#i am the infant about to be dropped

[tojikai]

Sundered 2: EMBERS

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, mean!gojo(kinda), babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, implied pregnancy, mentions of abortion

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's not sad.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

Each step that you take away from Satoru’s house feels like a stomp to your already broken heart. Your eyebrows furrowed, feeling the waterlines of your eyes start to get hot and itch. You recalled the noises and laughs that you heard from them while you walked out of their door. 

They have no idea how much you want to get down on your knees and beg them not to take away the only thing you have left. 

Your feet feel heavy with each stride you make toward your car. You could taste blood inside your mouth as you bit your inner lip to channel the pain away from your heart and to your body instead. You found yourself looking for answers on why all of this has to happen to you. As if being replaced by the man you love so easily and having to see how he treats someone else a thousand times better than you were not enough, you also have to witness your own flesh and blood turn away from you. Am I really that far behind that woman?

Is she that much better that even my own child prefers her over me?

You placed your hands on the steering wheel, looking down at your lap as you let the tears fall. You kept glancing over at the gate, hoping that Satoru would come out, running with your baby in his arms. Yet, you don’t want him to see you crying miserably. You swallowed thickly, letting out a large breath in an attempt to get rid of the painfully heavy feeling in your chest.

Driving away was numbing, and all sorts of thoughts ran inside your mind. But above all of them, your eyes were focused on the toy store as it got bigger in your view. You wondered about what you could get your little love to at least make her smile when she comes home. You remembered how your gift to her, her favorite bear that she used to hug as she sleeps ever since she was an infant, was cast aside as she clings to her new ones. 

Is that a foreshadowing of how you’d end up being in her life? It scared you.

Reaching the parking lot of the store, you looked at yourself in the car mirror, noticing your bloodshot eyes. You inhaled and let a big breath out slowly, puffing your cheeks as you assured yourself that it’ll be fine when she comes home later. Your head hurts so much but you can’t afford to care, stepping out of your car and heading to the front door of the store. The first thing you saw was a pregnant, young lady checking baby books. 

She reminded you of yourself when you were still pregnant with Yui; curious about everything, eager to learn, and all was about the baby. You admit that it wasn’t like that at first, given that you were young and had to drop out of college at that time. You were anxious, torn between decisions, and terrified of what life would be like for you from that point in time. During that period, you and Satoru were ignorant but trying hard to figure everything out.

You met Satoru at a nightclub where you worked as a bartender. He was flashy, and women just flock to him as if it was the most natural thing to do around him but that night, his eyes were on you. What with persistent offers of buying you drinks and talking to your manager to let you off early for the night, you ended up in a luxurious hotel suite with him. 

He even wrote his number on the price tag of the fancy lingerie set that he bought you after he ruined the one you were wearing the previous night. He was joking that you’ll never get enough so he’s providing you his contact for next time. You thought that would be the end of it. You didn’t think that it was just fate giving you a helping hand in advance because you’d end up with a child together. 

You consider it a dumb mistake. You know that Plan Bs exist. But with a working student like you who couldn’t even have time to get a proper boyfriend, it slipped your mind. The first thing you did after you got the results was call Satoru. You thanked the heavens that he wasn’t seeing anyone, and that he remembers you. It was a tense meeting, what with you asking if he wants you to abort the fetus. Next thing you know, you two were already dealing with your mood swings. 

“Look, I really want to work this out with you, Y/N. For the baby.” Satoru sighed, slamming the door behind him as he watched you sit on your old couch. You lean your elbows on your knees as you covered your face with your hands, harshly running them down your cheeks to wipe away the big, fat tears that fell from your eyes. There are just so many things going on with your life. 

“I’m only 21, Satoru. I got my whole life ahead of me.” You looked up at his tall figure, frustration was evident in your eyes. You can tell that he was also distressed. His hair was messy, his jaw was clenched tightly, and even if you cannot see behind his tinted glasses, you can tell that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. The dark half-circles under his eyes and the redness in them show just how exhausted and disquieted he has been in the past few days.

Satoru’s five years older than you. He was born to a rich family of politicians who don't and probably will never need support from him or the other younger generations in their household. He has a stable source of income, he could probably make life investments that could cover your yearly living expenses. He has nothing to worry about, he won’t be dropping anything if he decides to take in another mouth to feed. But you…

You’re basically your mother’s retirement plan and now you got pregnant with a kid of a man you barely know. “Y/N, listen to me.” He got down on his knees in front of you, trying to take your hands off of your face as you sob, struggling to catch your breath. What’s going to happen to you now? You didn’t even get to finish the degree that your mother was working her ass off day and night for.

“You won’t have to worry about anything, you know? I’ll handle everything you need—” He trailed, trying to calm you down as he gently grabbed your forearms. “You don’t understand!” You cut him off, snatching your hands away, aggravated that he’s not thinking about how it could affect everything in your life. “Then, what the fuck do you want to do?!” You flinched as he raised his voice at you, breathing hard as he backed away.

“You think you’re the only one who’s going to be affected by this? You think you’re the only one who’s being robbed of another future! Open your fucking eyes, stop being selfish!” Satoru snapped back, harshly taking his glasses off before throwing it across the room. You started to cry, whimpering as you used the collar of your shirt to wipe your tears away.

“I’m scared, Satoru. I’m just so scared. I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to raise a child…” You broke down, turning your body away from him. There was a long pause, a moment of pure silence, save from your sniffs and Satoru’s ragged breathing. 

You felt the couch dip as he sat down before pulling you to him, letting you cry on his chest.  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” You would be lying if you said that the back rub, the temple kisses, and his whispers of reassurance didn’t calm you down. Those thoughts were recurring in your head and now that you finally let it all out and got answers from him, you were soothed.

You blinked hard, shaking your head to get out of your trance. You went straight to the dolls section. You can’t believe you just had a flashback of Satoru comforting you in the warmth of his chest. Your mouth started to twitch, wishing that he held you like that earlier when his girlfriend was slapping into your face that they’re gonna give your child siblings. It shouldn’t hurt you, but it still did. You realized that this girl, this woman is gonna have everything you wish you had with Satoru.

You walked past the kiddie pools and trampoline section, stopping when you saw a playpen, almost similar to the one Satoru bought for your little girl but smaller. The size doesn’t really matter though, because you know that you don’t have enough space in your place for something so big, anyway. 

Going closer to check the prices, you bit your lip as your eyebrows bumped together. You were calculating your monthly expenses along with the money for your savings in case of emergency. It’s expensive but you’re determined to cut back just to buy it. You kept your eyes on the tag as you took half a step away from it but your back was met by something, or rather someone behind you.

“It’s not cheap, is it?” A man’s deep voice boomed as you turned around, but your eyes were met by a broad chest. He’s big, you thought. He’s literally blocking your view. It didn’t help that you were short enough to have to look up to see his face. He was also staring at the playpen as he held the pushcart beside him.

“Y-yeah…” You answered, a bit awkward as you found yourself admiring the guy. You admired fathers who are active when it comes to their children. You grew up without a father so, you just found it endearing. You looked away from the man, gritting your teeth as an image of Satoru and his girlfriend shopping for baby things appeared before your eyes for a split second.

“Excuse me, sir. I still have to buy my daughter a gift.” You bowed slightly before turning away. He just nodded his head, too occupied to even look at you. You proceeded to check out the little dolls, hoping that you’d find something that’ll really catch your daughter’s eye. Picking up a dark-haired baby doll with big blue eyes sitting on a stroller, you smiled as you remembered how it has the same eyes as your baby.

You went to pay for the doll, and your heart was filled with joy despite the throbbing pain in your skull and the hot feeling behind your eyes. You reminded yourself not to forget to take your medicine. Thinking about getting sick and having to leave your child for a couple of days with them again makes you anxious, afraid that she’ll never want to go home to you again. 

You hurriedly went home, driving in the midst of the rain. You put the little doll on the chair, ready to surprise your baby girl when she comes back. You had to bear with the time, constantly checking your phone if your little girl and her dad are on the way to you. Your heart swelled at the thought. 

Though, you know that you’ll never be the one he comes home to, it’s still nice to think about. 

—--------------------------------

“She really called me Mama.” Naomi giggled as she kissed his daughter’s cheek. Satoru smiled, watching them play together warms his heart. It made him feel like he was staring at his family even if he knows that his daughter isn’t hers. He pursed his lips, remembering the look in your eyes at what you heard the child say.

He felt conflicted, not knowing how to react to all of it. He doesn’t want to embarrass his girlfriend by correcting her in front of you. But he also felt bad that he just watched you walk out that door on the verge of tears. Satoru had you memorized after all this time, it wasn’t a long time but he used to watch everything you do.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, though.” Satoru sighed, shaking his head as he pushed a bit of Naomi’s hair away from her face. Her expression dropped as she adjusted the toddler in her arms. Satoru pulled her close to his side, hugging her waist as he thought about how to explain it to her without making her feel disheartened.

“I’m worried about how Y/N will feel about it, to be honest. I don’t know but it may worry her.” He kissed the side of her forehead before stepping away as he watches his daughter’s eyes look at them. He knows that she’s still too young but he feared that she’ll get confused by all of this. 

Like why is her father not with her mother, and why is he holding someone else?

He wondered if she’ll grow to hate him for giving up on their family. “Oh, Is that so…I thought we were fine already.” Naomi’s voice was quiet as she bit her lip, making Satoru rethink. “It’s not that, I just think that maybe that’s how she might feel.” Satoru took one of her hands, kissing it before rubbing his thumb on her soft skin. “No, I understand, I got too comfortable. I’m just a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Satoru doesn’t want to make her feel like this, she’s just really attached to his baby. He knows that Naomi adores kids, they often joke around about it, so he could see why she’s excited about his daughter calling her Mama. Thinking about it now, maybe this shouldn’t be so bad. After all, she’s not gonna be just a girlfriend to him forever, right? Naomi is a great person, and Satoru thinks that it’s not impossible to have a future with her.

“Don’t say that. That’s just my assumption. She’ll tell if it’s not alright, I know. We’re co-parenting so we have to talk about those stuff.” Three squeezes to her hands made Naomi smile sweetly at him, her eyes as kind as the stars. “Yeah, discussions are important. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to keep her away from us.” The calmness in her voice comforted Satoru.

—-------------------------------------

After receiving a text from Satoru, you found yourself staring at the mirror, retouching your makeup like it’s gonna make him fall for you. Hopeless. Not long after, the doorbell rang and you dashed to the door. There, Satoru stood with Yui asleep on his shoulders. You took her bags, along with the teddy bear that she was hugging to her chest. Seeing her holding it again made you feel relieved.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru inquired, walking past you to put your kid in her little bed. You hummed in response, “She’s full, don’t give her any more milk. Naomi fed her before she fell asleep.” Her again. You thought as the small smile on your face dissipated. You’re just thankful that he didn’t take her with them here.

There was a moment of silence as the two of you watched your daughter sleep peacefully. A sigh escaped Satoru’s lips before he turned to you. He was about to say something, but closed his mouth, thinking. You took a deep breath, pursing your lips as you collected your thoughts. You started to rub your hands together, trying to get rid of the cold feeling on your fingertips.

Your communication issues with Satoru only worsened when he got a girlfriend. Seeing how he is with her made you doubt the importance of your words to him. It’s like if you get stuck in a room together with her and something happens, you’re almost certain that he’d accuse you first. You wouldn’t admit it but you yearn for him. You yearn for the way he acts towards her. You yearn for the things he does for her. 

You yearn for the things he so easily, willingly offer to her; things you had to beg for when you were still together.

“Satoru, I just want to ask…Since when did Yui start to call Naomi Mama?” You looked at the ground, somewhat embarrassed of your question but can’t pinpoint why. It just made you feel…weak and insecure. And you are that. But you can’t let Satoru see it. You don’t want him to feel even more sorry for you. You can see it in his and his girlfriend’s eyes whenever they look at you. They probably pity you and the state you are in. 

Alone. With no one to hold your pieces together but you.

“I don’t really remember. Look, I was going to mention that…” Satoru trailed, looking everywhere but you. He probably noticed your discomfort earlier. “I know it doesn’t seem right to you because she’s just my girlfriend but…” Here’s the “but” again. How come he can always find the good when it comes to her, even when she literally did you so wrong by letting your daughter call her Mama and even acting like one in front of you?

Ever since Satoru got a girlfriend, arguing with him started to feel like fighting in a war without any type of armor in your body. How are supposed to stand strong, when the fact that he’ll always be on her side was your weakness? There were times when you wanted to fight for yourself but you couldn’t bear to because you know that he was shielding her from everything, heedlessly deserting you.

“I didn’t really appreciate it. I mean… I-I just think she’s not in the place to—” You thought the words you chose to describe the situation were too risky when you were cut off by Satoru, taking his glasses off. You can’t read him but he’s looking at you with that apologetic gaze again. His face was filled with contrite and you can’t quite understand why. But like a mouse sensing danger, you wanted to run away.

“I…I’m thinking about proposing to Naomi.” It shouldn’t hurt. You told yourself again. You don’t have the right to feel hurt. This man disrespected you, hurt you, and made you feel so incredibly small yet here you are, wishing you were the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. “I know she’s just my girlfriend now, but it’s bound to change.” You suddenly just wanted him to leave. “She…she’d like to ask for permission to let our daughter call her Mom. You know she treats Yui like she’s her—” 

“I don’t want to.” You whispered firmly through gritted teeth, cutting Satoru off. You don’t wanna hear it anymore. You can’t go through that again and you can’t let that happen again. “Yui is my daughter, and I don’t want her calling anyone else Mama.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes before turning away to walk out of the room, not wanting to startle the toddler from her slumber. Satoru was instantly on your tail, calling your name.

“She’s my daughter, too. Y/n, what is wrong? I know that you have your limitations and that’s why I’m here to talk about it with you, but why are you acting like this?” He walked closer to you, trying to catch your eyes. “I know it’s not just about this, I know you’ve been having problems with her but give a reason, at least. She’s been nothing but good to our kid. ” It’s getting hard for you to breathe as you tried to process your emotions and his questions.

You proceeded to the kitchen, hurrying to grab yourself a bottle of water before you collapse, but failing terribly when Satoru spoke the next sentence “Y/N, we all have to adjust, don’t be unfair to her, she doesn’t deserve it.” 

“And I do?!” You shouted at him, taking him by surprise and making him take a step back. 

“You think she doesn’t deserve any of that shit but I DO?!” You lamented, shaking your head in pain and disbelief. There were tears streaming down your face and no pattern of breathing can help you control it. You were able to keep it in when he shoved his new girlfriend in your face several months ago, but now it’s taking its toll.

You were about to get the clothes that he bought for your daughter on your way home from work but were met with a woman snuggled up to him on his couch. You hated him for allowing you to see them like that when he knows that you haven’t even processed your split yet because a month before that, he was saying that he could fix his shortcomings for you and his daughter. 

You remember how sick you felt in your stomach when he introduced her, saying that you weren’t supposed to see them like that. It’s revolting; how he thought that you were upset because of what you saw and not because he just went back on his words. Naomi kept her head down, standing in front of you as she muttered an apology before scurrying to Satoru’s room. 

Naomi was his father’s new assistant and unlike you, she got to finish her studies. Despite being classmates in high school, she was three years older than you due to the frequent relocation of her family. Regardless of her tough childhood, she was known to be a smart kid. No wonder his mother approved of her in such a short amount of time. 

