#but then isn’t it like… he’s TOO much of a carbon copy of his father???

[gothsuguru]

changed my pin bc i’m gonna be using that suguru pic for premonition of love and i don’t wanna overuse it :3

[colourstreakgryffin]

I was wondering if you can do Alastor x daughter! Reader? She’s manifested from his magic and because of that she has some of Alastor’s powers. However, she’s the complete and total opposite of him. She’s kind and sweet like Charlie, but is very shy. She never likes bringing out her true demon form for she is very terrifying. Alastor is very protective of her. Although, what if she sees Alastor get hurt by another overlord or Adam and he turns into her demon form to protect him and everyone is surprised by this and maybe even terrified of her.

OMFG. Yes! Second Alastor request in a rooowww! I love this man uncontrollably and he would be a good daddy. He’s a stag papa with his little fawn for reaaall! I love this idea, lots of loves and so much thanks for giving Hazbin Hotel more attention— or, I guess Alastor!

Father! Alastor- Hell’s Angel

Okay… Alastor wasn’t suspecting to pop a kid out of thin air when he actually wanted to pop a kid out of thin air. His magic is very powerful, no doubt but he birthed a child from solely his own powers and about 100% of his own DNA so his daughter’s features are primarily matching his own but there are some personal key differences Alastor wanted you to have to seperate yourself from him

So, you’re not a carbon copy of your dad, the Radio Demon. More just have the same deer features and red colouring

Alastor also wasn’t suspecting to have born an angel of his own. Sweet, affectionate, cheery, always smiling but smiling in a more welcoming and natural manner than her papa. He doesn’t mind it, you’re his babygirl. He loves you dearly, even after he just shat you out from literally nothing. He’s just surprised!

Well, at least Charlie loves you because you’re like… exactly what she loves and Alastor gets jealous of how well Charlie bonds with his own daughter!

Alastor has never known how to handle his own powers so when you begin manifesting voodoo dolls and portals containing all kinds of demonic beasts, he has to figure out how to get around all of it without hurting. He has a whole plan scheduled for anytime your powers trigger

Alastor’s protective, loving, clingy and carries you around a lot. He loves being able to bond with you, he likes hearing your cute deer noises when you’re trying to talk to him. He never lets you leave his sight and whilst he reframes from murder, he may just kill Vox for insulting his little fawn

Alastor now has all the full right to tell awful Dad jokes, since he is a proper Dad now. Rest in peace once again, Angel Dust

Yes. Alastor is the type to spoil his daughter. Spoil rotten, he isn’t going to stop and he isn’t sorry. He loves his little princess and no matter what, he’ll give her what she wants. If anybody dares to take what she wants from her, he’ll send them to double hell then give his babygirl extra hugs and kisses as apologises

Alastor knows, like him, you have your own full demon form and for a harmless sweetheart like yourself(that only uses your powers to help the Hotel staff). Your full form is actually terrifying and you know that, which is why you avoid it. You don’t want to scare anybody, especially not your beloved dad so you always reframe from getting too mad

Just let Papa Alastor handle anything bad. He’ll protect and care for you in the most sweet, cuddly way possible

Alastor is a lunatic, barely sane, monstrous all under a passive-aggressive, well-mannered, dapper 1930s gentleman image but when it comes to you, you’re the most healthy thing he has and he feels genuine love, care and affection for his own offspring. He only views you as his daughter, nothing else or anything exploitative. After all, he acts more like the one serving you than anything. He’ll get you whatever you want, no questions asked

Alastor wants to keep you away from threats so when Adam attacks the Hazbin Hotel. He has no choice but to leave you with Charlie. However, this didn’t last long since you knew your father was struggling when you heard his voice’s radio effect cut out. That was immediately a sign that you, not even a ten-year-old, to jump in and it caused you to rampage against Adam when you used your powers to track down and make it over to Alastor

“PRINCESS! GET AWAY FROM HERE NOW!” Alastor, despite the giant thick cut across his chest, staining his red pinstriped coat, over the white trims of his dark red lapels, yells out as loud as he can to catch his child’s attention, to get her to back off. Struggling to rise up to his feet with his tall fluffy deer-like ears pinned back. A sign of his fear, not because of seeing his babygirl in her full demon form throwing everything she has at the angel, Adam but because you’re in so much danger attacking Adam

Adam isn’t a merciful being, despite being an Angel, and the risk to your life is extremely high. Your demon form is ten times more demonic than any sinner can manifest, due to being produced by raw demonic magic, you form into a pure demonic entity

Screeching out in a menacing echoey way, entirely black and clumpy, phasing in and out like mist, shaped like a mighty Wendigo deer with literally zero resemblance to your cute little form. To you, your father’s in danger and with his cane snapped in half, his powers limited and his radio voice effect gone

You can’t just sit around in Charlie’s arms and let Alastor get killed by this psycho angel!

You have to risk everything to let Alastor escape. However, he isn’t going anywhere without you and is frantically trying to think of a way to get you away from Adam as the said holy entity keeps throwing swings after swings with his holy sharpened guitar to break off all the attacks coming from your Wendigo-style full form, letting out many strings of hateful curses at both you and Alastor. It’s clear with all the shadowy spines and green electricity shocks that you’re desperately trying to fend off the much stronger Angel to try protect your father

But if the Radio Demon himself couldn’t take on Adam for any longer than a few minutes. Of course, you don’t stand a chance, lasting half the time Alastor did. Being beaten when Adam outspeed and charged down a devestating sharp swing on your full form’s form head after you attempt to attack again. Thinking rather fast, you used your magic to cushion the blow to avoid it actually killing you

Being thrown over on the opposite end to where Alastor is and fading back into your normal demon form, a nasty big cut all down your back to the end of your fluffy deer tail, sobbing and clenching fangs

The staff watching nearby were terrified yet impressed. Impressed a child of your age and confidence was able to get that many hits on Adam and manage to guard yourself from a attack from Adam himself, getting away with merely just one cut

The Radio Demon growls frustrated and outraged at being forced to watch his child being thrown around like some doll and get even more hurt, now cornered by Adam, since it’s clear he doesn’t care to attack Alastor anymore. Thinking just as fast and getting up properly with his snapped-into-two cane in one tightening fist

Alastor phases through into the shadows in an almost melting fashion, dragging you down with him in the same shadowy engulfing manner by a single black trail travelling over to where you laid, leaving the bloodthirsty human ancestor as the victor of this fight. Needless to say, Alastor was so pissed. Pissed he lost the fight when he had managed to get many hits on Adam at the first section of the fight and pissed that said Angel dared to put his hands on his angel

At least… you’re safe now. Bleeding, hurt, crying and tired from overworking yourself whilst laid in Alastor’s arms, but you’re alive and okay. In your father’s hold and safe. Away from the Hotel and protected by the Voodoo’s shadowy magic

“You’re okay, darling… you’re okay. Papa’s got you, he’s always got you”

[loulovingho]

Just thinking about Tommy Kinard who grew up wishing he was hugged and loved like the neighbors kids were. He’d watch them run off the school bus and right into their mom or dad’s arms and be scooped up and held tight. Sometimes he could smell freshly baked cookies or a pot roast coming from their home as he’d turn the key and walk into his own house. His house where his dad would grunt at him for another beer and tell him to fix them both a frozen dinner (“just don’t eat my Salisbury steak, boy, that one’s mine”). Then one afternoon, when his dad caught him staring out the window at the neighbors all outside playing catch, he gave him a smack on the back of the head and told him to stop daydreaming. Those people were phonies who were never up to any good. Families like that don’t really exist, and they’re never as happy as they seem!

So Tommy buries away the idea he’ll have that. Stops watching the neighbors. Rolls his eyes when he does happen to catch one of their hugs. Grows a bit of a hardened shell.

Then he reaches high school and he thinks things will change now. He’ll have more freedom and friends and maybe he’ll join a club. But his dad tells him clubs are for sissies and he’s gonna be in sports instead. His dad is good friends with the football coach so he doesn’t have to try out. He’s just on the team, whether he likes it or not. And the other guys on the team are crude and constantly taunt and tease each other. Tommy doesn’t join in at first, would rather keep to himself, but that makes him an outcast and a loser and the butt of all their jokes so it’s easier to join in. His shell gets a little thicker.

Recruiters come to the school during his senior year and his grades are good, he could probably get a scholarship or two to a state university, but they promise so much. He’ll get to see the world! They have all these specialized programs he can choose from. They pay well and he’ll have the benefits forever. Most importantly, he’ll be away from his dad. The recruiter doesn’t have to work very hard that day. When Tommy leaves for basic he’s a little scared but mostly excited to be away! And the drill sergeants yell at him and taunt him just like the football team, just like his dad, but he can take it. He can and does prove them wrong.

He’s been wondering things about himself lately. Doesn’t let himself wonder very long though, or his heart races a bit too fast and he panics. There was this one time at basic where he had a moment alone and he jerked himself off but he didn’t use the Playboy magazines the other guys had hidden under their bunks. He thinks of Tyler instead. The guy who was in the bunk above him and had tan skin and muscles all over and a million dollar smile. When he was done, after he caught his breath, he got angry with himself. Put a fist through a wall and got in a good amount of trouble. But the other guys thought he did it because he wanted to show the sergeant how strong he was. They thought it was funny and kinda cool. Even later, as a pilot in Iraq, when he has a moment alone, he’s never thinking about a woman. His shell thickens more.

Then he’s out of the army and he’s becoming a firefighter and he thinks maybe this is when he can relax. So he goes and meets his captain, someone named Vincent Gerrard, and he can tell within thirty seconds of meeting him that this man is a carbon copy of his father. He hasn’t been the butt of a joke in a long time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start back now, so he plays the game. And he plays it damn well.

These shells keep thickening and thickening until he’s not actually sure who he is anymore. He’s spent years being whoever he needs to be to survive and it’s becoming exhausting. Even when Gerrard leaves and Nash arrives, even when his smile actually starts to reach his eyes, he still feels wrong. So he makes a choice. He leaves.

He goes back to flying, which he loved in the army. The freedom of being in the sky was unlike anything else in life. He hears a coworker talk about therapy and he gives it a try. It’s uncomfortable and stressful but he goes back each week and yeah, okay, maybe it does help. He can feel his posture relaxing a bit at least.

He allows himself to be honest with himself. He looks in the mirror one night and takes a deep breath and says the words “I’m gay” for the first time and then he repeats it over and over and over again even as tears fall down his face.

All the shells are starting to crack.

He gets a call from Howie, who he would do anything for without question, and this particular ask gets him reacquainted with Hen, renewed friendship with Howie, a new friendship with Eddie, and a boyfriend with Evan.

Evan. Evan who meets Tommy at the door whenever he’s there, arms open and a smile on his face, ready to hold onto Tommy like it’s his job. There’s usually delicious food cooking that Tommy can smell from the driveway. Evan, who picks up Christopher or Jee and they head to the park or museum for an outing. Evan, who notices that Tommy really likes to draw so he joins a drawing club for the both of them and even though Evan himself is not great at drawing he’s always so excited for them to go together.

Evan, whose kisses linger on his body like a prayer. Whose touch burns his skin in the best way. Who gasps and grunts and grabs and whispers in his ear as their sweaty, muscular bodies practically meld into one. There’s laughter and smiles afterward, as they hold onto each other and fall asleep pressed against one another.

Evan, who makes loving easy to do. Who gives his whole heart and then some. Who breaks whatever was left of Tommy’s shell and makes him realize that the type of love he wanted all those years ago, even as a little kid, was real. It was possible. And he had it.

[eideticmemory]

BABY DADDY | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

A one night stand leads to much, much more than either of you bargained for.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warning/Includes: BabyDaddy!Matthew, duh!!! Smut Lite™️.

So, the thing about babies is that they don’t really give a fuck about context. They truly couldn’t care less about what you’re doing, what’s happening in your life, your goals, your dreams, your ambitions. It’s all irrelevant. They will show up anyway. And what the little clump of cells in your uterus has failed to realize is that you do not know their father. At all.

Seriously.

You know him biblically. Obviously. You’ve shared drinks and a bed. You’ve seen him naked. He’s seen you naked. You’ve spent, maybe, an hour and a half together total. And you spent the majority of that time making the conscious decision to leave together, undress and fuck. You’re pretty sure the last thing you said to him was, “Safe travels.” As in, I don’t want to see you again. As in, If all goes well, I should never have to see you again.

You used a condom. You’re not dumb, you used a condom. So when weeks passed by and your period was late, you didn’t think anything of it. It happens. Sometimes periods are just late.

But it never came.

You bought the pregnancy test just to be safe. In fact, you were so sure that you were playing it safe that you didn’t take it for another three days. Pushing it back and back, hoping your period would come.

It didn’t.

So you squatted over the toilet and got a good amount of pee on the thing and waited two minutes just for it to stare you directly in the eye and say: FUCK YOU, DUMB BITCH. YOU’RE PREGNANT.

Okay, it just said pregnant. But that’s what went through your head. Your knees buckled and you grabbed your stomach, almost like you could feel the thing just hanging out in there. You doubled over, thinking you were going to puke, but you didn’t. You eye the test again and then, out of pure nerves, you puke.

You buy two more tests. They call you a dumb bitch again, just a little louder. You want a bottle of wine but you don’t have one because you’re pregnant. You want a lighter and a goddamn cigarette but you don’t have one because you don’t even smoke and you’re pregnant.

You sit down for lunch with your friend and it’s the first time you say these words out loud.

She yells, “You’re what?”

Pregnant!

You give her this look that says please don’t make me say it again and she doesn’t. She heard you very well the first time.

“W-wh-what…��� she trembles. Shaking, like she’s the one knocked up. “What? H-how…what? who’s the daddy?”

You sigh, cut your eyes up at her, and her jaw drops, stuttering, “O-oh…no…no…[y/n]…no.”

“It’s gotta be him. He’s the last guy I had sex with. I had gotten my period before then. Now, no period, three positive pregnancy tests.”

“Three?” she shouts. “Oh, so you’re pregnant pregnant?”

“Yeah, I took three just to be sure and they all told me to go kill myself. So.”

“Oh my god…” she shudders. “Oh my god? Oh my…” and she chugs her glass of wine in one big gulp. It looks good.

“What are you going to do?” she asks you.

You shrug, your mind made up, “I’m keeping it.”

“What?”

“Okay, you need to quiet down now before we get kicked out of here.”

“What do you mean keeping it? As in, giving birth? As in, raising a child?”

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“O…kay…and the baby daddy?”

You shrug, “What about him?”

“I-“ she slams her hands down. “[y/n].”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

“Why would I? I have a house and a job and insurance and a 401K, I can take care of my kid.”

“Well, yeah…but it’s…his kid, too? Why-why are you keeping it if you’re not gonna tell him?”

“Because I want a baby. I don’t know. I-I thought about…getting it sucked out of there, but I don’t wanna. I want a baby. I want a kid. And yeah, this…isn’t the conventional way of doing that, but I never much saw myself with a husband anyway.”

“So…what’s the plan? Matthew’s just walking down the street one day and a little carbon copy of him comes out of the shadows saying ooh, aah, look at me! I’m the love child you unintentionally abandoned 10 years ago! That’s fucked.”

“What if he doesn’t care? What if he wants to abandon the kid? What if we’re on the same page?”

“Then at least give him the option.”

“Ugh.”

“[y/n], just give him the option. What? You can gargle his cock in your mouth but you can’t have a conversation? You need to tell him.”

“Okay…” you roll your eyes.

“And whatever the outcome, he stills owes you money. He stills owes some type of financial support, whether you want it or not.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Whatever. Look, I work with him when he’s in town, okay? I see him, I have to interact with him, I can’t hold on to this and I can’t be the one to tell him. [y/n]…please…”

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

You huff, “Okay. Fine.”

“Okay. You have his number?”

“No.”

“Classy,” she quips as she scrolls through her phone and you roll your eyes, “Okay, I’m airdropping it to you now.”

His contact comes through to your phone and you only stare at it long enough to accept and then you plant the device face down on the table. You suck back an anxious gulp of water and fidget with your hands, “This is your fault, you know?”

“What? How?”

“You’re the one that introduced us. At that launch party or whatever. What was that even about?”

“It was the launch party for a new production company and fuck you, you whore. I didn’t force you to go and get yourself knocked up. That was all you, Matthew and those free shots.”

“Oh, please, you practically threw us together.”

“Yeah, well, sue me, I thought you guys would hit it off,” she shrugs. “Not quite this much, but…”

The two of you sit in silence, looking around the restaurant, picking at your food.

“So,” she pips.

Your eyes flicker up at her.

“How was it?” she smirks. “Worth a baby?”

You let a long sigh, shaking your head with a very violent roll of your eyes, “Honestly…yeah…”

So far, pregnancy doesn’t suck. You’re still early, still not showing. There’s been no nausea or bloating. The insomnia, however, is getting ridiculous. You’re normally the type of girl to crash in bed as soon as possible, knocked out the moment your head hits the pillow. It is now midnight and your eyes are wide open, unable to relax. You check everything possible off of your to-do list, even scheduling your first obstetrician appointment. The only thing you haven’t done is call Matthew, having had his number sitting in your phone for close to a week now. To make it worse, all you want is a cinnamon roll. But not just any cinnamon roll. One from the late night bakery down the street. This is especially dangerous because you know very well that they are still open and somewhere out there is a cinnamon roll with your name on it. It would be nuts to leave the warmth of your bed right now, walk a mile in the dead of night, just for a cinnamon roll.

But you’re going to.

You bundle up and head out into the summer night, looking completely insane. Hoodie, sweats, tattered sneakers built for walking down the New York City sidewalks. It’s not far and you walk fast, faster than normal tonight because the craving is just that strong. You make it in all of ten minutes and within five more, you have the box cracked open and are tearing a piece off with your bare hands.

You look up for merely a second and your eyes catch him immediately. Now, you’re tired. Your blood sugar’s just shot up but you’re pretty sure it’s him. Posing for a picture with a fan. Tall. Beautiful. Smiling. His eyes land on you and he excuses himself, throws up a wave. You jump, looking around, contemplating running. But, yeah. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. By the time you stop fidgeting, he’s standing over you and you’re trapped.

“Hi!” he greets you. “Hi, [y/n], how are you?”

You wipe frosting from your mouth and chuckle, more caught off guard by his remembering your name than anything. You cough, “Hi. Matthew, hi. I’m good. I’m doing good. How are you?”

“Good! Just heading home.”

“Oh! Oh, you have a place in New York?”

“Yeah, near the park, just a few blocks over. You live around here?”

“Uh…” you did not know this so you’re forcing your brain to catch up. “Uh, yeah, yeah. About a block over, just… couldn’t sleep. Wanted a cinnamon roll.”

“Looks good,” he giggles. “You look good.”

“Oh, you’re full of shit,” you smile.

“No! No, I mean it. You look great. I love the cinnamon roll run outfit. Honestly.”

You blush, you don’t mean to, but you blush. “Well, thank you. You look good, too.” He does. You can tell he’s just leaving somewhere because he’s dressed up and you suddenly remember very vividly how you ended up pregnant.

“Aw, thank you. I appreciate that…” his eyes scan over you. “Where did you say you live? Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

You want to shout No! Thank you! and run. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Why not? Still, you say, “Yes. Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so the two of you stroll down the empty sidewalks together, he does most of the talking. You can hear it in his voice that he’s flirting. You’ve heard it before. It has been successful, with you, before. Yet, you’re too busy this time around trying not to puke. He walks you to your door and you notice your cinnamon roll has gone cold in your hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles. “We should get together again, if you’re up for it.”

You nod, “Mhm. Yeah. That sounds nice. Um, I’ll give you my number.” He instantly pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it over. He’s serious. You type your name and number in and hand it back, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Perfect,” his fingers linger on yours as he takes his phone back. “I’ll call you. Hey, could I use your bathroom? I pee fast so I won’t inconvenience you too long.”

No!

You snicker, “Yeah…” you start to unlock the door. “Of course. Sorry in advance, it’s a little messy.”

“Oh, a little mess doesn’t scare me,” he laughs.

You let him in and point out the bathroom and as soon as he disappears, closes the door behind him, you release the breath that’s been trapped in your chest and plop down on the couch. “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The toilet flushes and then there’s a loud bang from the bathroom and you snap back to reality. “Matthew?” you call. “You alright in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he calls in response. “Just kicked over your trash can. Sorry!”

“That’s okay!” you reply. You relax.

It is definitely not okay.

You hop up and sprint to the bathroom door. You don’t even knock, you just burst into the bathroom where Matthew is picking up the spilled trash. Your eyes instantly land on the pregnancy tests and you can’t do anything but stand in wait.

When he notices them, he laughs. Not a cackle, but a soft giggle, almost silly, “You pregnant or something?” he asks. It’s a joke. He’s making a joke.

He looks at your face. It’s not a joke.

He stops laughing. He stops smiling. You’ve never seen someone’s entire being go so pale.

“Oh, you’re…” he stutters. “You’re…” he breathes. “Is it mine?”

You can hardly look him in the eye but you do and you nod.

“How long have you known?”

You gulp, “Like…a week. I haven’t been to the doctor or anything.”

“Are you…” you can see his chest heaving. “Are you serious?”

You nod, “Yes.”

He looks around the bathroom, wobbling on his heels and you worry he’s going to pass out. Instead, he slams the toilet seat down and sits on it, falls on it. “What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m…” you clear your throat. “Keeping it.”

“Oh.” he says. “You don’t...you’re not…”

“No. I don’t want that.”

And this is where his words became jumbled. Mumbled. Barely incoherent. He, himself, cannot even figure out what he’s trying to say.

“Look,” you interrupt him. “You don’t have to be involved, okay? You don’t even need to be on the birth certificate. I can handle this. I will handle this. If you wanna drop me a couple hundreds bucks every month and call it a day, that’s fine. If you don’t? Also fine. But I need to know because we’re…not…confusing this kid, okay? So, you need to be all in or all out.”

“Are you...” he cuts his eyes up at you and then promptly rises to his feet. “I can’t do this right now.”

You’re so dumbfounded as he rushes past you that your brain doesn’t even fully process it until he’s almost out the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have to clear my head. I-I have to get out of here.”

“Uh, okay...” he closes the door in your face. “Bye…”

And in the wake of all this exciting, suddenly surrounded by silence and cut tension, you remember your cinnamon roll. You want it after all.

When your friend asks if you’ve told Matthew, you say, “Yes.”

“Oh, shit. You called him?”

“No.” And you have to explain. You have to explain every awkward, uncomfortable, terrible second.

“And I haven’t heard from him since,” you shrug.

“Really?”

You nod.

She sighs, “Wow…fuck him.”

“Fuck him.”

And you meant that. You’re content with that. You feel like you can move on. Prepare, nest, move forward. Then he calls you. Out of nowhere. His name pops up on your phone and silences the music that had been playing while you took a bath. You stare at the screen for a long time, wondering if it’s best to protect your peace. It is. But still, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, [y/n]?” he clears his throat. “It’s Matthew.”

“Matthew,” you sigh. “Hi.”

“Hey, um, when is your first doctor’s appointment? Has that passed already?”

“Um…” you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely confused. “No. It’s on the twenty-sixth. At Aster on the upper west side. Eleven o’clock.”

Silence.

Then, he says, “Okay…okay, I’ll be there.”

You shrug, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You arrive at 10:45. You do not expect him to show up, like truly expect him to show up. So when he comes walking into the waiting room, your heart genuinely stops. You cross and uncross your legs, shuffling in your seat.

