#he was forced into a caretaker roll likely way way too young

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

ok so I just relistened to Alright(ep23) and I wanna talk about something that I don't think I've seen anyone else talk about even when the ep first came out.(but I'm antisocial so idk)

SO during The Doodler back story bit we find out that when Ron was being drowned it for some reason was invested in Ron's safety(probably because of Stud??)and I think I saw some people misinterpret this scene as The Doodler drowning Willy to protect Ron when in reality it was The Doodler waiting for Willy to kill Ron so it could drag him through the portal and send him away from Willy. Which is fucking wild. It also was then tethered to Willy against it's will because it was planning on being attached to Ron. And considering that Willy got a lot of his power from The Doodler, I have to think this relationship might've been non consensual?? The Doodler doesn't/didn't want Willy. It actively didn't like him and wanted to safe Ron in death. But Willy somehow managed to siphon off power from it and I don't think it would've wanted to give Willy any power or protection.

The point is someone should write an au where Ron goes to the forgotten realms instead of Willy and is a kid warlock with his chaos god best friend

[kooktrash]

omg hi i was the one who sent in the spooky request 🫣 here it is again bby HAHA 💘:

could u please do yandere!neighbor taehyung x innocent reader where he helps her around the house a lot (chores, homework, etc) just so he can have an snoop around her things and spy on her. reader is also very innocent/naive and tae takes advantage of this by slowly corrupting her.

one day tae steals a spare key and makes it a nightly thing to visit reader and touch her while she’s sleeping. usually, he’s slick about it and even drugs her on some nights to make sure she stays asleep. until one day, reader wakes up in the middle of the night to tae in between her legs and u know the drill hehe the rest is up really up to u dear author 🖤✨

sickening love | kim taehyung

drabble: SMUT, DUBCON, SOMNOPHILIA [do not read if uncomfortable], oral sex [f recieving], manipulation, yandere Taehyung, breaks into y/n’s house, neighbor Tae, obsessed Tae, naive y/n, gaslighting, etc.

It had started with a knock at first. A simple and gorgeous smile on his face as he introduced himself to his new neighbor. Of course you hadn’t known that he was infatuated the day he saw you moving in exactly two months ago. It had been a slow, calculated first meeting. He had dressed in his best clothes, styled his hair more than usual, wore expensive perfume. All just to say hello to you. Now, he’s not sure if he could ever live without you. Who else would protect your nativity and corrupt your innocence? Surely not any of this so-called close friends of yours. The ones he’d grind his teeth at when one would sleep over and he’d have to leave. He snaked his way into your life by doing small favors for you. He learned your schedule early on, always making sure you ride in the elevator together every morning and afternoon. Of course you didn’t know he had no reason to do any of that. He does keep secrets from you but once you’re together he’ll be honest.

“I can’t do any more Tae, please can we take a break?” You asked one evening as he helped you with your homework. You were still in college, young and 21, too trusting that’s for sure. He was older but not by much, even if he acted like your caretaker and you let him. Why? Because you didn’t know how to be independent and Taehyung loved that. It was your first time living alone. Your life had always been sheltered not only by your parents but by friends too. You’d always had a sense of innocence around you. Too trusting because nobody in your life had ever done anything to deliberately hurt you and Taehyung would do the same. Taehyung basically forced himself into your everyday life and you hadn’t even realized it. Your friends told you it was strange but maybe you were naive and too trusting. Never being on your own you haven’t learned how to truly be independent so it was easy to depend on Taehyung, ultimately a stranger.

“You’re almost done sweetie, I can get you a little snack if you’d like,” he said with a little smile as he pet your head already moving to stand up. You were finishing up an exam on your laptop that you had been stalling till the last minute. Taehyung was the one who offered to help you since he’d taken the exact same quiz when he took the class in college. In truth though, he didn’t even attend the same university that you did when he was in school. He came back from the kitchen holding a plate of cut fruit and a glass of water. You reached for the fork but he got to it before you could and fed a piece to you. It went on like this until you finished your exam.

He helped you clear the table, a part of him realizing how domestic this all was and how he wanted to make you his already. But you’re like a kitten, if he gets too close so soon you’ll run away. He had to take baby steps so you could trust him.

A light buzzing came from your phone and before he could look at the caller you were standing up with phone in hand, “Jungkook!”

He rolled his eyes as you excused yourself to your room to answer and before he knew it he was going to follow. His ear pressed against the door trying to decipher the muffling but his blood was beginning to boil, thrumming in his eardrums. He could practically picture you right now. Smile on your face, giggling about something your friend said. The same friend who’s in love with you and wants to make sure you stay away from Taehyung. His jaw clenched as he backed away from the door, he couldn’t have you catch him eavesdropping. He walked past by your door, looking down at your entrance table, a silver shining object catching his eye.

He looked back to your bedroom door still hearing you talk and his feet took him toward the trinket bowl where your keys sat. Next to your main keychain was a single silver key and as he held up comparing it to your other key he noticed it was for the apartment. Without another thought he dropped the key into his pocket getting away from the table and sitting down to wait for you. It was a rush, his hands shaking at the thought circling his mind. He has only been able to be at your apartment when you’re in class.

He would steal a package of yours or watch a new piece of furniture come and he’d convince you to let him help you when you were gone. He’d take his time looking at all your photos, looking in your drawers, in your bathroom, anything. He’d smell your scented shampoos and wrap your blanket around him taking in your sweet smell. He will admit that he might’ve taken a pair or two of your underwear but it was the clean ones. He still too nervous to go through your hamper. Now that he’s got the key he could do so much more than just snoop while you’re not home.

“Sorry, Jungkook wanted to know if he was picking me up tomorrow and then I got distracted,” you said as you came out, completely unaware of what Taehyung just did. He smiled, “It’s alright but it’s getting late, maybe I should head home now.”

It happened two nights after. Taehyung had been hanging out with you when he was off work and crushed a few tablets of Melatonin into your water. He didn’t want you drugged up, but melatonin would surely knock you out. He mixed the water with a flavor packet and you hadn’t tasted the sleeping supplements.

Taehyung let out a shaky breath at the image in front of him. Your sleeping figured curled up under the sheets in a deep slumber. He pulled the sheets back immediately biting back a groan at the sight. You slept in only a t-shirt and panties, the t-short was twisted and your panties barely covered anything. You stirred at the sudden exposure, but didn’t wake up.

He took a seat at the edge of the bed. He shouldn’t do this, right? Yet even as he thought that his hand was gliding along your soft leg, goosebumps raising on your skin that he tried to soothe. “I have to,” he whispered to himself thinking back to all those times he dreamt about this. Of course you were awake in those dreams but this would have to do. Things weren’t going as quickly as he hoped and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have you, that way your friends such as Jungkook won’t steal you from him. He spread your legs carefully.

His eyes fell shut as he placed gentle kisses on your thigh, your heat coming closer and closer. He took a deep inhale smelling hints of your body wash. He had stolen a small amount one day and washed his own body with it. Without your knowledge, your body was reacting to his proximity. He could practically see the smell wet patch forming on your underwear and it’s only then that he realized how close he had actually gotten. His nose brushed against the thin material of underwear.

“You won’t be mad, right?” he teased the lips of your cunt through the fabric, his thumb running over your clit, “You have to understand baby, I need this. I’ve been so patient and you don’t even realize it.”

Taehyung did not hesitate to pull your underwear down, eyes locking at the glistening pushy. You had already been wet and he wondered if you were having a wet dream, maybe about him. Lord knows he’s had too many with you as the star.

He dipped tongue inside to taste you, not being able to hold back. A moan slipped past his lips as he sunk his tongue between your pussy lips, nose bumping your clit before lapping up some of the slick. His eyes locked on your face, almost daring you to wake up but you simply withered in his hold. His hands held your thighs apart giving himself more room between your legs.

He knew you’d be sweet. Everything about you was just so sweet, even your essence and it drove him mad, clearly. He’d never done anything like this, he never put this much effort into someone but you were different. You were destined to be his and that thought alone was enough for his hardened member to brush against the mattress.

He was getting ahead of himself, his middle finger massaged your outer folds, lathering his digit with your slick, running it up your slit and poking at your clit. It was dark and he wished he could your pretty cunt but he knew he can’t turn the light on. In a stroke downward his fingers dipped into the ring of nerves at your entrance, already feeling so tight. He had wetness dribbling down his chin along with a little bit of drool and he couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to bring you so much pleasure, so he let his finger sink in. The puffs of your tight walls hugged his finger snugly and he was groaning at the feel. He looked down at your clit before bringing his lips down onto it, sucking gently as if it was a nipple all while his finger began to thrust in and out.

You began to stir in your sleep but he was too far gone. He needed to taste your release and it had him sinking his ring finger in as well. Your brows scrunched together and he watched your face contort in confusion or pleasure while his tongue flicked over your clit, moving it around with his probing.

“Ah,” you whined but he didn’t stop. Not even when your hand was flying down toward your heat wondering what was happening. Your hand landed in his hair and his eyes rolled. Yes, touch me too, he thought as he sped up his ministrations.

Your eyes widened, sleep draining from your body as you released a loud moan. You looked down at the soft locks you were holding, mouth drawing open in bewilderment, “Tae? W—what, ngh, Wait…”

He didn’t, he kept going feeling the pulse of your walls meaning you were close. You tugged on his hair to get him to stop but the pull only turned him on even more. Your head dropped back, “Please, sto—“

He pulled away, crawling up your body bringing his fingers to his mouth for a taste. He stopped when he was facing you, your noses nearly brushing and he watched your eyes water. “What are you do—“ his lips pressed against yours and you blamed it on the stimulation he’d given you that had your mouth opening to the kiss.

“Shh, don’t you trust me?” He asked peppering your face with gentle kisses, “Aren’t we friends?”

“Yes, but how’d you—Tae!” He sucked along your neck wanting to create love bites on your skin. His hands groped your sides, “Don’t you like me? Don’t you think I’m handsome?”

You thought about it for a second. Of course he was handsome but he’s your friend. He went on kissing down your exposed collarbone, “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“You left your door unlocked and I came to tell you,” he pulled at the hem of your shirt, you weren’t wearing a bra and he wanted to kiss the mounds of your breasts, “But you looked in pain, and I don’t like seeing you in pain. Doesn’t it feel good? Getting the release you need baby?”

“I—“ his hand was cupping your breasts through your shirt hiking it up letting the cold hit your exposed cunt, “It does feel good but, aren’t we friends?”

“Friends can help each other sweetie,” he was yanking your shirt up, “Aren’t I helping you right now? Look at your body, it’s so wet and your nipples are so stiff baby, I just wanted to help.”

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he said pulling away to look down at your pretty body. He’s only seen glimpses of it through your cracked door when you change or bathe but it was beautiful, and all his.”

“You don’t want my help?” He made a pout letting his hands cadres your shaking thighs, “Your body wants my help, won’t you let me help? I’ll make you feel so good.”

Your eyes locked with his and he was bucking his hips seeking friction against his jeans. You were so damn beautiful and innocent and naive and perfect for him. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t need him. You did need him but you never expected him to do this. But, he was making you feel good and you had been tense lately. Maybe he sensed it and thought he should help? He helps you with everything else anyway. “Baby?” He called out, his patience running thin wanting to move things along. You nodded and it made his heart skip a beat, “Words honey, use your words.”

“Will you be gentle?” You asked and he audibly moaned, his eyes closing, yes finally.

“Of course,” he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “See? And after, you’ll help me feel good too right? That’s what best friends do.”

You never did this with Jungkook but maybe it’s because Taehyung’s older. Maybe this is how more matured friendships do. You nodded in agreement, “I’ll make you feel good.”

“Fuck, baby you’re so perfect,” he let his head fall against your chest, rubbing his face between your breasts with his mouth drawn open, “Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping. I’ll buy you whatever you want because you’re such a good girl. Aren’t you baby? Aren’t you my good girl?”

You nodded and he smiled, he looked like a predator as he began to slide down your legs to continue what he’d done when you were asleep.

::.

ok fr thanks for sending this in. I’ve been wanting to do a yandere Tae but my minds been going blank lately

[bellysoupset]

burpy jonah at an important formal event who feels really nauseous and has to suffer through a bunch of unbearable small talk and shit but gets taken care of by leo when he gets home?

I got caught up with the bantering, so this might be long. Bonus Leo caretaker at the end!

---------

"Kill me now" Jonah said under his breath, while Wendy smiled brightly to the waiter, grabbing two different champagne flutes.

"And be without a date?" she whispered back, passing him a glass, "no way."

Jonah let out a minor snort, before shifting on his seat again. He had been really excited when they had bought the tickets to this medical congress, a month before.

Now, however, it had all changed. It was out of town and since students had a discount in accommodations, they had chosen to stay over the night between the two days of event, driving home on the second instead of making four unnecessary trips.

Jonah regretted everything. He regretted having lunch at the little cottage-turned-hotel where they had stayed at, he regretted RSVP to the closing night dinner, he regretted the overly fussy suit he had brought, he regretted the fact that they had closed their room tab when they left for the dinner, so he really had no choice but to endure the event until they were ready to leave and then drive home for two more hours-

"Hey," Wendy turned to look at him, "we can leave. You're clearly not feeling well..."

She was being nice, but Jonah knew the last thing she wanted to do was leave. An event like this only happened every two years and Wendy was vibrating out of her skin with every new researcher they met. It wasn't fair they both would have to leave just because he had overdone it during lunch.

"No," he shook his head, not bothering to try and force a smile, "go mingle, we can stay until the time we agreed."

"Are you sure-"

"Wendy get the hell out of my face," Jonah glared at her, only for his friend to roll her eyes fondly and get up, all smiley and unbothered.

He watched as she got tangled in a group of young interns from a different university, Wendy the social butterfly.

"Dr. Banks," a man sat on Wendy's now empty seat and Jonah turned to look at him, immediately regretting it as the turn made his formal pants squeeze his belly even more.

"It's Jonah Banks," he corrected, "I'm not a doctor yet..." a bubble went up his throat and he took a small sip of champagne to push it down, "and you are?"

"Dr. Denis Hopkins-" the old man offered a hand eagerly, "I read your paper on gender affirmative care."

Jonah's cheeks heated up. He was so used to being approached because of his surname, it was a nice surprise to have someone actually read anything he had written.

Except he didn't get to really enjoy the conversation. As Dr. Hopkins went on and on about his research group, Jon's stomach churned uneasily and he quickly was forced to stifle a burp every other word that he tried to speak.

Eventually it was to no avail. Swallowing the gas back down was making him nauseous and the champagne he was sipping to aid was certainly doing the opposite of what it should. Jonah shook his head, covering his lips with a fist, "I'm sorry- I'm sorry Dr. Hopkins, I'm afraid I have to leave early, but could- Can I get your email? I'd love to cont-" a burp pressed on the base of his throat and he swallowed it back down, feeling nausea flood his senses, "continue this conversation."

Something in the hasty manner he was moving was enough to cue the older man in, because he nodded, quickly grabbing his business card and handing it to Jon, who could barely say goodbye as he sprinted off.

He figured the abrupt ending was more polite than hurling all over the guy's shoes.

As he wiggled past the people, he paid no mind to where Wendy was. The car keys were with him, so Jonah all but marched to the parking lot, unlocking the car and immediately sitting down.

The parking lot was empty and he could hear the music coming from the conference building, laughter and chatter too. He unbuttoned his pants, letting out a sigh of relief when it stopped squeezing his stomach and leaned out of the passenger door, staring at the ground.

The leaning position pushed up a burp and this time Jonah didn't even bother trying to swallow it back down. He felt queasy enough that he knew if he didn't let it up he was going to revisiting his lunch very soon.

It tasted awful, smelled worse and Jonah recoiled, gagging against his hand as he leaned back and pushed down the zipper of his pants a bit more. It still felt like it was squeezing him.

He wanted to be home. He wanted Leo.

As if hearing him somehow, his phone buzzed and Jonah startled, the small jump causing hiccups to start. Big jostling hiccups that made his chest ache almost as much as the rotten burps.

There was a text, but not from Leo. It was Wendy.

Wen: where did u go??

He groaned and forced up another burp, trying to get a sliver of relief before typing back, "parking lot, not feeling well."

As soon as he hit sent, Jonah dropped the phone, vaguely hearing as it fell under his seat instead of the driver's seat as he had aimed, bracing against his knees as a thick belch slipped past his lips, bringing with it the taste of his lunch and a lot more spit than he could swallow.