You and Satoru were never perfect but it doesn’t mean that you were never happy with each other before. The issues overpowered your interest in each other, making it hard for the two of you to bounce back. You admit that you’ve been negligent of Satoru at a certain point of your relationship but it was only because you got tired of his ways.

He would come home late, making you stay up all night because he failed to reply when you texted him, asking him his whereabouts. He’d be out drinking with friends, and it wasn’t a problem but you just wanted him to at least let you know so wouldn’t be worrying to the point that you can’t even sleep.

His mother was overbearing. You got pregnant by someone’s son in a one-night stand and that’s all she paints you with. You were belittled and told that you can’t even take care of the child properly. Hell, was she so eager for Satoru to leave you and find someone better who achieved something in life.

Consequently, this negligence led to fits of jealousy from Satoru. This drove you to quit the job you used to have after a coworker of yours who only wanted to help became the subject of his suspicions. His mother saw you getting dropped off by your friend while she was babysitting your daughter. 

It was only because your car broke down and you don’t want to bother Satoru at work. You couldn’t really blame him for thinking that way because you know that he’s been feeling invisible to you which wasn’t true. You just don’t know how to deal with it anymore and you started to pull yourself away.

It got to the point where you couldn’t even communicate how you truly feel about him because it was overshadowed by your problems. You were arrogant enough to tell him that someone could treat you right and do much better and now, look at you; standing before him and his girl. Longing for him and eating the words you spitefully told him.

Pining so intensely for something you never had to the point where you physically ache.

The memory was tormenting, heart-rending, and traumatic to you. And now you get to watch them write their happy ending while you are here, left in the dust, drowning in the feelings that will never ever get recognized and will never ever be relevant. 

It hasn’t even been a year, and he’s already planning to marry her. He’s been nothing but better to her, yet, he couldn’t even change his ways for you and your child? Couldn’t he learn to truly love you after everything you endured just to be with him? You know that you have flaws, and chose some wrong steps and paths in your relationship. 

But you can’t bear to lose him like this. You know that you could have fought more for your relationship. He’d always say that you’d work things out. So, why did he stop? How could he stop choosing you so easily?

“How could you give her the world, yet refuse me the tiny bit of what I have left?” 

Your voice was small as you backed away, defeated. Satoru couldn’t move. From everything that has happened that morning, he could tell that you’ve been on edge. To Satoru, the only thing that connects you to him is his daughter. He refuses to believe that after all of that, you can still make it work.

At least, that’s the realization he came about when he met Naomi. She taught him that love isn’t supposed to be strenuous, it isn’t always about fighting. Within his tumultuous relationship with you, she came around and showed him that he’s seen. That his feelings are valid. He came to the conclusion that maybe he just wanted to love you because you have a child together. 

“Tiny bit?” He asked, frustrated that you just won’t let this go easily, irked that you always think you’re the only one having a hard time. If Satoru’s being honest, he’s just tired of it all. He just wants you to understand his point and get it over with. But now you’re crying in front of him and again, he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t even think of the right things to say or the right decisions to make. It’s like it’s all back to square one with you.

“You call it ‘tiny bit’ when I couldn’t even live my life because of you?! I’ve given everything, Y/N! I just want to be at peace with everything and I’m obviously not having it with you!” You couldn’t even breathe through the piercing ache in your chest from the daggers that are coming out of his mouth. Your hand reached over to your chest, grasping your shirt as his every word irreversibly pulverized your already wounded heart.

“I wish I never met you that night and I wish I never had Yui with you. You’re a thorn in my side, Y/N!” By the time he finished screaming at you, you were shaking like a leaf, grabbing a chair beside your table as your wide eyes stared at him in shock. Grief, mortification, and agony were plastered on your face, and only then did Satoru’s words sink into him.

“Y/N, I—” Before he could even form a proper phrase, a loud cry erupted from the other room. Yui. He watched as you quickly wiped away your tears, seeing the emotions mix inside your eyes until they turned into a weeping void with all the tears pooling inside them.

“I…I loved you, Satoru. And I hate that even now that you’re kicking me while I’m down for the sake of someone else, I still love you.” The crack in your voice had Satoru subconsciously moving closer to you, opening his arms to pull you into him but you were quick to flinch away, sniveling.

“Please, just—just go. Do whatever you want, just d-don’t take Yui away. I’m fine with it now, Satoru.” It’s almost as though something in you died when he spoke those words to you. You don’t know if he heard because you couldn’t even hear yourself. You could feel the beat of your heart in your chest and each one of them sends a burning ache to your body. “Just go, please.” You whimpered as you bit your upper lip, looking down on the floor. 

Satoru can’t take his eyes off of your fragile figure as you leaned on the kitchen counter, slowly walking back to your daughter’s room. He remained unmoving until you exited the kitchen area. It was only after a few minutes that he decided to go, not bothering to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face as he listened to your muffled cries behind the closed door.

Each sob was filled with anguish that Satoru knows he’ll never be able to erase.

—------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later have passed yet Satoru still doesn’t know what to make of himself. He couldn’t focus on anything that he works on. He couldn’t even workout properly, he always ends up getting angry. It was a good thing that both he and Naomi were swarmed with tasks; they didn’t have time to interact any more than what their jobs would allow. If they did, Satoru isn’t sure if he’ll be able to focus on her. She still has time to visit every week, though. During those days, she spends her time with Satoru and sometimes, Yui.

He makes sure to free his time and himself completely when he’s with his daughter so he can give his full attention to her. Satoru picks her up from your house, same schedule as before. Sometimes it’s you, but other times, it was your mother. “All I asked of you was to never break her, Gojo.” were the first words she spoke to him. Satoru can’t look her in the eyes. Your mother was a kind woman, humble and unjudging. And to have her talking to him like that, Satoru was beyond ashamed.

He couldn’t give her a reason, or an answer. All he did was apologize. Like he should. Naomi was unaware of it all and the proposal that Satoru was planning for her was set aside due to all that had happened. He just doesn’t think it’s the right time to plan about it when his relationship with you is strained. Yes, you’re not together anymore but you’re still the mother of his child and he wants to be civil with you, at least.

Yui kept asking for you even when she was with him as if sensing that her Mama was hurting. She’s always carrying the new doll that you bought for her. Satoru once asked her if you cry and she would simply shake her head. He gets nothing out of it, of course, she’s just a kid. But who else could he ask?

Satoru has no idea what you have been doing. He knows that you go to work, but other than that, he’s clueless about the places you go to and why your mother started babysitting his daughter more during the past few days. Satoru thought that maybe you just can’t stand seeing him anymore and is refusing to face him whenever he picks his daughter up. You have every right and reason to despise him, after all.

So, now he stands on the other side of your door, wondering if he’ll get to see your face this time or be welcomed with the frowning face of your mother. He knocked three times, like he always does, adjusting the collar of his shirt. To his surprise, it wasn’t any of the two women he was expecting holding the door open for him. 

“Who are you?” A shirtless man with a muscular build stood before Satoru, a curious yet accusatory gaze scanned him like he was an intruder in his own woman’s home. He leaned on his tattooed arm against the doorframe, blocking the tiny view he has of the inside. It pissed him off, clenching his jaw for a few seconds before speaking.

“Who are you?” Satoru bit back, raising his brows in an attempt to intimidate the guy. He’s only a couple of centimeters taller than the stranger but he’s bigger. It wasn’t a big deal to him until the man opened the door wider. A short, deep chuckle escaped his lips before a smug smirk appeared on his face. 

Tilting his head, the man gave Satoru a clear look at the scratches adorning his nape and the purple and maroon marks on his jaw. It made Satoru’s blood boil, unreasonably so.

“Think you know who I am now?” 

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[lovelytsunoda]

you've got me under your spell | eddie brock and venom

summary: the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household

pairing: eddie brock x wife!reader (and their son!) x venom

warnings: i've turned eddie brock from a swagless loser to a dilf, venom is loaned to a child as a halloween costume, venom is almost like a second child tbh, implied smut, brief mentions of mental illness and pregnancy-related mental health issues. not to spoil anything at the end but the final section is pretty fucking funny if i do say so myself.

author's note: i have a very delayed last minute addition to my halloween fics for 2024! after flying through all three venom movies in about two days (as someone who doesn't watch marvel movies, might i add), i am pleased (and a little concerned) to annoucne that eddie brock is now my favourite marvel character.

yes, dylan brock is a canon character in the venom comics (or so i have been told) but all this dylan had in common with the canon version is his name.

2010.

she watched fondly from the doorway as eddie picked up the infant, who was currently trying to crawl towards the white pumpkin in the bay window. dylan laughed in his father's arms as eddie spun around before cradling the infant against his chest. he caught his wife's eyes from the doorway, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked down at dylan.

"hey kiddo, i think mommy's looking at us."

dylan smiled, wide and toothless, letting out the baby equivalent of a cheer as he looked over at his mother.

"are you guys ready to make the rounds? i promised mrs. chen some baby time." y/n laughed, reaching out to hold her son's small hand in hers.

the streets outside were lit up with fog machines and smiling skeletons, filled with the sounds of kids milling about. it was baby brock's first halloween, and he was dressed appropriately for it in his little pumpkin costume. after attempting to suck on y/n's finger, dylan dropped her hand and busied himself with attempting to trace the tattoos visible on eddie's forearm.

eddie beamed, kissing his wife softly before answering. "we're ready if you are. lead the way, mamas."

y/n had never pictured herself as a mother. in her twenties, when it seemed like settling down was the only thing people her age wanted to do, she was paralyzed with fear, insecurity and a little bit of self-loathing. being inside of her head was a nightmare, and she wasn't even sure she'd make it to thirty.

things had started to change when she met eddie brock.

slowly, she came alive again. she started to want things that she had thought were out of reach. she wanted to get married, have that house and that family and the white picket fence. to know that everything she had done had added up to this moment, and that everything had been worth it.

but she hated being pregnant. for her, growing another human being had been an arduous, terrifying experience. the eight hours of labour she had gone through on the day dylan was born was enough for her to decide that she didn't want more kids, and that she could still have the family she dreamed of with only one child.

she kissed dylan's forehead softly, brushing back his thin baby hair before tucking the small pumpkin hat onto his little head, and over his small ears.

the couple walked down the front steps of their bungalow, one of eddies arms around his wife, and the other holding his son (which was quite the feat, considering that the infant so desperately wanted out of his father's arms. dylan was an active baby, but he was allowed to crawl down the residential street, he would do so at such a pace that the brocks would never get him back.)

at every house they went to there was someone to coo over the littlest brock. eventually, eddie had to drop that arm around his wife so that he could use both hands to hold his son. dylan smiled that wide, gummy smile and laughed and babbled at all of the people that they passed, y/n clutching an almost-full orange bag of candy (she was convinced that some of their neighbours gave out extra candy to the couple, simply to reward them with the hit of caffeine found in chocolate that the new parents would so crave).

as they walked towards mrs. chen's house, dylan finally settled in his fathers arms, eddie looked over at his wife with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes. even carrying a little bit of extra weight around her hips and stomach, her breasts a little fuller and her arms a little chubbier, she was as radiant as she was the day that they got married. he would do anything for her, for his son. his little family.

"eddie, darling." she laughed, turning to face him. "you're staring."

eddie blushed, the rose in his cheeks barely visible in the dark. "uh, no i'm not."

"yes you are." she giggled. "i love you, eddie brock."

"i love you more." eddie beamed, leaning over to kiss her. "i think the little guy is worn out." he spoke softly, nodding towards the baby in his arms. "he's asleep."

"awe." y/n cooed, gently stroking her son's arm with her pointer finger. the sight of eddie holding their son in his arms would never grow old. she was starting a folder of pictures on her laptop of this very thing, as she knew dylan would soon be too big for his father to hold. "he's just like his father. he can go to sleep any time, any where and in any condition."

eddie laughed. "i feel like there was an insult buried in there somewhere."

"i still married you, didn't i?"

2024.

"dylan, if you want to get to eric's on time, you've gotta get going now! his mom's on the way!"

y/n knocked on her son's door, waiting until she heard the disgruntled teenage groan from the other side. satisfied that dylan had been served enough warning, she headed back out into the living room.

she had put eddie in charge of moving the halloween candy from the massive carboard costco boxes to the festive plastic bowls, and he was doing a surprisingly okay job at it.

their life had changed drastically in the years since her husband had begun to share his body with a symbiote. the symbiote had once given dylan nightmares, and she had fielded one too many concerned calls from the school after he had gone around and told all of the other kids that his father was an alien and would eat anybody who was mean to him (although, once eddie and venom had bonded, venom was steadfast in his commitment to eating any bullies that dylan may face) it had taken time, and a lot of home repairs to get used to, but alas, venom now felt like one of the family.

well, more like the cousin you don't want any of your friends to meet. or the alien that your husband is in a strangely homeorotic relationship with.

"i thought venom would have eaten half of those by now." she remarked, leaning over the back of the sofa to rest her head on her husband's shoulder, hands on his chest.

"i made him promise to behave today. i don't want him scaring the little kids." eddie shrugged, turning his had to kiss his wife softly.

"what did you have to give him?"

eddie paused, waiting a beat in order to formulate an answer that wouldn't send his wife into a spiral. in the distance, he heard dylan's bedroom door open and close, and then the fourteen-year-old came bounding into the living room.

"eric's mom is like five minutes away. is it okay if i wait outside?"

keeping her hands on eddie shoulders, y/n straightened, looking over at her son. "no costume?'

she didn't miss the way that eddie's muscles tensed up under her hands, or the way dylan's pinkie finger twitched. neither of them said a word, and when her eyes zeroed in on the full boxes of nestle chocolates, she got her answer.

"edward brock, please tell me that you did not lend your symbiote to our son as a halloween costume!"

dylan's shoulder rippled black over the top of his hunter-green sweatshirt, venom's inky head materializing next to a defeated looking dylan.

"okay, we won't tell you." the symbiote said , turning to face eddie. "you told me that this was okay with mrs. b."

eddie got up from the couch, pointing a finger at the symbiote. "i said no such thing. i said we were never supposed to tell y/n under any circumstances."

"mom, it's only for the night. you let dad have venom year-round!" dylan protested, stuffing his hands in his sweater pockets. "how is this any different?"

y/n stopped and counted to twenty, eyes closed before she breathed deeply and opened them again.

"that's because your father is the one who brought venom into this house in the first place, and i didn't get a say in the matter. also, your father is an adult, and venom actually listens to him."

"i listen to nobody!"

eddie coughed. "actually, he doesn't listen to me at all. he does what he wants half of the time."

"not the point, eddie! hosting venom almost killed you."

"actually- "

"not now vee!" eddie and y/n shouted together.

eddie reached for his wife's hand, knowing that she needed something to ground her, something tangible that she could hold on to. his hand was warm and calloused, comforting. she ran her thumb over eddie's knuckles as he stepped closer, dropping his voice in the hopes that dylan and venom wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"y/n, you know that i wouldn't let dylan take venom out if i didn't think he could handle it. its just one night."

"eddie, venom eats people. i don't want to get calls from parents stating that their sons hung out with my son, and then they came back headless."