“Hi,” you whisper, with very minimal eye contact.

“Hi.”

The nurse calls your name and Matthew follows you into the examination room, taking a seat beside you. The technician asks you a series of questions about your last period, your symptoms, your health history and Matthew hears none of it.

“And are you dad?” she asks him.

He feels like he’s going to throw up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

You roll your eyes and luckily, this kind woman cuts the tension pretty quickly. She slathers this cold gel on your belly and presses the wand to your skin and the heartbeat picks up immediately.

“Oh, wow, strong heartbeat already!” she grins at you. But you can’t take your eyes off the monitor. Matthew either. “You’re right around ten weeks so there’s the little head and you can see their arms and legs starting to form here.”

You can. You can really see it. There’s a baby in there. Barely. But a baby! You look at Matthew and his look of pure terror mirrors yours. It’s kind of comforting.

The nurse wipes you off and says, “So your estimated due date is March 10th, but again, that’s just an estimate so take it with a grain of salt because babies tend to follow their own schedule. You’re looking at anywhere from two to three days before or after.”

“Holy shit,” Matthew swears. “That’s the day after my birthday.”

“Is it really?” you tilt your head and at this, the nurse is dumbfounded. At this, Matthew is completely silenced.

You ask for two separate copies of the ultrasound and the technician has gotten over the shock. She’s not going to question it anymore, not going to give it any thought. Let you two sort it out.

As you stand outside afterwards, twiddling your thumbs, unsure of what to say or what to do, he asks, “Are you hungry? Can I take you to lunch?”

You cross your arms, wanting to say no. Wanting to lie. Instead you sigh, “Yes,” you nod. “Yes, please. I’m fucking starving.”

So he takes you to a cafe down the street where you order possibly the biggest burger even seen and fries and a cup of veggies and a piece of cake. It’s awkward, silent, and he just watches you eat. Almost like he can’t wrapped his head around it. You come up for air and catch his gaze.

“Hey,” you swallow. “Don’t look at me crazy. You’ve never had something in your body competing for resources.”

He chuckles, “No judgement. Eat what you want.”

“That was my plan.”

He picks at his food for a few moments and then sighs, “So…how…how are we gonna do this?”

You would ask for more context but you don’t need it. You know exactly what he means. You shrug, “I don’t know…” you shrug again. “I don’t know, just…do the best we can, I guess?”

He nods, “Yeah. Yeah, that always seems to work for everyone else.”

September | 14 Weeks

The deal is that Matthew will come in every four weeks for your appointments. This is what he agrees to, but you’re not convinced it will happen. But your next appointment rolls around and you’re shocked to walk in and find he’s beat you there. This time, he sees you and he smiles. His eyes scan over your figure as you take a seat, he goes, “Oh, you’re…you’re kinda starting to…”

You glance down at your tiny baby bump and you have this weird urge all the time to touch it so you do. “Oh. Yeah. I finally had to start telling people at work. They made me a registry.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What…what do you need me to get? What does a baby need?”

“God, dude, too much shit, I swear. Plus, I don’t even know what I want to dress her in. There’s like a million different brands and they all look the same or are made from spider silk or something stupid. I don’t know.”

He tilts his head at you, “Her? You think it’s a girl?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I don’t think we can find out just yet anyway but, maybe?”

This little grin appears on his face and he almost reaches in to your bump, but he doesn’t. He shuffles in his seat, clears his throat, “A girl would be nice.”

You smile, “I think so, too.”

You both get your updated ultrasounds to go and the technician is greatful to not feel so suffocated this time. The energy around the two of you has shifted. Not much. You’re still strangers and it shows. But it’s different. You smile, you joke around, Matthew speaks up, asks questions.

It’s different.

At the end of the appointment, he asks you, “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Oh…” you’re caught off guard. “No. Why?”

“I was wondering if you might want to come over? For dinner maybe?”

“Oh.”

“Nothing…weird. I just…want you to know where I live and…I don’t know, I thought we could just talk.”

“Um. Okay. Okay. Send me your address.”

“Okay. I will.”

And so because you reluctantly agreed, you show up at his doorstep at six o’clock sharp. You’re not dressed up or anything, but it’s starting to get cold and you just threw on this big puffy jacket.

He opens the door and greets you with a bright smile, saying, “Hey, you. Come in.”

“Thanks,” you meekly walk in and instantly look around his place and oh, it’s fucking gorgeous. Comforting. Because you can’t have a baby with someone who lacks interior design skills.

“Are you still craving chinese? I got us a fuck ton.”

“Oh, my god,” you sigh in relief, smelling the food, instantly plopping down at the kitchen table. “Oh, my god, yes, thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles.

You look around and notice the ultrasounds on his fridge, staring at them as he sets up a plate for you.

He takes a seat beside you and takes a bite of his food, then asking, “So, where are you from?”

It catches you off guard so you laugh, “What?”

“Where are you from? What’s your family like? Where’d you go to school?”

“Um, okay…what…you interrogating me?”

He laughs, “No. No, sorry. I just…uh, I wanna get to know you better, that’s all. You can ask me anything you wanna know, too.”

“Hm,” you nod. “Okay.” And you spill your guts.

You wrap your life up in a nutshell and it becomes this rapid game of back and forth about whose parents did this and how many siblings do you have and who was your first crush. Who’s your best friend. Who’s the last person you dated. Tell me about all the people you’ve dated!

Your baby daddy is kind of a slut, but, honestly, who are you to judge?

He’s funny. As far as you can tell, he’s honest. He doesn’t have or want to hide anything from you. What’s the point?

“So, um,” he says. “Why don’t I make you a drink and give you a little tour? Oh, wait, you…”

“Can’t drink,” you nod. “Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I have sparkling cider.”

“Bleh.”

“Sparkling water?”

“Bleh.”

“I…orange juice?” he laughs but you’re dead serious.

“That sounds so fucking good right now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “Okay, you got it.”

And so, with your cup of orange juice, you follow him around his home. You see his bedroom, his office, and in the corner of the house, an empty room where he proclaims, “This will be the little guy’s room. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet, but definitely something.”

It’s beautiful. Lots of natural light but he says he’s already started looking at blackout curtains. “And then in my room,” he adds as you walk by. “I’ll have one of those little beside bassinet things, y’know? Just until he gets a little bigger.”

You look up at him with this sober look. You stumble around until you find somewhere to put your glass down and he asks, “You alright?”

You turn back to him and almost immediately jump into his arms, mouth open, a whole growing human between the of you, but still you are close. But still, you are kissing.

“Woah…” he huffs. “W-what…what are you…”

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “It’s nothing personal. I’ve just got a lot of blood rushing to a lot of different places and w-what?” you stutter because he’s caressing your face. “Y’know, it’s not like you can get me pregnant. It’s more like a…a favor?”

His eyes scan over your face and he nods, scoops you up in his arms like it’s nothing. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” and he carries you into his bedroom.

October | 18 Weeks

The greeting this week is different. In the past few weeks, there’s been a lot more casual texting. A lot of Matthew asking: Hey, how are you feeling today? Do you need anything? Do you have groceries? You appreciate it.

He walks into the waiting room a few minutes after you and you actually stand to say hi.

“Hi, you!” he pips and he gives you a big hug. This time, he is not so shy and he takes a hold of your bump in both his hands, leaning down to say, “Hi, you! What are you doing in there? Woah!”

“Ah,” you groan. “Yeah, kicking the shit out of me. lately. Don’t get her riled up.”

But he pokes at your belly again and those legs come back swinging. He laughs, “Oh, my god, that’s so cool!”

“Yeah, not so much when it’s the middle of the night and it’s directly on your bladder.”

“Oof. Sorry, I should be stern,” he leans down. “Knock it off, kid.” And the kid kicks back.

“Oh! Jesus. Okay, that was…bad. Keep practicing.”

He cackles, “I will.”

In the exam room, the technician asks, “Do you wanna know the gender?” The smile on her face tells you that she already knows.

And as you shout an enthusiastic, “Yes!” Matthew is shaking his head, saying, “No.”

And then there’s silence.

“What…” you chuckle. “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I kinda just wanna be surprised.”

“Hm…” you furrow your eyebrows. You turn to the technician, “Well, I wanna know, will you put it in an envelope for me?”

This envelope is hand delivered to you at the end of your appointment and you hold it tight in your hands all the way out the door. You tear into it as soon as you step outside and Matthew shouts, “Wait!”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know! Open it when you’re alone.”

“Okay…” you shrug, putting the envelope in your purse.

The two of you stand there, silent, avoiding eye contact.

“Fine, open it,” he says.

“What?” you laugh. “I thought you didn’t wanna know?”

“I don’t! I don’t. But-but you should know. Open it.”

You roll your eyes at him and take the envelope out of your bag, breaking the seal, flipping it open and showing absolutely no emotion. You rise and fall from the tip of your toes, biting down on your lip.

“Oh, c’mon!” he groans. “What is it? What is it? What is it? Just tell me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You positive?”

“[y/n]…” he whines.

You chuckle and turn the paper around to face him and his entire expression goes blank.

“A boy?” he whispers. Followed by, “Oh, my god, a boy!” Then, “A boy?” Finally, “A boy…”

You giggle and nod, “A boy.”

Halloween falls on a work day, after which you immediately come home to take a nap. You awake to find missed calls and texts from Matthew, the last of which reads: I’m coming over. You see this just before he rings your doorbell.

You answer and flinch, caught off guard by his costume. His makeup, the whole thing. “Oh…” you say. “You did say you were weird about Halloween.”

“Um, I don’t know if weird is the word I used but…here! For you,” he hands you a bag full of candy and you laugh, taking it from him.

“Thank you.”

“And…also, for you,” and he hands you a pumpkin.

“Oh! Thanks?”

“It’s the exact same weight as the baby. Weighed it myself.”

And your heart just kind of melts. “Aw…that’s so cute…” you hold the thing in your hands and look down at it. “Wow, what? No fucking way that’s in there.” you say in disbelief, holding the pumpkin level with your belly.

The two of you burst into laughter and Matthew sighs, happily exclaming, “Yeah, that’s him.”

November | 22 Weeks

Before your next appointment, Matthew calls you to ask if you’ll spend Thanksgiving with him in Vegas.

“Y’know, I told my family and-and they were…y’know shocked. But, they wanna meet you. I’m sure you already have plans but if you don’t…I’d really love it if you came with me.”

You sit in silence for a second. “I…I don’t have plans. I’ll go.”

“Really?”

“Oh, did you…want me to say no?”

“No,” he laughs. “No. I just thought you would. Um, well, okay, cool! Cool. I’ll book the flight.”

“Okay. Cool.”

Matthew meets you at your place the day before Thanksgiving, greeting you with a hug and a kiss on your belly. “Hey, you ready?”

“Yeah…” you grumble. “I’m all packed, just tired.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Ha…ha…no, thanks.”

“I’m so dead serious. I’ve been lifting weights, gotta train to carry a baby around.”

“I’m telling you, this fucker is heavy.”

He laughs, “Yeah, he looks it already. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Um…” you sigh. “Can you just carry my bags?”

“[y/n].” He looks you in the eye. “I was going to do that anyway.”

You get sick on the plane and the flight attendant gives you ice to chew and a cold rag for your forehead. Matthew is constantly rubbing your leg and fanning you with the safety booklet.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry. What can I do?” he asks.

“Will you be the pregnant one for a little bit?”

“Yes, if that’s what you need.”

His face is serious and you can’t help but laugh, “Fuck you.”

As you drive through the desert, you have to keep your eyes closed to feel peace. You only open them when the car slows down and you arrive at the house.

“Oh, by the way,” Matthew says as he shuts the car off. “My family thinks we’re together. Like dating.”

Your eyes goes wide and you shoot up in your seat, “What? What?” you yell.

“Look, look, I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to say!”

“Uh, how about I got a little too drunk and horny on a Friday night and put a baby in someone? You don’t lie! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I…ugh! I’m sorry. I know, I know. I will tell them the truth, but not right now. [y/n], please.”

“No.”

“[y/n]…”

“No. Fuck you! How could you wait until we get here to tell me that bullshit? You’re insane!”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry, let’s just, please go inside and I will fix it.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna go inside now. You pissed me off.”

“Oh, my…” he huffs. “[y/n], please.”

“No!” you cross your arms. “I’m staying in the car.”

Just then, his mom comes rushing out the house, waving to you both from the front door and you have to put on a smile very quickly.

“I will tell them,” he whispers.

“Oh, you fucking better,” you sneer, still smiling. “Or I will.”

You play along as you’re introduced to everyone. You tell them about yourself. You show them the most recent ultrasound, you pig out on all the food just laying around and somehow, along the way, you forget why you were mad.

Until you retire to bed and they have you and Matthew set up in one room. Then, you are pissed all, over, again.

You rush into the shower to avoid him and when you come back out, he’s laying in the bed.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No. I’m sorry. I will.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Matthew.”

“[y/n]-“

“Matthew!”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell them now.”

“Yeah.”

Still, he lays there. “I…I pulled out your maternity pillow. All ready for you.”

“Get out the damn bed,” you grumble and he’s up before you lay down. And worse, he just stands there.

You roll over from your side, looking at him. He’s looking at you and his face pisses you off so you shout, “Matthew!”

“Okay!” and he leaves the room.

He comes back in after you’ve fallen asleep but still, half awake, you ask, “Did you tell them?” and you don’t even question it when he lays beside you, cradles you in his arms.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good.”

And you fall asleep just like that.

Thanksgiving goes well, despite the recent news. You practically clear the table yourself because you’re eating for two and one of you is much greedier than the other. You meet Matthew’s dad, who spends the entire evening lulling you into security just to later pull the two of you into a separate room.

Here, the conversation gets legal. And while you were not expecting it, you’re grateful. You hadn’t thought of any of this. Custody, exchange schedules, schools, primary addresses, out-of-state trips. All of it.

His dad finally asks, “And what last name will the baby be taking?”

You say, “[y/l/n],” as Matthew says, “Oh, Gubler, for sure.” And the two of you just slowly turn to look at each other.

“Oh…” he dad says. “You two should probably discuss.”

That discussion lasts well into the night. Through the drive to the airport. Through the flight.

By the time you land, you’ve compromised. You’ll hyphenate.

December | 26 Weeks

Your next appointment is just over a week before Christmas. Matthew agrees then to spend Christmas Eve with you. Your family comes into New York just to keep you from flying yourself. When they arrive, your home is cluttered with boxes and pieces of the crib and a dismantled bassinet and bottles and boxes of diapers and wipes. Your baby shower was a huge success. You and baby boy want for nothing. But you’re big, you’re stressed, you’re aching and you can’t stop crying.

“Baby, let us put the nursery together for you,” you mom suggests.

“No. No, we’ll do it. It’s fine. I want to do it.”

“Okay. Speaking of, is your baby daddy gonna be here any time soon?”

“Yeah, he’s on the way.”

And as if on queue, Matthew walks in and everyone exclaims, “Hey! Baby daddy!”

Your sibling walks up to him immediately and says, “Love Criminal Minds, dude,” and you put your face in your hands.

Matthew gets everything stuffed into the nursery just for now so there’s more space for everyone to move around. He helps your mom with dinner and he doesn’t mind when they poke and prode into his life.

“So, baby daddy, what part of New York are you in?”

“So, baby daddy, is this your first kid?”

“So, baby daddy, do you think you might propose to [y/n] someday?”

“Baby daddy, what’s your net worth?”

And this is not an exaggeration. By the end of the night, he responds to baby daddy like it’s his actual government name and he confesses to you that it makes him uncomfortable.

Standing on your balcony, he wraps a blanket around you and rubs your shoulders, “Y’know, I understand the terminology, definitely. But…damn.”

You cackle, “Well..you are my baby daddy. We’re having a baby together, but were not together, but we have sex sometimes. It fits. Hey, I’m your baby mama!”

“Aw, well…” he sighs. “Thats sweet.” And he grins at you as you burst into laughter.

Your family leaves to stay at a hotel and Matthew stays to make sure you’re okay. You’re pretty fucking exhausted to be honest. So he tucks you into bed and runs his hand over your hair, “You need anything?”

“No. Just sleep.”

“Okay,” he touches your belly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you wake up in the morning, your first thought is that you need to eat. You remember some sugar cookies that your mom had brought by last night and you decide to have them for breakfast. You walk to the kitchen and passing by the nursery, you almost don’t notice. Then, you stop in your tracks, tilt your head and walk backwards.

It’s done.

It’s done!

The crib is built, the dresser and changing table are assembled, the mobile’s up and running, the rocking chair is in the corner. Even the wall art you picked out is hanging up.

“Wh-what…” you stutter and then you march to the living room where Matthew is passed out on the couch. “Matthew!” you shout. Still, he doesn’t wake. So you rush over and shake him, going, “Matthew! Matthew!” and he jolts awake.

“What?” he takes hold of your hands. “What? Are you okay? Are you alright?”

“Yes. What…what the hell did you do?”

“What do you mean?” he rasps. “Oh…the nursery? Do you like it?”

“Do I…” you cut yourself off and run back to the nursery, where you wander around the room unable to focus your attention on just one thing.

Matthew follows behind you and watches you from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?”

“It’s…” you gleam. “Exactly like my pinterest board.”

“Of course it’s exactly like your pinterest board, I’m not insane!” he laughs.

You feel this peace wash over you and you hug your baby bump as you breathe out a slow exhale. You turn to him with a smile and he thinks you’re running to give him a hug. So when you all but tackle him, take him a kiss, push him to the floor, tear off his clothes, it all happens so fast.

When it’s over, you have no bottoms on and your head is laying on his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably stop attacking you like that.”

He chuckles, “No. Don’t. I don’t mind.”

January | 30 Weeks

Your appointments are every two weeks now. This is the time you expected Matthew to miss at least one, but he never does. He’s always there. Even when he’s not with you, he’s always there.

When your insomnia is at its very worst, he facetimes you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” he smiles at the screen. “I knew you’d be up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Insomnia still kicking your ass?”

“Every night this past week.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, honey,” he frowns. “But since you’re up, I thought we could talk baby names?”

“Oh,” you say. You had forgotten about that. “Oh…right…names.”

“I know, we kinda dropped the ball on that one,” he laughs. “Now, it’s kinda a Gubler tradition that all the boys have the middle name Gray. Y’know, alliteration and all.”

“Oh..that’s…” Boring, you think. “Unoriginal. Can we compromise?”

“Well, I’m already compromising with the hypenating so I don’t know.”

“Oh, good g-“ you roll your eyes. “Sir, you hyphenated like 7 months ago, let it go.” And he lets it go. You add, “I like the name Lincoln. Link.”

“Ooh, no. He used to bully me in school. What about Silas?”

“Yeah, cause he’s a vampire? Veto. I like Noah.”

“Cause he’s building an arc? Veto!”

“Ugh.”

“What about Simon? Y’know I voiced him in the movie.”

You roll your eyes, again. “Yes. We know. Veto.”

Silence falls over the call as you both rack your brains for another suggestion. And like a domino, it naturally falls into your mind, “Theodore?” you shrug.

Matthew smiles, “Teddy?”

“Aw!” you squeal. “Teddy Gray…” you say aloud and then a tear falls from your eye and then you’re full blown sobbing in front of the camera. “Teddy Gray, that’s it. That’s his name.”

And Matthew is freaked out because he’s never seen you cry before. Ever. Not at the doctor, not in the nursery, he’s never had the pleasure of meeting your hormones face to face quite like this. “Yeah…” he chokes out a sob. “That’s it,” he wipes his eyes. “Fuck, why am I crying?”

“Oh, why would you be, you fucking freak?” you shout and he thinks it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.

Suddenly, your doorbell rings and it silences you, scares you. “What the fuck?” you whisper. “Is that you?”

“Nope. I had something delivered.”

“What? Right now?”

“Just a little cinnamon roll and a milkshake, but I can tell them to leave if you don’t want it?”

“Oh, my god,” you rush out of bed and immediately waddle to the door, “You’re amazing. I wanna have your baby.”

February | 34 Weeks

Your customized pillows and blankets have come in the mail. They all say Teddy and his baby book says it too. It is perfect. It’s your son. At your last appointment, he weighed about 7 pounds and you certainly feel every ounce weighing you down.

But for Teddy, it’s worth it.

For now, you’re still going to work and taking an afternoon nap for survival. Matthew jokes all the time that you can quit your job whenever you’d like. That he can take care of you both, just say the word. That was never the deal, but you appreciate it.

When you arrive home on Valentine’s Day, you’re just getting settled when your doorbell rings. You look through the peep hole and the delivery man is holding the largest vase of roses you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he greets you. “[y/n] [y/l/n]?”

“Yes,” you nod and take the roses in your arms. “Thank you.”

He hands you a tiny bag and you carry everything inside, setting them down on the table.

“One more thing,” he tells you and when you turn around, it is a teeny, tiny vase of snipped roses. The vase is personalized with the name Teddy.

“Aw,” you want to cry but you can’t do it in front of this random man. So only when he leaves, you let the tears fall and you set Teddy’s vase near in the window in his room. You leave your flowers on the living room table and take a small jewelry box out of the bag. Inside, are the most gorgeous pair of ruby pendant earrings and you audibly gasp.

The card accompanying it all reads: Sorry I can’t be with you and Teddy today, but I’m thinking about you both. I’m always thinking about you.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby mama!!

M

March | 37 Weeks

“Any day now, [y/n],” your doctor beams, rolling the wand around on your belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you nod. “Excited. Scared. I didn’t give it much thought about how I was gonna get him out of there.”

Her and Matthew laugh, Matthew holding your hand like it’s No Big Deal.

“You’re gonna do great. You’re right on track for your due date, but it’s possible you’ll start feeling some contractions in the next week or two. If you notice them coming really close together or your water breaks, I want you to put that birthing plan in motion, okay?”

“Okay,” you and Matthew say in unison. It would’ve annoyed you before. Now you just smile at him because you think it’s cute.

Matthew escorts you back home and he’s hoping you’ll settle in and maybe rest. You don’t. You end up in the nursery, walking around like maniac. There is absolutely nothing to do. Nothing to move. Nothing to fix. Still, your brain tells you there must be something.

“Honey, honey,” he calls, taking you by the hand and guiding you to the couch. “Come lay down, please. Everything is all set.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he laughs. “You’re just nesting, I read about it online.”

“Oh, you and your baby google.”

“There really is so much out there!”

You roll your eyes, smiling as he covers you with a blanket. “You still going to Vegas this weekend? For your birthday?”

“Oh, no. No, I think I’m just gonna stay in New York.”

“What? Why? I thought your mom was planning a whole thing for you? You can’t miss it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna miss Teddy coming either. I don’t wanna leave you alone like that. The doctor said any day now.”

“Yeah, but, she also said it could be well over another week before I start contracting.”

He sighs, visibly anxious.

“Hey, look,” you pull him into your arms. “I appreciate you wanting to be here, I really do, but I want you to enjoy your birthday and I highly, highly doubt this kid is planning on escaping any time soon. Plus, my friend will be here if anything happens so, just, go, baby daddy, we’ll be fine.”

He sighs, “Fine. But you’ll call me if anything happens?”

“I will call you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately!”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

March 9 | 37 Weeks and 6 Days

The eve of Matthew’s birthday, you get roughly four hours of sleep. You rise with the sun and sit in Teddy’s room, folding his clothes, piling them in his dresser.

You friend wanders in, having just woken up herself and she sighs, “What the hell are you doing, crazy lady?”

