature. It was only on occasions like this that she could appreciate Plagg’s simpler tastes and his choice of a ring.

Marinette tugged on her remaining earring, but without its partner, it was useless—a feeling she could relate to all too well.

The guards had them all surrounded. The young man in green armor stood to her right, and she could feel Rena to her left, even though she could hardly see her. Luka, Chloé, and the young woman in red were behind her, all of them pinned down, despite the few active miraculous gifts.

“Another shield might be helpful,” the woman in red suggested as she thrust her sword forward, but the guards had been made intimately aware of its lightning-laced edges and parried with the wooden ends of their javelins readily.

“I can’t raise a new shield without releasing the power of subjection,” the Guardian replied.

Marinette glanced up at the green orb overhead and the swirling yellow mist within. “Then do it.”

Rena raised her eyebrows and smirked as she followed Marinette’s thinking. “Good plan, as long as you’re quick about it.”

The Guardian was quick about it. He released the shield overhead, and the pollen burst out like a coiled spring ready to release. Before any of them could take a breath, he put up a fresh carapace over the six of them, leaving the king’s guards to face the yellow mist alone.

One by one, they sank to the ground unconscious.

The Guardian glanced around the ballroom. “It will continue to spread if we don’t contain it soon. Unchecked, it could affect the entire kingdom.”

“Why can’t Ladybug just fix it?” Chloé whined.

“A Lucky Charm can’t restore the item Hawk Moth curses,” Rena snapped, “or have you not been paying attention this past year?”

“The only way to fix it is to return it to the Forest of Fay and give the fay time to contain the magic again,” The Guardian replied with much more patience. “Otherwise, the power of subjection could continue to wreak havoc on the world in worse forms than this.”

“I can gather together the pollen,” the woman in red replied. “But I imagine the king’s guards will regain consciousness once I do.”

“I’ll provide an illusion to make them think we’ve fled,” Rena suggested, “and I can lead them away from here.”

“And then what?” Luka asked. “We go after Lila Rossi and Prince Félix?”

“We go after Adrien!” said Chloé.

“His Highness is probably fine,” said Rena. “He’ll get a scolding from his father and a pardon for Chat Noir. Even King Gabriel won’t hang the Crown Prince.”

“No! It’s something worse.” Chloé pressed her hand to her forehead, irritated with herself that she could not remember. She had been cursed before, and Ladybug’s rescue always came with a vague emptiness of emotion and a hazy gap of memory. Instead of being angry with Adrien and Lila as she had been when she was cursed, she felt hollowed out and drained—but her anger with Gabriel for reneging on his promise still lingered. It burned in her chest, inciting her fury still, and something attached to it made her terrified for Adrien, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not name it.

The storm clouds in the woman’s robes slowed their swirling and their dark color faded to white. They drifted across her blue silk as if moving through a gentle breeze. “Ready when you are.”

Rena raised her flute to her lips and performed another melody.

As she did, the illusion protecting Marinette fell, but so did the image of Marinette. All six of them disappeared from view, to themselves and to each other, and a gentle wind began to swirl around the ballroom, sweeping up the pollen until it was gathered in new a tight sphere near the chandelier.

The guards woke slowly, confused at first by where they were and what had happened, but each one understood what an empty ballroom meant: they had failed.

They split into two groups—one to search the palace and another to search the terrace and the gardens. Once they were gone, Rena traded the illusion of invisibility for Ladybug’s costume once more.

Marinette reached for the ribbons that tied her hair back, but her hands passed through Rena’s illusion, landing instead on the coils Master Fu had pulled her hair into. She fished out the pin with the crane and plum blossoms on it, and her hair cascaded down to her shoulders.

“No chance of making this your miraculous gift?” Marinette whispered to Tikki. The hope in her voice bordered on desperation.

Tikki shook her head then winced from the motion. “You need to get the earring back from Félix and get me another treat if you want to become Ladybug again.”

Marinette tucked both Tikki and the hairpin into her dress and fidgeted anxiously with her remaining earring. At least Lila wouldn’t be able to use the power of Ladybug either.

The Guardian eyed the collection of magical pollen that was being carefully contained in a swirl of wind. “If you’re certain you can get that safely to the Forest of Fay, then I’ll go after Lila Rossi and recover the miraculous gift of creation.”

Chloé stamped her foot impatiently. “You have to help Adrien! Why aren’t you listening to me?”

But the others continued to ignore her, all except Luka, who knew Adrien and Félix alike were in danger, though he couldn’t say how or why any better than Chloé could.

“Maybe I could create an illusory Ladybug to trick Prince Félix into thinking he grabbed a fake?” Rena suggested. “And we can use that to lead him into a trap.”

“It might work,” the Guardian murmured. “We should consider that if Prince Adrien has been Chat Noir this past year, is it possible that Prince Félix took the earring because he’s been Hawk Moth all this—”

“No!” Chloé interrupted as the truth snapped into place like a nail being driven through her skull. “We have to go after Adrien because King Gabriel is Hawk Moth!”

Gabriel let go of Adrien’s wrist to light a candle once they reached the top of the tower.

Adrien hesitated on the threshold as the light bloomed suddenly and brought to life the clusters of white lilies that framed a gilded coffin. The lid was made of glass, perfectly polished so that Adrien could see the sleeping form of his mother.

She was unchanged entirely. From her golden hair swept over her shoulder to her hands folded across her chest—she looked exactly as she had the very last day that Adrien had seen her, and all the grief and anguish from that day swelled up in Adrien’s chest, as fresh as it had been that morning she had failed to awaken.

It took all of Adrien’s courage not to turn and run.

Adrien, as had become habit in the last year, instead twisted his miraculous gift around his finger. It had been his only source of freedom, and he reached for it like a lifeline every time he felt cornered. He wished he could transform now; perhaps he would jump out the small round window and out of this castle.

But without any cheese, he had no offering for Plagg, no way to bargain for his freedom.

“Father, I am sorry,” Adrien tried again. “I promise, I was going to give up Chat Noir when I married Princess Kagami. It was just—”

“You would give up the power of destruction?” Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at Emilie. His jaw trembled with tension, but Adrien could not say if it was anger or grief. “Imagine, Adrien, if you could destroy this world and remake it in the way you wished. Think of what you could make better.”

Adrien’s very first thought was that he would make a world that allowed him to come and go from the palace as he pleased, rather than be forced into a marriage with a woman he did not love. His second thought was for his mother.

“And what would it cost?” Adrien asked. “The fay don’t give their power for free.”

Gabriel frowned, but it was closer to revulsion than anger. “No, they do not, or your mother would not be in the state she is in now. You see, she traded twenty years of her life for the power to have a child.”

Adrien’s throat turned dry. “She—what?”

“She gave up twenty years to have a son. She gave up another twenty years for a nephew, though I can’t imagine why she bothered. Just think, Adrien, if you had never had a cousin, you never would have lost your mother.”

“I don’t understand,” but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he understood perfectly well.

“No? So tell me why you stole the Fay of Emotion from the safe in my office.”

“I didn’t! Father, I swear, Scarabella and I only took Trixx—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then who…” Gabriel wrinkled his nose as an answer occurred to him, but he didn’t bother to share it with Adrien. “It will not matter shortly. You’re going to help me retrieve Ladybug’s miraculous gift.”

“Why?”

“I have just told you. With both miraculous gifts, we can remake the world with your mother in it.”

Adrien still didn’t understand, but he could put together enough. His mother had made a bargain with a fay to create him and Félix, and the price had been forty years of her life. He was slowly beginning to see what his father thought the cost of this new world with Emilie awake again would be.

“You can’t sacrifice Félix to bring Maman back! She wouldn’t want that.”

“You don’t know that.” Gabriel rested a hand on the glass that separated him and Emilie. “She didn’t know what she was giving up when she doubled her sacrifice.”

“But it was her choice!”

Gabriel, however, did not see things Adrien’s way. His visible disgust transformed into a snarl. “How dare you—you ungrateful child!”

Adrien bit down on his tongue.

Of course he wanted his mother back. He had ventured into the Forest of Fay to save her, had risked his life to find some way to undo whatever had cursed her into slumber. But now that he knew it wasn’t a curse…

His mother had asked the fay for a gift, just as he had, and she had willingly paid the price. It was more than Adrien would have liked her to pay, certainly, but that wasn’t something he could take back or undo. That wasn’t how sacrifice worked.

“She gave everything for you,” Gabriel continued. “Now hand over that ring, since you don’t seem to have the heart to do what needs to be done.”

Adrien tightened his hand into a fist. “Father, it won’t work! Plagg, tell him it won’t work.”

Though Plagg was perfectly capable of flight, he climbed out of Adrien’s pocket, tiny claws snapping silk threads as he went, until he reached Adrien’s shoulder. His luminescent green eyes passed over King Gabriel like he was eyeing a cheese platter laced with poison.

Plagg had longed for this very moment for the past year, for his confrontation with the man who had tried to use human sacrifice, who had been willing only on the slightest technicality, to claim Tikki’s power. He considered just how rewarding it would be to unleash his true power on Gabriel, but he wasn’t sure he was prepared to pay the cost—the cost of Adrien’s trust.

There was also a new factor that Plagg had not been aware of before this moment. While he had known that Gabriel was Hawk Moth, had known what Gabriel had done to gain that power, and had known how desperately Gabriel wanted the powers of destruction and creation, Plagg had not known that Adrien and his cousin alike had been created by fay magic. That changed things, and it explained why it had been so hard for Plagg to loosen the bonds between Adrien and his father. If Gabriel still had whatever item Adrien was bound to, then it didn’t matter what Plagg said or did; Adrien would always follow his father’s orders—and so would his cousin, even to the point of self-sacrifice. But if Plagg could get his hands on the object… if he only knew what it was…

Plagg’s low, rough voice was cool and even as he said, “Adrien’s right. It won’t work—at least, it won’t work with what you’ve told him so far. But you’ve left out some details, Hawk Moth.”

While Adrien floundered for words, Gabriel adjusted the pin at his throat. It was a plain gray brooch, nothing particularly dramatic or outstanding. There were no signs it was a miraculous gift, just as the plain silver band on Adrien’s finger belied its destructive nature.

As Gabriel issued the command for his own transformation and was washed out in lavender light, Adrien, in panic and desperation, gasped, “Plagg, claws out—”

Plagg would be pleased to grant Adrien his power, but that wasn’t how magic worked. “If you want my power, then you need to broker a new deal or fulfill the old one.”

Though King Gabriel was no taller as Hawk Moth than he was as himself, he seemed to loom over Adrien and fill the room in a way he hadn’t before. The purple robe that draped over his shoulders was lined with thick white furs and the butterflies embroidered into his silk jerkin glistened as if they were made with real silver. The jeweled chains around his neck glittered in the candlelight, casting flecks of purple light into the edges of the room as he approached Adrien.

Though Adrien knew it was his father before him, it didn’t feel like his father, and no matter how many times Adrien tried to tell himself that his father wasn’t going to hurt him, the thought refused to stick.

Adrien took a step back, but the stair behind him might as well have been a cliff. He braced himself against the threshold at the top of the stairs and tried to wrangle the panicked animal his heart had become. He felt it scrabbling against his ribcage, desperate for escape. He needed to run, he needed to transform, he needed to get out—

Somewhere far below, wood slammed against stone and footsteps began to echo up the stairs. Hawk Moth either did not notice or did not care.

“Your uncle,” Hawk Moth said in a low voice, “gave up everything to see your mother returned. Don’t let his failure be in vain, Adrien. Hand me your ring.”

Plagg chuckled softly. “That’s not the truth, is it, Your Majesty?” Though he used the honorific, it dripped with distaste. “Is that what you’ll tell Félix when you ask him to give his life so you can lay claim to the powers of creation and destruction?”

Hawk Moth’s upper lip curled in disgust that mirrored Plagg’s. “I won’t need to tell him anything. He’ll do as I say once I get his father’s ring back. There’s only two people who might have it, and I’ll claim it shortly. But first, Adrien is going to hand over that miraculous gift, and return my wedding ring while he’s at it.”

And Plagg knew, as certainly as he thought he would ever know, exactly what object kept Adrien tethered to this world. He needed to get Adrien away from here, and quickly.

“Make me a deal, kid,” Plagg hissed in his ear.

Adrien’s heel went over the edge of the step and his center of gravity fell backwards. He barely caught himself on the edge of the arched entrance to his mother’s resting place. Plagg’s claws dug into Adrien’s shoulder as he, too, tried to stop himself from tumbling down the flight of stairs.

Adrien looked up at Hawk Moth, whose figure now blocked his mother from view. He searched, desperately, for some sign that it was truly his father behind the mask, but he saw none. He also, just as desperately, searched for something he could sacrifice in exchange for Plagg’s power, but he wasn’t having any more success.

He was trapped and helpless.

Ever since his conversation with Master Fu, Adrien had been considering what he might be able to give up that would give Plagg’s new holder a measure of permanence with Plagg’s power, some sort of sacrifice that would last beyond a single use. It would make fighting Hawk Moth so much easier, but Adrien wasn’t sure what he had to give. He had no freedom, he had no power, not truly. He had people that he loved—Ladybug, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, Félix, his father and aunt, even Plagg—but he wouldn’t give that love up for anything.

He loved his mother, too. And even that did not seem worth giving up.

The only thing he could think of giving up—and he wasn’t even sure it would work because he wasn’t sure that he had it anymore—was hope.

“Not all of it,” Plagg whispered, as if he could read Adrien’s mind. “Don’t give me your soul—just a part of it, just one thing—”

And as Adrien landed on the one thing he could give up, the one thing he probably should have given up the moment he and his father had begun this conversation, it was like the deal was already sealed.

“Claws out,” Adrien gasped as Hawk Moth pulled a pale white butterfly from his brooch.

Plagg took Adrien’s hope that his mother would ever wake up and, in exchange, filled Adrien’s blood and bones with the magic of chaos and destruction. As his power filled the void, Adrien’s hope turned to bitterness.

In the early days of grieving his mother, it had been almost impossible for Adrien to use his powers effectively. But he had learned to control them, and the freedom of being Chat Noir combined with working alongside Ladybug had given him hope in a future again. His Cataclysm had become manageable from not only use and practice, but thanks to a quelling of his grief.

Here, at the top of the tower where his mother rested, as he gave up all hope that he might have her back for even a moment, his grief and heartbreak swelled to a new crescendo.

At least Adrien did not need to call on his destructive power. He only needed to get out, get away from Hawk Moth, find Ladybug, and—

Ladybug crested the top of the steps, and her hand lunged straight for Chat Noir’s shoulder. The Guardian was right behind Ladybug, reaching desperately to pull her back.

Regardless of the new arrivals, however, Hawk Moth’s pale white butterfly found its home readily. There was only one draw of emotion, of anguish and grief so powerful that it called to the butterfly like a song. The butterfly landed on the silver band on Adrien’s finger, engraved with vines and his mother’s maiden name.

Hawk Moth grabbed Chat Noir and pulled him out of Ladybug’s reach as the ring turned inky black. “Tell me, what price are you willing to pay for victory, Ladybug? Because I am prepared to sacrifice everything.”

“Wh-what do you mean everything?”

She hardly sounded like herself. The woman who had marched into Gabriel’s ballroom and demanded the return of the Fay of Trickery and Illusion was not the woman who stood before him, cowering beside a man in armor and stuttering through her fear.

It was almost disappointing how easy this final showdown was going to be.

“The ring he wears is the very thing that ties him to life. Break it and undo the curse, and you will lose him for good.”

Marinette pressed her hand to her mouth, hiding her gasp. Chloé had told them all she could remember from her time as Queen Wasp—Gabriel was Hawk Moth, and she knew because she had seen a memory of him talking to Queen Emilie about a ring that kept Prince Adrien alive and controlled him—but she had hardly believed it. But to hear Hawk Moth himself verify it, she no longer held any doubt.

“The cost of that kind of power to remake the world would be at least another life,” the Guardian said. “How can you be okay with that? How can you think your son would be okay with that?”

“Chat Noir, you can resist it,” Ladybug tried to step forward, but the Guardian held her back. “Chat Noir, can you hear me?”

But the only voice Chat Noir could hear was Hawk Moth’s pounding inside his head.

“Chat Blanc,” Hawk Moth’s voice seemed to curl around him, like smoke warping its shape in a gentle breeze, “you could have everything you want—you can have a world with your mother back. All you need to do is retrieve Ladybug’s miraculous gift.”

