#from-nursery-to-misery

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from nursery to misery

[dialoogid]

Various Artists - Interpretation Series Volume Two: E O O E (1992)

[thebearer]

in your eyes, the man that i could be |carmen berzatto x reader| part two

prompt: after carmen finds out you're staying at pete and sugar's house, he goes to try and talk to you. he's faced with his furious sister and harsh truths instead.

or part two of the devastation fic lol that is based off this ask from the other day <3

contains: angst! angst! this one is very much so more carmen focused bc let's be real... he's the problem in this one lol. still hurt with no comfort but more this one than last one?? mentions to past trauma, family trauma. sugar clears carmen in this one. slight mean carmen still, slight angry carmen still. language. dad!carmen x mom!reader. no resolution but the make up is in the next and final part! still heavy so read at your own discretion! word count- 4.8k+

Fak twisted his hands, nervously watching Carmen pace back and forth furiously. One hand running through his hair, tangled and matted from the continued motion; the other lifting and pulling the cigarette to and from his lips. Fak wasn’t sure how Carmen wasn’t sick yet. He’d never seen him smoke so much, seen anyone smoke so much. 

“Neil, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ anymore, ok? You’re startin’ to really, really fuckin’ piss me off.” Carmen’s jaw ground tight, voice starting to growl with that gravelly warning shake that had Fak flinching. “You better tell me where you put my fuckin’ car keys, alright? I-I’m not sitting here, ok? I’m not gonna sit around wi-with my fuckin’ thumb up my ass like a jagoff while my wife and kid are a-at fuckin’ Sugar and Pete’s!” 

“Carmy,” Fak tried to keep his voice calm and firm, like Sugar and Richie had coached him to, hyping him up before he entered the house. “I can’t give you your keys right now, becaus-” 

“-Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Carmen roared, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. 

Fak didn’t think he’d ever say it, but he missed the sad Carmen from before. When he’d been sent to check on Carmen and Richie, to find out where the hell they were before Sydney had a meltdown in the kitchen, only to find a nearly hyperventilating Carmen and an unsure and frantic Richie trying to calm him. Fak had known Carmen a long time, his whole life, really, and never once had he seen him so… so sad. 

That sadness was long gone now. In its wake, an anger, worse than before, than he’d ever seen or could have imagined. Fak had just tried to comfort Carmen, offer up some encouragement that you and Teddy and Anchovy were all ok, taken care of- at Pete and Sugar’s. He didn’t realize how that would flip the switch, how it would infuriate Carmen. 

“I-I’m Fak.” Fak blinked, nervously. “You know me. I’m your friend, Carm, and I-I’m just trying to help you-” 

“-You’re trying to help me? You’re trying to fuckin’ help me by keepin’ me away from my wife?” Carmen’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of the house. 

Even in his loud rage, the house seemed too quiet, too still. There was no baby TV show on, no hum of the diffusers, or Anchovy’s small purrs and chirps. Carmen missed him, missed him jumping on the counters just to piss him off. He missed you defending him, missed how Anchovy would startle and run anytime Teddy would gurgle or whine. 

God, he missed Teddy. He spent the first night in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, staring blankly ahead, wishing he had the small screaming bundle to rock to sleep. 

Carmen couldn’t bring himself to go into the bedroom. Not again. Not after he found your ring laying there. He’d scared Richie so badly with his cries that Richie had enforced the ‘Mikey Prevention Plan’, his twisted humor of a way at keeping Carmen from being alone, from hurting himself in his misery. 

“Carm, I-I can’t.” Fak stuttered, looking at the door, begging Richie or anyone, really, to walk through the door. “You know I can’t.” 

“This is fucked up, Neil. You know that? You know how fucked up this is? Keepin’ me from-from Teddy? From my kid?” Carmen took a long drag of the cigarette, smoke blowing out of his nose with his panicked breathing. His hands still shook, everything was still shaky and rattling with uneasiness inside him. 

“Carm, I- Don’t say that.” Fak shook his head, he could feel himself caving. Carmen could too. 

“You’re keepin’ me from her, Fak. You know that? You know you-you’re keepin’ me from my daughter? My baby? Don’t you-you know how fucked up that is?” Carmen shook his head, lips pursing in disgust. “You’re lettin’ Richie boss you around like he always does, an-and you know, you know deep down that this is wrong. Keepin’ me from them is wrong.” 

Fak hesitated, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Richie said-” 

“-Richie can get fucked. Ric-Richie doesn’t know shit! He doesn’t know shit, you know he doesn’t know shit, a-and you’re lettin’ him tell you what to do? Richie?” Carmen scoffed, throwing his hands out. “The fuck does Richie know, huh? H-He’s divorced, an-an-and barely sees his kid-” 

“-Hey!-” Fak’s eyes widened in shock. “Carmen, you don’t-” 

“-Is that what you want? You want me to end up alone?” Carmen’s eyes are wild, crazed, but he goes still. “Y-You want me to end up like-like Richie? Li-Li-Like that?” 

Fak swallows, both standing in the thick, tension filled silence. “Carmen, I-I can’t.” Fak shook his head slowly. “I don’t… I think you need to, I don’t know, I think you need to calm down before you go see them.” 

“Calm down, you’re tellin’ me to calm down.” Carmen snarled, bitterly scoffing at Fak. “Fuck you. Alright? Fuck you. I will never forgive you for this shit. You hear me? You-You doin’ this to me, keepin’ me from my family. I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you.” 

Fak flinched, Carmen’s words cutting brutally through him with a bitter sting. Carmen stormed off, the front door slamming with a force that sent vibrations through the house. Fak was surprised it didn’t split the wood in two. Walking towards the front window, he saw Carmen storming off, furiously lighting another cigarette, running a hand through his hair, again. Fak assumed he was out of Spirits, that he’d smoked through another pack, walking to the corner store to get more. After thirty minutes, he called Richie, frantic that he’d let Carmen loose. 

“What part of Mikey Prevention Plan don’t you fuckin’ understand?” Richie sneered over the phone, trying to keep his voice low so the new hires didn’t hear. As far as they were concerned, Carmen was on a vacation, only the OGs knew the truth. 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Fak’s voice lilted high, a shrill of nerves that had Richie’s eyes pinching in annoyance. “I thought he was going to the corner store to get more cigarettes, an-and then he didn’t come back for a while-” 

“-What’s a while?” Richie muttered, catching Tina’s eye through the glass. She set her rag down quickly, walking towards him. 

“I dunno… Fifteen, thirty minutes?” Fak mumbled. “Maybe closer to an hour now. B-But then I went to look for him, and he wasn’t there, so I asked the guy working and he said he hadn’t seen him, and-and now I’m driving around trying to find him. I-I’m shouting his name out the window and everything!” 

“He’s not a dog, Neil, he won’t-” Richie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know where he’s at.” 

“You do?” Fak perked up. 

“Yeah, I mean, no, but I-I’m pretty sure I know where he’s at since you fuckin’ told him where they were stayin’.” Richie rolled his eyes bitterly. “Just- Come over here and get me, alright? Let me call Pete- God, you and this fuckin’ kid, got me callin’ Pete. You’re killin’ me Neil Jeff.” 

Richie hung up the phone with a huff, looking up at Tina. “What’s goin’ on? Jeff alright? What’s he doin’?” She pressed. 

“Yeah, Fak-Fak fuckin’ lost him.” Richie rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “But, I think I know where he’s at. Have a pretty good idea, anyways.” 

Tina eyed Richie carefully. “Richie, you know I love that kid, you know I do. But if he’s fuckin’ with Mama,” Tina shook her head, lips pursing in fury. It was no secret how taken she was to you, even before the affectionate nickname that came with the pregnancy. 

“He’s not,” Richie shook his head. “He’s stupid, hot headed, a fuckin’ baby- all that. But… C’mon, T, you and I both know he loves her. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Do somethin’ to himself before that.” 

Tina paused but nodded, face softening. “So, you know where he’s at then? You don’t… You don’t think he’s gonna…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, looking at the picture of Mikey with Richie, Tina, Ebra, and Marcus only a few months before he passed. Carmen had placed it at the front, a reminder of the legacy that was there before him, of The Beef and his brother. 

“No, I hope not.” Richie muttered, looking at his phone’s screen with dread, Pete’s contact on the screen gleaming back at him nearly mockingly. “I think I know where he is.” He sighed, pressing the button. 

Pete could feel his phone buzzing in his pants, ignoring it as he held the front door in a white knuckled grip. He hadn’t expected to see Carmen there, on his Ring camera, knocking on the door softly, softer than he expected given his manic looking state. 

“H-Hey, Carm,” Pete closed the door as casually as he could, only leaving a sliver open. “What, uh, what’s up, man?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Carmen could barely meet his gaze, suddenly overly aware of how disheveled he must have looked. 

“Uh, what-what brings you by?” Pete stuttered, heart picking up when he heard the soft thump behind him, Anchovy lurking behind his legs curiously. He gripped the door, shuffling his legs together, trying to close it on his frame so Anchovy wouldn’t slip by. 

“C’mon,” Carmen sighed, a tired look in his eye, too exhausted to even be pleading. “You know why I’m here, alright. I-I know they’re here.” 

“W-Who is? Sugar? Yeah, she-she’s off today.” Pete stiffened at the claim, swallowing nervously, trying to play it cool. Anchovy meowed loudly behind him, cringing when he was  given away by the cat. 

“Pete, don’t-” Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in slowly, trying to calm the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear Anchovy, hear the sounds of the house- the home. Soft child shows, the hum of the dryer, all the things that made the house feel alive. Carmen would give anything to have his home sound like that again, the silence was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Where is she?” Carmen looks up, his gaze much harder than before, a frantic look beginning to take over his sadness. 

“I, uh, I-I don’t-” Pete stutters, fingers tapping on the wood of the door anxiously. 

“-Pete, I really don’t want you to fuck with me right now, alright?” Carmen takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his emotions that were already beginning to climb in his throat again. “I need to- I-I need to see her, Pete.” Carmen couldn’t bring himself to say your name, sure even the first syllable would have him in tears, breaking down on the front porch. 

Another meow, louder than before, came before Pete could answer. The soft scratching of Anchovy’s paws on the door, a demanding meow that Carmen knew all too well. He’d learned to drown it out, or try to. It became nearly a soundtrack to your sex life when you’d first gotten the cat, locking him out of the room so you two could fuck, only for him to yowl and scratch and demand to be let in. Carmen could remember how you’d giggle, pouting at him exaggeratedly to let him in. His heart fell with an ache that was warm yet still made him feel sick. 

Pete looked down at the cat, then back at Carmen, a hesitant grimace on his face. “Carm… You-You know I would,” He started. Carmen’s heart soared with hope, eyes wide, a near adrenaline rush of excitement shooting through his system. “But…You know I can’t.” 

Carmen’s heart crashed, shattered with the hope he’d finally begun to find, to feel again. “What the fuc- Pete, that’s… Pete, c’mon. C’mon. Yo-You gotta let me in. Let me in.” Anger surged through Carmen’s chest. He closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow it down. All he’d been is angry. For weeks now, it had been a never ending cycle of anger and sickness and distraught, all amplified to new heights the second you left. 

Carmen could feel himself spiraling, ears starting to ring again, rushing and roaring flashbacks flooding into his mind. Your face when you left, Teddy’s cries, the critic’s pursed lips, Sydney’s disappointed face when he forgot something again, Tina’s eyes cutting. Carmen turned, shaking his hand lightly, trying to do a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube, years ago when he’d moved to New York. 

His breaths were deep, shaky, but deep enough that it cleared his head, dulled the ringing. His mind wandered back, Richie’s voice ringing in his head. “You wanna get her back? Quit actin’ like a goddam baby. Quit actin’ like this isn’t your own fuckin’ fault. Like you didn’t do this shit to yourself, Cousin. Take some fuckin’ accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin’ shit together, alright? And maybe-maybe you’ll get your family back.” Richie’s voice rang clear through his mind from a few nights ago, when Carmen was especially mean and awful. 

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Pete hesitated, leaning towards Carmen, his grip on the door loosening. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he turned back towards Pete, eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. “Pete, please? Please?” Carmen begged, voice soft, cracking at the end. “Please, jus-just let me see her? L-Let me talk to her? Just- Let me tell her tha-that I’m sorry. Please… I need to tell her I-I’m sorry. Don’t-” 

“-Carmen?” Sugar gaped, her voice coming from behind Pete. She pulled the door open, shocked gaze dropping into furious, jaw setting in a near snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed. 

“Why do you think I’m here, Natalie? Huh?” Carmen snapped in anger, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Natalie snapped back, pulling the door open and stepping out on the porch. She stood in front of her younger brother, arms crossed in a standoff. 

“Pete, go inside.” Sugar sneered, her gaze not moving from Carmen’s. She felt like they were children again, having a staring contest to see who got the last piece of gum from Donna’s purse, only this time, it was for worse. 

“Nat, I-” 

“-I got it.” Natalie said firmly. Pete didn’t argue with her, simply nodding, shutting the door softly behind them. Her eyes held Carmen’s gaze, both of them intense, furious at the other for other reasons. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself-” 

“-I am-” 

“-Mortified.” Sugar sneered, giving him a disgusted shake of her head. Carmen shifted, biting his own tongue to keep it from lashing out at her. “Do you know what I came home to the other night? You want me to tell you?-” 

“-No, I know-” 

“-No, I’m going to tell you.” Natalie snapped. “I came home after a very long shift because our head chef decided to, oh, I don’t know- disappear and go on a psychotic rampage apparently.” Natalie scoffed sarcastically. 

“And I walk through the door, ready for bed. Maybe a glass of wine, maybe a bath, maybe to finally catch up on my shows with my husband; and you know what I found instead?” Sugar took a step towards Carmen, intimidating him with her harsh glare. “I find my husband taking care of your baby because your wife is sobbing-” 

“-Don’t-” 

“-No, no. I mean, sobbing. A total broken mess on my kitchen table, because she said you,” Sugar jabbed a finger at Carmen. “Decided to come home and scream at her. Not only scream, but say some of the most volatile, disgusting things I’ve ever fucking heard in my life to your wife, the mother of your very much so still a newborn baby.” 

Carmen felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, swallowing back spit that pooled in his mouth with a cry that threatened to fall from his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to look at her gaze anymore. It felt too judgemental, left him feeling too vulnerable and sick of himself under it. 

“So let me ask first; What the fuck is the matter with you?” Natalie sneered. 

“I don’t know.” Carmen’s voice was tight, jaw tighter, fighting a tremble that was threatening to break. “I-I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it-” A single tear fell, slipping out of the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheek- the final crack in his demeanor. 

Carmen tried to fight it, deep breaths that burned his lungs and nose to control the tears, keep him from breaking here on his sister’s porch, but they wouldn’t stop. Carmen wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, after crying for days on end, how he hadn’t shriveled up his tear ducts. Yet here he was, broken sobs slipping out again. 

Sugar didn’t move. Arms still crossed over her chest, lips still fixed in a hard line, watching Carmen with intensity as he broke down, tears flowing in front of her. She didn’t comfort him, not that he expected her to. She didn’t try to give him words of encouragement, advice on how to right the wrongs like the others did. Instead, she kept a furious gaze on him, unmoved by the tears. 

“Please,” Carmen sniffed hard, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Please, Sugar, please. Ju-Just let me see Teddy. Let me se-ee her. Don’t-Don’t do this to me. Don’t ke-ep my kid away from me-” 

“-Me?” Sugar scoffed, pushing her hand into her chest. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t you even start that shit, Carm. I’m not keeping your kid away from you, let’s make that clear.” 

Carmen’s breath hitched when she stepped towards him, toe to toe with him, teeth bared in a grit of anger. “I didn’t take your kid away. You know who did? Hm? You.” Natalie snapped, Carmen flinched at the cruelty of her words. “You did this, Carmen. You did every last bit of this. This is on you. No one else but you.” 

Carmen held in a cry that threatened to break out, face crumbling with tears. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to soothe the burn and hide his distraught. “And you know something else? I know you don’t remember dad very well, but I do, ok? And lately, you’ve been acting just like him.” Sugar’s tone clipped, leaving a burning sting in Carmen’s chest at her words. 

“Yelling just because shit didn’t go your way? Do you know part of the reason mom’s so fucked up? Why everyone takes her side all the time and babies her? Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee? It’s because dad used to berate her, scream at her so badly- say some of the worst shit in the world because he was stressed out, that those guys would feel bad for her.” Sugar ranted. “And I promise you- promise you if I told Uncle Jimmy right now what you said, how I found your wife, he’d agree with me. Maybe even worse.” 

Carmen shifted, his heart squeezing in fear now. Jimmy loved you, always had. He held a special soft spot in his heart for you. Worse was probably right, and truthfully, Carmen would accept it- he deserved it. It wouldn’t be as bad as how he felt right now. 

Natalie held Carmen’s gaze, letting her words sink in. She lifted his hand when he started to talk. “I don’t-I really don’t want to hear it, ok?” Natalie shook her head. “And before you start trying to come up with some excuse-” 

“-I-I’m not-” 

“- I want you to know something. To hear it and really listen to it.” Natalie paused, waiting until his eyes met hers to continue. “I know you’ve been through a lot- We’ve been through a lot. But that doesn’t mean you get to just treat people like shit. That you can act like this and it’s ok.” 