"he has sworn to be on his best behavior tonight." eddie insisted. "and besides, when was the last time we had a night that was just the two of us? no dylan, no venom."

she paused, trying to think, the calm was starting to ease back into her body, the initial panic subsiding. her husband was right, she knew. while nights without dylan had become more common the older he got, with the boy staying over at friend's houses or going out late with his buddies, having a husband who hosted an alien sometimes put a damper on date night.

for the past five years, she had felt like she was in a never-ending threesome. don't get her wrong, the sex was absolutely phenomenal, but she missed her husband. she missed the days when it was just the two of them, curled up in bed on a sunday afternoon, with reruns of a bad sitcom playing in the background as they made love without a care in the world.

she realized that she was excited at the idea of having sex with her husband without an alien tentacle trying to slip into her ass (which felt absolutely incredible, by the way. after the first time venom did that, she downloaded all the monsterfucking books she could find on kindle unlimited. trying to explain the plot of ice planet barbarians to eddie had been quite the spectacle).

a honk in the front driveway snapped her out of her thoughts. dylan was looking at her expectantly, venom's head still hovering in the air next to him. if it were possible for symbiotes to give puppy dog eyes, she was sure that venom would be doing so. she looked at eddie, and then back at dylan, weighing her options.

"fine. dylan, you can take venom with you."

venom and dylan gave a cheer, the teen high-fiving one of venom's slinky tentacles.

"i promise not to eat any of the children, mrs. b. only gourmet chocolate. dylan says tonight is the best night for it."

"go on." y/n laughed. "don't keep eric waiting. and be careful!"

eddie and y/n stood by the front window, eddie's hand in her back pocket as they watched dylan run down the driveway and jump into the back of eric's mom's nissan. he had grown up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he was an infant in a pumpkin costume, cradled in eddie's strong arms. now he was almost as tall as his father.

y/n let out a small yelp as she felt herself become weightless, her husband's strong, beefy arms wrapped around her thighs.

"baby, be careful! you aren't as strong without venom! i don't want you to hurt your back!"

"i'll be fine! we have a heating pad for a reason!"

the headed down the hallway in a cloud of giggles, eddie kicking the bedroom door closed behind them with a cheeky grin on his face.

oh yeah, they were going to enjoy every second of having the house to themselves.

____

it was nearing midnight when dylan brock came home, shocked to find his father in the living room, sitting on the sofa in the dark and wincing every time he moved.

"dad? what are you doing? where's mom?"

eddie groaned, trying not to move too much. the heating pad rested against his lower back, and any movement sent a sharp pain up his spine. "she's asleep. tired out."

dylan made a face, dropping his backpack next to the couch. "god damn it, dad! i don't need to know that!"

eddie chuckled. "not like that." well, sort of like that. "this week has been hard on her. between you, me and venom, she's got her hands full."

"what's the heating pad for?" dylan crossed his arms over his chest, staring his father down.

"i hurt my back. it's nothing, not important."

"oh my god! you hurt your back banging mom!"

"dylan, keep your voice down! your mother is sleeping!" eddie scolded, screwing his eyes shut. "and she doesn't know. there is nothing less sexy than pinching something in your back while-"

"stop. please. i don't want to know."

"anyways, i waited until she fell asleep to put some muscle spray on it, and that didn't help, so here i am with the heating pad. how was your night?"

"it was good. venom's fun. we went trick-or-treating around eric's neigbourhood, where all the fancy houses are. also, i think i know what possum brain tastes like." dylan scrunched up his face. "venom decided he'd eaten enough snickers bars."

"snickers are for the weak." venom grunted. "real men eat brains."

eddie laughed. "now you know what the inside of my head is like. at least venom didn't try to eat any people. i wish i never knew what grey matter tasted like."

dylan extended his hand. "it's been fun, but i think he wants his host back."

eddie took dylan's hand in his, inhaling as he felt venom fill his veins once more, the familiar voice he'd come to tolerate returning to the back of his mind. slowly, the stinging pain in his lower back started to subside, the symbiote healing him from the inside out.

"thanks buddy. i needed that." he sighed. "and thanks for looking after dylan."

"no problem, eddie. you know, you'd get hurt less around the house if you stopped doing silly things when i'm not here."

"hey dylan, do you want the symbiote back?"

dylan laughed, heading to his room. "not a chance, dad. you're the only person in the world who could handle him."

[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie has a baby

"wait a second," max blinks, hands in the air to stop the conversation from going any further than it could. the rest of the guys quiet down and slowly turn to him. "are we just going to glaze over the fact that she said she's bringing a baby to the paddocks tomorrow?"

lando furrows his eyebrows. "surely, she's not talking about an actual baby, right?" he looks around for approval. "i just assumed she was talking about a... partner... boyfriend, perhaps?"

mick shrugs, "i always just assumed she was talking about a grown person. she wouldn't bring an infant to the track."

"is no one even concerned that she's only turning 19 this year and you lot assume that she's got a baby?" alex asks, scowling at his friends as he scratches his head. "maybe she knows someone named baby?"

"she calls them 'my baby', though," mick points out as he presses his lips together. "it has to be a person, right?"

"who's betting what?" charles raises his eyebrows. "i think it's neither a partner nor an infant. a car she named baby, maybe."

max furrows his eyebrows, throwing charles a questioning stare. charles just shrugs before looking around the group to get their opinions as well.

"okay, i bet dinner that it's just a friend," alex says. "you're all going to be eating your shit when tomorrow comes."

lando shakes his head. "i still think it's a boyfriend."

"what if it's a girlfriend?"

"fine," lando scoffs, clenching his jaw as he glares at charles from the corner of his eyes, "then i think it's a partner. happy?"

mick scrunches his nose. "i am not participating in a bet about my teammate! and i've seen her car before – it's definitely not called baby."

"don't be such a party pooper," max frowns. "come on, mick, you have to have made some assumption about who or what this baby is. i still think it's an infant."

"she's 18!"

"potato, potato," max waves their concerns off. "so this is all for dinner, right? bet?"

"yeah, bet."

"mick!" she throws her arm into the air at the sight of the german entering the paddocks, waving him to approach her. "come here! i want you to meet baby!"

mick perks up, eyebrows shooting up that he's coincidentally the first face she's seen as their day starts. she's in the middle of a crowd, hands held out ahead of her as he approaches. as the crowd dissipates, he realises that she's got a stroller parked in front of her.

could it actually be an infant? oh, god, suddenly he's very concerned for her as a person in general. how could this have happened?

"this is baby!" she grins, unzipping its cover to reveal two ears and a brown sweater. "my cat!"

his blue eyes jump between the cat and the girl with a pink bow in her hair, unsure what to do with the revelation that baby is a cat. so who exactly is buying dinner tonight? "your cat? baby is a cat?"

"yes!" she beams, reaching down to scratch the feline's chin, who purrs and closes her eyes at the affection. "my dad got me baby two years ago when i finished in the top 10."

"wait," mick looks down at baby again, "is she wearing a louis vuitton sweater?"

"well, she's a sphynx," she frowns, fixing the sweater and pulling it down a little, "she gets cold sometimes." then she takes a step back with a grin, hands held out as she spins around. "and look! we match!"

"why are you spinning– oh, what's this?" lando grins, noticing the way they were conversing before he even passed through the gantry. "oh! what is that?"

"her cat," mick says through gritted teeth, eyes widening and hitting lando softly on the arm to urge him to just keep his opinions to himself. "baby. that's barbie's cat – baby."

"you named your c-" lando scowls softly, dropping his head low as the girl stops spinning. he turns to mick to hide his face away and blinks. "that's not a cat, mate. that's raw chicken."

mick simply shrugs in response. “i know.”

“she’s a sphynx! isn’t she cute?” the girl giggles, tapping lando on the shoulder. “and we’re matching clothes.”

lando stares at her. “this is baby… a cat? not even a person? not even an actual infant?”

she blinks at him. “infant? i’m 18.”

“what are you guys doing obstructing the paddock entrance and wh– hey, what’s this?” alex approaches with his hands grabbing the straps of his backpack.

“it’s baby,” lando grins, blinking hard at his friend. “a cat.”

“oh, how love– oh,” alex cuts himself off as he hunched over and looks into the carrier. he looks at lando and mick. “i imagined a more fluffy cat.”

“is that raw chicken wearing an lv sweater?” max pops up between mick and lando, furrowing his eyebrows.

“raw– she’s a cat,” she says again, pointing at baby with vindiction. “do you need to start wearing glasses?”

max grins with a small nod. he turns slightly to the men next to her. “why does her cat look something i’d find in the poultry section of the grocery store?”

“probably because it is part of the poultry section of the grocery store,” alex mutters, maintaining his grin to appease the young girl standing in front of them.

“oh, what a lovely looking cat!” charles beams, towering over the stroller wide eyed. “can i pet her?”

“yes! this is baby!” she shrieks excitedly, grabbing charles’s shoulder. she holds her arms out. “look — we’re matching clothes!”

charles’s eyes widen along with his smile. “oh! you have to get me some so i can match with you guys one day!”

“fun’s over,” max grumbles under his breath, waving his hands in the air to dismiss themselves. “i’ll see you and your chicken later.”

she furrows her eyebrows. “she’s a cat!”

— bonus

"a chicken?" oscar blinks, scowling slightly at the older men standing before him. "she has a pet chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick points out with a tired sigh and a roll of his eyes. he turns to max, "you can't keep calling baby a chicken. you'll upset barbie."

max throws his hands in the air. "you should have seen baby! that's not a cat!"

logan tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. "what's a sphynx cat?" he shrugs when he receives stares from them. "i'm not a cat person."

"those hairless cats," oscar explains. "have you got a picture of this said pet chicken?"

"pet chicken?" fernando had been walking by when he suddenly overhears something of a pet chicken which, in theory, is already such an absurd situation. he just has to know what is going on. "who has a pet chicken?"

"barbie."

he takes a step back. "that's some next-level rich people behaviour. not even lance owns a chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick corrects again, looking around to ensure that she's not around to hear the guys making fun of her choice of best friend in the form of a pet. "it doesn't even look like a raw chicken, mate, it's a grey cat."

oscar grins. "so raw chicken that's expired?"

"a sphynx cat!" fernando cheers with a soft clap. "how nice! but isn't that a bit..."

"could be worse, really," mick mutters. "she told me earlier she originally wanted a tiger."

"really? what pulled her away from wanting a tiger?" logan asks.

mick sighs. "she read up that it's not very conducive for wild animals to be domesticated. she does, however, contribute tons of money to wildlife charities monthly."

taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[mrsrookhunt]

What to Expect When Your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula

PART TWO, PART THREE

A continuation (Mini fic Ver.) fic of what I made for Rook, HERE

| Synop.: You and your lab partner make a mistake in your potion, one that comes out looking strangely like it's related to you.. |

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Floyd Leech, Sebek Zigvolt, (Rook Hunt) x MC

Warnings: Suggestive (Floyd), Angst (Sebek), implied light manipulation (Malleus)

Scroll Farther Alert! There's a narration cut for the second part of each fic after the first portion. Don't miss it! Each ends with fluff. Sebek's is long, fair warning.

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You're trying to make a simple transformation potion, aging up a tadpole to a frog, when you add the wrong ingredient, and use one drop too many on the poor tadpole. The result is a child that looks eerily like the two of you...

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Holy-- great sevens, Azul, is that a child??"

He holds it up a foot away from him, equally baffled.

"Don't ask me! You're the one who insisted on using the wrong ingredients!"

"You were the one who picked those--"

"WAHHHHHH--" The baby flails its arms and fusses at your petty squabbles.

You turn your attention back to the small creature, looking disoriented from being held so far away from any solid ground.

Azul's watching too, as the child seems to scold you both with an oddly knowing glare that could kill.

You've seen that glare before--

"Azul, am I crazy, or does that thing look like you??"

"Weh." It motions towards you as Azul looks over it.

"Gracious, so it does. And it looks like you too. Look at its' nose and eyes."

You come closer to look, but the baby seems intent on having you hold it, squirming out of Azul's hands.

"Ahem, I believe the little one wants you--"

He pushes the wiggly baby into your arms, taking the moment to reposition his glasses, which had slid down with nervous sweat.

"I'll go talk to professor Crewel, there is undoubtedly something he can do about this."

Malleus Draconia

"Child of man! What is that you're holding?"

"Um... it was supposed to be a frog...."

Malleus takes it from you, holding it cautiously. The little baby he holds has soft black hair, slit-pupiled eyes the same color as yours, and suspiciously familiar shorter horns. It coos at him and motions to his horns with curious, grabby hands.

"Whatever we did, we must have touched it at the same time, Tsunotarou... Because it looks like a mix of both of us."

He puts it on the back of his neck with his arms up to support the chubby infant as it grabs at his horns.

"Hm. It's quite cute, Child of man. We can keep it in Diasomnia if Ramshackle doesn't have the capacity to care for it."

You stare on in disbelief.

"It's... its a frog with a transformation potion... we can't keep it, Malleus!"

He frowns, taking the infant down from his shoulders and cradling the small bundle to his chest.

"The potion had birch seed in it. The transformation is permanent; so I don't see a reason to get rid of it."

Malleus smiles, tickling its chubby cheeks.

"There's no way it's totally permane-- Wait. Didn't you have me add some of those ingredients? Did you know this would happen?"

Malleus is suspiciously silent.

"Malleu--"

"I'll go ask professor Crewel if there's a reversal." He sighs, handing the baby to you and moping all the way to the desk.

Lilia Vanrouge

"If you wanted a baby, precious, you could've just asked--"

You nearly slap him. So cocky, when there's a baby that looks suspiciously like you and Lilia on the table where a grown frog should be.

"Sevens, Lilia, this is not the time--"

He chuckles.

"In my defense, I told you not to use a sprig of pine."

You splutter, lost for words and flustered. The baby certainly seems to share Lilia's sense of humor, giggling mischievously at your flustered expression.

You pick it up before Lilia can, determined to barge straight into professor Crewel's office if you had to to get an answer on what this thing was.

"Heh, MC, the baby's smiling at you--" Lilia calls from a distance. You look down and find that the baby is indeed wholeheartedly excited that you're paying it attention, reaching its chubby arms up to feel your face and grab your nose.

"Aww.. so cute," You whisper, blowing a stray breath into its face for amusement.

"I heard that!" Lilia shouts from the table. "Don't go getting too attached now. I'm not raising another child, darling."

"Shush! I'm taking it to the professor right now, you have nothing to worry about."

Floyd Leech

"SHRIMPY, CAN WE KEEP IT---"

Floyd is whirling the baby around in excited twirls.

It's a very cute moment, but you're still baffled at the little creature's existence-- since it very much didn't exist about 10 seconds ago.

"Floyd, I'm pretty sure that's just an oversized tadpole..."

He stops in mock offense, thrusting the baby into your face.

"Does this look like a tadpole to you?? Unless you're suggesting that we both look like tadpoles, in which case, I'm taking offense because this baby looks like us."

He puts it down to play with its tiny legs.

"Look, shrimpy! It's going for a walk--" He pauses to think. "A sky walk!!" And continues to make the little one's legs 'walk'.

While Floyd is busy making baby noises to amuse the child, you're panicking. This potion had birch seed-- an ingredient known to make transformation potions permanent, if you remembered correctly.

"Floyd, c'mon, give it here, we need to take this to profess--"

"NOO we'll keep it!!!" Floyd holds the baby tight to his chest. "It's wayyy too cute!"