The offer itself was not tempting. Adrien had just given up all hope of seeing his mother again, and even Hawk Moth could not return that hope to him. The way Hawk Moth’s power fed his grief, however, was irresistible. Everything inside of him hurt so much, and wouldn��t it bring some measure of relief to turn it all outward?

“Chat Noir, listen to me!” Ladybug shouted. “Your Highness!” she tried, but her cries had no effect.

Violet light rippled across Chat Noir, slowly bleaching all of the black from his magical guise and leaving it white as snow. Even the power that crackled at his finger tips glistened hot and white instead of black.

“Ladybug, if you won’t hand her miraculous gift over,” Hawk Moth snarled, “then Chat Blanc will take it from you.”

But Chat Blanc still had one hand pressed to his head, like he might throw Hawk Moth off at any moment, just as Luka had done earlier that evening.

“Chat Noir, please!” Marinette begged.

With gritted teeth and watery eyes, he snarled, “I’m not Chat Noir.”

And the burning white power in his hand swelled with all of his grief and heartbreak until it filled the entire room.

#ml fairy tale au #boulangerella #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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bnhamixjuice-sfw · 3 years ago

Text

ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #shouta x y/n #shouta x reader #shouta x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #Reposted my old fic/hc here cause I forgot to remove keep reading before deactivating

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husbandograveyard · 4 years ago

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Hi Hazel! Thank you for the romantic holiday with Ace! It was adorable!

May I please have Soft / romantic ❤ vibes + 👶 Baby + Sanji?

Thank you very much and have a great day! ^^

hi Ki! Super glad you enjoyed that one, I hope you'll like this one too. Some soft Sanji to soothe the soul <3 hope you have a great day! This one accidentally became a little long, hope you don't mind <3

How the crew had gotten hold of a toddler, you weren't too sure of. That the Thousand sunny was not the best place to have a small child at, was something you did know. So you were holding the child in your arms for most of the day, trying to distract it and play games as much as possible, but getting more and more tired every minute. There weren't a lot of crew members you could trust with keeping an eye on the infant while you'd take a break, and by now you kind of felt responsible, so you just ground your teeth and decided to push through.

Until the child started crying. Ear piercing screams, while you desperately tried to calm them down, tried to tell them that you'd soon be back in the village you left a little while ago so they could be back with their parents. It was unsure if the kid actually understood a word of what you said, but even if they did, there was nothing that seemed to calm them down.

You looked around, eyes desperate for someone, anyone, to take over for a second and help you with the kid, but the moment the crying had begun, most of the crew had disappeared, doing 'duties' or just not available. You made your way to the only person that would maybe help you, and walked into the kitchen, nearly slamming open the door.

"Sanji, please, I am desperate, I can't make them stop crying."

Sanji looked up startled from the veggies he was chopping, took one look at the kid, one look at you, and then immediately started rummaging in cupboards. You couldn't really see what exactly he was doing, but you hoped for the both of you that he was doing something that would help.

Within five minutes Sanji had prepared the kid a snack, presented it, and made cooing noises, and the combination of those things had made the cried diminish into sobs and eventually into mere sniffles as the kid happily started munching on the treat.

Sanji smiled and spread his arms, taking the kid over from you for a bit so you and your arms could have some rest. He sat down, bouncing the kid on his leg, who was now actually laughing.

"I didn't know you were so good with kids?" You were genuinely surprised and looked at your boyfriend with a questioning look.

"Oh y/n my love, you don't even know half of the things I can do." He added a flirty wink and you just rolled your eyes in response, although your curiosity was piqued.

#Sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece #one piece x reader #opfic #one piece reader insert #drabble #one piece drabble #reader insert #genderneutral reader #smol-fatale #MiniMysteryEvent #1y event #scheduled post

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faelicy · 4 years ago

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Miss Faelicy I would love to get your opinion on Bingqiu.

I see people posting things like how they are "problematic" and how they don't really love each other and SQQ only feels sympathy etc. Obviously there were struggles between them as there should be (considering all that happened) and just because sqq wasn't very open and super obvious about his feelings doesn't mean they are not there..this is how I interpreted it. I would love to know your opinion

Hello! This also covers part 2 of the previous ask.

First, massive spoilers for the end of the novel. Second, a disclaimer: I despise shipwars, which I think are behind most of those comments. I hate them because it's usually all in bad faith: everyone's already committed to their interpretation of the ships, and any discussion is just a guise for justifying their preferences.

So to any readers: I don't want anything here to be used as shipwar fuel. This post is about Bingqiu's canon arc and themes. Basically, I don't know or care if Bingqiu is a good ship, but I do think it's a well-written one.

I'll start by saying directly: for most of the novel, Bingqiu is neither healthy nor romantic. And that this is not bad writing, but on purpose.

A relationship that drives one party to mental breakdown isn't healthy. A relationship where that party says it's okay to hurt or kill them can't possibly be healthy. That happened because there was something deeply wrong with their relationship, something that can't be reduced to Xin Mo, miscommunication, or LBH throwing a tropey yandere fit.

And out of all three MXTX novels, only SV lacks a love confession from the MC to the ML. Again, I don't think it's an oversight, or just because SQQ's face is too thin. There are plenty of ways MXTX could have worked a subtle one in if she really wanted to.

In my opinion, Bingqiu's narrative can be split up into four arcs: Qing Jing Peak (ch 1-27), Jin Lan City (28-43), Post-revival (29-55), and Reconciliation (56-81). Other than the first arc, where their relationship is pretty straightforward, Bingqiu spend most of the rest in direct conflict.

I'll give an overview of the arcs here, but what I truly want to say about Bingqiu starts in arc 4, so if you're impatient you can scroll down. But the overview might help add context.

Jin Lan City arc is about LBH's anger at being brutally betrayed by the one person he thought he could trust. Here he tries to force answers out of SQQ, who he believes both hates him and is a hypocrite. He's driven by a desire to return to the past, but his rage and love makes his actions contradictory: on one hand he tries to win SQQ's approval constructively, by climbing to the top of Huan Hua Palace and performing good deeds, on the other hand his belief that SQQ doesn't care about him so it's all futile anyway (reinforced by SQQ's own actions) causes him to lash out destructively, going as far as to hurt and imprison SQQ.

LBH's bitterness is portrayed very negatively, because all it does is instill despair into SQQ, until SQQ ends up believing that he's only been a blight on LBH's life, and that he must make up for it by killing himself. Whereupon LBH breaks down, regressing into a childlike state. Some might ask, why does LBH never bring up the Abyss again afterwards? It's because he gives up here. This entire arc is about getting LBH to let go of past wrongs and to stop seeking answers, whether the reader believes it's fair to him or not. Because SQQ's life is more important.

Post-revival arc then is about SQQ trying to come to terms with a blackened LBH who also loves him. Interestingly, despite SQQ's horror at realizing LBH was romantically interested in him all along, SQQ actually has a very subtle but telling secondary reaction. To explain, let's back up to the first arc.

Starting around ch 9, probably as a sign of his growing affection, SQQ begins addressing LBH as 这孩子, or "this child," in his internal monologue, instead of LBH's name. He does it once each in ch 9, 12, 17, 21, 25. However, once Jin Lan City arc starts, SQQ drops the address entirely. LBH and "child" are never brought up together except for one snarky comment on LBH's tantrum being disgracefully childish in ch 38.

At first glance this doesn't look noteworthy because LBH by this point is no longer a kid. But when LBH kisses him in ch 49, SQQ changes again: right away he returns to using "child" on LBH, and the "this child" address starts popping up at a much higher frequency. By the end of SV SQQ has referred to LBH as a child in some manner at least 35 times (yes I went and counted), with the vast majority after ch 49, and he continues to do so right into the last extra.

Why was SQQ unwilling to use this address of affection for over 20 chapters? Perhaps because he too thought LBH hated him, and couldn't bear to think about him so intimately knowing that. So SQQ immediately falling back into it the moment he learns LBH loves him is a sign of his relief. He's still dismayed at the romantic part, but though SQQ likes to deflect from his real emotions (this is the guy who focused on bad naming sense after being fatally poisoned, who cavalierly commented only after it was all over that he'd expected to die), the fact that LBH loves and doesn't hate him, means a lot.

Here SQQ's feelings towards LBH are at their most complicated. He still assumes the worst of him like in Jin Lan City, but now because of the above, also sees a lonely child whenever LBH is unhappy and lost. It's like he has two filters actively interfering with each other, "crazed criminal" and "pitiful child," and so he flip-flops between pushing LBH away and comforting him. But when LBH drags CQMS into it, and even seemingly takes advantage of SQQ's love for him, SQQ's negative image and frustration with him only grows, until he finally snaps and tells LBH to never come near him again.

At this point SQQ still believes that LBH is the same black-hearted, invincible, devil incarnate that og!LBH was portrayed to be. The Reconciliation arc starts by chipping away at this filter that's been plaguing SQQ for so long. First the revelation that TLJ/ZZL was behind the sowers, thus clearing LBH's name at Jin Lan City. Then we see how unloved he is by his own father; we see him injured and helpless and unconscious. Meng Mo yells at SQQ, reinforcing that image of a vulnerable, terrified child. So by ch 62 SQQ has thrown away the "crazed criminal" filter completely, and in that same chapter they cling to each other and finally make up. Because while it's true that the current LBH is misanthropic, antisocial, and mercurial, SQQ has also finally accepted that he's still the same LBH he'd raised and doted on, back on Qing Jing Peak.

Now I'm going to talk about what I see as the most important part of Bingqiu. Yes, despite the wall of text already.

A common sentiment of Bingqiu shippers about their issues seems to be, "SQQ is dumb and oblivious; he can't figure out what LBH needs even though he loves him because he sees LBH as a novel character," but I think the problem is far more complicated and insidious than that. If that was everything, why give SQQ the epiphany that he misunderstood LBH so early? Why have him think in ch 66 that "truthfully, he'd never really trusted Luo Binghe, and that's why he kept accidentally hurting him?" If he's already realized that he shouldn't treat LBH like og!LBH (he even meets og!LBH in ch 71 to rub it in further), why do we go another 13 chapters believing their relationship is good and well, even giving us a sweet, happy moment in ch 75, only to show LBH having the worst breakdown of the novel just 4 chapters later? Was it all just padding to demonstrate the danger of Xin Mo?

Or is there something else beneath the surface?

In ch 66, the same chapter where SQQ implies he doesn't want to accidentally hurt LBH anymore, he says something telling. When LQG is skeptical that LBH can be trusted, SQQ thinks, 家里孩子不懂事，大人不容易做, or "when your child doesn't know any better, as the adult you don't have it easy." The child here of course refers to LBH, and the adult is SQQ, who's complaining about smoothing over LBH's messes. But what is SQQ implying here?

Doesn't know any better? That's what you say about a toddler who can't think for themselves, not a grown man. LBH is 25 and SQQ thinks he doesn't know better. Doesn't know better about what? LBH's wants, his needs? His feelings? Or even what's good for him?

And then you realize that's exactly how SQQ's always treated him, like a helpless child who can't make his own choices.

It's SQQ who chooses to throw LBH down into the Abyss without trying to talk to him. It's SQQ who decides that keeping silent is the best choice. It's SQQ who believes self-destructing in front of LBH will help, who thinks that breaking off their relationship is for the better. And it's SQQ who scolds LBH into tolerating CQMS, even though they hate each other and CQMS is hostile towards him. Who forces him to leave first at Zhao Hua Temple despite LBH's pleas otherwise, who shoos him out the window when CQMS walks in on them.

Every single one of these decisions, SQQ made believing it was for the best (repair LBH's relationship with his family, help him avoid arrest, not wanting to make excuses, wanting LBH to be free of his hatred), and every single one of them only damaged LBH further. Because SQQ's never listened to him, even once. Never consulted him or considered his feelings.

(And LBH did try to bring up his feelings on one of the matters in ch 75. He insinuates to SQQ that he doesn't like LQG calling him "little beast" or "ingrate." And SQQ's response is to dismiss them entirely, saying that LQG's "not wrong.")

SQQ has always loved LBH, but he's never once respected LBH's agency or personhood. Because LBH doesn't know better and SQQ does, so SQQ must make all his decisions for him.

And this, amplified by Xin Mo, is what finally drives LBH mad in ch 79.

To LBH, the important part isn't whether SQQ loves him, which I think he knew after ch 43 (it's why he can be so daring and pushy with SQQ's boundaries). What's important is that the moment SQQ believes abandoning LBH is justified for whatever reason again, SQQ absolutely will.

Ch 80's two-way noncon (since LBH was basically unconscious and couldn't consent) tends to draw most of the attention, but I actually think that what happens afterwards is one of the most important scenes for Bingqiu. There SQQ tries to sacrifice himself a second time for LBH, drawing Xin Mo's demonic qi into his body. Yet the novel claims that SQQ's actions here are completely different than in ch 43. SQQ himself says that this time he's doing it for LBH, while last time he was doing it for himself. But can the reader see a functional difference?

There is one, in fact: it's SQQ's response to LBH's choice afterwards. LBH decides to follow SQQ in death, even though this would void the point of SQQ's sacrifice. But instead of insisting otherwise, SQQ just accepts it. Because he finally understands that whether LBH's life is worth living, whether LBH will be better off, is for LBH and only LBH to decide.

It's the first time he respects LBH's agency. And this is the only reason why he and LBH can finally begin building a healthy relationship on the mess they've had up to now.

So that's what I see as the true beauty behind Bingqiu. It's about communication and mistaken assumptions, yes, but it's also about the nature of love between parent and child. The romantic developments were left to the extras, I believe, because this was the main story MXTX wanted to tell with them. Their relationship as lovers only starts afterwards, hence why SV ends with, "the story between you and I, has only just begun." It was never meant to be a whirlwind romance where they fall in love cleanly. It might not to be to everyone's tastes, but an incredible amount of thought was put into the narrative, and that's what amazed me when I first finished this novel.

(This post went on way too long and I ended up cutting off a huge chunk of tangential stuff and how SQQ came to his realization in ch 79: he didn't do it alone. It took him seeing the LBH in TLJ and the himself in YQY for him to understand. In fact, YQY and og!SQQ's relationship has a similar parent-and-child dynamic. I've touched on it before on twitter; if there's interest I might try writing that up here too.)

#scum villain #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #sv meta #spoilers #fae's meta #translation notes

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sdv-mostly-shane · 4 years ago

Text

Hello! January is birthday month for my children, and now that we got the last one down, time to get right back in ~ In the spirit of parenthood, here’s some Stardew Parent Headcannons of all the marriage candidates -

Stardew Valley Imagines : Parent Headcannons

Bachelors

Alex

The kind of dad to be at every appointment/interview/inspection and cry at every point of progress “we’re one step closer to our beautiful baby”

Will absolutely cry once he holds that baby, and will have a hard time letting them go to his partner

Baby wearing extraordinaire- has multiple options for different occasions

Matching track suits to hide the fact that they were both a hot mess that morning trying to get out the door, but they did it, so time to celebrate

Would ironically have a brainiac child that he is absolutely enamoured with and admires - he sits at their little table, spilling out of the tiny chair, but refuses to budge because his baby is telling him about the water cycle of the Earth, and he doesn’t want to miss a thing

Elliot

A very ‘hands off’ parent - will observe them at play and not pressure them in any particular way

Probably a Waldorf dad

Sits his babies in his lap every night to read- they are the first ones he tests out a new limerick on, and respects their criticisms as much as their praise

Lots of evening walks down the sea shore and the forest edge.

Out of the bachelors, I think would be the most sensitive/attune to them, and would be great at breaking down their complex emotions and thoughts, and would especially be so with any neurodivergent children.

Harvey

The type to plop down a stack of parenting and pediatric books on the dining room table as soon as you two have decided to welcome children into your lives

Is the one to show the farmer how to change a diaper

In fact, just count Harvey as the one to be the party planning, baby book filling, milestone documenting professional. He’s got it covered.

Loves the newborn stage, is terrified of toddlerhood, but then back in control once they’re like 6. And then terrified again once they are teenagers (his kids actually consider him a friend as well as a father and actually enjoy hanging out with him (sometimes))

100% a helicopter parent, but more so the ‘I love you so much I don’t want you to ever experience any pain’ type of way

Sam

Probably has an accidental love child at one point

You can find him in bed with the baby, singing songs together, while he spikes the baby’s hair nice and tall

Do you honestly think this young man would not use every dad joke ever known? Because he would- and he would find them all absolutely hilarious

The fun dad that will also actively try to embarrass his kids in front of their friends

Keeps his kids home for “sick days” to sit on the couch together, no pants, no homework, and all laughter.