“Nothing.”

“This nursery looks like it’s straight out of Architectural Digest. There’s nothing else to do, why don’t you go lay down?”

“Why is everyone always wanting me to lay down?”

“Because you’re carrying a human maybe? Duh?”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. I need to check on the bottles and make sure I have the right sized nipples because I’m not sure…”

“[y/n], you have all the nipples in the world. The ones, the twos, the threes, the ones on your tits. It’s fine!”

“I’m just checking!” And as you step towards the kitchen, you suddenly stop in your tracks, grab onto your crotch in shock.

“[y/n]?” you friend rushes to your side. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I…I, um, I think I just pissed myself?”

“Wh-what? Pissed yourself or did your water break?”

You look up at her in fear, “Oh my god.”

“I’ll get the hospital bag.”

“Oh my god.”

“Get some pants and shoes on, dude!”

“Oh my god,” you repeat. “I-I have to call Matthew.”

So you do. You do. Just in the knick of fucking time, your name pops up on his phone and he quickly grabs his luggage and sprints off the plane that was doomed to take off any second.

When he arrives at the hospital, he bursts into the room at full speed, thinking he’s already missed everything. Thinking it’s over. He finds you bouncing on a birthing ball and you grin at him.

“Hi, baby daddy!” you huff. “Happy birthday!”

“Hi! Hi…” he walks up to you, takes your hands in his although you do not stop bouncing. He kisses the top of your head, “Are you okay? How far along are you?”

“Three centimeters,” you pant. “And I am not getting off of this ball until it’s 10!”

“Okay, well, you have to take a break at some point. Do you need some water?”

“Nope! Just need to bounce.”

You last, maybe, five more minutes and then you need to lay down. Except you can’t. Because your contractions are ridiculous and you can never get comfortable and you end up on all fours in the bed, crying and groaning.

And three hours later, you are only 5 centimeters dilated.

Matthew lays in the bed beside you, patting your face with a rag, feeling absolutely useless. “What can I do, [y/n]? Tell me what to do.”

You cry and squeeze his hand until this contraction passes. You pant, “Y-y’know…I’ve heard sometimes…when a baby won’t come out…p-people….sometimes…”

“What? What do they do?”

“They…y’know…”

He is still confused.

“Like!” you shout in frustration. “Like, what gets the baby in also gets the baby out!”

It clicks, “Oh!” he exclaims. “Oh. Will that…will that hurt him?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But he’ll sure as shit get the message.”

And so, two fingers, ten minutes and six big pushes later, Theodore Gray [y/l/n]-Gubler is born. He weighs eight pounds, five ounces but he feels so heavy in your arms.

Finally in your arms.

Matthew, like a big baby himself, can’t stop crying. Can’t stop looking at him. Can’t stop kissing your face, “Look at him! He’s beautiful! You did it! Oh, my god, [y/n]! Look what you did!”

Teddy is truly the best birthday gift Matthew has ever gotten.

Two days later, you’re discharged from the hospital. Matthew arranged for a car to drive you home and he installs the car seat himself. He pushes you out in a wheelchair, despite your frequent protests, and gets Teddy buckled in. He then helps you and into the car before sliding in on the opposite side of the car seat.

You cover Teddy with his blanket and touch your fingertips to his face. He’s fast asleep, but this little grin forms on his face and the two of you chuckle.

“Hey,” you coo to him. “Hey, mister man, what are you doing? Huh? You…really don’t look a thing like me.”

Matthew cackles, “Yeah. Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus.”

He follows behind you with the car seat as you unlock your front door and lead them inside.

“Should we…I mean, do we just let him sleep?” he asks you.

“Until he’s hungry, yeah,” you nod, taking Teddy from his carrier. “Oh, hi…” you whisper to him. “Hi, mister man, you wanna lay in your bed? Hm?”

You place him in his crib and he doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t make a move. Matthew plops down on the floor, legs crisscrossed and you sit right beside him.

“He’s so fucking cool,” he tells you.

You giggle, “The coolest.”

The two of you could stare at him all day. You will.

“Is it still okay if spend the night?” he asks.

You look up at him with a smile, “Yes, we’d like that very much,” and you put your head on his shoulder.

His kisses your forehead softly, saying, “Cool.”

[chrisevansonly]

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

✯charles leclerc x female reader

✯seeing charles become a father was your happiest day, especially knowing he’s your daughters absolute favourite person

✯no warnings, quite cute and wholesome

✯here is a little dad!charles post, i love dad charles so much you have no idea. obviously i made it so that his daughter is bilingual, so there will be french and english swapped back and forth! i feel like this isn’t good but idk anyway enjoy <3

When Ella was born Charles thought he could never have a day where he’d feel as elated and as whole as he did, he felt those exact feelings the day he married you, and again when you told him you were pregnant. Although he knew this feeling all too well, it only intensified having his baby girl here with him and watching her grow and learn as she got older.

You loved watching the father and daughter duo play, laugh and of course cuddle up on the couch together after a long day, but nothing beat seeing her reaction when he got home from race weekends. Ella was learning to speak english and french of course, you were far more english speaking than Charles having moved to Monaco for him, but your knowledge of the language was stronger than it had been when you first got here.

“Maman?”

Looking towards the living room you smiled seeing Ella sitting at her favourite spot, colouring a picture for her dad. She had his eyes, and his hair too, not to mention a smidgen of his attitude. They were carbon copies of each other.

“Yes my love?”

You set aside what you were doing to join her in the living room

“What time is daddy going to be home?”

“I think he should be here very soon ma belle”

She nodded before showing you her drawing

“Pensez-vous qu'il aimera ce que j'ai fait?”

You smiled rubbing her cheek gently with your thumb, her eyes looking up at you with the slightest hesitation behind them

“oui mon bébé, il va l'aimer”

At your answer she smiled placing it back down onto her drawing table before double checking to make sure her work was perfect. A habit she had when it came to making anything for Charles, who was more than happy to hang all of her artwork in his office, the bright colours always contrasting against the dark oak that lined the walls.

Ella cleaned up her mess, organizing her markers in colour before the sound of a car locking outside had her running to the window looking outside to see if she could spot her father.

“Papa! Papa!”

From outside, Charles saw his baby girl looking at him from the window, the excitement on her face causing him to smile as he waved at her, blowing a kiss to her

“Maman, we have to go to the door!! Right now come!”

You laughed as she grabbed your hand, pulling you to the front door, waiting patiently as you unlocked and opened it. Ella was quick to run out and down a few steps, giggles leaving her lips as she got closer to her dad who was quick to pick her up and hold her to him.

“Ella Bella!”

“Papa tu ma’s manqué!”

Charles laughed rubbing her back

“I missed you too ma chère, were you good for maman?”

Ella nods her head quickly before looking to where you’re still standing by the door

“Devrions-nous aller voir maman?”

“Oui!”

On the way up to you he placed a few kisses to Ella’s head, every moment he got to spend with you two would always be special to him, Ella was getting so big now he wanted to savour every minute of her still being his little princess.

“Welcome home baby”

You smile bringing the two of them in for a hug, only pulling back to press a kiss to his lips before ushering your family into the house and out of the humid summer air. Once the three of you were inside Charles put Ella down so she could run to get her drawing, allowing your husband to pull you in for another kiss, this time keeping a hold of you

“How about you? You miss me that much too?”

Laughing you nodded

“Of course, always do Char”

Charles brought his things to the bottom of the stairs, not wanting the haste of unpacking at the moment, he’d get to it later, or you’d beat him to it as usual, always more than happy to let him and Ella spend time together.

“Papa come here please!”

Kissing your cheek, Charles walked to the living room where Ella was waiting, a smile on her face as she held out the drawing she made

“Wow! Did you do this yourself?!”

Ella beamed at the surprise in his tone

“Yes! Made it for you papa!!”

“Je l’aime tellement mon bébé, c’est magnifique! Merci Ella, je t’aime tellement”

“Je t’aime papa!”

Charles smiled as Ella jumped up and down, wrapping her little arms around his neck as she giggled, happy her father loved the drawing she made. As you watched the two of them your heart grew, there was no love that would ever match how Charles felt about his baby girl, and one day you’d hoped he’d feel about another little Leclerc running around.

If there was anything Charles was better at than racing, it would be being the best father to your daughter, and the best husband to you, there was no doubt about it.

[world0fmadness]

OH MY DARLING

peter steele x reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

♡ general headcanons for peter as a girl dad!

୨୧ the most adorable request ever, love it and i hope you love this anon! i gave the daughter a name but it isn’t a major thing at all so you could imagine to be something else and the walking dead game brainrot is kind of heavy lol, sweetpea is just such a cute nickname so i ripped it <3

♡ requested by anon | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: ecstasy by crooked still - apple by cibo matto

♡ i feel like your daughter would be a carbon copy of peter!

୨୧ she has his deep green eye colour, his raven black hair and so on! she probably only inherited very small features from you but peter says he sees them very clearly in her

♡ the only thing she didn’t get from him is his height and build… i mean obviously, because she’s just a baby and all but even still, she’s super small, even for a child

୨୧ she’s the shortest in her daycare and just has the most adorable little features on her face!

♡ her tiny little button nose is your and peters favourite, both of you always place kisses on her nose, ever since she was a newborn

୨୧ maybe it’s just because i’ve been replaying the walking dead and just adore clementine so much but i can see you guys naming your daughter clementine! it’s just such a cute name

♡ peter would sing “ oh my darling clementine ” to her all the time when she woke up crying as a newborn and it just kind of stuck as she grew up

୨୧ whenever she has a bad dream as a toddler and needs help getting back to sleep, he’ll kneel next to her bed and stroke her hair whilst quietly singing the song in his deep voice as you watch lovingly from the doorway

♡ when he’s not singing her to sleep, he’s telling her a custom fairytale!

୨୧ he used to read ones from books for her but she never liked them too much, she’s super creative and original like her father, so she always thought they were just kind of boring and always the same

♡ so now, peter makes his own up as he goes! usually fairytales about vampires and other gothic things but she loves them

୨୧ she’s a total daddy’s girl! the second she was placed in his arms after being born, you could see they would share something special

♡ as a newborn, she’d cry for so long until peter took her into his arms! she would calm down a little with you but she would only fully stop crying when you handed her over to her papa and he rocked her tiny body in his big arms whilst he softly shushed her and leaned his head down to give her eskimo kisses

“ you’re okay, sweetpea… nothings wrong, see? papa’s got you, you’re okay… it’s okay ” ( her crying draws to a stop almost immediately as your mouth drops open in shock, peter simply throwing you a cheeky wink before cooing down at his little girl and giving her his finger to hold )

୨୧ whenever peter holds her in his arms, she almost doesn’t look real! ever since she was a baby, she looks more like a little porcelain doll rather than a real child due to their major difference in size and build

♡ but it’s so so so cute! he loves holding her because she’s just lighter than a feather to him

୨୧ she especially loves being placed on his shoulders because she says it makes her feel like a princess riding a big horse or tamed dragon

♡ taking her to type o negative concerts is always a trip! people backstage will immediately know who she’s related to the second they lay eyes on her, connecting her to the frontman within a split second due to how much she resembles peter

୨୧ you’ll often stand to the side of the stage, backstage and protected, your daughter held on your hip with soundproof headphones placed over her small and sensitive ears and yet she’ll still softly bob her head to the extremely muffled music making it through

♡ peter will usually dedicate a song to her, often her favourite one or one he wrote for her, and blow a kiss to the both of you as she catches it in her small hand and excitedly waves to him with a cheeky smile on her face

୨୧ speaking of a song he wrote for her, he absolutely has at least one song wrote about and for her!

♡ he probably wrote it when she was a newborn, during one of the many early nights where he had been awoken by her high pitched cries and went to comfort her whilst making sure you got your well deserved rest

୨୧ he wrote it on a notepad whilst sitting in a chair in her nursery after putting her back to sleep, looking up from the notepad every couple of minutes to admire his baby girl as she slept peacefully in her crib

♡ yeah, his perfect little girl was the most deserving of a song in her name

୨୧ he’ll always make sure that the backstage staff have juice boxes and snacks for her too! it’s the thing at the very top of the list for essentials that the band will need for a show

♡ peter will absolutely let your daughter colour in his tattoos if she wanted to!

୨୧ you’ll probably be cuddled up on the couch watching a movie or something and she’ll come running up to you two with a box of coloured markers, speaking in a rushed and excited tone whilst climbing up onto the couch, with a lot of help from her papa

♡ both you and peter give a laugh at how excited she is before peter gently ruffles her hair, letting her take his arm onto her lap and start colouring, admiring her with a loving look in his eyes

“ hm? oh! ‘s looking good, sweetpea! wow, look at that, you’ve stayed in the lines so well! ” ( she really hasn’t but it’s his baby girl, she can do no wrong )

୨୧ to be honest, he’d probably get a tattoo of one of her drawings!

♡ he’d give her a piece of paper and tell her to draw something cool and pretty before giving a piece to you too, asking you to write your name and get her to write her own when she’s done with her drawing

୨୧ within the week, peter has a messy dragon doodle and your and her name tattooed on his body, her name being a mere cute little chicken scrawl

♡ your daughter loves trying to scare her papa, always creeping up behind him whilst he writes some lyrics on a notepad or jumping out from behind a curtain as he walks by

୨୧ but of course, it never actually scares peter… he heard her tiny shoes tapping against the floor as she crept up behind him and her muffled giggles as she tried to hide them behind her hand

♡ and of course, he saw her outline behind the curtain and her fluffy socked feet were completely uncovered

୨୧ but he makes sure she doesn’t know that, he always puts on a spooked face and an over exaggerated gasp before kneeling down slightly and taking her into his arms as she giggles up a storm, proclaiming how she got him

“ you sure did get me, sweetpea! how didn’t i hear you, huh? you must’ve been floating like a ghost! my little ghost, hm? ” ( is lying really all that bad if it makes his baby girl show him that bright, beautiful little smile? )

♡ peter will always let her play with his hair!

୨୧ she wants to decorate it with an assortment of “ girly ” clips? go for it! he has no problem with it at all, he’ll sit on the floor in front of the couch whilst she sits on it behind him, so that there isn’t a major difference in height

♡ you and your daughter both love making his hair “ pretty ” and peter just loves seeing a smile on both of your faces, you’ll help her pick the prettiest clips and share beaming smiles with peter <3

[vandnana]

In Love With The Enemy [Prologue]

Prologue: Playing Scientist

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst 

highlights: grace being like a mother to you and jake being like your father figure while quaritch is in his toxic dad era 

warnings: mentions of blood, war, violence, adult language

word count: 6,265

note: thank you to everyone who has been so excited for this series! i wasn’t originally going to make this prologue, but i really wanted to establish the reader’s old life before she was revived and how close the reader was to jake and grace first before diving into the rest of the series! 

[chapter 1] [chapter 2]

The forest of Pandora holds many dangers, but the most dangerous thing about her is that you may grow to love her too much. 

You were the youngest in the regiment back then, too young for war and far too young for what was in store for you in Pandora. But, Quaritch took you in when you were a child. You had no family, no home, and no promise of a real future. He had seen himself in you: cunning, willing, strong, and unafraid. You were everything he could have hoped for in a daughter, but you were real. His prodigy. And not a day went by when you didn’t live up to those expectations. You loved being with Quaritch. He had become your father and he always thought that nothing could ever change that. 

Then you met Grace.

You were only a child when you first met her, and having been around army dogs your whole life, meeting her was a breath of fresh air, air that you never knew you were missing. 

She was hesitant at first. You were Quaritch’s kid, an actual carbon-copy of the worst trigger-happy moron out there. Yet, even with all your harsh military training, you maintained an unmistakeable innocence in your eyes, an innocence that Grace couldn’t ignore when you asked her to teach you about Pandora, about the Na’vi, about the avatars. You were curious, genuinely curious and for Grace, although she would never admit it, it was refreshing too.

“You know, for a little Marine, you’re actually pretty smart.” She was watching you with her elbow resting on the lab table as you took notes of your findings, your eyes glued to your notebook

You didn’t look up at her, “I don’t know about that. I just did what you told me to.”

She put a hand on top of your notebook, halting the pen in your hand, “What I told you to do was simply look at the sample.”

You looked at her with confused eyes, and she sighed, taking the notebook out of your reach.

Holding it up, she displayed your work in front of you, eyes flitting from your notebook to you, “I did not tell you classify your observations and make a surprisingly accurate diagram of the snaketree’s cellular levels.”

You nodded, acknowledging your mistake. You had disobeyed a direct order and unsure what else to say, you apologized on instinct. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Grace looked at you in awe, laughing suddenly, “This isn’t military training numbnuts. What you did was good work, real good work. I’m impressed.”

“Are you serious?” You were still in disbelief, but the feeling in your chest was one you’d never had before.

She smacked you lightly on the head, “Yes! You’re smarter than all the idiots in your squad, especially your father. And from now on, don’t call me ma’am, okay?”

You rubbed where she had hit you, smiling as you nodded, “Yes ma- I mean, yes Grace.”

Suddenly, you understood what you felt in your chest. It was different from the feeling you would get when you were praised by Quaritch. This feeling, it was like being recognized by a mother. Yes, you were that cunning, willing, strong, and fearless girl that Quaritch adored, but you were also smart beyond what you were told and you had an admirable moral compass that put the rest of your squad to shame.

Grace never let you forget that.

Still, you were Quaritch’s daughter, and being his daughter meant that you had to take on the role of who you always were. His perfect soldier. 

The more time you spent on Pandora, the more you began to see past the façade you let yourself believe for so long. The mission was never about finding diplomatic solutions or building alliances. It was about destruction, money, and humanity’s wretched twist on glory, a misguided glory that Quaritch was more than happy to fulfill. 

When Jake came on board, your father saw that potential, a soldier in with the wrong crowd, the thought invoking a vile taste in his mouth. Yet, with all his personal notions aside, there was an opportunity to be poached. 

Jake was the key to the glory he was chasing.

Quaritch spared no time asking you to summon Jake. He was going to offer him a deal, one that he simply couldn’t refuse. You obliged to the simple request, but your heart was heavy. Six years you had been on Pandora and relations with the indigenous were only getting worse, and with Jake, your father finally found a reliable mole to fulfill his duties. 

You made the short journey to the lab, the way so embedded into you that your legs were working on pure muscle memory. It had been a while since you had been there, too busy with AMP suit duty and perimeter watch to have any time to stop by. You commanded attention instantly walking through the door, the scientists greeting you warmly as you brushed past them. 

Jake, who looked unabashedly lost among the labcoats, immediately looked your way, and seeing you in your full camo, he almost seemed relieved, the pristine, formalin smell of the lab permeating his nose was enough to suffocate him as he sat there, bored out of his mind. 

“Jake Sully?” You approached, your demeanor intimidating at first, but betrayed by the smile on your face when you looked past him, waving. 

He looked behind him to see Grace with a disapproving look in her eyes, “Shouldn’t you be playing soldier, little girl?” 

“I am playing soldier...unfortunately. Which is why I’m here. I need to borrow yours.” You replied, turning your gaze to Jake.

Grace sighed, “Go ahead and take him. He’s pretty much useless here anyway,” Jake looked up at her, but he said nothing, merely scoffing. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll return him to you as soon as possible.” You said sarcastically, putting your hand out in front of her and extending your pinkie, “I pinky promise.” 

You laughed as she rolled her eyes at you, pushing your hand away, “I’d actually rather you keep him, but Selfridge seems to think I need another idiot with a gun.”

“Come on, play nice, Grace.” You reasoned.

She crossed her arms, lowering her eyes at such a hopeless request, “Just get the Marine out of my sight, will you? You’d be doing me such a favor, y/n.”

You glanced down at Jake, who was holding back all the snappy responses that were just at the tip of his tongue. 

“Favor granted.” You replied simply with a smile, walking away, Jake following behind you.

As you reached the doorway, you halted, turning your head back, “I saw those samples you got earlier. I’ll sneak back here after dinner, just don’t look at them without me, okay?”

Looking over her shoulder, Grace couldn’t help but concede to a grin, “Wouldn’t dream of it, but it’s Max you really have to worry about.”

You put a finger out pointedly, your tone stern, “Tell him I’ll shoot him if he touches them.” 

Grace chuckled, “Alright, alright miss Marine. I’ll pass along the message.”

With a final wave, you left, navigating through the halls with Jake beside you, “Sorry about Grace. She’s always prickly at first, but she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“No kidding.” Jake huffed, looking up at you curiously as he kept up with your pace, “Where are you taking me anyway?”

“The Colonel wants to see you.” You replied, the heaviness in your heart suddenly obvious as you walked, the hallway widening out into one of the base’s hangars, the multiple flyers and AMP suits becoming your audience as you passed them.

Jake maintained his inspecting tone, eyes flitting from the path in front of him to you, “So, what are you? A soldier or one of the science sorties?” 

“Oo “science sortie” I haven’t heard that one before.” You replied sarcastically, but you maintained your placid grin, “I’m y/n.”

He nodded, but still he continued, his tone so arrogant that it almost felt insulting, “Okay y/n...you didn’t answer my question. Playing soldier and playing scientist are two completely different games.”

You scoffed, making eye contact as you pointed to his legs, “And what’s your game? Are you a Marine or are you a cripple?”

He was stunned, having no clever retort, resorting to a simple shrug, “May be out, but you never lose the attitude.”

Having heard all the military cliches, you chuckled, “Look, there’s no game here. Not on Pandora. These RDA goons and this greedy company think they’re on the winning side of a pointless war. To be honest with you, I’d rather be doing what you’re doing.”

“So why aren’t you?” Jake asked, stopping to face you.

You halted, meeting his gaze, your expression visibly troubled. 

“Lieutenant Quaritch.” A deep voice called from behind you, and you turned receiving the soldier’s salute. 

“Warren...what can I do for you?” You asked. 

The soldier pointed to one of the flyers just ahead, your best friend Trudy waving to you as your eyes stopped where she was, “I’ve been relieved of doorman duty. Trudy wanted me to tell you the spot is open for the taking.

Turning your attention to Jake, you asked, “How do you feel about being a doorman? Trudy flies all your “science sorties.” 

Immediately, Jake agreed, “I’m your guy.” 

Warren saluted again, acknowledging Jake with a nod before returning to the flyer.

The disgruntled expression on your face only lasted for a moment, but Jake saw it right away, his eyes softening as he looked at you. He wasn’t all that convinced of his position being covetable or about this war you had talked about, but he did understand the pressure you were under. 

Choosing to lighten the mood, Jake took an opportunity to tease you, clearing his throat before speaking, “Lieutenant Quaritch, huh? That must get you a lot of dates.”

Somehow, Jake knew that it was exactly what you needed, wanting to avoid the conversation in front of too many prying ears. You gave into your own laughter, you responded snarkily, “Probably the same amount as you, old man.”

Jake scoffed, “Old man? I’m not that much older than you.” 

Your eyes darted upward as you put a finger to your chin, your expression filled with feigned wonderment, “Really? I mean, you look like you’ve earned your senior discount with that wheelchair.” 

He chuckled to himself, amused as he retorted, “I’m sure my senior discount doesn’t do your kids meal justice.”

You threw your head back in another fit of laughter, “I’ll give you that one Sully. For now.” 

Stopping, you outstretched your arm, “The Colonel is right through there.” You pointed, seeing your father bench pressing in the makeshift workout room the soldiers created. Although its black, metal bars made it feel more like a prison.

Jake thanked you, and you nodded, putting a fist out, which he proudly bumped.