You pry the baby from him reluctantly.

"We cannot just keep a child, Floyd, it's not an animal--"

"If you take this one I'm just gonna make another one!!" He cries, moving to grab another tadpole from the tank.

"NO NO NO NO FLOYD--"

"Well don't take my little sea-star then!!"

You sigh.

"I'm almost 100% sure this is permanent anyway, but neither of us are in a position to care for this baby. We might as well take it to the professors and see if they can do something. We can't just hide the fact that we accidentally made a baby for our final project anyway---"

He mutters something about 'could've made a baby other ways, but it had to be the boring way', but allows you to go with the little one, who coos in your ear.

You hear a clatter.

"GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE TADPOLE TANK, FLOYD--"

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human, explain. Explain----"

The baby bites his finger, which apparently was pointing at it too close for its liking.

"Ouch--! What do you think you're doing, little tyke? Do you think that just because you're an infant that you have an excuse to bite a retainer of the great Waka-sama??"

The baby looks blankly at him.

"You can't scold a baby, Sebek." You scoffed, bouncing the child on your hip.

"Fine! But you still have to explain why this child has my hair and eyes and....-- isn't that your nose?" He looks momentarily horrified as he comes to the conclusion you came to minutes earlier.

"Oh NO NO NO NO MC THAT IS NOT OUR CHILD, TELL ME THAT CREATURE ISN'T OURS--"

"For goodness sake Sebek you're shouting right in our baby's ear--"

"'OUR'?? THAT IS NOT 'OUR' ANYTHING, THAT IS YOUR POTIONOLOGY MISTAKE AND NOTHING MORE--"

He's babbling nearly incoherently at this point, and you have to stop the baby from attempting to bite him again out of what you can only assume is annoyance.

"...I would NEVER have a child with a lowly, magicless human, this CANNOT get out---"

"waah...wEHHHHHHHH"

Sebek stops talking for a moment, ears ringing.

You, too, are shocked.

"Sebek.. if it's not your child then I have ANOTHER auditory atrocity of a person to avoid on this planet."

"..."

"I'm taking it to professor Crewel."

"I think that's wise."

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You/ your lab partner take the child to professor Crewel, who determines that it is in fact a permanent transformation, and that biologically the baby is as much yours as any other naturally born to the two of you.

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Are... you ok, Azul? You've been staring into space for a... ahem, awhile."

The baby crawls around the the VIP Room of Mostro Lounge, bumping into walls. You suspect it may need glasses.

Surprisingly, the baby seems well-tempered, unless you have the misfortune of holding it the wrong way or otherwise inconveniencing it, to which it seems highly irritated.

However, it was one 'just like your father' comment that sent the already figity Azul into an unresponsive state.

"Was, um.. was that too soon?" You ask tentatively.

"..Yes.. yes, I think it was." He responds distantly.

"Azul, it's gonna be ok. We'll figure it out." You get up from the floor to hold his hand.

He meets your gaze, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Yes, of course we'll be fine, how could we not be? Finances are no issue and we could always hire a babysitter and.... well, it's not that. It's just a lot to take in."

"Today's been wild," You agree softly, gently picking up the baby to put it in his lap. "But I'm here for you."

You lean down to the baby's level.

"We're here for you, little one."

Malleus Draconia

"I still CANNOT believe you knew, Malleus--"

You're still squabbling with him pointlessly, even though the damage is already done. You can honestly say you've well warmed up to the baby, and Malleus seems to be doing worse than you on the details, having apparently very little idea how to care for a child other than playing with it.

"I'm sorry, Child of Man. I didn't know it was permanent," He insists calmly, but you don't quite believe that.

You sigh. He can act clueless as long as he'd like, but the overly exuberant smile on his face while interacting with your child says more than words.

He picked up the baby and put it down on his bed, already having sewn little, special pillows for the baby to sleep comfortably with its horns.

"You better be a good dad, you hear me?" You say, less threatening that you thought it would come out.

He beckons you over to the bed to lay down next to your baby.

"I will, Child of Man, I promise."

Lilia Vanrouge

You knock on his dorm room door, baby on your hip.

"So..um.. bad news, Lilia... it's perman-- Are you having a party?"

He shoos out at least 10 members of Diasomnia.

"I know, dear. Unfortunately I didn't realize what you had done in time to stop you. So I was having a little 'last moments of freedom party'. How sad, and Silver was essentially all grown up now.. Well, what's another 16 years?"

You're speechless. You had kind of forgotten that he was Silver's adoptive father.

"I'm... sorry, Lilia, I should've payed closer attention to the instructions and I screwed up--"

"Hush, it's fine. It's not the end of the world."

He takes the baby from you.

"I already brought in an old cradle and some food for our little one, see?"

He points out an old wooden crib next to his bed.

"Wow... you're.. so prepared, and I haven't even thought about that stuff.."

He smiled at you, nuzzling the baby's cheek a few times simultaneously.

"I'll admit, it got me a little excited. I didn't think an old man like myself would get the chance to raise a child of my own flesh and blood. But never say never, I suppose. You have nothing to worry about, precious. What you don't know, I have already experienced."

"...Thank you for being so understanding, Lilia."

"Of course, dear, after all, we're a family now."

Bonus the one stipulation is that you will not and will not ever share the cooking duties with him. Silver makes you swear by it to avoid his own childhood traumas for his younger siblings.

Floyd Leech

You brace yourself for the inevitable flurry of excitement before knocking on Floyd's door.

"WHERE'S MY LITTLE SEA STARRRRRR~~~~" You hear from the other side of the door before the door flies open. You hand the baby off to Floyd, who's more than ecstatic.

"It's permanent," you sigh, hoping he's listening. "We have to take care of the baby now--"

"WheeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE" Floyd runs back and forth across the small room with the child, making faces all the while.

"Floyd!" You scold, finally breaking his stride.

"Ehh? I hear you, shrimpy, how can I not? It's ok, I have a plan. We'll love this baby with our whole hearts!"

"...That's the plan?"

"I spent two hours thinking of it, do you like it?"

"That child cannot stay here," A smooth voice cuts in. "This room is much too small for the two of us, let alone a third."

"Oh, hey Jade, didn't see ya come in," Floyd remarks casually. "And obviously I've thought of that. The baby will live in Ramshackle, because there's more space. It just needs some touch ups to be babyproof, is all."

"Touch-ups? It needs a whole remodel."

Floyd grins.

"Got an idea, shrimpy. Transfer to Octavinelle! Then the baby can share a room with you and we'll all be nearby!"

"Oh forget it, I'm asking Crowley to help me improve Ramshackle. Until then, you'll have to deal with the living arrangements." You put your hands on your hips and give Jade a look that means you'll raise hell if he doesn't agree to you and Floyd's half-baked plans.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, so long as it was temporary."

"YESSSSS!!!!!"

Floyd's excitement leads to him jumping on you.

"D'ya hear that, Shrimpy? That means you can stay here too. And we'll be one big happy family."

Sebek Zigvolt

"Sebek?" You gently knock on his door, after having been told he'd been doing nothing but pacing around all evening.

"Sebek," you call again, a bit louder.

The door swings open violently.

"What?? Who dare disturb my-- oh. Human." He ushers you into his room swiftly.

"You still have the child? When does it leave?" He asked quickly.

"It doesn't," You said bluntly, putting down the freshly bathed and swaddled bundle onto his bed.

"Don't touch----! Ugh.. Besides... What do you mean, 'it doesn't'? It's leaving, I will not have that thing associated with the Zigvolt name just because of some lowly human's stupid mistakes!"

If you weren't so exhausted, you would be shouting at a decibel rivaling his own.

"Sevens, Sebek, it's permanent, no way around it. I can't go back in time and change this-! You were the one reading off the ingredients anyway, how dare you blame this on me?" You challenge.

"Ah-ahh.. Well, why didn't you check yourself?? Do I need to do everything for you!?" He crossed his arms.

"No, but you do need to do your task, and competently!"

That seemed to shut him up.

"W-whatever. I cannot be a proper retainer to--"

"Fine. Then don't raise the baby at all, I'll take care of it. I never said you had to involved."

"...I.. Human, I didn't say that." His tone seems to soften. You know he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders in his mind but you still find it hard to excuse his poor behavior.

He sits down next to the baby, picking it up at arms length.

"It's cute, just a bit. But I pity it.. it has even less faerie blood than me."

"Is that the heart of this?" You question gently, knowing it's a sore subject.

"Yes, I suppose so.."

"Sebek. Your heritage doesn't define you, and it won't define our child. You are an amazing, devoted person, and you've worked hard to be the person you are, and that's really all that matters. You have no reason to be upset, or worried. We can make this work, I promise. And I promise that I'll there to help you get through this. That is, if you're willing to."

He sighs, taking your hand.

"I fear I am diluting my sullied bloodline more than it already is. The Zigvolt family works with the royal family as their right-hand consults and guards. It's been that way for generations. But who would want a fae so adulterated with human genetics by their side?"

"I don't think that's true. If you really think that's the case, then why is Silver allowed to train as a protector as well? Malleus and Lilia are equally respectful of you both. You don't have to give up your family's title and honor just because of this."

He stiffens, a proud smile on his face.

"You are right, human! I shall not let this get the best of me. I will raise my child to be as dutiful as me!"

You laugh, relieved that he's warming up to the idea of having a family.

You kiss him on the forehead, giving him a hug that encompasses the baby in the middle.

"I'll work hard at being a good father, I swear on it."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

-June 30th, 2023

-Kaori

[twopoppies]

(excuse me for ranting but I'm in an angry phase)

People love to forget that Harry /is/ private with his real private life and Liam was part of that.

The fact is harry rarely post anymore, the last really personal post was, maybe his fl anniversary post or his 1d anniversary post from years ago and you could argue those were verging on generic as well, everyone has an internet voice and thats its just the way he speaks online. (Tbh I'd guess he and Niall only posted because Louis and zayn did, not because they don't care but because they both keep their feelings private) besides the fact people mourn differently; he may still be processing it, he may be the one holding it together for the others he may be blaming himself etc- there's a unending list (I've felt numb and angry since the news dropped, I know something will tip me over and I'll cry but right now that's not where I am and that's okay, it's human)

I'm angry because i remember when people were all over him for not posting about Robin or Jay , he didn't post more than a picture for Matt, he didn't post about fizzy, that didn't mean he didnt mourn, anytime we've seen him after something terrible like this he looked devastated.

People act like social media is the end all for human emotions, if you don't post your feelings you don't feel them, it's like object permanence for infants if I don't see you feeling it -it you don't feel it.

Im just sick these boy have been treated like a commodity since they started and people won't give them the grace to have human reactions.

.

[bruciemilf]

It’s been exactly fifteen years, two days, 4 minutes, and 33.5 seconds since the Wayne murder. Bruce can feel time crawling under his skin, like filth under fingernail, like it’s a breathing, screaming thing.

It’s an endless, infinite supply. And yet, he feels like he’s running out of it.

The details are carved deep; Alfred’s cologne lingering on both his mother’s Stefano Cabbana fur coat, Snow White and fluffy, and his father’s sharp-looking leather jacket.

The gunsmoke. The pearls bleeding on the pavement.

“Your mother wore Armani, actually.”

The Waynes are known to cheat Death, but this is getting ridiculous.

“You’re not here.”

The Riddler, — Edward. His name is Edward Nashton, 29-years-old, forsenic accountant, Bruce’s former classmate at Gotham University.

He’s just a man, not a monster, — gasps, wide eyes confused, “Who are you talking to?”

Thomas watches Bruce’s, — Batman’s hands tighten around the swamp green jacket with mildly tamed amusement. Almost like Bruce is an infant again, shaking on his first steps.

“Pretty sure I am, chum. Also, you might wanna move Eddie here to a coffee table. That shit looks sturdy. YOU were made on one, I think,—“

He cringes, but does as he’s told. Edward’s coffee screeches when Batman slams him across it like loose change, “I’d rather not think about that.”

“Honey, it’s a very romantic story, and I resent Alfred for not talking to you about it. Now go grab a drill and some duct tape. Oh, don’t make that face, — His adrenaline levels are higher than a fucking drop head.”

Bruce doesn’t want to do it. Something just compels him to. Thomas scoffs but Bruce is too focused on the drill biting through bone to notice. Edward doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just under the illusion of it, which seems much crueler.

“You would’ve KNOWN that if you stayed in school. “

“Why are you here?”

“Now that,” His father’s smile is a serpentine, alluring and full thoothed and stained with Maverick cigarettes. His hair is slicked, crowned by red lensed sunglasses.

He looked for a dead man. “Is a smart guy question.”

—

He doesn’t sleep. He can’t.

“Your father was a hundred different things, “ Alfred sighs at him, stitching up his wounds in a tight, secure pattern. Thomas’. The ghost of the hour. “And I never understood any of them.”

Bruce is about to ask more, expand a stream of curiosity, when footsteps bang against the cave’s massive interior.

He knows each child by foot, by volume, by rhythm.

He’d know Jason dead or alive.

He’s about to greet him, choosing to ignore his father’s ghost flirting with an unsuspecting Alfred, when his baby bird beats him to it.

“Why the fuck is your dead mom following me?”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 33

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of hurting an infant; mentions of injuries; mentions of descriptions of breastfeeding; descriptions of postpartum changes; sexual situations; fingering; oral (m receiving)

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the amazing @dixons-sunshine. Happy belated birthday, my love. I’m sorry that it had to be this chapter I dedicated because I am just not confident of it. I never am, if I’m being honest, and most of you know that. It’s just taken so long to update and I’ve even had to ask folks about things I’ve included previously or not included because I can’t remember. I just hope that it was worth the wait even if it’s not top tier.

“Daryl.” Every raging emotion wreaking havoc inside your chest was belied by the calm in which you said his name. Another close call, too close for a baby only a couple of days into the world. Birdie was with Hershel. She was safe. She would be fine. “Daryl.” You took a step toward him, the wind from the window clawing at his clothing and hair. 

No one else was moving or speaking. If you couldn’t see them in your peripheral, you’d have sworn you were alone on that landing with the archer. Daryl remained utterly unmoving, only the heaving of his shoulders indicating that he was even real. Another step, but then you found you couldn’t will your feet to stop moving until you reached him. 

Even in his current state, you knew he would never hurt you. Even if he would, he needed a tether, needed to be brought back from the razor-sharp edge of his anger before it sliced him too deeply. Without another thought, you slid your arms beneath his and molded yourself to his back, your cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

“It’s okay.” You soothed while your fingertips gently massaged into his chest in an attempt to ground him. “They’re gone.” You felt the moment he came back to himself, the minute jerk of his body against yours, the sharp inhale.

“Y/N.” He whispered, barely audible over the biting wind. “Birdie?” His voice cracked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Hershel.” You squeezed a little tighter, anticipating his next question. “I’m alright, Daryl. Everyone’s alright.” His shoulders dropped, breaths slowing to something at least approaching normal. 

You held on until his fingers were prying yours away. When he turned, the rage had faded from those blue pools, replaced with an anguish that made your heart ache. He had murdered people—with good reason, utterly justifiable—and he was in a fierce battle with the guilt that accompanied the actions. It wasn’t the first time he had taken a life, but it was the first time he had done so with such violence, blinded by an anger that it had him quaking so hard that he might have just shaken apart.