Sebastian

Would be stressed when they are newborns, but relax as they get older. By the time they’re teens, he would have cultivated a very trust and respect-based relationship with them where his kids are comfortable telling him anything

You’ll find him quietly at every event, game, recital, competition, imaginable. Supporting his children with his presence and then taking them out that evening to do something fun, crazy, or maybe even a little dangerous

His most fond parenting moments are when the baby is in their bouncer right besides him, happily babbling away and smiling at him, while he does his work at the computer. Quality time is his baby love language.

The type of dad to patiently and honestly answer his children’s millions of questions about anything and everything.

Will absolutely take them out to splash in the puddles when it rains (but then will also send them straight to the bath)

Shane

Is already pretty experienced in the parenting realm, but is thrown into a whole new adventure with the newborn phase. Finds himself to truly LOVE babies and toddlers

“Hm, can’t sleep? Let’s go get a snack.” “But dad, it’s 1AM” “I do this all the time, don’t worry. Just don’t tell [parent]”

Would let his kids roam free, but only if he is supervising, and is actually kinda strict/short. Absolutely fears losing his children and will do anything and everything to make sure they grow up safe and cared for.

A very stressed daddy but only because he loves his children so much that he would die if anything happened to them

The best cuddler out of all the bachelor parents. Wanna soft spot to curl up on the couch? He’s already passed out with his head back, snoring. His nice pudgy ‘dad’ belly makes the perfect pillow to rest baby heads on while he reads a book.

Bachelorettes

Abigail

The fun parent.

The kind that wakes up early on a Saturday with their kids, just as excited as they are, to eat sugar cereal and watch a show together.

Is always down to play (especially play fight). Will (endearingly) spook their partner a bit when they rough house because Abby has that wild feral look in her eye too often

The competitive parent that gets just a liiiitle too involved in whatever sport/organization/fair/et.al that the child is partaking in-all in good fun, of course.

I can picture her taking her child out to the forest, late at night, to lay on the soft moss. She’d tell them about monsters, lore, crystals, and everything supernatural and mystic. Whispering in the dark as they point up to the stars and laugh and laugh and laugh

Emily

Hippy granola mom to a T - have you seen her “organic quinoa and fresh goat milk” quote? She’d do anything to provide the best that nature has to offer her children

While her disposition toward her children is incredibly loving and free-spirited, she would probably be very resposible and stressed about doing right for her children

Would absolutely take her children by the hand, in various states of dress (jammies? Okay. Just a diaper? Alright. Ballgown? Let’s go), out to the forest with handmade woven baskets to collect all the gifts from the Earth that they can find

Absolutely the Craft Mom - she’d be all about enrichment, sensory play, and fostering a creative spirit

Tells the best stories. After bedtime routine, will sit with her children in thrir bed, and will tell stories of magic, of love, and of adventure. Her kids, eyes bright, won’t want the night to end, because mom is showing us how much wonder and mystery is in the world

Haley

So gentle and so sweet with her kids, but can send them running with just a ‘look’

Would be a nervous wreck the first go round, but an absolute master by the time the second comes around

Helicopter parent that obsesses over every milestone, growth, and accomplishment of their child. SO proud of them and can’t wait to praise them and brag about them.

The wonder parent that can do it all while looking absolutely breathtaking. She makes it look easy once she gets the hang of it

Can’t you just picture her and her baby girl in matching flowy Daisy sundresses dresses with pink ribbons in their beautiful blonde curls, chasing after each other barefoot in the fields, while the golden grass dances in the wind- gah I love this pretty pretty princess so much.

Leah

Cool Wine mom that drives a Subaru

Would absolutely read her child to bed every night, until they fell asleep.

Her transition into motherhood was flawless. She’s a natural parent who just loves in abundance

Soooo many nature walks, hikes, and camping trips. Always accompanied with a picnic basket, quiet peacefulness, and heart to hearts about whatever is going on in their life.

The definition of free-range parenting, encouraging self discovery and independence. Yeah, she’ll always step in when needed with some kind encouragement or advice, but would much rather watch her children learn about the world on their own terms

Maru

The do-it-all parent. Signs up for activities, projects, school boards, committees, and teams. Is actually on time, prepared, and succeeds in all of these.

The most prepared and responsible out of any of the parents. Always has snacks in her diaper bag and a first aid kit

Did someone say routine/chore chart

Would show love for her children through learning and new experiences-the best part about being a parent for her is watching her child’s brain turning and working as they think about the environment in front of them. At her best, her kids think she is incredibly fun and they have a blast doing anything and everything with her

Not exactly tender/overly affectionate with her kids, but absolutely concerned about being the best mom she can be by having balance of learning, play, discipline, and love.

Penny

Literally just Miss Honey from Matilda

Pinterest mom. All the crafts, DIYs, bento boxes with cute little caterpillar grapes-you name it, she’s already done it AND packed your backpack and laid your clothes out for you.

Can be heard saying “well the pediatrician said...” “hm well that’s not what dr alberts book said to do” among other “first time mom”things

Can be incredibly anxious worrying about their child’s development and well being. She’s been around kids her entire life, but this is HER child? This one doesn’t go home at the end of the day? Everything has to be absolutely perfect

The most sentimental-would absolutely weep going through the baby box to pull out the teeny tiny booties and smelling the baby blanket - “they were just SO TINY- we need another one NOW.”

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Where Do I Fit? (Preath x Little!Reader)

Request: angsty little!reader with Tobin, where Tobin was rs caretaking fir way before Christen(like since college?) and they tell Christen but she isnt okay with it at first but accepts it by gettung r stuffies to apologise?

“It’s not like that Chris,” Tobin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her elbows rested on her knees. The two of you had been trying to explain this for a better part of an hour, and Christen still didn’t understand.

“Then tell me what it’s like Tobin, because from what you’ve said it sounds like your adult friend pretends to be a toddler, and you give her baths and feed her bottles. Do I need to continue? It’s some kinky shit-...” Christen said exasperated, frustratedly running fingers through her hair. How Tobin thought she would be ok with this? She was at a loss for words.

Tobin shook her head, blinking up at her girlfriend “It’s not sexual Christen. It just-“

“What, makes you feel good?” Christen spat, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

“Helps me deal with stress and anxiety, in a more positive way,” you mumbled, shifting anxiously on the couch next to Tobin, shivering at the glare Christen sent your way. You weren’t in love with Tobin, actually, you had a girlfriend of your own (who also happened to be little). Tobin was your safety blanket, and you just wished Christen could understand.

****

Tobin had been your mama since college. An arrangement that had been made after she found you curled up under your dorm room bed, so stressed you didn’t know what day it was much less what stuff you had to get done. Instead of running away, she had pulled you into her arms and rocked you until you were done crying.

After a little research and some explaining about why you regressed and how long it had been happening on your end, Tobin wholeheartedly embraced the role of Mama. And together you became more comfortable. She made you bottles and helped you keep track of school and soccer. As your best friend she decided it was her duty to protect you, and you were too fucking adorable when you were little to pass up.

Then your Mama started dating Christen, and after a few months of them being serious, it was decided that you had to tell Chris. That you could propose that she join in your little arrangement. You got along well with the woman, and she was pretty nurturing to you anyway (especially at national team camps) making sure you ate and didn’t stay up at all hours of the night with your girlfriend and the youngins.

****

Christen paused mid-pace, turning to look her girlfriend in the eye. “I don’t know how I feel about having a third person in our relationship Tobin,” She said calmly, crossing her arms.

“Baby, I promise you it’s not like that. Y/n may be my baby girl, but I’m not romantically attracted to her. She’s my best friend, and this helps her,” Tobin pleaded, begging for the woman she loved to understand. She didn’t want to lose her and she didn’t want to lose her baby girl. You were a very sensitive little, absolutely petrified of her getting bored and abandoning you one day. She had made so many promises, and she couldn’t bear the thought that she might have to break them.

“So what, she’ll call you whenever she’s little and you’ll just fucking drop everything to go ‘help’ her?” Christen’s eyebrow quirked up.

You frowned. You had been hoping that this conversation would end in you having another mommy, so technically you would be calling them, and you were always mindful of overstaying your welcome.

“I wouldn’t abuse that,” You huffed.

“But you can’t control when you're little or whatever right? As long as you’re involved in this thing, she will always come first, and that’s not a healthy relationship,” Christen asked viciously, turning her attention to you for the first time. You sunk into the couch, fighting the natural descent into little space that came with such looks. With looks only Moms could muster.

You opened your mouth to respond, only for Tobin to jump in first. “Babe, we’ll figure it out. I was act-”

“Well then, I’ll be back when you figure your priorities out,” Christen scoffed, grabbing her keys and her purse and slamming the door behind her.

Heavy silence stretched across Tobin’s apartment, both of you staring at the door.

You hadn’t been expecting things to be rainbows and butterflies, but you didn’t think it was going to come down to an ultimatum. Little you or the love of Tobin’s life. It wasn’t a fair choice, but you knew exactly what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt.

“I was afraid that would happen,” You sighed, staring at the door, gulping to try and stay big. Trying to force yourself to hold back the painful emotions that were rattling in your chest. Someone had to be the mature one. The realistic one.

“Y/n,” Tobin said softly, her voice ruff with unushered tears.

You shook your head, patting her knee, but never looking in her direction. If you did you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together anymore. You wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. You had promised yourself that you would never get in the way of her love life, and you were about to follow through on that. “It’s fine Tobin. I understand,”

“I love her,” Tobin said, sniffling, and you felt a little piece of your heart crack. Didn't Tobin love little you too? Just not enough. You swallowed hard, again pushing those feelings down. This wasn’t about you, and Tobin deserved to be happy.

“I know. Go after her, I know how to let myself out. I’ll go to Lindsey’s and text the group chat to see if anyone wants another little,” You shrugged. Lindsey could handle you and your girlfriend for the night, and the group chat was sure to be able to give you good advice, at least until you figured this whole thing out. They hadn’t let you down yet.

Tobin made a strangled sound at the mention of the group chat. At the idea that one of her friends could ever replace her as your mama. She knew that it was the logical next step (you and little Em were a handful on your own, together you were little terrors), but she couldn’t help the little twinge in her heart.

“I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her hand over yours and squeezing tightly. She hoped it could convey how badly she felt about this whole situation. She never thought Christen would react so badly.

You bit your lip, avoiding looking at your mama. “Don’t be. You were the best Mama ever. Now go,” You mumbled, kissing the back of her hand and shooing her towards the door. She didn’t even spare a glance in your direction as she left.

You stood from the couch, walking to the guest room that always served as your nursery. You collected your little things bag, Roary (you could never leave him behind), and your Batman blanket before heading towards the door. You paused in the doorway, turning to glance over the room one more time, allowing yourself to reminisce for just a second. How you wished this night had gone differently. You sighed, shaking your head and closing the door behind you. You would find a new caregiver, but Tobin would always be your mama.

****

You were miserable. Completely, totally and utterly miserable. Hovering somewhere between adult you and little you, curled up in the corner of Lindsey’s couch, staring listlessly into space. Even your girlfriend cuddled into your side, running race cars gently over your legs couldn't cheer you up, and Lindsey was starting to get worried.

“I don’t know what else to do, short of calling Tobin,” Lindsey said quietly, watching you from where her and Kelley were hovering by the door. It was one thing handling her little handful, and a complete other trying to take in both of you at the same time. She didn’t even know where to begin with you, hence why she called in reinforcements.

You had known Kelley and Alex for almost as long as you had known Tobin. You trusted them, and if anyone could get you out of your funk, your aunt Kelley could.

“You tried pudding?” Kelley asked, biting her lip. You were curled into the couch, Emily cuddled into your side, sending glances every now and then towards the stuffed triceratops you had left on the other couch. Pudding was little you’s favorite cheat food, and if that didn’t work she wasn’t sure what to do next. By now the entire team was aware of what was going on between you and Tobin, and none of them were surprised that little you wasn’t taking it so well.

“And ice cream, and hot pretzels and Mac and cheese. I even tried warm milk,” Lindsey nodded. She had seen you upset before, but never this bad. She was literally at her wits end, and Emily wasn’t even being her normally bratty self.

“Damn,” Kelley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. How Tobin was going to fix this mess she didn’t know and how she was going to aid your obviously miserable self she wasn’t sure either.

“Yeah, and she forbade me from calling Tobs,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Kelley’s shoulder. Kelley was known to have a magic touch with littles, but Lindsey was skeptical anyone besides your mama could pull you from this funk.

“From the text she sent the group chat I’m not surprised. I’ll see what I can do,” Kelley nodded, shooing Lindsey towards the kitchen to heat up some Mac and cheese. She would get you to eat something even if it killed her.

She slowly made her way over to you, gently patting Emily’s shin when she was close enough. “Hey Emmy, your mama wants to see you in the kitchen please,”

The blond little blinked up at her, big Emily suddenly very present in her eyes. She didn’t like how much pain you were in, but you both trusted Kelley. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Emily nodded once, seemingly satisfied that Kelley would help.

Emily leaned up and kissed your cheek before toddling off towards the kitchen. Maybe mama would get her a cookie.

Kelley took her spot, watching you carefully, as though you were a puzzle she was trying to solve. “How you holding up bug?”

You shrugged in response, tucking your legs tighter underneath you and crossing your arms.

“Not too good then huh?” Kelley filled in, scooting a little bit closer to you, taking a breath of relief when you didn’t curl into an impossibly tighter ball.

You nodded once. While big you understood why Tobin couldn’t be your mama, little you was devastated that she had chosen someone over you. That she didn’t love you anymore (big you knew this was just as hard for her).

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually hovered around 2 and a half or three when you were little, but this version of you was far smaller. Small enough for you to go nonverbal. The only person to see you this small was Tobin, and as far as Kelley knew the last time this had happened you were still in college.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Roary was telling me that his tummy was hurting. Does your tummy hurt?” She asked you softly, holding up your favorite stuffed triceratops and wiggling him in front of your face.

You shrugged again. Yeah your tummy was a little grumbly, but you were sad and all you wanted was for mama to scoop you up, but she couldn’t.

“I know you’re upset bug, but not eating isn’t going to make you or Roary feel better, ok? Aunt Lindsey made Mac and cheese and it’ll warm you up ok?” she tried again, nudging your cheek with Roary’s nose. You bit your lip in thought. You did love Mac and cheese, and you didn’t want Roary to turn into a grumpasaurus.

“Otay,” you mumbled, reaching for the defender (who despite her short stature was still an inch taller than you). She smiled tightly at you, handing you your stuffed Dino and picking you up to head towards the kitchen. At least they were getting you to eat.

*****

Christen sighed from her place on the couch next to Tobin, glaring at the cellphone that had gotten far more attention than she had tonight. All she wanted was a date night with her girlfriend, and Tobin had spent the whole thing glued to her phone, nervously biting her lip.

“Alright, who have you been texting all night?” Christen asked, pulling away from Tobin and wrapping the blanket tighter around her.

The midfielder turned forward blinked and sat back to look carefully at her girlfriend. “Lindsey,” Tobin said, biting her lip.

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up with Linds?”��

Tobin sighed. “Y/n went to stay with her until preseason starts. Emily’s there too and she wanted to hang out with her girlfriend,”

“So what, why has Lindsey been texting you?” Christen asked. She was usually good at following Tobin’s train of thought, but she was lost.

Tobin sighed again, shaking her head. “Y/n is having a really hard time, and I know you think it’s just some weird kink or something, but little Y/n doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t know what she did wrong and Lindsey needs some advice on how to handle her,”

Christen’s back straightened immediately at the mention of your name. She thought she had made her opinion clear. “How can you say that like Y/n is two people. Like she isn’t manipulating you into doing what she wants?” Christen said, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Tobin took a deep breath trying to figure out how to explain it. How to make her girlfriend understand that it was so much more than you pretending to be a kid for a little while. “Y/n isn’t two people, and she isn’t manipulating me. That’s evident considering she forbade Lindsey from calling me,” Tobin started calmly, picking at a stray thread on her pants. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words to explain it. “It’s not a sexual thing for her. It’s about trust. When y/n is little she doesn’t have to worry about everyday things, she can trust that I’ll take care of her. That no matter what happens, someone will be there to protect her. That no one will abandon her…” her voice cracked.

That’s exactly what she had done, isn’t it? Abandoned her best friend?.

Christen pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into her shoulder. It was hard to see Tobin this upset, even if she didn’t fully understand why.