“Hey Jake,” You began, and he looked over his shoulder, waiting for what you had to say.

The seriousness in your voice was stark as you gave him a curt expression, “I meant what I said earlier about a pointless war. Whatever my dad offers you, he’ll mean it. My dad takes care of his own. Just don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

He squinted at you inquisitively, “Wasn’t planning to.” 

You turned your heel, looking over your shoulder before leaving, “See you around, old man, unless you want to go back to your retirement home on earth.”

“Go crawl back to your crib, won’t you?” He yelled after you, and with your back turned, you flipped him off, his chuckle becoming fainter and fainter as you walked away.

You stopped by Trudy and she stopped what she was doing, getting up from her crouched position, “Hey, hey what’s wrong? You’ve got that look in your eye.”

Looking back, you watched as Jake talked to your father, “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling, Trudy.”

Trudy put a comforting hand on your back, “Why don’t we go to the caf and raid the dessert pantry? That always makes you feel better.”

“Can’t hurt.” You replied, the two of you hastily walking to the cafeteria.

You felt slightly better because of Trudy’s efforts, but that bad feeling still plagued you. When night fell, you walked to the soldiers’ quarters, making your way to the far end of it to find your father in his room.

“What did Sully say, sir?” Keeping your nonchalance, you showed no heightened emotions, standing perfectly as your father turned his attention to you.

He had a smirk on his face, which gave away his answer, “We’ll have these savages by the balls in no time.”

“What exactly are you having him do?” You pushed on, maintaining your stoic expression.

Quaritch walked over to you, “I thought about sending you instead. Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind seeing as that Augustine bitch is trying to brainwash you into believe her tree-hugging bullshit.”

Still, you gave him an unreadable expression, waiting for him to continue what he was saying.

“But, you don’t have an avatar. Sully can gather intel that we need from the inside. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” You stood with perfect posture as silence enveloped you. 

He smiled at you, putting a hand on your cheek, “Now, go on to bed baby girl. We got a long day ahead of us.” 

~

Could you blame Jake for taking the deal? He didn’t know that he was really making a deal with the devil. 

Jake was like you at first. Ignorant. He didn’t fully grasp the world he was entering into, clinging onto the comfort of what he had always known. He was a Marine who figured it was just another hellhole, another tour that would add to his long list of sins.

He would get a reversal, his old life before a big hole was blown right through the middle of it. Reporting intel was a cakewalk to Jake, and if that meant the promise of his legs back, then there was nothing to lose. 

Three months. That was how long Jake had to negotiate the Na’vi’s relocation. 

It didn’t take long for Grace to find out that Jake was talking to the Colonel, Max rushing in to deliver the news to you all, his mannerisms frantic as he threw his hands up. Grace had her usual cigarette in her mouth, and in her burning rage, she almost bit down on it, her teeth barely sinking in as she grit her teeth. 

Taking it out of her mouth, she let a puff of smoke escape and you all felt her rage as her smoke cloud engulfed you all, “Those idiots have no business sticking their noses in my department.”

The rest of you were silent, listening as she continued her rant. Jake was untouchable, strangely chosen by the Omaticaya, and unfortunately, her only way back in with the clan. You could see her thinking as her eyes went to the ceiling, her forehead furrowing as she considered what her next move was. Seemingly, she had found the answer after her mental contemplation, immediately ordering everyone to gather everything up.  

Quickly, she walked over to her station, her eyes scanning the contents of the table. 

You followed after her, “What are you doing to do?”

She handed you her cigarette, her hands at work as she began to organize what was in front of her, “We’re getting out of Dodge. I’m not about to let your brainless father and that ass-hat Selfridge micro-manage this thing.”

She had handed you the cigarette so haphazardly that you almost grabbed the  part that had been lit, cinging it on your belt once she gave it to you, “So, where are we going?” 

She stopped, facing you with a warning look, “We? You really think daddy dearest is gonna let you out of his sight? He already gets that ugly vein in his forehead every time you do anything that involves me.” 

“Let him have his ugly vein because I’m not staying here if you’re not.” You protested, searching her eyes for approval, but she only looked at you with a pessimistic expression. 

She put a hand on your cheek, her steely tone betrayed by the concern in her eyes, “Don’t push it. “

You placed a hand over hers, “You can’t change my mind. So, just tell me. Where are you thinking of moving everything?”

Grace groaned at your stubbornness, letting go of her hold on your face as she pulled her tablet out to show you, “Site 26, up in the Hallelujah Mountains.” 

Your eyes lit up as an idea sprang into your mind, “I have to go.” You said abruptly making your way back to the hangar, your eyes avidly searching for your father.

When you caught sight of him, he was about to get into an AMP suit, but the sound you calling him made him jump back down, his head turned in your direction.

He immediately gave you a toothy grin, pleased to see you as he put an affectionate hand on your back, “Is my little girl keepin’ everyone in line?”

“I’m practically walking intimidation to these people, sir.” You joked, but he took you seriously, looking at you with such pride.

“Nothing wrong with being feared. That’s how we Quaritchs get it done.” 

“Speaking of getting things done,” He leaned in closer, attentive as he waited for you to continue, “The scientists are about to have a change in scenery. I know you got Jake in there, but let me fly with Trudy. With me around too, you’ve practically got your dream team.” 

Facing you, he put his hands on your shoulders, his smile even wider than before as the corners of his eyes crinkled in pure regard for you, “Taking initiative. I wish I had ten more like you.”

You smiled back, “So, I have your approval?”

“You’ve got my approval,” His tone changing ominously as he stared down at you, “But don’t let these limp-dick science majors fool you. There ain’t nothing worth saving here. You know the mission, y/n.” 

Hugging him, you let the smile on your face fall, the graveness in his tone sending a whirring ache in your stomach. “You know me better than that, dad. I’m your daughter.” You reassured him, your voice so convincing that even you had almost believed the lie you were feeding him. 

He leaned back, looking at you with a pleased grin, “Damn right you are.” 

~

“After all this time, we finally get to fly together. Ain’t that a bitch.” Trudy said, handing you bags as you set them into the back of her flyer.

“Better late than never.” You hummed, overjoyed to finally be away from the base.

After everything was secured, everyone’s avatars were loaded on, their impossibly large stature so lifeless that they almost seemed like statues. Flying through the mountains, you all looked around in awe, Trudy laughing at you all as your mouths gaped open, too consumed in absolute wonderment to even process her laugh. This wasn’t the first time you had seen the mountains, but that didn’t make them any less remarkable. Landing, you all wasted no time making yourselves comfortable, picking out your bunks, setting your stuff down, and inspecting the entire place. 

Over the next few weeks, Jake stayed true to what he was ordered to do, diligent and detailed with every report after his excursions using his avatar. Sometimes, he would do them alone, always making sure that no one was watching, but other times you were right beside him, cringing as he attempted to make sense of the Omaticaya.

After the first month, you could sense Jake’s weariness as he closed his video log, his finger nervously hovering over the button to send it in. 

Walking over, you placed a hand on the table, “Yeah, I’d be hesitating to send that in too. You look like crap, old man.” You snickered, hoping to subside his worries with your joke.

He met your eyes, annoyed, “Whatever, baby face. Don’t you have a kids meal to eat or something?.”

“I had to check on my favorite old guy. You know, make sure you didn’t keel over or anything.” You pouted, earning a scowl from him.

Taking a seat on top of the table, you tilted your head at him, What’s with the hesitation? You usually just send things in and walk away.” You prodded.

He pressed the button, not wanting to explain himself, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lowering your eyes at him, you scoffed, “It’s not a crime to like it here. Should I remind you how earth is practically just a ticking time bomb? The core is caving in on itself as we speak.”

“I want my legs back.” He replied, but even he wasn’t convinced by his tone.

Getting up, you let your arms fall to your sides, “You have legs.”

“Not always.” Jake snapped back. 

“You know Jake, like it or not, blue’s always been your color.” You hinted, leaving him to contemplate your words as you went back to your bunk. 

He was fighting hard denial, falling in love with the forest little by little, and everything it was giving him. Jake didn’t realize how much he missed running, hell even walking was a blessing. Things were hard at first, but with Neytiri pushing his limits, he couldn’t even complain, too grateful that he was even able to get back up from falling. 

And suddenly, Jake finally had something to lose. 

You watched as everything was backwards for Jake, the world he had thrust himself into for a simple mission becoming the reality, while his waking life had become the dream. Pandora was changing him, just like it changed you.

Learning the ways of the Omaticaya was the catalyst, but then there was also Grace, and Norm, and of course, you. While he had found unlikely friendships with Norm and Grace, you had become close friends since the day you first met. 

In truth, you reminded him of his brother, Tommy, the science guy, the smarter one. But Tommy didn’t have that callous edge that Jake’s military background imprinted on him. It was the one thing about Jake that Tommy could never relate to.

You could though, and you did. 

Every time. 

You were practically cut from the same tree, and despite your usual dizzying scientific discussions, Na’vi lingo and occasional latin-rooted vernacular, you actually understood him without really trying.

You were younger than him, younger than everyone, a constant cause for concern because aside from all your one-liners and jokes, Jake felt responsible for you. You were better than him in so many ways, and he respected you,  cared about you, more than he cared about himself. 

And the longer you were around Jake, the more you got to know him, and the easier it became to see his internal struggle. He didn’t know who he was anymore, his concept of loyalty faltering as the burden of what Quaritch had asked him had finally laid stones in his heart. 

Jake’s three months had gone by in a blink. To the disappointment of your father, his last report was more than three weeks from that deadline. Your father had called him back to base, Jake’s lag stirring his intolerance for deviancy, but you intercepted it, offering to talk to him yourself. 

You waited for Jake by his pod, looking out at the Pandora forest through the window and taking in the tranquility of the scene before you. Beyond the clearing were the endless flora and fauna and amidst the air and soft dirt, were speckles of life in the form of the local insects and animals. You peered outside in awe, wondering what it would feel like to explore the forest without the confines of your feeble humanity.

Behind you, you could hear the pod open, stirring you away from your thoughts. You turned around, Jake’s expression completely contemplative as he noticed you. 

You gave him an equally reflective expression, your mind carrying an unwieldy weight as you dreaded the conversation that daunted the both of you.

He pulled himself out of the pod, but you remained where you were. “My dad is starting to question your resolve. Will Neytiri and her people move from HomeTree?”

You knew the answer already, and Jake buried his face in his hands, “They don’t want anything. There’s nothing to trade, but what could they possibly want from us? Lite beer and blue jeans? They’re never gonna leave, and I don’t blame them.”

You hung your head low, “It’s not wrong for you to like it here, Jake. You didn’t do anything wrong. My father roped you into this mess.”

He lifted his head up from his hands, his expression so burdened and beaten down, “I can barely remember my old life y/n. I don’t even know who I am anymore.” 

You leaned forward, putting comforting hands on his shoulders, “You know who you are Jake.” 

He looked up, his eyes begging you to tell him who that was. “You’re one of The People now, and this forest is your home. You can protect it still.”

Jake never cried, but he almost did as he avoided your eyes, “You once told me not to make a promise I can’t keep.”he let out a defeated sigh, “Should have taken you seriously back then.” 

“What matters is what you do now. Saving them, that’s all that matters. I’ll tell my dad what he wants to hear, but you know what you have to do, and you’re the only one who can do it.” You kept a meek smile, patting his shoulders.

He was silent for a moment, nodding as he took in your words, “Whatever happens, I’m not bringing you down with me. Who knows what your dad will do when he finds out you’ve gone rogue.” His face was etched in concern, his worry for you embedded in the lines of his forehead.

You shrugged, your expression grave as you frowned, “A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.” 

You paused, looking down at your clasped hands as you reminisced about the life you had back on earth, “I owe Quaritch my life, you know. My real parents didn’t want me and no one else did either. For a long time, he was all I had, and I thought that everything he did was to protect me.”

You met Jake’s eyes again, your expression fierce with determination, “But, kids grow up and they realize who their parents are and they either accept that or fight it with all they got. I choose to fight.”

Jake’s expression softened as you continued on, your emotion suddenly overwhelming as you felt your voice almost break, “You, Grace, Trudy,  Norm, you guys are my family. I got your back Jake. No matter what.”

He put a hand on your head, a genuine smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about me. You’re the baby. It’s my job to protect you.”

You shook your head, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“What can I say?” He sighed, shrugging, “I’m a stubborn old man.”

~

The next day, the bulldozers came and not long after that came the destruction of HomeTree. There was nothing you all could do except sit and watch as Quaritch ordered the columns to be brought down, the Na’vi scattering in waves of blue as they witnessed their home engulf in flames, the cataclysmic reds and oranges muting the once green landscape and settling into the soulless smoke cloud that rose above them all, its presence like a deadly omen.

Grace, Norm, and Jake were detained immediately, and just like Jake had said, he protected you, pretending you had no involvement in anything that happened. You, Trudy, and Max did you all you could to help them escape when you got the chance, and as you approached her flyer, Jake stopped, urging you to leave so you wouldn’t get caught. 

You refused, insisting to come with them, but Grace had already made the decision for you, pulling you into a hug, she caressed your hair, “You need to stay here, baby girl.”

You could feel tears fall down your face as you wrapped your arms around her, savoring her embrace before letting go, unwillingly giving in to the urgency of the situation.

As they entered into the hangar, you ran back to the heart of the base, hiding while soldiers charged toward them, your father taking the lead. Later that night, you found out Grace was dying and you cried alone. You were beyond consolation, your grief consuming your heart, the ache tormenting you as you sat in the base, unable to do anything for her. You had seen death. Countless times. But not being with her for hers felt like you were the one you had been killed.

It was hard to feign your innocence after you found out that it was your father who shot her, and it became damn near impossible when Jake told you she had finally passed. Still, you were strong, playing the perfect soldier until the final battle came.

Fleets of ships entered into enemy territory, rows and rows of them creating an ugly, gray hoard amidst Pandora’s natural beauty. When you had entered, warriors on their ikrans swarmed, shooting left and right and bringing down the smaller flyers one by one.

You were with your father when he gave you the order to shoot Trudy down, her flyer adorned with war paint as she targeted your father’s ship, guns blazing. 

“I won’t do it.” You refused outright. 

In all your life, you had never been defiant, stunning him only for a second before he rose his voice at you, “Shoot her down, y/n!”

You got up, gritting your teeth as you spoke, your contempt silvery in your tongue, “I won’t kill my friend.” 

Seething, he turned away from you, “If you won’t, I will.” 

Before you could stop him he armed all pods, sending endless shots toward Trudy. You were frozen, unable to peel your eyes away as you watched her rotor explode, her flyer plummeting further and further down to the ground until she was engulfed in a deadly explosion. Still, you were agonized from the pain of losing Grace, but your loss became insurmountable watching your father murder your best friend. 

He paid no mind to that pain as he continued his plight, too focused to care about what he had done to you. All felt hopeless suddenly, your heart breaking as you watched more destruction unfold before you. Ikran and Na’vi were being shot in the air and below you men and women were being shot down, the fits of fleeting light coming from the gunfire of the AMP suits still visible from so high up.

Then, as if a prayer had been answered, ikran were flying in swarms from all directions, their masses attacking ships and taking down sentries. On the other side of you, you saw Jake, landing on top of one of the ships, unleashing grenades and jumping off to land on the biggest ikran you had ever seen, Toruk. 

You watched as Toruk maneuvered through the arching rock columns that surrounded the Tree of Souls and descended quickly to your father’s ship. With a loud thud, Jake was above you, unleashing grenades. Seeing him, your father steered the ship right, rupturing his balance as he fell backward. The grenade exploded, triggering the oxygen breach alarm. You grabbed an exo pack as you ran to the ship’s hatch, your father yanking you to the ground, his gun already in his hand as he stationed himself in the opening. Rushing, you took hold of the ladder, pushing past your father toward Jake, who was barely holding onto the ship, a missile already in his hand.

Jake threw the missile into the rotor as Quaritch fired a shot, the bullet meant for Jake hitting you as you blocked its path, the blood pooling in your chest instantly. In that moment, Quaritch dropped his gun, running toward you with his arms outstretched, his attempt at catching you futile as you already fell backwards.

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.

What Quaritch had failed to be, Jake fulfilled, scooping you into his arms as you both tumbled downward, tightly wrapping himself around your dying body to brace you from the impact. When you had finally fallen to the forest floor, you were heaving, your vision fading as he towered over you.

He was holding onto your limp body, tears streaming down his face. “No, no. You’re gonna be fine, y/n.”

You had never seen him cry before, and that made everything feel all the more heart-wrenching. There was no hope to save you.

You smiled at him like nothing was wrong, “You know me better than that Jake. I’m a scientist. I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

He let out a weak chuckle. It was the same thing that Grace had said to him when she lay dying, making his heart twist even more. He was in utter shock, his eyes suddenly drowned with tears while hugging you, as if doing so would bring back the warmth that was slowly leaving your body. 

You stared at him, piecing your final words together as you could feel the creeping darkness approach. Putting a hand on his cheek, you finally knew what you wanted to say. “You’re a good man Jake. Thanks for being my family.”

“Y/n, you’re gonna be alright.” He cooed, his heart breaking as your face paled and paled.

Taking one final breath, you smiled, “You’ll make a great dad someday.” 

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice quietly inaudible, but your eyes went blank and your hand dropped from his cheek.

Your body was cold and bloody as he held onto you, and as he tried so desperately to search for a remaining light in your eyes, he was only filled with more pain, an irrevocable pain welling inside of him, his heart blocking his mind from making sense of the fact that you were really dead. 

You reminded Jake of his brother Tommy, and just like him, you were dead too. He felt like he had failed you, the pain and rage stirring inside of him becoming a strength as he went up against your father. 

“Give it up, Quaritch. It’s all over.” Jake yelled out, his call becoming a perfectly timed distraction as Neytiri tried to free herself from the weight of a dead thanator.

“Nothing’s over while I’m breathing.” the Colonel spat, his words imbued with his pure hatred and scorn, “You killed my little girl, Sully. And for that, death is too good for you. I want to see you suffer.”

“It’s your fault she’s gone!” Jake hissed. 

“She was my daughter, and I should have never trusted her with you. You think you’re one of them?” So blinded by his own rage, the Colonel blamed Jake for your death, the fuel of his grief giving him an unholy boost in his fighting spirit.

“Time to wake up.” Walking to the pod, he broke the window, filling the oxygen isolated space with Pandora’s air. Panting, Jake could feel his link go in and out, his body convulsing in response to the breach. 

When Quaritch had turned back to Jake, he laughed maniacally, enjoying as he watched Jake struggle. Grabbing him by the hair, he pulled Jake’s knife out, “I’m gonna love cutting you up with your own knife.”

Jake even in his lightheaded state, managed to keep his resolve. Hissing aggressively as Quaritch inched and inched toward his neck, Jake could feel the imminence of blood being drawn until he stopped, Quaritch’s hands going limp, dropping Jake and the knife. As fast as the first came, so did a second, dealing the final blow. Neytiri watched as Quaritch died, satisfied as he became void of life, the misguided glory he was chasing dying with him.

~

Those who weren’t loyal to the Na’vi were sent back to earth, and in his last ditch attempt to save you, Jake had taken you before Mo’at, hoping that Great Mother still held your life in her intricate balance.

Mo’at pleaded for you underneath the Tree of Souls, the Great Mother’s roots glowing around your lifeless body, but dimming quickly.

Lifting her head up, Mo’at looked at Jake, choosing her words very carefully, “In this time of great sorrow, she cannot be saved Jake Sully, but the Great Mother still holds her in her heart. She is not gone from us forever.” 

Neytiri held him as he stared ahead blankly, so struck by his grief that he hadn’t truly grasped what Mo’at was saying. When he had shaken himself out of his state, he picked your body up, burying you where they had buried Grace’s human body, the Omaticaya chanting to Eywa as Jake, Norm, and all the other scientists gathered to say their final goodbye.

And in that final goodbye, you too had become a relic of the past, but your memory lived on as Jake continued his life, your death a painful reminder that he must always protect his family. 

You had told him something long ago, something he would never forget.

A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. 

~

Author’s Note: 

My lovers, 

how did you all like that prologue? please let me know in the comments!! i’d love to know what you think :) writing grace and trudy’s death hurt me in my soUL, ITS NOT THIS ANGSTY FOR THE LATER PARTS I SWEAR

again, i wanna thank you all for waiting so patiently for this series!! 

part 1 is almost done as well and im beyond excited for you guys to see reader and jake reunite :) AND OFCCC READER AND LO’AK MEETING OMGGGGGG

for all those who wanted to be part of the taglist, you’re listed below

if you want to be tagged in the next parts, please comment on this post or send me a dm or an ask with your blog name! 

Love,

Nana <3

taglist: [some of the blogs didn’t allow me to tag some blogs, but i wanted to include them anyways!] @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30 @kirikuki @itsemy01 @persondoingstuff  @23victoria @soobinsrose @starjane312 @valentineoxox@imthefunniestpersonalive @justlillythinking @mae-is-crazy @scarletrosesposts @paniniii @bloodyziggy @mister-police   @mrs-sullys-blog @niiight-dreamerrrr @promiseofeywa @wilmalovegood @sssspencerrr @mochi-yu @d4rno @lovekeeho @dreama-little-dreamof-me @bammtoli @strawberryclouds22 @neteyamoa @devil-on-acid​ @a-queen-blr​ @my-name-duh  @mayabritjohn @annoyingstrawberryballoon @0-0h0-0 @glitter-in-my-heroin  @katkat1918

[kelin-is-writing]

kelin may i hear more about rockstar touya \(★ω★)/

I was planning to post other headcanons before going for these, BUT I’ve got some for Rockstar!Touya that are pestering my mind these days and your asks come in the right moment, so bear with me please 🤧

࣪𖤐… ROCKSTAR!TOUYA

The first time Touya knew that he wanted to become a rockstar was in middle school, right at the age of thirteen, his influent CEO of a father was trying to mold him into a carbon copy of himself to rival Yagi Toshinori’s Enterprise. While taking a break from studies, he saw his sister watch on TV a rock concert of “Loudness” and to say Akira Takasaki is his role model is the least. That’s a true legend to him.

After “Loudness” and Akira Takasaki, he discovered “Metallica” and Kirk Hammett which made him go like “HOW??? HAVE??? I??? MISSED??? ALL??? THIS???”, scolding himself for taking so long to fall in love with the electric guitar and its sound. The next week he’s blasting full volume “The Final Countdown” by Europe inside the Todoroki Mansion like the good old stamp rock fanatic he is, getting himself scolded and grounded by Enji who is a fan of traditional Japanese music so yeah…

At one of the Todoroki family gatherings during the weekend, he was scrolling down his phone looking first of all where to take guitar lessons and second for a guitar to buy, but he knew his father would never agree to get him one. That’s when his grandfather, peeking at his grandson’s phone, butted in and asked Touya if he’s interested in music. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to answer that question, since he’s the father of his father, but he did and hell has it been the best thing he did!

On his fourteenth birthday, Enji’s father bought Touya his very first electric guitar, a good old Fender Stratocaster CUSTOM MADE for him. It’s snow white like his hair and has a his name engraved on the bottom left side of the guitar, while on the other side there were engraved tiger’s fangs, all in turquoise… The color of his eyes. And this has been by far Touya’s best birthday ever.

After finishing Middle School he choose to attend an Art School, taking the music classes as main classes of course; he may or not have done it to piss off and raise Enji’s blood pressure from how mad he got for choosing something different from Finances and Management. Oh his father was livid and Touya was so proud of himself for that.