“I—” His eyes flickered upward, somewhere over your shoulder and reminded you that you weren’t alone. The others were likely staring, only adding to the archer’s discomfort and shame. Twisting an arm behind your back, you jerked your wrist in a dismissive gesture and heard the shuffling of feet mere seconds later. When his head dropped onto your shoulder, he sighed, the trembling subsided, and you held him.

“You did what was necessary to protect us.” After a moment, he nodded against your skin.

“Need to see ‘er.” His voice was muffled but no less distressed. Turning your face into his hair, you pressed a kiss to his hair.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?”

You had led Daryl to an isolated spot in the warehouse, grabbing his bag from where he had discarded it upon entry. He let you strip him of his poncho and vest, work the buttons open and slide his shirt from his shoulders. The blood and grime that covered him was more than that of the people he had slain. He had fought his way to you—to Birdie—throughout the wilderness, slathered in brain matter and dark liquid. You didn't ask him about the journey. If he wanted you to know, he would tell you. 

The water was cold, the saturated fabric leaving gooseflesh in its wake. His face was first, blue eyes focused on you as you worked. You paused beside his mouth and traced your thumb across his bottom lip. Heavy lids fluttered shut, opening a moment later to reveal a darkness that was perilously close to unbridled desire. Something you could handle later. He made no move to act upon it, Hershel’s strict orders to abstain likely circling in his head just as it was your own. There were other ways to bring him that sort of comfort.

“Y’alright?” He asked, lifting a hand but dropping it a heartbeat later. He could have had walker blood on his fingers, smart enough to resist touching the bruising cut on your forehead. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. He was clearly unconvinced. “I’ll let Hershel check it. Promise.”

Moving on, you cleaned his chest, tilting your head when your hand paused just above a weeping slice in his skin, just below his ribs. “Daryl, were you hit?” You swallowed hard, awaiting his answer regardless of the minor severity of the wound. The skin around it was dirty but free of the darkened blood of walkers. There was little likelihood that he was infected. 

“S’just a graze.” He sniffed hard and averted his eyes. It would need stitched and he knew it, but it wasn’t unusual for him to downplay an injury. Exchanging the flannel square for a fresh one, you mopped away the fresh blood, raising a skeptical brow while staring at him from beneath your lashes. “It’ll keep for now.” Pursing your lips, you mulled it over, narrowing your eyes at the deep injury before you settled upon allowing his deterrence to stand. It continued to ooze, but you moved on regardless. He was still watching you, you could feel his gaze as you carried on with your ministrations. “I love ya.”

Your hand stilled, your breath hitching. It was so sudden and full of conviction, and no doubt brought upon by the traumatic events. That made it no less true. Your free hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking beneath his eye. “I love you, too.” With a tight smile, you leaned forward and granted a chaste kiss, nuzzling your nose against his before continuing to wipe at his chest and stomach, his scars prominent on chilled skin. 

“Wan’cha to be a Dixon for real.” And that did more than make your breath stutter. It stopped it altogether. 

“What?” You managed, sitting straighter. His eyes squinted, full of determination.

“Already made ya a mama. S’ass backwards, but I—y’know what I mean.” Ducking his head, he looked away, cheeks flushed. “S’okay if ya don’t wanna. Ain’t gonna be mad or nothin’.”

You had to refrain from smacking his shoulder. How could he even begin to think you wouldn’t want to be his wife? Then you were forced to remember the examples of love he’d been given growing up, the seeds of uncertainty and inconfidence that had been planted so deeply inside of him and allowed to take root. 

“Of course I’d want it.” You finally replied, likely leaving the silence to fester too long, enough to fill him with a doubt you’d need to strive to correct. “Daryl, is this what you really want?” 

“Would’na asked if it weren’t.” He answered without hesitation, his gaze snapping up to meet yours. There was such a lack of confidence in his eyes. He was far outside his comfort zone, holding on by the skin of his teeth. 

“You didn’t really ask.” You chuckled, needlessly running the cloth down his jaw again. While some would have found the proposal lackluster, to you—it was perfect. So Daryl that you were warmed inside and butterflies had stirred to life deep within your stomach. 

“What? Y’want the one knee an’ ring?” 

“No.” You leaned in for a gentle kiss. He returned it, though his eyes remained open and his brow remained drawn. “The answer is yes, but if you change your mind—”

“Won’t.”

“But if you do—”

“Won’t.”

“Okay, okay.” You held up your palms, surrendering, while the fabric hung from between two fingers on your right hand. “Yes, but we wait a while before we tell anyone, before anything is official.”

“Ain’t really no way to make it official anymore beyond decidin’.” 

He had you there. A wedding would simply be a formality. There were no documents to sign, no certificates. Nothing beyond the vows you’d make and the last name you chose to carry. 

“Still.” I wanna give you an out. He could walk away regardless, at any time after the decision. He could change his mind without attorneys and legal systems. Regardless, you needed him to know that you weren’t trapping him. “Please.”

He was observing you stoically, an obvious refusal on the tip of his tongue. After a moment, he grunted. “Fine.” You kissed him again, a simple peck even as he scowled. 

“Thank you.” 

You continued to clean his skin, eyes flitting over to the steadily seeping wound. Hershel would need to disinfect and stitch it, or you could if he truly preferred. Your partner was likely to be particular with such a small injury. 

Your financè. 

That realization brought upon an unbidden smile, one that Daryl clearly caught and returned with a twitch of his lips. Yet another happiness in such a cruel world. 

Daryl was sitting cross-legged, Birdie’s bottom perched where his legs intersected. Supporting her head with overlapped hands, he was tenderly swaying her, her eyes heavy and attempting to close. She was so obviously milk drunk, having nursed for the second time before you passed her over to her father again. Perhaps it was her desperate cries much earlier in the night that had triggered your milk production or maybe it was simply timing. Either way, you were finding the postpartum cramps less and less painful each time she nursed. 

There was something serene about the archer’s expression, a gratuitous relief with a hint of awe. The latter was almost always present when he looked at his daughter. Smiling softly, you dug through your bag for a fresh sweater and bra, the ones you wore being saturated with breast milk. Lori wasn’t kidding. Your nipples were fountains. 

“I’m gonna go change.” You informed Daryl while grabbing a couple of bra pads. Pushing to your feet, you winced, pinching one eye closed when your head pulsed. Hershel had said it was a mild concussion. Unsurprising. 

“Y/N.” Daryl’s tone was teetering somewhere between a warning and concern. 

“I’m okay.”

He squinted at you, still swaying little Birdie while his eyes dropped to Carol. He jerked his chin toward you and received a nod in return. You slouched in defeat, a chuckle sounding from behind you before her petite hands steered you by your shoulders toward a nearby office. 

Once the door closed, Carol leaned against it, arms wrapped around herself and head turned to afford you some privacy. To your surprise, you appreciated it. Before giving birth, you wouldn’t have cared in the slightest, but pregnancy had altered your body in such a way that you felt foreignly self conscious. Your stomach was soft but still swollen, stretch marks littered across the once smooth skin. It wasn’t until you had removed your sweater and bra, however, that you noticed yet another difference. 

“Jesus, my tits are huge.” You professed, wide eyes studying the way your nipples leaked in the absence of your daughter. 

“It happens.” The other woman responded without missing a beat. “You’ll likely need to pump in between feedings, though we have no way to keep the milk frozen until it’s needed.” 

You bounced on the balls of your feet and watched the mounds of your chest jiggle up and down. “Almost seems like a waste.” 

Carol hummed. “Sometimes it’s necessary. Becoming engorged can be painful. And don’t get me started on clogged milk ducts.”

“What’s that?” You fastened the bra, trying to quickly stuff pads into the cups before the liquid could drench the fabric. 

“I don’t really know how to explain it but the milk won’t come out. There’s usually some swelling, like a knot. It’s painful.” When she no longer heard you moving, she chanced sliding her eyes toward you. Your face surely reflected the fearful anxiousness you were feeling inside. “It’s okay, honey. It’s pretty easily treated.” 

You nodded with a hard swallow. “Anything else I should dread?” Slipping your arms into your sweater, you pulled it over your head and smoothed it in place. 

“Certainly not something to dread, but I noticed Daryl brought back a pump when he got all those supplies.” You remained still and silent. “I’ll show you how to use it. You can pump some milk into a bottle. It’ll allow for Daryl to feed her too.”

That erased any and all negative emotion, replacing it with the mental image of your partner—Birdie nestled in the crook of his elbow—holding a bottle for your little one to get what she needed while he watched her with those wonderstruck eyes. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” You downplayed. Carol saw right through it. 

She smiled, that soft reassuring upturn of her lips that somehow always set your mind at ease. One hand on the doorknob, she reached out for you with the opposite one. “No, it wouldn’t. Now come on before he loses his mind and comes looking for you.”

“We’ve been gone five minutes.” You reasoned. The woman shot you a look. Daryl could sometimes be a little overprotective, it said. Lips pursed, you nodded. “Fair point.”

The warehouse was cold. The old files from the office burned too quickly—Daryl had warned as much—with a smell that had everyone coughing and the archer standing far away with your baby to shield her from the smoke. 

“Told ya.” He had stated matter-of-factly, a large finger gently holding the pacifier in place while Birdie sucked away at it. 

Sleeping bags and blankets were passed around, those who were willing were sleeping in pairs to stave off hyperthermia. You laid on your side, facing Daryl with Birdie swaddled between your bodies. A sleeping bag was zipped around you and your daughter, her little form pressed nearer to you than her father—even though he laid close to ensure his body heat kept the baby warm. Another blanket was draped across the three of you. 

You listened to the dwindling sounds of the walkers outside, their attention drawn elsewhere with the lack of noise within the warehouse. Your eyes were on Daryl’s face. He was actually sleeping, having knocked out almost immediately. He had to be exhausted from the hike to get to you and then the bloodbath that had followed his arrival. 

Glenn was keeping watch, but you still flinched at every groan of the building, every howl of the winter wind outside. The image of little Birdie screaming on that cold floor, a gun aimed at her—it was seared into the back of your eyelids. You couldn’t close your eyes without seeing it, without hearing her. All it would have taken was one twitch of a finger and your innocent baby girl would have—

“Hey.” 

Your eyes snapped open, blurry, unfocused, a familiar blue distorted and moving until your vision settled onto Daryl’s gaze. His brow was drawn inward, mouth set in a thin line. His shoulder shifted just before you felt the rough pads of his fingers against your cheek. His hand cupped your face, calloused skin in such brave contrast to the tender touch. You raised your head just enough to lean into his palm. 

“She’s right here.” He whispered, reading your mind—or more likely, your eyes. “Ain’t gonna let nobody take ‘er from ya, y’hear me?” His eyes were shining but the tears never fell. “From me.” He added, his voice cracking as his bottom lip trembled. With the silence stretching, his touch lingering, you pulled your arm from within the sleeping bag to place your hand over his. 

“I know you won’t.”

He squinted for the briefest of moments, as if studying you, before he turned his hand, squeezed your fingers, and pulled away. 

“Get some sleep.” His hand lowered to brush over Birdie’s hair before retreating entirely. “Gonna be wakin’ up hungry soon.” 

You smiled softly as his eyes closed, knowing that he’d get up with you when Birdie woke up to nurse. How had the powers that be seen fit to grant you Daryl Dixon as the father of your baby? As the man who wanted to spend his life with you? What had you done to deserve such a perfect little family at the end of the world? 

Letting your own eyes close, you saw not the fearful image of your Birdie so cold and scared, but Daryl feeding his daughter her first bottle without a single hint of apprehension in his loving gaze. 

It was cold. 

What in the world had possessed you to try and wipe down while there was no fire to warm the water? Oh. Right. You were still bleeding from the birth and a woman could only take so much before feeling she was a walking brick of iron. 

Using the office, you had placed one of your shirts across the top of the door to cover as much of the glass as you could before undressing to take care of business. Urinating in an empty trashcan felt awkward but it was a you gotta do what you gotta do type situation. Stripped bare, you shivered as you wiped down, removing the sweat and dirt of the last few days before focusing on the main area of concern. 

Using a clean scrap of fabric, you dipped it into the bowl, counting down from three before swiping it through your folds, over your groin and inner thighs. It was a little surprising to feel a twinge of relief when the cold touched the warm, abused area. Carol had told you that healing would be slower with the inability to manage a healthy diet and maintain a sleeping schedule. Not that you didn’t believe her, but the heat you could feel through the cloth, the soreness that remained, only confirmed her words. 

Feeling like a new woman, you tossed the cloth into the bowl and reached for your clothes, your head snapping up when you heard the turn of the knob. Grabbing your sweater, you covered your pubic area while an arm hugged around your chest to shield at least your nipples from the intruder. 

Daryl slid through the barely open door with his head down, lip tucked between his teeth. He was in a button-up, his poncho and vest missing until they could be cleaned. He closed the door quickly and offered you his back, clearing his throat. His arm came up to display two pads for your bra between his fingers.

“Ya, uh—ya forgot these.” 

Amused, you dropped your arm and tossed the sweater onto the desk. “You can turn around, Daryl.” The instant regret slammed into you like a freight train. Yes, he had seen your body before—before you had given birth. He hadn’t seen the soft curve of skin on your belly with its marks and wrinkles. When he actually began to turn, you panicked, flailing and grabbing the sweater up again to cover your abdomen.

Luckily, Daryl’s eyes were immediately drawn to your breasts. 

He only stared for a moment before noticeably swallowing and ducking his head, his cheeks flaring. You would have found it cute if you weren’t currently battling the nausea that accompanied the tight anxiety in your chest. Daryl cleared his throat. 

“They, uh—they look—shit.”

Thankful for the distraction of your fuller chest, you smiled nervously. “It’s the milk. They won’t be like this forever.” He only hummed, apparently finding the spot where the wall met the ceiling fascinating. You gulped and absently wondered how quickly you’d want to take back your next words. “You can touch them if you want.”

The look he gave you was downright comical, as if you had just asked him to do your taxes. 

“Better, uh—yeah, better not.”

While your first thought was to assume rejection, it was quickly tramped down. You knew him better than that. The slight flex of his fingers, pressing in and out of the pads he carried, folding them to nearly a point of unusable. The way he trembled with keeping his eyes on your face. The redness to his cheeks that traveled all the way to his ears. 

“And why’s that?” You sauntered toward him, the sweater still covering your stomach. You knew you’d need to drop it if you were going to do what you planned. When he didn’t answer, you continued forward, pressing yourself against him, backing him up against the door. “Why’s that, Daryl?”

His throat worked around words he was struggling to articulate, but the hardness that was now pressing against the back of the hand over your stomach spoke for him. “Hershel said—I ain’t gonna risk hurtin’ ya.”

With an inward sigh, a reluctance you didn’t allow to reflect on your features, you relieved him of the bra pads, tossing both them and the sweater to the top of the desk behind you. Keeping your body close to his—enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin—you hoped you could hide your imperfections. Keep him occupied with the one thing pregnancy and giving birth had gifted you. 

Wrapping your fingers around one of his wrists, you lifted his hand to your lips, wasting no time in drawing his middle finger into the warm wetness of your mouth. Daryl groaned, a drawn out, deep vibration that you could feel just as much as you heard. With your other hand, you guided his palm to your breast. It was awkward at first, his fingers stiff, his hand unmoving. It wasn’t until you hollowed your cheeks and pulled against his finger that you felt him squeeze. 