“I know that.” Carmen’s jaw was tight, strangled words croaking out. 

“Then act like it.” Natalie snapped. “It’s not easy, none of this is easy, Carm. I mean… Do you know that every day- every single day, I wake up and something happens that’s shitty or rough, and I think about how easy it would be just to grab a bottle of wine or two. Drink myself unconscious like mom does. Just how easy that would be, how nice it would be just to drown myself out instead of face the issues.” 

“There’s days when MJ or Maggie or-or Pete just drive me fuckin’ nuts, and I want to pull my hair out, or scream, or Pete will do something that just pushes me right over the edge and I just want to rage.” Natalie continued, arms waving dramatically. “I want to throw in the towel, take the easy way out, rage, drink myself silly, scream at all of them until I feel better, but you know what? You know what I don’t do? I don’t do that.” 

Natalie crossed her arms, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t do that to them because I know how that feels.” Her voice cracked, just barely, enough to show the emotion that was hiding underneath. “I know how that felt. I know how that made me feel.” 

Carmen could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, too emotional to be embarrassed. Donna’s many red faced, slurred screaming tyrades came back to his mind. How he’d hide, try and stay quiet and invisible to avoid them. Even as he got older. 

“I know how that fucked me up. How it fucked them up. How it fucked you up, an-and Mikey up. I mean- how it…it fucked our whole life up!” Sugar laughed humorlessly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “I just… When I think about that, and about how it just ruined all of us. That’s the last thing, the very last thing, I’d ever want to do to my kids, to Pete, t-to anyone, really.” 

Carmen nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. His throat burned, scratchy and sore from screaming and crying. His chest was tight, constricting his lungs, stealing his breath. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, maybe something worse, yet, he felt eerily calm in the moment. Still even under the shame and hurt her words brought. He sat on the porch, sure his knees would give out soon, head spinning and dizzy with this damning realization. 

 “You need to make up your mind. Make a decision, right here, right now.” Sugar continued behind him. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was stoic to hide the hurt, hide the emotions. A classic Berzatto deflection trait. “You need to decide what you’re going to do to be better for your family. If you’re going to continue to be a selfish, piece of shit, or if you’re going to change; be better.” 

Carmen’s shoulders shuddered with his next breath, deep but not intentional; like he didn’t even know he did it. Too dazed and deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. “I can tell you,” Sugar stepped towards the door. “It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. It is so hard some days. You have to fight for it every day, fight to break shit that was drilled into you, fight to recognize that some things you do, you don’t even mean to. It takes a lot of work, but… I’d rather fight every single day to be better, to be kinder and softer and more understanding for my family, than to not have them at all.” 

Carmen couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you were so naturally nurturing and sweet. You’d always been like that. You were loving and gentle freely. You’d always been so patient with him. It almost made him feel insecure, inferior, when he thought of it before, but now, he just wanted to return the favor. 

“You decide what you want to do, and then maybe- maybe you’ll get to see them again.” Sugar turned the door knob, pushing it open. “But today? Not a chance. Go get yourself together before you try and do this again.” Carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, harder than he thought it would. Still, he didn’t move from his spot on the porch, head in his hands, deep in thought about his future, his past, everything. 

“There he is!” Fak’s voice was muffled through the car window, slowly pulling to a stop in Sugar and Pete’s driveway. 

Carmen looked up slowly, taking a slow, grounding exhale in, just as Richie and Fak climbed out of the car. “Cousin, thank fuckin’- You better be glad he’s here.” Richie glared at Fak. 

“I am!” Fak chirped defensively. 

Carmen stood slowly, turning one last time to look at the front door. He couldn’t see through the small privacy glass on the door, but he swore he could hear you- hear your voice. Soft and hushed, a little cautious mixing with Sugar’s reassuring one. It took everything in him not to turn and bust the door down, run inside and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He knew that time would come. 

Instead, he walked to the car, sliding in the backseat, ignoring the confused looks Richie and Fak gave each other. “So, uh, did you-” 

“-Don’t ask that.” Richie cut off Fak with a bark of annoyance. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing! I just- I thought we all wanted to know-” 

“-Hey, Cousin,” Carmen muttered, staring blankly at the house. Richie hummed, turning to Carmen carefully. “What’s, uh… You-You said you had someone for me to talk to?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded slowly. “The therapist?” 

Carmen paused, swallowing slowly. “You…You think she’d see me now?” 

“Right now?” Richie lifted a brow. Carmen nodded slowly, still looking past him, eyes glued on the house. He swore he could see a figure move- your figure, peeking through the blinds before ducking back into the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. I can… I can call her. See what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” Carmen twisted his wedding band gently, the car jolting gently as Fak started to back out. 

Fak turned around, looking from the back window to Carmen with a hesitant grimace. “You ok?” He asked, his voice dropped to a low hush with Richie on the phone beside him. 

“No,” Carmen admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, I-I’m not, but… I wanna be.” Carmen looked at Fak, eyes glassy with emotion. “I gotta get my shit together. Gotta do better f-for my family.” 

Fak nodded slowly, pulling out onto the road, slowly shifting the gears back into place. The car began to roll, Carmen watching Sugar and Pete’s house disappear in the rearview. His heart tore, ripped right down the middle and split at the seams knowing he was leaving you, Teddy- his family behind. It took everything, every ounce of strength not to turn around, not to run back. It hurt, but he realized, this is what Sugar was talking about. 

So, Carmen went to the other side of town, to the small building where Richie’s therapist was. His counselor he’d started seeing a while back, when he was on his purpose journey. 

It was weird, weirder than Al-Anon. Carmen felt entirely too vulnerable sitting in that chair, having her stare at him and only him, nodding as he told his ‘story’- it felt weird to call it that. He didn’t want it to be his story, his defining qualities. No, Carmen wanted a new story, a better one with you and Teddy and his family. He’d told Dr. Mullins that. 

“I think that’s a great start, Carmen.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “So, tell me how you’d do that.” 

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands. “I, uh, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “Kinda thought that’s what you were for.” 

“You’re right. I’m here to help you reach that goal, maintain it.” She nodded. “But in order to do that, I need to know a little more.” 

“Like what?” Carmen muttered. “I don’t really remember my dad and all the bad shi-stuff he’d do.” 

“You said you didn’t want that to define you, so let’s not talk about that.” She shook her head softly. “Let’s focus on what you want. What kind of life you’d want to live with your family.” 

Carmen’s knee bounced, taking a shaky breath. “I… I don’t want to lose control.” He admitted. “I don’t want t-to scream, and say shit I don’t mean, and-and to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to do that again.” 

“Good.” Dr. Mullins nodded slowly. “Let’s start there.” 

[ellecdc]

can you pleasee do dad!Sirius x AFAB reader with a young child please I'm craving it. Maybe the kid got a cold and everyone's worried idk but I would love to see how Sirius would spoil her or take care of her

poor dramatic sirius hahaha. thanks for your request!

dad!Sirius Black x mum!reader whose child is sick [534 words]

CW: kid fic, fluff, the reader is actually gender neutral (no gender specified) but is the other parent of the child and I wrote it with a fem!reader in mind

“That snot-nosed little mouth breather isn’t allowed over anymore.” Sirius muttered into the crown of Aurora's head from his place on the couch; your daughter laid stretched across his torso with her cheek smooshed against his chest as she breathed audibly through her mouth on account of her stuffed up nose. She was a pitiful sight, though she seemed wholly safe and content in her father’s arms.  

Now, you were quite sure you heard what Sirius had said, but you had to ask again just to be certain; or just in case he wanted to amend his statement. 

“What?” 

“I said,” Sirius started, looking at you pointedly over the child’s head to ensure you were listening; you had to admit, Sirius was very good at making his points with his entire chest, “that snot-nosed little mouth breather isn’t allowed over anymore.”

“Sirius,” you chided, though you were sure your smile was audible in your voice, “are you talking about your godson?” 

“Uhm, is my godson a snot-nosed little mouth breather?” He asked in faux derision, face crumpling in misery when Aurora let out a rattling cough in her sleep. “My poor sweet girl; look what he’s done to her!” 

“I hardly think he did this on purpose, Sirius.” You scolded around a smile. “We have no idea if he even had the sniffles before he came over.”

“Oh, I’m sure he definitely did have the sniffles before he came over.” Sirius countered bitterly; hand rubbing soothingly up and down Aurora’s back as she drooled on his chest to which he was either ignorant or wholly unbothered. “Then James went and sent him over anyway. Probably payback.”

“Payback?”

“I just never thought he’d stoop so low as to biological warfare,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything at all, “and my child?! No, it’s not right at all. Who do we call about this, hm? The Scotland Yard? Or do we take this right to the UN for war crimes?”

“Sirius-”

“She’s too sweet to be so poorly.” He murmured quietly then, bottom lip jutting out comically as he looked at you beseechingly. 

“Baby.” You sighed, finally standing up from the chair to kneel beside Sirius and Aurora’s forms on the sofa. Of course, your arrival came at the price of two kisses for Sirius, both of which you paid eagerly. “Kids get sick, my love. And when she ends up in school, she’ll be coming home sick every other week.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius pouted. 

“I know.” You agreed quickly. “But being exposed to some illnesses also helps build up their immune systems. Maybe now she’ll stand a better chance against all the other snot-nosed little mouth breathers she’ll meet at nursery school.” 

Sirius let out a long suffering sigh, though his eyes remained glued to your face and his hands continued their broad strokes along Aurora’s pyjama clad back. “So I shouldn’t call the UN?”

“No.”

“Not yet.” Sirius compromised, looking into the room unseeingly. “But I will have to get James back for this. Maybe we’ll send Harry home jacked up on sugar and treats? Oh! We’ll get him a puppy. No! Four puppies!” 

You hid your smile (and the roll of your eyes) behind pressing a kiss to your daughter’s overly hot forehead.

[bagofshinyrocks]

The Baby is Sick

Prompt: The baby (and the two of you) somehow got a cold. Simon wants to make sure you get enough rest and decide to take care of the baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

You weren’t sure who brought a cold into your house. If it was someone besides you or Simon, you cursed them and wished them every single misery. If it was either you or your husband, you had no strong feelings. As you two were already in purgatory.

Because the baby was sick. And when baby was sick, he decided to make everyone else equally (or more so) miserable.

You and Simon were always covered in snot and saliva, as your son had not yet learn to not sneeze or cough directly in someone’s face. The baby wasn’t eating as much, which scared the shit out of you. No one was sleeping well.

“I know, little man, I know,” Simon soothed, as your son whined and flailed in his arms. “I know, it’s not fun. But it’s gonna help.” 

He was wrestling a nose aspirator into the second nostril. You didn’t blame your kid, having a tube that sucks all the snot out of your nose real fast didn’t sound real comfortable. But you know what was worse? Cleaning the snot out of the tube.

“See? You can breathe better.”

Simon bounced the boy a little, and he soon stopped crying, though still a bit grumpy with his dad. He started breathing through his nose and accepted his bottle again. You almost cried in relief.

“He’s okay, lovie,” murmured your husband, siddling up next to you and wrapping his arms around the two of you.

Your son looked up at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Simon’s brown eyes fluttered behind the boy’s lashes, and his hold on his bottle got looser. You helped him angle his bottle into his mouth and Simon rubbed his stomach.

He got through three quarters of the bottle before pushing it aside, and you considered that a victory.

“Time for bed, little bug?” you cooed, gently raising him up and walking to his nursery. Little burps and sleepy noises as you went and 

While you changed the baby and wiped his face of snot, milk, and drool, Simon refilled the humidifier and covered the windows to hide the fact the sun was still up. Any time your son seemed a little sleepy, you two would put him down for bed and then try to get as much sleep for yourselves.

With the care of disabling an explosive, Simon lowered the boy into his crib and tucked him in. You watched silently from the hallway and he tiptoed back to you and closed the door.

“Time for bed,” he whispered to you.

“It’s only 7 PM.”

“I know.” He beamed. “Aren’t I good husband? We get to go to bed early.”

Fifteen minutes later, you two were tucked into your own bed. Heads elevated with pillows, cups of water nearby, and a humidifier running quietly. The chest rub and a generous amount of petroleum gel on your lips and noses made the two of you shiny.

“Nighty night, baby,” you murmured.

“G’night, honey.”

Simon jerked awake at the first squawk. You hadn’t even moved by the time he was stumbling into the nursery and leaning over the crib.

“Wha’s wrong, little man,” he asked in a gravelly, sleepy voice.

The boy’s face was red, and tears and snot dripped anew. Little hands reached for Dad, and Dad picked him up.

“You’re alright.” Pats on the boy’s back and gentle bounces. “Dad’s here. Dad’s gotcha.” Small fingers burrowed into the collar of his hoodie and a small splotch of drool and snot darkened his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Simon leaned the boy back and asked him what was up.

He held up his little fist and opened and closed it. Hungry.

Simon kissed the boy on the forehead and walked to the kitchen. “Just like Uncle Johnny. Always ready for another bottle.”

Simon expertly made half a bottle with one hand, while the little man sniffled and watched. A tissue to his nose helped a bit, and Simon decided against another round with the nose aspirator till the morning. Well, sunlight morning. All of you had slept from 7 PM to 1 AM.

More kisses and your boy started his bottle while Simon made himself a snack. With a sandwich and a boy in each hand, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. 

While the baby was transfixed by dancing fruit and sucking down his bottle, Simon could eat the whole sandwich. And “rest his eyes” for a few minutes.

A particularly dangerous sounding burp woke him again and he immediately grabbed a towel and started burping him, turning his back to the screen.

“Christ, that was a wet one. Get any on ya?”

No response as the boy stared at the blueberries and pineapples.

“Yeah, I’d keep that to myself, too.”

After almost five minutes, the boy’s head sat heavily on his shoulder and his brown eyes could barely stay open. Another diaper change, more rocking, and then placing him in the crib like an active bomb.

Success.

Simon changed his hoodie without bothering to look at the damage (he could smell it) and crawled back into bed with you.

The bags under your eyes had lightened in your sleep, and your nose looked less raw. He kissed the tip of it gently and fell back asleep with ease.

Simon woke up again around 10 AM, to small hands grabbing at his nose. He opened bleary eyes to the smile of an elated infant.

“Dadadadada.”

“Mm, tha’s me.”

The mattress dipped a little as you sat down.

“Morning, handsome.”

The little man crawled on top of his dad’s chest and sat down, playing with his nose and the strings of his hoodie.

“Morning, sexy,” chuckled Simon, guiding your face to his. A sweet kiss, joined by the baby, who shoved his face against yours. He didn’t like being left out.

“Guess who drank a full bottle this morning?”

“Didja really?” cooed Simon, poking the boy’s tummy. “He had half a bottle at around 1.”

“He woke up at 1?”

Simon squeezed the little socked feet. “Yeah, he was hungry. And needed a change. He went back down quick after that.”

You kissed your husband’s forehead. “Thank you for waking up, baby.”

“Mm. You needed some more sleep.” A nip at your lip until you leaned back in for another longer kiss. “Can’t have my sexy thing staying sick.”

“I’ll get him tonight then.” He scrunched up his face and started to protest. “Ah. I can’t have my sexy thing sick either.” You squeezed the muscles of his upper arms and waggled your eyebrows.

The baby squawked and broke the sultry eye contact between you and your husband. Then he giggled as he and his father’s chest went up and down with a laugh.

“Oh trust me, little man, you’ll be an only child for a while.” Simon poked the boy’s tummy again. “Don’chu worry. Sneezing straight into my yawning mouth has made sure of that.”

Posted: 2024 January 17

Thank you for reading! Enjoyed this? Check out my other works!

[thethronezone]

Primarchs and baby's first steps

Mortarion didn't think he was a good father. He didn't even think he was an 'alright' father. But there had to be something he did right, considering the fact he was currently witnessing his child taking their first steps. There was a look of intense focus on their face, one Mortarion hadn't thought a toddler capable of. He briefly wondered if he made the same expression himself sometimes. Mortarion did not dare make a sound or any sudden movements, scared that it would somehow ruin the movement. But as his child toddles closer, he found himself murmuring encouragements. "That's it, you're doing it... One step at a time, just like that..." Just as they are about to reach him, they stumble, but Mortarion catches them before the hit the floor and swoops them up in his arms, bringing them close. "You did it!" He can't help the smile that splits his face and the audible love in his voice and for once, he doesn't mind. Right now, Mortarion needs his child to know how proud he is of them.

Fulgrim walked with his child's hands in his own, helping them keep the balance as they got a hang on walking. And really, they were doing fantastic! "That's it, my dear!" he praised. "You're doing amazing!" The toddler smiled absentmindedly at the praise but there was a look of focus on their face that had their brow furrow and their cheeks puff up. Fulgrim found the expression absolutely adorable and had his hands not been occupied with holding theirs, he would have pinched their cheeks. His little one really was the most perfect child in the galaxy, there was so doubt in his mind. This conviction only grew when he carefully let go of their hands and watched them walk a couple of steps on their own. They turned around and squealed with glee when they saw him, clapping their hands and toddling back towards him. "Absolutely brilliant!"