He spat on the gravel and then repulsion ran through him, causing another heave and more spit to come up. Jonah hung awkwardly, legs spread apart and a small puddle of spit between his feet, his stomach still hurting and howling as gas swirled inside.

"Aw, Jon, what the hell..." Wendy's voice cut through his misery, "have you thrown up?"

"NoUUPE-" he burped the end of the word and groaned, rubbing his chest, "can we go home?"

"Of course," Wendy crouched down next to his knee, taking the car keys out of his hand, "do you need me to get a bag?"

"No," he shook his head, "I can handle, my stomach just really hurts."

"We'll be home soon," she promised, squeezing his thigh and getting up from the crouched down position. He felt awful for ruining her night. Jonah leaned back against the passenger seat, slamming the door closed and turned to look at his best friend as she entered the driver's side and immediately removed her strappy heels.

"I'm sorry Dee-"

"Oh don't stress about it, it was getting boring anyway," Wendy shrugged, throwing the heels on the backseat, "besides, half the fun was to be here with you. It's not fun if you're not enjoying yourself, Jon."

"I did yesterday," he pointed out, leaning forward and resting his forehead on the dashboard of the car, pressing on his bloated stomach, "and this morning."

"Then that's good enough," she shut the door and started the car, "what is this anyway? Food poisoning from lunch? I told you that puree looked sk-"

He gagged, burping towards his feet once more, "shut up, Wendy."

"Sorry," she said meekly, although he could hear a hint of amusement in her words, "tell me if you need me to pull over."

"Uhm," he grumbled, fingers digging on his stomach, "I'm just really bloated and crampy... Dr. Hopkins cornered me, did you see?"

"I did," Wendy's voice sparked up, eager to chat, "what did he want?"

"For me to work on his research project I-" Jonah groaned as a gurgle went up his throat, bringing with it more salty spit, "fuck I do need a bag."

"Shit, hold on, hold on-" he heard as she turned on the emergency stop alert and pulled over the car, pushing his door open.

"Okay, give me a second to find-"

Jonah interrupted her by retching, bringing up little more than a tiny stream of vomit and two big belches, that made his throat hurt. He squeezed the side of his stomach, pushing his fingers in and working over a painful spot, but his own belly rub was doing very little to help. In fact, Jon was pretty sure he was just making himself hurt more.

"Are you done?" Wendy asked, "I got you a bag."

"I don't think-" Jonah swallowed in, "it's just so much trapped gas making me nauseous, I'm not really sick-"

"Yeah, so you keep saying," Wendy rolled her eyes, pushing a big shopping bag in his hands, "Hang in there."

They spent the next two hours with Jonah hunched over, panting inside the bag, here and there bringing up a little dribble of vomit and spit, mostly just some empty, painful burps, punctuated by hiccups.

He was exhausted by the time Wendy entered his street. His stomach hurt like hell and his throat felt raw and irritated, his head pounding from all the empty heaving... And he felt dizzy from leaning forward in a moving car. In the past fifteen minutes his nausea had kicked up a notch, aided by the forced motion sickness of being folded in half, and Jonah was struggling to keep the food inside of him.

He really didn't want to throw up now, when they were so close to his house...

Wendy parked the car inside of the parking lot and turned to him, "Okay Jon, let me just put my heels back on-"

"No," he shook his head, "no, you don't have to stay. Leo's home."

"Are you sure?" Wendy squinted, "he could've gone back to the dorms, you didn't spend the night here ye-"

"No, he's home- He's always home now. He lives here," even sick and in pain, butterflies joined the mess in his belly. Wendy's eyebrows shot up and she slapped his chest.

"You prick, you never tell me anything!" she pushed his arm, "get out of my car."

Jonah chuckled, clutching the bag still as he pushed the door open, "we can talk about it tomorrow-"

"Get out, I'm not talking with you," Wendy had a childish pout on, but the annoyance was nonexistent in her voice, "go away."

"Bye Dee," Jonah snorted, "I'll text you tomorrow... And sorry again-"

"Bye, asshole," she gave him the tongue, squinting at him, "really, text me tomorrow."

"Will do," Jonah rubbed a hand over his face. He could feel there was a perpetual frown tattooed between his brows and although the nausea had eased a little bit now that he wasn't in a moving car anymore, the stomachache was still very present.

He ditched the bag inside a trashcan and then got into the elevator.

It was around eleven, so part of him didn't expect Leo to be up and Jonah let out a relieved sigh when he pushed the front door opened and met the living room lights still on.

"Who's there?!" Leo sounded terrified, his voice coming from the bedroom and Jonah muffled a chuckle.

"It's me-" he stopped himself short as his boyfriend came out of the room carrying the night lamp as a weapon, wearing just socks and Jon's own big sweater, "Leo, what the fuck-"

"Oh it's you," he lowered the lamp, clutching his chest with one hand, "why are you home? You said you'd only get here way later..."

Jonah shrugged, once again undoing his pants and ditching the blazer jacket on top of the couch, "wasn't feeling well."

"Oh..." Leo raised an eyebrow, putting the lamp on top of the coffee table as he joined Jon on the couch, "what's wrong? Do you have a fever? Did Wendy say-"

"No," Jonah shook his head, grabbing the front of Leo's sweater and forcing him to sit down on the couch, promptly leaning forward so he could melt against his boyfriend, "no, lunch messed with me. My stomach hurts."

"Aww, Jon," Leo sighed, but he sounded relieved, "did you throw up?"

"No- I mean yeah, a little, but it's not that, it's just-" he winced, taking Leo's hand and planting it on his stomach, "it's bloated and awful."

"Oh," Leo's cheeks burned, but he didn't pull back, instead moving on the couch so they could get more comfortable, Jonah's back pressing against his chest, "aw, babe, what the hell did you eat? It sounds upset," he sighed, fingers trailing the side of his boyfriend's belly.

"Some garbage," Jonah said sourly, "legit homemade cosine my ass."

Leo let out an amused giggle, planting a kiss on his temple, "don't you wanna get into bed and out of this tux?"

"Uhm, yeah, but-" Jonah turned his head, muffling a burp against Leo's arm, "hurts to move."

"Okay, in a little bit," Leo sighed, kissing the side of his head again, as his fingers pressed gently over Jonah's belly button, pushing up another airy burp, "how was the congress?"

"Nice..." his voice trailed off as Leo pressed his palm on his side, working on circles like Jon had attempted to do before, but in a much more successful fashion. He sat up straight, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle a string of thick, wet belches.

"Your poor tummy," Leo cooed in a sympathetic manner, pulling him back against him, "hold on, let me-" he pressed on the opposite side, doing the same thing and Jonah couldn't even muffle the chest rattling burp that followed.

He gasped, clutching his chest, "fuck, Leo-"

"It's okay, let it up," Leo sounded unbothered, pressing the heel of his hand on either side of his belly, so they could meet at the middle, "hopefully it's just gas upsetting it."

"Uhm, hopefully," Jonah grumbled, although he wasn't so sure. His mouth still tasted awful from the little puking spell from earlier, "were you gonna hit an intruder with a lamp?"

"No," Leo squeaked, sounding offended and pressing a kiss on Jonah's shoulder, as he gently cupped his lower belly and pressed on it, "I was gonna throw the lamp at them to distract them and then body tackle the intruder."

"So-" Jonah burped towards his lap, coughing as some disgusting spit flooded his mouth. He swallowed it back down, "getting yourself killed was the plan."

Leo snorted, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest that Jon could feel perfectly with his back pressed to it, "I love the version of me that lives inside of your head and is 5'2 and harmless."

Jonah rolled his eyes, moving Leo's hand from his lower belly and back up, where the ache was bigger, "not 5'2..." he mumbled, wincing when his boyfriend's fingers dug in, "you're just not a viol-" he rushed to cup his mouth, as a thick belch turned wet at the end, "ew... you're just not violent, that's all."

"We played football together," Leo scoffed, "you've seen me tackle grown men," Leo brought up his free hand to Jonah's forehead, "you're all clammy, Jon."

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing Leo's hand deeper into his stomach, "just one more and we can go to bed... I- I can feel it-"

"Here?" Leo pushed his hand in, rubbing in circles. Jonah groaned as the pressure made him taste his lunch and he swallowed in air, trying to force up the big belch he could feel sitting in his gut, "here?"

As Leo's hand moved to the center of his belly, a huge belch came up along with a splash of vomit, too quickly for Jon to even swallow down. He coughed, gagging and burping again, forcing himself to open his eyes, "aw..." Jonah's voice was scratchy and fading from all the acid he had been burping, "fuck, Leo, your arm, I'm so-"

"Shut up," Leo snapped, slowly pulling back, "does your tummy feel better?"

"Ugh..." Jonah grimaced, letting out a small burp, "I think so... I think I just need to shower and take some medicine... Fuck, that was gross, I'm sorry."

Leo rolled his eyes, pushing them apart and offering his clean hand so Jonah could get up from the couch, "it's fine, it's my boyfriend's sweater, not mine."

[skele-bunny]

I enjoyed your kit Special and Cowbell talk. What were they like when their other brothers started coming around? >w< I bet they were excited big brothers

YIPPEE YIPPEE I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY 2 FAVS RRAAA

They were curious little things, but yes so fucking excited! Once again, timeline fuckery, I think there's a lot of time between each Emeritus. When Primo came around, this was their first exposure to a human child. Their tails couldn't stop wagging as they tucked their heads in the bassinet and scenting over this newborn human. Super protective and although they were young themselves, and raised as humans, they still had ghoul instincts. That "this is a frail thing. We need to be cautious."

Few times they snapped their jaw at Nihil because they didn't register that humans don't have scents and their ghoul minds couldn't find a scent for Nihil. It calmed down though, and they were just head over heels for their new brother. Constantly found cuddled up. Bluebell loved babysitting until Primo would start crying, then Phil would step in and just scoop! His baby.

Secondo was no different, lots of nuzzle bumps but now that they were older, their instincts grew, too. Absentmindedly grooming him and Sister just "????" When Secondo comes back with his hair sticking up everywhere and smelling like straight ghoul. First time she seen it she took so many pictures as Bluebell was half awake, just his tongue slowly pressed against Secondo's head wnsjkd They started taking baby duty at night as they were super nocturnal at the time, and had no mind keeping Second in his bassinet in their room

Now Terzo, "Terzi" at the time, was a whole new game. They had a little sister, not only did she look different but she just... In general was different. Her hair mimicked Cowbell's from the amount of curls and fluff, and was just the happiest baby ever where as Primo seemed to not like anything and Secondo was a big crier.

Their grooming habits were still there but not as much, and they had started scruffing. However, they knew to only do it when she was older and by her clothes to not harm the little human. The family had to quickly adapt to getting a toddler handheld over by the collar of her onesie. She never minded though, just a big ass smile and babbling

When they all got older, Special unfortunately started getting more rare to come around as he was now full force in his work assigned by Sister. Cowbell wasn't assigned yet, so he got the chance to bond more. They still adored Phil and cherished the times he came around.

Cowbell was not spared from Primo's rolled up newspaper, book bonks, or sandel throws.... No one was. But, still the biggest cuddle bug with Primo. Always loved helping him garden or practice wether with study cards or sudden pop quizzes. Primo was his primary caretaker when Special wasn't around, they both just clicked perfectly. They kept each other in check and on task! When Primo was a young lad still, he tried mimicking his big brothers purrs. Sometimes he absentmindedly still does in his sleep when Bell purrs. No one has the heart to tell Primo he sounds like a broken lawnmower

He and Secondo were the absolute closest, however. Secondo was the one that started "Cowbell" instead of Bluebell. Loved listening to his brother read aloud his studies and just laying his head in Secondo's lap to be pet as he'd work silently. During this time, Bell still had very poor social skills so Secondo was his voice to many conversations. When Secondo would get overwhelmed with his studies, he went straight to Bell and just needed to be held. So, they'd sit and cuddle until Secondo felt okay enough to try again

Now, Terzo? Him and Special were like no other. Even from a young age he'd find his way to Special's office. "YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT MRS. CRESSIBLE SAID TO SISTER MARY TODAY IN CLASS!!!" and Phil was all about it, love hearing his brother blabber on for hours while he did his homework. Phil was the first one Terzo came out to, who helped him change the wardrobe, tell his family, and even start looking into medically transitioning. Special had to help with his shots for a while as he was too nervous but got into the habit quickly! Even had Phil help pick out a surgeon for top surgery! They're still little gossip pals.

"Guess what Omega said to me."

"Oh fuck, tell me! Also, you need to know what I seen Secondo doing—"

They love their brothers so much, and they love them just as much back! Species difference be gone, these fuckers were a happy family.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Whumptober Day 17: Hanging by a Threat

Prompt: Reluctant Caretaker

Summary: Alpha-17 is not good with kids. Somehow he still ends up in this position...

[I figured the Alphas Series clones had to have dealt with scenarios where they had to handle young cadets and sometimes tubies if extraordinary circumstances called for it. And maybe Alpha-17 likes 99 too much to say no when the older clone shows up at his quarters with a baby in his arms. They gotta look out for their own, especially when the Kaminoans are looking out for any kind of fault in their products...]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

At the end of the day if anyone asked (which he doubted they would if they knew what was good for them), Alpha-17 had no idea what 99 had been thinking when he handed him the sickly little welp currently bundled between his right peck and his triceps. It's not like he'd ever shown any interest in hand rearing any of Prime's unwanted bastards, much like how the man himself had left them to their over-glorified fates.

One might even assume 99 had finally lost it,when he'd shown up to Alpha's private quarters in the Alpha Series barracks, looking all sorts of haggard while carefully placed the little tubie where it currently limply lay. It wasn't likely that the old clone had lost his mind, and more likely that he was simply tired from running himself ragged doing whatever had left him looking so disheveled.

"Something is going through the nursery." The janitorial clone had explained with a tremble in his usually calm voice. That placid face of his lined with both age that had crept up on him too soon, and concern that weighted heavily on his hunched shoulders. "We've had to move the little ones somewhere else until the entire wing is scrubbed down, but there's no space for this one..."

"Seems it's too late for that..." He noted the dry lips, flush of the babe's cheeks, nose and ears, and the overall lack of energy the tubie displayed. Sickness had already sunk its claws deep into this child he'd been made to hold.

"With a little care he should pull through... Just..." 99 fidgeted uncomfortably "Just needs somewhere safe where the Kaminiise won't see the signs..."

It made no sense to bring the tubie here then.

The Alpha Series barracks were not fit for a youngling, so bustling with chaotic energy they often were. Even sequestered into 17's quarters the tiny thing wouldn't be able to find any peace and quiet. Not with all the sparring sessions, shouting matches, and sheer amount of testosterone and energy distributed through high-strung clones that couldn't give a single kark what the galaxy threw their way.

Actually, come to think of it, 99 had picked somewhere the Long-Necks wouldn't dare ever look for a tubie. Their frail-bodied creators had no love for the Alpha Series clones, and maybe they even felt a smidge of fear and apprehension when dealing with them.

A wise reaction considering Alpha-17 and his brothers would like nothing more than to wring the neck of every cloner that got in their nerves. Which was basically every single one of them.

And the disrespectful trainers as well.

"Please... Just for a few hours..." 99 pleaded, giving him the saddest tooka eyes he could muster. It always worked. Alpha-17 couldn't ever say no to his ori'vod.

"Alright..."

The tubie was listless so it didn't really give him any trouble. Even so, the much larger and more muscular clone couldn't help but feel a little nervous holding something so comparatively small and fragile. One might even suggest he was afraid he might break the little welp.

Preposterous slander. He was afraid of no such thing. Just didn't like how damn limp the thing was. Yeah that's it, definitely...

Forced to sit on his bunk with nothing to do but stare at the sleeping babe, Alpha-17 couldn't help but grumble in irritation. He hated sitting idle. It made him restless. But he couldn't just put the kid down and expect it not to roll over and crack its little skull open the moment he looked away.

Too many cadets died because of their unpredictable childishness.

99 always wept for each life lost. Each kih'vod taken away before they even had a chance to see their first sunrise. And 17 wasn't about to let his ori'vod cry because he'd been careless with the tubie he'd put in his care.

But the boredom was not easy to deal with. It reminded him of the quiet moments in between teaching the CCs. Those excruciating moments where he wasn't entirely sure if anything he tried to impart on those terrible little di'kuts was well received enough that the brats wouldn't immediately die on deployment.