Your breasts were sensitive, nipples even more so, but the dull pain only sparked your desire into a simmering heat between your legs. Finding it didn’t immediately cause discomfort, you pressed onward, releasing his digit before seeking out his mouth. His other hand came to rest on your hip, kneading the supple flesh there, nearly dousing your arousal with a downpour of anxiety. 

He eagerly licked into your mouth, chasing your tongue, which you granted him with equal fervor, insecurities forgotten. His hand massaged your chest, milk leaking out between his fingers and giving him pause. He pulled away, breaths heavy from the kiss, staring at his hand curiously. Even with all the blood in his body maintaining his erection, he still managed to have enough to redden his face. 

“What?” You asked, your hands bracketing his neck, thumbs stroking his jaw. 

“S’just—I’m—”

“Curious?” You supplied. You couldn’t fault him when you found yourself wondering the same thing: what did the milk taste like? Pulling your lip between your teeth, your gaze shifted to his hand. Moving slowly, deliberately, you took hold of his wrist and bowed your head, releasing your lip in favor of presenting your tongue. 

You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you as you took the first taste, straightening before you swallowed. 

“It’s—sweet.” You proclaimed quietly. When he made no attempt at moving, you gently tugged his wrist to position his hand just in front of his mouth. “It’s okay, Daryl.”

“S’Birdie’s. Feels—ain’t it wrong?”

Shaking your head, your free hand slid up to his cheek. “No. Not at all.” Of course, he wasn’t convinced. Daryl Dixon was nothing if not suspicious. “You’re not stealing from her by being curious.” His eyes flickered back and forth between you and the milk, the flashlight’s beam resulting in a slick shine across his knuckles. With a pragmatic hesitance, he flicked his tongue over the skin.

“Huh.” He grunted, lowering his hand to your waist. “S’pretty, uh—amazing whatcha do for ‘er.” You were unsure whether or not he had stopped blushing since he had entered the room. He must have realized it as well, what with the way he swiftly hid his face against your shoulder. 

“It’s just biology.” You shrugged. Daryl hummed, his lips then attached to your neck, sucking a bruise before soothing it with his tongue. Your knees nearly buckled, forcing him to hold your weight with an arm around the small of your back. Continuing his expedition across your skin, you focused on the pulse within the apex of your thighs.

With both hands now obtaining a tight hold on your waist, he pulled you fully against him in an almost rough, possessive manner, your hips slapping hard into his. 

“Shit.” He hissed in your ear, his stubble scratching deliciously against your cheek. “Wanna touch ya.”

With a smirk, you pulled back your hips—even as he weakly tried to hold you still—and slammed them against his again, only just biting back a grimace at the cramp that radiated throughout your lower abdomen. “Then touch me.” His fingertips clasped your flesh. It was an almost painful display of restraint. Daryl pressed his back against the door, letting his head thump on the shirt-covered glass. 

“Y’know what Hershel said.” 

“I’m aware.” You tilted your head almost thoughtfully, letting your eyes follow your hand as it smoothed over his clothed chest and stomach, across his belt buckle, and finally came to rest against the bulge in his jeans. You caressed the area in short, slow circles before grabbing it firmly. “He said no intercourse.”

“Mhm.” His response was strained, the tendons pulled taut in his neck, his fingers maintaining a bruising hold on your hips. 

“There’s still outercourse.” You suggested, back to massaging him through the denim. 

“Huh?”

Maybe he really didn’t know, or maybe he was close to cumming in his pants. Either way, his head was pressed into the door and his eyes were closed, right eyebrow ticking rhythmically. “You know. I could give you head. You could—” you allowed the word to drag out while you used your free hand to station his between your legs. When his fingertips brushed your swollen clit, you stopped him from descending further. “Touch me there.”

Daryl was nearly panting. “Ain’t—ain’tcha still—”

“You afraid of a little blood?” You challenged boldly. When his eyes opened, the only blue that remained was a thin ring around dilated pupils. 

“Nah.” His mouth was on yours in an instant, his fingers—abandoned by your guiding hand—now rubbing delicious circles over your clit. You were sore and the pull and give of the flesh at his whim did result in some discomfort, but holy shit, it felt too good to let that be a hindering factor.  

“Oh, god.” You tilted back your head and opened the expanse of your throat for his mouth, your fingers sliding up his arm, across his shoulder, and up to his hair, twisting the digits in the slightly longer strands. Your hips were already rolling, grinding your clit down onto his fingers. “I’m—”

“Already?” Came the chuckle against your collarbone. You groaned, tugging his hair roughly. Your orgasm was building quickly, faster than you had anticipated, definitely faster than you wanted. 

“Shut up and don’t stop.”

Your hand twisted loose when Daryl spun you, your back connecting with his broad chest, his fingers never missing a stroke. Even as your skin grew hotter and your breaths faster, the sudden shame of your body being on full display was quickly working against you. 

“Wait. Wait, wait, stop.” You managed, whining when you felt the immediate absence of his hand. 

“Well, which is it?” The archer asked breathlessly. 

Folding inward, you crossed your arms over your stomach, your back still to Daryl. You were desperate to keep yourself shielded, terrified to witness his repulsion, to risk the grand step the two of you had taken. If he saw you now, what you hadn’t had a chance to correct—was it something you could even fix? Firm? Tighten?—then he wouldn’t want you anymore. Wait. Were you insinuating that Daryl was shallow? Hadn’t this been a conversation before?

“Ya think any louder an’ them walkers are gonna come back.” 

“Sorry, I just—” You could feel his body heat against your back just before his arms wound around you, a palm flat against your sternum gently guiding you to straighten. Your hands remained on your stomach. “I don’t look like—”

“Told ya before that shit don’t matter to me.” His hand remained against your chest as he stepped to the side and maneuvered you back against the door. He was silent as he pulled your hands away from your body, unyielding when you tried to keep them in place. 

“Daryl, it’s—”

“Hush.” His tone was stern, not unkind. Large hands took hold of your waist, his thumbs brushing up and down over the soft swell of your stomach. You watched his face as he took in the state of your midsection, his expression tender. “Ain’t understandin’ why you’re so worried ‘bout it.” 

Your throat worked to allow you to swallow. Why were you worried? Where was the confidence of the woman that had seduced the man in front of you in the woods all those months ago? 

“Because—I don’t know.”

“Ya don’t know.” He repeated quietly. When his lips met yours, you weren’t expecting it. The kiss was unhurried, a warm ember in the cold, cold room. His hands never stopped moving, caressing your stomach, the curves of your breasts, your hips. Yet they always returned to your abdomen, gliding outwards to your sides and back again, feeling the stretched skin manipulate beneath his hands. He never stopped kissing you, mouth moving over your own in slow repetition, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip before dipping inside for the quickest taste. When he pulled away, it was by mere centimeters, his forehead against yours. He was once again breathless. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya, y’hear me?”

There was a moment of hesitance, a split second need to argue your prerogative. In the end, under his steady gaze, the pale glow of the candle making his blue irises dance, you conceded with a nod. 

“You’re perfect.” He whispered, nuzzling his cheek against your temple. The absolute softheartedness that man could display was unparalleled. 

His right hand drifted down, leaving a tingle across your skin in its wake. He cupped your mound and used his ring and index fingers to part your folds, the heat of his middle digit warming your sensitive nub. With a kiss to your jaw, he pulled back, the intensity of his gaze begging one question:

Do you want this? 

“Please.” Your voice came out deep with desire, a rekindled hunger for his touch that you weren’t sure could even be sated that night but you’d take what you could get. 

Your hips jolted at the first touch, a delicate stroke before he moved away only to repeat the action. As he worked you toward orgasm, your hands smoothed over his chest and over his shoulders, your arms winding around his neck to pull him back to you, mouths crashing together. This kiss was fiery, setting your lips and tongue ablaze until you were being consumed by him. 

Daryl used his hold on your waist to tilt your hips out and up, nearly forcing you to stand on the tips of your toes. It hardly mattered, you were too lost in the electricity spiderwebbing from the single finger, the current charging up into the pit of your stomach where it coiled tighter and tighter. 

“Oh god, Daryl.” Each syllable played out against his mouth, his own breathing labored. For the briefest of moments, you wondered if he might cum just from touching you, from watching you make the climb toward the precipice. You could feel yourself—stiff and swollen—pulsing beneath his touch, begging for release that he had no viable reason to deny you. 

“Just let go for me.” He whispered in turn, deep and raspy, his lips massaging yours. “I gotcha.”

That quiet reassurance was enough to snap the flaming cable within you, sending wave after wave of pleasure from where his finger massaged. Your eyes rolled back, your attempts at crying out muffled by his mouth slotting over yours. His hand left your hip to slide around to the small of your back, holding you steady through each surge of ecstasy until you were nothing but pliable limbs and twitching hips. 

Between your legs—as well as Daryl’s hand—would surely be a mess of your desire and blood, but cleaning up was merely an afterthought behind the last waves of your orgasm, the warmth of his body, the strength of his muscles holding you in place, and the soft kisses he was peppering to the skin above your pulse. You were truly loathe to have him anywhere but right where he was. 

With a hum, you pushed against his chest and caught his wrist when he tried to move further away than you were willing to allow. “Let’s get cleaned up, hmm?” You pulled him behind you, guiding him to the desk. He didn’t object when you used a fresh scrap of fabric to wash his hand and yet another to clean yourself. You had barely placed the cloth into the bowl of water before he was cupping your chin, bringing your face closer to his. 

“Ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout what’cha look like. Not with me. Not ever.” You opened your mouth, not even really sure what you were intending to say, but you achieved nothing more than a content sigh against his lips when he closed the distance between you. His thumb was tracing the line of your jaw, back and forth, when he pulled back and used the light hold on your chin to tilt your face down and kiss your forehead. 

You were left blinking away tears while he traipsed to the door. “Wait.” He turned to regard you with an arched brow, his eyes following your movements as you sauntered toward him with a newfound confidence for which you had every intention of thanking him. Splayed fingers on his chest pushed him flush against the door before both hands began working at his belt. “Your turn.”

“Y’ain’t gotta—fuck.” 

Your hand had already slipped into his jeans, past his underwear, and begun to stroke him. He was still half hard, making it easy to bring him to a state of fully aroused. “I wish we could.” You teased in a sultry tone, your lips against his neck. 

He was tense beneath your mouth, stressed and more than a little riled up, something you hoped to remedy. Dropping to your knees, you didn’t allow him time to think, even a second to protest, before freeing him only to draw his cock into your mouth. 

The sound he made was dangerously close to a whimper. His right hand came to rest on the back of your head, heavy but immobile. With half of his length weighing on your tongue, you swirled the muscle around his shaft, placing pressure on the vein running beneath while pushing your head forward to draw him fully inside. Your nose met the skin above the base, the impulse to gag strong and forcing you to pull back while still keeping him engulfed within the wet heat of your mouth. 

“Jesus fuck.” His fingers curled into your hair, hand trembling in denial of the need to guide you. The wet sounds of debauchery filled the small office as you repeated the action, slowly edging him toward an orgasm that—if the already present twitch and pulse of his cock was any indication—wouldn’t take long to achieve. 

With fluid and deliberate movements, your hand slipped beneath his shirt and slid over his stomach—his muscles twitching—and up to his chest. When your nails scraped downward, he moaned, low and deep. His hips jerked on reflex, causing you to gag which only ended in the same reaction. Your hand stopped when you felt the raised skin of a scar, fingers straightening so that your touch was gentle over marks left gifted out of anger and malice. You had long ago vowed to never grant those areas anything less than tenderness. 

Lifting your hand away from his skin, you used both to grip his denim clad thighs and slid them around to squeeze his buttocks, using that hold to push him toward you and draw him back, directing him to use your mouth for his pleasure. 

And still he didn’t. 

You should have known he wouldn’t, always afraid of hurting you, of pushing you past your limits. Had your mouth not been full of him, you would have smiled. Instead, you kept one hand on his ass while the other wrapped around what you could not easily take. Your lips chased your fingers back and forth, your head bobbing. 

“Y/N.” He growled from above, his grip in your hair tightening enough to make your scalp sing. Still, he merely held on while his other hand joined the first. Between wet slurps and quiet grunts, the room was filled with filth and sin and the scent of sweat and sex. 

Daryl was hanging on by a thread. 

Your efforts doubled, your cheeks hollowed and pace quickened. His breaths were heavy, near wheezing, with barely contained moans, his head pressed back into the door, eyes tightly closed and lips minisculary parted. 

“M’—m’gonna—”

You hummed around him, the only warning you received before he spilled against the back of your throat was the tensing of his muscles beneath your hand. A string of expletives left his mouth in a rush of breath, his body bowing over you while he finally allowed his hands a purpose of holding you in place while his hips thrust to prolong the intense waves of pleasure. 

As he came back to himself, he quickly released you, watching you pull yourself off of him with a hard swallow and deep inhale. Daryl was trembling, his knees slightly bent. Sensing he was barely maintaining his footing, you rose and wiggled your arms around his torso, providing him support while simultaneously laying your head against his chest to hear his heart gallop. 

After a moment, you felt his cheek rest against your temple, a deep breath shuddering beneath your cheek. 

“You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

“Nah,” you laughed. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d use a knife.” He straightened, forcing you to pull back and look at him. He was sweating while you were growing colder in your bare state, your chilled hands tucking him away and doing up his pants. 

He opened his mouth, likely a retort on his tongue, when there came a knock on the door. Dear god, had someone heard?

“Someone’s getting cranky out here.” Carol’s voice was quiet, amused, and close to the door. 

Daryl gulped, his eyes wide before he settled into stoicism and jerked his chin toward the desk. “Finish up, I got ‘er.”

You offered him a nod and stepped back enough for him to open the door and slip out. You grabbed your sweater and went back to the door, listening for what you could possibly hear on the other side. 

“Can’t let’cha mama an’ ol’ man have a break, kid?” Daryl asked quietly, still close to the door. You could hear Birdie’s little squeaks as she likely settled into her father’s arms.

“She wants to be an only child for at least a year, Daryl.” Carol’s voice was further away. 

“Th’fuck? How’d—” The archer exclaimed. 

“I hear everything. I mean everything.”

Your face reddened and you stepped away from the door, knowing full well that a teasing was awaiting upon your return. Pulling on your bra, you situated the pads and then continued to dress. The mess of cloths and water were dumped into the trashcan. With an indignant pout, you reached for the doorknob. 

“I swear that woman has a built in sex alert system.” You grumbled on your way out, closing the door behind you.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I have drawn so much baby Matt and Al recently god damn...

Is it a baby fever of do am I just fascinated by the different experiences of these two brothers. Who knows. Anyway,

For Alfred, I headcanon Arthur to have been very hands on in regard to raising his son. Very present but also very much teaching him how to be self reliant and, for the lack of better wording, independent. As a child, Alfred was wery inquisitive and curious. Arthur encouraged that, be it consciously or subconsiously. Arthur would play a huge role in Alfreds development; even when sickness struck young Alfred, Arthur was the one taking charge and staying up with him, making sure his son gets better. During the worst times, Arthur even dismissed all maids and even his sons governess out of frustration. Bc who could ever take better care of his own son than he himself. I have a habit of writing that Arthur does not consider himself a good man, but I do think he is a good father. At least to his firstborn.