“My relationship with her isn’t like the one I have with you. She loves Emily,” The words were muffled by Christen’s shoulder, but the forward heard them loud and clear.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She had done some research after Tobin had initially told her, but this was turning out to be way more complicated than the online forum suggested. If Emily was involved too, and you were dating her, then why did you need Tobin?

“Why can’t Emily be her mama?” She asked softly, honestly trying to understand this mess.

Tobin leaned back, wiping her eyes.

“Cause Emily’s little too and that would be dangerous. Lindsey takes care of Em like I take care of Y/n,”

Christen nodded as she took in the information. That made sense. If you couldn’t necessarily control being little, then it was possible you would both slip at the same time (or one could trigger the other). That did seem like a pretty bad idea for a long term solution.

But if Lindsey was there, then what was the problem?

“I just don’t understand how I fit into this whole thing,” Christen said after a few minutes, finally looking Tobin in the eyes, searching for the answer.

“You don’t have to deal with her when she’s little if you don’t want to. I just didn’t want to hide it from you,” Tobin shrugged, running a hand through her hair (the weight on her chest lifting just a bit now that Christen actually seemed to be willing to talk about this).

“If she’s here, I’m not just going to ignore her,” Christen scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Tobin’s lips ticked up just a bit. She wasn’t sure if Christen realized she had basically said you were going to be around, but Tobin was pleased with the new development. Maybe Christen just needed to logic it out a little bit more to become more open to the idea, but she wasn’t going to force her into something she wasn’t comfortable with.

“It’s still the Y/n you know, just a little bit more carefree. A little more silly and cuddly. You don’t have to be around her, but if you wanted to… she was gonna ask if you wanted to see what being a caretaker with me was like,” She said, leaning in and nudging under Christen’s chin with her nose.

Christen frowned, pouting a little, the real reason she had been so against the idea initially finally rolling from her lips. “She wasn’t trying to take you away from me-“

Tobin was shaking her head before Christen even finished her sentence. “No, she was trying to include you,”

You had been open to the idea of being little around Christen (hesitant, but open especially if it meant including the woman your mama was head over heels for.

The silence stretched between them for a few long seconds, broken only by Christen’s sigh.

“I fucked up,” She mumbled, pinching the space between her eyes, completely missing Tobin’s blinding smile.

“We fucked up, now let’s go fix it,” Tobin said, kissing her girlfriend’s cheeks and standing, extending her hand for the woman to take. They would make this right together.

*****

Kelley would say that you were tolerating dinner. You were reluctantly opening your mouth for the airplanes of Mac and Cheese she was sending your way, glancing longingly at Roary (who was eating his carrots in his very own seat across from you).

Lindsey had gotten up a few minutes ago to answer the door but had yet to return. That was why you were taking turns having Kelley feed you bites of dinner with Emmy.

Kelley lifted the next bite up to your lips, but you pulled your head away. “No tank you,”

Kelley sighed, leaning forward to make eye contact with you. “Baby, you’ve only had two bites. You need to eat a little more for me please,”

You rapidly shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to eat the stupid Mac and cheese. You wanted your mama to love you again, but she was off loving Christen.

“It otay, I eat Mac for you,” Emily said, patting your arm and placing a very sloppy kiss on your cheek. She didn’t like it when you were upset, and if she got more Mac and cheese out of it, then that was fine with her too.

Kelley glared at the younger defender. You didn’t need any more encouragement to not eat, especially when you were this fussy. “I don’t think it works like that Em”

She looked back into your direction(ignoring your girlfriend’s pout), making her voice soft and sympathetic “Come on Y/n, 5 more bites please,”

You whined loudly, shaking your head rapidly and kicking your feet a little in displeasure. The tears were now falling heavily down your very red face. “No want it!!”

“Alright bug,” Kelley murmured, pulling you into her lap, and letting you cry it out. You buried your face in her shoulder, heartbreaking sobs wracking through you. Kelley rubbed circles into your back, and carded her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. When that didn’t work, she carefully transferred you into a very familiar lap.

*****

You clung to Tobin as though your life depended on it, fisting her sweatshirt like you thought she would disappear at any second. You probably thought she would, Christen noted.

It was truly a pitiful sight so see, and each little sob from your lips was like a knife in Christen’s chest. She hadn’t known what to expect when Lindsey said you were taking it hard, but it most certainly wasn’t this. It made her apology gift seem incredibly inadequate.

“No babydoll, I’m never leaving you again. I promise,” Tobin said into your hair, rocking you to try and ease the wave of tears streaming down your cheeks.

“But you wove Christen,” You said, though your voice was muffled by Tobin’s shoulder and your tears, Christen heard the words loud and clear. She shared a look with Tobin over your head, and she knew that she was the only one who could fix this mess.

She knelt down next to you, carefully rubbing your back, encouraging you to look at her. You obliged, rubbing your bloodshot eyes as you pulled away from Tobin.

“Tobin can love both of us darling, and I see that now. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that before, but if you’re willing, I’d like to try helping your mama take care of you when you’re little,” She said softly.

“No make me go bye bye?” You asked, sniffling.

“No little one,” Christen reassured, bringing her thumb up to while away a stray tear. “No I brought a friend, but they don’t have a name yet. Do you think you can help me out?” She said, holding up the stuffed dragon they had picked up for you as an apology.

You gently grabbed the purple stuffie, holding him very close to your nose, and examining him carefully. “Spike wants ta know if we go home?” You said after a few seconds, poking your tongue out the side of your mouth. Christen and Tobin laughed lightly at your expression.

“Yeah, let’s go home,”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #preath x reader #preath imagine

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asmolboy · 3 years ago

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OK but what if Kokichi trusted Shuichi enough to in secret tell him his plan and they worked together? + saiouma platonic or romantic is your preference

After Kaede's execution Shuichi is stunned and torn apart. He has Kaito still but a sense of safety is gone and desperation starts to set in, can he even trust Kaito? Who can he trust?

Then Kokichi goes to him when it is late and most are asleep or otherwise not looking to them, "want to help me stop this killing game?" Kokichi asks him his voice low and calm, calculating even. "what?" Shuichi looks at him shocked who was this new person? Kokichi takes him aside to a completely private area.

"I have a plan to end this killing game. I need help and Kaito isn't going to do jack shit to help in the slightest because of his hero complex and everyone else is sketchy right now." he continues to explain but Shuichi silences him, "how can I help?"

And so their alliance began, they would help each other and watch out for each other behind the scenes while pretending to hate each other. It is so far perfect and going smoothly. As more deaths go on and happen Kokichi starts amping up his villian persona more and more in an attempt to hide his true feelings. The lies get bigger, more risky and more insane to the point that Miu decides to try kill him.

Of course he saw through it and tells Shuichi the next time they meet that night. "Miu is going to try and kill me. I might not be able to execute my plan to manipulate another into killing her before she kills me." Shuichi nods listening closely and looking around cautiously, "if that ends up happening I want you to do the plan on your own-" "wait what?!?" he screams before both he and Kokichi slap a hand or two on his mouth shushing him.

"I know it's bat shit insane I get it but it'll be our only option if I die. I hate that it might come to that but please do it if it happens OK?" he uncovers Shuichi's mouth who only nods a bit silently.

Kokichi ends up being able to convince someone to kill Miu and goes full villian persona scaring everyone extremely expect Shuichi who was expecting it. As it continues on Shuichi ends up putting himself more and more into the plan now that Kokichi is full villian and everyone at that point trusts him.

By the time that Maki tries to kill Kokichi tho Shuichi breaks the plan running at full speed to shield him taking hold of him, "please don't kill him!" he screams at her holding Kokichi close despite the poison going through his veins. "Saihara what the fuck is this?! I thought you hated him more than anyone else here!" Maki is shocked and Kaito runs to get an antidote, Shuichi smiles laughing a bit mirroring Kokichi.

"it's a lie!"

It doesn't take long for the last part of the falling apart plan Kokichi gets him successfully to the location where Kokichi would die but Shuichi is starting to resist against it refusing to kill him. “Shumai. I know this is going to be hard for you but listen we’ll be able to save everyone else from this living nightmare.” Shuichi starts breaking down crying, “but-but Mochi that’ll mean I’d loose you. Like I did Kaede I'll be all alone you're the only one here I can trust and-and..." Kokichi pulls him into a hug holding him close, "you won't be alone Shumai. It's not like Kaede's death she made a mistake and died while being full of despair. I am actively doing this for the rest of the group."

As they talk trying to work off the nerves they don't know that someone else is listening. Quickly Kiibo goes and gets the remaining members of the class as Kokichi is on the hydraulic press. Kaito restrains Shuichi with little effort from pressing the button to activate it Shuichi just letting it happen being highly distressed by having to do the action via the plan.

Kokichi is also restrained and put into a separate room as they start interrogating Shuichi who clams up refusing to speak. In guilt or fear they can't tell. When Kaito mentions asking Kokichi Shuichi snaps out begging them not to hurt him breaking down more in extreme distress trying to get out of the binds they put on him to keep him from attacking them.

The begging is loud enough for Kokichi to hear and be motivated to try and help him getting out of his own binds and running to get to Shuichi. Freeing him and holding him close to his chest as they both cry Kokichi telling Shuichi calm comforting things in his and collected voice.

"I don't want to do the plan any more Mochi I-I can't do it..." "I know Shumai I shouldn't of pushed your limits I'm sorry." he runs his hand through his hair petting his back, "I can't-I can't loose you... Kokichi I can't...." he wheezes in panicked breathes, "Shuichi look at me I'm still here. It didn't work out. Please breath it's all OK."

The rest of the group is stunned silent as they do this Kiibo even finding it most appropriate to leave deeming it more of a private matter. Once Shuichi is calmed down he still refuses to explain what they were fully planning as to not wanting to betray Kokichi’s trust and also showing where his loyalty is in a way to them all. Most of the class is shocked or appears to be betrayed.

“Shumai you can just tell them. Remember what I told you.” Kokichi sighed putting a hand Shuichi’s shoulder “Go with the majority it’s safer” "exactly so please just once go against someone you care for."

Shuichi explains their plan as Kokichi leaves smiling weakly. Shuichi doesn't notice at first but when he's done explaining he notices and suddenly has the object permanence of a toddler as he freaks out running around in a attempt to find him before he does something rash. Kaito follows him trying to help him find Kokichi but they both don't succeed leaving Shuichi to call out to Kokichi with every name and nickname they have for each other in a slightly begging way even.

He passes out from the strain on his body and mind. By the time he wakes up his mind has cut out the whole day's events and is only confused by Kokichi or Kaito not being there to wake him up or greet him. When he asks Kiibo what is up with them Kiibo can't exactly tell him as he was forbidden from doing so by everyone else. Shuichi doesn't stop going to Himiko and Maki asking them but they seem hesitant when they say that they are just hanging out somewhere.

He ends up finding out that he can't seem to find Tsumugi to ask her if she knows and Himiko ends up snapping telling him that Kaito and Kokichi continued the plan and did indeed find the master mind. At the cost of their lives. The news hits Shuichi like a bus as the rest of them try to comfort him now knowing how close he was to both of them.

He can't take it and runs to where they planned to let Kokichi die and sees that it wasn't a lie. He was dead, gone. As Shuichi goes to it he finds Kokichi's scarf and a small note.

"Sorry I had to leave you behind. Don't forget about me my beloved Shumai. - your supreme leader Mochi"

Hope yall liked this

#saiouma #angst writing #angsty #what if #dangonronpa #dr v3 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #alternate ending

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 4 years ago

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Adopting Bangtan 03

01, 02

Jeon Jungkook, age 3

At five o’clock in the morning, there are very few things you expect to happen during your five-minute wait for the coffee maker to heat and brew your coffee. None of them is the doorbell ringing.

Actually, you have all of zero expectations at five o’clock in the morning except to drink you coffee and maybe get mad that you didn’t put in enough sugar because you hate the taste of bitter and death and --

Right. It’s five in the morning and your doorbell has rung twice now. You’re wondering, if you continue to ignore it, will the person at the door wander off and bug someone else? It’s unusual enough that someone is ringing the bell in the first place, the least they could have done was ring it at a decent hour. Or waited ten minutes for you to get your coffee and become a human again.

Oh. Doorbell’s rung three times now. At least, the coffee maker has started trickling and the lovely, blessed aroma of caffeine and life is reanimating you into something less of a zombie. Now you’re wondering who in the ever-loving hell decided five in the morning is a good time to visit. On the way to the door, you made sure to zip the sweater you pulled on over your pajamas up to the neck and consider if it’s gotten cold enough to start turning the heat on yet. You peek out of the window, but don’t see anything. Just in case your vantage isn’t wide enough, you open the front door --

-- and find a baby.

Well. Baby might be a slight exaggeration. It’s a slight child, bundled in a coat and two quilts. It was a toddler, no older than two or three, with short hair that told you it was a boy, and he was laid out, asleep across your doorstep. You blinked down at the child, then glanced around. There isn’t anyone in your immediate sight, so you carefully step over the sleeping child to check further up the street than standing in your front door will allow. Still, you saw no one, and you were left with a strange child you knew on your doorstep. You frown down at him, annoyed. It isn’t the child’s fault, you know this, but it still feels like part of your day just got ruined.

You aren’t keeping this one. He’s too small and he’ll be too needy and you just you can’t do it. Namjoon and Yoongi are enough, and they practically take care of themselves. With them, all you have to do is just make sure they’re safe and happy, they handle the rest. However, a toddler on the other hand will need constant supervision and constant stimulation and you’ll have to baby-proof the house, which sounds like a whole nightmare. This child, this baby was only coming inside long enough for you to drink your coffee, eat your toast, and put on proper pants before you report his abandonment to the police.

“Are you adopting another kid?” Yoongi asks quietly. You jump, you could swear the kid moved like a ninja. You’ve put a bell on him more than once and it doesn’t even ring.

“We have a new brother?!” Namjoon shouts from across the apartment. He runs from the bedroom, practically jumping on to the sofa where you placed the sleeping kid while you ate. “Hey, little guy! I’m Namjoonie-hyung. What’s your name?”

“The kid’s asleep,” you tell him. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you?” They won’t need to get dressed for school for another two hours. That should have been plenty of time for you to put clothes on and run the toddler to the closest precinct and return with your boys’ breakfast.

“No, he’s awake,” says Namjoon.

“We heard the doorbell,” answers Yoongi at the same time.

“Hey, don’t be scared, my name’s Namjoon,” your first kid is grinning at the child with his dimples and the gentle voice he reserves for the animals at the park and it’s breaking your heart because you aren’t keeping the baby.

“Was he why the doorbell was ringing?” Yoongi asked quietly. He was pulling two mugs from the cabinet with a sort of nonchalance that you almost let him get away with.

“My name is Jungkook,” a tiny voice replies to Namjoon. He speaks with a small lisp, like a lot of small children, and with a hint of sadness. You try not to let that bother you. The small one is not your responsibility.

“Yep,” you answer Yoongi. You take the cup of coffee he offers you and put the second, still empty mugh back into the cabinet. Yoongi pouts, but doesn’t argue any further; this is a reoccurring battle in the morning, one you will reluctantly admit to losing at least once a week. You enjoy the smell of the hot beverage, as you listen to Namjoon chatter away at the kid on your couch. You can hear how attached he’s already become. It’s going to break your heart when you tell him that no, he is not getting a little brother.

“Do you want me to distract him while you take the little one away?” Yoongi’s voice is just above a whisper. The look on his face is disturbingly stoic for an eight-year-old, but over the last few months you’ve learned a few of his tells. He isn’t happy. Upon further scrutiny, you realize that he also wants to keep the kid.

“You’re upset with me,” you say instead.

“It’s the smarter choice,” he shrugs at you, but once you figured out that he wants you to keep the kid, it was easy to tell why. He knows you have the ability, the resources to take care of another child. It bothers him that you’re rejecting the kid -- Jungkook -- simply because you have the choice. If you don’t want Jungkook, can you decide that you don’t want Yoongi either? What if you eventually reject Namjoon too?

You take a few sips of coffee, eyes turned heavenwards. These kids are going to kill you. They really will. They’re already blatantly and successfully manipulating you and they aren’t even ten-years-old yet.

“Toddlers are a lot of work, Yoongi,” you say. “I have the money to take care of all three of you, but I don’t have the time.”