Not so much because he cared (he did care but it didn't keep him up at night), but because he hated wasting breath only to be met with ungrateful indifference.

Silence didn't feel natural. It's why he liked the challenge of training the loudest of the bunch. Cody had been one of his favourite students for that reason alone. His clever and unimaginably batshit little vod'ika.

Last he heard the asshole was off punching and kicking droids with Kenobi at the lead. Gotten real close those two even. 17 wondered how long it'd take his vod'ika to make the red-head Jedi go gray.

Whimper...

Spine immediately going tense, jaw clamping shut and eyes growing wide, 17 glanced down at the little bundled babe in his arms. His distaste for the quiet melted away at the prospect of the tubie descending into a fit of crying. Silence and stillness was not nearly as torturous as the sound of a baby's restless cries.

With how its little face was all scrunched up in clear discomfort, restless cries were indeed a very big possibility. Especially with how quickly the soft whimpering whines were gradually growing in volume.

Alpha-17 did not know how to deal with a upset babies.

"Do not." He hissed between his teeth, wincing when that just seemed to make the welp cry out in distress. How did 99 look forward to dealing with these pathetic little creatures? "Desist."

No dice. The little brat was full on screaming now. Making 17's ears ring and his heart-rate increase enough that it felt like the damn organ might burst out of his rib cage.

How did one sooth a crying baby?

He'd been told rocking was not ideal, as young children of this age group were prone to injuring their neck easily. The larger clone could try to be gentle, but that really wasn't something he was good at.

Singing maybe? He'd heard 99 sing to the tubies in the nursery before... But Alpha-17 was NOT a singer. His voice too rough to even attempt some of the more flowery verses 99 seemed to know by heart. It wouldn't sound right.

Maybe... Maybe he could...

Without any options left to consider, the large clone cleared his throat and began to hum to the tune of Vode An.

A song forbidden to the average clones's ears. Too sacred for mere cattle, as Jango Fett put it.

Only ever sang softly to Boba who was the child of a Mandalorian and not an unlovable soldier like them. Not seen as an abomination.

To hell with that. He knew the words. He knew the tune. He knew the false hope it gave to those who secretly sang it in their sleeping pods. And it worked.

The whimpering and wailing died down. The young one's face relaxed as his eyes fluttered open. Eyes that slowly crept up to stare at Alpha-17 like it was the first time the little pup had actually seen him.

Maybe it was. Babies weren't exactly known for having superb vision. Perhaps the tubie in his arms had only just reached a point where he could actually use those dark little peepers to gauge his surroundings. And now they were focused entirely on him.

There was something to those little beady dark eyes...

He couldn't place it exactly but he knew this little cadet would be something special one day. Mostly because this odd little spark was the same one he'd seen in both Fordo's and Cody eyes. And Force gods knew how much of a bitch both Fordo and Cody were to deal with.

"I knew I'd made a good choice when I came to you..."

Alpha-17 didn't startle. He simply glanced towards the door to acknowledge the arrival of 99. His expression soured considerably when he saw the tubie the other was carrying in his arms.

"No." He huffed, unwilling to take another baby in for the night. One was enough trouble already.

"Rest assured I'm not dropping off another little one... I just thought 5555 would feel a little more comfortable if I brought 0408 along with me while I checked up on you both..." 99 reassured with a lop-sided smile. "They're Tube-Twins you see... This is the first time they've been separated."

"Uh... And they got decanted? The Long-Necks usually don't decant twins unless the newest batches are nothing but slim pickings..." 17 noted apathetically. It was a grim reality they'd all come to accept, no matter how angry it made any of the older vode.

The Kaminiise got to run the show however they liked. Didn't matter if their clients weren't fond of their tactics. It especially didn't matter if their products hated them all the more for it too. It was their facilities after all...

"They were lucky." 99 conceded as he gently placed his tiny burden on Alpha-17's bunk, before freeing the man himself of his own burden and placing the little one near his brother. "Very very lucky... I feel like they'll be something special some day."

"Hm... That one definitely will be a handful..." He noted as he stared at 5555, those tiny dark eyes still peering up at him almost curiously. He didn't hold his gaze long, instead turning to stare at his twin and smiling a toothless drooly smile. "Might even get to be an ARc one day..."

"Wouldn't that be something?" 99 hummed at the thought.

"Hm... Yeah..." 17 agreed as he got up off his bunk to stretch. His body had never quite recovered, and the stiffness would definitely hinder him more and more as he aged, but that (in his opinion at least) was no excuse for him to grow soft. "Guess I'll have to keep my ear out for a 5555 in the not so distant future... Hope Cody gets him. Karking kick-happy bastard needs to be kept on his toes..."

"Missing your vod'ika that much?" 99 chuckled.

"Kark no. Brat was a nightmare to train, him and his batchers from hell..." 17 grimaced. "I swear they intended to make my life miserable all through out their training."

99 couldn't contain his laughter.

The Alpha Series in turn couldn't help flick his older brother on the nose for his troubles. The old clone was lucky he was one of very few people on this Force-forsaken planet he could tolerate.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23)

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, the United States is overtaken by religious fanatics, and Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival. When he's discovered to be fertile, he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter I. Breeding Stock

Bucky hasn’t been sober for close going on three months. That’s the best he can guess, leastways. Alcohol is forbidden to people like him now, but when the red center conducts selections, there are other drugs to be had—things to keep people like Bucky calm, compliant, and disoriented.

That morning in particular, they dope him up real good. They put him in a room, where he sits and waits while the interested parties walk by the door, some of them stopping long enough to suggest that they're seriously considering him, others giving little more than a dismissive sneer when they see the notations in his file. Most of them are commanders of various rankings, with a few civilian alphas who've drawn from the lottery smattered in—to make it seem fair.

A few hours pass this way, until there are less and less commanders trickling by. The door to Bucky's room gets shut, and he tries to wade through his befuddled thoughts to decide if he's actually disappointed or not, at once again not being chosen. Maybe. No. Yes.

The door opens back up, and in walk two men. One Bucky recognizes. He’s Brock, one of the guardians here; the people who’re in charge of making sure that Bucky and the other vessels don’t escape, or try to hurt themselves.

The other man is a stranger, but still identifiable in several ways. He's in full military dress uniform, for one, his suit jacket bearing the epaulette and military insignia of a high-ranking commander. Then there's the mandatory patch on his citizenry armband, which marks him as alpha.

Not that that's necessary. His scent and size alone would be enough for Bucky to tell what he is. The commander is tall and broad, has a beard, looks to be in his thirties. The fit of his clothing is impeccable and shows off a large and well-honed body. He's strong-jawed, wide-shouldered, slim-hipped; a textbook alpha.

"This is him," Brock says, handing his data tablet over to the commander for review.

The commander gives a cursory scroll through the information. "He's young," he says, eyes flicking up to Bucky and then back to the data pad. "New?"

"No," Brock says, giving Bucky a look that's somewhere between wry and long-suffering. "He's been cycled out once. No offspring produced. Returned for secondary assignment—pending reeducation, that is." His mouth quirks and Bucky gives him his sweetest 'fuck you' smile. Brock rolls his eyes and goes back to lean against the doorjamb, giving the commander an illusion of privacy as he remains with Bucky and makes up his mind on whether he's interested or not.

Bucky squirms in the chair he's been told not to move from, overly aware of the commander's scent and his own body's reaction to it. The red center keeps all its vessels sequestered from alphas as a matter of protocol, so the sudden exposure after months of abstinence has Bucky's mouth watering a little bit, and blood rushing to certain places. It's a natural response of arousal that's difficult for him to stop when he's this doped up. But then again, he's less inclined to be embarrassed about it when his this doped up, too.

Due to a history of violence and a particular skill set that he's managed to demonstrate on a few of the center's caretakers when motivated enough, Bucky gets a cocktail of drugs delivered in a little paper cup each day at breakfast. And there'd been an extra pill, that morning. Probably some sort of Benzo to keep him agreeable for the stream of commanders coming through for selections, maybe even some sort of heat accelerant, if they're hoping to get him knocked up before he can cause any problems that might have Commander Beefcake changing his mind and shipping him back. Bucky wonders if the man can tell, if he can smell the slicking response that's only getting worse the longer they're stuck in this tiny room together. How mortifying.

Or, it would be, but: drugs.

Oh well, Bucky thinks. Fuck it. He’s been living in a world gone fuzzy at the edges ever since he got dragged back from that last escape attempt. He'd caused real damage, that time, so now he’s doped up to keep him pliant and dumb. Manageable. Even without the drugs, the days seem to bleed together, no end in sight tot he hellscape his life has become. What's one more pill in the grand scheme of things?

"What happened at his first placement?" The commander is asking, talking to Brock and not Bucky. "If there were no offspring, why was he returned?"

Bucky arches an eyebrow, but one warning look from Brock convinces him not to open his big mouth. “Aunt Lydia is our director here," Brock says. "She can tell you more than I can."

"And this?" The commander nods disdainfully at Bucky's seated form like he's a half dead houseplant. "Is he drugged or lobotomized?"

Bucky frowns and looks down at himself, wondering if he really seems that stupid.

"Drugged," Brock says, sounding bored.

"Why?"

"Behavioral issues. Kid's ex-resistance."

The commander seems to sharpen with attention at that, and he turns back to look at Bucky with more interest in his eyes than before. "Really?"

Brock snickers. "Yep. Salvaged a couple 'a years ago from the Pennsylvania militia, if you can believe it."

"Militia?"

"What can I say? They were desperate."

Bucky scowls in Brock's direction, prepared to at least try to fling out some sort of insult, but he's cut short by the commander's face popping into view. It blocks his field of vision and startles him more than it should. Goddamn drugs. The commander stands there peering at him thoughtfully. He has kind eyes, Bucky thinks, then immediately feels stupid for thinking it.

“Hello,” the commander says, surprising Bucky by speaking directly to him rather than to Brock. He steps closer and offers his hand. “I’m Commander Rogers. They told me your name is James?"

Bucky gulps, embarrassed by his attraction to the man. And what for? A kind look and a considerate gesture? It’s pathetic how little is needed to make Bucky feel drawn in, these days. “Yeah,” he says stupidly, caught up in the other man’s gaze. “Yeah. I’m ... James.” He reaches to shake the man's offered hand without thinking, then catches himself at the last second.

Commander Rogers stiffens as he realizes his own mistake. He changes course and makes like he was about to offer his scent instead, curling his hand into a loose fist and holding his wrist up higher in the socially acceptable offer of dominance. Bucky doesn't want to, but he knows Brock is watching, so he leans in and scents Commander Rogers' wrist.

“Glad to meet you, James," the commander says softly. Bucky knows that the kindness is just the commander's effort to keep Bucky calm as he takes ownership. Somebody should tell the guy he doesn't have to bother. This isn't Bucky's first rodeo. And besides: drugs. “I’m going to be taking you to my home today," the commander says, tilting his head with an encouraging look. "If that’s alright with you?”

The way he says it like it's some sort of option makes Bucky want to sneer. One look at Brock’s taser, though, is enough to keep him quiet. Bucky hasn’t had a choice in what happens to him in quite some time, now. He knows how this goes. Maybe Commander Rogers is new at his post. They haven't trained all the human decency out of him yet. Oh well. He'll get there.

"Yes," Bucky recites from rote. "May the Lord make me truly worthy.”

For some reason, the response seems to make Commander Rogers uncomfortable. His eyes get tight at the edges, as if he would rather Bucky not have said anything so textbook-religious. But the thought is ridiculous, Bucky decides after a moment of doubt. All of the commanders are true believers, promoted up through the ranks of the Sons of Jacob. That’s how they got to be commanders in the first place. It’s why Bucky and all the other omegas at the red center have been schooled to spit out measured phrases when they’re directly addressed, and to keep their mouths shut when they’re not.

"I think we'll give it a try," Commander Rogers decides, as he turns around and proceeds to act normally once again by completely ignoring Bucky. "What do you need from me?"

“Transfer of custody should only take about a half hour,” Brock is explaining to Commander Rogers as he guides him from the room. "The director will want to have a word."

"Of course."

Two caretakers come in and flank Bucky to either side, herding him along behind Brock and the commander as the two men walk ahead and discuss Bucky like he's not there.

Commander Rogers looks at Bucky in concern when they begin to split at the next hallway. "Where are they taking him?"

"To get tagged," Brock says blithely. "We'll meet back up with them once it's official."

"Ah. Right. I see." Something in the commander's eyes shutters, and he nods and glances one more time at Bucky. "Very good, then." He follows along as Brock ushers him away—ostensibly to the director's office to finalize his acquisition, perhaps celebrate with a brandy or a cigarette or some other indulgence that’s not allowed to people like Bucky.

Meanwhile, the two caretakers bring Bucky into another room, this one with a big machine in it. The machine makes a terribly loud noise when it’s turned on that makes Bucky flinch and start to hyperventilate. He knows what they're about to do to him, so of course he struggles, but rough hands on his shoulders force him down into the restraint chair, and the other caretaker approaches with what looks like a staple gun in hand. Bucky tenses up, tries to get up from the chair, but the straps hold him still.

The caretaker with the gun pauses when he gets a look at Bucky's ear. "Ah, Christ."

"What?"

"He's cut the old one off."

The other worker huffs impatiently. "So? Tag over it."

The man makes a face. "I'm not sure it'll wrap correctly. I mean ... well look at it. It won't work if he's missing the top third of his fuckin' ear." He looks at Bucky in disgust, as if he's the unreasonable one out of the three of them. "Jesus Christ, kid. What the fuck?"

Bucky snarls at him as the second caretaker sighs in exasperation and takes the gun out of the other man's hand to do the job himself. "Left ear, then," he grunts. "And quit using the Lord's name in vain. The Aunts'll write you up for that shit, if they hear it."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hold 'im still for me."

"Stop! Wait, please don't, please, wait, wait—"

He screams when they tag him, half an an inch of metal piercing and wrapping around the upper cartilage of his ear. The drugs don’t do enough to dull that pain.

When Bucky was taken from his last fight as a member of the resistance, he was black-bagged and shoved into a van. On the operating table, they'd pulled the bullet from his leg with a slap to the face instead of anesthesia. And at the processing center, he’d been spit on by people on the street, screamed at for being a blasphemer, a criminal, and a whore.

Now, leaving the red center, he couldn’t be faced with a more opposite greeting. Cameras from the state news service are pointed their way. Flashes go off like they're celebrities walking a red carpet. Citizens who’ve been camped out on the sidewalk cry out to him and Commander Rogers as they make their way over to one of the big, black SUVs idling at the curb.

Everyone’s been waiting for them, Bucky realizes. They’re hopeful, holding hands and praying that soon people—people like Bucky and the Commander—will start making babies again.

Vaguely, Bucky can remember when people used to do this same sort of thing outside of hospitals. Back when his youngest sister had been born: all those people lined up outside the emergency room entrance, praying him and his already-laboring mother through the doors. The excited whispers and cheerful God bless you's! as doctors had ushered them up to the maternity ward.

It'd seemed odd but well-intentioned to Bucky back then, but now it’s plain unsettling. Now there are guns and chain link fences between the people praying and the people being prayed for. Nobody outside the red center seems to care that Bucky’s being escorted to the car by guardians dressed in full tactical gear. Nobody bats an eye at the fact that he’s missing an arm.

Then again, he thinks dazedly as he gets up into the SUV, why should they?

He’s breeding stock after all. You don’t need arms for that.

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[sebacielenthusiast]

REDDIE AS THE NOAH CALHOUN AND ALLIE HAMILTON FROM THE NOTEBOOK:

It was another cold day in the nursing home that richie was sent to be in due to his old age, i mean, time really does fly when you have fun doesn't it.

He made his way down the hallway with his handwritten book stuffed underneath his arm. He was on his way to go read to his husband, eddie kaspbrak, who was situated inside of his mother's home.

You see, he was diagnosed with dementia a few years back which meant he couldn't stay in a nursing home, the doctors recommended him to stay somewhere that would do him some good, and in this case, it was his mother's house.

Richie found himself walking up the hallway to Eddie's room, where he found his caretaker trying to persuade him to go outside. "Come on now, honey. Some fresh air would do you some good."

Richie cleared his throat slightly to make his presence be known and the caretaker turns around and makes her way towards him. "Hello, rich. Im sorry but today is not a good day, he's not feeling up for anything." She whispered, an apologetic tone visible in her voice. Richie nodded, looking down for a few moments before a small voice broke the silence.