He has formed a rock band, of which he’s the guitarist and vocalist, with Tenko Shimura (Bassist&Vocalist) and Shuichi Iguchi (Drummer) called “The Villains”… Are we even surprised about this name? Really? Because I am not. Tenko suggested, Iguchi supported strongly and Touya just went with it because complaining and thinking about another name was “Too much effort”. He likes it a lot but will never admit it.

At the age of nineteen, Touya owns a Fender Stratocaster (Custom Made), an Elite Stratocaster, an ST-83-80 Japan (1983) black, Lone Star Strat, IC350 black, IC50 black, ICHI00 white, Gibson SG Standard mahogany and a Jackson Pro Series DK Modern HT6 MS. He also owns four acoustic guitars for songwriting, like a Martin GPC-X1E, Martin 000-28 Modern Deluxe, Taylor GS Mini-e Rosewood SN LTD and a Taylor AD22e. Did he pay all them with Enji’s credit card? Hell yeah. Did he do it out of spite? Absolutely. Did he care about his father’s blood pressure rising even more? Not even remotely.

His favorite groups are Loudness, Metallica, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Europe, Scorpions, Slipknot, Three Days Grace, Green Day, Skillet, Linkin Park, The Rasmus, L’Arc-En-Ciel, UVERworld, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses and Evanescence to list some, because there are many more he adores honestly. He isn’t a picky ear as long as the song gives him chills and inspires him, being someone who’s driven by emotions that’s what makes him likes something he hears.

Atsuhiro is their homeroom teacher, at the Art University they attend, who introduces them to Giran, a friend of his, who has an agency for new talents and after they sent him six of their songs wants to launch their very first album by August to make them debut at the “Rock In Japan Fes.”

Touya, being the emotional driven type of musician, is the one put to write the lyrics for the band’s songs and most of the times are hits, especially because his and Tenko’s voice brings to life the emotions of the lyrics in a way that it reaches the listeners right into the heart and soul.

You will never catch Touya’s fingers empty, there’s always rings decorating them and some rings are even custom made by his cousin Geten, who owns a Jewelry shop that he promotes a lot on his social media. One of his most precious rings is the one that he got made for him, with his birthstone carved in it, when he turned eighteen.

He has three earrings on his right ear: an helix, mid helix, conch and low helix. Four on his left one: two helix, a low helix and one on the lobe, plus three nostril piercings on the right side of his nose.

After “The Villains” debuts and proving his father that he could succeed through music without his help nor his name, Touya owns now a black card that he lets Fuyumi and Shoto use to their heart content.

Last, but not least, be ready to be the muse of Touya’s songs the instant he falls head over heels for you. The moment it happens everything, and I mean everything, to him becomes about you driving Tenko and Iguchi to pure exasperation.

[agendabymooner]

the little schuminis || ms47 fic

dad!mick schumacher x mom!ofc

EXTENSION TO SHE’S EVERYTHING… AND HE’S JUST MICK! (SMAU) + MICK, MULTIPLIED (SNAPSHOT)

Summary: Barbie Schumacher was the best mother there is to Mick’s little carbon copies. OR four times when Mick showed his devotion for his kids, and the one time his devotion paid off.

Content warning: Made this in about an hour— did not proofread this but I love it bc F1 driver with kids, All around fluff, Mick issa good dad, Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being wingmen to their kids (Barbie and Mick), Michael’s clowning his own son, many Schumacher kids

Note: @avaleineandafryingpan I know this isn’t much but I hope you love this request babygorl 😭😭🫶 my heart beats for you fr. Enjoy some dad!Mick content xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. the time with minna schumacher’s late night wake up call

Shrill cries of a newborn love was equal to the agony that Barbie Schumacher — formerly Blanco Vettel — felt as she groaned quietly. 3 AM never felt this awful until her firstborn child reached her teething stage, and all Barbie wanted to do was cry like her daughter was doing in her nursery now. 

Perhaps it wasn’t ideal to have a baby at the age of 27. Many people told her that her spouse wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment— that he was still on the peak of his career as a formula one driver. 

And Mick was in the midst of a season when Minna Elisa Schumacher was born. Being away from her for far TOO long was something he didn’t want, but he was forced to leave as soon as Minna reached her 47th hour of her life. Mick never hated something this much until his career made him choose. 

Barbie grumbled as she reached for her nightgown and slipped it on, only for a large hand to pull her back to the mattress as the German man murmured, “I’ll get her, liebling.” 

“Mick…” Barbie hadn’t really wanted to make him get up, seeing as he just arrived four hours ago after his triple header.

“‘s okay, I’ll get Minna,” he muttered, reaching out to kiss his wife’s forehead. “Just go get settled down and you can feed her here.” 

The blond man had immediately found Minna crying in her crib as he cradled her, heading downstairs to grab some iced teether to help soothe her gums. “Shh,” he shushed her gently, the baby’s cry subsiding immediately as she sucked on the teether. “You hungry, liebe? Or ‘s it just your gums?” 

“We have to stop waking your mom up at such an early time, Minnie baby,” he sighed, rocking her in his arms as they made their way back up to the bedroom. “She’s been awake all the time— she works too hard for us.” 

“She’s amazing, no?” Mick asked his daughter as if she could understand every single word he was saying. 

“Ma…” Minna mumbled regardless, clinging to his arms as Mick grinned tiredly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Mick nodded. “She’s working too hard, Minna. I’m glad she’s here to see you grow like this, liebe.” 

“Talking to Minna again, Schums?” A soft voice reached his ears as Mick looked back at his wife, who had her back against the headboard as she smiled tiredly and extended her arms. 

“Of course, Barbie,” Mick chuckled. “She’s got to learn her words, one of these days.”

“No need to lecture her though,” Barbie told him. But it wasn’t anything that she didn’t appreciate; she always liked it when Mick talked to their child like Minna understood everything. He had been doing this since Barbie fell pregnant with the girl— he’d often crouch down or lay next to her bulging stomach to speak to the growing baby inside of her. 

It showed Barbie that Mick was a committed father. It showed that regardless of his situation as a busy driver, he always saw his family as his number one priority. Perhaps that was why Barbie loved Mick so much. 

ii. the time with gisela schumacher’s first ballet show

Gisela Belle Schumacher’s first little ballerina performance was happening in the program facility and everyone made sure to show up. 

By everyone, I mean Barbie’s family, the Vettels, and Gisela’s (or Gigi) aunt Gina, Pippa Michael and Nina Corinna. The two year old was excited to show everyone what she practiced with Madame Pinault throughout her three months of being at the class. 

She was the tiniest girl out of the group, with her bright blue eyes and blonde hair making her stand out in comparison to her peers’ darker tones of hair. The Schumachers and Vettels knew which one to look out for while they waited at the auditorium.

Barbie peered down at her phone and sighed quietly. Mick wasn’t here yet. Stupid flight of his.

At Gigi’s age, she couldn’t easily grasp the concept of people not being able to make it to certain events at the right time. All she knew was that she was going to show her Dada how she could balance on her tiptoes without a problem. 

And of course, Mick couldn’t find himself to break her heart like that. And so, after the Brazilian GP, he took the fastest flight back to Lausanne. 

And there he was, rushing inside the auditorium with the biggest bouquet for the littlest girl. 

Minna’s announcement led the families to look at him as Mick kissed Barbie’s lips and Minna’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mick apologized, “the baggage claim took longer than expected.”

“She hasn’t gone out yet,” Barbie laughed quietly, mindlessly caressing Minna’s blonde hair as she continued to speak, “glad to see you back from the race in one piece, though. With the biggest flowers too.”

Later after the performance, Gigi ran around the Schumacher home with the bouquet bragging about the flowers her Dada had given her. Barbie laughed at the sight of the girl— she was too adorable.

Mick laughed along, as he knew that he’d be more than happy to come carrying the biggest flowers for his girl— even after the longest double header he’s had. After all, nothing can stop him from being the best father to his children.

iii. the time with mika schumacher’s birthday party

“Who decided that setting up a pet display should be this fuc—“

“Mick, watch your words.”

“Sorry, Dad.” 

“Stop going crazy,” Michael said with a frown, throwing the small giraffe plushie at the direction of his son, to which Mick reacted with an ‘Ow!’ after being hit in the face. “This isn’t the first birthday party you’ve handled.” 

“Well this is the first one where ‘pet adoptions’ are a thing,” Mick gestured at the safari animal plushies at hand. “I don’t know what came up to Gina thinking it’s easy to find bulk plushies, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done— and I have three kids, Dad!”

“Because you can’t control yourself,” Michael mumbled, making Mick glare at him. Michael shrugged, “Am I incorrect?” 

Mick couldn’t even find himself to argue with his dad. Six years into the marriage, and he and Barbie already had three kids under seven. 

“I’m just so used to the girls wanting princesses and all of that,” Mick pouted lightly. 

Michael sighed, “Well, now you have Mika— think of him as you. What did you like when you’re a kid? Put yourself in his shoes. Don’t tell me you’re having an existential crisis three kids into marriage? I’m actually gonna be disappointed if you didn’t think that before you had the kids— you’ve been a driver for years!” 

“How can you find a time to joke about it,” Mick sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t even know why I’m here being an ass about my kid’s birthday party.” 

“Because,” Michael told him with a purse of his lips, “you’ve never had a son before— that’s why you’re stressing out about messing up.” 

“I struggled with you for a good while,” Michael shrugged nonchalantly, “Gina was into princesses and pink ponies. You were a boy— I didn’t know what baby boys liked. But I was a racer, that’s why I didn’t have any questions— I still hesitated though because you might like something else and I have to be aware of it.” 

“From what I can tell, you’re doing an alright job so far,” Michael smiled at Mick, patting him on the shoulder. “Miki’s been a happy child. That’s what matters, no?”

“So pick up your sad face and put those plushies up,” Michael said.

A delighted scream came from inside the house as the year old boy escaped from Kimi Vettel’s chasing, giggling as Mika Sebastian Schumacher ran as much as his little legs could handle. 

Eventually he found himself in the arms of Mick as Mika hid from his Uncle Kimi. 

“Da!” Mika screamed delightfully, kicking his legs when Kimi Vettel began tickling the boy. 

Mick and Michael exchanged grins.

Yeah, Mick would continue to put these plushies up if it meant that he’s making his son happy. 

iv. the time with michael ‘mikey’ schumacher’s introduction to the world

Michael Senna, or Mikey, Schumacher was born sixteen hours ago, his tiny body was proof that he was so much like his mother. Yet despite the smallness of his, his facial features and expressions of contentment showed that he was his father’s son. 

Another Mick Schumacher had been born into the world, and Barbie and Mick (alongside their family in Switzerland) welcomed him with open arms. 

And no one was more than excited than the newborn’s namesake, his Pippa Michael, and Sebastian Vettel when meeting the little boy. In fact, they raced through the hospital as soon as they heard that Barbie, Sebastian’s adoptive daughter, had given birth to Mick’s second son. 

Michael was more than happy to meet the boy— just as he was excited to meet his other grandchildren— but to meet little Mikey Schumacher was a moment to remember for everyone. Because that was also the time when Mick announced that…

“I’m retiring,” both Seb and Michael looked at the man with surprised expressions as if they wondered if they heard him right.

Mick explained, “I feel like I’ve lost a lot of time with the kids because I’ve been racing. The kids obviously don’t know how much time I’ve lost because they’re young but… I do. Barbie does.

“It took me a good while to understand what Mika loved— it took me a while to learn how to keep Gigi from having flyaways in her hair during her ballet classes— or how Minnie managed to handle her equestrian routine without Gina or Mom.

“I’ve lost a lot of time,” he said with a small chuckle and a shake of his head. Mick then gestured at Mikey, who remained peacefully sleeping in Michael’s arms as he said, “And with Mikey, I think I can’t afford to do that anymore. I’m okay with one championship only.”

Sebastian broke the silence after, “I’m proud of you Mick,” he smiled softly before reaching out to hug his in-law. “Look at how far Barbie and you’ve come.”

“Back then we had to goad him to ask Barbie on a date,” Michael chuckled quietly.

“It took us eight years,” Sebastian joked.

“Or nine,” Michael snorted.

“We’re still here,” Barbie mumbled in her sleep, “stop making jokes about it.” 

“Still,” Michael said, “we’re very happy for you and Barbie, son.”

“This is where your life begins,” Sebastian nodded, “all you need to do is to tell everyone about your commitments and devotion for your children and wife.” 

i. the time mick’s devotion paid off

Being a retired driver felt great. It wasn’t everyday Mick got to say that— and now he had every chance to. 

Barbie’s family restaurant in Lausanne, one that she named SV et Blanco, had been built years ago— it was the Vettels and Schumachers’ pride. After she graduated from culinary school, Barbie worked as a chef in nearby restaurants before eventually deciding that she wanted a place where family could start their traditions through countless dishes and desserts to try. 

Needless to say, it became a local and even international favourite. Many tourists in Switzerland would try to stop by Lausanne just to get a taste of Kimi Vettel’s favourite spinach and egg soufflé.

And now, SV et Blanco became a place for the Schumachers to spend their time during the Friday afternoons after Minna and Gigi’s classes. Mick would always pick up his daughters with Mika and ten month old Mikey on their car seats.

And after that, he’d come dropping by the restaurant. With Mika on his pram and Mikey on his back carrier, he led the kids into the restaurant as they found their mother making her rounds around the place. 

“Mama!” Minna exclaimed before she and Gigi ran towards Barbie, hugging her around the legs. 

“Oh, excuse me,” Barbie smiled at the guests before she crouched down to hug her girls. “Gigi, Minnie— hello! How’s school!” 

“School is good, Mama!” Gigi grinned. “I got star for writing!”

“That right? Good job, Gigi,” Barbie grinned. “And you, Minnie? How is your school?”

“Okay! I want soufflé though!” The eldest Schumacher pouted lightly. “I wanna see Pippa and Nina!”

“Pippa and Nina! And Sebby— and Mamma Bel!” Mika shouted from his pram.

Barbie giggled lightly before looking up at her husband, “And…? How’s Dada, kids?”

“Dada’s not that busy,” Mick giggled, “hungry for some soufflé though— Minna’s right.”

“Well,” Barbie clapped her hands before standing up, “it’s a good thing it’s our everyday special.”

“Great,” Mick joked. “Otherwise we traveled to Lausanne for nothing.”

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully.

It was a good thing Mick’s devotion and commitment for his kids were paying off. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the retired father that he is now— his kids wouldn’t be adoring their mother as much as Mick did back when they were teenagers and secretly in love. 

[coneyislandbabey]

my mariposa -> w. rojas

WARNINGS: sappiest shit in the world, new dad warren and secondary godfather eddie

SYNOPSIS: just a little domestic snapshot of you and warren as new parents. A follow up to this fic. word count: 1,324

You awoke to peace and quiet. Sleep left you in degrees, until you were laying on your back in bed watching the bright morning sunlight stream through the open window and onto your quilt with a quiet kind of content. For a few blissful moments, you just soaked up the sun and slowly warmed up to the morning. 

And then you sat bolt right up in bed. 

The quiet was too good to be true, too unnatural, considering you were in possession of a two month old baby, and one that seemed to really enjoy crying, at that. You threw the blankets off your legs and stood up, stumbling your way to the door to go to the room next door, which used to be Warren’s until he officially moved into yours (as if he wasn’t already spending most nights in your bed) and was now your daughter, Mariposa’s nursery. 

When you reached the nursery’s doorway, you paused. Warren was standing in front of the crib, your tiny daughter held in front of him as he gently bounced her, softly singing the lyrics to The Rolling Stones’ She’s A Rainbow. Her eyes– perfect carbon copies of Warren’s own warm brown ones– were wide open, staring up at him, and he was staring down at her just as enraptured. You leaned against the doorframe taking in the scene, feeling your heart swell with so much affection you thought it would well and truly burst. 

As Warren finished singing to her, he shifted slightly and caught sight of you in the doorway. 

“Mornin’, mama,” he said softly, grinning over at you. You padded across the room and pulled his face down into a kiss before leaning your head on his shoulder, both of you looking down at your baby girl. 

“Morning you two,” you responded, reaching down to brush a finger against one of Mari’s chubby cheeks. “When did you get up, baby?” 

“Oh, maybe twenty minutes ago,” Warren shrugged. “I came in here and this one was already awake, laying there just looking around. She’s so curious, isn’t that right mi reina?” 

Mariposa gurgled in response, and Warren nodded seriously as if she just imparted upon him some sage wisdom. He shifted her until she was laying against his chest, nuzzled safely in both of his arms. It was his favorite way to hold her; he said it was the best way to feel her breathing and her heartbeat and, of course, that there was no place safer for his little girl than right there in his arms. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” you asked. 

“I’ll have whatever you’re craving,” Warren responded. You nodded, kissing his cheek and then the baby’s before meandering your way down to the first floor of the house. 

On your way down the stairs, you could already hear somebody, or several somebodies, clanking around in the kitchen. When you reached the room, you saw Eddie at the stove, flipping pancakes, and Karen sitting at the table, staring into a glass of orange juice and looking like she was still mostly asleep. 

“Good morning,” you chirped, “d’you need any help, Ed?” 

“Oh, morning!” Eddie said, turning around to you. “Where is she?” 

“I’m assuming you mean the star of the show?” Warren asked, coming into the kitchen behind you with Mariposa. 

“Yes! (y/n), watch the pancakes,” Eddie demanded, departing immediately from the stove with his hands out towards the baby. “Come to your godfather, Posie.” 

Warren handed Mariposa over to Eddie, who held her in the same protective position that her father did, as you took over the job of flipping pancakes. Warren made his way through the kitchen towards you, coming to stand behind you and snake his arms around your waist, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. 

“Hey, lady,” he said quietly into your ear. 

“I swear we just did this upstairs,” you remarked, amused with your fiancè. 

“Yeah, but I was holding Mari so I didn’t get to hold you,” he protested, tightening his arms around you to emphasize his point. 

“You’re gonna make me burn the pancakes, Rojas,” you said, struggling to maneuver the pancakes from the pan and onto the serving plate that Eddie had put out. 

“I’m okay with burned pancakes, Rojas,” he retorted, and you could feel his cheek lift into a grin against your skin. With the last of the pancakes on the plate, you turned in Warren’s arms, slinging our own around his neck. 

“You’re very needy,” you said, leaning in to kiss him. 

“You love me for it.” 

You hummed. “Yes, I do. I think you’re cute when you’re needy.” 

“Oh yeah?” Warren asked, brow arched. “Guess I better start following you around more often.” 

“I don’t think it’s even actually possible for you to follow me around more than you already do. Now go sit so you can eat.”

“Yes ma’am,” Warren nodded, backing up to take a seat at the table. You took the pancakes and the syrup over to the table and set them in the middle of your three bandmates. 

“Okay, Ed, you want me to take her now so you can eat?” you asked, hand on your best friend’s shoulder. He looked up at you, scandalized. 

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head. “I can eat and hold a baby at the same time, thank you.” 

You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Okay, if you insist. Then I’ll sit and enjoy a meal that I can eat with both hands free, in that case.” You moved around the table and took a seat next to Warren, who had already fixed a plate for you. 

“So, I was thinking,” Warren said, turning to you. “We have a free day, so I thought we could take Mari down to the beach? Camila gave us that picnic blanket, we could pack lunch and stay out for the day.”

Camila had gifted the two of you the large orange picnic blanket the other day, saying she’d taken Julia out for the day to the flea market, and when she saw it, she immediately thought of you. You didn’t expect Warren to get as excited about it as he did, and he’d been planning for the three of you to get out and use it the next free day you had. 

Really, you thought it was incredibly sweet. All those months ago when you had first told him you were pregnant, he had promised to be there for you whatever you wanted to do, and you had never doubted that. But as your pregnancy progressed, you found yourself worrying more and more about whether or not he would take to the dad life. If he would want to take to it. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t; you found yourself scared that you wouldn’t take to motherhood all the time, so it only made sense to you that he was probably having the same fears. And, well, you knew it just as well as anybody else that fathers had a much easier get-out-of-jail-free card when it came to checking out of parenting. 

But that hadn’t happened. Warren had fallen in love with Mariposa the minute you told him about her, that much was clear. He talked your ear off every single night about all of the things he was excited to do when the baby came. And when she was born, that love was only solidified tenfold. He held her for the first time, and you’d never seen anyone look so in love with anything before in your life. That love only seemed to grow every single day he spent with her. You marveled all the time at how lucky you were, to have gotten yourself into this situation with a man like Warren. 

“That sounds perfect,” you told him, “We can dress Mariposa in that teeny tiny bathing suit Graham bought for her!”

taglist: @eonnyx

[milliesdiary]

𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟; the bet between us

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; after your parents find out about the bet between you and aemond, they rule out the idea of a possible marriage. you refuse to disgrace the family name by going against their wishes, though aemond makes a very tempting case. 

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭; pic 💗

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; of course aemond isn’t going to give up so easily… i hope you enjoy! :)

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒' 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐂.

“I thought she was to be betrothed to the Lannister’s son? Tyland, I believe. Or was it Lord Jason?” Your father inquires, a forkful of Brunswick stew raised halfway to his mouth.

“Tyland,” your mother corrects. “I mentioned the proposal to his father, but his son has already been sworn to one of Baratheon’s girls. A shame.”

You listen to all this while poking your vegetables around your plate in annoyance. They speak about it like you’re not even here. Maybe this is how it is for every girl your age — allowing their parents to set them up with whoever they see fit, without even asking for the bride-to-be’s opinion. Maybe they refuse to talk about it and just accept their duty.

You, however, are not like other women.

“That it is,” your father agrees. He gestures at you with his knife, his attention on you now. “House Lannister is a noble family. They are one of the wealthiest in all of the realm and possess a power that exceeds other houses among Westeros. They hold a seat at Casterly Rock as well. I wished to form political connections with the King.”

You have heard this all before. Your mother can sense your frustration at this topic, though she does not try to steer the conversation elsewhere. She has been very big on finding you a suitor, much to your distaste. 

“Do you have connections with any other Lords, perhaps?” she asks your father. “Any young men you can introduce to our daughter?”

“There are some I know of,” your father nods. You stare, waiting for him to make an excuse as to why they aren’t a good fit; maybe they’re too stupid, or cowardly, or aren’t husband material. Unfortunately, he says nothing else.

You decide to break your silence.

“No thanks,” you interrupt. “I would rather journey through the Seven Hells than marry a Lord. Or perhaps throw myself at a dragon. Either fate would be better than bedding a man who thinks he controls everyone, especially a Lannister.”

Your mother sets her cutlery down with a clang, a frown on her pretty lips; she’s about to scold you. You prepare for the onslaught. “We do not say such things, young lady. You should be grateful that your father and I have been trying so dutifully to find you a husband.”

You hold back a scoff at that, instead choosing to stuff your mouth with cooked carrots. “I would rather choose a husband myself, thank you very much.”

“If we were to allow you to do so, you would never get married — and stop speaking with your mouth full,” your mother reprimands. “How will you find a husband when you act so carelessly?”

Your father is not surprised by your actions. He knows you better than anyone else; after all, you might as well be a carbon copy of him, in both temperament and attitude. 

Instead of jumping to your mother’s defense, he wipes his mouth with the napkin that had been folded on his lap. “Do not fret too much, dear wife. Our daughter still has time to find a suitor. She has been enjoying sparring lately, which I believe keeps her out of trouble.”

You nod happily. At least he gets it.