This is a sort of continuation of the ask about Arthurs full on menty breaky after the constant infant death Alfred endured in his earliest days (If I find the ask I'll link it). I just wanted Arthur tired and beaten down finding peace in sleep. While at the same time, while he sleeps, Alfreds fever drops.

Matt didn't get the same parenting from François. Arthur may be a good father, but I don't think François was. At least not affectionate enough. He did buy his son presents and even made sure he got the best education. However, was that something he did for Matt or was he expected to do that as a pompous aristocrat? Even when sick, Matthew didn't make much noise. He only let people know how bad it was when he was truly ill and crossing the border of life and death. Though, the person holding Matt and making sure he survived was his governess, Marie. François would stay up and would sent for the doctors, but it was Marie who understood what Matthew needed and wanted at any given moment. She stayed with him for almost 40 years but, due to nations having a much longer childhood, died without being remembered by the boy she cared for and loved so very much.

The person who cared most for Matthew is a person he does not remember.

(I wanna elaborate on Marie some more I love her and she deserves it lol)

Anyway, sorry for the baby spamming I promise to go back to drawing slutty middle aged men in war scenarios ASAP

[reiderwriter]

hi i love your writing

could you do something with reid loving that reader is pregnant. fluff or smut or both

A/N Hello! Thanks for the request! Dad!Spencer is the cutest thing on the planet so this is some unapologetic fluff. And now I have baby fever.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, idiots in love. Loosely based on Haley and Hotch's conversation in 1x1. Very fluffy and probably very cheesy and sentimental too... Sorry, you give me girl dad Spencer and suddenly there isn't an impure thought in my head, I just want to lovingly stare at him like I'm the dead wife in an action movie montage.

My requests are open, check out my masterlist for more 🌸

“Okay, what about Amelia?”

“No, Amelia Dyer, Victorian serial killer. She killed multiple infants over a thirty-year period.”

“Okay, okay, how about, Myra?”

“Myra Hindley, she and her partner Ian Brady abducted and killed five children and teens in the early sixties.”

“God, not that then. There can’t be a psychopathic murderer called Belle, right?”

“You’re making this too easy for me, y’know. Belle Gunness, Hell’s Belle, she’s one of the most prolific female serial killers of all time, even 100 years after her supposed death. It’s fascinating, you know, people think that she actually faked her death - when the doctor who performed the postmortem testified, he noted that the cadaver was about five inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than Gunness supposedly was….” You raise a single eyebrow at your wonderful husband, and he immediately shuts up.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” He smiled down at you as you sat curled up as much as you could in your favorite spot on the couch, the cosiest part of your shared apartment. You smiled back up at him as he leaned down for a kiss and you gladly craned your neck up in response, meeting his lips for a sweet moment.

“Hotch was right you know,” you joked when the two of you parted. “All of the best baby names have been taken by serial killers.”

“Yeah, you’d think with the ratio of female to male serial killers, a girl would be easier to name.” He leans down to kiss you again before falling into a crouch next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and placing his hand on your stomach.

“How big did you say our little girl is now?”

“Y/N, you asked me that half an hour ago. I know pregnancy messes with your brain a bit, but if you’re that bad we’re going to have to get you back to Dr Patel and see if you’re doing okay.” He was joking of course, but you showed him your little pout anyway, knowing that he loved seeing the silly expression on your face.

“Humor me, Doctor.” He strokes your stomach and moves away, but not too far away, taking up right next to you on the couch, and pulling your legs over his lap.

“At five months, she’s roughly 10 inches long with a weight of about 0.5-1 pound. But that ‘How Big is My Baby’ book would say that she’s roughly one banana in length.” You giggled up at him and he grabbed your hand and just held it, content to have you in his arms in any way, big or small.

“I can’t believe it’s been five months already,” you giggle as he presses another kiss to your hand.

“I get it. It doesn’t feel quite real yet to me, either. I thought for so long that fatherhood just wasn’t in my future, but you’re the gift that keeps on giving I guess. I don't know what I did to deserve you.” Even if the words weren’t so sweet, with all of the hormones, you would’ve started crying at anything. Or at least that’s what you’re going to tell him when he sees the small tears threatening to drop into enormous loving sobs.

“Spencer Reid, I am not a gift. I am simply the woman with the correct combination of sense and foolish luck that got to marry you.” He’d done this before, and you were used to his small habit of self-deprecating talk, but after a year of marriage and three years of dating before that, you’d managed to work him down to the occasional comment.

“Don’t try to argue about this, I’m definitely the one benefitting the most from the situation right now,” he joked with you, and you could see the genuine adoration shining from behind his eyes. It was a little spark that not many got to see, a glimpse of true happiness in someone usually so reserved.

“Spencer, you’ve given me foot rubs everyday this week, you’ve read more pregnancy and parenting books than every OBGYN and midwife in the area combined, and you’ve somehow attended more of my clinical check-ups than me, and I’m the one whose pregnant.”

“And you’re growing our child inside of you, which is itself more impressive than anything I could ever do with a book and some modern acts of chivalry.”

“Yeah, tell your boss that. I think the only thing keeping Emily from pulling her hair out over your constant absences is that she thinks she’s competing for the title of godmother. She thinks Penelope and JJ are trying to corrupt me with parenting advice and all those baby clothes Pen keeps bringing over.”

“She’s going to be crushed when she remembers we’re not religious, right?”

“Devastated,” the two of you shared a laugh on the couch, and it quickly devolved into a giggle fit after Spencer leaned over and tickled your side. You jolted away from his touch, but he was on you again, attacking your sides with small caresses, and you were gasping for breath between laughs.

“Spence stop- ahh!” Your squeals stopped as you cried out in shock. It was small but you felt something tap against your stomach. Spencer stopped immediately upon seeing your expression change, and a serious look settled on him as he assessed you for any damage.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you in pain anywhere, is the baby okay?” He shot out the questions rapidly, one after the other, barely leaving space to catch his own breath from the laughter of earlier.

It happened again and you put a hand to your stomach, finally realising what’s going on.

“I think I just felt her kick. Spencer, I think I just felt the baby kick.” You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as much as you couldn’t help the tear that dropped from your eye as your hand rested against your belly again, scared to move for fear that the baby wouldn’t communicate with you again.

“What? Now? Can I- Can I try and feel it, too?” His hands hesitated at first but when you enthusiastically nodded and used your other hand to put him close to yours, you could feel his eagerness to feel the small kicks of your daughter as well.

Almost as if she was waiting for him, as soon as his hand was in the right position, your little girl kicked again, almost as if screaming “I’m here mommy and daddy,” for the two of you to hear.

“I think she’s trying to tell us not to have fun without her,” Reid whispered in your ear, kissing your tear streaked cheek, and using his free hand to rub them away from the other side of your face.

“I am so thankful everyday for this gift you have given me. And for the record, the gift isn’t the baby. The gift is the overwhelming happiness you bring to my life, and the beauty you make me see in this world. The fact that you’re going to be the mother of my child gives me the confidence to get up and go to work every morning because I know that there is joy and there is kindness and there are beautiful people in this world, and you are one, and she will be, too.”

His attempts to dry your tears are now completely vanquished as you let your emotions run wild, but you almost laugh when you realise that his eyes are just as glassy as yours, and you both sit there, overwhelmed by the pure, unadulterated joy that a small kick from a child who has yet to be given a name has bought you.

[shorthaltsjester]

trying not to set myself up to start spiralling back into c2 (i’m always like. a slight gust of wind away from it if i’m being honest) but i was confirming a quote from ep 141 and in general the conversation between fjord and vandran makes me insane, it’s truly some of my favourite rp from travis across all the campaigns, it has one of my personal top 5 cr Thematic™ quotes when fjord tells vandran “you showed me kindness, and love, and honour, and it meant the world to me.”, it has lore drops about vandran and avantika and uk’otoa, it has a silly sweet interaction of jester shouting out a greeting to vandran and fjord going “she’s wonderful.” and vandran saying “she’s a handful.” and fjord agreeing only for vandran to add “she’s perfect for you.” but beyond all that wonderfulnesss packaged into a mere 30 minutes, i am once again struck by how fjord and imogen are very interesting foils in terms of like. the absence of a parental figure who has knowledge of the curse you bear that your own curiosity for has led you through your recent life.

especially with (relatively) more recent imogen literally pretending to be her mother for utility versus fjord who took on aspects of vandran hoping to feel more assured in himself (featuring nightmares sponsored by a malevolent being intricately tied to said missing parental figure and occasionally featuring their presence). like both imogen and fjord start off their campaigns being like I Would Like Answers About My Powers (at any cost implied by the apparent possibility both of them had early on to be swayed away from the Good™ side) only for it to become clearer to them that the person who might have the most answers for their questions was not only their parental figure but was a parental figure they assumed dead only for that assumption to be undermined. and the fact that vandran and fjord stay apart so long because fjord is scared and busy and hadn’t even considered that vandran could’ve survived and because vandran made the same assumption that fjord hadn’t lived — but who also had a sense of hope that maybe that meant the cycle of violence had ended only to be met again with a fjord who tells him “despite your best efforts, your curse is now mine.” versus imogen and liliana who stay apart so long because of liliana’s choices, her insistence that imogen stay away from her even when imogen made it clear over and over that she wouldn’t stop without some answers or some clarity. the fact that fjord is reunited with his father figure and says i have so many questions and vandran gives him answers, even hard ones. that imogen has to beg just for her mother to actually hear her and not just the paternalistic idea of an infant she left behind decades ago. even fjord asking vandran if he wants to leave with them, and vandran making in clear he doesn’t intend on staying with them long term but whose happy to join them. versus imogen who begs her mother for help and to come with them and who ultimately can’t trust her to be telling the truth when liliana offers to come. i just think they should meet. i am always vying for a fjord cameo just because he’s my best friend but i think they should meet.

[certainlynotasimp]

Okay, first of all, how are you? Hope you’re doing well! Drink plenty of water, stay hydrated- Second off, your Sunny fics? *chef’s kiss* so mainly, what if anybody made Sunny cry and Miguel had to find out about it? And Sunny’s trying not to make it seem like a big deal in order to keep Miguel from, you know, absolutely obliterating anyone.

Come on, Baby, Cry.

((Miguel O' Hara X Female! Reader))

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much for the compliment. All my readers? *Extra chef's kisses* I am very hydrated and I got so excited to write this for you and to add some angsty content lol. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if you are disappointed or if you love it.

A/N: I also wanna address two things before I post this too. 1) thank you so much to the anon who asked me to include translations for the Spanish phrases as I was honestly not thinking about doing that. I will do better to include the translations at the end of the fics. 2) There are gonna be some triggering topics explored in this one-shot so if you don't want to hear about near injuries to children or child loss, then I understand if you don't want to read it. Feel free to enjoy my other fanfics and here's the post where you can stay notified on happier Sunny and Miggy fanfics.

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely using (Y/N) ((Sunny is just their nickname, not their actual name.)), Female pronouns, PTSD, Mentions of Child Loss, Endangerment of a Child ((No children were actually hurt, just traumatized)), Trauma, Comforting, Fluff, Angry Miguel, and Google Translate Spanish.

The room fills with squeals and giggles as the chase between the chubby toddler and the jumping spider. Mayday swings her little self around the corridor as the young woman follows behind amused by how agile the little tyke was. 

‘Maybe she’ll make a good sidekick in the future.’ The smiling woman muses in her mind before a bloody image flashes in her mind. Shaking her head, she clears the idea out of her mind as Mayday reaches an open window. 

Her quick scream of horror as she accidentally swings herself out of the window causes the woman’s blood to run cold as she flings herself out of the window after her. “MAYDAY!”

The adrenaline coming from her heightened fear causes the whole thing to appear to be trapped in time as the spider woman falls with the screeching infant falling inches away. Tears clouded her vision as she shoots out her webbing to the pillars around them as the images of flames lick at her eyes. 

So many flames, and too many buildings at once. Screams and pleas from below as she tries to be there. They didn’t matter to her, not at that moment. The only one who mattered was him. Did he scream like that too or did he not even feel it?

Using her webbing, she quickly creates a hammock for Mayday to fall on a few feet from the ground, thankfully trapping the wailing infant so she can’t escape. Unfortunately, reality doesn’t set in time for the spider as she slams into the titanium flooring below, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Many spidermen gathered as they heard the commotion, but she could only focus her blurry vision above her as she tries to regain her sight. A familiar blur of bright pink swings up and grabs the ball of ginger hair in a muddled mess of cries. He quickly drops down to where the disoriented woman was splayed out below with the whimpering infant in his arms.

“Hey, Sunny, you alright?” Peter calls his friend. The damage didn’t look bad from the outside, but he was sure she had some nasty concussion with how she was looking at him.

Hobie crouches down beside the crumbled girl and carefully lifts her head up with one hand. “Oi, Sunshine, you there?” He mutters as he looks into her eyes. He holds up his hand and makes three fingers pop up. “How many fingers do you see, love?”

With a cough, the woman croaks out, “Three?” Her eyes begin to focus as her enhanced healing works out the stars in her vision. With the help of Hobie and Peter, she stands up with a whimper at the feeling of her shattered ribs forming back together. “Damn, I forgot that falling several feet actually hurt.” She attempts to joke despite her wheezing breath. The crowd around them laughs as Peter sighs in relief.

“Thank god, you’re alright.” Peter mourns as a glint of regret shines in his eyes. “I’m sorry for all this, Sunny. I shouldn’t have let her bring the web shooter here. She almost swings herself out of the window all the time and MJ told me that one day I won’t be there to help the next time it happens.” Mayday’s cries end as she sees her favorite play partner up and well as she shows off her gummy smile.

“Well, luckily I was here to save the day.” The disoriented spider muses as she returns the infant’s smile as the men chuckle. The crowd dissipates leaving the injured spider with her two friends.

“I’m still really sorry, P. I got distracted and didn’t see that the window was open.” She winces as she blames herself for being so neglectful.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. This little rascal will probably send me to an early grave with all the mischief she causes.” Peter jokes as he tickles his now roaming daughter, chuckling at her excited squeals.

“Good thing you don’t have a kid, Sunny.” Hobie chuckles. “You would lose them in a heartbeat.”

The bright atmosphere shatters as the woman abruptly pulls away from her friends. The men look at her confused until they saw the look in her eyes. The normal warm and inviting gaze that they all thrived under was gone, only a dark void was staring back at them. Their light now shining in hurt and sadness as memories cloud her mind. Her lip trembles in a tight line as tears begin to roll down her face. 

Hobie looks confused at the sudden shift, but Peter realizes something as he looked at his trembling friend. Her eyes burned with tears as they locked with his. She had a haunted look about her. It's a look only parents can ever understand and fear. The look Peter himself almost experienced. “Hey,(y-” Before Peter can comfort her, she activates her mask and turns invisible before running off, her muffled sobs leaving them speechless.

Hobie groans as he realizes two things. One, he just made the sweetest person in the world cry. And Two,...