“Joonie and I can take care of him then,” he shrugs. He’s filling the kettle with water and taking down two more mugs, one for himself and one for Namjoon. You begin to fill two filters with tea leaves. Yoongi scowls again, but doesn’t outright object, so you take that as your one win for the day. Because clearly, you aren’t winning anything else today.

“It’s not that easy,” you grab your coffee mug again. It’s so warm and the house is so cold and you are so not ready for this discussion. Or anything, really.

“Why not?” “You and Namjoon, have school, Yoongi. And I have to work. He can’t stay home by himself. What am I supposed to do with a toddler?”

“You say that like you can’t hire a babysitter,” Yoongi rolls his eyes “Or find a daycare.” You stop sniffing at your coffee, stop enjoying the feel and smell of life, intelligence, patience, joy and stare at your kid. He stares back at you, but the nibbling of his lip tells you that he’s acknowledging what he’s said and exactly why a daycare will not be anything you ever consider. You don’t trust strangers with your children, and it’s for that exact reason why a babysitter will be hard to come across too. Yoongi sighs, and you know that’s all the verbal acknowledgement you’ll receive.

“This is our caretaker,” Namjoon is carrying the toddler into the kitchen now. Jungkook is free of his coat, blankets, and shoes, and Namjoon sits him at the kitchen table. Another mug comes out of the kitchen cabinet, this one immediately filled with milk and placed in front of the kid. He’s as small as you thought he would be, wearing jeans and a sweater that seem to swallow him whole. His eyes are as big as his whole face and they dart around, taking in the new room. Namjoon tells the kid your name and introduces Yoongi as his older brother and the whole thing is just so heart-warming and sweet that you literally can’t anymore. You down the rest of your coffee and pour a second. It’s unusual for you, to drink a second cup of coffee this soon, but you’re going to need all of the brain power you can get to figure out how exactly to make this work.

“You know what? I don’t want toast anymore. You boys want to go to the Ahjumma’s restaurant this morning or to our favorite Ahjussi’s?”

“Oh! Can you bring us bread from that one store?” asks Namjoon. He’s practically bouncing in his chair, and the enthusiasm is apparently contagious.

“With fruit salad?” Yoongi requests. He managed to sneak in a cup of coffee in the end, pouring it while you were watching Namjoon with Jungkook, distracted with your thoughts.

“We were supposed to be going out together, but hey, save me a few won, I guess.”

“I think Areum-noona might be looking for another job,” Yoongi mentions as you pass.

Your only response is to blow him a raspberry.

04, 05, 06, 07

#bts #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #bangtan #kid bts #because this will be a thing #bts ARMY #jungkook fan fiction #no regrets #cross posted on ao3 #DarkBalance #collecting strays

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whump-town · 4 years ago

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Will You Take Me Home?

Here is some heart-warming fluff to make up for what I did with the cancer fic. I would do it again so I’m not sorry but I do feel remorse for hurting you

Word Count: 5055

Retired Hotch’s Birthday

The normal temperature of the room outside his nest of throw-blankets and heating pad causes goosebumps to break out over his exposed arm. He groans, not even bothering to check the caller ID as he puts his phone to his ear and answers “Aaron Hotchner”. His voice has taken on the gravel of disuse, fogged by the painkiller-induced nap he’d accidentally fallen into. If he was following his doctor’s orders, that wouldn’t happen. His body would have acclimated to the drugs and the pain wouldn’t leave him so exhausted that he can hardly keep his eyes open when it dulls to throbs. Which, he’s not aware of just yet, but is the very nature of this call: his detrimental habits.

“Sleeping beauty,” the other person greets and he leans back against the pillows behind him, rolling his eyes. The phone rustles and Hotch shakes his head as he hears the faint scratching and rustling of keys at his door. “I knocked four times,” he’s informed. “I was starting to think--” the door comes free and Hotch doesn’t even look up. “I thought I was going to find you dead in here.” The call ends and from the other side of the couch, he hears, “which, by the way, would be a hell of a thing, you know? Dead on your own birthday.” He closes his eyes but feels the cushions get pushed down, the telltale sign she’s leaning over the back of the cushion overtop him. “Speaking of which,” she beams. “Happy Birthday, old man.”

He looks up at her, taking in the full effect of mischief he could only hear before. The expressive lines of her smile spread across her face and it’s a distinct moment when all he can think about is how truly awful things had been between them at the beginning. How mean he was, really, because it wasn’t her. It was his own inability to trust. Yet, here she is before noon on his sixtieth birthday leaning over his couch and no doubt about to start a pot of coffee that she’ll consume over three-fourths of. Suppressing the smile tugging at his own lips, he raises a more important matter at hand. Far more pressing than why it is that she’s letting herself into his home. “How long until they come?”

Retired doesn’t mean born yesterday (whatever the opposite of that is, really). He’s not around the office anymore but given Garcia’s questioning last month of his favorite cake flavor, Dave’s inquiry into his schedule for this week, and Emily’s early arrival he knows exactly what they’re doing. To her credit, Emily pretends she doesn’t and she might be more convincing if he didn’t know every tell she’s had for the last two decades.

“Who?” she asks. “How long until who comes?” He just looks at her. A stand-off, really, to see who caves first. They’re assholes so this could go on forever and if she were looking for the thrill of watching him break and she would press on. She cracks but not because he’s better at this game, just because she’s excited. “You have an hour. I’ve been sent to get you ready so you’re not a crabby old bastard when they arrive.”

He groans, sinking back into the couch and pulling his blanket up over his head. Effectively locking her out. Well... not really. She just leans further over him, not caring when he grunts tries to burrow farther away. “Come on,” she shakes his shoulders. “Aren’t you the least bit excited? Penny made you those cookies you like and Derek is bringing Hank, who, I might add, is very excited to see Hops.” And she’s only buttering him up because-- “I’m not supposed to tell you this because it’s a huge surprise but Dave left this morning to go pick up Jack. He’ll--” she can’t even get it out. He peaks out, just the top of his head so he can narrow his eyes at her. To see if she’s just fucking with him, using his feelings against him but he sees only sincerity. She grins, she knows she’s won. “So up and at ‘em old-timer! You’ve got a gaggle of people to entertain!”

Old-timer? He’s four years older than she is. That’s not what he comments on. “Gaggle?” he repeats back to her, grunting as his knees protest his standing. “Really showing your age there,” he mumbles and steps out of the way of the pillow she throws at his head. “What?” he defends. “You said it, not me.” He shakes his head, heading back to his room and leaving her to entertain herself. Which she will and he can hear her rustling around the coffee machine. Nearly surprised that she doesn’t complain he still hasn’t set up the Keurig she got him for Christmas (which they are rapidly approaching him having owned now for a year).

Though he isn’t sure how to express it anymore, he’s excited to have them here. Even if he knows that it will get overwhelming, he can’t deny that the night will end far too soon and he’ll find himself missing them all over again. But that’s not what’s important. In an hour (less than that knowing Penelope and her strict party-throwing agendas) he’ll have them all right here. Reid with his never-ending knowledge, quizzing him on the book recommendations that Hotch has been slowly working his way through. With Derek and Savannah and Hank, the latter of which can’t pronounce Hotch and it makes his heart do a funny little thing when the toddler sees him and screams in pure delight “Hops!”

JJ will pour in with Henry and it’ll be like old times watching Henry and Jack slunk off together (and they all pretend like they don’t know they’re smoking pot in the backyard). Emily and Dave force him to mediate the same four fights that they always have and then they’ll stick around long after the others have gone home to talk about whatever comes to their minds.

And Penelope.

His house is about to be flooded with baked goods and meals in containers because despite being alive as long as he has, she denies the notion he can feed himself. She’ll organize them in specific ways and each will be labeled in her neat handwriting so he can tell what’s in each. Most of them will be vegetarian because she’s worried about his cholesterol (and the environment) and a few will be spicy and chicken will make its way into a few of the dishes. He’ll thank her and kiss her cheek and she’ll remind him like she always does, that all he has to do is ask. He won’t but he does appreciate how much she cares. As smothering as it can be.

He showers quickly, giddy in a strange way to get out and be properly ready when the others arrive. Not too quickly, the last thing he needs is to bust his ass while Emily is here. She is far too comfortable with herself and with him and he knows that she will come in here if she hears him. The other thing about that woman is that she might have a distaste for constantly being touched but she can put that aside to annoy him. Which has created this weird mind-game thing he knows he’s losing when he doesn’t even notice her encroaching on his personal space.

Everything is a battle with her.

He decides to save himself the trouble of being bullied and searches through his dresser for a pair of jeans. He owns maybe two pairs of jeans both purchased forever ago and just to help him fit in with the parents at Jack’s school during field trips and soccer games. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he was a kid and he knows he still does but he won’t be the reason Jack gets weird looks. Emily had raised an eyebrow at that (why he had even divulged this to her is beyond him) so evidently it didn’t really do the trick but Dave assures him he looks fine and Garcia thinks he looks like a DILF so… he’s fairly certain that’s good. He’s not really sure what that means but he’s learned it’s better not to ask her to clarify.

Emily is fixing the couch when he comes out, the apartment filled with the scent of the coffee she’s brewed while he was showering. “You’re going to burn the house down with this thing,” she tells him. She holds up his heated blanket as it offends her. “You need to go to the doctor, there has to be something they can do.”

What surprises him isn’t her apparent anger-- with Emily, it’s a diversion. Her anger is rarely that, it’s to distract, and right now he knows he’s to perceive her anger and not the way she fears for him. The way that she can’t say “I love you” like the others but can, instead, be outraged that his body has been working against him for so many years. She’s not angry at him for needing to be tucked up in that blanket all the time, she’s afraid of a vascular issue that might kill him or that he’ll leave untreated until they’re all being reunited at the closest general hospital. Waiting for a doctor to tell them that he waited too long or that his heart can’t handle another surgery or a million other things.

He takes the blanket from her, clumsily folding it over and tucking the cords into the folds. “I have gone to the doctor,” he assures her. Not for that specifically but he did bring it up. He leaves it at that for now and she understands that means maybe later. It’s not worth getting into and he doesn’t feel like thinking about George Foyet and his knife today.

“Hey,” Emily hums, smirking at him. “Your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

He stops dead in his tracks, frowning as he looks back at her but just as he’s about to inquire what, no doubt, awful thing she’s done to make her feel the need to compliment him to compensate for it, the apartment door opens. They both turn to the noise and Garcia steps in and freezes when she notices the two of them standing there.

Looking at the bags full of things she has in her arms and then to Emily and then to Hotch she sheepishly smiles. “Happy Birthday?”

With a sigh, having accepted this defeat a while ago, Hotch steps to help her with bags. He tries to hide his amusement but he cuts Emily a glance, three bags in his left hand and more still coming, and he can’t help it. Garcia turns back just as the smile eats its way up his face and he shakes his head. For a split second, he can see her apprehension, the way that her fear of going overboard or embarrassing herself washes over her before she carefully masks it (and to think he gets all the shit about masking). “Thank you,” he whispers so sincerely that he has to avert his eyes. Adding softly, “you know, you’re the only person who ever cares to make me celebrate it?”

Which just makes her sad. “Sir,” she whispers frowning. “You deserve the world, do you know that?”

He blushes, shaking his head, but he can’t get the words out in his shock.

“Oh,” she tsks. She stands on her toes and pulls him down so she can wrap her arms around him. “I love you.”

Emily makes a sound of disgust behind them and he’s glad for the distraction before all this undue attention gives him a heart attack. “Bleh,” Emily rolls her eyes. But she brightens when she sees the red Tupperware container holding the cookies. “Are those the--”

Garcia sees Emily zero in on them and hands them right to Hotch, holding them to his chest. “Are not for you,” she says to Emily with a nod of her head.

So Emily just looks to Hotch and he passes them to her with a shrug and weakly defends, “they’ll go stale if she doesn’t eat half of them.” They’re his birthday cookies but she’ll get her hands on them anyway. If not today then the next time she lets herself in. If not her then Reid when he gets bored and wanders over here for entertainment. If not Reid then Dave then Derek… you get the point. He’ll never finish them on his own.

Garcia lets it go because she knows that’s how he is and because she has a crapload of other things to make sure he eats. He leaves her to mess with his fridge, it’s better to let her do her thing. She’ll move his almond milk to the side door because that’s its proper place (even though he’ll move it right back) and come in about five to ten minutes to fuss with him about a specific something she notices he’s lacking. Today it will be the complete lack of breakfast foods in this house when she knows for a fact that his doctors are giving him hell about eating more than once a day.

He’ll have no excuse, never does, but she won’t give him a chance to provide it either way.

Reid arrives next and actually knocks and waits for someone to let him in, something none of the others will do. He sheepishly offers Hotch the books he’s artfully wrapped in a newspaper and Hotch ignores it for a moment to hug him. If they don’t do it now Reid will just wait in anxious anticipation for it because he knows it’s what people do and he likes being hugged by Hotch but he doesn’t know how to initiate it himself.

“The Sultan of Brunei spent $27.2 million on his 50th birthday,” Reid tells him as soon as Hotch lets him go. “Michael Jackson was there,” he says with a nod. And Hotch smiles and listens to him anxiously work his way around the point that he’s trying to make. Which is that by the standards of the Sultan of Brunei, this party will be exceptionally small and quiet… the way Hotch would want it to be.

They are still standing at the door, talking about what the act of giving a card means. The way that the stories get warped and it thrills Reid to slide the pieces of that puzzle together through-out various cultural ideals until you have them. And that America has a very strange, above-average affinity for birthday cards.

Derek nearly hits Reid with the door when he comes in. Too distracted with a squirming Hank on his hip and Savannah behind him fussing with him for not knocking. He brightens the second he places his eyes on the two of them, a face that Hank matches perfectly upon seeing his favorite people.

“Weed!” the toddler greets throwing himself into his godfather’s arms. Reid takes him happily, laughing at how tightly Hank holds onto him. He just loves that Hank never gets tired of him. He could still see Hank every day for a month and Hank would still greet him with the same enthusiasm as the first day.

Derek is kicking his shoes off, offering Savannah his hand so she can do the same when he notices Hank still excitedly talking to Reid. That’s by all means not abnormal but-- “Hey,” Derek mumbles Hank. He nods his head to Hotch who is standing watching Reid and Hank with a bright, wide smile. “Don’t you have something for Hops?”

Reid puts Hank down before the toddler can start to squirm and Hank immediately glues himself to Hotch’s leg. No one knows why it’s just what Hank likes to do but not just, in general, he only does it to Hotch. He stands for a few seconds, both arms wrapped around one of Hotch’s legs, face pressed into the material of his jeans, and Hotch stands still to allow him to do it. Hops is a nickname he has no control over, the same way that Reid doesn’t fight that he’s been “Weed” now since Jack was two and stumbling over his name.

Hotch got off easy. When Henry was younger he just sort of kept his distance from Hotch. Hank… just really loves him.

“Is that a hot wheel?” Hotch asks softly when Hank finally peels himself away enough to offer the bright toy clutched in his hands. Hank beams up at him and stretches to hold it higher, trying to get Hotch to take it. “Oh wow,” Hotch gasps, shaking his head and pretending to just be so impressed by this toy so severely dwarfed in his hand. “Do you know what colors these are?”

Derek holds his hand out for Savannah to take and guides her through the house. Moving them to the kitchen to talk with Garcia and Emily knowing that he won’t be getting his son back this afternoon. Both because Hank won’t want to leave Hotch or Reid’s side and because Hotch and Reid won’t want him to leave. The Hotwheels was entirely Hank, they spent twenty minutes finding the perfect one when all Derek needed from the store was stain. Though they all agreed to no presents because Hotch would already hate them invading his home with cake, they all got him presents.

The others all got him books because that’s what they know he likes and he really does love to receive books. They’re fun entertainment and they all say something about how not only they perceive him but also the sorts of things that they like and he… well, he loves that.

Derek built him a new bookshelf. It’s sitting in the back of the truck and he’s waiting on Will to get here to drag the thing in here. Derek had noticed two weekends ago that one of the shelves Hotch uses in the hall was bowing under the weight of the books on it so he’d made something to replace it. Thin but heavy-duty-- he’d considered all the ins and outs of the current shelf. Things he didn’t like about it until he has a higher shelf that doesn’t stick out so obscenely.

Which doesn’t matter, really, Hotch will love it either way.

Hank keeps “Hops” distracted while the others pull dinner together. Emily is set to ice the cake but she’s awful and she’s sent to sit in the living room with the other three. Hotch is sitting in the recliner, Hank sitting on his knees and telling him about what he did in preschool this week while Reid pokes through the bookshelf Hotch keeps by the door.