"Whos that?" Eddie muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he investigated richie's appearance. The caretaker turned around and walked closer to Eddie as richie lifted his head to meet his lover's eyes.

"This is Richie, he's come to read to you." She clarified. "Read?" He shook his head as if to say no. "No, i dont know.." eddie simply felt too out of place to listen to somebody read today. "Oh come on, hes a very funny man, im sure you'll like him." She attempted to persuade him and it ended up working when eddie looked up and met richie's stare, his eyebrows lifted up a bit and a small grin was on the taller man's face.

Eddie walks towards richie slowly and intertwines their hands, making their way to the conservatory room.

They both sat down across from each other and richie opened his book and placed his glasses on his eyes. "Ahh...alright now, where did we leave off?" Eddie simply looked at him, not saying a word. Richie got the hint, he probably couldn't remember. "Oh yes, it was the night of the carnival." He said, a small smile on his face as he replayed the memory in his mind.

"I was there with my friend's Bill, Ben, and Mike. Meanwhile, you were with your friends." "My friends?.." eddie asked in a curious tone. "Beverly and Stanley, dear." Richie clarified, a soft smile on his face. "June sixth, 1941. We were both seventeen years young."

FLASHBACK

"Little man wins a prize!" The game operator yelled as Bill rolled his eyes. He was playing one of those stupid chance games and actually won, but he won one of those stupidly small teddy bears.

"Damn it!" He exclaimed. "Thank you for playing." The man grinned whilst Bill scoffed. "H-Ha, you're real funny." He groaned and looked over to where Mike, Richie, and Ben were standing off to the side.

"Man, i totally clobbered that thing. Im telling ya' these games are fixed to make you lose.." He complained and Ben snickered, hitting his shoulder playfully. "Man, it's a game of chance. Those things are practically impossible to win." He explained which made him feel a little bit calmer.

They kept making their way towards the bumper cars, where Ben's friends were playing. They all leaned against the fence as they began to observe the other group. There was Stanley, who was bumping into Beverly, who then bumped into a boy with short brown hair and the cutest smile ever.

The mysterious boy giggled when his friends bumped into his car, trying to swerve away from them. His beautiful brown locks were being blown back by the force of the wind whilst his wide, honey eyes were shut.

"Whos this boy with Stan and Bev?" He asked, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as he observed him closer. "His name is Eddie Kaspbrak. He's here for the summer with his family." Ben explained, too busy to keep going with his description as he was staring at Beverly. "From what I've heard, his dad's got more money than god." Mike muttered, looking off into the distance as he smoked a cigarette.

"Hey, Ben!" Beverly exclaimed from where she was playing, whilst ben did a small wave before snatching the plushie out of Bill's hand. "Hi, honey! Won you a prize." He yelled back and Beverly let out a small shriek of excitement. Mike and Bill both laughed at her reaction but Richie was too dead set on figuring more out about the strange yet beautiful boy.

Eddie's car bumper got hit once more which caused him to let out a loud laugh, his hands flying up to push his hair back to avoid getting it in his eyes.

The trio got off of the bumper car's and made their way out of the attraction. Eddie had his arm interlinked with Beverly's as they giggled together and his other arm was interlinked with Stan who was a bit more quiet yet he was listening to their conversation.

"Hey guys, wanna stop for some cotton candy?" Stan asked, a smile plastered on his face and the other two grinned, nodding their heads. "Yeah!" Eddie exclaimed as they made their way towards the stand.

Ben, Richie, Bill, and Mike ran up to the trio, walking beside them.

Beverly let go of Eddie and began to chat with Ben and Stan did the same with Bill and Mike, this left Richie and Eddie last. "I'll pay!" Mike offered and everyone began to thank him, grinning as the cotton candy was being passed around.

Richie walked up to Eddie and looked down at him slightly, due to the fact that Eddie stood at a rough 5'5 whilst Richie was 5'11. "You wanna dance with me?" Richie asked, a foolish love struck grin was stuck on his face.

Eddie looked up at him and smiled playfully, curious as to who he was. "No.." he answered, looking off to the side a bit while he began to twiddle his fingers. "Why not?" Richie asked and Eddie scoffed teasingly. "Because I don't want to." He replied, simple as that.

Beverly interrupted their awkward conversation and tugged on Eddie's arm, causing him to look back. "Hey eds, wanna ride the ferris wheel?" She asked, a huge grin on her face which Eddie reciprocated. Richie truly thought Eddie was perfect.

He had to be an undercover angel sent straight from heaven, because damn was he gorgeous. "I would love too." Eddie answered, grabbing hold of Beverly's hand before looking back at Richie and winking, bumping into him purposefully as they walked off.

Everyone else from the group trailed behind them, except for Richie. He was stuck standing there in disbelief. Nobody had rejected him, ever. He scoffed playfully before turning around and watching Eddie walk off.

"Richie Tozier." Beverly said, walking a bit further with Eddie. "What?" He asked, his mouth full of cotton candy. He turned his head to face her, wanting to understand what she meant. "He works down at the lumberyard with Ben." She elaborates which makes Eddie realize that Beverly was talking about the strange boy.

"Oh.. did you see he was standing like two inches away from my face?!" He whispered in her ear which made her nod slightly. "Yeah, i saw! Thats Richie, though. You know im surprised that he even came over to us, I think he might like you!" She giggled whilst Eddie rolls his eyes with a smirk as he turned his head away.

Richie had finally caught up with the group and was watching Eddie as he mounted the ferris wheel with some random dude who probably had a crush on him. He waiting until the ferris wheel did another round about before running up and jumping onto his specific seat.

"Hey! What the hell, jerk!" Eddie yelled, holding onto the side of the ride for dear life. Richie attempted to wedge his way in between the pair and was successful. "Get off of this! Dont touch me." Eddie kept yelling which only made Richie laugh.

"Hey, what are you doing? You cant do that!" The ride operator yelled at richie, looking up at him with his hands on his hips. "I'll pay you when i get down, Tommy!" Richie yelled back before returning his attention to Eddie.

"Im Richie Tozier." He introduced, sticking a hand out for Eddie to shake. "So?!" He exclaimed, still partially freaking out. "So, it's really nice to meet you." Richie replied, a goofy grin on his face.

"Eddie, who is this guy?" The man asked angrily, pushing Richie's shoulder slightly. "I dont know, Richie Tozier!" Eddie yelled, a sarcastic tone lacing his voice.

"I would really like to take you out." Richie got straight to the point, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulder which the boy immediately threw off. "Hey, jackass! Do you mind?" The man yelled angrily and then the ride abruptly came to a stop.

"You can't sit more than two people in a chair, Tozier!" The operator yelled again and Richie rolled his eyes. "Okay Tommy, alright!" He yelled back before standing up and gripping onto the bar in front of him, taking his legs off of the chair and hanging in the air there.

"Get down, Rich! You're going to kill yourself!" Stanley yelled from the seat below him. "Richie, cut it out." Mike groaned, rubbing his index fingers between the bridge of his nose.

"Now will you go out with me?" Richie asked, grinning wildly at Eddie. "What? No!" The smaller boy said. "No?" Richie replied and Eddie repeated it, getting a bit angry now. "No!" "And why not?" Richie says and Eddie simply crossed his arms over his chest "I dont know, maybe because i don't want to!" Richie scoffed at that.

"Well then, you leave me no other choice." He mutters and then lets one hand go from his grasp on the bar.

Eddie lets out a scream and covers his mouth with both hands which makes Richie chuckle a bit. "Richie, stop fooling around!" Beverly yells out and Ben follows. "Yeah, what in your right mind are you doing?!" He exclaims, worried for his safety.

Richie looks back down at Eddie and begins to speak once more. "Im gonna ask you one more time. Will you, or will you not, go out with me?" He groans, feeling the stretch in his arm. Eddie stays silent for a few more moments in fear which prompts Richie to keep talking.

"God damn, my hand's slipping." He mutters. "Then grab the bar, you idiot!" Bill screams and Richie answers him "Not until he agrees!" He yells back which makes Mike speak up again. "Ah, go out with him, honey!"

Eddie removes his hands from his mouth and meets Richie's eyes. "Okay, fine! I'll go out with you!" He yelped which made Richie keep on teasing him.

"No, dont do me any favors!" He called out which makes Eddie shake his head furiously. "No, i really want too!" And that causes the man beside Eddie to look at him and ask "You do?" Which makes eddie shriek "Yes, i do!"

"Then say it." Richie smirks and Eddie continues glaring at him. "I wanna go out with you!" He says and Richie repeats his answer. "Say it again." Which makes Eddie yell now "I want to go out with you!!" He cries out and Richie finally grabs back onto the bar with both hands.

"All right, all right, we'll go out." He teases, chuckling a bit at how furious the boy underneath him looks. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" He says between gritted teeth.

"That wasn't funny, Richie, you idiot!" Beverly says from below them which makes Eddie look down at her. "No, it's okay! I'll take care of this." He declares before turning back to Richie and lifting up his shirt so he can reach his belt buckle.

"What are you doing?" Richie asks, worriedly. Eddie simply stays silent and keeps unbuckling his pants. "Please dont do that.." Richie mumbles in embarrassment, looking around to see the many people surrounding the ferris wheel.

Eddie ignores him once more and pulls his fly down. "Please dont do that, Eddie." He repeats but the boy tugs his pants down to showcase his colorful boxers.

Richie looks up in embarrassment and Eddie simply sits back with a smirk and his arms crossed, feeling proud of his achievement. "Oh, god." Richie mutters whilst everyone around him begins to laugh.

"You're not so cocky now. Are you?" He snickers and Richie turns his gaze back down to Eddie. "Im gonna get ya' for that, Eds." he mumbles. "Ah, maybe you will, maybe you wont." Eddie manages out between fits of laughter.

CHAPTER TWO:

Richie was walking back from his shift at the lumberyard with his friends Bill, Mike and Ben. They were talking about going to the movies but Mike suddenly stopped, which caused everyone to stop.

"Hey look, isn't that the Kaspbrak boy?" He said and Richie immediately turned to look at him.

He immediately recognized him and began to run up behind Eddie.

Eddie was still unsuspecting so Richie caught up a bit more until they were finally walking side by side.

"Hey, doll. You remember me?" He asked with that same stupid grin from a few nights ago which made Eddie let out a small laugh.

"Yeah, sure. Mister underwear, was it?" He teases which made Richie stammer a bit. "Well, I.." he muttered which prompted Eddie to keep talking.

"How could i possibly forget?" He said before looking forward once more.

Richie chuckled and blocked his pathway by walking backwards infront of him. "Yeah, I wanted to clear that up with you because im really sorry about that."

Eddie simply laughed again and rolled his eyes before returning his gaze to Richie.

"It was a really stupid thing to do. You know, crawl up a ferris wheel to talk to somebody.." he explained and before Eddie could say something, he kept going.

"But i had to be next to you. I was being drawn to you." By now, they both stopped walking and were just staring at each other until Eddie broke the silence with another loud giggle.

"Oh jeez, what a line! You use that on all the boys around here?" He asks, curious as to why Richie had chosen him. "No." The taller boy responded whilst Eddie began to walk again. "Right, and im supposed to believe that? I saw you giving that other boy a look."

"What are you doing tonight?" Richie stopped Eddie once more. "What?" Richie began to drone on once more, boy did he sure love talking. "Or tomorrow night, or this week, or whatever day?"

And Eddie was very confused now. "..Why?" He asked and Richie shrugged with a smile. "Why? Our date." And Eddie simply acted oblivious "What date?"

Richie was the confused one now, walking a bit closer. "You know, the date that you agreed to?" "No.." Eddie said with a smile, his eyebrows raised. "Yes you did! You promised and you swore it." Richie said with a small pout on his face as his eyebrows began to furrow.

Eddie stepped around Richie and started making his way to his car. "Well i guess i've changed my mind." He shrugged and Richie just wont give up, trailing after him again like a lost puppy.

"Look, i know you get some dirty guy coming up to you on the street. You dont know him- you dont know me, But i know me. And when i see something that i like, i gotta have- i love it. I mean, i go crazy for it.."

Eddie was giggling the whole time Richie was talking and paused him. "Okay, what are you talking about?" Richie grinned "Well, im talking about you, sweetcheeks." He says in a tone so full of love.

"Oh wow, you're good." Eddie mocks, still not believing him.

"What?" Richie asks curiously and Eddie repeats it. "You're good." "No, no, you're getting me wrong-" Eddie cuts him off once more. "You're good at playing this love game, you really are! You're fantastic." He teases, crossing his arms as he looks up at the taller male. "Im not, dear." "You really are, im impressed!" He said once more, this time playfully hitting Richie's shoulder.

Richie laughed with him and hunched over a bit and stood up again. "Im not usually like this, im sorry." He chuckles and so does Eddie. "Oh yes you are. I may not be from here, but im not completely dumb." Richie rolls his eyes and gets closer.

"I could be fun if you want?" Which makes Eddie furrow his brows in confusion. Richie continues, "pensive, um.., smart, superstitious, funny, brave. And uh, i could be light on my feet?" He says before beginning to tap dance as a joke which makes Eddie chuckle a lot.

"I could be whatever you want. You just tell me what you want, and I'll be that for you." He says, seriously. Which makes Eddie smile and begin to sway a bit "You're dumb." He concludes, meeting Richie's gaze.

"I could be that."

Eddie shakes his head playfully at the boy's awfully charming attempt to swoon him and skips off to his car whilst his butler opens the door.

"Come on, one date! Whats it gonna hurt?" Richie calls out from where he was standing which makes Eddie turn around to face him from afar.

"Hmm.. I don't think so!" He teases and stands behind the car door.

"Well what can i do to change your mind?" Richie cries out once more.

Eddie shrugs and yells "Guess you'll figure somethin' out!" before stepping into his car and buckling himself in as his butler drives off.

Richie watches as his car drives odd and begins to chuckle to himself. "He really is something, that boy."

___________________________________

A few hours pass by and Richie is walking with ben, on their way to the movies. "You sure he's comin' with her?" He asks nervously and ben smacks his shoulder. "Relax, pal! It's all been set up, Beverly convinced him to meet with us for the late show. He just doesn't know you're taggin along."

They keep walking and finally, the theatre comes into view. Ben points forward and Richie follows his hand, noticing Eddie standing there, talking with Beverly. "Come on!" Ben hollers as he's already jogging up to his girlfriend.

Beverly notices them out of the corner of her eye and turns to the boys quickly. "Oh my goodness, What a coincidence!" She exclaims, looking back at Eddie with a smile who then tugs her aside. "I need to talk to you for a second." Eddie whispers and Bev mumbles "Hes here!" In a happy tone before turning to Richie who was staring at Eddie with that dumb smirk, watching it all play out.

"Eds, you remember Richie, don't you?"

"Yes i remember.." he mutters with a forced smile. Beverly nods and turns Eddie to face Richie, who was standing there with a dumb grin and his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey." Richie greets and Eddie returns it "Hi.." he smiles. He sticks his hand out and waits for Eddie to shake it. "It's nice to see you again." "You too.". When Eddie finally reached for his hand, he noticed their obvious size difference.

Eddie was one of those mama's boys with soft hands whilst Richie had rough, calloused hands from working at the Lumberyard all day.

"You look great." Richie compliments and takes notice of the rising blush on Eddie's cheeks. "Awh, thanks." He replies, looking off awkwardly. "Really, really great." He clarifies and Ben hops in, thankfully.

"You do look great. You look great, rich. And i know i look great. So could we please go see this movie now?" Eddie nods. "After you, dolly." And eddie scoffs playfully, smacking richie's shoulder.

They make it inside the theatre and Richie is obviously bored by it, kicking his feet up on the chair in front of him as he looks for some kind of entertainment.

Finally, his eyes make their way towards Eddie who was shrugging his jacket off. They meet gazes and Eddie smiles, which makes Richie return it.

They both look away at the same time and return to stare at the boring comedy that was playing. Richie gets up and climbs over a few seats to sit right next to Eddie, who was chewing on some popcorn. He was also smirking, but still not moving his gaze from the projector's screen.

Finally, the movie was over and Beverly is skipping towards Ben's car, hopping inside as Ben holds the door open for her. "Why, thank you!" She giggles, leaning back on her seat. Ben walks over to the drivers seat and Richie takes this opportunity to lean closer to Eddie.