“Though she has been making bets with that Targaryen boy,” your father adds.

You almost choke on a mouthful of your dinner; you quickly reach for your goblet and flush it down with multiple gulps of wine.

How does he know that? No one would dare tell him, would they? Shit, shit, shit. This is not good. Hesitantly, your gaze flits up to see your mother’s reaction.

She’s confused. “A Targaryen boy?”

“The prince,” your father says casually. He’s very calm. “The one-eye.”

Your mother’s expression instantly sours in distaste. Remaining nonchalant is difficult, especially when sweat starts to form on your palms. You avoid eye contact with her in the hopes that you won’t break apart. 

“And what bet are we speaking of?” Your mother prods, waiting eagerly for your father’s answer. Her food is long forgotten.

“As the rumors have said, I presume it was one where our daughter would have to kiss the prince if she lost the match.”

You sit up so fast that you knock over your half-empty goblet, the wine spilling everywhere. It makes your mother gasp. You jump out of your seat.

“Shit!” 

“Watch your tongue!” she snaps instantly. 

You stifle a glare at your mother’s scolding and snatch a napkin from the table, soaking up the burgundy liquid. Your father watches with a questioning look.

Of course there were rumors. If any of the men you beat at sparring overheard you and Aemond, they would have easily started to spread news of your gamble out of spite. Those bastards. 

You sink back into your seat, tossing the soiled napkin and avoiding the way your mother’s sharp gaze quickly settles on your face.

“Is that true? You were gallivanting with the…” She hesitates for a moment, unsure if she should continue. “…The cripple?”

You would be furious at the way she described Aemond if you weren’t so terrified. You’re quiet for a couple seconds; something your mother does not appreciate. 

“Answer my question,” she demands. The subject is not going to be dropped; you resist the urge to bang your head on the table. 

“I was just…” you trail off. “I mean…”

Your parents are both just staring at you now; it’s time to piece yourself back together. To calm down. Letting out a breath, you force a shrug. “The bet is true, and the match took place, but I never kissed him. I won.”

The frown your mother wears doesn’t suit her. “Why were you sparring with the prince in the first place?” 

“I never said I liked it,” you groan. A lie. “I just knew I would beat him, so I thought it would be fun.”

Your mother is not happy regardless. “The unpleasant things I have heard about him. I warn you to stay away from—“

Your father cuts her off.

“Have faith. Our daughter is an excellent fighter,” he states sincerely. “Be that as it may, she would never give the Targaryen boy her attention. I can assure you that there was no kiss.”

His genuine trust in you brings feelings of guilt; he has no idea you’re lying.

You can remember the expression on Aemond’s face when you stole him into the alleyway, and the way his lips felt upon your own. That second kiss had lacked all softness. It wasn't polite in the slightest, wasn’t gentle: just panting breaths, as rough as a tempest with the woody scent of him, 

You especially remember the way you had drawn him in for more, and wanted to do some other things that shall not be spoken of… 

“Good. I do not want him to be a bad influence,” your mother says. She does not press the matter any further. 

Instead, she mentions an invitation your house had received. The Blacks requested that you all attend a dinner at Dragonstone later this week. The Greens will be there, she adds slowly, noticing how you perk up.

The only thing you can do now is nod, drown yourself in your plate, and then scurry off to your chambers.

Getting ready for the dinner was harder than you expected.

Your mother is a loving woman. She allows you to do what you want for the most part — but she is also quite elegant, insisting that you dress the same as her.

You must be ‘fit for occasions that call for it,’ she croons. It’s a bunch of bullshit, you think.

“I know you do not want to do this, sweet girl,” your mother sighs, holding up a lace gown. “If you will not do it for me, do it for the Gods.”

“The Gods? The Gods would never make me wear a dress.”

You argue with her the whole time she helps you get ready, turning your nose up at every dress and diamond necklace she brandishes. It’s a struggle that lasts for nearly an hour, and thankfully, she gives up at some point.

You end up in a dark tunic-like dress. It’s similar to what Aemond and Aegon wear, just a bit longer.

It stops below the knee and shows the black pants and boots you wear underneath. The fabric is more stiff and clean-shapen than a regular gown; it doesn’t flow in the wind. The shoulders are extended, and a braided chain is across the chest. Attached to it is a light gray cape that drapes over your back.

The outfit is sharp, serious, and fierce. 

It was something your father got for you during his time at war; it had belonged to the tyrant wife of a general he defeated. Apparently your mother had hidden it because it was too boyish for her liking.

It’s not girly per se, but prim enough that your mother is surprisingly satisfied. “You look like a queen,” she says proudly.

“A conqueror,” your father corrects. “A soldier.”

“Though a necklace and some earrings would do her some good.”

You refuse of course. Luckily, your mother doesn’t force you to wear a single piece of jewelry. She even allows you to do your hair as you want.

Despite it not being your choice of clothing, it was better than the flowy lilac dress she tried to put you in. You would never admit it, but you feel powerful walking into the palace on Dragonstone.

The second you and your parents step into the grand household, Rhaenyra greets you at the castle door instead of the knights. 

It feels like ages since you saw her last — despite it being only a few years or so — yet her face is the exact same somehow, as if aging did not suit her. Her silver hair is swept back into a braided crown, and the red and black dress she wears sparkles with tiny gems. It fits her perfectly and contrasts well with the ruby-gold necklace along her throat. A crooked smile upturns the corner of her lips; she appears pleased. 

Rhaenyra has never once judged you for being unladylike. If anything, she always encouraged it. It was something you appreciated to the greatest extent. 

With a soft expression, you dip your head in a respectful bow. “Princess.”

Her eyes light up at your sincere smile; are you really that grumpy all the time? Is it that rare?

“You look lovely,” Rhaenyra says gently, taking in your outfit. 

“Thank you, Princess,” you say bashfully. She then beckons over your parents from where they stand behind you, dressed in their best clothes. 

“Too much time has passed, Princess,” your father says, allowing a polite grin to dawn his face. Rhaenyra returns it with one of her own.

“That it has, General,” she agrees. “I must thank you for joining us. We are honored to have your family’s support.” 

“It is the least we could do. If anything, we thank you for the invitation,” your mother says gratefully. “Are the Greens here yet?” 

Rhaenyra gives a curt nod. The mention of the Greens make her face drop a bit, but she collects herself quite easily. She extends her arm for you to take as she turns on her heel to face the corridor. “Shall we proceed to dinner?”

Nodding, you accept her kind gesture and confidently stride alongside her, your parents trailing behind and admiring the palace’s decor. 

The dining room is just as you remember it when you walk in. 

Ribbons of amber and bronze from the evening sun filter through the window panes on every side of the room, flooding each nook and cranny with a warm glow. You catch sight of Jace, Luke, and Daemon already seated toward the middle of the table, along with Baela and Rhaena. 

Alicent and Otto sit across from them, busy in hushed conversation. Your attention then flicks over to Helaena and Aegon who are also at the table. Aegon offers you a lewd glance, giving you a filthy smirk; if he feels your disdain, he keeps it to himself. He would probably enjoy knowing you are disgusted with him — such a pervert. You have heard of his antics and want to stay as far from him as possible.

On the contrary, you receive the friendliest smile on earth from Helaena. You feel incredibly warm inside; she does not seem to be the type to judge.

Alicent then notices your presence and dips her head toward you in greeting, a small smile on her face, as well as Otto. They appear to be quite nice. No one comments on your clothing, despite it not matching the silks that the women in the room wear. 

Slowly, your parents lead you to take a seat — and then you see him.

Aemond is situated at the far end of the table, a confident air to him as he leans back in his chair. Cool, collected, and stoic as usual. 

He notices you. And you notice him quite easily as well, thanks to his bright hair.

It’s his greatest asset; as expected, it is dazzling white, pulled back into the usual half-up style. The silky strands cascade far past his collarbones, his black high-neck tunic standing out sharply in comparison. His wide chest pulls the shiny leather tight, fitted to his lean body. 

And his face… Why does he have to be so handsome? How could you have not noticed it until that day you kissed him? 

Aemond’s violet eye meets yours. You both give each other a long, intense stare, like a pair of wild animals who have been starved of one another’s presence. His profile flashes with a feral look; it reveals the dragon he truly is beyond that hardened exterior. 

You are both connected in a second, understanding each other in a way others do not. 

There is a rapid change in Aemond's demeanor then; it goes from something poised to one of interest. His eye scans you up and down, taking in your outfit, your hair, and the cape that is thrown over your shoulder. He appears fascinated as his attention zips back to your face. Your body feels impossibly hot. 

Courageously, you approach the chair next to him and take a seat. Your mother notices from her spot beside you; her face screws up, though she doesn’t make a sly remark. She’s suspicious. 

“My Lady,” Aemond says. His voice is deep, silky, and rich with his distinctive accent. Your stomach turns as a result. 

You inhale sharply and glance at him with that usual boldness of yours. You hold your chin high, allowing a smug grin to glide across your face. “My Prince,” you greet. “I suppose you knew I was coming?” 

“I did,” he says coolly. The tiniest smirk rests on his mouth. “You are not wearing the usual dress of a woman, I see.” Then, bringing his voice to almost a whisper, he adds, “That was part of our bet, was it not?” 

Damn it. You totally forgot. But honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh no,” you say sarcastically. “What a nightmare.”

Aemond exhales sharply to express his amusement. He fixes you with a serious look afterwards. “I expect you to uphold it one of these days.” 

“And I expect you to get off my back about it.” 

Aemond hums at that. He has never been bothered by your sharp words or snarky remarks; he knows you well enough to expect it. He even anticipates it. It’s a little game for him. “Do you not follow through with your promises?” 

“I do.” You pick up your fork to point it in his direction playfully. “But only when it benefits me.” 

Aemond gives a curt nod in acknowledgement. He seems humored. “I did not expect anything less.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are stubborn,” Aemond says coolly. You can feel a heat climb up your cheeks — were you that headstrong? “A woman who does what she wants.”

He is provoking you, that eye studying your face to gauge your reaction. You refuse to give him one. 

“You speak as if you are not the same, My Prince. Have you forgotten that we are alike?” 

The words spark a sense of appreciation in Aemond. He turns his attention to his golden cup, lifting the edge to his mouth; but before he takes a sip, you catch his gaze flicker over to you. It looks like he’s fighting a smirk. 

“You have nothing to say to that, it seems,” you state triumphantly, tone full of mirth. “Have I cut out your tongue?”

“Hmm,” Aemond quietly hums, setting his goblet down. The whisper of a smile is on his face: scarcely present, virtually invisible. “From how I won the match, I would say that you wouldn’t have had the chance.”

The pride in his response is annoying. And even still… the mutual teasing is fun. It’s difficult to express any true anger. You roll your eyes, though the smile on your face doesn’t subside.

“A man in your place should consider himself lucky that his head is still on his body.” You make an effort to sound offended, but fail. “Does something humor you?” 

“You do.”

You almost reel away at his honesty. The way this man has always been able to catch you off guard should be a talent. 

Aemond analyzes your expression, the ends of his lips curled. You take the moment to scowl at him; people have told you that your frown has the power to frighten others into silence, so you pray this is one of those times. 

It isn’t. 

“Will we talk about the other day, or shall we pretend it never happened?” He suddenly asks. The randomness of the question takes you aback. 

You remain silent, chin raising to blink at Aemond dumbly while trying to think of a reply. He can sense your surprise, because his eye gleams with intrigue; he wants to know your feelings on the situation. 

The memory of your kiss with Aemond runs its rough fingers across your cheek, and you’re automatically embarrassed... yet eager. Interested to hear what he may think about it. 

That being said, you fearfully whip your head toward the others; everyone is too involved in their own conversations to hear you both. Slowly, you glance over at Aemond again. 

“What is there to say?” You bring your attention back to your meal and awkwardly move the meat around the plate. 

“Plenty.” 

The chair creaks as Aemond leans back in it; he rolls a silver strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger, waiting for your reply. He obviously wants you to broach the subject.

“My parents found out about the bet, and let me inform you: they would not accept the notion of us being together,” you shake your head. "They do not want me to—” 

“Court a serpent?” Aemond interrupts. 

He remembered what you said — it is a reference to how you called him a dragon that fateful day. He’s always been clever, recalling the smallest things. Perhaps he thinks of himself as one too; a fire-breathing creature, able to set even the largest cities ablaze and leave them to ashes. 

“If that is how you would like to put it.”

You watch Aemond’s lips twist in irritation. He turns his head to stare at the fireplace that burns across the room, deep in thought. 

Just when you think he is done speaking, he talks, his voice melodic.  

“Will you not fight it?” Aemond inquires. 

Your head spins in response to his question, causing your eyes to dart in his direction. He’s not looking at you though; his attention is still on the flames as they flicker, his expression cold. 

“I cannot,” you reply weakly. It hurts to even say it. “My family is too important to me. I must not go against their wishes.” 

Truthfully, you don’t know what else to say. It was unexpected for Aemond to ask if you were planning to turn on your parents.  

You debate saying that you are alright with the idea of being with him, despite not being the type to court someone or marry. That you would never think of anyone else the way you think of him. But you’re not sweet or open about your feelings, so the words are impossible to say. 

Aemond is compelled to glance at you. He has a menacing, dark gaze; the blood of the serpent runs in his veins. Maybe that’s why you always found him so much more alluring than any other man. 

“That is a shame,” Aemond says. He crosses his legs and places an arm on the table, tapping his fingers on the wood. Disinterest is laced in his tone. “I was hoping you would show them the same boldness that you have always shown me.” 

He is testing you. Taunting. 

You want so badly to hate him. Hate him for having an eye the color of violet blossoms and hair like silver diamonds. Hate him for his panther-like elegance and his deftness with a sword.

As much as you wish it, it is impossible. 

You scoff at Aemond, your frown hardening. “So I am to just run off with you? Is that it? I am not the type to do such a thing; you must not know me as well as you think, My Prince.” 

Aemond seems to consider that. You wouldn't know if he agrees because he has schooled his face to be expressionless. It gives away nothing. “Perhaps not.” 

He casts a glance across the table to ensure no one is looking. Then he slightly leans into your space. You breathe in his smoky, earthy scent; it’s an aphrodisiac. 

“You are the only person who has understood me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who will understand you,” Aemond murmurs. “Do you wish to be with someone who does not accept you for who you are? For the things you cannot be?” 

He’s right. Absolutely correct. You two share a connection, a bond flowing from one another. An understanding has always been between you two, hanging in the air. 

The case he’s making could not be more true. It’s terrifying to think about. 

What if your future husband hates your personality? Your behavior, your way of dressing? Would they try to force you to succumb to the stereotypical role of a woman? You don’t think you could handle that. 

A marriage with a man who does not tolerate you would be strained, no doubt about it. Worthy of the Seven Hells, even. The thought of it comes with a painful twist in the chest and a wince. 

“I do not,” you whisper. There’s an openness in his profile now. You decide to make the most of it. “But what shall I do, Aemond?” 

His expression softens at the mention of his name; the lack of an honorary title makes him feel closer to you. 

“Disobey,” Aemond says lowly. He ignores how you appear startled at his suggestion. “The day will come when you need them to respect you.”

“I could never—“

“I will propose the idea to my mother; advise her of the political benefits of a marriage between us. If there is to be a single person who may convince your family of a betrothal, it is her.” 

“...But do you love me?” you ask slowly. It is not in your nature to be so vulnerable, but the question has weighed heavily on your mind. Someone can have affections for another, but it does not always mean love; it can be infatuation, obsession, or lust. 

You want to know how he really feels. 

Aemond remains silent for a moment. It appears as if he is treading over his words, wondering if he should say them. Then, finally, he speaks. 

“I will never want to be married to anyone,” Aemond whispers. “Unless it shall be you as my wife.”

You nearly choke, both astonished and pleased by the answer. It is hard to ignore: Gods, he’s just so perfect. There’s a wild spark in his eye.

“I vow to serve you, to listen to you, to die for you if need be,” Aemond reassures gently. He means it. You can tell. 

“Do you think it would really work? Truly?” 

“I cannot make any promises. But I can give you my word that I will do my best.” 

You think it over: would it be worth it? How would your family react at the proposal? Your mother? Before you can reply, Aemond’s hand slinks under the table to rest on your knee. You almost jump.

His palm is warm upon your pants, the touch tender and graceful. It is not meant to be dirty, but it invokes filthy thoughts in your mind that you have to shake away. You grab at his wrist, the leather of his sleeve smooth against your fingers.

“Aemond—” 

“Let me know your answer,” Aemond starts, training his eye on you. When you don’t reject him, his grip on your leg tightens. “Whenever you are ready.”

In that moment, you come to a conclusion that maybe — just maybe — this issue can be resolved. The space between you can be filled. Aemond shares the same yearning; you can see it in him. 

Wanting each other but being unable to have that connection is not something you want to deal with forever. Aemond is the only one who has completely accepted your true self: the way you are unladylike, your crude remarks, your tough personality. 

Your expression must soften, because Aemond’s does in return.

And, for a moment, you think you might be ready. 

[sniigura-archive]

Adam x Reader x Mammon AU anon again.

You: You should be writing fic instead of me anon!

Also You: *Expands upon my idea in ways I didn't think of and once again proving to me you're an amazing writer <3*

READER GETTING PREGNANT TERTGDFTHYFGTHFV YESSSSS

I feel like Reader would refuse to find out who the father is cuz she KNOWS it would be a shitshow with these two either way (one claiming "ownership" of her and the kid and the other making her life miserable because of it), so as such Adam and Mammon are both the Dad That Stepped Up(tm).

They def fight over whether or not Reader should get an abortion early on (neither of them believe in women having agency over their bodies *sobs*). Adam's so offended cuz he doesn't believe in abortion and is like "how could you suggest murdering my baby????" and Mammon's like "it's a clump of cells and I can't have a pregnant bitch riding a pole" he needs Reader back to work asap. Reader decides on her own to keep it ONLY if they promise to not make her life hell for it (or else bye bye snu snu). Mammon begrudgingly gives her paid leave and Adam begrudgingly accepts that Reader is keeping her job.

When the baby comes the men def both spoil the shit out of them. Adam happily offers to babysit/help out with anything no questions asked, Mammon gives Reader all the money she needs and more for the baby and buying the kid all the best toys and clothes. Reader has the main authority on how the kid will be raised (she does not want her kid to end up like either of them lmao) and the boys just gotta accept it like Yes Ma'am.

WAHHH THANK UU but if you ever need help to like brain storm stuff for a fanfic im your man my dms are always open for that i love going through ideas so much RAHHH

mammon: i can’t have a pregnant bitch riding the pole

adam: why not? pregnant bitches are hot as fuck

reader fighting off pregnancy nausea: can you both leave now pls

reader is so done with these sexists guys 😭 she’s aware that technically she doesn’t need them and she can just leave for another city. she has made enough good financial decisions to make her be able to live a comfortable life with her child with no problems

reader says neither of them will be the father and then they’re like „who else were you fucking 🤨🤨🤨“ NO ONE YOURE JUSZ ANNOYING!!!! reader is lucky the baby is her carbon copy other wise both of them would throw hands with each other

adam probably says it’s his since she has been with mammon for longer and all it takes is one night with him to get knocked up because he’s just that good

i think it’d be interesting once reader is too far along to continue working at the club if that’s when glitz and glam make an appearance. they really want to steal that spot of being favourites with all the benefits. they’re very willing to fill in all the spots. mammon considers it for a hot sec but then he visits reader and is pissed the fuck off that he actually genuinely likes reader. the realisation hits him like a truck

adam and mammon refuse to acknowledge that they’re basically in a poly relationship now with you. they get along surprisingly well as long as the topic isn’t you and the baby. as soon as it’s about you and the baby they remember they are Sworn Enemies

but it also gets very annoying for reader when they agree on something because they’re soo stubborn 😭 poor woman. should have moved away lmaoo

THEM AS DADS!!! precious as fuck. imagine if it’s a girl shishsjs girl dads…….little girl who looks like reader so she has wrapped them around her finger. who can say no to such a cute face 😔

[maplemind]

Ok I’m having thoughts about the Uther / Arthur dynamic…

I think that Arthur was entirely raised by wet nurses / nannies / etc because Uther’s negative feelings were too strong.

I think for most of Arthur’s youth, Uther resented, regretted, and somehow blamed Arthur for the loss of Ygraine. And I think Uther essentially avoided his own son as much as he could get away with.

I think he got so desperate for an heir (and of course the problem couldn’t be with him, it had to be Ygraine’s reproductive system that was faulty), that he didn’t do his research, or didn’t listen to warnings, or somehow believed himself above the potential consequences.

I bet he knew that a life would be taken, but he assumed it would be some peasant of Camelot, maybe a knight, maybe one of his lords, but thought he and his family would be immune and would obviously be spared. Because, y’know, he’s the king of Camelot.

And I think he blamed Arthur for some messed up reason (I mean, ok, grief does weird things to people).

And I think every time he realised Arthur isn’t a carbon copy of him, isn’t the perfect heir (impossibly strong, talented, and stoic) he resents him and regrets that he traded the love of his life for “this disappointment”. Surely magic should have given him the absolute perfect heir? And person so amazing they’re beyond all human comprehension, right? Like Hercules, or Achilles.

Also, the way Uther loses his godamn mind when Morgana is dying in S3, the way he waxes lyrical about how important she is to him, how he can’t live without her… yet Arthur has been dying twice by this point and Uther gets no where near as upset. In fact, he sits with his dying son once, admits that his death is inevitable, then goes about his day without a second glance…

And because of the way his father couldn’t even spare him a glance, let alone a hug, or comfort, or an “I love you, I’m proud of you”, I don’t think Arthur knows what affection really is. I don’t think he truly understands how love feels.

I think that’s why he was so off-balance when he went to save Ealdor with Merlin and saw the way he and his mother interacted. It threw everything he’d ever known into doubt.

Maybe he thought that kind of love, affection, and physical comfort is for poor people, because that’s what his experience told him.

And maybe it made Arthur think - “what if my mother had survived? What if my father’s life had been taken instead?”

And what if Ygraine had lived and Uther had died? I mean, the spell gave Uther an heir to take over when he died, and he got what he wanted, right? So if Uther dies right away… well, you’ve got your heir you wanted, he’ll take your place like he’s supposed to!

Arthur has lived his whole life feeling like he wasn’t wanted - that’s what all the evidence told him. Then he finds out he’s “the reason” his mother is dead and his father is a heartless, emotionless, bitter man?

Holy shinsplints Arthur. No wonder he couldn’t accept the affection Merlin and Guinevere clearly had for him. Maybe that’s why he kept freaking out and throwing it back in their faces, getting angry, pushing them away.

He was scared because he had absolutely no idea how to react to it - no blueprint, no examples, no evidence that his own upbringing and his father’s mentality isn’t normal.

But my god did he try and give out all the love he had stored in his heart, all the love that was wasted on his father and was never reciprocated. My god did he try.

Bless you, Arthur. My heart aches so damn hard for you.

[avatarkv]

To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed, (when you are young they assume you know nothing.)

✎ Synopsis ! You had a special bond with Lo'ak since you were children, but now he's pulling away and you're left to watch him slowly cut the remaining bond you two have. You try your best to reach out, but it appears your efforts are in vain as he moves farther and farther away.