JJ knocks as she comes in but still lets herself in. Henry is bummed to see Jack isn’t here yet but he’s quickly distracted and swept right back out the door to help his father and Derek move the bookshelf into the house. They don’t really need Henry’s help but it’s an effective way to ensure Hotch doesn’t try to help. Not because he can’t but because… he’s old and they don’t want to break him.

They’re just buying time, anyway, until Jack and Dave get here.

With them comes the party…

Hotch only puts Hank down to hug Jack, biting down his tears when he realizes that his son now stands just as tall as he is. Probably bound to be taller. He’s grown out his blonde hair in college and just as Hotch is opening his mouth to ask about school, how seeking out that Master’s Degree is treating him, he spots--

“A puppy!” Hank shouts.

Jack smiles timidly, stepping back to show his father the dog still held back by Dave’s hold on her collar. “Her name is Scout!” Jack kneels down, beaming up at his father while the thrilled puppy licks his face. “Do you get it?”

Oh, he gets it alright. Emily had snitched him out two weeks ago (to his own son, of all people) and admitted she was a little worried. He still doesn’t think there was ground for her fears. It’s not abnormal for him to shut himself out and if his therapist doesn’t think he’s any crazier than normal then that should mean he’s fine. At least, that’s how Hotch feels about it. That’s ignoring the way that everyone else feels. Which is that he’s visibly more on the edge and jumpy. That he gets irritated in public spaces and his anxiety is getting worse despite starting therapy and medicine he swears is helping.

Jack had done his best to get through to his father but sometimes Hotch makes those conversations like talking to a brick wall. That conversation had ended rather badly, honestly. Jack had yelled, shouting mindlessly that he’s twenty-five and he’s too young to have to be taking care of Hotch like this. Too young to have to fear that each day he’ll receive that phone call and the crazy thing is that Jack wouldn’t even be surprised-- everything about Hotch’s life is damning proof to the fact that he acts impulsively, reckless, and without care to his own well-being.

Jack had called later and he’d apologized, they both had. It had been careless on Jack’s behalf, Jessica had explained to him at sixteen some delicate things about his father. He’d come to understand just what it means for everyone around Hotch to love him. The way that his mother had tried to stifle that urge in his father and Jessica and Dave and Emily and Derek and everyone who has ever loved a man like Aaron Hotchner has tried to walk him back off that ledge. But it’s as if he was born there and you can move him but you can’t take that fundamental calling away. Can’t wash his darkness away.

Jack had spent his entire childhood likening the characters around him to his father, just pulling at strings to understand the man. Sometimes he’d earn himself a smile and other times a grunt. He’d bring his father the books or replay scenes in movies all to just see his reactions to know if the man he sees his father as is the same one Hotch sees himself as.

Freshman year of high school they’d read To Kill A Mockingbird and he’d thought his father to be a man like Atticus Finch. In many ways, he is but he keeps coming back to that book. Until during that heavily apologetic phone call, Jack had laughed and realized his father might be a bit like Atticus Finch but he’s a Boo Radley. The recluse that always represents unwavering good.

Hence Scout.

What had driven Boo Radley from his home? Little Scout Finch.

He lets them into the house, not really sure what to say. “You know,” Hotch mumbles, shaking his head. He watches the puppy eagerly work her way around the others. Snaking between legs and nearly knocking Hank over in her excitement but the boy is around enough dogs to only laugh harder. “You could have just got me a… gym membership of something.”

Derek huffs at that and now, he’s sitting in his living room watching his closest friends snickering at his son’s clever book reference. With a sigh, he leans down and offers his hand to the puppy, frowning when her first instinct is to lick him. “Hi, Scout.”

Jack squats down, petting Scout while she continues basking in Hotch’s attention. “You don’t go to the gym, dad.” Jack rubs behind her ears, smiling when Scout doesn’t divert her attention from Hotch. She’s zeroed in on him and he’s fairly content with that. “Besides I got Scout from that program that they run in Richmond.” There’s this dog training thing they do down there that his friend actually works at. Scout failed her training-- as it turns out she’s a bit of a reject. They’d tried to start her out as a service dog but she’d been too smart for that too. Too eager.

Hotch raises an eyebrow at that, not liking the sound of what he thinks is happening. Those dogs are expensive and it’s already enough that she’s a German Shephard. “What do you mean?”

Jack glances at Dave, “well…”

Dave steps up and soothes it out. “I made some calls and Jack’s friend helped us out. Scout is a reject from two academies, a failed service dog and from the police dog academy in Richmond. So she’s too smart for them to just send anywhere.”

Great, Hotch thinks.

“It’s perfect,” Emily snickers. “Hotch loves to take care of things and now he’s essentially got a toddler again.”

“She is potty trained,” Jack offers quickly.

But Emily is right and the idea is brilliant. Hotch does like to take care of things and having Scout will prompt him to start taking walks in the morning again. It might help him implement a strict eating routine, place him in the kitchen to feed her. He won’t go do things for himself but he will take her to the dog park and sit there until she’s tired. Throw balls for her to retrieve and (what had been the killing stone) is that she’s far too smart for her own good. She’s got other training. Senses anxiety and depression and is very protective.

Hotch frowns down at Scout, she’s placed her head on his knee watching him as he takes this in. Hank is leaned up against her side, fingers trailing through her short fur, and she’s entirely unbothered by it. She’s only worried about Hotch and Hotch is worried about her. He’s never had a pet before. Jack had a goldfish he fed occasionally but… there’s no way that counts.

“Thank you,” he says softly, rubbing at his fingers anxiously and frowning when Scout smacks his hand with her nose. He sighs and puts his hand on her head, scratching like he thinks she wants. Too distracted to note what she’s effortlessly just done. Put off by her clinginess, he’s not even thinking about the curling hot ball of nerves in his stomach. His mind does wander but she nudges him again and he sighs and keeps patting her head.

Dinner goes well and Scout and Hank are glued to his sides. Hank to his left feeding him chips and Scout green beans which Hotch sees and chooses to ignore. Her immediate allegiance to him is a little strange, she’s not too bothered with Garcia or Derek no matter how hard he tries to win her over (feeding her green beans just like his son). Scout does like Hank, Henry, Jack, and Reid. She takes to them like it’s nothing. She’ll go from ignoring Derek’s attempts to get her to sit to trot right over to Reid and lay over his feet.

Hotch does enjoy that, it’s funny.

They funnel out slowly after eight. Hank has already fallen asleep in Hotch’s arms and Savannah has to wipe his tears up and shush him back to hazy contentment with the promise he’ll see Hops soon. Derek will probably be over in a day or two to make sure that the shelf is holding up well and to transfer the books and he’ll bring Hank along to distract Hotch to do it.

JJ and Will trickle out not too long after. Henry and Jack conspire together to get Dave to take them for ice cream and he caves-- Jack promises to text him before he falls asleep to tell him where he landed for the night.

Garcia takes Reid home, won’t let him take the subway back at this hour and Hotch doesn’t even have to ask they just know to text him when they get home safe. He promises to eat the food Garcia left and she already has the date in which he should run out marked on her calendar. She’ll give him a week to bring back the Tupperware before coming over here herself and seeing what he has and hasn’t eaten.

Emily sticks around until ten. The two of them picking up meager things and she promises to come by early tomorrow and the two of them will go to PetSmart to figure out what kind of food Scout should be eating.

And before he knows it…

“I guess it’s just me and you then.” Scout tilts her head at him. “You want to… go to bed?”

He’s not really sure how the dog thing works. TV has shown him plenty of times they’re not supposed to sleep in your bed so he makes her a blanket bed of her own and marks down a dog bed on his list of things to get tomorrow at the pet store. He tells her goodnight and then blushes at how silly that sounds.

He’s in bed, changed into pajamas, and yawning into his book but he’s committed to reading a chapter every night. He hears her get up but he still jumps when his bedroom door is opened. She doesn’t wait for a command and doesn't listen to his “no” before jumping up into the bed alongside him. He’s trying to grumble, to get up but she lays right across his hips. Turning her head to look up at him and he gives up. “Only tonight,” he says.

Tonight turns into the way she sits between his legs, when they’re listening to the guy at PetSmart help them pick out food. To the way she looks up at him when he tries to estimate how big she’ll be to get her a properly sized bed. Which ultimately turns into him giving up and Emily hiding her smirk at just how whipped he already is.

Tonight turns into every night and if his nightmares stop coming as frequently because she’s laying atop him he doesn’t say anything. If he starts going out more and the team starts picking out pet friendly places to meet him for lunch or to have a coffee break then he also doesn't say anything but Scout is right there.

So… what exactly does it take to draw Aaron Hotchner away from the ghosts? A puppy.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jack hotchner #hank morgan #savannah hayes #jennifer jareau #will lamontagne #henry jareau #david rossi

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hearts-hunger · 4 years ago

Text

ciryc ca’tra (cold night sky): chapter six || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

Series Summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe under the cold night sky. || Part One of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Din works tirelessly for his little family, and you trust him to get you and your son home safely.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst | Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None!

A/N: We’ve made it to the end of this little series! Thank you so much for all of your kind comments - they make me grin like an idiot every time I read them, and I’m so happy you guys are enjoying it! I’m working on a standalone epilogue, but I’m not sure when that’ll be done. For now, thank you so much for letting me share my imaginary world with you. I love you! ♡

It was the cold that woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open as an involuntary shiver went through you. It was dark, and for a moment you were too dazed to tell where you were. You sat up a little too quickly; you winced at the bone-deep ache you felt and tried to get your bearings.

“Cyare?”

Din’s voice soothed you as soon as you heard it, and you remembered with a resigned sort of clarity that you’d fallen asleep while he worked on the cockpit.

“Yeah,” you said. You were surprised that your teeth chattered, and drew your cloak together around you. You noticed your son wasn’t sitting on your lap any more, and tried to make him out in the dim light.

“You have the baby?” you asked, your breath turning into vapor in front of you.

Din hummed in agreement. You thought you saw the gleam of beskar, but you couldn’t really tell the dark shapes apart on the cockpit floor.

You nudged your boot at one of the shapes. “Where are you?”

“Under the dash,” he said, his voice slightly muffled.

“I can’t see you,” you said. You heard a soft grunt when your boot met something hard.

“Well, you found my ribcage,” he said. “Don’t step on me if you get up.”

You laughed a little. “Sorry. I’ll try not to.”

You leaned forward in your seat, ducking your head to look under the dash that had been completely covered with a dull layer of frost. Now that you knew where he was, you could make out that he was lying on his back to work on the wiring on the underside of the instrument panel. Only his head and shoulders fit in the space, and the rest of him was laid out on the cockpit floor.

“What about you, ad’ika?” you called to your baby. “Where are you?”

You heard his soft coo from under the dash.

“Din, he’s under there with you?” you asked, a little uneasy at the thought. You heard the spark of frayed wires and didn’t feel any more confident.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Din assured you. “I’m not letting him get into anything.”

You gave a dubious frown, but realistically you knew Din would never put the baby in any danger. Even if hot-wiring a spaceship wasn’t your idea of a great activity for a toddler, you weren’t concerned enough to argue.

You rolled your shoulders a little, trying to ease the feeling of having slept in a cold, uncomfortable cockpit. “How’s the repair coming?”

You heard your husband sigh. “It’s coming,” he said. “Still have a ways to go. This is the last thing to do inside, but I have some work to do on the outside too.”

You winced at the thought of going out into the cold. While the Crest wasn’t exactly a sauna at the moment, it did protect you from the wind and snowfall, and you wished Din didn’t have to go out in it.

With a soft groan at trying to get your cold muscles moving again, you laid yourself on the floor next to Din and propped yourself up on his chest, one of your legs going between his. Your knee accidentally nudged his codpiece and he gave a slightly disgruntled noise.

“Can’t tell if that was supposed to be nice or not, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer nice.”

You breathed a laugh and patted his torso affectionately. “I know you would, lover. I didn't mean to knee you, sorry.”

“Hm. Why are you down here, anyway?” He didn’t say why are you laying on top of me while I’m trying to work, because he was far too sweet to say something like that, but you got the message anyway.

You rested your head against his chestplate. “Thought I’d keep you company.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, a brief slew of sparks lighting up the space where he was working; you heard the baby give an excited babble at the lights.

“Well, as much as I like laying with you, I’m finished under here,” he said. He made to push himself out from under the dash, but you put a hand on his chest to still him.

“Wait, just one more minute,” you said. It wasn’t comfortable lying all tangled up with him on the cockpit floor by any means, but you sort of liked it.

You felt him relax a little and breathe a laugh. “I’m halfway under the panel, cyare. Not exactly in a good place to romance you that well.”

“Mm, but you’re warm,” you said. Underneath his frosted beskar, you could feel his body heat through his flight suit. “Can we take a vacation after this?”

“Like where?”

You shrugged. “Maybe go back to Naboo. See the lake country.”

He sighed and ran his hand over your back. “Sure, cyar’ika. I’ll take you wherever you want.”

You stayed on top of him for a few more minutes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, hugging him tighter when you felt him shudder with cold. Eventually, you disentangled yourself and offered him a hand once he’d come out from underneath the panel, your little son in tow.

“Go see mama,” Din said, handing him to you. He was still holding his little ball, and the three of you sat on the cockpit floor in companionable silence for a moment.

“How was your nap?” Din asked you. You ran your fingers along the edge of his visor, trying to break up some of the frost.

“Good,” you said. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

He nodded. “Do you remember what you dreamed about?”

You frowned a little; as attentive as your husband was, that question seemed a little whimsical for his tastes.

“I don’t think I dreamed at all,” you said. “Why?”

He shrugged. “You looked a little like you were having a nightmare, at one point. I thought about waking you, but before I decided, you’d settled back down. I just wondered if you remembered it. I’m glad you don’t.”

You sighed. “Yeah, me too.” You leaned your head forward, and he obliged you with a gentle headbutt.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to sleep,” you said.

He cleared his throat; he sounded congested and tired and very cold.

“I’ll sleep on the way to Trask,” he said. “Don’t worry about me, cyare.”

He touched a gloved hand to your cheek before he stood, offering you a hand to help you up off the floor. He stretched his back, and you heard a familiar crack followed by a small sigh through his vocoder.

“I’m gonna get started on the outside,” he said. “Your son probably needs something to eat.”

You went through your mental catalog of what you had in your pantry that could have survived everything. Not much, but it would have to do.

“Do you want anything?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No, thank you.” He leaned down to pick up his toolbox. “Knock on the glass if you need anything.”

He left to go to the outside of the cockpit, and you heard him speak briefly to the frog lady and give her an update about the repairs as you and the baby ventured towards the storage room. Your hand hovered over the button to open the door, and you couldn’t remember if it had been closed earlier.

You leaned over the ladder and tried to see if your husband was still downstairs. “Din?”

You heard his familiar tread come across the floor; he appeared at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at you.

“What do you need?”

You gave him an apologetic grimace. “Could you do me a huge favor, because you love me?”

He huffed a laugh. “Sure. What is it?”

You looked back at the storage room door. “I need you to make sure there’s no spiders in the storage room.”

He set his toolbox on the ground and came back up the ladder. “Stay here.”

You and the baby watched as Din pushed the button to open the door, hand resting on his blaster; he tapped the side of his helmet to activate the HUD and looked around.

“I think it’s ok,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t see any - ah, kriff, hang on.”

He drew his blaster and fired up above the door; the lifeless body of the spider about the size of a dinner plate fell with a thunk on the floor. You winced and the baby cooed with interest.

Din kept his blaster up as he scanned the room again, and after a few moments, he seemed satisfied that it was just the one. He holstered his blaster and tapped the HUD off as he came back over to you.

“Good to go,” he said. Then, sensing your hesitation, he inclined his head to you. “I promise, cyar’ika. I did a full scan. I didn’t see any more.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Sorry you keep having to do... everything.”

“Well, what are husbands for?” he said sweetly.

You wondered how many more times you’d need to ask him for a favor on top of everything else he was doing. You had never felt yourself a burden to him before - you were his partner, and you carried your share of the responsibilities in your marriage and in parenting. You trusted him to protect you and provide for your family, and he had always done so with a very selfless love; but these past few days had driven you to true dependence on him, and for the first time, you felt a weight of guilt settle on your shoulders.

“Hey, cyare?” he said gently. You looked up at him.

He lightly tapped your nose, and you were so pleasantly surprised by the silly little gesture of affection that you giggled like a schoolgirl. His chuckle was warm through his modulator, and you knew that if he didn’t have the helmet on, you’d see a very warm smile on his face.