Whenever Angron visited his child, he only ever sat on the far end of the nursery, stewing in his own misery. Today, the kid had been placed on the floor, surrounded by a few toys to entertain them. Usually, that was enough. But not today. Today, they wanted something different. First, they made a noise. "Bah!" Angron briefly looked up from where he was polishing his mace before looking back down again. "Ba-bah!" they exclaimed once more. This time, Angron merely grunted in response. Well that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Using their arms to push themself up from the floor, they stood up. Stared at their distracted father. Frowned. And took a step. Then another. And another. It was only by the time they were halfway across the room that Angron looked up and saw them. Walking. "You-!" he exclaimed before slowly placing his mace on the table and stared with wide eyes as his child made their way towards him. It was only when they'd successfully made their way over and clung to his leg that his mouth twitched before breaking out into a full, slightly savage, smile. For the third time ever, Angron picked up his child and held them high above his head. "A fighter!" he exclaimed with glee and for a moment, he managed to forget about the pain he lived in.

Magnus should have expected this. Their first words had been in the context of wanting a specific book. It made sense that their first steps would happen in a similar circumstance. Now, Magnus enjoyed reading to his child. He liked the way their eyes followed his finger as he used it to underline the word he was sounding out, the way they would light up when they recognized a story they particularly enjoyed. And they did have their favorites. This became undeniable when, one day, Magnus asked them which book they would like to read now. He had expected them to point, expected them to maybe say the title of one of the books. What he hadn't expected was for them to slide out of his lap and, faster than he could comprehend, toddle their way over to the bookshelf and pick out a book he had read for them many times before. "This one!" they had exclaimed eagerly, looking back at him with expectation in their eyes. Magnus had to cover his mouth with one of his hands to stifle the laugh that he felt bubbling up. Instead, he nodded, picked up the book and his child in one swoop and began telling the familiar story, his chest warm with pride the entire time.

Perturabo was a busy man. There were war campaigns to plan, siege engines to design, troops to train and now, on top of that, a child to raise. He was on a strict schedule. So, when he decided it was time for his child to learn how to walk, there was no changing his mind. First, he would help them. A steady hand on their back to keep their balance and another on their shoulder, to steer them forward. At first them would trip and stumble but Perturabo always made sure they quickly got up again, even if they cried and whined. Once he was certain that they could keep their balance on their own, he stepped back. "Get over here." His child looked uncertain, so he snapped his fingers, getting back their attention. "Now." The first couple of tries were pathetic. Stumbling, fumbling. Too top heavy, too wobbly. "Again" Perturabo would say when they fell. "Again", when they faltered. Some might have called it cruel, that they were just a child, an infant. An Perturabo might have agreed with them, had this been a normal child. But this was HIS child and he knew that the world would not be kind to them, that if they wanted to have a chance at success, at LIFE, then they had to be tough. Preparing them for this was the kindest thing he could do for them. And when his child finally managed to walk without falling, Perturabo knew he had made the right choice.

After the baby's first word, Alpharius and Omegon had started speculating when they would start walking. It was only a matter of time, said Omegon. Any day now, said Alpharius. What they hadn't expected was to one day enter the nursery, only to find the crib empty. Well, almost empty. Standing in the doorway, they witnessed their child climb out of the crib, stand on the floor and take a couple of steps as they turned around. They appeared shocked when they saw Alpharius and Omegon standing there, watching them. For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, carefully, the toddler sat down on the floor and, with the most innocent look they could muster, asked "Up?" with grabby hands. Alpharius and Omegon came to the startling realization that, not only might their baby have been able to walk for a while now, but also that they were already a manipulative little thing. Oh, they were both so proud of their little one.

After the baby had been born, it was seldom that one saw Lorgar without them in his arms. He loved cradling them, rocking them, holding them close wherever he went. It was frankly a miracle that the child learned how to walk at all, with how rarely Lorgar put them down. But walk they did. Lorgar had just looked away for a second, a short moment, only to turn back around and see his dear child toddling towards him. Whatever he held in his arms, whatever he had been doing the moment before, he dropped at the same time that he dropped to his knees, arms wide and his eyes filled to the brim with tears as he beckoned his child closer. A few steps and they were in his arms and Lorgar held them close, burying his face against the top of their head. "Oh my little miracle, my wonder! Every day you surprise me, every day you remind me just how beautiful life is!" If his child fully understood him or not, he did not know, but he knew that they could hear just how proud he was of them and just how much he loved them.

Horus holds their hands in his as he teaches them how to walk, murmuring words of encouragement. "One foot before the other, yeah, you've got it". He keeps his voice in check, talking with a low, soothing tone so he won't distract them from the task. And when he feels like they've got this, when he feels them growing more confident, he gradually starts letting go of their hands, so slowly that they don't notice it's happening until he's completely let go. They stop, turn their head to look at him. Horus smiles back. "It's ok, you can do it." And his child already knows they can trust him so they clench their little fists and with a face of determination and focus, walks. It's wobbly, it's slow, but they're doing it all on their own. They reach the wall and once again, they turn around to look at him but this time, they are smiling widely. "Dah!" they exclaim and Horus rushes forward, circles his arms around them and spin them around. "So good! My amazing child!" A thousand battlefields, ten thousands battles, nothing can compare to the pride he feels for them in this moment.

Konrad sat in an armchair, head propped up against a closed fist, staring at his child as they played with their toys. He felt his lips slowly curl into a smile when the child raised one of the toys and made it swoop down, almost as if it were flying. His smile grew when his baby suddenly looked up and locked eyes with him. To most people, Konrad's smile was a thing of terror, something that caused nightmares, but his little one merely smiled back. His smile froze and slowly morphed into an expression of disbelief however, when suddenly, his child pushed themself up to stand on their own two feet. They had done this before, it wasn't new, but something was different. There was this focus and determination in their eyes that made him pause and lean forward in his seat. Konrad's child stared at him, smiled once more, and then took a first, slightly wobbly step. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly but surely, step after step, the child made their way over to him. Before they made it, Konrad got up from his seat and kneeled on the floor, catching them in his arms when they finally got there. His child, squealing with glee, and him, holding them tight. They will stay like that for a while, until Konrad's emotions get back in check and he knows he can look at them without feeling the need to shed tears.

Laying on his stomarch, on the nursery floor, Sanguinius smiled lovingly at his child. They were investigating one of his wings, their own flapping slightly against their back. When they reached to grab ahold of one of his primary feathers, he raised that wing to avoid their tiny, but deceptively strong, hands. But his little sweetheart was faster and more determined than he had given them credit for. They grabbed ahold of his wing and when it rose, so did they, until they were standing on their own two feet. Sanguinius paused, worried he might make them fall over if he moved his wing any higher. But eventually, his child released their hold on his feathers on their own. He sighed in relief. Then almost jumped to his feet when the toddler took a step towards him. With bated breath, he watched them take their first steps until finally, they reached him, patting his head energetically. With a laugh, Sanguinius grabbed them in his arms and turned over on his back, lifting them above himself. They squealed and cooed, wings flapping like they were about to take flight. "Look at you! So amazing! My little heart!"

Corvus stared at his child. The child stared back. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch but fought to keep his expression schooled. "And how" he began, "did you get up there?" From where they sat atop the table, covered in ink and surrounded by empty ink bottles and smudged parchments, his child batted their eyelashes innocently, as if asking 'who, me?'. When they realized that their father saw right through their act, the toddler huffed. Then, pushing themself up, they stood up on the table. This already had Corvus eyes wide. When they then took a couple of wobbling steps towards him, he felt his mouth drop open. Unimpressed by his reaction, his toddler patted their dirty hands against him, staining him with ink. Not that Corvus found himself minding that all too much. No, he was too busy wondering just when his kid had learned how to walk. How many places had they gotten into when he wasn't looking? Did he have to create new safety protocols for mischieveous toddlers now?

Everyone knew that Ferrus was quite proud of his child. He didn't say it out loud of course, but it was evident in how he spoke about them, the way his mouth would twist into an almost smile. For as young and small as they were, his child was not weak. No, they were durable, headstrong. When Ferrus gave them a puzzle or activity to do, they tried and tried until they got it right. Like now. He had constructed a small maze for them. Easy for an adult but for an infant? It provided a challenge. A challenge that his child quickly got fed up with, as they faced dead end after dead end. But instead of just giving up, of crying and whining until he picked them up, they instead did something quite unexpected. First they stood up. Which was smart. The walls oft he maze where quite low and they could easily peer over them once standing. Except they did not return to crawling. Instead, using the walls of the maze for support, they navigated the maze until they got out. Full of pride, Ferrus couldn't help himself. He scooped his child up and pressed his forehead against theirs. "Intelligent and strong!" he praised, voice uncharacteristically tender.

After the whole 'first word' debacle, Rogal had grown to expect the unexpected when it came to his child. So when they one day wanted him to put them down on the floor, Rogal didn't question it. When they pushed themself up on their two feet, he didn't question that either, though he did arch an eyebrow. And when they then proceeded to walk confidently up to a table and climb up on one of the chairs, the only thing he said was a simple "Ah." From their seat, they gestured at the chair next to theirs and, catching their drift, Rogal sat down. He stared at his child, who looked very satisfied about this whole thing. "So you walk now?" His child nodded. "Yeah." Well then, Rogal guessed that was the end of that conversation, though he could not help but wonder if all parents experienced these kinds of situations. The books he had read hadn't suggested it. Granted, his child was very special.

Now, some might say that, bringing a baby into a forge was very irresponsible and not a good idea at all. And, granted, Vulkan saw their point. But on the other hand, they were his child! He had been in the forge at their age, it seemed only fair that they got to experience it as well! They also didn't know how to walk so he could place them at a safe distance and away from anything that could harm them. Problem solved! At least, that's what he thought when he set to work on a new project, hammering away at the smoldering metal. "FIAH!" his child exclaimed and Vulkan chuckled. "Yes, little one, fire." Then, a few moments later, "Want". Huh. Now that was a new word. Curious as to what had grabbed their attention, Vulkan turned around, only to drop her work in shock as he saw his baby toddle towards the open furnace. With the speed of a Primarch and the reflexes of a father, Vulkan dove to catch his child before they could reach their destination. Immediately, he started fretting, checking them for any injuries. The child only stared up at him, brows furrowed and clearly upset. "Fiah..." they grumbled. Vulkan sighed and touched their forehead with his own. Maybe those people were right. Maybe his child should wait a bit before they got to be in the forge.

Lion had been caught off guard when his child had uttered their first word. That was not going to happen again. That's why he was staring down at his child, a small distance away from him. When his child looked up at him and smiled, he struggled to keep his face straight. "Come here", said Lion and gave his child a curt nod. The child frowned, confused, then started crawling over to him. Lion promptly shoved them back to their original spot with his foot. "Not like that. Walk." Still confused, his child tried to crawl over to him again. And again. And again. Each time, Lion pushed them back to where they started. They were starting to grow agitated, huffing and whining, slamming their tiny fists against the floor. Lion didn't flinch in the face of this tantrum. "Walk." His child glared at him, huffed, and finally stood up. A bit wobbly, but they were on their feet. They looked at him. Frowned, suspicious. And then took a step. When he didn't immediately push them back, they took another, and another, until they were slowly toddling towards him. It was only when they reached Lion, grabbing one of his legs, that he allowed himself to react. A proud smile appeared on his face as he finally scooped his child up. "There. I knew you would get it eventually."

Leman quickly found out that his kid was very food motivated. Just like their old man, hahaha! That's why he got the splendid idea to use it to train them. Ok, maybe 'train' was not the right word, they weren't an animal performing tricks. But that's how he found himself holding a juicy, tender piece of meat, right above them, urging them to stand and follow him. Some might have scoffed at this. But he who laughs last laughs best because wouldn't you know it? The kid stood up! And when Leman took a step backwards, they followed! Though they did look a bit unsure... He waggled the piece of meat enticingly. "Mmm, so tender, so juicy! Maybe I'll just eat it myself!" That apparently did it as his kid then all but rushed him, snatching the meat right out of his hands before shoving it in their mouth, gnawing on it with their tiny baby teeth. Leman laughed heartily and ruffled their hair. "There ya go! Good work, pup!"

Jaghatai's child learned to walk before they could talk and they learned to run before that. The Khan had decided that today would be the day that his child took their first steps and, placing his child on one end of the room and waiting at the other with his arms stretched out and encouraging them, he waited. He smiled when they stood up. Smiled even wider when they took a step forward. And then looked on with bewilderment as they ran straight past him towards the open door instead. Throwing his head back with laughter, Jaghatai followed his child as they ran out the door (capable of keeping up with them with just his walking speed) and watched where they decided to go. He greeted his legion as he passed them, none of them appearing surprised by the fact that the Khan's child could already run like the wind. It made his hearts clench with pride and he looked forward to seeing wherever his child decided to take them.

It takes Roboute longer than he'd like to admit for him to notice that his child is walking. To be fair, he was deep in paperwork and had a headache that was steadily getting worse. For all he knew, his child was on the floor in front of his desk, playing with their toys. If it hadn't been for an Ultramarine getting his attention, a slightly apologetic but frantic "lord Guilliman", then he might have missed it entirely. So he looked up. That's when he saw his child, on their feet and toddling over towards a nearby sofa, one usually reserved for guests or visitors. Together with the Ultramarine, Roboute watched his child leave their toys behind and, upon making it to the sofa, climb up on it, lie down, sigh heavily and take a nap. Roboute glanced at the Ultramarine and after a second, placed a finger in front of his mouth, signaling him to stay quiet. The space marine nodded and went back to standing guard. Roboute took a moment to bask in his child's achievement before going back to work, a slight smile on his face. How he wished he could join them as they napped.

[cipher-fresh]

💬 suffering-academy-student Follow

does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot

#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer

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💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow

what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me

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🚀 silvertraveller Follow

_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow

_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn

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🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow

i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA

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😉 winkles-wonderland Follow

who up lording they time

#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it

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👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow

I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell

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💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow

if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash

__♻️ callmeweaver Follow

__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!

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💫 thecurator Follow

the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors

My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us

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🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow

I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me

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♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow

Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….

#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon

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🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow

Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding

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😐 the-hybrid Follow

Who am I

#please for the love of god help me

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🔹 thetasigma Follow

Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.

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💭 siblingofkarn Follow

Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen

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🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow

I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️

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👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow

For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species

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😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow

I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?

[pfhwrittes]

prompt: gaz and ghost on overwatch, watching soap talk to their contact on the ground, and roasting him alive on comms. just stepping on his neck nonstop. soap can hear them but can't react because the contact spooks easy -391780

@391780 i LOVED this prompt. nothing makes me happier than Ghost and Gaz banter (there's so much of it in the drafts for misery and festivals). hopefully this little blurb satisfies the prompt!

-- “Permission to speak freely, sir?” 

Soap’s earpiece crackles as Gaz opens the comms, distracting him for a second from the twitchy man in front of him. 

“Go ahead, sergeant.” Ghost rumbles.

“You ever realise that Soap stands with his hip cocked?” Soap can hear the shit eating grin in Gaz’s voice. The sleekit wee bastard. 

“Hm. Looks like a teapot.”

“A teapot, sir?”

“Like the nursery rhyme.” 

The comm crackles again as it cuts off Garrick’s stifled chuckle. 

Soap shifts his stance, subtly redistributing his weight to rest evenly and bringing his hands up to loop his thumbs into the shoulder straps of his vest. There, now he can’t be called a fuckin’ teapot. The informant flicks his eyes over Soap warily. 

The comm clicks on again.

“Think he heard us, sergeant?” Ghost asks, amusement lacing his tone.

“Can’t be sure sir, it appears Cap has taken Soap’s place temporarily.” Gaz’s voice wobbles with repressed laughter. 

“Can’t see it myself, Garrick.”

“Why’s that, sir?” 

“Doubt Price would dare show ‘is face if he had a mop like that on his head.” Ghost deadpans. Soap feels his eye twitch as Gaz chokes back another burst of laughter. Cheeky fuckin’ cunts. 

“Looks -” Gaz cuts off the comm before flicking it back on, “looks like he lost a fight with a pair of clippers -” the comm cuts off again and Soap swears he can hear Gaz wheezing somewhere above him. 

Soap moves one of his hands to scratch at the back of his helmet with his middle finger, aware of the way the informant tracks his movements. If those pair of wallopers blow this op, Soap swears to himself that he’ll dye every single one of Ghost’s balaclavas pink and sew a Saltire on the front of Gaz’s cap in place of the Union Jack. 

Abruptly the tone on the comms change. 

“Garrick.” Ghost snaps, the teasing lilt to the banter is gone and in its place is the hard tone Soap’s heard before when things are about to get dicey. 

“I see ‘em.” 

“Keep them in your sights, I don’t like the look of -” whatever Ghost doesn’t like the look of gets cut off as an explosion sends a shockwave of sound and dust over Soap, forcing him to cover his head from flying debris. 