Content & warning: Lo'ak x reader! Lo'ak is kind of a dick here. No happy ending! You wanted angst and I shall serve. (wc; 6196)

Lo’ak didn’t know how to love. He found his freedom in the lushness of Pandora, tumbling off the highest mountains, careening down its curves and entangling himself in the greenery. He often found himself giving in to the feeling of excitement as it rushes through his body, a sudden drop that would take him by surprise but vanish almost too quickly. It was a sensation he enjoyed immensely, one moment of pleasure and the next nothing but a light tickle running down his spine.

He found comfort in knowing that nothing lasts, and like his fleeting adrenaline, everything would die down eventually– it is what it is, his tagline.

He wasn’t an idiot though, knew very well how his crass attitude got under everyone’s skin. The clan would stare differently, whisper a different tone and shift oddly when he came around. Lo’ak stood out like a sore thumb and while it was better than being his brother’s shadow, he hated how it made him feel alien. Oh great mother, he truly was his father’s son.

His head would always hang low whenever he was in the presence of the people and perhaps that’s why he never enjoyed a crowd; was never fond of gatherings or parties. He always found a way to sneak from Neteyam’s watchful eye, much to his dismay. It was a talent, a skill, for him to disappear before you’d even know he was there. 

But he could never outrun you, absolutely hated how you always seemed to be one step behind him. Lo’ak had even lost some of his hiding spots because of your persistence. Tonight was no different; he'd leave, and you'd follow.

“Know you're there,” His hoarse voice called out for you behind the bushes. He was tipsy– eagerly sipping from the flask he stole from the quarters. “You have to try this, come on.”

“I just got here so joke’s on you.” You knew better than to accompany him in this recklessness, knew better than to trail behind him like a second tail. “You’ll definitely get skinned this time.”

You saw in him something that you could never quite put your finger on, something that made you feel drawn to him– no words could explain how you felt weightless around Lo’ak. Maybe that’s why you never let yourself be driven away by all the moments he tried so hard to keep his distance.

“Nah, you never snitch. At least not on me,” You had only shrugged while approaching the log he sat on, pushing back the booze that he tried to hand over. 

He rolled his eyes, how typical of you. “You should get a life. Honestly, it’s creepy how you always manage to find me.” You didn’t mind his unfiltered choice of words towards you anymore. You grew to handle those– the way everything he said once felt like bricks down your stomach, now reduced to the smallest of stings nipping on your chest.

Your personality was a stark contrast to his recklessness, similar to Jake’s eldest. You were on everyone's good side— top of your class, a great healer alongside Kiri, skillful weaver, you name it. On top of that, you had a charisma that made everyone swoon. It never seemed to work on Lo’ak though, he hated the spotlight that adorned you, hated the way you continued to follow him like you meant to put salt on his ever-growing wound. You were everything he wasn’t– the last thing he’d ever want beside him, a carbon copy of his goody two-shoes brother. 

With that, you just didn’t stand out. To him, you were just like everyone else— everything that he isn’t. 

“And you shouldn’t waste yours,” You shot back, “Besides, you aren’t that hard to find anyway.” 

You didn’t miss how he whispered out ‘creep’ under his breath, yet you reveled at the fact that he didn’t ask you to leave. Your hands fidgeted under the present you meant to give him tonight, covered prettily with thick leaves and colorful ribbons. You stood up, casting a shadow above him. “Got you something,”

He looked up at you in surprise, before his expression settled back to the usual disdain. “What is it?” He asked gruffly. You wondered if he was actually interested or just trying to get rid of you faster than usual.

You extended your arms and carefully placed the present on his lap, “Open it and see for yourself.”

He eyed the present suspiciously before he began to take off the leaves and ribbons one by one, revealing a dark-blue velvet box. He opened it slightly, eyes widening as he saw what was inside—a green shawl, adorned with different beads and shells. The pattern was mesmerizing and he found himself running his hand through the cloth, your hard work was evident on the intricate design.

You smiled shyly, “Thought it’d look really nice on you.” He pulled out the shawl and examined it in his hands before looking up at you quizzically as if he didn’t know how to respond. The silence was palpable, heavy with anticipation. 

Oh Eywa, you make it so difficult for him. “Jesus, you can learn a thing or two from Kiri.” 

You felt your heart sink, mood completely soiled. You were sure he would’ve loved it, had to ask around the other Sullys’ of his favorite color or if there were certain trinkets that irritated his skin so you’ll know what to not put. 

“You don’t like it?” It was hard not to miss the sadness in your voice and it made him wince. 

“Thought you would’ve known by now that I’m not interested,” He said, sipping one last time from the flask, before standing up. “You’re this desperate?” You heard him mutter, followed by a low chuckle as he walked away.

This time, you couldn’t be bothered to go after him, feeling the familiar heartache creeping back and gluing your feet down the soil. Your eyes were transfixed by the fire in front you. Despite how it burned brightly, loudly cackling, you can’t help but feel cold. He was achingly near and yet far from your grasp. You wonder when things changed– when he became distant and cruel.

The flames danced around each other as if in a passionate embrace but the sparks never reached you. The ache in your chest started to grow, a heavy reminder that you could never get too close. You stay hopeful- that maybe one day, he will come back and things will be different again.

You remember when you first met him, so charismatic and full of life. You felt like a magnet was between the two of you, a link that kept drawing you closer. His voice was warm and his eyes were gilded with kindness. He made it hard to say no.

You watched him change, knew very well how different he became as he grew older. Aside from how his figure had drastically changed, muscles more firm and visible, his features were something worth staring for hours— it was no secret that their parents' genes were good. While Neteyam was the splitting image of his mother, he was Jake’s. 

You remember being taller than him when you were kids and you enjoyed teasing him for it every minute. It was an inside joke you had when you were kids, that he couldn’t come in adventures because of the required height. He was so easy to piss off, but you didn’t relent when the other clan’s kids poked fun on him for other things. 

“My sa’nok said not to play with you, because you are demon!”

The others nodded in agreement, making little Lo’ak’s eyes burn brighter with tears. “You are not even true na’vi, no na’vi has five fingers!”

“I am Na’vi!” Lo’ak tried to hiss, but it only came out as a high-pitched scream, clutching the wooden model of Toruk Makto close to his chest. “If dad hears about this, he will— 

“Boo, a tattle-tale! Just go home, freak!” 

The laugh died down when one of the kids felt a rock thrown just behind his head. He immediately turns, forehead creased. “Hey!”

“Leave him alone!” You were high up the tree branches, loading your make-shift slingshot and aiming it towards them. “Lo’ak belongs and if you say otherwise, I’m hitting you again!” 

They had scurried after the second hit, seeing how the pebbles had changed into bigger rocks. You were in big trouble after that though, but you remember Lo’ak sitting by the entrance of your hut, legs swinging as he patiently waited for you. A friendship bloomed that very day, or maybe something more– or so you thought. You and Lo’ak grew up together. 

You sighed, finally standing up and making your way back to your hut. 

You watched him change and you wouldn’t think in a hundred of years that he’d be the one to make you feel alien. It became more and more apparent that Lo'ak didn't want anything to do with you and you could never fathom why.

“Kiri!” You yelled, running towards the group. 

Lo’ak loudly groaned. “Did you have to invite her?” 

“Well you invited Spider, it’s only fair that I bring a friend in too.” Kiri answered in the same sassiness as his brother and it made him roll his eyes. She took your hand and tightly held on to it.

“She’ll just be dead weight— a burden along the way.” He spoke so harshly of you like you weren’t standing there in front of them. You rubbed your arms in embarrassment, “She literally follows me around every chance she gets, give me a break.”

Spider jabbed him from the side, “Dude don’t be a dick, just let her come.”

His eyes widened as an idea seemed to have passed his mind, “How about we fly together instead?” Your slumped shoulders rose in anticipation as you waited for him to continue, “Later, when I get back. Wait for me at our usual spot.”

Kiri wasn’t having any of it though and she immediately shoves Lo’ak, “I swear to Eywa, whatever you’re planning.” 

He raises both his hands, “Relax, I just want quality time with you guys— is that too much to ask?” It was hard not to sense the mischief in his tone, but the way he had hurriedly pulled them away from you gave no room for negotiation. You watched as they walked away with Lo’ak’s arms slung on each of their shoulders. 

You were oblivious to his true intentions, yet you carried on with your duties hurriedly throughout the day. Your mother could see the glint in your eyes, how you eagerly waited for the day to be over. You were excited, you felt like your chest could explode. Lo’ak had finally asked you out after years of trying to get on his good side again– years of pining and dedication and you hoped to have finally softened his calloused heart again. You felt your mother kneel behind you, taking the comb from your hands and brushing through your hair herself. 

“Someone’s getting all dolled up, what’s the occasion?” She teased, parting your locks to braid.

You smiled, fingers playing with the many beads you wanted to put on your hair. “Going out with Lo’ak today,” You answered, “We’re flying our Ikrans before eclipse.”

You heard your mother sigh and it was hard not to be disheartened. She knew of all your dilemmas about the boy, all the rants and tears you had shed. “Oh, my sweet child. You know Lo’ak, he’s not the same boy he was when you were kids.” 

“I know that but,” You drew a deep breath, shoulders slumped for the nth time today, “he promised this time, you know?” 

“Ma’ite, you tire your heart and for what? You accept him with open arms and you return empty-handed. Maybe it’s time you give love a chance to someone more willing– someone who would reciprocate.” Your mother had turned you towards her and you could see the worry evident in the creases of her eyebrows and the pity in her eyes. “It’s been years, allow yourself to grow.” 

Lo’ak was worth more than your heart– you’d give him everything if you had to, but there was something with your mother’s words that unraveled more than a hurtful understanding. You weren’t a kid anymore and so was he, yet you stayed the same girl who stayed by him. 

You carried her words throughout the day and here you were now, sitting by the boulder at you and Lo’ak’s spot, still hopeful for his coming. 

The sun burned and faltered, eclipse neared and there was still no sight of him. You waited eagerly, dully watching the nearby animals that passed as each hour came and went. But as every hour dragged on, your hope began to dim until at last you realized that he wasn't coming at all. With shoulders slumped and gaze low, you trudged back back the same way you came, head low and heart heavy.

Your heart sank as you crept through the village, eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion; but even more so from disappointment. You returned, hoping against hope that it was a misunderstanding and that this was only a matter of miscommunication. But what greeted you at last made it all too clear. There sat Lo'ak, oblivious to all else around him, flirting and laughing carelessly with Sa’yu, a known songstress.

Your eyes burned from the sight. As the emotions rose up like a huge wave, you found yourself unable to stay any longer. You turned away, heading back to your hut. You were boiling with emotions, the urge to lash out at the one responsible for consuming your every thought. 

When did they even become close? How come you’ve never noticed both of them in one picture? It was confusing and above all, it was unfair. The night carried on with your restless thoughts. 

“You’re saying Lo’ak didn’t show up?” Kiri asked, voice tight with irritation. You were making bracelets with her as you told Kiri of the occurrences last night and she seemed more upset than you were, “And him and Sa’yu? Oh great mother, allow me to knot that skxawng’s braid and tail together.” 

“It’s fine, why do I even bother.” 

She flicked your forehead in return, “You’re too nice for your own good, it’s sickening. This is clearly all on Lo’ak, stop enabling his angsty-teenager phase.” Kiri looked at you, eyes focused on the colorful beads and thread, “See, and you’re even making him a bracelet. Even I don’t know what made him change.” 

You sighed, lowering your work. “I don’t know, I don’t know. How do you unlove someone you’ve learned to love all your life?” 

“Barf. You and your dramatics,” She tried to humor, but when she saw how your frown only deepened, Kiri sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder. “__, why do you even stay?”

“What?” Your eyes finally meet hers, 

“I mean, he has been telling you to leave him alone– that he wants you out, so why do you stay?”

It was a harsh blow, but nonetheless needed. Why did you stay? “Because,” You frustratedly palmed your face, running your hand through your hair harshly. “Because there’s this small part inside me that knows what we had before is still salvageable, that he’ll come around and back to me again.”

“Skxawng!” Kiri scolded, following close behind her brother. “__ is a nice person, you of all people should know that.” Lo'ak sighed wearily, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. He was expecting it would come to this eventually, but avoided thinking about it as long as he could. "Where is this going, Kiri?"

"You stood her up," She crossed her arms tightly, one eyebrow raised, “And you with Sa’yu? When did that happen?”

He groans, throwing his head back and massaging his temples. “There’s nothing going on between us, can’t I have any friends?” 

Kiri stepped back, narrowing her eyes. She had always been protective of you and never hesitated to call out his brother’s wrongdoings. After a few seconds of silence, she finally spoke up, “Nothing wrong with you meeting new people, but what’s your deal with __?” 

“Nothing, I swear.” 

“Oh?” Kiri’s eyebrows perked up in surprise and her head tilted inquisitively, a small smile playing on her lips. “Invite her to the dance then,” she suggested.

Lo'ak's eyes widened in disbelief; He knew there was no way he could blatantly ask you out, not with the way things were between you. “What?”

“You heard me. If nothing’s wrong then have her as your plus-one for the clan’s gathering,” She challenged, “Apologize to her right now for last night.”

“Fine, I will. You’ll see.” Kiri grinned and clapped her hands together, not doubting Lo'ak's determination in the slightest. She knew just where to strike his ego. "That's my brother! Now go, before I change my mind." 

Lo’ak only nodded sharply, not wanting to get into an argument with her. He knew better than to get on his sister’s bad side, Eywa might strike him down this time or something. She pursued her lips, motioning him to go and find you. With a last roll of his eyes, he left. 

Lo’ak didn’t know how to love and maybe he would never. 

He swears the moment he had tried desperately to shake you off, but you lingered like a tattooed kiss, every inch of skin burning from when you once held him. He knew then that no matter what he did, there was no escape from these emotions that always rekindled.

Lo’ak knew where to find you, so he followed the familiar path of gravel that led straight towards your hidden spot. Sure enough, there you were sitting in all your beauty and grace. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, taking solace in the fact that a place like this was someplace both of them once considered home; a place where both of you felt safe from any troubles. 

“__,” He called out for you and your head sharply turned to where he stood. Your creased eyebrows softened, feeling last night’s emotions rush back to your system. 

“What do you want?” You immediately averted your gaze back to your work. 

He sighed as he walked towards you, sitting on the spot beside you. “I’m..” He frustratedly nipped on his bottom lip, “I’m sorry.” The apology felt unfamiliar on his lips, and it lacked sincerity. But how could you possibly turn away from him? Maybe this was the slow progress you had been praying for; small steps in the right direction. Your mind had already been made up before he even said sorry, but hearing it out loud seemed to be making a difference. 

“Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” Your voice was low and your eyes still didn’t meet his.

“I do! I really do, I just.” He tried to think of a reason, tried to make you finally look at him. “I’ve forgotten, it slipped out of my mind.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his pathetic excuse. 

He didn't miss even the slightest action that suggested your irritation. Lo'ak scooted closer, thighs now touching, “To show how sincere I am about my apology, let me take you to tomorrow's dance.” This caught your attention and made your ears perk up; he saw it and felt his heart swell with hope. Taking this as an encouraging sign, he continued. "I’m really sorry.”

He was only sorry for last night but for you, it felt like an apology worth all the time he had forced you away. You finally glanced at him, sighing deeply. “Fine, on one condition.” 

His eyes widened, heart racing in anticipation. “What?” He asked.

You held his hand as you proclaimed, “You confide in me again.” Your eyes brimmed with emotion, radiating a deep sincerity. “I miss you and I mean it,” you said softly. He could barely stutter out a response, his throat tight and mouth dry from the intensity of the moment. His heart was thundering in his chest and suddenly he felt hyper-aware of how close the two of you were standing to each other.

Before he could even speak, you reached for something behind you– the bracelet you were making with Kiri. “And wear that tomorrow for the dance.” You had smiled so softly, it was hard for him to say no. Lo’ak took it, taking in your craft and its details again. You always knew how to make something simple so much more. 

Much to your surprise, he stayed there, watching you work as the day burned.

He knew he couldn’t escape this one gathering. 

It was for them– the clan’s young warriors who had power through the many trainings. The party was in full bloom; decadent music pulsed through the night air and the bonfire burned brightly at the center. Voices filled the room, rising up and entwining with the melodious drums and feet lightly tapping against the dirt to a distant rhythm. People delighted in the lively environment, standing proudly while their parents praised their children for a job well done. 

Lo’ak stood at the corner, heart raising in anticipation as he searched for you amidst the growing crowd– you were surely taking your sweet time. He had to pry his mother's hands from adjusting his clothing every second (especially when Kiri announced that he had taken you as his partner.) He sipped on his drink, nodding in acknowledgment when people tried to strike a conversation. 

Everything seemed to still and it was like he knew that you had arrived. He twisted his head to where you were and you had already taken his breath from a distance. You stood there, slender frame more outlined with the top you were wearing that seemed to hug your curves just right, outlined by a sliver of light from beyond. You were alight with youth and beauty; skin glowing like honey, eyes bright like a summer sky and lips plump with promise. Your hair danced around shoulders, curls not in your usual braids.

His eyes weren’t the only one following her figure. Everyone’s heads turned as you seemed to search for a familiar face. Lo’ak’s heart swelled in pride knowing you were finding him. With that, he made his way towards you. 

The way he called out for you felt surreal– like nothing bad had ever severed your bond. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good himself, paint drawn intricately along his body and accentuating his build. You smiled in return and it seemed to fluster him. 

“You look,” His shoulders were stiff, heavy with words he wanted to say, “good. You look good.” 

You chuckled as you spun softly, showing off your hard work, “Oh, this old thing?” Lo’ak snickered in reply. 

The first few minutes spent in his company were awkward, as none of you knew how to start a conversation. But after a few drinks and some lighthearted japes about the warriors had been shared amongst each other, laughter soon filled the air and from there it was easier to keep talking. You felt more relaxed and he seemed especially eager to share his stories, almost like it had been pent up from lost time. 

You couldn’t help but stare. She remembered when times like these had been natural, normal; not a problem between them. Lo���ak looked so carefree again, like before. Her chain of thoughts were cut off when the music mellowed down and the elders persuaded their children to dance. 

In the distance, he could feel Kiri’s gaze burning the back of his head. Lo’ak cleared his throat as he stood, nervously cracking his knuckles. Your name rolled out his tongue again– his voice sounded small in his own ears as he asked if she would like to dance with him, but you smiled brightly anyway and answered yes without hesitation.

When you reached the center amidst the sea of other swaying bodies, Lo'ak held out an arm for you tentatively while keeping some distance between them so as not to appear too forward or overbearing. He felt awkward, disgustingly sweaty under his own skin despite the cool air. You had other things in mind; stepping closer and holding your hand out for him, skipping the formalities but maintaining a respectful distance. You squeezed his hand gently and started swaying slowly next to him, encouraging him with soft words of support until Lo 'ak finally began to dance with you. 

A slow, floating piece of music played by the people filled their senses as you moved together in soft steps– weaving around each other with a sensual gracefulness only shared between two known lovers. You swayed to the rhythm, moving from one side of their small area to another. Lo'ak opened his arms to you, an invitation that did not need to be verbalized. With your finger lightly trailing along his hand, you stepped closer and fell into step alongside him.

Your fingers fit perfectly against his, like the spaces between were meant to be filled by you. He tightens his hold, rubbing his thumb over yours– he had never craved warmth until your body was close to his. 

He looked at you, and it wasn't in a way that could make you feel small; quite the opposite. It was as if he were making you feel invincible, as if his gaze alone was enough to make you soar higher than any Ikran could ever take you. His eyes brimmed with love and compassion– feelings which you have yearned all these years. You felt like he was giving you hope again, even for just that moment when all seemed so still yet full of emotion.

He leaned forward, so achingly close, you could feel his breath on your skin as it lingered just on top of your lips, suspended in time and space. Your heart beat quickly as you closed your eyes expecting a kiss but it never came– Sa'yu's voice called out for Lo'ak. You stepped back abruptly looking away from him, eyes sharply turning to the incoming girl. 

It was like your heart had suddenly burst into a million pieces. Sa’yu stood there all pretty, wearing the green shawl you had made for him, along with the multiple gifts you had given. You looked at Lo'ak in disbelief, eyes wide and wet with tears. You were unable to comprehend the spiraling ache in your stomach, feeling as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. 

Finally, after countless moments of silent stare downs and tensed up muscles that screamed for action, you turned away from him and sprinted away as fast as possible hoping it would be enough distance from him.

Lo’ak would never change and he’ll never be the boy you held close when you were younger.

For once, he was the one who went searching for you.

He kept calling for you, his voice ringing loudly through the forest and disturbing all of the animals in its vicinity. As you began to feel your breath become choppy and labored, you turned to him with a piercing look and he felt his heart becoming constricted by an unyielding force. His mind raced with emotions as he thought about the severity of the moment, how one gesture could so easily upend everything he thought was set in stone. 

“You gave her my gifts?” Your voice cracked and he fought the urge to wince,

Of course he took an out. Of course he had to make it hurt, so when he felt the low snicker that erupted from his lips, he knew there was no turning back already. “What was I supposed to do? Wear those hideous things and let everyone know you have some sort of hold on me?” His tone was mean, unlike his actions just moments ago,  “It’s embarrassing— you embarrass me.” 

You didn’t let that falter you, not when you had him so close already— not when you almost had him again. “Look me right in the eye and tell me you didn’t feel even the slightest tingle in your heart when you held me near,” You placed your hand right in his chest and you swore you felt his breath hitch, heartbeat racing from your hold. “The dance, we.. we were about to kiss!” 

“Jesus Christ, you’re insufferable.” Lo’ak harshly shoved you away, “Kiss? If it weren’t for Kiri, I would not have even danced with you!” 

You heard nothing but your sobs and his harsh breathing. After a beat, he spoke again. “What made you think that I would ever be with someone like you?”

“What happened to us?” You asked, almost in a whisper, but when he tried to turn his back and leave, you had gripped on his forearm. “No, for once, finish your shit— just what am I now, Lo’ak?” 

“A damn mistake, that’s what you are.” His voice was firm and unrelenting. “So for once, listen when I say I want you gone. Don’t want you anywhere near me, or if you’re that skillful, try to even avoid my line of sight. I don’t know how much more I can take of your clinginess but believe me when I say, I am so sick of you.” 

“We were okay! When we were kids, we–” You tried to reply in the same fierceness, only to be cut off again.

“__, we were kids! Did you think that we were gonna stay the same?” He spoke your name so softly before, as if it was meant only for him and not the world around him, but now it sounded so terrible coming out of his mouth.

Another moment of quiet settles over the area. You watch Lo'ak's face contort into someone you didn't know, someone awfully unfamiliar.

“Yeah, maybe it was stupid of me to think that we would be the same.” You had let go of his arm, drying the tears off your face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak would never change and he’ll never be the boy you held close when you were younger.

You were the first to walk away, not even turning your head back to glance at his stiff figure. It took everything in you to take that step forward, knowing that this could be the last time you ever hear his voice again, let alone see him, but you had to. 

Something died that night. Something he was so sure he had already buried long ago.

At first, he reveled in the silence. Lo’ak didn’t realize it at first, didn’t realize how you had been avoiding him these days. He found himself near the cliffs again, wanting to clear his head by diving head-first down the water, wanting to feel the same rush of adrenaline his body yearned for. He found a higher platform, more daring and scary. With a sharp inhale, he took a leap.

The shout that ripped out his throat once he emerged from the water was relieving, his heart pounding madly as he tried to scan the area for who knows what. 

“__, did you see that?” He shouted and it took him by surprise when he called for you.