"Wanna take a walk with me?" He whispers in eddies ear, who turns to him and nods. "I don't see why not." He whispers back.

"Come on, get in." Ben says, causing the pair to turn towards them. "We're gonna walk." Richie speaks up. "Do you guys love each other?" Ben teases, which makes Richie chuckle and hunch over a bit.

Eddie runs up to bev and she leans into his ear "don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She says with a giggle and a small wink before Eddie nods and spins back around to face Richie. Beverly rolls her eyes playfully and leans in to give Ben a kiss, who was clearly caught off guard.

[jasontoddiefor]

A gift for @thenegoteator :D

It took a Temple to raise a child, and Mace Windu was very much aware of this. However, it did not explain what Ahsoka Tano was doing at his door in the middle of the night. Ahsoka had deep bags under her eyes, which wasn’t too much of a surprise considering the current living arrangements of her lineage. While little Luke and Leia were relatively well-behaved newborns, they were still only a few weeks old. If their human caretakers didn’t wake up at every single little whimper, then the togruta with the superior hearing certainly would.

“Do you want to come inside?” Mace asked, not letting his confusion show. He was used to people coming to his door at the oddest hours.

“If—if I can?” Ahsoka replied as if only now becoming aware of her actions. In this, she reminded Mace of her Grandmaster and the many nights Mace had found Obi-Wan coming to his doorstep during the first months of Anakin’s stay at the Temple.

“My door is always open, Padawan,” Mace said – and watched her wince.

Ah.

So there was the problem.

“Caleb is currently sleeping in my bed as Depa is away,” Mace explained. “So please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily.”

The boy had already had a hellish enough month behind him, he needed all the rest he could get. Even though the war was officially over, enough planets refused to surrender, drawing out the battles until they had nothing but children left to sacrifice. It weighed on Mace’s shoulders, making him wonder whether he wasn’t too old to carry such burdens still.

Ahsoka nodded and followed Mace inside. He couldn’t recall whether Ahsoka had been in his room before, but from the way she eagerly looked around his quarters, taking in the sight of old instruments, books, and holos, he guessed she hadn’t. Well, at one point in their life, every Jedi had set a foot inside Mace’s quarters, so this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

Ahsoka tore herself away from the sight and looked at him with surprise. “I—yes? That would be nice.”

“Then I will make a cup. Do you have any preferences? I believe I even have Obi-Wan’s favorite blend here.”

Mace had no idea whether he had bought it or if Obi-Wan had just left it here from himself when he came over. Knowing the other man, it was likely that the latter was the case. For a man claiming to be so very polite, Obi-Wan could be a right brat.

Mace’s kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and one shelf, two cooking tiles, and an oven. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and preferred to eat in the cafeteria with everyone, frequently taste-tasting what the Initiates had prepared. He selected two uneven cups Depa had made for him when she’d been young from the shelf. Why she had decided to pick up pottery of all hobbies was beside him, but he supposed that she found the motion soothing. Devan did enjoy parkouring through the lower levels and Echuu was quite content playing the guitar to calm himself.

Perhaps Mace should focus less on why all three of his Padawans had decided they wouldn’t follow him into theatre so they could continue to make fun of him. Setting the water to boil, Mace searched through his cabinets until he found Obi-Wan’s favorite blend. The fruity tea was far from the blend he preferred, but Mace prided himself on being a good host. While he waited for the tea to finish steeping, Mace enjoyed the quiet of the night. For all that there were few sounds as dear to him as that of people walking, or in the case of some younglings and few selected Knights, running, down their large hallways, Mace could appreciate the quiet when the world came to rest.

With two finished cups in hand, he returned to the living room, where he found Ahsoka curled up on the sofa, no longer studying his quarters for any hidden secrets.

“Thank you,” she said when she accepted the cup from him. She held it in her hands as if to warm them, letting the steam hit her face. She breathed in once, twice, finding her rhythm again. Mace waited until she’d calmed enough to speak up.

“What brings you to my door, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka flinched and appeared to make herself even smaller as if attempting to vanish. When it became apparent that it didn’t work, that silence hadn’t been what she had sought him out for, she let out a sigh. “You keep calling that.”

“Calling you what?” Mace asked, his brow raised, playing oblivious.

“… Padawan.”

“Are you not? I was under the impression that you had returned to the Temple.”

“I did, but I still left,” Ahsoka replied. “I left and I was convinced that I had to leave and that it was good that I did. I still think I had to leave the Temple behind.”

“Then why are you torn?”

Ahsoka’s hold on her cup tightened and so, perhaps in wise anticipation, she set it on the table and buried her hands in her robes instead, hiding their twitching from view. Mace could trace all her mannerisms to her teachers and couldn’t imagine what it must be like to purposefully rip all those pieces from yourself when they had become so ingrained in your very being. Even Dooku, who’d fallen so far from their beliefs, had been unable to fully rid himself of Yoda’s lessons. Maybe it was for the best. Hope had become a scarce commodity during the war, yet Mace considered the possibility that in a decade, they wouldn’t be imprisoning a Sith anymore.

“But am I still a Padawan? A member of this Order?” Ahsoka asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she shook like the leaves on the trees in the courtyard.

“Has your Master told you anything different?”

Ahsoka paused. “…. No.”

Seeing that realization was settling within her, Mace nodded. “Then you should not doubt him. You are a Jedi, Ahsoka Tano, and you will remain one as long as you live by our tenets.”

That teased a startled laugh from her. “Compassion for all except people who cheat at push-n-pull?”

As if transported back ten years, hearing Anakin say the same, Mace snorted. “The similarities between you and your Master astonish me every time. Yes, Padawan Tano, compassion for all.”

This seemed to calm the youth as she reached for her cup again and emptied it slowly. “It’s good.”

Mace smiled into his own cup. “I’d be insulted if it wasn’t. Obi-Wan forced me to memorize all the steps for making it.”

The then young Knight had been frazzled, and Mace honestly couldn’t tell what it had been about and had forced Mace to learn how to make this tea until he’d more or less collapsed on Mace’s sofa, completely knocked out until morning when Anakin had picked him up.

“He does do that,” Ahsoka agreed. “I think this is the only thing anyone can make reliably now.”

“Sleep-deprived much?” Mace inquired.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I love Luke and Leia dearly, but they are demanding and need a lot of attention.”

That was honestly kinder than Mace would have described newborns at her age.

“There is a reason why we usually don’t have children this young in the Temple,” Mace said. “They are very handful. Do you get enlisted to help very often?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, Obi-Wan, Skyguy, and Padmé got it covered, and I’m mostly just helping out somewhere else.”

She trailed off a little. This, perhaps, was another issue, but one that could be equally easily dealt with.

“Thank you then for going where you are needed,” Mace told her.

Ahsoka blinked. “Huh?”

“You will grow into a specific role someday, Ahsoka, and that needs time. Do not feel as if you need to earn back your place in the Temple. You don’t need to earn yourself a home you have always had. For now, trust me when I say that everyone you’ve helped is glad that you were there. It is an admirable quality to have a sense of where you are needed. Do not see it as being the odd one out.”

This was the hardest lesson to teach and learn, the fact that there was a path out there for you, but that it took time to see where it would lead. Too many of their Padawans now felt utterly lost without the structure the war had provided them with.

“Oh. I guess if you say so.”

“Yes, I do say so,” Mace agreed. Then, eyeing Ahsoka’s empty cup, he added on, “do you want another?”

“No.” Ahsoka yawned. “I think I might best head back.”

“You can also sleep here if you want, and don’t mind Caleb hogging the blanket. I won’t go to bed tonight anyway.”

Ahsoka squinted at him as if attempting to discern whether he was lying. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really—”

“Ahsoka, go to bed.”

Clearly feeling better already, she saluted and, after Mace showed her his bedroom, made herself comfortable in it. She took off her shoes and tossed her robe over a chair before climbing into the bed. Ahsoka had barely laid down when Caleb already turned around to curl around her, clinging like a little monkey. After a moment’s apprehension, she relaxed and was fast asleep. Stealing one last glance at the two Padawan, Mace returned to his living room, looking through the incoming reports.

Hectic as the aftermath of the war was, as much effort as caring for their children was, Mace wouldn’t trade it for a single thing in the world.

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Entrapment - Chapter 8 (Initiation)

Please do not read this fic if this is not your cup of tea. You have been warned, by clicking on Keep Reading means you have understood the warning. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

18 +

Thomas woke up before you to find Storm scratching the door, itching to go out. Thomas took Storm out for a walk. The giant puppy was apprehensive of Tommy but went out with him, his nose discovering numerous new smells. He ran around freely, finding a dirt patch to roll around.

“Storm”, Thomas scolded. His voice did little to nothing to discourage him.

Thomas called Frances, asking her to call the groomers for Storm.

You woke up after a fitful sleep. You got up and looked around for Storm, who was nowhere to be seen. You looked around the room, checking the wardrobe to find something to wear, only to see all your clothes hanging there. You took a much-needed bath and sauntered out.

Frances found you trying to coast your way inside the mansion.

“Good morning, Mrs Shelby. I am Frances, the caretaker of Arrow House,” she approached humbly.

“Errm..” it took you a minute to confirm that no one was behind you. She was talking to you.

“Oh..hi, please call me Y/N,” you added awkwardly.

“As you wish, Miss Y/N”, she replied.

“Just Y/N is fine”, you added politely.

“No, it’s not. You’re the lady of the house, darling,” Thomas added, and you jumped out of your bones. You didn’t even hear him come, fuck that man and his ability to sneak up on people.

“Well, if that’s the case, Frances, call me Y/N,” you added reproachfully.

“Very well, Ma’am, what would you like for Breakfast? I can have our chef whip anything you like,” she asked under the scrutiny of her dangerous boss.

“Oh..ok…I am not hungry right now.” You added nervously.

Thomas stood in the hallway, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Very well, Ma’am. Let me know whenever you get hungry. We can have the chef make anything you desire.” She consoled you and left.

“Good morning Thomas, very fucked up of you to sneak on me”, You added with contempt.

“Good morning, Mrs Shelby”, he replied just to enrage you.

“Fuck you…”

“C’mon, I want you to meet someone” He took hold of your arm, guiding you gently to another room, not quite far away from the master bedroom. He opened the door and greeted a toddler, who was half-asleep. He hugged the toddler, kissing his cheeks.

“Y/N..meet Charlie, Charlie…Y/N, she is your stepmother”, Thomas introduced like it was no big deal while the child excitedly let out a squeal.

You were stunned, to put it mildly. You didn’t even know Thomas had a kid.

“Hello, Charlie…” you said as sweetly, not wanting to let the kid feel the anger you felt towards his father.

“Where is his mother?” you asked.

“Dead…”

“How..?” you enquired.

“She took a bullet that was meant for me.” He added quietly

You stayed silent, discerning Thomas Shelby, a father, A man polar opposite from the one threatening your friends and family, a man who forced you to marry him.

Soon after, the babysitter came and took Charlie for a bath. After they left, you went ballistic.

“Why did you marry me then, just to get another mother for your kid? I am sure you could have found many willing participants. Why me, Thomas, why fucking ruin my life?”

“Why did you even need this one then?” you continued bitterly, your hand over your slightly popped belly.

“It’s my kid. Why wouldn’t I want it?” he questioned you.

“And to answer your question, you were the only one who didn’t care about my money, fuck. You didn’t even care about what I did. You just simply let me be. I had the freedom to be me with you.”

“So, this is what I get for it?” you quizzed.

You turned around to leave the room. Angry at the whole situation, did no one see how fucked up everything was?

Thomas followed you.

“My family is here to meet you,” he told you.

You said nothing. You were in too deep. So much was at stake, the lives of people you love, your unborn child, and the toddler who lost his mother at such a young age.

“They were here yesterday, but you were tired, so I told them to postpone the family meeting”, he continued in his Brummie accent, which you usually found cute but now was infuriating you.

You were led into a room, his hand on your back, guiding you to where everyone was waiting. You noticed quite a few people from yesterday.

“Good morning, everybody. I would like to introduce you to my wife, Y/N Shelby.”

Some of them clapped, some hooted, and some whistled. Thomas raised his hand to order them to quiet down.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I am not changing my name for you, Thomas”, you added offensively, side-eyeing him.

“Darling, this is Polly Gray, she is my aunt, Ada Thorne, my sister, Ben Younger, her husband, Michael Gray, Polly’s son. You’ve met Arthur, John and Finn. They are my brothers. This is Linda, Arthur’s wife, Esme is John’s wife, and Jeremiah Jesus, Danny, Isaiah, Johnny Dogs, and Lizzie Stark are also family.”

You smiled, trying to get through the day; you knew what family meant. They were all gangsters, just like the head of the family.

“Thomas has told us so much about you” Polly approached you. Her hand on yours. You looked over to see Thomas grinning.

“Ada, she is even more beautiful than her pictures, isn’t she?” Polly added.

“She is… so much better than Tommy”, Ada added.

“Pictures?” you asked as you sat with Polly on the sofa. You felt like there was a part of this relationship you never knew. Thomas had painted a different picture about your relationship with this family.

“Thomas has very many pictures of you on his phone. Something I am sure he has never told you.” Polly added carefully, seeing your reaction.

“Definitely not”, you added politely.

“Her dog is a maniac, though”, John added.

“He is just protective”, you added defensively.

“You have a dog?” Ada asked excitedly

“Yeah…” you looked at Thomas to ask where Storm was. You big furry baby, crap, you forgot about him in all this hustle and bustle.

Thomas messaged one of the estate employees to get Storm to the meeting room. There was a knock on the door, and Finn opened the door.

Storm came running inside, all fluffy and cute, running straight towards you, jumping over you, licking your face.

“Hi baby, you smell fresh. Did someone give you a bath?”

Your puppy barked in affirmation.

“I had to call the groomers. I took him out this morning, and he found a dirt patch,” Thomas added shyly.

“Tommy is whipped”, Ada asked, clearly shocked by her brother’s development.

“He is a good dog. I like having him around,” Tommy added.

Storm went over to Thomas and began licking his face. There was a pin drop silence. All the family members see Thomas smile. It was a rare occurrence for them. Tommy Shelby getting licked by a dog was amusing to his family. They rarely saw glimpses of carefree Tommy anymore, so his smile meant a lot to them. Storm returned to you, his head in your lap, his snout nudging your belly. You scratched behind his ears, trying to ground yourself.

You were shoved into a whole new world of gangsters, a tight-knit family of gangsters.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I wish you could write a fic where not-yet-fallen master Dooku takes care of/has a bonding moment with tiny initiate Obi-Wan

(For this)

!!!!! Grown-up Jedi & Tiny Jedi fluff, my favorite thing!! But because I'm a horrible angst gremlin I'd probably write that fic as a flashback Dooku or Obi-Wan has during or after a battle.

Dooku peered down at the small human boy that had latched onto his leg. The youngling must have wandered off from his caretaker, or gotten lost on his way back from somewhere. He sighed and prepared himself to endure the tearful tale that would no doubt follow, but he was surprised to see the child was smiling instead.

“Hi!” the boy said cheerfully, without letting go of Dooku’s leg.

The Master considered the merits of lecturing the boy on attachment, but the teasing would quite likely be lost on one so young and the youngling’s Masters would have to spend the next weeks correcting the erroneous belief that ‘letting go’ was to be practiced very literally. Sighing again, Dooku picked the youngling up. He couldn’t be older than three, and Dooku had no intention of walking to the creche at the pace of those very short legs.

“Hello to you too,” he said a bit surly, somewhat annoyed that he might end up slightlylate to his sparring session with Master Myr. The boy’s smile brightened. Dooku decided to exercise his patience and smiled back. “What might be your name, young one?”

“O-bi-wan,” the boy carefully enunciated. “I’m lost!”

“So I had gathered,” Dooku said, rolling his eyes.

‘O-bi-wan’ giggled, and Dooku got a warm feeling from the Force. He furrowed his brow ever so slightly. There was, he thought as he distractedly listened to the youngling’s babbling, no such thing as happenstance.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Vampire Chris and jake get stranded in the middle of nowhere one night. Maybe a car crash or something. As they walk back the sun starts to rise.

CW: Car crash, bruising, seatbelt burn, vampire whumpee, caretaker turned whumpee

The moment of the crash is gone.

He opens his eyes to the aftermath.