“I love you very much,” he said. “And I’m honored to be the one you chose to take care of you. You could have had anybody in the galaxy, and you decided on me, and I thank the jate'kara for that every day.”

Mandalorians had a concept of good or lucky stars that steered one’s fate, and Din had always made a habit of telling you his jate'kara were the best ones in the galaxy because they had led him to you. Your smile was a little wobbly as he cupped your face, and you leaned into his touch.

“I could not ask for a better fate than to serve you until my dying day,” he said gently. “You and our son are everything to me, and if I had to build this ship from scratch for you, I would.”

He gently tweaked your cheek. “And if I have to come up and take care of more spiders for you, I will.”

You gave a soft laugh and touched your fingers to your lips, then to the bottom of his visor. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He brushed his thumb over your cheek and comforted you for a few moments before he turned to go.

“The repairs on the outside should be pretty straightforward,” he said. “I’ve already done all the wiring inside, so all that’s left to do is a patch repair that will let the cockpit pressurize before we hit the atmosphere.”

His gaze was steady, and you rested in his silent assurance that everything would be alright.

“Not long now, cyar’ika,” he said. “I promise.”

He rubbed the tip of the baby’s ear gently between his fingers. “Be good for mama.”

The baby cooed at him, and both of you watched as Din went back down the ladder to get to work. You carefully stepped over the body of the spider in the doorway; your son wriggled to be set down, thinking the spider to be an interesting toy, and you bounced him on your hip to soothe him.

“I know,” you said in a sing-song voice. “You’re not having the best time either, are you?”

He chewed slightly on the silver ball while you rummaged through the cabinets and shelves for something for him to snack on.

“Maybe when we get to Trask, we can convince daddy to let us eat dessert for a whole day.”

He babbled happily, perhaps at the thought of a whole day of sweet treats, and you smiled.

“Your daddy would go crazy,” you said. Din only liked sweet foods when he was in a particular mood for them, but you and the baby would happily eat dessert for every meal.

You found a stray packet of portion bread powder and mixed it with the little bit of water you could coax from the faucet. The baby made grabby hands towards it as it expanded into a small loaf of bread, and you tore off a piece for both of you. It was no Five Blossom Bread like the kind you’d learned to make from your mother in your childhood, but it would do for now, and you and the baby ate contentedly in the quiet of the storage room.

Your baby yawned when he finished his snack, one hand curled around his silver ball and the other grabbing a tiny fistful of your shirt as he leaned against your chest. You tucked the edge of your cloak around him and kissed his soft head.

“Should we go see what daddy’s working on?” you asked quietly. He gave a drowsy coo at the mention of his father, fighting sleep; you rocked him gently as you made your way back to the cockpit.

You could make out Din’s figure through the frosty glass, kneeling on the lip of the windshield to repair the seam between the metal and the glass. Sparks flew from the welding gun, reflecting on his beskar that looked densely covered in frost. A gentle snow fell and dusted his shoulders, and it almost would have been a pretty thing if you weren’t so desperately cold. You hoped Din was warm enough.

You knocked on the glass, but only to say hello; you gave him a small wave and a smile, and he cocked his head a little and waved back. You stood and rocked your baby as he fell asleep, watching your husband work and humming a lullaby that turned into little clouds of vapor with each breath.

Sooner than you’d expected, Din came back in and helped the frog lady bring her eggs up to the cockpit. When she was settled, the canister securely in her lap, he turned to you. He helped you put the seatbelt over your lap, careful not to wake the baby; his gaze lingered as he straightened, and he brushed a gentle finger over his son’s head.

“Okay,” he said, to both you and the frog lady as he took the pilot’s chair and started turning everything on. “Repair’s all done. Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.”

The familiar sound of the Crest’s power-up sequence was a welcome bit of comfort, and you fervently hoped that everything went smoothly. If this didn’t work...

You took a deep breath as Din put a hand to the thrust lever. This was going to work. If Din couldn’t get the Crest to work, no one could. He eased the lever back and the engines roared to life.

The Crest rattled and shook like a thing possessed, but it did rise out of the ice, the metal groaning with the effort. The legs of the giant spider slid off in a final, terrible release of the ship it had damaged so thoroughly; the engines stuttered but stayed aloft as the right thruster knocked against the overhanging ice. Din eased the ship up through hole in the cavern’s ceiling as gracefully as he could, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, you were leaving the frozen planet. You gave a sigh of relief when the ship made it through the atmosphere and into the almost comforting expanse of space.

Din looked back at you, and you couldn’t help but give him a beaming grin.

“We made it,” he said, and you realized just how afraid he’d been that you wouldn’t. You reached out for his hand and he took it, holding tightly.

“I love you,” you said. “And I’m so proud of you.”

He touched his other hand to the bottom of his visor. “I’m proud of you too, ner kar’ta.” He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Let’s go somewhere warm, hm?”

You laughed, relief and happiness bubbling from you like a bottle of Daruvvian champagne.

“I’ll go anywhere you want to,” you said. Your ship was barely limping along, and both of you were tired and hungry and cold, but you were together, and safe, and off that frozen rock. You’d never felt more delighted in your life.

He released your hand with a little bit of reluctance as he set the course for Trask, and you felt a rush of happiness for your passenger that she would soon be reunited with her husband. You didn’t know what you would have done without yours by your side through this ordeal, and hoped you would never have to be separated from Din like the frog lady had been separated from her mate. She kept a loving hand over the canister of eggs in her lap, and you held your baby a little closer too.

“Wake me up if someone shoots at us,” Din said. “Or if that door gets sucked off its rails.”

The frog lady gave a concerned croak, unfamiliar with your husband’s dry humor.

“Din,” you scolded gently. He laughed a little and turned to face her.

“I’m kidding,” he assured her. It seemed he couldn’t resist one more joke, though. “If that happened, we’d all be dead.”

You rolled your eyes, affectionately exasperated. You saw him cross his arms over his chest and lean his head back against the headrest.

“Sweet dreams,” he said. You knew he’d be out like a light, and the frog lady settled herself to sleep too, resting her head on the top of the canister.

You curled up as best you could in your seat, gently shushing your baby as he had begun to stir at his father’s voice. You rocked him and brushed your fingers over his ear; you listened to the humming of the engines and the sound of Din’s slowly deepening breaths like a lullaby. You still had a long trip ahead of you, but the worst was over, and you rested in that as your husband and baby slept peacefully.

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven, @sarahjkl82-blog, @remmysbounty, @bitchin-beskar ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

#i enjoyed writing this series so much y'all don't even know #and i'm so happy you guys are enjoying reading it <3 #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian chapter 10 #chapter 10 the passenger #maddie writes stuff!#ciryc ca'tra #flashing gif tw

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elizabeethan · 3 years ago

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Safe 1 / 1

Killian finds a safe in Emma's closet and nearly loses his mind trying to figure out what she's hiding.

I'm not saying this is the start of another fic in this universe, but I'm also not not saying that.

This picks up a few weeks after the ending of The Days We Defend (Will Turn to Gold)

Read on Ao3

Rated T I guess

1441 words

For @the-darkdragonfly, who likes to beg me for more Corrine

~~~~

It started out as nothing. It should still be nothing, really, but he’s let that ship sail long ago. The curiosity got the better of him, and he’s been losing his mind ever since.

It’s easy to expect the worst. He and Emma have discussed the unpredictability of her magic, what with her pregnancy and recent curse and subsequent traumatic events, and he thought that they were on the same page with her taking it easy. She’s only a few months along, just starting to show, and she’s been totally on board with his suggestion that using magic she can’t fully understand, with few resources to help her, could be dangerous.

But then he found the damn safe.

He had no idea she owned it, but he probably shouldn’t be surprised. Based on who she was before he knew her, he can’t be shocked at the knowledge that she has secrets. But still, he’s worried. He’s worried at the thought of her needing to keep things from him. He's worried at the idea that she may not feel she can trust him with every aspect of her life. He's worried that she’s keeping something magical and dangerous locked away in their closet and not telling him about it.

This is what he gets for doing the laundry, he supposes. It’s a cursed task, to be sure.

He didn’t mean to at first. He didn’t intend to try and break it open. But when he found himself punching in 1-2-3-4 and then 1-0-2-3 and then 0-8-1-6 and then 0-6-2-4, he realized how insane he was acting. Trying to hack into her safe using her family’s dates of birth was insane. Trying to violate his fiance’s trust by hacking into her locked safe was completely insane. Not to mention, diabolical.

But then he found himself going even more insane, trying to pry the heavy metal door open with his hook when the combinations he guessed failed. The safe was small enough, mounted into the wall and hidden behind a myriad of dresses hanging from the bar in the closet. There’s nothing to even say that there's even anything inside. But for some reason, he can’t help but to picture the worst. He pictures a magic dagger powerful enough to destroy everything they hold dear. He pictures a magic bean that could rip their family apart. He pictures the hat that holds the ominous power of the Dark One.

He wonders why he can’t trust his fiance.

He should’ve heard the front door open and slam shut. He should’ve heard his toddler tromping up the stairs and running to his room to greet him.

“Daddy, what doing there?” she asks pensively, leaning against the doorframe exactly as she’s watched her father do.

“Well, hello, my love. I’m just finishing up. How was Mimi?”

“What doing?” she asks again, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. “Landy?”

He clears his throat and stands, feeling a burn in his knees as he realizes how long he’s been sitting here trying to violate his love’s trust. “Yes, angel, I’m just doing some laundry.”

“Mommy!” she screams, turning towards the door that leads out to the hallway as he hears Emma’s footsteps approaching. “Daddy does landy.”

“Does he?” Emma asks, smiling and cocking her head to the right as she takes in the sight before her: Killian standing and groaning as he brushes off the backs of his legs. “Isn’t that nice of him.”

He recognizes the suspicious smile on her face immediately as she bites her bottom lip and raises a brow at him. “Yes,” Corrine confirms, ratting out her father just like the pirate he knew she would become. “See?”

“Yes,” Emma responds, smiling down at their daughter. “I do see. I see your daddy fiddling with things that don’t belong to him.”

“Ah, well,” he laughs nervously, scratching behind his ear and clearing his throat. “It certainly is lovely to see you both.”

“I’m sure it is,” she rolls her eyes in response, stepping towards him and placing a chaste kiss to his cheek just beside his mouth. “0-9-1-8.”

“Pardon?” he asks in confusion.

“The combination,” she clarifies. “0-9-1-8. September 18th; the day you found me in New York.”

“Swan,” he starts, his guilt manifesting into something out of his control. “I meant not to…”

She giggles at him as she moves into the closet, Corrine mimicking the sound, and punches in the code. The door opens easily and he rolls his eyes as he recalls the effort he had put forth in opening it, thinking himself a fool for even trying. When the door swings open and reveals it’s contents, he wants to bury his head in the sand to quell the embarrassment that plagues him.

It’s filled with snacks. Bags and bags of chips, poptarts, candies… all of the things she craves and he refuses to let her eat in excess.

“You won’t let me keep them in the pantry, so I hide them up here,” she explains. “I’m sorry for being dishonest.”

Bloody hell. If there’s one thing that can make him feel even worse about his foolishness, it’s her apologizing to him. “Love, I should--”

“I want that one!” Corrine shouts, pointing at the small pastry wrapped in clear plastic. “Mommy, I can have it?”

“Now look what you’ve done,” she jokes, playfully rolling her eyes at Killian. “Come on, Coco. Let’s have an apple with this Honey Bun.”

~~~~

Later in the evening, when they’re sated and panting and she curls into his side to squeeze him tight, his guilt takes over again as the thoughts of what he expected to find in her secret hiding place plague his mind. He’s always quick to ask her to trust him, and he feels as though he’s failed her for not doing so in return. Why he couldn’t let it go-- why he couldn’t tell himself that she wouldn’t dabble in dangerous magic and hide it from him-- he isn’t sure.

“What’s going on in there?” she asks when her breathing steadies, lifting her arm from his torso and brushing her fingers along his temple.

He smiles down at her and says, “nothing, love. I apologize if I seem distracted.”

“Is this about earlier?” she asks thoughtfully, cupping his neck with her palm and stroking her thumb along the line of his jaw. “The safe? Are you mad because I kept it from you?”

“No, Swan, never. I only… well, I suppose I should apologize for that. I shouldn’t have attempted to violate your privacy like I did.”

She sighs and hugs him close again, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, and whispers, “why did you?”

Remaining still and silent, he allows the darkness of the room to trick him into a false sense of security. He knows why he did it; he knows it’s because he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months since they broke the last curse. The last curse, because they’ve been cursed countless times before. And with a new baby on the way… he isn’t sure how to care for a newborn with one hand, never mind with some new form of dark magic potentially threatening them. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers. “I suppose I’m just…”

“Waiting for something bad to happen?”

“Aye,” he breathes in relief, because of course she would know exactly how he’s feeling and what he’s thinking. “We’ve certainly had our fair share of challenges.”

“The dagger is right where we left it,” she promises. “It’s safe, locked away in the basement where it can’t escape. Me and The Apprentice put a spell on it, remember? I promise, nothing is going to happen to us.” Her words are forceful and confident, but her tone is anything but.

“Aye, love, you’re right. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Good. Now, it’s time to move on from this, because only one of us is allowed to freak out at a time and if you're scared, I’m definitely going to get scared soon.”