- 

Much later when the three of them are getting chewed out by Price for “missing a whole fucking truckload of insurgents because you three were too busy dicking around on the bloody comms” Soap decides that his little sewing project isn’t nearly enough in the way of payback.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Lucy awaits Tommy's return from his and Lizzie's honeymoon.

Word Count: 6,162

Warnings: Jealousy, depression, and sexual content.

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Chapter 4: Are You Still Mine

Upon her return to Arrow House on the night of the wedding, Lucy found that Lizzie did not have her things moved to a room down the hall, or even kept her in the same wing, as she had expected. No; she instead had ordered her moved to the entire opposite side of the house. The room was dark, the recipient of very little sunlight thanks to the way that its window was facing. And Lucy was pretty sure it had drafts.

Frances had asked her if she would like to change rooms, but she declined. She hated to ask the staff to move all her things around again, and if this was where Lizzie wanted her to be, she supposed it would be best to abide by her wishes. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.   

Ruby had gotten settled in her room and was becoming well acquainted with Charlie and the staff, but she cried nearly every time Lucy tried to pick her up. She was beginning to fear that the little girl hated her. Even though it was more likely that she was just missing her parents. 

Lucy had loved Ruby from the first moment that Tommy laid her gently into her arms. How could she not, when she was half him? And the girl was sweet as an angel, at least when she wasn’t wailing through half the night. 

“She’s really loud,” Charlie complained, wandering into the newly fashioned nursery one night while Lucy held Ruby as she cried, rocking her back and forth in the rocking chair and shushing her gently. 

“I know, Charlie. You can go sleep in one of the other rooms, if you’d like,” she suggested, but he had just come over, peering at his sister curiously. 

“Is she always gonna be this loud?”

Lucy let out a breathless laugh. “I hope not.”

He reached out to pat Ruby’s back awkwardly, before sitting down on the floor beside where Asher was laying near Lucy’s feet, petting the dog and keeping her company until the baby finally cried herself to sleep and Lucy managed to maneuver her into her crib without waking her, ushering Charlie back to tuck him into his own bed.  

“Is Lizzie my new mum?” he asked while she pulled the blanket up around him. Lucy hesitated, an ache blooming in her chest at the idea of Charlie calling Lizzie ‘Mum.’ But she swallowed it down. The last thing that the children needed was to be put in the middle of this whole messy arrangement between their parents. She wanted to shield them from that as much as she could. 

Do I even still qualify as Charlie’s parent? she mused miserably to herself. Lizzie would be in charge of a large part of his upbringing, and Lucy would be absent for undetermined swaths of time due to working with Tommy in London. Depending on how often she was gone at work throughout the week, she honestly wouldn’t blame him if he did start considering Lizzie more his mother than her.  

“If you want her to be. Or she can just be your friend. You can call her whatever you like, so long as you are respectful towards her, yeah?”

He nodded, but his little brow creased. “It wouldn’t upset you, if I called her mum?”

Yes. “No, sweetheart,” she forced a smile. “It wouldn’t upset me. I just want you to be comfortable with her.”

“I like her. She’s always nice to me.”

A stab of jealousy, white hot, twisted in Lucy’s heart, but she ignored it. All that mattered was that Charlie was happy and okay. She would not let her feelings get in the way of that. “I’m glad, Charlie. And I’m sure that your dad will be too. It’ll make it easier for him if you and her get along.”

He nodded, and she gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. 

“Get some sleep, kiddo.”

“Night, Lucy.”

“Goodnight, Charlie. I love you.” She turned out the light for him and crept out the door, checking one last time on Ruby and making sure that the nurse was up and able to go to her if she woke up again. Satisfied, she then made the trek back to the other side of the house, Asher trotting at her side. 

At night, she laid awake in her bed, and tried not to think about how cold the space beside her was. Or what Tommy and Lizzie were most likely doing. Loneliness coiled around her, dark and with a touch like ice. She drew the blankets tighter around herself with a shiver. It had been so long since she slept alone. Tommy always made it his life’s mission to keep her warm; never a night passed when their bodies weren’t entangled, his arms around her and her head on his chest, their legs twisted together. 

She wondered if Tommy would even still want her by the time he got back.

He had a new plaything now. Lizzie was younger, taller, prettier, and unscarred. She was able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming from trauma-induced nightmares. She did not fall into hysterics when squeezed into a small, cramped space. Perhaps he would find that he preferred her.   

“Mrrp!” There was a soft sound, and then the ever so slight dipping of the mattress as a small body hopped up onto it. Lucy rolled over, opening the blankets to the little creature pattering towards her. 

“Hey, Trouble.”

The tortoiseshell cat meowed again, curling up against her side. Lucy let her fingers stroke through her soft fur, scratching her behind the ear and smiling a little when she started to purr. 

The bed dipped considerably as the larger bulk of Asher followed Trouble in jumping onto the mattress, laying down in the spot Tommy usually took up. He brought his cold nose in close to Lucy’s face, giving her a sniff before laying his head down by her chest, letting out a soft whine. She busied the hand not petting Trouble with stroking his deep black fur. 

“Thanks, babies,” she murmured quietly. Asher’s tail had thumped a few times against the mattress, as if he understood her.

For hours, she laid there in the dark, staring up at the canopy, tears silently streaming down her face despite her animals’ best attempts to comfort her.      

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy slipped out of the bedroom, careful to close the door softly so as to not wake Lizzie. Sneaking barefoot into the sitting room of the spacious suite they were renting for the week, he sat down heavily on the couch, reaching for the phone.  

He had called Arrow House twice since arriving in Paris, and both times, Lucy had not answered. The first time around, Frances had informed him that she had to go to London unexpectedly to deal with some issue at his office there, and the second time, she was out riding with Charlie.

He was beginning to worry that she was avoiding him. 

Her demeanor at the wedding reception scared him. The expression in her eyes was so sad, and she kept looking at him as if she expected never to see him again. He felt awful for just leaving her there, internally kicking himself for not insisting that she be allowed to come along on the honeymoon. 

He would certainly be having more fun if she was here. 

He was trying to ensure that Lizzie had a good time, but as for himself, well…everything in France was tainted for him. Memories of the last time he’d been there, elbow deep in mud, the dark walls of the tunnel closing in around him, kept replaying on a loop in his head. 

At night, he closed his eyes and imagined that it was Lucy who was under him, but the feel of it was all wrong. The way the hands that were on his body touched him wasn’t right, and try as he might, he couldn’t fully relax. 

He moved performatively, letting Lizzie touch and kiss him and guide his hands where she pleased, his mind only half there until she reached her peak and he hastily pulled out, fisting his cock and always finishing on her stomach. The last thing that he wanted was another accident. Much as he loved Ruby, he was not keen on the idea of having any more children to further shackle him and Lizzie together. 

Afterwards, he would lay there on his side of the bed, thumbing at his brow, and feeling like the biggest scum on the earth. 

It felt like he was cheating on her.

Even though Lucy agreed to it, even though she said it was fine, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling that he was betraying her. 

He would lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling and hating himself. He couldn’t sleep without Lucy. The weight of her in his arms, head resting on her spot on his chest, had grown to be akin to that of a child clinging to a teddy bear during the night for comfort. Without her, he found himself unable to relax enough to even consider dozing off.    

Lucy was a cuddler, always clinging to him like a koala every chance she got. He couldn’t even remember a time when they’d shared a bed and she wasn’t snuggled up against him. Lizzie, however, was not, preferring to lay on her own side of the bed, the most touching between them being her hand resting on the center of his chest. He tried holding her the first few times after they had sex, but it always felt wrong, and neither of them seemed to particularly enjoy it, Lizzie always drifting away to her own side of the bed when she was ready to actually fall asleep.  

With a heaving sigh, he dialed the number for Arrow House and lifted the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. With each buzz, his paranoia grew. He had never spent so long away from her. It left his nerves on edge. He just needed to hear her voice, even if only for a minute. 

A part of him was starting to fear that when they returned to Arrow House, it would be to find Lucy gone. Her things packed up and removed, nothing but a note or merely a message through Frances to offer clues as to where she’d disappeared to. Departed from his life forever.   

Please, love, pick up the phone. He knew that it was late, and she quite likely could already be in bed, but if he could talk to her for just a second, just one second…

What little hope he had dwindled with each buzz across the line, and he was about to hang up as the last ring reverberated in his ear, when the other end picked up. 

“Hello?”

For a moment, he couldn’t say anything, too relieved and emotional at the mere sound of her voice to form words. 

“Hi, love,” he finally managed to get out, swallowing roughly and clearing his throat after hearing how rough it sounded. 

Quiet on the other end. “Hey, Tommy.”

“I, erm…” he shifted awkwardly, “I called earlier…”

“I know, Frances told me. I’m sorry, I was out dealing with a disaster. I didn’t want to call back in case you two were busy…”

“It’s alright,” he plucked a cigarette from his case where it was laid out on the table, swiping it across his lips before lighting it. “Do you need me to come home?” Please say yes. “If there’s a problem…” 

“No, no, I got it all sorted. Don’t worry,” he heard what sounded like papers being shuffled in the background. “How’s the honeymoon going?”

“It’s fine.” He winced at how apathetic his voice sounded.

“Are you having a good time?” He could distinctly imagine her frowning, phone held to her ear by her raised shoulder while she juggled papers and a pen at her desk. Or maybe she was curled up on one of the couches, Trouble in her lap and a cup of tea or a glass of whiskey on the table beside her. Maybe a book she’d been reading when he called still clutched in one hand.

“Lizzie is.” He scratched at his brow, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “I’m sorry for calling you so late.”

“It’s okay. I was still up anyway.” 

“I thought maybe you would already have gone to bed.”

A pause. “I can’t really sleep right now.” Her voice was quiet, as if she was ashamed of it.

“Me neither.” He rested his elbow on his knee, leaning forward in a way that his back was likely to protest about later. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A sigh. “Only a few more days.”

“Yes.” It felt like an eternity. “Listen, there are some travel brochures in my desk. Take a look at them. After I get back, we’ll go wherever you want. Just the two of us.”

A tiny sound that might’ve been the bitten off part of a chuckle sounded from the other end of the phone. “You can’t just take one holiday after the other, love.”

“Well, no…but after a little while. Pick something out, and we can start planning.”

“Alright.” Her voice raised a little, and Tommy exhaled a relieved breath at the thought that he’d managed to at least somewhat raise her spirits. 

“How are the kids?”

“They’re fine. They miss you. I took Charlie out on Mystery the other day. It won’t be long before he’ll be able to ride on his own.”

“Mm,” he hummed, smiling at the thought. “Give them a kiss from me.”

“I will.”

“Are you working?”

“Yeah, figured I might as well if I wasn’t going to sleep.”

“Try not to overdo it.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

He bit back a smile. An ache of longing throbbed in his chest. All he wanted was to see her face. That sparkle in her big eyes whenever she teased him. The impish twitch at the corner of her lips. He could take her into his arms. Pinch playfully at her hip and kiss the top of her head…

He was ripped unceremoniously from his little fantasy by what sounded like movement in the bedroom. His smile dropped. 

“I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded, though she could not see him. “Just a few more days.”

They bid goodbye and he hung up the phone, wiping his hand down his face. Lizzie’s voice called out to him from the bedroom. Tommy sighed, trying to push away the sudden zing of resentment that flooded his veins towards her. Tipping his head back, he inhaled deeply from his cigarette, trying to cobble up enough willpower to return to his wife, despite the way his entire being longed so desperately for another. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She sat at her desk, listening anxiously for the sound of Tommy and Lizzie’s car pulling up to the house. They were due home any minute, and with each tick of the clock on the mantle, the tightness in her chest seemed to cinch a little more, making it hard to breathe. She kept fiddling with her rings, at risk of wearing away the skin or giving herself little blisters on her fingers with the way that she kept twisting and fidgeting with the metal. 

Charlie was playing with his toys on the floor, making little engine noises as he dragged his toy cars across the rug. Ruby was upstairs, taking a nap while the nanny and Cyril watched over her.

“When will Dad be home?” Charlie asked, looking up at her with blue eyes that were the perfect mixed shade of Tommy’s and Grace’s.

“Soon, kiddo,” she offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray and straightening out some of the papers on her desk. 

Her days since the wedding had been taken up with work. Which was fine; she was grateful for the distraction. Though she still often caught herself staring out the window, lost in her gloomy musings about the future.

It was not long until her ears pricked at the sound of a car approaching the house. Charlie immediately jumped to his feet, whooping in excitement and racing for the front door. Lucy smiled a little to herself at his enthusiasm, rocking back in her chair with her knuckles raised to her lips. The engine shut off, and she heard the sounds of car doors opening and closing, and then the hum of voices when Charlie greeted his father in the entryway.

She would hang back for a little while; wait until they had come inside and the children got a chance to see them first. 

Watching the second hand on the clock tick steadily around its circumference, she rubbed mindlessly at her lips. She would just wait until they were settled…

Oh, who was she kidding? She was stalling; frozen with terror over what sort of reception she was about to be in for. 

When the second hand had made five full circles around the clock, and her cigarette was almost entirely depleted, she stubbed it out in the ashtray and forced herself to her feet. Each footstep that carried her closer to the door of her office felt like it was bringing her closer to her doom, rather than the man who had been her lover for over eight years. 

She just stepped into the hall, moving to close the door behind her, when she heard heavy footfalls approaching so quickly that she barely had time to turn before he was on her. And then his hands were cupping her face, mouth slanting over hers. Lucy let out a startled little sound, leaning into him on instinct. One palm flattened on his chest over his heart,  whilst the other ran up his neck to cup the back of his head. Tommy kissed her hard, purring contentedly against her mouth, thumb stroking her cheek while one hand fell away to grip her waist and pull her closer. 

For a moment, the whole world fell away, and there was nothing but the soft press of his lips to hers. Head tilting a little, he deepened the kiss with a parting of his mouth and a deep stroke of his tongue against hers. Lucy could not quite contain the soft moan she let out in reaction, fingers curling tighter around his lapels. Body fitting snugly to hers, Tommy sandwiched her between himself and the door she’d just pulled closed a moment ago. The warmth of him seeped into her even through the layers of their clothes, his distinctive scent of smoke and pine trees surrounding her comfortingly.

When he pulled away it wasn’t to go far. He merely dropped his face into her neck, pressing kisses all along the column of her throat and pausing to nuzzle at her skin and breathe her in.

“Hi,” he sighed out, lips tickling her when they moved, his nose brushing tenderly against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lucy let out a quiet, somewhat bewildered laugh, her brain still working to catch up with the rest of her after being kissed passionately enough to make her head spin. 

“Hi.”

He finally lifted his head, still lingering in close enough that their noses brushed. His thumb stroked at her cheekbone, eyes lowered and gazing at her adoringly. When she rubbed her hand up and down the back of his neck, he made another soft purring noise from in his chest and shifted closer to her.

My big grumpy black cat, she caught herself thinking fondly. 

“How was it?” she asked, voice quiet despite it being just them in the hallway. 

His eyes swiped down her body, drinking her in with a look that made butterflies take flight inside her stomach. “Fine,” he said absently, fingertips playing with the collar of her white blouse. His eyes darted up to hers. “I missed you."

She opened her mouth to say that she’d missed him too, when commotion erupted at the other end of the hall. 

“Dad! Dad! Come see what I made while you were away!” Charlie cried out excitedly, entirely oblivious to what was going on between her and his father. He bounded up to them, latching onto Tommy’s leg and tugging. 

“Alright, alright, just a minute, Charlie, yeah?” Tommy gave him a fond ruffle to his hair, and Charlie nodded before zooming away in the direction of the stairs. Tommy watched him go, amusement flickering in his eyes before looking back at her.

“He’s been doing painting in his art lessons this week,” she explained. Tommy’s lips twitched upwards, but an apologetic look crossed his face, leaning forward to touch his forehead to hers with a sigh. “Go,” she urged, rubbing at his forearm. “It’s alright.” 

He kissed her again. “We’ll catch up properly later. I promise.” Based on the coy glint in his eye, she knew he was not talking about just sitting down and chatting about his trip. A throb of warmth pooled in her lower belly. 

“‘Kay.”

He kissed her once more and reluctantly pulled away, just in time for Charlie to circle his way back to them, grabbing Tommy by the hand and half dragging him towards the stairs. She smiled at him when he shot an amused look at her from over his shoulder, before Charlie successfully led him out of sight. 

With a sigh, Lucy leaned back against the door, hand raising to rest on her chest, right on top of her collarbones. Relief washed over her like a cleansing waterfall, briefly taking with it the doubt that had been plaguing her since the wedding. 

That lasted only a moment, however, until she heard the click of approaching heels, and Lizzie rounded the corner, head held high with Ruby in her arms, the baby hoisted up against one hip. 

“Lizzie, hi, did have a good time—?” 

Lizzie walked right on past her, face drawn into a tight expression akin to that of thunder, eyes staring straight ahead. Lucy might as well have not even been there at all. 