Jake blinks, the world spinning, and his head drops back against the headrest of the driver's seat. The world is still lurching, sickeningly, in circles around him. Something is ticking, the engine maybe, slowly cooling down and shit, at least it's not on fire.

The air bag has a smear of terrible vibrant red against its pillowy white as it slowly deflates, and all he can do is stare at it until he realizes the blood must be his own.

One hand comes up to touch at his forehead, and his fingers come away wet and red, too. What he'd thought was sweat is a head wound, bleeding down one side, tickling his cheekbone and jaw. It stings, a little.

The pain seems distant, somehow, like it's being held at arm's length. As if he's looking at his pain from a distance further than he can close.

"Ch-... Chris, you okay, buddy?" He turns, and the passenger seat is empty. The air bag deployed on that side, but there's no blood.

The door is standing open, dome light still on. It takes a long few moments of staring before he can understand that the door is open because Chris forced it open, closed his hands on the metal and squeezed until it bent beneath his strength and let him out.

Jake's body aches as he shifts forwards, fumbling to unbuckle his seatbelt. All the pain is filtering into his senses, piece by piece as if he can only understand a wound once he sees it.

He can't remember the crash.

They were at a four-way stop, listening to some of the terrible pop music Chris loves about the modern world, and Jake had pulled through. They were laughing at some lyric that Jake had had to explain, that had made the little vampire boy flush a little at the definition.

Then there were headlights blinding him, overtaking everything. Chris had yelled something and Jake had yelled something and then-

The moment is gone.

So is the entire back half of his car.

He turns around with a hiss to stare right out a giant gaping hole where his backseat should be into the cool, clear night.

Parts of his car are strewn haphazardly across the road and the grassy ditch he's come to a stop in. As he looks, he can see the frame of a door, crumbled metal that must be his trunk, a tire. Another tire. The bumper on the ground. Glass and metal everywhere.

The stop signs at the fourway are all standing totally untouched, except for one bent at a hard angle, leaning like a man fighting a strong wind.

The sweater he'd been wearing when he got in the car - removed and tossed carelessly in the backseat to pick up later - is hanging off the bent stop sign.

It's fucking spotlessly clean still.

He blinks.

Blinks some more.

What the fuck?

He'd driven Chris up into the hills to go star-gazing, making the most of Chris's bubbly energy that only comes out at night and his classes being canceled tomorrow because of some issue with the campus water supply. This is countryside up here, with houses miles and miles apart. Remnants of old orchards and homesteads, still kept by the descendants of the men and women who traveled out here. Nobody drives out this way this late. It could be morning before someone finds him.

His phone. He can call for help.

Jake looks around, but his phone is nowhere to be seen. He digs around the footwell, what he can touch of it, and there's nothing. Nothing nothing nothing.

His windshield is shattered, open to the outside, and he wonders if his phone flew out of it. It was on the dash, wasn't it? On Chris's side...

Shit.

It could be anywhere in the grass, and he's a fucking moron who keeps his phone on silent or vibrate 24 hours a day. He'll never hear it out here.

First things first, then.

He settles for trying to open his door.

It's been crunched, just a little. Enough that it won't swing out, and he has to throw his shoulder against it, grunting in pain, again and again until finally it nudges just enough for him to fall onto shattered tiny squares of safety glass on the ground. A water bottle is lying there. It's Dasani.

He hates Dasani water, but it'd been free at the gas station they'd stopped at if he bought a bag of chips, so...

Oh, right. His car is full of fucking gasoline.

He groans, scrambling away from the vehicle, trying to remember what a safe distance will be if his car catches on fire or fucking explodes in the middle of the night. At least if it explodes it'll get someone's attention, right?

Shit, he's going to throw up.

Jake lays there, waiting for his stomach to settle, and then crawls again. He makes it up to the road, to the rough asphalt and the gravel that lines the side. The little pebbles sting his palms, rub dirt and dust into the cuts, but he ignores it.

He makes it to the road, twenty feet or so from his car, and then... then he just lays down.

"Chris..." He can barely think. Where has the little vampire gone? Why isn't he here, creeping out of the treeline to ask if Jake's all right? Did he run? Maybe he has Jake's phone. Maybe there was no signal and he's gone to try and find some, to make a call.

Maybe...

Fuck, it hurts to think.

Even just taking a deep breath hurts - something's wrong with his ribs. Bruised or broken. When he pulls his shirt up, he can see the seatbelt burn starting to deepen in color, a diagonal stripe from shoulder to hip written in bright red darkening to burgundy bruising, soon to turn purple and black. If he hadn't been wearing a heavy shirt it'd have torn his skin open. One side of his neck is rubbed raw, he can tell when he touches it and has to pull his fingers away at the spike of pain.

There are spots of dark on his pale shirt, blood seeping through or dripping from his forehead.

But, shit. It could be worse. Looking at the back half of his car, it seems like a goddamn miracle that it isn't.

Jake pulls his legs under him and tries to stand up.

His right leg just won't fucking do it.

Rather than take his weight, it buckles with a spike of pain so bad Jake cries out and collapses back onto the road.

As if it were a dam breaking, all the adrenaline holding off the worst of the pain seems to wear away at once.

Everything hurts, suddenly, a sickening wash of pain breaking against him like he's nothing but a shell to be worn to sand. He aches when he breathes, when he doesn't. A cough makes him whimper as his ribs creak and crack. His head throbs, his hands sting, his leg is swelling even as he looks at it, a broken bone. Definitely a broken bone.

"Jesus Christ," He groans, rolling onto his side, his face pressing into gravel and safety glass.

Nat won't notice they're not home until morning.

No one's going to know he's out here until after sunrise, until he's not up to get ready for class and Chris isn't curled up in the closet to sleep in his nest of blankets and pillows. No one's going to know what happened, and where the everloving fuck did his phone go?

Time passes. He doesn't know how much.

Maybe Chris figured they can't protect him and took the fuck off. Maybe he's going to find somewhere new to crash, some new people to care for him. Maybe he's hunting.

Who the fuck knows?

He comes and goes, in and out of consciousness.

He can't stand, and sort of scooting and crawling around does nothing to help him figure out where his cell phone has gone. No one else drives by on this mostly-abandoned country road, and it was a stroke of seriously bad luck the asshole who hit them and ran was there at all.

Asshole was probably drunk, driving back from the bar, trying to use the backroads to avoid the goddamn cops.

Bad. Fucking. Luck.

Jake wonders if the asshole will even remember hitting his car in the morning, or if he'll wake up and discover the front of his vehicle all fucked up and have no idea how it happened.

He thinks he might pass clean out for a while.

That can't be good.

His head hurts worse when he wakes up.

He raises his head slowly at the sound of a distant rumble, an ancient truck engine coming closer. It takes more effort than he ever imagined just to get himself up to sitting, ready to wave down whoever it is - whatever fucking angel is on this road at what has to be 3 or 4 in the morning by now.

"Please," He whispers, dry lips scraping against each other. "Please, please don't run m'over... please..."

Headlights wash over the scene of the crash, fading everything to nearly black-and-white. Jake raises a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly, as the blue-and-white Ford comes to an idling stop.

A door swings open with a creak and then slams shut again, boots crunching on the glass and debris on the road. Jake raises his eyes to see an old man in worn jeans and a grayish t-shirt staring down at him. "Well, I'll be damned," The man says, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. His hair's dark, but speckled with silver that's visible even in the night air. "You all right, son?"

Jake slowly looks back at his wrecked, ruined car, then back up at the man. "I'm pretty clearly not," He answers, then winces at his rudeness. "Sorry. I mean... no."

"That's all right. We all of us get a little more honest when we're bleeding from the skull. I'm gonna bet you aren't a natural brunette and I'm looking at a big old ton of blood there. What happened?"

"Guy ran the stop sign, hit me... drove off."

"Well, damn. What're you doin' up this way this late at night?"

"Would you... y'believe me if I said... star-gazin'?"

The man chuckles, but it's a low sound, and he moves closer. He pulls a heavy old cell phone out of his pocket - one of those goddamn flip phones that never dies or gets destroyed. It's like Captain Fucking America. Jake has to hold back a half-hysterical laugh.

"Hm, I might. It happens from time to time. Y'didn't come with a young lady, did you?" The man looks over the scene of the crash, searching for more people.

"No, no... just... jus'... I'm just here." He thinks of Chris, the open passenger door, the total lack of a vampire nearby. Is he hiding in the woods? If he's seen, or found out, he'll be hauled back off to be locked up somewhere, milked for venom for pharmaceutical drugs, treated like an animal. They can't admit he was here, he can't be seen. He must be hiding.

That's it.

Chris must just be hiding...

"Please, man, I-I can't find my phone to call for help-"

"I got you, son. I'll make the call. Likely your phone's just buried in the grass somewhere, we'll figure it out. You stay put right where you are, you don't want to move around and make any of it worse."

"Yes, sir." Jake stays where he is while the old man makes the call to 911, feeding him details when he asks, staring off into space when he doesn't.

They can pick Chris up when he and Nat come to get his stuff from the wreck tomorrow. They'll get him then. It'll be fine.

It'll be fine.

The old man hangs up and heads back to his truck, pulling out a battered old first aid kit. "You're lucky I believe in ghosts, you know."

"What? Why? Am I dead?" Jake looks down at his hands. They're scratched and bleeding, and he's pretty sure dead people don't bleed like that.

"No, son, no. But I wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

Jake blinks. "I... I don't follow."

"Well, had a little ghost show up at my bedroom window and refuse to shut up until I drove out here. Redheaded boy. Kept calling for a medic. Felt like I was back in the war for a minute before I realized it was him."

"Which... which war?"

The man fixes him with a stare as he crouches, old knees cracking as he does, in front of Jake. He opens the box and takes out some gauze and adhesive, antibiotic cream, something else Jake doesn't recognize. "You need medics in every kind of war there is, son. It doesn't matter which one. I've fought in two. But this boy called for a medic like he's seen the need for 'em before and didn't have time to save someone. Some kind of old ghost walkin' these roads saw you and made sure I knew."

Jake exhales, almost a laugh, and feels tears burn hot in his eyes. He realizes he's going to cry from sheer relief and exhaustion and pain, and he's not sure he can stop.

A ghost in the window means...

Chris left and ran for help.

"Thank you," he whispers, and he's not really talking to the old man at all.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[britishassistant]

From one gut punch to another, but fluff edition: I think Divus hates when Yuu gets sick. Being a test tube baby, Yuu must have missed out on the natural immunities given by typical pregnancy. So when they were really young they would get ill very fast and very terrible. You can’t tell me that first time parents Roger and Anita wouldn’t panic when faced with the dreaded stomach bug. And who else to watch the pup when they run out for supplies then their “Uncle Crew”. At first, Crewel would consider it an triumph that Yuu could get sick since most of his creations have natural immunity, but that immediately changed and suddenly he was panicking too after Yuu had a pretty nasty burst of coughing. After all Yuu is the first creation that he’s ever made that was meant to be fragile, he’s not exactly equipped with how to deal with that. Nowadays Yuu mostly just suffers in silence, but if Crewel happens to hear that a certain reporter is under the weather, The Perfect will mostly likely stumble back into their apartment to find a care package from him with all their childhood treatments and the decent medicine.

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa said: hahaha how about yuu getting sick with a cold, lol the city must be the verge on a civil war with all the villains arguing who takes care of yuu, no crimes where committed but breaking and entering and the occasional medicine theft, they could've had kidnapped a doctor, but nothing says "look i'm husband material" by treating them to get better by helping them themselves. I keep imagining riddle with trey bringing some soup but then being shoved to the side from jade and floyd, with them bringing blankets and medicine, only to be beaten by the savana trio, by them taking a nap with yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon and @coffee-or-hot-cocoa !

And oh. Oh. That makes so much sense and makes me so soft, I declare it canon.

Because Yuu’s lacking in these natural defenses, they tend to be someone who goes all out when they get sick. By which I mean they’re never someone who can have ‘just a light cold’, because their body just goes to the greatest extreme, from 0 to 100 in a matter of hours. They get awful fevers, migraines that leave them hardly able to think, body-wracking coughs, upset stomachs that mean they’re unable to even keep water down, sore throats which quickly devolve into tonsillitis, and that’s if they’re lucky and their symptoms are mild.

And they’ll still try to go to work in this state, because they’re a dumb workaholic.

Yuuken is in charge of turning them around, sitting them back in the car, and driving them home to rest.

It was particularly scary for Anita and Roger when Yuu was small, because chicken pox hit them like a freight train when it went through their class at school, leaving them ill enough for two weeks that they were contemplating taking Yuu to the emergency room so they could at least get the fluids they were losing via IV drip.

Crewel found it fascinating at first, as all of his creations have natural immunity built into them, so nothing can stop them when they rampage. Seeing one of them laid low by a mere disease, it’s a new experience that needs to be documented to its fullest extent to gather valuable data.

Of course it stops being so ‘fascinating’ once it becomes clear how much #Y26 is suffering, how much longer they’ve been bedridden when compared to normal rates of recuperation in children their age, long enough that the idea of them just not recovering at all becomes a viable option.

That’s when Crewel stops collecting data and starts working on a way to cure Yuu or alleviate the worst of their symptoms.

It’s also why he gets so pissy when he finds out what the supervillains are doing while Yuu’s sick. What don’t those numbskull puppies understand about avoiding stressing out the patient and the dangers of weakened immune systems?! Do they want the reporter to stay ill for longer under their antics?? It’s not like they’ll even be able to remember any of the ‘caretaking’ that they’re hoping will earn them brownie points, given how out of it Yuu always ends up!

He usually descends like a fashionable yet wrathful god, chasing the unruly puppies out of the reporter’s apartment with a rolled up newspaper before they can make the situation worse. The best thing they can do is leave their offerings of soup and medicine for Crewel’s perusal and back off quickly. Attempting to force their way in or sneak Yuu out is a fast way to incur Crewel’s cold fury. The Diasomnia, Octavinelle and Savannaclaw supervillain groups learned that the hard way.

Yuuken quickly won Crewel’s favor when they first met by staying as far away as he could when Yuu came down with flu while they roomed together, and doing exactly what Crewel advised him to after he had to leave Yuu in Yuuken’s care overnight, asking sensible questions when unclear about his directives. That at least showed Crewel that Yuuken was willing to do what was necessary to return Yuu to health rather than fulfill a certain ideal of caretaking that’s ultimately more self-serving than actually helpful.

Yuu wakes up a few days later with a can of tuna perched on their chest, grumbling about the remnants of a headache and wondering how much they’re going to need to play nursemaid after Uncle Divvy got done with their supervillain admirers this time.

[visd3stele]

The beauty and his beast - wolfstar fic

summary: two different nights, years passed, some things changes, but some never do

TW: nightmares, PTSD, trauma, non depictive child abuse, themes of suicidal thoughts

A/N: I loved writing this, but I am so nervous about it. What do you think?

requests ; masterlist

fanart credit picture down below: @lunopal

Ragged voices licked his ears. Three different ones overlapped in a cacophony of hissed whispers and dooming laughs. From where he stood in the middle of his cell, Sirius could see a silhouette standing in the open door. Open, because there was no way he could escape. Three Dementors floated in a circle around him, so fast he could barely tell them apart. Black smoke, a burning smell and shadows whirled under low hoods, bringing him to his knees.

The man in the door curled his lips in a terrible grin. The Dementors were his and with each mind they broke, with each soul they ate, the wizard gained a sense of pride and morbid joy.

Sirius knew it. He knew the man, back in his school years - how far they seemed now! But Sirius also knew he was delusional. The Dementors bow to no one. They have no law, no caretaker, no master. Only their purpose.

Continuing to swirl around his frail body, sinked in to a third of what it used to be, bony edges poking out through dirty thin layers of clothing, the Dementors closed in on Sirius. Flashes of memories flew before the Animagus' eyes. James' empty ones, still open in a silent plea for his sacrifice to be enough to save his family, his brown hair dipped in his own blood, body angled in an unnatural position with his hand stretched forward above his head as if reaching for his best friend. Lily's tears, yet to dry and evaporates, stained her too pale face, the red of her hair sprayed around too lively; no blood pools formed around her lifeless body, laid on its belly as it fell onward, as if leaping away from her son, so the baby won't have to see it. And finally Harry, his godson, crying in his crib, a brown-red crust shaped like a lightning forming on his forehead; his green, small eyes, swollen, puffy and trimmed with red followed his godfather as the man turned his back on him and ran outside.