Kissing her temple, he holds her tighter and focuses on the sounds of their breathing filling the silent room. “You don’t have to be scared,” he finally tells her. “Everything is going to be alright. I’m sorry I had a momentary bout of insanity earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he promises, trying his hardest to put aside his assumptions that something catastrophic is about to happen and instead enjoy being here by her side. As if reminding himself as much as her, he says, “we’re alright, love,” before they both drift off to sleep.

~~~~

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yanderecrazysie · 3 years ago

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Hello, I just binge read everything on your blog. I’m so excited for that Scp thing! If you don’t mind could I please request the yandere alphabet with nishinoya? Thanks anyway!

Thank you so much, I'm so honored!!! And of course you can request that!

I hope you enjoy this! :D

Nishinoya Yū (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

Warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping, violence, implied murder, mentions of suicide.

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it?

💖 Nishinoya is EXTREMELY affectionate. Like, this boy would be hugging on you at all times if he could. He's kinda clingy.

💖 He just wants to be able to touch you. I think he'd prefer his arms around you with him cuddling his face into your hair, but as long as he's touching you in SOME way he's happy.

💖 When is he NOT affectionate? That's the real question. If he's not touching you, it's not by his choice and he's not happy about it.

B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why?

🔪 Nishnoya is loyal af. Like, if you're bullied or hit on, he's having none of that. Those bullies/flirts are in for a bad time.

🔪 Would he kill? I don't THINK so. Unless, of course, he HAS to. Or he goes overboard when beating someone who had the AUDACITY to grope you into a bloody pulp.

C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them?

💔 Nishinoya is not going to mock you at all and he's not going to be cruel. He's a worshipper (have you SEEN him with Kiyoko?) and you'd be treated like a goddess.

💔 You'd be taken care of better than you've ever been. Everything you could ever want will be in your hand before you can ask for it. He knows you so well, after all!

D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them?

💭 How delusional? Yes. Just yes. Nishinoya is one of the most delusional yanderes out there.

💭 He doesn't EXACTLY believe that you're in love with him, but he knows you will be soon. As long as he treats you right, and he sure as heck is, you'll see just how much you two are meant for each other.

💭 Nishinoya knows that you're happy with him! Your tears and begging to go home is just you being a little confused. It just means he has to try harder!

E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them?

💧 You can know anything you want to if you just ask him! Even if you don't ask, he'll at least rant and rave about how amazing you are and every minuscule reason you're absolutely perfect.

💧 Nishinoya doesn't even need a second thought, a single hesitation. He'll tell you anything, anything!

F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back?

👊 Nishinoya would be HEARTBROKEN. But... you're just confused, right? You're... You're just confused, yeah! This is new for you! He'll do better, he swears!

👊 He'll sit back and let you tire yourself out, just dodging you or closing you away in your room until you calm down. He'd never raise a hand against you, even if you punch him to death.

G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start?

😔 Nishinoya probably will never feel guilt. He's extremely delusional, like I said. He honestly believes he's improving your life by removing you from society.

😔 The only time I can imagine Nishinoya feeling guilty is if you got hurt somehow. He's supposed to be improving your life, and now you're hurt? He screwed up-

H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

🔥 To be honest, it'd be hard to have a bad day with Nishinoya. He worships the ground you walk on, why would he make you miserable?

🔥 I guess resistance is futile though. You don't want to cuddle today? Well, he'll just squeeze tighter until you realize you do! You want to go home? This is your new home, silly!

I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

👩‍❤️‍👨 Nishinoya really believes in a forever with you. When you both die, you'll go to heaven together. But before then: you'll grow old together.

👩‍❤️‍👨 He really cares about what you want. If you don't want kids, he won't force them on you. If you want as many kids as possible, he's your man! And he'll be the best father in the entire world!

J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

💢 It doesn't take much to get Nishinoya jealous. He's the one that loves you, adores you, and worships you. No one else treats you as well as he does, so they don't deserve to be in your vicinity, look at you, even breathe the same air as you!

💢 Did... did you just smile and laugh at his joke? Nononono- Nishinoya can be funny! And... and how DARE that guy tell you a joke? It better not have been a dirty joke either-

K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out?

🔒 Nishinoya wanted to kidnap you the moment he fell in love with you. That's probably not healthy (definitely not healthy) but he knew this twisted world could never take care of a goddess like you.

🔒 I think Nishinoya wouldn't be able to plan too far ahead. He's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. All it takes is one good opportunity and you're suddenly finding yourself in a cozy bedroom decorated in your favorite color and filled with your favorite things.

L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

💌 One day you're living your normal life and the next day you've got a small guy with black hair (except that little blonde streak) trailing after you like a lovesick puppy.

💌 Can you really complain when he's giving you cute little plushies of your favorite animals, your favorite treats, lots of chocolate, and literally everything you like. Wait... how does he know what you like?

M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before?

🎭 Uhhh kinda sorta? I mean, his friends wouldn't expect him to kidnap you BUT it just seems to them like Nishinoya moved on to the next Kiyoko. And, considering how he treated her, it's not all that surprising to see him acting obsessive towards you.

🎭 Honestly, I don't think anyone would notice the difference in obsessions. Tanaka would think it's totally normal and be super glad he no longer shows interest in Kiyoko or his older sister. Asahi might notice that Nishinoya's love for you is way beyond even his previous love for Kiyoko but I don't think it'd concern him too much.

N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

🚓 He wouldn't. You're perfect in his eyes. The most I can see him doing is giving you some "alone time" in your room, but that's honestly just to calm you down if you're freaking out. You get a break and he can't access you. So it's more of a blessing for you and torture for him anyways.

O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust?

📜 You'd have free run of the house, mostly, but you aren't leaving. You're not safe out in the evil world out there, so please don't go near that locked door, okay?

P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

🕊️ Nishinoya doesn't really know the meaning of patience but he'll do his best to give you the time you need. He genuinely doesn't understand why you're resisting his love so much and he keeps trying to speed up the process.

Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

🏃‍♀️ If you die, so does he. He can't live without you, so he'll follow you into the afterlife.

🏃‍♀️ To be fair, you probably can take advantage of his delusional mind and unwavering trust to escape. But that wouldn't be the end, unfortunately. Nishinoya would literally search the ends of the earth for you until he finds you.

R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down?

👿 Picture a toddler throwing a fit because he didn't get the toy he wanted. That's Nishinoya.

👿 You aren't getting hurt or anything, don't worry about that. You do, however, have to deal with him wrapping his arms around your legs and sobbing into them.

👿 He'll calm down when he's got his arms around you, his face buried in your hair, and you finally going limp in his hold.

S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling?

💍 You're so beautiful in your own unique way, and Nishinoya can't get enough of you. His biggest wish, the moment he met you, was to stroke your hair and soft skin.

💍 If you're a smarty pants, you were tutoring him. He specifically asked for a girl tutor. If you're not a smarty pants, he met you in class or you were both getting tutored in some sort of study group. It'd probably have to do with tutoring, okay?

💍 It was love at first sight. And if you called him senpai you sealed your own fate, okay? That's on you.

T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

😭 You absolutely shatter Nishinoya's heart when you cry. He wants you happy! Seeing you sad means he's failing. He wants to try harder but you keep saying nonsense about how you "want to go home" or that you "miss your family". Why isn't he enough? He thought he was doing so well!

😭 Isolating yourself is the biggest punishment for Nishinoya. Being unable to touch you is enough torture, being unable to see or hear you? God, are you TRYING to kill him? He can't take this- please come out- PLEASE- He just needs to know you're okay! He loves you so, so much!

U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Nishinoya is a worshipper x100. You could screw up as much as you want and he'll still think you're 100% perfect. You don't have to worry about him hurting or punishing you too harshly. Honestly, you're relatively safe with him.

👌 You actually have a good chance of escaping. He'll likely pick a house far away from society though and he DEFINITELY won't give up just because you got away. You better have a good plan because you really don't want him upping the security "until you get used to your new home a little more".

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Simple answer is no. You only need him. He's the only one worthy to be in your presence.

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ You're literally the embodiment of his weakness. He's weak for you. Fake a pout or smile and he's wrapped around your finger in an instant.

❌ Although you can't negotiate your release or the ability to contact/visit the outside world, you CAN get practically anything you want. Which means you can use things he gives you to escape. Or you can just enjoy your life of being worshipped and spoiled.

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 Nishinoya would do ANYTHING for you. He would literally drop to his knees and kiss your feet- and he probably will. He may not be able to let you leave him or return to society, but he'll make up for it in every way possible.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

😍 Nishinoya wouldn't last long without you. He loves you so, so much and just wants you in his arms. The more you hang around others and the longer you go about your normal life, the more stressed you make him. He needs to rescue you from this awful world...

Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances?

0️⃣ The thing that Nishinoya can't stand is you trying to escape, but he doesn't exactly "snap". It's more like a panic attack and tantrum as he drags you back into the house, begging you to explain what he can do better and what he did wrong.

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

I hope I did okay! I think it was shorter than Akaashi's, but Noya's a simpler creature!

Thank you for the request, my lovely Anon!

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere nishinoya #yandere alphabet #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yu

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imherongraystairstrash · 4 years ago

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So between a few fics I’ve read between various fandoms as of late, I came up with the cutest idea ever, with a hint of angst of course. I am gifting it to you because you’re an amazing human being!

So you know those fics where a character gets de-aged and sort of keeps their memories, but because they’re younger and *waves hand* magic, it’s mostly just impressions of the people around them? What if prior to TID, Will got hit with a potion or spell or something that de-aged him to like a 5-8 year old or something. And he doesn’t really remember his curse, but what he does know is that Fairwell have been raising him, so he thinks they’re his parents? And calls them as such? And he’s just the sweetest little boy, always chasing after them or Jem, wanting to be read to or picked up and cuddled. And then the potion or spell wears off after a couple of weeks of this, and they have to go back to dealing with normal Will, who claims not to remember anything of what happened, but totally does, and acts worse than normal accordingly.

Uh oh, I got carried away with a fic againnn. Thank you so much for this amazing request though! I would post it all here, but I’m not even done and it’s almost at the 2500 word mark, so I’m posting this chunk, and if you enjoy, you can look out for the second part! Here it goes:

Will Herondale De-age fic (part 1)

“Jem?” Charlotte asked, incredulously. “Why, may I inquire, do you have a toddler in your arms?!”

“Mama!” The toddler, who looked an awful lot like someone Charlotte knew, squealed. He began frantically squirming in Jem’s arms, and reaching out to Charlotte, desperate for her to hold him.

Charlotte took the toddler from Jem’s arms. He shot her a grateful look as the child ceased his squirming and put his head on her shoulder and promptly began playing with a loose strand on the bodice of her dress.

“Whose child is this? And why does he think I’m his mother? And why does he look exactly like Will?”

“That’s because he is Will.”

Jem must have gone mad. That was the only other explanation. “James Carstairs, there better be a good explanation as to why you seemed to have kidnapped a child from the streets!”

“I did not! That is Will, Charlotte. Somehow, he got turned into a—a child while we were patrolling.”

“What do you mean?! Who did this to him?”

“I don’t know! I was not present at the moment. All I know is that I went to go find him and there he was!”

Charlotte held the boy at an arm's length and looked at his face. Sure enough, the little boy had eyes the color of blue glass. His unruly raven hair curled in a pile on top of his head. He stared at her and she knew.

“By the Angel!” Charlotte exclaimed.

The child—Will— giggled.

“Oh, Will. What happened to you?”

“Lottie, have you seen my—” Henry paused as he came into the threshold and looked at little Will. “Whose child is that?”

“Ours, apparently.”

Henry looked at her, confused. “What?”

“It’s Will.”

“Will? But Will is sixteen. Why is he so tiny?”

“That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

“Papa!” Will exclaimed, opening and closing his fists.

Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not your father.” He said. Charlotte noted that he looked at her back, perhaps so horrified, he was hoping to hide from Will’s gaze by moving behind Charlotte.

“You’re not?” Will asked, his voice so small, Charlotte had to suppress the “aw” that was building up in her heart.

Henry seemed to think it was adorable too, and not nearly as frightening, because when he spoke again, it was softly. “No, I’m Henry.”

Will nodded. “Papa.”

Henry shot a look at Charlotte. The want to coo at Will was short-lived. She was about to pull out her hair in stress of what to do.

“Here, Henry. Hold Will for a moment, would you?” She said, putting him in Henry’s arms.

Henry looked tense for a moment, not knowing what to do, until Will wrapped his arms around his neck tightly. A small smile spread across Henry’s face.

“Who do we call?” Charlotte said, “what will the consul say? He’ll think we killed Will and tried to replace him with a Nephilim child. He won’t even try us with the mortal sword. This is so absurd, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Charlotte, I still feel our Parabatai bond; it’s peculiar and faint, but it’s still there.”

“Is it still on him?” Charlotte asked.

“I haven’t checked yet.” Jem said. “The first thing I did was come home, I–I didn’t know what else to do, Charlotte. I panicked!”

“It’s alright, Jemmy.” Charlotte said, patting his shoulder, “we will figure it out and fix this.”

Charlotte turned to Henry and Will. The latter was snuggled up against Henry’s shoulder and sucking his thumb, perfectly content to stay there for the rest of the day.

Charlotte walked towards them and moved his thumb and pulled his shirt down just enough to see the edges of where his parabatai rune began.

“He still has his runes.” Henry said.

Charlotte shook her head. “He has only his Parabatai and Clairvoyance rune. Whatever dark magic he’s under cannot break something as sacred and powerful as a shadowhunter’s first rune nor the Parabatai rune. Which is a relief for when we manage to change him back.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to change him back?” Jem said, a worried expression on his face as he looked at his parabatai.

Charlotte put her arms around him. “Of course we will, Jem. Don’t you fret.”

…

“He’s much more pleasant when he can’t talk much.” Sophie said, side-eyeing Will as he padded around the room. He stopped in front of her and offered her the cog Henry had given him to keep him entertained. Sophie took it hesitantly, and Will tottered away, in search of something else.

“He’s definitely more affectionate.”

“Well,” Jem said, “the innocence of childhood.”

“Right,” Sophie said slowly, looking around the room, before turning back around, saying she had work to attend to, but that she’d come back if her help was necessary.

Jem began reading the book in his lap, but he found that he was reading without processing the words, and he kept having to read the same paragraph over and over again. No matter how many times he read it, all he could think about was how the last time he checked his parabatai rune, it seemed to be getting lighter; a dark gray instead of it’s normal, stark black. He hadn’t told Charlotte yet, though.

Speaking of Charlotte, she was speaking, now. “It would need to be a trusted warlock.” she said, before she was interrupted by a tugging on her dress. She froze and turned her gaze downward to find Will, his blue eyes wide open, staring up at her. He put his hands up and Charlotte sighed as she bent down and picked him up. “As I was saying,” she continued. “A trusted warlock would be necessary. I don’t want to know what would happen if the Clave were to find out about our…situation.”

With Will’s head rested on Charlotte’s collarbone and his fingers playing with her necklace, Jem realized two things. The first was that Charlotte looked like the symbol of empowerment; she was a defender of the fact that just because women were mothers, it didn’t mean they were any less capable of leading a group of people, nor that they are, by any means, weaker. The second was that Charlotte was less of an older sister and more of a mother than any of them had thought. The same went for Henry. No matter how old they thought they were, they all still relied on Henry and Charlotte, and they needed them more than they cared to admit.

“Who can we trust?”

“That is the question of the century, Jem.” Charlotte sighed.

“I can’t imagine Ragnor Fell would say anything to the Clave. We could ask him.” Henry suggested.

“Except he never seems to be available.” Charlotte said.

It’s true; even Jem knew that Ragnor wasn’t very keen on assisting the Branwells for matters that he wasn’t forced to do.

“However,” Charlotte continued. “I will send a message to him regardless, as it won’t hurt to try, and there is nobody else I could think that wouldn’t report to the Clave.”

“It's a good thing that the only thing Ragnor hates more than us is the Clave.”

Henry frowned, “Ragnor hates us?”

“No, darling, he just hates helping us with our problems.”

Henry’s frown deepened, like the idea of not wanting to help people confused him greatly.

“Miss!” Sophie exclaimed, coming into the room, a little bit breathless, suggesting that she had sprinted there.

“Sophie, what’s the matter?”

“The Consul,” she gasped, “he’s here!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “By the Angel!” She thrusted Will into Henry’s arms. “Hide him!”

She followed Sophie out of the room, putting on a mask of cool calmness. “And don’t look suspicious.”

She closed the door behind her and Henry whirled to face Jem. “Where do we put him?!” He asked.

Jem shrugged, and looked around the room frantically.

“You two are hopeless.” Jessamine said with cool indifference, as she slipped off her glove and examined her fingernails.

“What about here?” Henry asked, sitting Will down on a bookshelf. Will giggled, falling off. Henry let out a yell and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Yes, Mr. Consul, right this way.” Charlotte was saying.

Henry’s eyes widened in panic. As the doors opened, he quickly hid Will behind he’s back.

“He’s right here.” Charlotte said, gesturing to Henry.

“Mr. Branwell,” Consul Wayland said. “I have to speak with you on matters concerning…” he frowned at the outstretched hand Henry hadn’t shaken yet and then he squinted his eyes. “Is that a child behind you?”

The residents of the London Institute held their breaths (well, except for Jessamine, of course) before Henry finally spoke.

“Er—yes. We’re playing hide-and-seek.”

“Hide-and-seek.”

“Why yes, it’s a game played by children for entertainment in which—”

“Yes, Mr. Branwell, I know what hide-and-seek is.” Said the Consul, annoyed. “Anyway, there is an issue with a group of werewolves from Bath, who are migrating to London and you’d do well to keep an eye on them in the next few weeks.”

“And why would we do that? Surely they haven’t done anything wrong in Bath.” Charlotte said.

The Consul ignored her. “It is of utmost importance you report any strange behaviors.”

“My wife asked you a question, Consul Wayland. I should think it’s important and that it should be answered.”

“Did she now?” The Consul asked, unenthusiastically.

“As a matter of fact, she did.”

“It’s alright, Henry. We’ll look into it, Consul Wayland. Thank you for the personal message.” Charlotte said, diplomatically, leading him away from the library and out the door.

The Consul paused. “Who’s child even is that?”

“A Nephilim family from Idris needed someone to watch over one of their children while they attended a funeral.” Henry said, without skipping a beat.

“Yes. Henry and I agreed to watch over this little one for the afternoon.” Charlotte said sadly. “It was the least we could do.”

“Oh, which family?”

“The Cartwrights.” Henry said.

“Oh. Well, best wishes.”

“Thank you very much.” Charlotte said. “Sophie will see you out.”

The Consul nodded and turned back around, striding out of the room with Sophie in tow.

Jem released the breath he had been holding in since Sophie brought the message about the Consul’s arrival.

“Why the Cartwrights?” he asked.

Charlotte took a fussing Will from Henry’s arms and smoothed down his hair. “Oh, yes! Henry darling that was brilliant! The Cartwrights have so many children that nobody can keep track of each one. And there actually is a funeral being held today, though I don’t suppose the Consul will look into whether they are actually there or not.”

Jem raised his eyebrows before asking, “Well, what now?”

“We keep working.” Charlotte said with a sigh.

...

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#will herondale #charlotte fairchild #henry branwell #henry fairchild #charlotte branwell #jem carstairs #sophie collins #jessamine lovelace #de-age #tsc fanfic #tid fanfiction #tid fanfic #fairwell #henry and charlotte #jem and Will #pre-clockwork angel

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