She sighed, hands and fingers seeking out her rings to toy with as she watched Lizzie stride down the hall and vanish around the corner. 

∗ ∗ ∗

After Charlie took Tommy to see his paintings, Lucy returned to her office to wrap up what she had been working on before he and Lizzie had arrived. Hopefully that would give him and Charlie some ample time together.

Checking the clock and capping her pen, she tucked her files away into a drawer in her desk. Locking it with a key from her pocket, she took one last look around her office, checking to make sure that there was nothing else that needed putting away. Satisfied, she ventured out to find wherever it was that Tommy may have wandered off to. 

She didn’t need to look far. The muffled sound of voices led her to the main entryway, where Tommy and Lizzie were standing. Lizzie had her coat on, a picnic basket in the crook of one elbow and jaw set stubbornly, irritation flickering in her eyes.

“Lizzie, come on…” Tommy was saying.

“No, Tommy, this is important!”

“I’m not saying it isn’t, but I don’t see why she can’t come–”

“What’s going on?” Lucy asked, approaching them. Tommy looked over at her, his expression markedly different from the one he’d had when greeting her earlier. He looked tired and regretful. Almost haggard.  

“I arranged a picnic for me, Tommy, and the children,” Lizzie said, accusing eyes dragging away from Tommy to fix on Lucy. 

Lucy blinked at the blatant omission. “Just you four?”

Lizzie did not waver, chin angling up slightly. “The kids need some uninterrupted time with their father.”

“But you’ll be there,” Lucy added. Lizzie’s jaw clenched. 

“I already told Charlie about it. He’s excited.” Those accusing eyes darted between Tommy and Lucy, challenging. “He’ll be disappointed if we don’t go.”

Anger spiked in Tommy’s face. “Don’t you dare try to use Charlie–”

“Tommy,” Lucy half reached out to touch his arm, then thought better of it with Lizzie standing right there and already agitated. “It’s fine.”

He shot her a baffled expression. What she’s trying to do isn’t okay.

But she’s right that the children ought to have some time with their parents.

You’re Charlie’s mother. 

She gave him a sad smile. Was she? Still? Technically he had never been hers, even if she had always viewed him as such. 

He’s probably sick of me after a whole week of it just being me and him. The attempt at levity didn’t really work, Tommy’s frown still staying in place. So she tried again. The kids deserve to have more time with you. And it would probably be good for both of them to see you and Lizzie together. Charlie could use some bonding time with her, and having you around might help facilitate that. “We can catch up later,” she said the last part out loud. Tommy shot her a helpless, reluctant look. “It’s okay.” Already she could hear the clatter of Charlie’s little feet running towards them, eagerly latching onto his father’s leg. She couldn't bring herself to deny them time together. If it meant that she had to be left behind, so be it. 

In a movement that she sensed was both an attempt to soothe the sting and in defiance of Lizzie, Tommy leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Won’t be long,” he murmured, quiet enough so that only she could hear. Nodding, Lucy managed a weak smile. 

“Have a good time.” 

“Dad, c’mon,” Charlie took hold of his hand, and with one final sad look her way, Tommy let himself be pulled towards the doors. Lizzie was standing there, waiting. The nanny had come at some point with Ruby, now securely in Lizzie’s arms. Lizzie’s eyes were dark, lips pressed in a thin line while she watched them. But once Tommy joined her and they started to walk out the door and down the driveway, her expression melted into a giddy smile. Lucy stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the solid wooden frame, watching the smiling family walk away from her.

After they disappeared from view, she took a step back, closed the door, and with a sigh returned to her office.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy eyed Lizzie warily as they began the walk back to the house. She kept making excuses for them to stay out longer, until the sun was sinking low in the sky. And the entire time they were out, she kept shooting him these wide-eyed, hopeful looks that made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Even as he tried to distance himself from her, focusing his attention solely on Charlie and Ruby, she kept looking at him like that.

“Dinner will be ready shortly, sir,” Frances informed him as she helped him remove his coat. 

“Right. Thank you.” He barely got two footfalls away before Lizzie was calling for him again. 

“Tommy, will you come see Ruby’s new room?”

She has to be doing this on purpose. He looked over his shoulder at her. Lizzie’s brows were raised expectantly, Ruby already half asleep in her arms. Gaze shifting to his daughter, he sighed. 

Just for a minute, he told himself. “Alright.” He followed Lizzie up the stairs and down the hall, steps faltering and brow furrowing when she opened the door to Lucy’s room to reveal that the inside had been entirely redecorated and transformed into a nursery. The big canopy bed was gone, replaced by a crib and playmat. Where the vanity had once been, now there was a chest of drawers, a rocking chair by the window where a plush loveseat once was.  

His frown stayed in place as he followed Lizzie to the crib, bending his head to give his little Ruby a kiss before Lizzie laid her down for her nap. 

“Can you believe that she’ll be walking soon?” Lizzie shook her head, smiling and wiggling her fingers in front of Ruby’s face. 

“Mm,” he acknowledged, still looking around. Even the artwork on the wall was different. “This is Lucy’s room.”

“I asked her to switch so Ruby would be closer to us.”

Us. Just how often did she expect him to be sleeping with her? He thought that he had made it clear before the wedding what the sleeping arrangements would look like after the honeymoon.

“And she agreed to move?”

“Of course she did,” Lizzie’s tone sharpened, but at the way his brows rose in response she softened slightly, looking back at their dozing baby. “She wants what’s best for her.”

“Yes, she does,” he agreed. Don’t you dare try to use that against her. He had always been infinitely grateful for the love Lucy showed his children, despite their maternities. 

“We should go down for dinner,” Lizzie said, making her way to the door. After one last second spent glancing around the room, Tommy sighed and followed her. Lizzie moved with brisk steps, and Tommy allowed himself to lag behind, not particularly eager to spend anymore time with her after a week of being stuck in close quarters together.

A meow drew his attention, footsteps skidding to a halt when he spotted Trouble lounging on a windowsill in a patch of sunlight. She was watching him with those assessing green eyes, tail flicking back and forth casually. 

“Hey, girl,” he approached her slowly, suddenly deeply aware of the fact that he was being strongly scrutinized. “Sleeping on the job, eh? Don’t you have mice to catch?” He reached out a hand to her, and she suddenly hissed, paw swiping out towards him. He barely managed to retract his hand in time to avoid the sting of her claws. “Alright, alright,” he held up both hands, taking a step away from the irritated cat. 

You left her, Trouble’s eyes seemed to accuse.

It wasn’t unheard of for Trouble to take swats at him from time to time. She had always been deeply protective of Lucy, and while he and the cat had mostly found common ground in their shared love for their little redhead, Trouble would always, without fail, be ready to bite or swat at him any time that he upset her.  

“I know,” he said softly in response to the cat’s silent accusation. “But I’m back now. Things will be like they were.”

Trouble just let out another meow. One that he was pretty sure meant, we’ll see.

∗ ∗ ∗

They served salmon for dinner, along with potatoes and steamed vegetables. Tommy sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, staring at the spread of food laid out in front of him. When the serving bowls were passed his way, he spooned only the smallest of portions onto his plate. Lizzie sat at his right. Charlie on his left. 

All the other chairs were empty. 

He frowned as both Lizzie and Charlie started eating, looking at the various entryways into the dining room, expecting to see his redhead enter at any moment. 

“Frances?”

She looked up from where she’d been pouring Lizzie a glass of gin. “Yes, sir?”

“Where’s Lucy?”

Frances looked between him and Lizzie nervously. “She’s working late, Mr. Shelby. She won’t be able to make it to dinner.”

He felt his brows draw in. Had something else happened that she needed to attend to? Did his absence this past week cause too much work to be put on her shoulders? 

His fingers ran mindlessly over the smooth handles of the silverware to the right of his plate, lips turning downwards.

Or was she avoiding them?

He wouldn’t blame her if she was. What did he expect; especially after he ditched her to go play happy families with Lizzie rather than spending some time with her after a whole week spent apart?

Should he go to her? Or would it be better to leave her alone until she decided she was ready to see him? He felt adrift, completely unsure of what to do. It was a feeling that was completely foreign to him when it came to Lucy. Normally he knew her inside out. Often able to anticipate her needs and emotions with ease. But this whole situation was uncharted waters for both of them.

Did she share his feelings that he had been unfaithful to her? Did she realize while he was away that she deserved far more than to be the mistress to a man who could offer her nothing but a broken, twisted heart? 

She deserved so much better than him. Even though he loved her with his entire being, it was not even close to enough. He frankly had a hard time fully understanding why she was still with him at all. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat roughly. “Make sure to send a tray of food to her office then, will you? I don’t want her to go hungry.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Beside him, Lizzie stabbed aggressively at her food and glared at him. 

After dinner was cleared away, Tommy stood hastily from his seat, prepared to sprint for Lucy’s office if he had to, but yet again Lizzie’s honeyed words beat him to it.

“Charlie, don’t you think it would be fun if the three of us all played a game together? You have some board games stashed away in the library, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” 

Tommy slammed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth together. He wasn’t sure what frustrated him more: her constant sabotaging, or her using Charlie to accomplish it. 

“Wouldn’t that be fun, Tommy?” Lizzie asked, and he turned his head to meet her gaze, her expression nothing but sweet and coaxing while she fluttered her eyelashes at him. 

“Please, Dad? Please?” Charlie begged. 

Tommy exhaled once, deeply. “Alright.”

Charlie cheered, and took off towards the library. 

“We should invite Lucy to join us,” he suggested. 

“She’s busy. No need to bother her,” Lizzie stood, pushing her chair in and moving to follow Charlie. “Besides, I think it’s good for the two of us to have some more time with Charlie.”

“Lizzie.” He spoke slowly, taking very great care when choosing his words. “Stop using him.”

“I’m not–”

“Yes, you are.”

Her lips pressed together, eyes lowering. She said nothing for a few seconds, then sighed. “You’re going to have plenty of chances to spend time with her once you go back to work. I want Charlie to see us together, Tommy. He needs to understand that we’re a family now. And why I’m the one taking care of him when you aren’t here.” She looked up at him, eyes suddenly very vulnerable. “I’m nervous about how things might go when you aren’t here. He might not listen to me.”

Tommy bristled slightly at what she was insinuating.  “He’s a good kid, Lizzie.”

“I know, I just…look, I know Lucy is the closest thing he’s had to a mother since Grace died, and I’m not trying to replace either of them, but…I think it would be good for both of us if he at least recognizes me as your wife. And as his step-mother.”

“He likes you. He trusts you. He’s known you his whole life. Lucy and I have both explained to him that he needs to respect you. And if he doesn’t, Frances can help you with him while I’m away. It may take some time for him to adjust, but he’ll get there.”  

Lizzie nodded, looking down again, suddenly seeming very insecure, and Tommy immediately felt bad. This whole arrangement, while she’d agreed to it, couldn’t exactly be easy for her. She would need time to get adjusted too. 

“Let’s go join him in the library. Before he bursts from excitement,” he suggested, standing and using a guiding hand to usher her towards where Charlie had run off. Lizzie glanced over at him, that hopeful, dare he say lovesick look appearing in her eyes once more. He swallowed harshly, tempering down his suspicions and concerns about what exactly she was trying to achieve here. She knew what she agreed to.

Surely she could not be hoping that there was a chance he would concede to changing the entire arrangement that the three of them had come to, could she?

That would be foolish. He and Lucy couldn’t have been more clear about how things were going to be if they tried.

But still, his nerves piqued, alarm bells going off in his ears, their shrill cries only growing when Lizzie reached down to take his hand as they made their way to the library.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[joyoushyuck]

15:45

Donghyuck is shooting you a wide-eyed look, lips set in a pout, batting his lashes and all. His manipulation is as clear as daylight. He knows you can't resist his charm when he brings out his fatal puppy eyes. Under normal circumstances, you would have given in by now, but this is anything but normal.

You take another look at what you are sure is the ugliest house plant ever, repulsed by the mere sight of it. You don't understand why Donghyuck would go out of his way to pick the strangest of plants everytime he stepped into a nursery. You remember his past infamous pet plants. His devil’s ivy (which he so lovingly called divy) almost killed Daegal, and his mother of thousands was so revolting that his own mother refused to drop by until he got rid of it.

Now he wants a goddamn sea onion of all things to add to your list of greatest miseries. It's not even a seedling, it is fully grown and at a point where it just cannot get anymore hideous. The cherry on top is definitely the bulb sitting on top of the soil.

“Stop calling my baby ugly!” He whines.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. You sense an oncoming headache. “Hyuck, there are some ferns over there,” you point in the general direction of some decent-looking plants. “Do you want to take a look at them before we make a decision? I saw some moth orchids too-”

“Baby!” His gripe cuts you off. “We formed an instant connection the moment our eyes met! I just know this is it!”

You don't want to know what eyes he is talking about. The poor salesboy who had the misfortune of helping you find a plant looks like he is two seconds away from crying. Donghyuck is still giving you his fatal puppy eyes. This plant would ruin your aesthetics.

“Fine,” you relent reluctantly because the headache is getting worse and the salesboy is getting teary eyed. Not because you love Donghyuck or something.

Donghyuck does a small victory dance and cups your cheeks to press a quick kiss on your lips. It doesn't make your heart somersault into your stomach at all.

That's just gross.

If months later, you are the one taking care of Mr. Anion (a terrible pun) while Donghyuck (being the irresponsible father that he is) is on a world tour, it isn't because you love him either. Or whatever.

That's just gross.

-

Note

Working on your requests. Might take some time:)

Also Donghyuck would 100% be ugly plants enthusiast. He has that type of unhinged energy. Reblog if you agree.

(reblog even if you don't agree because it'll help me π_π)

P.S I'll answer the asks once I'm done writing the requests. I read all of them.

[ladylaviniya]

The Dog Days Are Over

MasterList || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: You were destined to be another Alpha in your family...so why does the test say you're an Omega?

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Omegaverse, A/B/O, age-gap, vaginal medical examination, inspired by the tragedy and abuse of the Trouble Teen Industries in America.

Pairing: Alpha!Henry Cavill X Omega!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Author Notes:

★Please if you have been affected by the trouble teen industry scroll down and click one of the links at the bottom of the fic. I cannot promise they will help but I can promise it's always an option to try. 💙 You may have seen this fic posted before.

★I have had to repost this story because my old account had been shadow banned.

Inspiring Song: The Dog Days By Florence & The Machine

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 15th 2023, 13:00pm, Trinity, California, America.

“Holy shit, holy shit, no, no, no!” You sobbed.

To the light of your bathroom you held a plastic stick test, it’s tip was soaked in your urine. Five other tests were on the floor around your feet, all positive; all Omega.

You couldn’t believe this, your whole life you had heard on repeat over and over “Alpha, Alpha, you are an Alpha.”

Her parents were both Alphas which meant you were supposed to be an Alpha!

The possibility of being an Omega for you had to be less than six percent. The last Omega in your family was your great-great-grandmother on your mother’s side or some distant shit like that. Your aunts and uncles were all Alphas.

Your family have always told you that “to be an Omega is to be a waste of time. A curse. A weak link of society.”

Omegas were submissive, obedient, they were at home looking after pups or in the hospital at the nursery or at daycares looking after loud, slobbering toddlers.

Your family were strongly built, they were made of soldiers, police officers, construction developers, political leaders and company CEO’s. Not pathetic, whiney housewives. Omegas were “too emotional” for those bigger fields.

Currently you were seeing your whole world and way of life swirling down the toilet bowl as you flushed it. You wanted to stay in college and study to be a high paid vet! Now you were risking being sent to a correctional centre or foreign country with extra distant family and forced to knit and paint until finally sold off to a partner or a birthing centre for science.

You sobbed harder before finally vomiting over the toilet bowl induced by the overwhelming stress.

Laying your cheek on the seat you glanced at your phones time and cringed. Your mother would be home any minute! Picking up each test, you considered snapping them in half and clogging the toilet up with them, but what was the point? When scent was in the picture evolution was the final bitch...

Looking at the many smiley faces in your hands you felt like they were mocking you, laughing at your further misery. Normally you would have gotten angry, but now…instead you were consumed by hopelessness and sadness.

You cried and cradled the pee tests to your chest. Stumbling out of the bathroom you floated to your side table and laid the tests down. You slumped and crawled into your bed, beneath your covers, you hugged the duvets and sniffled.

“W-worst day ever,” you whimpered and whined over and over, muffled by the softness of your pillows.

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April 15th 2023, 16:30pm, Trinity, California, America.

“Y/N! Come down here young lady!” Your mother called from the kitchen.

Your eyes flashed open, You were wrapped in a tumble of your sheets and blankets. Your mother must’ve just come just gotten home, she was always so busy with her corporate work. You hadn’t seen your dad in two weeks since his overtime in the city bank.

Who were you to complain? It paid for everything you had ever known...You just wished some money could’ve bought times you missed or never experienced with your family...

You could hear her call again, firmer this time around.

You groaned and dragged yourself up from your bed and down the stairs. Your stomach growled, you were starved...hungry. You looked at your phone again and squinted at the time...four hour long nap.

You wondered what your mother was planning to cook or if she was just going to order another pizza, her cooking sucked if you were being honest...