Sirius cursed loudly, beginning to shackle the chains trapping him in place in case he tried to escape the daily visit of the Prison Warrant and his guards. But the now twenty five years old has stopped trying to run a long time ago. What good would it be? There was nothing - no one - waiting from him out in the world. No, Sirius trashing around the cold, dirty dais, snapping the metal biting in his wrists, bruising his effervescent skin and almost cracking his bones as well was his attempt to run from his own mind. If he could just wipe the haunting memories away with a shook of his head, a twist of his back or punching and kicking the thick walls.

Fragments of thoughts he wasn't sure belonged to him invaded his mind. "Your fault. Traitor. Another Black." And, worst of all, one pained howl, a desperate scream in the night. Sirius wasn't sure if he heard it, or the dark creatures around toyed with him, but Remus' wild, feral yell of pure hurt reverberated inside the bars of his mind. The young wizard shut his eyes closed tightly, hoping to brush away the sound, the voices. Failing to do so, he released a scream of his own, only a hint of Padfoot, the big, black dog, his alter ego, printed in it.

The thirty four years old man yanked up. The bed sheets were soaked in his sweat, the blanket throwed on the floor. Sirius passed a shacking hand over his face, feeling the hot air leaving his mouth in short breaths, than big inhales with no exhale, the burning of tears on his warm red cheeks and the running nose. His lips felt sewed together all of a sudden, as chill after chill entered his body, cooling off his face too quickly.

It was just a nightmare, he knew. He escaped Azkaban, has been a free man from over a week already. But Sirius Black couldn't let the twelve years in prison go. The things he saw there, what the Dementors showed him day after day, carved their way in his brain, refusing to leave. Yes, he may have been wrong: his family and living friend welcomed him back. Harry was warming up to hid godfather, Nymphadora Tonks was eager to know her uncle, Andromeda even reached out, sending letter after letter and Remus - well, Remus hugged him tight and apologized for believing that filthy rat's lies. The werewolf spent his days, from first ray of sunshine until the last drop of sunlight. But the nights he went home. The nights when ghosts came to play, wounds teared open and pain leaked like blood from Sirius' heart, Remus was gone.

He tried to remember a time they didn't share a bed - before Azkaban, of course. Not in a sexual way, though it came to that in the late years of Hogwarts too. But simply for the comfort they each found in the other. It started in the second year, Sirius recalled.

Four twelve years old boys in a room seemed like a receipt for disaster. In a way, it was. After finding out their friend's secret, James, Sirius and Peter decided to sneak in the herbology cabinet, get Mandrake leaves and become Animagus. Seeing as they got away with it, the four created their enchanted map and become the Marauders, messers Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, waltzing their merry way through Hogwarts.

Not everything was merry and joyful, though. And despite their reputation, the wizards could be grave and serious when need be. Like one night, when Sirius woke them all up with his cries. The grey eyed boy stood on top of his bed covers, knees drawn to his chest, hands tangled in his shoulder length hair. He leaned back and forth, trembling. Front teeth bit in his lower lip to prevent him from making more noises as silent tears rolled down his face.

The other three boys thought Sirius saw a mean spirit, the haunted glassy look in his eyes only proving their theory further. But no danger threatened in the shadows of their room. No monster lurked in the darkness.

James was the first to get up and surf his way to the pure blood. Remus followed closely behind while Peter watched everything from the safety of his bed. Sirius' episode truly spooked him.

"Padfoot, mate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. 'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

James and Remus changed worried looks at the sourness of Sirius' voice. Their friend would usually be the epitome of confidence, yet now he seemed to desperately try to shrink and disappear. But it was late and they were tired, so the boys decided with a swift nod that they'd pick up the subject in the morning and climbed back under their covers.

Remus jolted awake. Two out of his three best friends were sound asleep. Sirius still stared at the wall in front of him, breathing jerky. Due to his fine, superior hearing, the werewolf discerned the Black boy's muffled whimpers, sounds that kept him from sleeping.

"Sirius, why are you so afraid?" Remus whispered.

" 'm not afraid, Moony. Sleep."

"Can't. Werewolf remember? I hear you trying to not cry. You can cry, you know."

"I know." Sirius said in a tone that clearly showed he doesn't. With a sigh, Remus threw away his blanket, slipped his feet in his shoes and trailed his legs over the dorm's brick daises until he reached his friend's bed. The brown haired boy signed Sirius to scoop over, which he did, to both wizards surprise.

Later, when talking about that night, Padfoot admitted he was too tired, too shocked and too lost in his mind to think and only acted on auto pilot.

Remus brought the blankets to cover them both, still seated as they were. "Do you need a hug?" Sirius hesitated before answering, but eventually he nodded twice, a quick movement as if the boy was ashamed to admit it and wanted to pass unnoticed.

But Remus smiled softly and wrapped his hands around him. Sirius clinged onto his friend. The warmth of the gesture, the cozy closeness of a settled, stable body, a person that cared deeply about him and only him as a being, set the restrained tears free. Remus held Sirius until his body stilled and he could feel no more tears soaking his pajamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius swallowed, but the words demanded to be spoken. "Yes."

"Alright. I'm gonna ask you questions and you can answer with yes or no. It's your choice if you want to elaborate. Sounds good?"

"Yes." Sirius said and for a moment his usual, ironic self showed up.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"About your family?"

With a shudder, the grey eyed boy forced out another "yes."

"Your brother?"

"No."

"Your parents, then. Did they - did they do something to you?"

"Yes." Remus' arms tighten around him and he clunged harder to his friend as well. In the safety of the Gryffindor dorm, shared with his most trusted peers, comforted by the scarred boy he became an Animagus for, Sirius stumbled over his thoughts. The dream weighted heavy on his mind, but he didn't know how to let free of those horrible images that haunted him. Not images, memories. Sirius feared that if he said anything they'll become real. Not that they weren't, but they happened in the past. Talking about them, invoking them, would feel like living through them again.

And yet, part of him wanted to talk. He needed someone to know. Sirius couldn't be sure why. Maybe to hear that it was nothing, that it was ok and he shouldn't be such a weak ship. Or maybe to hear it was normal and he wasn't alone. That is how parents love and his didn't hate him after all. Or just to show someone how broken he were, hoping to be picked un and patched.

So, speaking slowly, but evenly, Sirius retailed his nightmare to Remus. In his sleep, the twelve years old boy was hanging some muggle posters in his room: bands, promo for concerts, normal things a boy his age would own. He smiled broadly, music turned on quite loud, muggle music, when his parents bursts in. Walburga and Orion both yell, but Sirius can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s pretty clear they are very upset with him, though. And the reason couldn’t be more obvious. 

“Sirius Orion Black!” his mother shrieked. “Ungrateful, worthless child! You are a stain on the family’s name.”

“You should be ashamed of you. As much as I am for being your father. Well, say something. Look how upset you made your mother!”

“Sorry,” he’d try to say, but his voice would break, too small to be heard by the angry adults. Which only worsened their state. Sirius watched frozen in terror as Walburga took her wand. Only his head seemed to be able to move, and he was shacking it vigorously, wiping his cheeks with it. The young wizard tasted tears on his tongue as he repeated the same words over and over again “no, please, ‘m sorry!” It did nothing to help. 

Remus stayed in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The moon shone mockingly on the window. Last night has been a full moon and Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail failed to properly contain Moony. It happened quite a lot in their first days as Animagus. As normal, they got better over the years, the four boys falling in rhythm like an oiled machine. By the time they reached excellency, though, mistakes happened. James, Peter and Sirius thought less of it, but Remus took it badly. 

As he laid in the dark, blanket drawn to cover his head as he hugged his knees on the side, the young werewolf tried to remember what happened last night. What if he killed someone? What if he will next time the boys won’t be able to restrain him? Is it worth living like this, a danger to himself and the ones around? What if he hurts his friends? 

“I can hear your mind working from over here y’know?”

Remus straighten up in shock. “Padfoot?”

“Well, it’s not the Fat Lady. What’s on your mind?”

Remus shrugged, but Sirius wouldn’t stop pestering him until he poured his deepest fears and doubts. 

“You won’t”

“How do you know this?”

“You won’t, Moony,” Sirius said more firmly this time.

“Alright.” Remus clearly didn’t believe him and his worries still troubled him as he turned to lay back down. He heard footsteps, then felt the mattress shifting as another body climbed over his bed covers. “I know because I am Sirius Black and you are my friend.” Less than an hour later, both boys were sound asleep.

Sirius slept in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It became a tradition. At first, they'd wait until one of them woke frozen in pain and panic, then they'd stay together and talk silently until they could sleep again. Later, Sirius and Remus would wait until James and Peter were out to decide who's bed to sleep in, knowing one of them - or both - ought to need the comfort.

The man kept trembling. His sobs caught in hiccups, leaving him out of breath. He did it. He left Harry for revenge. He practically made the choice for James and Lily, selecting Peter as secret keeper. His brother died and instead of mourning him, Sirius rejoiced bitterly in his cell - until he found out how he betrayed the Dark Lord.

He was just another Black. An evil presence in the world, despite his efforts. Gryffindor or Slytherin, it mattered not when his genes crafted him. Sirius tried so hard to be good, brave, loyal and the only thing he managed was to disappoint everyone. He was a nuisance and a burden and the a stain on the world. It'd be better if his sorry, useless existence would be wiped off the surface of the Earth.

Such thoughts clouded Sirius' mind when a light knock pulled him out of his head. "May I come in, Padfoot?"

The man almost broke at the nickname. Only one single person now would know to call him that. The weight of the realization hit him and another wave of tears carried the air from his lungs.

Receiving no answer, Remus kicked the door open, worry written all over him. The werewolf was panting and sweating from running, eyes wide close to terror. "Padfoot!" Seeing his oldest friend's state, he rushed to his side and hesitated only a moment before drawing him in for a hug.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Dementors?"

"Yes. They-" Sirius gulped, shame tightening up in his throat. He was a thirty four man, for Godric's sake! And yet he cries like a baby. But the path he and Remus trailed off to, simple questions, any type of answer, so familiar and soothing he couldn't stop. "They tortured me. Showing me their - James and Lily's - death over and over. I left Harry, Moony. I stepped inside the house, saw that beautiful, brave child, suffering and I took off after bloody Pettigrew!" Before Remus could say a thing, Sirius continued, teeth so barred that words barely spitted out. "I heard you screaming too. I don't think that was real, but it sounded so broken, Moony. Twelve years, over twenty four full moons alone. 'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Remus inhaled sharply, pulling Sirius even closer to him. He rubbed circles on his back, leaning to whisper in his ear "It was not, Padfoot. I should have trusted you more, star. If anything, it's my fault for spending so much time alone. So much, in fact, that it seems I neglected you, our agreement."

“It was my fault.” Sirius insisted.

“No,” and not letting him time to argue, Remus added “I know so, Sirius, because I am Remus Lupin and you are my... friend.”

Sirius pulled away only to find a reluctant smile playing on Remus' face. His body reacted before his mind could process its moving. He moved on the right side of the bed, still avoiding the other wizard's eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Thought to check on you as well. And good thing I did. You looked..." The professor didn't know how to finish that sentenced. Hollow. Empty. Dead. Scaringly close to death, in fact.

"Merlin! Thank you, Moony. You don't look bad yourself."

Remus chuckled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Both men laughed. A bitter sweet sound passing through silence, taking with it any sign of discomfort that existed.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

[giggles-and-freckles]

Abi! How about 8. With obitine (because your amazing drawings threw me back into obitine hell again these past few weeks)

8. "Go! Take the others and run!" // (from these prompts)

- some art I scribbled out for this one -

None of this was part of the plan.

They were trying to keep a low profile. Trying to be discreet. Leading a parade of orphans through the streets of Donba’ar was not helping their case.

“Obi-Wan,” he hears from behind him. “She’s —”

“On it.” He rushes forward to scoop up the smallest member of their newly-formed group. She can’t be older than four-years-old and he hasn’t been able to understand a word she’s said since he’s met her. “Whoa, little one,” he says, straightening her dress as she wraps her arms around his neck. Big, brown eyes peer at him curiously. “You have to stop wandering off.”

She fires off a string of mando’a in response.

“Satine,” he calls helplessly.

“Gar enteyor gebbar, ad’ika,” Satine says, coming up on Obi-Wan’s side. She holds the hand of a young boy, dragging him along, but uses her other hand to tap the nose of the girl in Obi-Wan’s arms. “Obi kaysh cuyir cuun cabur.”

“What did you just say about me?” he asks.

Satine lifts an eyebrow and cooly slides past him, taking the lead spot of the group. “That your ears are too big for your head.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. “My ears —”

“Obi!” the little girl cries, grabbing at his padawan braid.

“Obi-Wan,” he corrects with a huff, grappling the braid out of her grip. “And that’s a part of my person, so kindly let go.”

“Obi!” she squeals in delight.

“You’re a public menace,” Obi-Wan says earnestly, looking at the toddler with severity. Her brown eyes blink back at him, happily unaware of the discomfort he is in.

There’s a reason he’s traded his creche rotations for the past three years. And a reason Qui-Gon lets him.

The thought jolts Obi-Wan back to the present.

Qui-Gon — who is a few klicks behind them, making sure no one follows them. Their escape had been close...and not easy, with a troupe of ten orphans travelling with them. Obi-Wan still feels guilty for suggesting the orphanage as a place of refuge. He hadn’t even considered the target it would place on the facility and it’s residents once the bounty hunters found them.

Especially when they’d found them before morning.

There’d been no time to create a sustainable action plan. Qui-Gon had held the hunters off and urged Satine and Obi-Wan to take the younglings and run.

They’ve been travelling for most of the day now. A few of the children are older, nearing their teenage years. They seem to have an idea about the direness of the situation and do what they can to help with the younger ones. But a few of them — like the girl in Obi-Wan’s arms and the boy whose hand is in Satine’s — don’t seem to distinguish this fleeing from a recreational adventure.

“Zhasmuh,” Satine calls over her shoulder. “Me'vaar ti gar?”

The oldest child, a girl possibly ten or eleven-years-old nods, readjusting the toddler on her back. “Elek, alor.”

“We need water,” she says quieter, for Obi-Wan’s ears only.

He grimaces. “It can’t be much further. Once we’re there, we can get in touch with your captain. You said he can assist with the children, yes?”

Satine doesn’t respond immediately, and Obi-Wan senses trepidation within her pause.

“Satine? What’s wrong?”

Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, even as she walks. “I am trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“The children…”

“Orphans.”

“That’s just it,” she says with a frown. “Mandalore does not have orphans. We have...foundlings. Children who are without parents. They are not left to fend for themselves in a government-run facility. They are...how do you say it? Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

“Adopted?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“Yes. And no. It’s complicated. But...either way, these children should not have been alone.”

“Perhaps their caretaker was out.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head, “Zhasmuh speaks of no adult.” She looks down at the boy who walks next to her, his small legs growing weary. Her frown deepens. “They have lost the Way.”

“The children?”

Satine looks back at Obi-Wan and offers a look of utter despair. “My people.”

Any sympathy or encouragement dies on his tongue, because, then — he feels it. His training bond being pulled taught, a clear message buzzing through.

Run.

“Satine,” he breathes, harshly. “Qui-Gon. He...he —”

Her eyes widen, then flicker to the children following them. “Already?” she hisses. “I thought we...I thought there was time. We have not yet reached Veldi’a.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “We...Satine.” He drops his voice, even though he knows the younglings do not speak Basic. “We are in great danger.”

“Obi-Wan, they cannot run,” she says through gritted teeth. “Look at them. They are dead on their feet already. We —”

“You must. All of you.”

Her eyebrows knit together for a moment, then lift altogether, a sting of agony glinting off of her. He tries not to flinch. She watches him. “You…”

“I have to go back for him,” Obi-Wan says, with a nod. “I cannot...if we are in danger, it means my master has failed. There is a reason. He is hurt, or…” A shaking breath. “Satine, I have to go to him. And even so, perhaps I can buy you all time. The bounty hunters. Surely, they...I can give you time.”

She offers a sad smile. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

“I’m sorry. I —”

“Don’t be. It’s the best of you,” she says, cutting him off with a shake of her head and —

Things truly become strange.

A kiss. She kisses him. It’s brief and chaste and tastes like sorrow, but Obi-Wan finds that it took his breath away even so. He blinks at her dumbly.

“You —”

“Go.”