You weren’t watching near the edge of the rocks and realization hit him harder than the crashing waves. Lo’ak had successfully pushed you away and now the hollow spot in his chest where you once resided was the only thing left to accompany him. This was what he wanted all his life and now that you were gone, he was left to ponder why. 

Perhaps he hated how you drifted away from him, hated how he was hyperaware and thought the worst out of everything.

When you’re young, everyone assumes the worst– like you know nothing, but the very moment you stood up for him when no one did, he knew very well that you’d stick by him for a very long time. Lo’ak liked that idea, loved the thought of hearing your voice everywhere his feet went and your lingering touches. Loved how you could make something simple so intimate like when you’d aimlessly draw on his palm with your fingers, tracing along the lines and stripes or how both you had a favorite star. 

You were supposed to be like him– supposed to be with him. Not with his stupid brother who had everything already. 

When you were at the age of training with the other kids, he had watched from the sideline as you progressed quickly, more better than him. Nothing could save him from the dropping ache he felt down his stomach from the night where everything had changed. It was innocent, the usual stargazing you both did when it was already eclipse. 

You both laid together on the moist grass, fingers pointing to wherever. You were at your usual spot, enclosed with tall trees, plants, and a huge boulder Lo’ak enjoyed climbing with you. It was surrounded with moss and grew flowers over time. 

Lo’ak’s body turned to you, “What do you wanna be when you’re older?”

It was like him to ask questions– always the curious boy he is. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved that he always asked; made you feel interesting, like something inside you was worth learning. “Mighty?” You hummed as you tried to think again, hand gripping the end of your chin. You turned your body towards him as well, and you could see him waiting eagerly– like what was to leave your mouth was dire. 

“Like.. like a warrior! Yeah, a warrior– not much to do here anyway, huh? Someone like Neteyam, maybe. Wanna train hard and make everyone proud.” 

Maybe it was foolish of him to think that you’d bring his name up when you talked about your future, but never did he expect his brother’s. Lo’ak felt a wave of epiphany. It was like everything clicked; the stars themselves aligned and the air blew a lighter wind because he swears he saw more clearly that night. How your features accentuated under the bioluminescent plants and how your eyes glowed a brighter hue when you talked about your passion; you were just like the others. 

You wouldn’t progress with him weighing you down, knew that you should be hanging out with the other kids. Lo’ak wasn’t stupid to not hear how your name had made its way to the clan’s gossips when they talked about him, how others would exclude you because you were friends with him. You wouldn’t progress with him and he knew it. He’s different and that’s what he’s been told all his life. 

“You’ll be the mightiest warrior in the clan, I’ll make sure of it.” He laid on his back again, heart heavy. You couldn’t help but stare at his face while his eyes traveled along the littered stars. Lo’ak was every nice word you could think of, every word you knew– loved him to bits and pieces. To you, he was the embodiment of the sky itself and he owned every goddamn star and planet and it’s evident on his freckled face.

While his plan did work, seeing how you had become top of your class and well known, it hurt him that he stayed just the same– still that young boy that knew nothing better. 

What he didn’t know was when drowsiness had overtaken him that night, you still pondered on the question, still contemplated with your words and how you were going to deliver the message you desperately wanted him to understand.

“Wanna stay with you, most of all.” Your fingers fidgeted and your voice started out small, “It’s stupid, but aren’t we stupider? Think we should always stick together.” You tried to be subtle with asking him to stay– to never leave. You were kids, too early for grown up talk and mates, so just how could you tell him that you loved him beyond your years? When you didn’t get an answer, you glanced at his figure only to see how he had fallen asleep, chest softly rising every breath. One day, you’ll get to tell him. 

But time had run out and there were no more chances left to give. Lo’ak had exhausted every possibility and all his opportunities were gone. He was sure he had broken your heart beyond repair.

Now if Lo’ak had to speak about love, for all he knows, he’d talk about you. 

☆ mauve here! GOD DAMN this is the longest i've ever written and not even for a chapter for my sully fam fic, i'm ashamed. finally wrote something for my sweet lo'ak !! i love him please. thank you so much for requesting this, had to wrack my brain and shit, but i think it's very worth it.

criticisms are welcome! this is such a lengthy post, i can't even tell anymore.

tags: @aonungsmate

© avatarkv, do not repost.

[angelasscribbles]

Bad Parenting Chapter 3: Settling In

Series: Bad Parenting

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: (Riley x Liam x Max) + Riley x Drake

Featuring: Leo, Oliva, M!OC Hudson Rys and F!OC Lilith Nevrakis

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 1,622

A/N: Wow. I posted chapter 2 almost two years ago! 🙃I had thought this was more or less abandoned at this point but.... well, here we are.

My other stuff: Master List.

Original series this spun off from: Bad Romance. More specifically Bad Romance Disney Adventure.

After the events in Disney Adventure, Leo finds himself in possession of his thirteen-year-old son Hudson for the summer. Unfortunately for him, Hudson isn’t that impressed with Leo’s newfound desire to be a father.

Hudson reluctantly agreed to let Leo show him around the palace. His sulkiness gradually gave way to awe as his errant father regaled him with not only tales of Cordonian history but his childhood growing up in the palace.

“Ok, you and Uncle Liam I get. Why did the other kids live here?”

“Oh, well,” Leo grew serious. “They lost their parents. Well, Liv lost both of hers. Drake and his sister Savannah lost their father, then their mother kind of…. Left them here and went back to the U.S.”

Hudson’s face hardened. “So, they had a mother like mine?”

Leo’s heart went out to the kid. Genevieve had rather abandoned him to pursue her own interests. Guilt sliced through him as he wondered if being in his son’s life sooner would have made a difference. “Bianca had her reasons. The ranch her father left behind really did need her, and she was sunk in her own grief. I’m not saying it was right, but her kids were given a choice, and they wanted to stay here.”

“Must be nice to be given a choice.” Hudson slotted his hands into his pockets and turned his head away. His usual surliness had been replaced with sadness.

Leo wasn’t good with emotions…. Or words…. But he was good with adventure. “Hey, want me to show you the secret passageways?”

“What?” Hudson’s head jerked up and his eyes widened. Curiosity sparked through him. “Honest to God secret passageways?”

“Oh yeah. Some of them are used by the guard, but there a few that only the royal family know about.”

Won over by the thought of being let in on an exclusive secret, Hudson felt excitement stir in his chest. “Yeah, that sounds cool!”

After a morning of exploring the palace, they met Regina for lunch.

“I thought the dining room would be bigger.” Hudson glanced around the elegant, but perfectly normal sized dining room.”

“This is the smallest one actually,” Leo informed him, “For the exclusive use of the royal family. We host guests in one of the larger dining rooms.”

“How many dining rooms does this place have?”

“Eight,” Regina answered as she crossed the room to greet them. “Four small, private dining rooms, three larger banquet rooms and of course, the grand dining hall for state events. Leo, how lovely to see you. It’s been far too long.” She hugged her stepson tightly and then turned to eye the carbon copy that had followed him in. “And you must be Hudson. I’m so happy to finally meet you! I’m Regina.”

Hudson executed an awkward bow. “Nice to meet you too, Your… majesty?”

“No need for that, young man. You can call me Regina, or Grandmother, if you like. Can I hug you?”

“Sure….”

She embraced him, then held him at arm’s length as her eyes ran over his face. “You look so much like your father did at this age!”

“I do?” Hudson sounded surprised. He wasn’t sure he believed it. His eyes slide sidewise to take in the man that had fathered him. Leo was objectively good looking. The very image of a fairy-tale prince. He didn’t look like that, did he?

“You do! Now, come, sit. I’ve had the kitchen prepare cheeseburgers for lunch. I was told you like those, is that true?”

The boy perked up at the mention of his favorite food. “Oh, yes!”

They sat at a long table. Hudson counted ten seats. Food was deposited in front of him, in addition to the cheeseburger, there were French fries, tater tots, and onion rings. Regina assured him that their chef had thoroughly researched American cuisine. There was also salad but only Regina had any.

Regina seemed nice, and he warmed up to her quickly. It wasn’t her fault that his father was a deadbeat.

Halfway through the meal, Leo’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, his face lit up. “Oh! It’s Bert! Max must have told him I’m in town!”

“It’s okay,” Hudson told him, “Take it. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m inside a fortified palace with my grandmother.”

“Right.” Leo felt a pang of disappointment that the kid was fine without his attention, followed by a sliver of relief at getting a break from the constant crushing disappointment that fatherhood had so far turned out to be. “I’ll be right back.”

Regina hadn’t ruled by Constantine’s side all those years without learning to pick up on subtext and body language. “How are things going with your father?”

Hudson snorted. “He’s not much of a father, is he?”

“I’m not excusing Leo’s behavior,” Regina said carefully, “but I think he finds it hard to connect with people because of his trauma, so he tends to keep them at arm’s length. Again, I’m not excusing him for not being in your life up until now, but there’s a good chance he stayed away because he thought he was doing you a favor.”

“Doing me a favor, how?”

Regina sighed as she wiped the grease from her fingers on a monogrammed linen napkin. “I know it’s hard to tell from his blustery manner and constant sarcasm and jokes, but Leo struggles with feelings of self-worth. He was abandoned by his birth mother, that has a lasting effect on a child.”

Hudson felt that like a gut punch to the stomach. “Yeah, well, then he should have known better than to abandon his own child.”

Regina gazed at him appraisingly for a long moment. It wasn’t her intention to sew division between the child and his mother, but she did want to defend the man she thought of as her son. “Are you aware that he didn’t know you existed until you were ten?”

He paused with a french fry halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“You were eight years old when the paternity claim was filed. You were nine by the time we had the results. The crown receives at least twenty paternity claims a year against one member of the family or another. The men in question never see most of them. They get vetted through our legal department. If there’s enough evidence that the mother is telling the truth, a paternity test is conducted. You were nine by the time it was determined that Leo was your father. Child support, including retroactive support, was approved by your Uncle Liam. Unfortunately, Leo was out of the country, and by the time he was located and advised of your existence, you were ten.”

“Still…. That’s two and a half years….”

“As I said, I’m not excusing anything. But it’s not like he knew from the beginning.”

Hudson hesitated, his eyes darted to the doorway, then back to his grandmother. “You said he experienced trauma?”

She nodded.

“What kind of trauma?”

“His mother left. His first stepmother was murdered. He was the victim of an assassination attempt, and then his brother was injured in an attack that was aimed at him. He carries that guilt. He carries the guilt of abdicating and dropping all this on Liam. And his father was not emotionally present. He had no role model for this.”

“I mean… his brother seems like a good dad. He could have tried.”

“He’s trying now. Maybe that could count for something?”

Hudson made a noncommittal hum as he returned his attention to the chocolate milkshake the kitchen had made especially for him.

Despite his disdain for his father, he couldn’t deny that the entire palace had rolled out the red carpet to welcome him.

A kid could get used to this.

They spent the afternoon swimming. The palace pool was impressive, but it didn’t take long before he was complaining of boredom.

“How could you get bored in this pool?” Leo gaped at him. He brought him to the largest of the palace’s three pools. The one with water slides, waterfalls, fountains, bubblers, a lazy river, a volleyball net, three basketball hoops, and four hot tubs.

“I mean…. It’s great, but it would be better with more people.”

“People that aren’t me, you mean?”

Hudson shrugged. “Just…. Kids I mean.”

“I could call Max and get Ellie and Xander—”

“I mean kids my age!”

He liked his new cousins just fine, but they were much younger than he was.

Leo grinned. His son finally wanted something he was good at. “We could throw a pool party. Invite all the noble families that have teenagers. We could even include the kids of the palace staff, make sure there’s a lot of people. It’ll be a real banger!”

“Really?” It was the first time Hudson had responded to one of his ideas positively.

“Oh yeah. We’ll hire a live band or a DJ, or hell, both! We’ll serve a lot of food, maybe have door prizes or something. Whatever you want.”

“But I don’t know any of those people…”

“You will. This can be your introduction to Cordonian society. A welcome party.” He leaned in with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re a prince. Everyone is going to be clamoring to get to know you. Trust me on this.”

“Right, a prince.” That still didn’t seem like a real thing. He had grown up in a middle-class suburb in California. Until recently, he had attended public school. He had been raised by a single mother. Nothing in any of that screamed privilege, much less royalty.

But here he was, spending the summer in a palace, having the kitchen cater to his likes, and being told he could throw a massive party like the ones he’d only ever seen on TV.

Yeah, a kid could definitely get used to this.

Maybe the summer wasn’t completely ruined after all.

[winmance]

When Our Children Fell in Love (AO3 Link)

Additional Tags:

Alpha Damen (Captive Prince)Omega Laurent (Captive Prince)Alpha/Beta/Omega DynamicsProtective ParentsPost-Canonthey're getting oldBut together so it's cutePOV Nikandros (Captive Prince)Nikandros is not having a good timeIn-Laws

Summary:

Laurent and Damen have eleven children and Nikandros loves each of them deeply.

But out of the eleven, there is this one child, the spitting image of Laurent, that Nikandros always had trouble trusting for he looks too much like Laurent.

Of course, it is the one Nikandros' child decides to take as a spouse.

Sorry below 👇

There’s nothing but silence inside the Kings’ room. Damen and Laurent are seated next to each other on the edge of their bed, Damen’s hand resting on his husband’s back. Nikandros is sitting in front of them, on the chair they use to write down at their desk.

To their right, their sons, standing hand in hand.

“Damianos,” Nikandros calls his son. “What is this about?”

“We’re in love and asking for your approval.”

“We’re not asking, actually,” Lauri says.

Lauri is holding his head high and proud, his blue eyes showing no emotion. He’s the fourth child of Laurent and Damen, one of the only two omegas of eleven children, and yet he has the pride of Auguste, their Alpha Heir.

Out of the eleven, he’s also the one that looks the most like Laurent: the same hair, same eyes, same attitude. Only his skin is a bit darker, but he’s still paler than the others. Nikandros had doubts Damen was the father, for a moment. He suggested it once and it was the only time he had been afraid of his best friend, for Damen’s anger had been so strong that he saw himself dead already.

Now that the boy is older, there is no doubt Damen is his father. Yes, he looks more like Laurent, but he also has many shared traits with Damen.

Nikandros’ boy, Damianos, has his head down. He’s an alpha and looks like one: his muscles are showing, he already has the beginning of a beard and he’s as tall as Nikandros himself. Yet - Yet his boy has always been so nice. So obeying. Of course, he would fall for his exact opposite. It had surprised Nikandros when his son presented as an Alpha.

“Are you forcing us, then?” Laurent asks.

He finds the situation funny, Nikandros can tell.

“Of course not Papa. But if you say no, we will be eloping tonight and mate in the same hour.”

There’s a laugh, then, coming from Damen, and Nikandros can’t do anything but stare as his best friend loses his mind.

“You have ten siblings. Your fathers are Kings. My sweet boy, you won’t even have time to think about escaping!”

Like his carbon copy, Lauri frowns the same way Laurent would have, if he didn’t think the situation was so funny. Nikandros doesn’t feel like laughing. In fact, he very much feels like crying. He only has two sons and he was hoping that they would have, like himself, a lovely marriage, with someone who resembled them. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Lauri. He is, after all, one of Damen’s children, one of his nephews. He would even go as far as saying that he doesn’t mind Laurent that much anymore. But enough for his son to marry his younger version? No. Absolutely not. He had secretly hoped Damianos would have fallen in love with Niklaus, one of the sweetest of the eleven children, but no. He had to go for Lauri. History is repeating itself and Nikandros can’t do anything but watch and suffer in silence.

“I love him,” Damianos says, then. His voice is strong this time and even Nikandros is surprised by it. “Please. I’ll honor him. He will be cherished and loved for the rest of his life. Uncles, have I not proven to you time and time again that I’m worthy?”

“You did, Damianos,” Laurent says. He’s sweet, like when he talks to his little ones. “But life isn’t as easy as it sounds. You’re both still very young.”

“We’re not children anymore, Papa.”

He means it innocently, Nikandros can tell, but just like his father, Lauri’s face is becoming warmer the more he realizes the implication behind his words. Laurent and Damen do, too, and the smiles that were on their faces slowly disappeared. Nikandros is very close to slapping his own son.

“Tell me you’re not that stupid Damianos,” he begs.

“It was only once, I swear Dad.”

“You were intimate together?” Laurent yells. “Lauri! What were you thinking?”

Lauri, whose face is now as red as a tomato, doesn’t drop his gaze. He looks just as proud as before, if not more. Damen’s eyes are fixed on Damianos.

“Please, like you and Dad waited until you were married. Don’t be a hypocrite, Papa.”

Something amazing happened then, that Nikandros would remember until the end of his life: Laurent stayed quiet. He didn’t answer back, having been defeated and his mistakes put into light.

“You are supposed to be smart, Lauri,” Damen says. “But now all I’m seeing is that you’re far too immature to be marrying anyone.”

Lauri wants to respond but then Damen is up, and they all know that once the King is standing, the discussion is over. It doesn’t matter that the two boys now have tears in their eyes; Damen is done with the conversation, and so it is all over.

“Nik, my friend, I need a drink,” then to Laurent. “My love, I’ll give you the pleasure of explaining to those boys the danger of sex outside marriage.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and doesn’t look back at the boys either. It’s not the first time Nikandros sees his friend being strict with his children. He’s raising them with more love than his father did, but he’s still firm with them. It doesn’t come as a surprise; with that many alphas, and his two only omegas' children acting like alphas themselves, he needs to set boundaries and show them who the leader is.

With their drinks in hand, Nikandros closes his eyes and tries to take it all in. He wonders if, perhaps, he had anger at a God, in this life or another, to deserve such punishment. Lauri is as beautiful as Laurent, maybe even more. He talks like him, too, destroying everyone that doesn’t agree with him.

“How many times have we dreamed of it?” Damen says, suddenly. “Our children marrying each other! Isn’t that great?”

“They’re getting married?”

“Obviously! I just wanted to scare them a little but I mean, when we were their age, we were having more sex than there are hours in a day!”

It seems like yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago.

“They’re young.”

“Yes, but they’re in love. Sure, we both married late, but I can see that they love each other. We already started getting offers for Lauri, you know.”

For some reason, this makes Nikandros’ blood boil. Lauri is still a boy, and he’s certainly not for sales.

“From who?”

“Nobles, everywhere. We only have two omegas, so of course they think we want to get rid of them. I’ll let you imagine how Laurent welcomed them.”

Yes, he can imagine.

“So it’s done, then.”

“Yes! But I’m not forgetting my other nephew, if that’s what troubles you. I was thinking that our Agape could marry your oldest, what do you think? They get along fine and I’m suspecting that their romance is already booming.”

“Agape is lovely,” Nikandros says, which is true. He’s an alpha, while his son is a beta, and he knows that they would form a lovely couple. He can see the way they look at each other, too, the little smiles they share when they think no one is looking. Yes, he could see them together. Agape is lovely, and unlike Lauri, he has never made one of his teachers cry. He has never thrown shit to a noble’s face, too.

“You don’t seem happy.”

“I do not wish for you to take it the wrong way.”

Damen frowns and crosses his arms around his chest. He’s past fifty now, yet he’s still as much in shape as he was when he was twenty. Only his gray hair and the wrinkles that are forming on his forehead are giving his real age away.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just… You have eleven children. He could have chosen any of them, but he had to choose him.”

“What’s wrong with Lauri?”

“He’s… I’m afraid he’s not the right fit for my son, that’s all. I wanted him to be… With someone different.”

“That’s my son you’re talking about,” Damen’s tone is one that Nikandros only heard a few times but knows too well: firm and strong, it’s the voice of a King warning his friend not to cross the line.

“I love all your children. This one simply looks too much like his father.”

“He does,” Damen says with a smile. “He has every quality Laurent has and more. He’s the best version of Laurent, for he was protected and loved from the moment he was conceived.”

“But is he nice? Will he loves him? I don’t want my son to have his heart broken, Damen.”

“He has a heart pure of gold. Is he a bit mischievous? Yes, and I suspect that’s exactly what your son loves about him. He’s good. My children are all good, Nik.”

“I believe you.”

Before his wife died, he had promised her that he would take care of their sons and their happiness. They had a short but loving marriage together, and he wants the exact same thing for his sons. He knows it's useless to try and change Damianos' mind. Just like his Uncles', he would be ready to defeat a whole kingdom out of love.

Damen lowers his drink, then, and forces Nikandros to look at him. His expression his serious, and so Nikandros listens.

“I swore to Laurent that I would protect them from everything and everyone. I love your son like you love mine. But tell me: will Damianos protect Lauri? Will he fight and die for him, not the way an alpha would, but the way a husband would. Not by duty, but by love.”

Damianos knows love. Just like Lauri, he's been surrounded by love since his birth. His son is precious and he raised him to be a good Alpha, yes, but also a good man.

“Yes. He will.”

Then Damen claps his back, so hard that Nikandros almost knocks his drink over.

“It is decided then.”

“Don’t you need his Majesty Laurent's approval?”

“No, Laurent had planned for both your sons to marry our children since before they were conceived. Plus, he always seemed to think that Lauri and Damianos would be a good match. Seems like he was right.”

Of course, once again, Laurent’s mastermind is behind Nikandros’ pain. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’s the one who put both boys together, somehow.

“So just like that? It’s done?”

“Well, your son deflowered my son. I personally don’t care much, but Laurent will be asking for either a wedding or a funeral.”

“A wedding, then.”

They drink some more while Nikandros tries to come to terms with the fact that his bloodline will not only have Veterian’s blood, but Laurent’s blood, and that his grandchildren will look just like Laurent. It’s fine. He can deal with it.

When they come back to the room, Laurent, Lauri, and Damianos are still there, only they seem to be at ease, too. Once they’ve broken the news, Damianos can’t stop smiling and Lauri goes to hug his Dad. He’s sweet, just like Laurent, and Nikandros knows that it’s exactly where the danger is.

“ Auguste will be mad. Lauri is his favorite one,” Laurent says, a smile on his face.

“We have Auguste’s approval. I wouldn’t have done it if he had said no.”

“So your brother's words are more important than mine?”

“Yes?”

“Have you told him that you two slept together? Or should I break the news?”

“Papa! Please don’t! Auguste would kill him!”

Before the situation can escape any further, Damen is letting go of his son with one last kiss to his head, and welcoming his husband into his arms. The two blondes keep looking at each other, but there’s no trace of anger, only amusement in their eyes.

“I’m a bit sad,” Damen says. “Our children are now getting married and that means that we can’t have more.“

“Dad! There are eleven of us. Eleven! Elina is barely two. Your fifty-one. Stop having children already!”

“Is that a challenge?” Laurent asks. “Because I love challenges.”

“I love challenges too.”

And then they’re kissing, which means that Nikandros exits the room before he has to witness more of their disgusting affection. Damianos follows quickly, holding Lauri’s hand in his. He lets go, then, and goes his own way, leaving the two of them alone.

Lauri may look like Laurent, but there’s no denying that he looks like his father, too. He has Damen’s dimple. His lips and smile. He looks like both his fathers, now that Nikandros is taking the time to look at him.

“Uncle Nik, I love him. I’ll take care of him, I promise. I know… I know I’m not the one you wished for, but I’ll prove myself to you. You’ll love me more than you love Papa.”

Lauri’s eyes may be a cold shade of blue, but he has the same warmth in them that Laurent has when looking at his children or his husband. Nikandros thinks, then, that he wishes nothing more for his son but to be loved by someone capable of loving like Laurent. He will get used to him, the same way he got used to Laurent.