Stepping into the kitchen your mother was kicking off her leather shoes and ripping her suit blazer over the counter. She looked angry, god why was she so pissed now? What had you done this time?

“What did I say about boys?” She snapped over her shoulder. She slammed the medical cabinet shut and frantically popped a suppressant and painkiller. She swallowed them dry and grunted, clenching a fist and held up an accusing finger at you.

Sure she had every right to be grumpy. It was your job to complete chores while you studied at home. Laundry hadn’t been folded and dishes hadn’t been put away from the dish washer.

But to be mad about boys? Now that, you didn’t understand the sudden burst of tone.

You felt your body loosen and turn icy, your skin covered in goosebumps.

Your mother was furiously popping a second pill before her when you shivered, “D-don’t bring boys over.”

She sneered, her canines flashing; her eyes identical to yours, glared you down.

Stepping around you to the pantry cupboards, she whipped out an air freshener and dosed the room in a scent of lavender…only to be clouded by hormonal pheromones again...the lavender was defenceless against the smell.

You felt the air grow painfully heavy as your mother hissed and sprayed the can out, before furiously slamming onto the counter and slamming the cupboards shut.

“Then why the fuck do I smell an omega?!” her sharp nail pointed to the ceiling and she began yelling as though there was someone upstairs she was calling to, “You tell that bloody boy to get out before I haul his goddamn omega ass out onto the fucking sidewalk!”

Omega…She thinks I brought an omega over…She smells…me…omega…I’m an omega…no…no…

“M-mum…I don’t have a b-boy over,” You stepped from side to side nervously and wrung your hands.

Your mother pinched the bridge her of nose and sighed, “Well Y/N…I didn’t know you were into girls,” gently reaching out, she pulled back your silk cap, releasing your protected hair, “…but she needs to leave.”

 Your mother’s fingers touched your cheek, she flinched at the heat in your face, you were boiling. It was then that colour started to fade from her face.

“Mom, please-” Before you could explain that you were the cause of the flooding scent, she marched her way up stairs and slammed open your bedroom door where a giant wave of humid Omega scent flew out.

No…no! Mom! Stop! No!

Your voice was silent, your lips shut in a worried grimace.

As you ran up the stairs after her, you could hear your mother’s high pitched scream.

☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤Ω☤

April 15th 2023, 17:45pm, Trinity, California, America.

The hospital was…cold…the air-conditioning peltsd down on your neck, it made you want to snuggle deeper into your sweater, it might’ve been spring and warming up but you felt so hot and cold and you knew the soft material is what you needed.

Your mother was trembling just as hard as you were. Her knee was bouncing hard and she.keot wiping her mouth and checking her phone. Your father wasnt responding to any of her texts or calls.... you couldn’t tell if your mother was experiencing fear, rage even …disappointment. She hadn’t let you touch her ever since she found all the positive Omega tests. When you tried to hold her hand, she growled at you from the back of her throat.

It hurt your feelings badly.

You craved touch, you needed support, you needed your mum, you needed affection.

The waiting room was almost empty, the only other people was an Omega man with his pup in a sling while his Alpha wife continued to protectively touch their baby’s forehead. You stared at the baby though… pups…where are my pups?...

“Y/N Y/L/N?” an English accent cut through the train of thought on the baby. In the doorway to the hall, a tall doctor was looking between you and the couple. When you stood up, with your mother hot on your tail, he smiled and led your both to his office.

Awkwardly you sat down onto a waiting chair next to the doctors desk. Taking a deep breath you could smell the scent of Alpha and hand sanitiser. The overwhelming senses made you feel slightly nauseas.

Your mother sat beside you with an annoyed sigh, she lifted her hand out to the doctor to shake it, “Y/M/N, Mrs Y/L/n, Y/N's mother.”

The doctor gave a side glance at her reaction and then looked at you with a soft smile.

He strained in his professional British tone, “Hello Mrs Y/L/N, I’m Doctor Cavill.”

After the two Alphas acquainted themselves he finally sat in his wheeley chair and regarded you.

“What can I help you with today Miss Y/L/N?” he smiled.

You noticed how he looked so clean, and was built like a brickhouse, he smelt like an Alpha. The rooms light glinted on his medical wrist band proclaiming him as his blood type and confirming his own scent.

Behind his spectacles, his eyes were kind, made of two colours, blue and his left eye had a tip of brown…it was merely something you saw...his smile was warm like a freshly baked cookie. Oh god…you was aroused.

You didn’t realise your weren’t answering his question when he stared at you. Your mother finally answered.

“She smells like an Omega.”

Such a dirty word...Omega...you cringed.

....goddess...please don’t let me be a homely sulk.

The Doctor then turned his attention away and pursed his lips and lifted a single brow at your mother, “Is something wrong with that?”

The older woman scoffed and rose her voice to a humiliating state. Your heart was beating fast, your cheeks were heating up and you tried sinking further into the seat. Your nose dug into the woollen shoulder of your sweater. What you would give to be allowed to hide away from this situation.

“Her father and I are both pure blooded Alphas! How can this happen!? The last omega we had was my great-grandmother and that’s it!”

Doctor Cavill sighed calmly as he took off his glasses and placed them on his desk. He folded his arms and stood from his desk, “I see, well then Mrs Y/L/N, please step outside to the waiting room. I will need to conduct a blood and vaginal test.”

Your mother obviously huffed and grumbled about ‘how unprofessional’ and ‘surely I can stay’.

Even now you wanted her to leave with her hostile attitude. Luckily there was no way a female Alpha would argue with a male Alpha. When the door shut though it felt strange. All the heavy tension in the room lifted off of your chest. You felt instantly calmer and made it easier to breathe.

The doctor sat back into his desk chair and crossed a leg over another casually.

“So…” he smiled, “How do you feel Miss Y/L/N?”

You gulped slightly and shakily answered, “Everything is smelling sweeter than normal,” you hated the scent of hand sanitiser but now it was something you wanted to shove up your nose.

If it blocked out every other scent from the dust on the walls to the chocolate in the vending machine outside to the scent of the alpha right in front of you…You would drink it all down.

“No,” he chuckled, pushing back from his desk and started rummaging through his desk for medical items, “I mean, are you okay? Are you stressed or scared, or are you alright? I can always get a cup of water for you. But we need to take your blood first.”

You shook your head and tucked your neck deeper down into your sweater. Your fingers felt the scratchiness of the wool. You nodded and slipped the material off over your head and folded it neatly onto the chair your mother sat.

“I’m terrified,” you confessed, your voice choked up, “I don’t want to be an Omega, I hope this is just a stupid puberty flux…maybe it’s a flip!”

It wasn’t uncommon for this situation to happen. Hormones can sometimes Flip and shows signs for the two other blood types, sometimes blood has become contaminated due to high iron levels or too much sugar intake. Diabetes were always Flipping the board. There were a million things that could cause a Flip in the hormonal pool.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an Omega you know,” the doctor commented sternly, holding up a needle, changing the needle point while you choked.

You felt unusually insulted, “Everything is wrong with being an Omega, I won’t get the job I want and I won’t be allowed to come to parties with my friends, I’ll be stuck home with a…a…a fucking baby. Or sent to a breeding farm! I heard about the science experiments conducted on pregnant Omegas in the camps.”

The doctor turn abruptly at yoj and narrowed his eyes at you, he appeared offended. What does he need to be offended about, he’s an Alpha!

But his frown became a smirk, “You’re aware they are safetly committed with the Omegas consent?”

 He patted the medical chair in the centre of the room, “But whatever case, what do you want to do Career wise?” he asked while you crawled up atop of the tall chair and let him pull up your sleeve and wipe the alcohol on your arm.

“I want to be a vet,” you winced as the needle broke through your skin. You looked away from the bubbling blood being sucked up through the tube.

As he pulled away and capped the needle tip he asked, “Ever thought about midwifery?”

“I don’t like babies,” you snorted ignoring how desperately you were yearning to have one of your own ten minutes ago, “They’re so uncomfortable to be around. And I don’t want to listen to a screaming woman in labour.”

You noticed the movement in his shoulders as they slumped, he nodded and you felt like you were failing an unspoken test. You felt a rising anxiety, you growled to yourself, it’s just a hormonal Flip.

“Fair enough,” Doctor Cavill said off handily, he sealed up your blood tube in a plastic bag and started to write your details. The pen cap lazily hung from his lips. He looked like he smoked…he didn’t smell like it though, maybe it was the way he stood. His scent was so easy to smell and feel…you yearned to know if he could smell you. And to your tragic uncontrol, your underwear were rubbing rough against your sensitive areas, the fumes dragged out this needing slick that was sickening.

Being omega is disgusting, this is what they do all the time? Gross! GET ME SOME ALPHA HORMONES NOW.

You knew this had to be wrong, all the time you had been surrounded by alphas and you had been strong and confident like an alpha, maybe a little strategic like a beta. You were sure though you were alpha rather than beta and there was no possible way for you to present as a dormant omega for this long!

Normally Omegas presented at fucking fourteen to sixteen not your age!!

“How old are you Miss Y/L/N?”

“I’m eighteen,” You informed him of your birthday and he nodded, writing it down in the corner of the bag.

You were officially pissed off, crossing your arms you felt your eyes watering. “I want to be an Alpha or even a Beta,” You whimpered, “I can’t be an Omega, no way.”

The whimper…Shit! Stop whimpering you baby! Stop proving this point! Could you be anymore Omega!?

The doctor placed the test bag on his desk before gifting yoh a soft tissue “Have you taken a home determine test?” his hands settled onto his knees as he crouched down before you.

You broke out into a light sob and nodded, “ugh huh, I took six different ones…all positive for Omega.”

The doctor smiled sadly and handed you the box of tissues he had on his desk. A nurse came knocking barely after you had started. It made you feel puny when you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. You felt helpless, why couldn’t they just get you some alpha hormones already?

“Please take this to the test room,” he asked the nurse, handling a plastic bag with your needle inside.

Doctor Cavill let you cry as long as you wanted and reminded you that it wasn’t a hundred percent if you were an Omega yet.

The doctor rubbed your back and cleared his throat. From a draw below your feet he pulled out a green plastic cape, “Miss Y/L/N would you like to step into the bathroom there and remove your bottoms? Put the gown on?”

Time to get the vaginal confirmation that you were tighter than a needle hole. You pushed his hand away. God he sounded patronising, even if he was being merely polite about the events unfolding you took it as a personal attack, an underlying “You’re a weak omega, deal with it!”

No! I’m not an Omega!

Things were escalating to quickly; you barely realised the conclusions you were leaping to and how dramatic you were pushing with these emotions. You sniffed hard and snapped at him, “Can’t I just take my pants off now?”

Doctor Cavill shifted back uncomfortably, he grit his teeth and scrunched up his eyes, “I merely am offering a more comfortable option,” he clapped his hands, “But you may if you wish, have you ever attended a gynaecologist for a papsmear?” he asked as he got his tools ready from another draw.

You leaped off the chair and slammed yout foot down.

“Duh!” You yelled, kicking your shoes off, and shoving your pants down, You were furious. Moodswings was a popular symptom of Flips.

“I just want to get this over with. Mum is so pissed off. Can’t wait for some fucking A-pills,” you grumbled, leaning back into the chair and spread your legs apart…normally yoh did this with a female doctor but right now you were too impatient to request a woman and you needed to know how fucked up your Flip was and how long would you be experiencing it and how powerful would the drugs be.

You couldn’t even stand the look your mother gave you when she held up the positive determine tests with horror.

The doctor cleared his throat again, snapping white gloves onto his hand and over his wrist band. He squirted a tube of lube over his hands and over the speculum, lining it up to your vagina and pushed it inside slowly, “Miss Y/L/N, please relax for me.”

You huffed to yourself. I am fucking relaxed! -No you’re not, you’re a bad omega, obey him!

The metal was cold inside of you but you were looking forward to the results: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, I am Alpha.

He took a flashlight and shone the light down your passage, looking down at your inner muscles, “How often do you practise sexual intercourse Miss Y/L/N?” looking up at you from your fuzzy pussy.

Shit, the scent was strong, it was so sweet like maple syrup and honey but sweeter…lick me. Oh fuck please alpha please please.

You shook your head and blushed, “N-never, I’ve only masturbated. So…last papsmear I only came in to make sure I didnt have a yeast infection.”

You swallowed hard, your head felt hot and you swore yoj could feel cold sweat dripping down, “Am I an Alpha or Beta?”

The doctor dipped two rubber fingers inside of you, patting down and around inside You. And suddenly his eyes widened, he gently slipped out his fingers and the cold speculum out. On his fingers was blood…oh shit…

“You may sit up and dress Miss Y/L/N, “The doctor set his tools and gloves into a silver tray. You trembled…what were you? A or B?

He was washing his hands in the sink right beside your head as you bit your lips and tugged up your undies and jeans back up. The room was so quiet, the only noise was the sinks running water and the air conditioner. You shivered and sniffled.

Doctor Cavill’s shoulders were low, he turned his head and faced you. Twisting his fingers together he shook his head, “Miss Y/L/N,” he started with a long exhaled breath, “You’re days away from your first Estrus.”

The earth dropped and the moon broke and the stars were dimmed…“What do you mean Estrus!?” yoj questioned. Tears spurted from your eyes again. Gagged by nature.

No fucking way. Yes way.

“‘Heat’, an Omega will go into Estrus or commonly known as Heat while an Alpha will go into Oestrus commonly known as a ‘Rut’,” Doctor Cavill tried explain only for the blood to boil out of you and make you scream at him.

“I know what it is! I must be going into Oestrus, n-not an estrus, I can’t be an Omega, doctor! Ch-Check again!”

Sweat trailed from your face down your neck, your heart was punching your insides, seeking an escape through your ribcage.

When you tried undoing your pants again, The doctor tore your hands away and took your wrists up, he was breathing harshly through his nose, “Miss Y/L/N I’m going to have to ask you to sit down and take a deep breath. Listen to me.”

You shook your head over and over, you couldn’t believe it! You were beginning to sob hard, choking on tears.

You wailed, “No, no, no, please doctor, please!”

Out of the depth of the doctor’s chest came a stern growl, “Sit. Down. Now. Or I will have to restrain and sedate you.”

Your body was out of control, you didn’t want to sit but your arse met the chair cushion anyway.

Good omega.

The doctor huffed, shaking his head with disappointment, your head flinched down, cowering and humiliated. You felt apologetic, but this wasn’t the real you!!

“Good girl,” he praised, he handed you a paper cup filled with water from the sink, “Now drink.”

The water was gulped down in a heartbeat, yoh needed the refreshment even if you didn’t want it, your doctor nodded, “That’s it.”

As you sipped on some more water the nurse from earlier stepped inside and handed the doctor a sheet of paper. The blood results… You shook on the spot, your red face panicking.

“Pl-please,” you choked on the water slightly, clearing your sore throat, you sniffled, “What does it say?”

There was still a chance, maybe he was wrong; maybe this was just a intense Oestrus that was causing you to bleed. Maybe it was so strong your vaginal walls were stabbing themselves, seeking out an omega cock to claim.

Cavill looked from you to the parchment a few times, he shook his head. He held out the medical sheet to you and pointed to a positive cross.

The world went silent even as he was talking to you…it was a distant noise. Static.

“Miss Y/L/N, you are as I had diagnosed, Omega positive,” he scratched his neck gland gently, “You are days away from your first Estrus. I will give you a choice to either battle through it with medical aids or medical suppressants.”

You dropped the paper and the cup, the shock was as cold as ice. You felt weak, your arms numb, your eyes rolled back and your mouth lulled open. Your life was completely over.

You were Omega...and you fainted.

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April 16th 2023, 1:25am, Trinity, California, America.

When you woke up, you were delirious. The world wouldn’t stop twisting and turning. Above you was a bright light, you cringed away and whimpered. There was a mean bite at your wrist.

You felt cold, washed out. Your body was laid out and angled up a slight. Your cheek rubbed into the soft hospital pillow. You smelt blood, so much metallic salt in the air. And your stomach was viciously growling. You peered down and noticed what was pinching your wrist. Handcuffs. You were handcuffed to the railing of the hospital bed!

Clearing your eyes, you noted how you were surrounded by three blue curtains. One was quick to open, making you jump.

The nurse from earlier smiled at you eagerly, her Beta tag was super shiny in the light, forcing you to blink rapidly, “Oh look, you’re awake. Can you please tell me your full name sweetheart?”

When you sat up you moaned out your entire name.

Before you could ask about the handcuffs being removed, the nurse smiled and held up a torch.

“Wonderful, now I am gonna need to shine a little light in your eye, can you please look into the corner of the ceiling dear?”

Doing as you were told, it was quick and over as soon as it had begun. The nurse was pleased, “Fabulous, right, I’ll be right back, Doctor Cavill needs to have a chat with you.”

“B-but my hand…”

Ignoring you, the nurse left.

Something was clearly off. Why did they handcuff you!? You started to tug at the chain, feeling anxiety seep deep and activate a sense of fight or flight. The curtains reopened. And in stepped the doctor.