“Satine —”

“They’ll be here soon. And your master needs you.”

“Obi!” the girl in his arms cries, slapping her hand against his cheek.

“Here,” Satine says, all-business. “Give her to me.”

“Satine,” Obi-Wan chokes off as the small girl in his arms is pulled up onto Satine’s shoulders. “I...you —”

“And there will be more,” she cuts him off mercifully and gives him a look to last a lifetime. “When you come back to us. When you come back to...me.”

The bond goes taught again, and this time Obi-Wan feels as if it is about to splinter into pieces. He hunches over as the pain rolls through.

“Go!” he manages, his voice rasping pathetically. “Take the others and run!”

If the best of Obi-Wan is his loyalty, the best of Satine is her passion. She gives him a resolute nod and turns to the children, willing — as always — to do the right thing, no matter what.

“Adike,” she calls, gathering the younglings close to her. “K’olar! Obi enteyor ba’slanar. Mhi enteyor viinir.”

Immediately, they attach themselves to her, each of them seeking purchase on the fabric of her dress or the hand of another child until they are all linked. Obi-Wan watches the moment, his heart constricting even as the bond with his master continues to tear him into pieces.

“Ben!” Satine yells, over the babbling of the children. His eyes find hers, just as easily as the children. She is a magnet in this way. The galaxy does not stand a chance against the magnitude of her determination and desire to do good. “May the Force be with you.”

mando'a translations (courtesy of mandoa.org of course)

- Gar enteyor gebbar, ad’ika. Obi kaysh cuyir cuun cabur.

Stay close, little one. Obi is our protector.

- Me'vaar ti gar?

Are you okay?/How are you doing?

- Elek, alor.

Yes, leader.

- Aliit ori'shya tal'din.

Family is more than blood.

- Adike. K’olar! Obi enteyor ba’slanar. Mhi enteyor viinir.

Little ones! Come close! Obi must leave. We must run.

[blackcatclawsout]

Majima x Reader- Shopping with Mama and Papa

"How long d'ya expect me to carry around this thing for?" Majima huffed.

"Just a minute longer, I swear! I forgot bandaids!" Y/N promised, making her way to the needed aisle.

She felt bad enough, making him carry the 9 kg bag of rice, despite his insistence, but to make him wait longer because of her forgetfulness made her hurry. She lightly jogged to the pharmacy area, slowing as she reached the aisles. She carefully began to stalk up and down the aisles, assessing the shelves for the bandaids. She only got a few aisles in before she was stopped by a sudden weight on her leg.

"Okaa-san!" A small boy chirped, burying his face in the fabric of her pants.

She hesitated. Clearly, this wasn't her child. Her head quickly swivelled in search of the correct mother, but no other woman was apparent. The little boy looked up, smiling. As soon as he locked eyes on her, the smile fell immediately.

Y/N prided herself on being a quick thinker and fairly level headed in situations such as these, but throwing children into the mix threw her off-kilter.

"H-hello... Are you looking for someone?" She hesitated, trying to smile.

She was met with widened eyes, teetering between fright and shock. Carefully, the little boy was plucked from her leg to stand on his own. She knelt to his eye level, repeating herself carefully.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"I can understand you!" His face lit up, clearly amazed by this foreign woman. Y/N smiled, charmed by his zeal.

"I hope so! What's your name?"

The boy rocked on his heels, "I'm Daiki! Whatta 'bout you?" he beamed cutely.

"Y/N; are you looking for someone?" She pressed politely. The boy's smile faltered, suddenly looking about.

"I lost my mom... I don't know where she is." Daiki trailed off quietly, looking distant.

The white noise of the store became more apparent to Y/N; The announcer over the store's intercom, the beeping of cashiers, idle chatter of shoppers. The stimulus would be a lot for anyone, let alone a child. She turned her head to look around. The department store sure did look big from this angle... Not everyone in Kamurocho was kind to others, even during the day. It didn't help ease her mind that it was already 4:30, meaning the hooligans of the evening would soon be making their way onto the street. She stood up defiantly. In clear conscious, she could not leave this child alone in the store.

"Why don't we find your mom together, Daiki-chan?" Y/N extended her open hand to the boy, smiling kindly. He looked up, smile perking up his body once again.

"Okay, Y/N-chan!" He took her hand.

The pair began trudging up and down the aisles, stopping at the sight of every woman. Slowly they migrated to other areas of the store, leaving the pharmacy area. The pair began to swing their arms while they walked, with Y/N enjoying the young boy. He chatted about his class, his favourite subject, and what it was like at home. He rattled off what he had done so far today, and to Y/N's own surprise, she was interested in what he had to share.

Having children had never really crossed her mind and wasn't a conversation Majima and her ever had. A wave of shock washed over her; she had forgotten all about him! A glance at her watched told her she had taken way too long. A rough voice cut through her worry immediately.

"Hey, where the hell ya been?"

Y/N whipped her head around, eyes landing on her lover.

The expression on his face read somewhere between annoyance and concern, Majima's steel grey eye surveyed her. His brow arched, head tilting to the side.

Daiki peered around her side, glancing at Majima, owlish eyes darting over his body. Of all days for Majima to not be wearing his snakeskin jacket, she thanked god today was one of them.

The young boy glanced cautiously up at his caretaker, "Um, do you know him, Y/N-chan?" Daiki chirped curiously, looking back to the older man.

"Oh, y-yeah. This is my boyfriend, Majima-kun." She flushed, glancing apologetically towards her partner. Without warning, Daiki flung himself to the yakuza.

"You can help me find my mama too!" He took Majima's free hand and led him over to Y/N. The child grabbed her hand and began to swing the arms of the two adults, "It's like when I go shopping with Mama and Papa!" He giggled.

Y/N felt a flush creep up her neck to her face. Her cheeks burned with a giddy feeling.

Me, like a mama?

She glanced up at her lover to gauge his reaction. Majima's eye was wide, a blush spread across his face as well, an ecstatic look written across his face. Their eyes met and the heat increased. Y/N tore her gaze away, feeling dizzy from the sudden thrill of it all.

"Sure, kid. We should probably get a move on, huh..." Majima grumbled, gaze landing elsewhere.

Daiki led the adults up and down the aisles, the three keeping their eyes peeled. Goro and Y/N began to relax after a minute, leading the small boy through the grocery store. Y/N giggled as Daiki pulled the two of them along, making faces at Majima. She laughed even harder when her one-eyed lover returned the silly face, sticking out his tongue and rolling his eye. She enjoyed this feeling. The light, warm feeling she felt in her stomach began to over-flow her body. Seeing Goro in any domestic situation always made her a little joyful, but this was a new sentiment. Seeing him like this as well; god! It was amazing. Y/N felt like it was a rare moment to see what he was like before the Yakuza. She walked to the end of the aisle, tittering to herself when she ran into a woman. She turned to apologize, meeting a panicked face.

"Excuse me, have you seen a young boy around here?" Her head bobbed around, scouting for her target. Y/N's face fell for a second, before forcing a smile.

"You must be Daiki's mother. We were just looking for you." She turned around to the duo behind her, watching them mess around.

Smiling sadly, she called out to the child.

"Mama!" Daiki exclaimed, rushing to her side.

Y/N watched on as the pair reunited, his mother fluffing his hair and checking him over. Once she appeared satisfied, they turned to leave with Daiki waving before they eventually wormed their way into the crowd of shoppers.

A pinch on the ass brought her out of her haze, brows furrowed at her mate who now cheekily grinned. She huffed before, returning her gaze to where the pair had disappeared. They watched together in silence for a short while, steady breathing between the two of them. For a tangible moment, Y/N could feel the mundane return. It wasn't necessarily sad, more dismaying.

"Cute kid, ain't he?" Majima sighed.

She glanced to look at him. Despite being on the side where his eyepatch was, she could still make out his lightly furrowed brows and tight lips. She understood the look he gave was that of when he was seriously contemplating.

He had mentioned once, when he was rather drunk after a night out with his boys, that he could have been a father once. It had caught her off guard at the time, as she was about to settle into bed again. Y/N silently turned back to him. His back was facing her; the oni mask boring into her, like a second set of eyes for him. She remembered crawling to him, finding tears silently falling from his face. He muttered something about his ex-wife and how it could have never worked out anyway, all the while she cradled him close, absorbing his quiet sobs. When they woke up the next morning, he either didn't seem to remember or didn't wish to bring up what had happened, so she never pressed.

Quietly, she slipped her hand into his, meeting the warmth of his flesh against hers. She enjoyed touching his bare hands, rubbing the back with her thumb, messaging the strong muscles that were sheathed underneath. Feeling the lightly calloused palms of her lover. He squeezed her hand in return, receiving her silent message. After another minute of silence, he sighed loudly, turning back to her.

"Hey, whaddya say we head outta here, eh?" he smiled softly, Kansai accent laid on thick. "I already paid for our shit, so no worries."

They walked side by side quietly, the evening sun hitting their faces as they stepped out of the store.

Clouds above were illuminated with the orange glow of the sunset, streaked with the pale blue of the exposed sky. The street lights began to click on, giving a faint glow to the shaded streets. The smell of wet pavement, beer, and grilled meat wafted throughout the air, drawing in the evening crowd. The usual bustle of Kamurocho began to settle in, causing strangers to bump into one another. The couple slipped into the forming traffic of the street, becoming ordinary in the dinner-rush. They slipped to a smaller alley, one they typically took to and from the apartment. The pervasive smell of wet stone mixed with damp tobacco filled their senses, darting through the dim walkway.

In a second of clarity, Y/N let go of Majima's hand, a frown settling to her face. He stopped and swivelled, examining her face.

"'Ey, what's bugging ya?" He asked, nonchalantly.

Events played in her head and her scowled deepened. He took a step forward, toughing her shoulder.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Goro pressed, his voice quietening.

She met his gaze, scowl remaining on her face.

"I fucking forgot the bandaids."

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR] Kairos

Kairos - Part 14

Pairing: Liam x OC Series Rating/Warnings: 18+; language; series will include ns*w 🍋 scenes Chapter Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Kairos (καιρός) is a word in Greek that translates to “the right time” or “the right moment to act” * Liam’s wife asks about “the one that got away” one night over dinner, and Liam recounts a relationship from his past * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 101: Were you ever going to tell me? * Author’s Note 2: * a very late, hastily proofread update thanks to early neighborhood fireworks and turning myself into an emotional support human to my dog (who hates loud noises) * Word Count: 1377 (5 minutes reading time)

Catch up with previous chapters here

“London?!” Max exclaimed. “We were there for Fashion Week! Is that why you switched your assignment to go with me?”

“Yes,” Benigno replied. “I could have used personal leave to travel there on my own, but the timing worked out in my favor and accompanying you was less conspicuous.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Tears had begun to form in Max’s eyes, upon realizing she’d been in the same city as her sister.

“With respect to you Miss, no.” Benigno looked over to see Max’s chin quiver as she fought the urge to break down in front of Liam. “First I needed to see with my own eyes if it was really her, and when I saw her…she asked me to keep her whereabouts a secret, Miss Max.” He glanced over to Liam before turning to face Max again, frowning at his confession. “I’m only telling you now because you’ve put pieces together, and it’s clear King Liam cares about Miss Elia, or he wouldn’t have asked about her after all this time.”

“How were you able to track her down?” Liam inquired.

Benigno gave him a small shrug before answering. “It’s better not to know the details, but I called in a few favors.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small silver case, opening it to pull free a blank ivory card, before slipping the case back into his pocket. “May I?” he asked, reaching forward for one of the pens on the table. Liam nodded and Benigno wrote something on the back of the card; he leaned forward when he was done and returned the pen to the table, then stretched his hand forward, presenting the card to Liam. “If she’s still in London, this was her last known address from when I saw her.”

Liam glanced down at the address before tucking it into his pants pocket, nodding with solemn appreciation. “Thank you, Mr. Santos.” He looked over to see the eager expression on Max’s face. “I know by all accounts this ought to be handled by family, but it would raise suspicions if you weren’t present with the other suitors for all of the events.” The corners of Max’s lips turned down in a pout, though she nodded in agreement. “I’ll have to look at the schedule of events to see when I could slip away unnoticed, but I thank you both for your help tonight. You have no idea how much this means to me, to even have this small bit of information.”

-

A muted beam of sunlight filtered through the wispy curtains, and Liam stretched his arms above his head before rolling on his side to shut off the chirping melody from the alarm on his phone. After a cursory glance at the notifications that rolled in overnight, he placed a call to room service to order breakfast and took a shower. Once he’d eaten and dressed, he left the hotel and took to the streets of London, in search of the first woman who captured his heart.

Nearly an hour later, Liam stood across the street from a row of houses. He checked the pinned location on the map on his phone, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. With only a few feet separating him from his past and possible future, he slipped the phone into his pocket and crossed the street, making his way to the front door. His heart fluttered at the sight of the knocker on the door, in the shape of a brass peacock. Taking the ring in hand, he knocked it against the plate secured to the door and waited for someone inside to answer.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when the door opened, but seeing an older woman with greying hair and tortoiseshell spectacles was not on his list. She cracked the door open just wide enough to block the entry, wary of the unscheduled visitor standing on the doorstep. “May I help you?” she asked, eyeing Liam cautiously.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Liam replied. “My name is Liam Rys, and I’m looking for Miss Young. I was told she lives here.”

“She does…I’m Mrs. George, the caretaker. Do you have an appointment?”

“No ma’am. I’m a rather old friend of hers and I’m only in town for a day between business meetings. I was hoping to say hello, possibly catch up over lunch if she’s free.”

Mrs. George set her lips in a tense, dubious line. “I’m afraid the lady of the house isn’t here at the moment, and unscheduled visitors aren’t allowed in.” She craned her neck out towards Liam. “And if you’re truly a friend of Miss Young, you’d know how much she dislikes surprise guests.”

Liam sighed, his shoulders slumping in tandem as he exhaled. “Mrs. George, this may be the only opportunity I have to speak with her for the foreseeable future. I’m not certain when I’ll be able to travel to London again, or whether she’ll be here when that time comes.”

Mrs. George scrutinized Liam’s face, then let out the tiniest gasp as she straightened her posture in the doorway. “When did you see her last?”

“It’s been three, nearly four years, give or take a few weeks.”

Mrs. George continued to study Liam’s face for a moment, then nodded to herself. “I’m not at liberty to disclose her precise location, but Miss Young spends most mornings walking through Holland Park. You’ll likely find her there at this time of day.”

Liam’s face lit up with renewed hope, and he stepped forward, shaking hands with the kind woman. “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and walked down the short path to the gate, waving to Mrs. George as she watched him from the front window. He wondered what could have prompted her to disclose even such a general location for Elia, perhaps unaware that she’d been living under the fake name Benigno had used on the passport given to her all those years ago.

It didn’t take Liam very long to reach one edge of Holland Park, though he had no idea where to start looking for Elia. With another deep breath to calm his nerves, he decided to begin his search by walking the perimeter and slowly working his way inwards, in hopes of crossing paths with Elia.

Forty minutes and countless steps later, the only thing Liam found was a thin sheen or perspiration across his brow as he balanced walking with purpose and blending in with others meandering through the park. He was strolling along one of the paths past a playground, when he heard the familiar screeching birdcall of a peacock; he laughed to himself, recalling the reserve on Kos and the trips he’d taken there with Elia.

Liam thought he might’ve been foolish to think he could find Elia in less than a day, when she’d spent nearly two years completely under the radar. She’d taken a risk in sending money to Benigno, and she’d trusted him more than anyone to keep her secret. She’d never bothered to reach out to Liam, even before he’d gotten married; he began to doubt whether she’d even want to see him now.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly collided with a small child pointing at a peacock a few yards away. “Mama, mama! Pfau! Pfau!” Liam dodged the little boy speaking German that stopped in the middle of the path to point. He smiled as he looked down to see the boy’s excited face, then froze in shock.

“Billy! Slow down, sweetheart!”

Liam’s heart seemed to stop, hearing Billy’s mother call out behind him. He knew that voice. Throat suddenly dry, he forced a cough and dared to turn around, eyes trained on the ground, too nervous to look the mother in the eye right away. She had on a pair of nondescript black leather ballet flats, black dress pants, and a cranberry cashmere sweater set. Her obsidian hair was swept up in a purposefully messy updo. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. When he caught her eye, he grinned softly at her, and her jaw slackened enough to let her mouth fall into a perfect O.

“Liam? Is that you?”