He grinned and nodded his head to you, “Hello there Y/N, how are we?”

You weren’t amused in the slightest, quick with retort, “Chained to a bed rail.”

He smiled and whipped out a key, uncuffing you from the bed. You cradled your wrist rubbing the ring indent in your skin, murmuring ‘thankyou’.

Your stomach loudly purred, extinguishing the level of discomfort you wanted to send the doctor. “…and hungry.”

“I’ll tell the nurse to get you some jello,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands. Just as he was to leave, you launched yourself forward and caught his medical coat, “Wh-where’s my mom?”

He softly assured you, “She is just sitting in my room, we were discussing options after I showed her and your father your blood results.” Oh…dad…oh jesus…he finally was here.

You suspected your father to have been incredibly furious. How much furniture did he break?

“You…” you paused, “options…” You gulped and smiled at the doctor, “….I want suppressants...as soon as possible.” They would surely fix everything! You could have some and go have a coffee with your friends tomorrow.

“Not those kind of options…” He sighed and perched himself near your feet at the foot of the bed.

That was a weird answer…what does he mean? Could they change my DNA? Could they turn me into an Alpha.

You had heard of some new sciences like that coming in. The ability to change your DNA genome...

“What other types are there?” you laughed hesitantly.

When he didn’t answer you, It was like the air grew icy and heavy…there’s a reason they kept you chained like a bitch.

There was only one other option....a correctional institution. You felt sick, your hungry belly was replaced with nausea. Your nose sniffled.

“I want to see my mom,” you gulped and moved to slip out of the bed. The medical gown was scratchy against your skin, you started to feel worse, your fingers scrunched up and unravelled. Your body felt dizzy when you stood up to quickly. The doctor attempted to block your way when you peeled back the curtain to many empty beds and a single door with a sign above it...

 “Farewell room.”

No, no, fuck, no! Where’s mom and dad!

You ran at the door and shook at the handle, but it was locked. You couldn’t breathe, you were locked in with the doctor. You couldn’t escape. The floor cleaner and bright lights were clouding your senses, blinding you and burning your nostrils.

You ripped a heavy breath, not thinking it would be so painful after holding it in too long.

I won’t cry, no, no crying!

“Y/N I’m going to need you to calm down,” the doctor informed you setting his hands over your shoulders, you were fast to slap them away. You lowly growled at him and bared your teeth ferally.

Don’t you fucking touch me!

When it clicked at the severe reaction you had made especially to an alpha, you felt instant regret and guilt, you choked on more tear and buried your head into the doctors chest. His heart was beating fast too, but not like your rabbit pounding blood.

“N-no,” she cried, “I want my mommy!”

You felt the doctor soothingly rub his hand over your head and down your back. He hushed you until you were just a whimpering woman.

The door unlocked, and finally…“Y/N…” your mother spoke out to you.

You snapped back around and saw her and your father beside the door. Your father barely came inside, his lips curled in, disappointed, disgusted and silent.

A desperate and hopeful smile came to your face, your hands reached out, “Mom!”

But the older woman just stood back from you...she was keeping distance purposely. The closer you reached and sought her, the more she distanced herself and stood closer to the door.

“M-mom? H-hug me…” you begged, “pl-please mom?”

She sighed and looked away from you, refusing to look you in the eye. Shame.

“Doctor Cavill, your father and I believe it is best if you…go away for sometime,” she clutched her own arms, “…where people can help you.”

You did not see it that way at all, and you just knew she was lying out of her arse. She was getting rid of you...betraying you...disowning you....

“I don’t need to be helped,” you sniffled and smiled, “I just-just need some suppressants.”

“Y/N,” she seethed through her gritted teeth, “Go with the nice nurses.”

“M-mommy, please,” you begged pathetically and got to your knees on the cold tiled floor, “Please don’t do this!”

“STOP!” your mother screamed, “You are making a scene!” she rolled her eyes and turned around to leave, “You will go to ‘Saint Selene’s School For Adolescent Omega.’ We may see you during the summer.” And slammed the door closed.

You flinched at the cracking bang that echoed your ears.

You ran to the door and found it locked, you pounded the window with your fists and screamed out, “D-don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Dad!…M-Mummy!” your parents did not look back as they walked away, abandoning their only child.

Their backs and bodies continued to get smaller and smaller the further they walked. The sight broke your heart and soul. The concept of betrayal could not be clearer. Your breath clouded the glass, your tears slid down and tapped onto the floor, onto your naked feet.

Doctor Cavill’s hand reached out and wrapped around your bicep, trying to tug you back from the door.

“Come on,” he said.

 You shouted, “Let go of me!”

When he did not, you snarled and noticed a lonely pen on the end of a bed frame with a clip board. You grabbed it and jabbed his forearm. The blue ink spattered across his skin while he yelled in pain.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you squealed again and held up the pen with both hands, take a few steps back from the now pissed off Doctor. The sound of the door opening again had your heart rushing.

Mom!?

To your massive disappointment, it was the nurse who was shocked by the scene unfolded. Now you were totally surrounded.

“Put the weapon down!” the beta demanded, holding up her own hands in defence, “Now.”

“Calm,” was the word you heard the doctor say beside your ear, before pressing your back into him, grasping your jaw and finally feeling an incredibly long sting in your neck followed by the unusual flow of liquidised drugs into your body, “calm.”

You were scared, unsure of what was going into your body, your chest thundered with your beating heart until it was like you blinked and everything relaxed. Your body felt instant exhaustion and peace...you snapped back and fell back against his chest.

“Calm...” he whispered, “Calm...”

The last thing you heard...

Calm...

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin and Salvation: Chapter 1 (Sweet)

I don't even know what to say. I started a new fic (haven't abandoned my others don't worry!). I became consumed with the need to bang this one out. My first modern AU! I hope you enjoy/I welcome any feedback!

Chapter 1: Sweet

Fic summary: Azriel works for the mafia under his brother Rhysand, the boss of the family. After Rhys marries Feyre and she has a target painted on her back, he assigns his brothers Cassian and Azriel to guard her two older sisters in case of retaliation from rival families. Azriel begrudgingly accepts the job, but everything changes when he meets brown-eyed, sweet, secretive Elain. He must contend with his unexpected feelings, keep Elain safe, and, above all, avoid letting her into the bloodthirsty world of the mafia.

Chapter summary: Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian meet Feyre's older sisters. Azriel gets to know his new charge. Preview below!

Chapter CW: Descriptions of child abuse, particularly of foster children. Discussions of parent death. Mention of substance abuse/addiction.

Azriel opened the passenger door of his car with keyless entry and did a quick sweep to make sure no errant weapons were hanging around. When he found the front seat free of knives and pistols he held the door open and gestured to the passenger seat. 

Elain smiled gently and slid onto the seat, buckling the belt as Azriel shut the door and moved around to the driver's side. 

The engine purred to life and Azriel cringed as the car automatically connected to his phone and started playing the audiobook he was in the middle of.

He quickly turned the volume off. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

Elain giggled as Azriel backed out of the garage. “What was that?” She asked. 

He cleared his throat. “A book,” he answered. 

Elain looked at him sidelong. “You like to listen to books?” 

Azriel shrugged. Damn it. Why hadn't something cool been playing for that moment? Like some music? “I do,” he answered truthfully. 

“Me too,” Elain said in response. 

Azriel felt his shoulders relax slightly. 

She smelled so fucking good. 

Stop. Pull yourself together. 

“Direct me?” He asked as they approached the main road. She nodded. “East on the highway.” 

After a minute or so Azriel pulled onto the ramp and merged seamlessly. 

“Have you done this before?” Elain asked him. “Guarded someone?” 

“I have surveilled people plenty. I usually…collect information for Rhysand. But the people I follow do not typically know I'm following them.” 

Elain frowned slightly. “So you're like a spy.” 

Azriel felt a small grin break across his face. 

“Kind of, yes, I suppose.” 

Elain considered and then shrugged. “That sounds much more exciting than my job.” 

“Oh?” Azriel asked, scanning traffic and swinging into the fast lane. “You’re not an assassin or private investigator?” 

Elain snorted lightly. “I work in a plant nursery,” she answered. “But I love it,” she added warmly. “I don't make much, but it's worth it to spend my day surrounded by beauty.” 

God damn she was so fucking sweet.

“That sounds nice,” Azriel responded. And it did. He often wondered what it would feel like to have a normal, peaceful life. To not be surrounded by violence and death. But it was the only life he knew, and it saved him from the poverty and misery he once experienced.

“Do you like plants?” Elain asked him.

“Some,” Azriel answered. “I don't have much experience with gardening, but I actually really enjoy the conservatory at the cultural center.” 

He saw Elain's face light out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, I love it there,” she answered warmly. “It's so peaceful.” 

Azriel hummed in agreement. “Straight still?” He asked. Elain nodded. 

“A few more miles.” 

“I enjoy the bonsai trees,” Azriel continued. “I think I would be suited for caring for them.” 

Elain surveyed him from beside her.

“I think you're right,” she agreed. 

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 73, Part 2

Downstar and Weedfoot are ambushed by… something.

[Image ID: Downstar overlooks a crowd that includes Oilstripe, Lavendertwist, Rabbitjoy, and Paleseed on the left, James, Carnationspeckle, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper on the right. Under all but Downstar, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 3.]

Weedfoot woke up with a sudden, violent gasp. Her memory flashed, blood spasming to catch up to the present. Phantom pain pressed her into the moist grass. Breathe, breathe, breathe. No, not just that, move. Where was Downstar? She had been right next to Weedfoot, the two on their first patrol alone in ages, a flash to the earliest days of RippleClan… where had she gone? What had happened?

The creature. Weedfoot remembered it now. It had come out of nowhere. It was no dog, no wolf or bear or human. Something… thin, hollow, and hungry. Weedfoot grit her teeth so tight she thought her fangs would pierce into her brain. She forced herself up, the memories of claw and tooth sharp against her pelt. 

Weedfoot wanted to be sick. All she saw was blood on the grass, vibrant green turned dull purple in the late evening glow. It splattered along the tall pine trunks and pooled under Weedfoot. The stench of innards and exposed muscle twisted her stomach. But the worst part of it all was Downstar, laying with her back against an oak tree, battle wounds covering her bicolored pelt and a large chunk of flesh missing from her stomach.

“Downstar!” Weedfoot whined, scrambling to her friend and leader. Downstar’s chest shivered slightly. Her paws twitched. Her half-open amber eyes stared hazily at the horrific scene around her. Weedfoot skidded in front of Downstar, keeping her eyes away from her awful wound. Had she already lost a life? If she hadn’t, she was close. But she had five to spare, Weedfoot could get her to the clerics. She would be fine. Yet could she move Downstar with a wound of that severity? 

“I’m here, Downstar,” Weedfoot moaned, setting her paw against Downstar’s bloodied shoulder.

Her paw phased through Downstar’s body.

“She’s already lost one life. It’ll take another before we can heal her, and she’ll still be in danger.” That voice. Weedfoot squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight back the wave of misery and hopelessness that flooded her face. Weedfoot heard that voice whenever her daughter shot out a clever remark or insightful comment. She heard it in her memories, both good and bad.

Puddlespeckle and Applepelt’s spirits stood beside Downstar’s dying form, pelts sparkling and shining onto her bloodstained fur. Weedfoot wasn’t sure she had ever seen her father look so young. She named Puddlewhisper right; she looked just like her grandfather. It had been so long, Weedfoot had almost forgotten the resemblance.

“Not now,” Weedfoot moaned, her whole body shaking in a decisive no. “Please, not yet, Father. Lightningkit and Cobaltkit are still in the nursery. Waspdawn just lost Littlekit, he’s been so strong, he can’t lose me too.”

“Weedfoot,” Applepelt warned, “as someone who cares about you, I’m telling you now, do not look at your body. You don’t deserve to remember yourself like that.” They walked around Weedfoot, pushing her head forward as it instinctually looked back. Weedfoot only caught a glimpse of her own bloody paw, claws splayed out in the heat of battle.

“Applepelt is here to take you to StarClan,” Puddlespeckle explained. “I… wanted to come with for this.” For a moment that disgusted Weedfoot as soon as it passed, excitement sparked through her chest. She would see Ripplefern again. Fennelspot and Burdockstream, Lavenderleaf, Wasppaw, Paleshade… but she would leave so many behind. The dozen different emotions battling for control in her chest fused together into a single clear thought.

Downstar needed help.

“I’ll go,” Weedfoot choked out, backing up, “but not before I save my friend!” She shut her eyes as she spun around Applepelt and ran in the direction of camp. She knew if she saw herself, she would lack the strength to do what needed to be done. She was still RippleClan’s deputy, and she would do her job!

“Let her go, Puddlespeckle,” she heard Applepelt snap behind her. “This will be better.”

As Weedfoot ran home, she noticed a strength in her muscles that had, day by day, left her in recent moons. She felt like she could run across all five Clans without so much as a single pant. Even her fur, translucent as she now saw it to be, looked brighter than it had since Scaleripple’s birth. The world, settling down into a cool summer night, was more alive than ever before. And all Weedfoot had to do to see that was die.

“Oilstripe!” she yowled, voice catching against the trees. “Oilstripe!” She had always wondered what it was like for her former apprentice to see the spirits of StarClan as they roamed their old home. How she hated to be one of them that day.

Weedfoot could see the shipwreck now. The decaying wood looked golden in the setting sun, with huge shadows of spruces, elders, and rowans dappling the rocky walls of camp. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt had somehow beaten Weedfoot to camp, but they sat on the Resting Place, watching quietly. Leathermask sat guard outside of camp, unflinching to Weedfoot’s call. Weedfoot slowed at the crest of the trees when Oilstripe hurried out of camp, wild eyes meeting Weedfoot’s. Weedfoot’s soul broke just a bit more; how often did Oilstripe have to learn of a Clanmate’s death in such a way? If there had been any better option, Weedfoot would have spared her dear friend the pain. But instead she squared her shoulders as Oilstripe bolted at her.

“No no no,” Oilstripe cried as she reached her old mentor, legs weakening with every frantic step.

“Stop,” Weedfoot barked. Oilstripe gasped, paws digging into the sand and dirt. “Oilstripe, I’m sorry, but you need to listen to me right now. You can’t save me, but you can save Downstar.”

“How—” Oilstripe whined. She panted so hard, she could barely speak.

“Just listen, please,” Weedfoot begged. “I need you to find Spikecrash, Rapidleaf, and Honeybuzz. It has to be Honeybuzz, not Troutpool, do you understand? I know your daughter, she won’t be able to focus on Downstar. Get those three cats and have them bring a long pelt and whatever medicine Honeybuzz needs to treat a gaping wound. Only bring those three, nod if you understand.” Oilstripe swallowed hard, but nodded. “Do not let anyone else come with you, especially not my family. Have the patrol follow you, and I’ll lead you to Downstar. Oilstripe, when I tell you to stop, you stop. Don’t go any further, just send the patrol forward and tell them to cover my body. Don’t look at me, I am begging you, Oilstripe, do not look. Do you understand?” Oilstripe nodded once more, paws twitching, ready to run. “Now go!” Oilstripe was off like lightning, scrambling back into camp with a yowl. Leathermask jumped as she soared past him. He followed the heartbroken molly back into camp.

Applepelt and Puddlespeckle were silent witnesses as Weedfoot led her Clan to Downstar’s rescue. She could see them, sitting, watching, waiting for Weedfoot to acknowledge them once more as she made sure Honeybuzz could save Downstar’s remaining lives. Weedfoot ignored her father as Oilstripe begged Weedfoot for answers that she could not provide. She stayed silent as Rapidleaf and Honeybuzz hurried Downstar to camp. She watched over RippleClan’s camp as one by one, everyone she cared for crumbled under the news.

As midnight crept closer, Weedfoot found herself tucked into the shadows of the medicine den, staring at Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw as they sat around Downstar. Bandages wrapped around Downstar’s belly, clean moss stuffed into the healing wound. Cobwebs concealed Downstar’s smaller scars, turning her calico. Weedfoot stared into her dear friend’s tired eyes and prayed once more that she could offer some comfort. Firelight dapped the den floor.

“If you don’t rest, you’ll lose three lives rather than two,” Honeybuzz muttered, testing the tightness of Downstar’s bandages. 

“Regardless, I need to gather the Clan,” Downstar sighed. “They need to hear from me before midnight.”

“That won’t be hard,” Weevilpaw gulped, glancing out of the den. “I don’t think anyone’s asleep tonight.”

“I promise, Downstar,” Troutpool said, touching her leader’s nose, “we’ll try a few rituals to figure out what attacked you. As soon as the half-moon comes around again, we’ll petition StarClan for more information.”

“Help me to the edge of the den,” Downstar said softly. “Weevilpaw… call the Clan for me.” Weevilpaw stiffened, nodding solemnly. Honeybuzz and Troutpool got on either side of Downstar, trying to scoop her nest with her. With Downstar providing what strength she still possessed, the three inched the tortoiseshell leader close to the entrance of the medicine den. 

“Downstar’s calling a Clan meeting,” Weevilpaw called hesitantly into the camp clearing. “Over here.” All of RippleClan sat before the shipwreck, sharing tongues and caterwauls. There was no body to sit vigil for; the look in Spikecrash’s eyes when she insisted on immediate burial silenced even the most curious of cats. Weedfoot’s family all sat together, piled on one another in shared misery. James was almost hidden under his sons and daughters. Even Scaleripple joined in, hiding his head in Waspdawn’s pelt. Lightningkit, Cobaltkit, and Waspdawn’s litter snuggled in where they could, their youth providing no hiding place for their grief. Stormkit, Yellowkit, and Sandkit seemed so… hollow. Oh why did Weedfoot have to be the one to bring such despair to their eyes? When did her family get so, so big?

All of RippleClan slowly made their way around the medicine den. Weedfoot sat beside Downstar, midnight cold sinking through her ghostly fur with every stare that passed through her. Oilstripe could not look away from her, gathered tightly beside Carnationspeckle, Rattlepelt, Tallowpaw, and Slushpaw. It was all Weedfoot could do to nod at her old beloved apprentice.

“What happened, Downstar?” James asked. Weedfoot had never heard such monotone from her mate before. 

“I wish I could explain it,” Downstar sighed, groaning as she shifted to look over her Clan. “My memory is foggy. I barely saw it coming. Whatever attacked us did so with brutal efficiency.”

“Was it another Clan?” Paleseed whined. “Downstar, what did they do to my mother?” Downstar flinched at Paleseed’s cry. Darkkick crept from the back of the crowd, and Paleseed pressed her head into the older molly’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to scare you,” Downstar said. “However… from what I remember, I don’t believe what attacked us was any living creature.”

“A Spirit of Shadow,” Trumpetspore yowled from somewhere in the back of the crowd. “It was a Spirit of Shadow! Not again! Not again!” Trumpetspore’s panic swept through the crowd. Estherfern’s kits seemed half their age as they pressed into their mother, whimpering. Currentpaw wailed as Elmsprout wrapped her tail over him. Rattlepelt slunk behind Carnationspeckle. 

“Please, everyone, we can’t panic,” Downstar called. She groaned as her stomach twitched, strained from the effort of yowling. “There’s a lot we don’t know about what happened, or why. We’ll take every precaution when leaving camp until we have this situation sorted. I will not abandon you. StarClan will not abandon us. We will figure out what happened, drive out this threat, and recover, as we always do.” The cooler heads in the crowd groomed the fur of their terrified kin. The Clan’s voices died down as Downstar took a few slow breaths.

“This Clan would not exist without Weedfoot,” Downstar sighed. “She and Paleshade were the spark that gave us life. When we formed RippleClan, we all wanted her to be our leader. She would have led us well. But she asked me to take my nine lives instead so she could grieve for her first mate and find her footing once again. I regret all the times my mind turned my heart against her, and I will always see her as my sister. It will be many moons before another deputy can match her in skill and wisdom.” Had Downstar always thought that of Weedfoot? Some moons it felt like the pair were always disagreeing on how to run the Clan. But that wasn’t the truth of their relationship, was it? “Despite that, we need a new deputy.”

“We’ve never had to do this before,” Carnationspeckle muttered. “We don’t have to follow the traditions of the other Clans. We can pick a new deputy in the morning, Downstar. It… it might be better.”

“I don’t want to wait long,” Downstar said, glancing at her wound. “I’ll be recovering for the rest of the moon, and the Gathering is in two nights. We need a deputy. And I know who I want at my side.” Downstar cleared her throat. “I say these words before StarClan, so that Weedfoot’s spirit may hear my words and approve my choice. The next deputy of RippleClan will be Oilstripe.” Weedfoot rose, the weight in her heart relaxing ever so slightly. Oilstripe stayed sitting, blinking rapidly.

“But…” Oilstripe gulped. “You don’t like me. You never have.”

“There’s a lot that we disagree on,” Downstar admitted, bowing her head. “Yet your intelligence and compassion have won you many friends. You are a major part of this Clan, and I trust you to lead it when I’m gone.” Oilstripe stared at Weedfoot, mouth half open in utter surprise.

“She’s right,” Weedfoot purred. She stood in front of Oilstripe, the soft glow of her transparent body shining against Oilstripe’s ginger fur. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to follow in my pawsteps.” Sparkling light danced behind Oilstripe. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt waited at the edge of camp, sitting patiently. Weedfoot blinked and found herself standing beside the pair just as the Clan began to chant Oilstripe’s name.

“Let’s make this official,” Applepelt chirped. She touched her nose to Weedfoot’s. Warmth flooded Weedfoot. Her pelt exploded in white light. Stardust sprinkled her body in vibrant patterns. Her blue eyes burned bright. Suddenly, she knew. She knew what happened to her. She knew what attacked her, where it came from, and what lurked over RippleClan’s head.

“We have to tell them,” Weedfoot said, turning back to her family.

“You can’t,” Puddlespeckle said softly. Just as quickly as the future unraveled before her, so too did Puddlespeckle’s meaning. She couldn’t. She literally, physically, could not tell them.

“Will they be alright?” Weedfoot gulped, forcing herself to look away.

“Life goes on,” Puddlespeckle promised. He gently nosed Weedfoot’s forehead. “You were a good daughter to have, Weedfoot. Now come along. It’s time to go.”

(Weedfoot: 122, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Oilstripe: 77, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(James: 149, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Paleseed: 39, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Trumpetspore: 34, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Downstar speak with Weevilpaw, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw. Honeybuzz says "We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”]

---

“Anchovy! Anchovypaw, wake up.” Anchovypaw opened his eye half-way. Weevilpaw stared at him, nose inches from his face. He smacked her muzzle back with a groan.

“I’m tired, Weevilpaw,” he groaned, rolling over. “Can we do this later?”

“Downstar wants to talk to us,” Weevilpaw whispered. “She’s with Honeybuzz. Come on, it’s important!” Anchovypaw dragged his head up. Wolfpaw was already awake, fidgeting outside the apprentice’s den. The crest of the sun peeked over the sea, turning the sky purple. The sleeping forms of the other apprentices rose and fell with the soft pattern of the waves. Anchovypaw groaned as he got out of his cozy nest, warm from his body heat, and snuck around Billowpaw and Ravenpaw. Weevilpaw jumped over Silverpaw and followed her friend out.

It was the morning after the Gathering, and everyone was exhausted. Halibutdusk limped back to the warrior’s den, finally relieved from guard duty as Oilstripe guided Clammask and Drumtooth out on patrol. The purple light of the early dawn unnerved Anchovypaw that morning, even though he had seen that sunrise a hundred times. Weevilpaw led him and Wolfpaw across camp to the leader’s den. Anchovypaw could see Downstar’s eyes gleaming from inside her sheltered nest. Honeybuzz sat beside her, fiddling with a cicada wing under his paw. While the bandages around Downstar’s torso were no longer so blood-stained, black ichor still stained them like a hole in the world. Anchovypaw focused on his leader’s face instead.

“What’s wrong?” Wolfpaw asked.

“I spoke with the other clerics last night,” Honeybuzz explained, waving the trio closer. “I may have an explanation for your abilities.”

“Finally,” Weevilpaw groaned, kneading the leather-lined floor. “I knew we weren’t the first. I just knew it. Why else would there be so many stories of powerful cats?”

“There’s a reason those cats come in threes,” Honeybuzz sighed. Anchovypaw moved closer, almost forgetting to breathe. “We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”

“Intense peril?” Anchovypaw said, no longer able to keep his gaze from Downstar’s wound. “Like now?”

“We’ve come across two Spirits of Shadow in the span of three moons,” Downstar sighed. “Think about your powers. They are designed in just such a way to prove effective against spirits and their powers. You see their influence. You predict their moves. You can even trap them in place.” Downstar pulled a paw over her muzzle. 

“I don’t like using apprentices in this way, but I need all three of you on alert and ready to help. You may be all that stands between our safety and another of our kin leaving us, just like Weedfoot did.”

(Weevilpaw: 8, female, cleric apprentive, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Anchovypaw: 8, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 8, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Honeybuzz: 21, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

[robo-milky]

Sometimes, you feel like you’re being watched.

The burning gaze of a person unknown, drilling its way into your back, staring into your very soul. It used to make you uneasy, wary, even. Yet you tried your very best not to show it.

Turning around discreetly around every corner, peeking from the corner of your eye. Stealing glances at shadowed nooks and crannies, trying to pinpoint the source of your unease. Remarkably, you’ve never seen anyone, even after all this time.

Not even the smallest glimpse of fabric, or a wayward footprint. Sighing to yourself, you resume your journey. Most stalkers tend to get conceited by now. They think they’re ever so sly, that they let down their guard. They get a little cocky, if to put in it such crude terms.

Unfortunately this stalker seems to be rather skilled in their profession. Despite your annoyance, you find yourself grudgingly admiring the ability of your wonderful little “friend”. Musing to yourself, you hum softly to yourself. A sweet little tune from the depths of your memory. You’ve heard it, somewhere before, but the memory seems determined to evade you.

“À la claire fontaine m'en allant promener

J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle que je m'y suis baignée.”

(As I was walking by the clear fountain,

I found the water so lovely I had to bathe.)

You pause, struggling to remember the next line. Only to hear another voice humming softly along with you. The same sweet little tune in a deep, passionate voice.

“ (refrain) Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai”

((refrain) I've loved you for so long, I will never forget you)

The voice had the richness of fine wine, yet there was something gravelly about it. It intoxicated you, creeping deep into your heart. A siren’s voice, you mused. A wonderful sound that was simply music to your ears.

You could curl up right next to the singer and listen forever, until your body rotted away. It was mesmerising, enchanting… spiriting you away from the present like a prince in a fairy tale.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you felt a warm breath, waft against the nape of your neck. Before a pair of soft lips pressed against it, gentle and tender. A kiss, like one a gentleman would yield towards a fine lady.

A soft chuckle was laughed as your skin flushed pink, before another kiss was pressed into your skin. But like the meek light from a sunset, the sensation was gone all too soon.

A weight pressed into your shoulder. Turning around, you see a flash of blonde, before those soft, gentle lips press against yours, capturing them in a lovely kiss. A greedy one, where he took every last bit of your air from your lungs like some depraved beast.

Yet the feeling… wasn’t totally unpleasant.

In the middle of it all, you catch a raspy whisper, words spoken ever so softly, just for your ears alone.

“Happy Birthday, Cloche dear.”

Anyways happy birthday from the mage of misery🫶 wishing you a great one!!!!

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash]

UWAHHHHHH CERUUUUUUU WHAT IS THIS- CLOCHE SINGING ONLY FOR ROOK TO CONTINUE AT THE RIGHT TIME??? THE PECKS BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT?? AND THE FACT THAT THEY FINALLY KISS ON THE LIPS- I’M GONNA LOSE IT- Oof this feels like watching those really long TV shows and finally getting to watch the will-they-won’t-they couple finally get together 😭😭

Ig it’s canon now that Cloche has French nursery songs drilled into her head from Canadian elementary- they pop in there at the worst times (as someone who was once in a half French immersion school- the war flashbacks are real-) But in all seriousness I just love this detail??? I will never not be salty that we were robbed of Rook singing more

Ofc Rook goes out of his way to tail Cloche instead of going to the party like normal people 😩 What is so special that it just can’t be shown to others??? Show off PDA, cowardly huntsman- assert dominance like an alpha— 👁️👁️ /j

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write this!! This will now forever be my brainrot- Like holy— I can feel this in my soul, hear it, see it-

Schedule’s tight now but one day….

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 1

Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

When your moms weren’t woken up by your fussing before the sun came up, they knew something was off. When they were instead woken up by the sun streaming in around the curtains, they knew something was very wrong. 

“Tobs, wake up,” Christen urges, nudging her. 

Tobin groans slightly before opening her eyes, “shit, it’s late. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep in and leave you with the baby.”

“I just woke up,” Christen replies, slightly worried, “I haven’t heard anything from her.”

With this, both of your moms quickly get up and exit the room. They hurry to your nursery, which had been set up after you began regressing. 

Opening the door, they find you still asleep in your crib. You’re on your tummy, your head facing the door. Your moms can see the trail of snot running from your nose, and the flush covering your cheeks- no doubt from a fever. 

They walk closer, Christen reaching out a gentle hand to press to your forehead, grimacing when she feels the heat radiating off of you. 

—-

You wake up, feeling a hand touching you. As your sleepy haze fades, you become aware of how yucky you feel. Tears quickly fill your eyes, flooding out and rolling down your cheeks. 

You look up to see that it was Mama’s hand, and she quickly reaches down to scoop you up. You’re limp in her arms, allowing her to pull you out of your crib and rest you against her body. She sways gently as you slump against her, your heavy head resting on her shoulder as your thumb drifts towards your mouth. 

At this point, Mommy steps in. You hadn’t noticed her before, too focused on your own misery and the comfort your Mama gave. But now, Mommy blocks your thumb from entering your mouth, causing you to whine. 

She quickly shushes you, using the sleeve of her pajama shirt to wipe your nose before depositing a pacifier in your mouth. Now that you had your binky, you were much more content. 

“My poor sweet little baby,” Mama coos, pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

You just whimper in response, too young to understand what she’s saying and far too young to respond. You knew that you were feeling very sicky, you knew that Mama was warm and your binky was nice. You knew that Mama and Mommy would take care of everything else. You don't need to be a big girl and take care of yourself. You can just be the tiny baby that you are. 

You’re suddenly pulled away from your Mama’s warmth, whimpers falling from your lips instantly. You’re settled onto the comfy mat of your changing table, but you start wiggling. You want your moms to hold you, and you do your best to make this clear. 

Your Mommy moves to stand near your head, her hands resting on either side of your face. She uses her thumbs to gently wipe away the tear tracks and traces the fever flush. She talks softly to you, but you don’t understand the words. Instead, you simply stare through hazy eyes, still suckling your paci. 

While Mommy has your attention, Mama quickly changes you into a clean diaper and slides a shirt over your head. It’s oversized, clearly one of your moms’ sleep shirts. But it’s comfortable and makes for easy diaper changes, so it’s your outfit for the day. 

Tobin notices the way your eyes become even more unfocused and your nose scrunches up. For a second, she simply coos, thinking you’re pulling a face to show your disdain. But then she notices the way your mouth goes slack around your pacifier and your breath starts hitching. 

You’re very uncomfortable, you have a really big itch in your nosie that you want out. You know what comes next, you have the itchy and then a big “atchoo” sound makes it all go away. But this time, there’s no big “atchoo,” there’s not even a little one. Your nosie is stuck holding onto the big tickle. 

You try and whine to alert your moms to your discomfort, but it’s almost impossible. You finally manage to make a sound, an “ah” sound that hitches and wavers with your breath. Your eyes are mostly closed, tears building up in the corners, but your nosie still won’t make the loud noise to get rid of the tickle. 

Your moms finally take pity on you after watching you struggle for almost a minute and taking plenty of pictures and short videos. Mama scoops you back up into her arms, your chin resting on her shoulder. She can feel the way your chest moves with your hitching breath against her. She rubs your back in gentle circles, which feels nice but doesn’t help the itchy. 

Mommy comes up quickly behind Mama, resting one hand on the side of your face. You lean into it slightly, allowing Mommy to use her other hand to pull the pacifier out of your lax mouth. She quickly sets it down, replacing it with a handful of tissues that she uses to wipe your nose. 

Finally, the movement from the tissues causes your nosie to make the biggest “atchoo” sound ever, which makes Mama hold you tighter. But the itchy tickle is still there, and your breath starts making that weird bouncy feeling again. Your eyelids shut tightly, your Mommy readjusting her hold on the tissues to better cover your mouth and nose. 

Your Mama supports you with one hand under your bum, the other hand moving to support the back of your head as the itchy takes full control. She feels your head tip back into her hand before snapping forward as you release another big, sick sneezie into Mommy’s hand. 

But this was probably the itchiest nosie ever, cause it still was tickly after two huge “achoos.” Your Mama moves her hand from the back of your head, rubbing up and down your back as you sniffle and hitch. Your Mommy quickly folds the tissues, encircling your nosie with a nice clean, dry part. 

As your head starts to fall back with the hitches, your Mama quickly moves to support it again. Her warm hand holds your head for you, allowing you to focus fully on the itchy feeling that’s taken over your face. 

Your little lungs fill fully with air, before you loudly release this germy sneezie. Mommy pinches the tissues, tugging gently to collect all of your snot. 

This process repeats several more times. Your moms support you the whole time, making sure your itchy, snotty nosie and your big “atchoo” sneezies are kept wrapped up in clean tissues. 

Your nosie is still itchy, but less so. Your moms wait, watching as you scrunch and wiggle your nose. You can’t decide if another sneezie is stuck inside. It appears to be done for now, but they both know it won’t last for long. 

It seems like their sweet little girl has a horribly big head cold, but that’s why they were there. They would be sure to wipe your runny nose constantly and cuddle you through every sneeze, because they would always take care of you. You wouldn’t have to release a helpless sneeze into anything but a nice tissue that one of your moms held for you. You were helpless at caring for yourself, but that’s what moms are for.