Miguel is gonna kill him.

~~~~~~~

The warm glow of the portal illuminates the surveillance room as the blue spider steps out covered in a musty yellow goo. Lyla smirks as she observes the little chucks slipping onto the ground as Miguel attempts to dust off the slime from his large shoulders.

“Was your mission successful, boss?” The assistant snarks as she sends out a little robot to follow the annoyed Spiderman. The little bug-like contraption eagerly swallows up the disgusting mess Miguel left as he walks up to the platform. “The anomaly was captured and disposed of. Next time, warn me if William Baker is made of anything except sand.” He grumbles as the sound of the little robot annoyed him even more. 

“I’ll make a note of that.” The AI giggles as she downloads the mission info from Miguel’s gizmo. “Also ‘Miss Sunshine’ is here and she doesn’t seem too happy.” She says before fading out.

Miguel’s eyes widen upon hearing that his sunny partner was upset. She was never upset. Never. With concern eating away at him, Miguel shoots out a web and swings himself to the platform above. He lands softly as he sees the scene in front of him.

His sunshine sat in his usual seat in front of the monitor. Her costume was dirty with a chest compression brace wrapped around her ribs as her choked sobs wheeze out of her. Her mask was off as her head rested against the ice pack in her hand, her back leaned forward as her attention was focused on the image before her.

He already knew what was on the screen.

He knew that file name by heart just like how he knows Gabriella’s.

File SW-0001425

World 16457-0

Spider-Woman- (Y/N) (L/N)

Age of infection- 23

Occupation- Intern Medical Research Assistant in the Genetics Department of { REDACTED } working under Dr. {REDACTED}

Sacrifice: Ben (L/N), age 4, Son of (Y/N) (L/N), 1 year into being Spiderwoman

Cause of death: Blunt Force trauma and Smoke inhalation caused by a multi-location attack caused by { REDACTED}

Status of Universe: DESTROYED

On the screen, the laughing face of a younger Sunny shines as a chubby cheek of a baby boy with dark curls smooshes into hers. The faint sound of a child mimicking the smooch of a kiss can be heard as the overexaggerated gasp of the woman causes the toddler to squeal. “That was such a sweet kiss, Benny. Can mommy have another one?” The sweet voice soured the air as the sobbing woman mournfully watches her baby boy.

The baby she failed.

Miguel approaches behind her and slowly takes the mouse from her weak grasp. The broken woman sighs as she realizes her miggy is here with her now, but doesn’t turn to look at him as he pauses the video. Her baby’s matching eyes stare right back at her before Miguel turns the chair around to face him as his mask disintegrates. His eyes glow red under the light of the monitors as he searched her sore eyes. Her face was red with a noticeable bruise along the left side of her face. Tears and snot crusted over her soft features as her lips remained turned into a trembling whisper. Her pupil shone in self-loathing and searching for his comfort. He could tell that this episode isn’t just one of her low days, something happened.

Something happened and he wasn’t here to stop it.

Miguel closes his eyes as his hand caresses her cheek. The warmth of her flushing face nuzzling into his palm allowed him to ground his rage as he focuses his gaze back onto his beloved.

“Mi luz, ¿qué pasó?” He seethes as he looks deep into her eyes. 

She shakes her head as she tries to avoid looking into his concerned ruby gaze. The glass bridge was already cracked as she internally debated with sobbing everything that happened into his warm embrace or to protect her friend from the wrath she knows Miguel will unleash if he knows what was said. The warmth of his other palm cupping her cheek, guiding her to a wandering eye to look at his frowning face nearly broke her.

“It was nothing, Miggy…”She whispered as her voice trembled again. She tried to control her eyes from unknowingly confessing while she tries to bite the wobbling pout. “It was an accident…”

“What.” Miguel runs his thumb under her abused mouth as a piece of her disheveled hair was swept back. “Happened?” His demand is punctuated as he holds her in his stare. His eyes burned with barely contained fury and protectiveness as he studied her reactions. “Odio verte como la suya, mi amor.” He admits with a sigh.

Leaning forward, Miguel places a firm kiss on her forehead as his beloved’s breath shudders at his touch. The gentle heat under his touch left her trembling as the glass began to crack. “Let me ease your pain…” He whispers as he trails his kisses down to her eyelids. “These eyes are meant to be filled with happiness, not sorrow…” The cracks deepen as he gently kisses her nose. “I can’t undo what has happened…” The corners of her lips were caressed by his as his nose brushed against her cheeks causing her eyes to meet his mirrors. Her sorrow and helplessness are reflected in his ruby eyes as he kneels on the ground between her legs. A silent plea breaks the resolve she built as he mutters into her ear.

“Please, mi sol, at least let me feel your pain too…It's me and you against the universe remember…Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo.” He begs as the tension shatters. 

With her arms snaking around his shoulders, the little spider confesses all that happened hours prior into his ear. Each detail, each scar, burned into his mind as she clung to his neck and hair. His inferno of rage almost imploded until he looked back into her eyes again. The relief of letting go of all of her troubles made her face look years younger as she looked at him with her big vulnerable eyes. 

Hobie will have to wait. His love needed him now.

In a silent nod, Miguel wrapped her weak legs around his waist before he stood up. Feeling her snuggling into his throat, he carries her toward her room down the hallway while the annoying robot follows them to clean up the mess. As he enters the room, he releases some of his anger by smashing the bug with his foot. 

“What was that, Miggy?” She croaks as she weakly tries to look over his shoulder.

“Just a bug,” He sighs as he approaches her dresser and grabs his spare set of clothes from his drawer. “You want your clothes or mine?”

“Yours…” She shyly admits as he feels the heat returning to the cheek on his neck. 

“Muy bien, niña bonita. Lo que quieras.” He whispers as he grabs another set of clothes that he knows will swallow her. With that, he carries them into her personal bathroom and spent the night slowly bringing back his sunshine.

~~~~~~~~

A deep scream rings out through the Lobby as they see a flash of blue fury tackles the residential metal head into the ground. Peter hurries to save his colleague along with a few other Spidermen as Mayday laughs at the anarchist getting thrashed by the clawed man spewing Hispanic curses at him.

~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Mi luz, ¿qué pasó? - My light, what happened?

mi sol - my sun

Por favor no me dejes solo ... No quiero perderte de nuevo. -Please don't leave me alone...I don't want to lose you again

~~~~~~~

taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

@chaoticevilbakugo

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@hoshhoshh

@isaidoop

@pheroineux

@rosiepetalss

@aniya7

[mavrintarou]

Lord Gojo Satoru [3 - end]

Thank you for hanging on Gojo's ship!

Warning: smut & fluff... daddy Gojo

Part two

.

Satoru glared at the two sleeping angelic faces beside him. His dearest Y/n slept peacefully next to the troublesome infant who had brought nothing but chaos since her unwelcome arrival.

The first night, Satoru had to stand his ground and refuse Y/n’s request to allow the infant to stay with them. Her justification was insufficient to allow him to agree, even her puppy eyes couldn’t convince him to agree.

“Ah, ‘Toru,” Y/n whimpered, legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

Satoru was close and nearly brought them to their orgasm when a high-pitched cry interrupted.

Y/n was deeply engrossed in their lovemaking and suddenly flinched, mood immediately changed in a matter of seconds as soon as she heard the baby's cries. Her attention was no longer on him as her legs unwrapped around his waist. “Satoru…” She pushed against his chest.

He groaned, in irritation, trying not to lose his momentum but unfortunately, his cock became limp. He dropped his weight onto Y/n, burying his face against her neck. “Fucken kid…”

“Satoru,” Y/n patted his shoulder, “please, let me go to her, she is probably missing her mother.”

“Yes, and it’s not you,” those words came out harsher than he meant, but it was honest. He lifts himself onto his elbow and sighs before getting off her. He slipped his flaccid cock out and rolled off of her, turning his back towards her. “Go. If you care so much about her, go.”

He heard rustling and closed his eyes tightly, expecting her to hurry towards the baby she had given all her attention to, tossing him aside like an old, used toy.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open when he felt warmth press against his back and her arm wrapping around his waist. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t see her face, which was buried against his back.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Sighing, Satoru rests his hand over hers, squeezing it. “I’m sorry too.”

She shook her head, “no, don’t be. You are right. I am not her mother, the maids are perfectly capable of handling her.”

Turning around, he maneuvered her into his arm and tilted her chin upward. He gazed into her lovely hazel eyes. He hopes his future children will inherit their mother’s beautiful eyes when they have their children.

“I love you,” Y/n whispers, “I am sorry if I made you feel like you don’t matter.” She understood Satoru well, knowing how effortlessly it took for him to feel like a secondary priority.

 “I’m just… not used to sharing you…” he pouted, feeling childish about his behavior. “Especially having to share you with this baby we have no idea about.”

“I understand,” she smiled pressing a kiss to his chin. “I will be more mindful and remember not to make you feel like you do not matter,” she paused, “but…” her voice choked, “you didn’t finish earlier?”

Reaching in between them, she wrapped her fist around his cock, feeling it jerk against her touch. Instantly, it became harder by the second.  

Satoru’s face scrunched up as he let out a shaky breath. He groaned, ready to burst on her hand. It didn’t help when her thumb brushed lightly over the tip, teasing him to no end.

Suddenly, he is flipped onto his back and his eyes widen when Y/n shifts until her mouth hovered over the tip of his cock. “Y/n, what –“ the rest of his sentence cut off the moment her mouth replaced her thumb. Her tongue swirled against the tip, warm and soft against the most sensitive part of him.

“If you don’t – if you don’t stop… I’ll cum in your mouth,” he uttered, shifting onto his elbows. He cannot deny that he has never wondered what her mouth would feel like and promised he would ease her into new adventures. Yet, here she was, surprising him.

Y/n licked along the length of his cock before asking, “you don’t want to?”

“I do and I don’t…”

Her head tilted and she grinned, “which one is it, Satoru?”

He pondered before saying, “your mouth… let me cum in your mouth – please…”

Y/n went to work, taking his cock into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. She gagged but continued to please her husband and meet his needs.

“Y/n…” Satoru groaned, his hips jutting and rolling. “Please… please…”

Y/n moaned when warm and salty fluids shot down her throat. She quickly swallowed as much as she could before pulling away. His cum dribbled from the corner of her lips as some shot at her face.

Satoru was not sorry, the sight before him was erotic seeing cum splattered over his sweet wife’s face.

He pulled her on top of him and licked the streaks of cum on her cheek before flipping her beneath him. His hands were quick to push her thighs open and he pushed his semi-erect cock into her, which instantly harden.

She whimpered his name, a sound that delighted his ears.

He rocked his hips in slow and deep thrusts. Her name falls from his lips in breathless whispers, “I love you. I love you so fucken much…”

When he woke up, he was alone but had faint memories of Y/n whispering his name and telling him she would check on the baby. That must have been an hour ago.

Groaning, he rolled over to her side of the bed, pulled her pillow into his embrace, and inhaled her faint scent. She likely wasn’t aware that in such a short time, she had left her scent all over their home, providing him with comfort in every way.

.

Satoru’s expression is hard and cold as his men report to him.

“The baby is your half-sibling and birthed by the woman who was your father’s last mistress. She must have known about your execution order and hidden the baby with her sister who wanted no responsibility for the baby after using up all the funds to pay her to raise the child as well as using up the funds for the child.” He looks over at the woman kneeling before Lord Gojo, “which is why she left the baby at the entrance gate.”

“My sister was a whore, I want nothing to do with that cursed child,” the middle-aged woman spat. “Kill me, I ate and used all the money to my heart’s content, I am happy to –“

Her words were cut off as Satoru flickered the blood off his sword. “Get this body out of my sight.”

.

Watching irritatingly from the doorway, his loving wife hadn’t even acknowledged him and greeted him with sweet kisses like she normally did… before this baby came into the picture.

“What do you plan on doing with the baby?”

Satoru remained silent, whatever he wanted to do with the baby was now blocked by his wife. He knew there was no way she was going to allow him to get rid of this baby if she had a say in it.

Judging from how his wife adored this baby, he knew she deeply desired to be a mom.

He was not blind to her disappointment every month when her monthly bleed would arrive. It has been months and she hasn’t been with child even with their excessive lovemaking. Satoru doesn’t miss any opportunity to cum in her womb with hopes that his seed will plant itself.

He was a coward for avoiding the conversation, mostly because he did not want to upset her or make her feel it was her fault she couldn’t conceive fast enough.

For now, he is content with just the two of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire an heir, but the want of it merely stemmed from the clan leaders. He has only just reconnected again with the person he loves and would take the world down to keep her safe. He wants to just enjoy his alone time with her.

Satoru’s eyes narrowed at the happy baby, who shared identical eyes as his. This distinctive Gojo trait had always been dominant, and as far as the family record showed, no Gojo descendant had ever lacked the insignia of crystal light blue eyes.

But since this baby has come into their lives, he has noticed the change in Y/n. It was like a blessing in disguise. She adored this baby girl as if it were her own and did not care that it was neither her nor Satoru’s blood.

Y/n followed the baby’s eyes when she looked away distracted. “Satoru!” She called her husband sweetly. Standing up, without her cane, she limped at her pace towards him.

Satoru strode long strides to meet her more than halfway and wrap his arms around her. He lifts her and the baby in his arms, carrying them back to the couch. He silently scolds her for being reckless.

“Did your meeting go well?” She asked cheerfully, her face gleaming with the same joy she gave the baby. His heart eases a little, feeling loved.

“Yes,” he answered, brushing the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. He didn’t say what kind of meeting he would discuss about the culprit that left this bothersome baby in their hands.

Y/n smiled wide, “are you free to spend the rest of your day with us?”

Us? His eyes drop down at the baby who continues to stare at Satoru like he has three heads. “Yes,” he answered quietly. “I’m free now.”

“You hear that Himari? We can spend time together!”

“Hi – Himar- Himari?” Satoru stuttered, frowning at Y/n. “You named her?”

Y/n nods, “she needs a name, there was none indicated so… does it match her?” She stares at her husband with anticipation. “Should we… name her something else? I… was too excited I didn’t think to discuss it with you…”

He didn’t care what she named the baby but the fact that she named her indicated she was even more attached than he expected. Sighing deeply, Satoru shook his head. “No, the name suits her fine.” He meant that.

As if the baby felt his genuineness, she gave him a gummy smile.

.

His heart is softening at the baby and he hates it. He tried to maintain a distance with the baby but he couldn’t maintain a distance with his wife who was always with the baby.

Himari has taken a keen liking to Satoru as well. He is the first person she searches for upon waking up, crawling over to him and laying on him while cooing to herself.

The very first time she did it, Satoru froze. He was already awake and was about to move Himari over so he could pull his wife into his arms.

And if he was quick, they could make love.

Their love session has lessened as Himari slept with them. Y/n was often tired after spending all day with the baby and would fall asleep as quickly as Himari.

Carefully as ever, Satoru lifted the baby and placed her on his side of the bed. With satisfaction, Satoru was about to nuzzle against Y/n’s tits when the baby began to stir. Quickly he laid back down and closed his eyes, hoping she would go back to sleep. Just when he thought she went back to sleep, he felt something pressed against his chest. Cracking one eye, he sees the top of her head, her faint white hair.

She was laying her head on his chest, did she think he was Y/n?

Groaning silently to himself, he huffed in defeat that he wasn’t going to get to make love to his wife and threw an arm over his eyes.

“She likes you,” Y/n whispered, her arm snaking around his waist.

He moves his arm and shifts it underneath her head, pulling her close to his side. “Morning, my love.”

“Morning, my love,” she murmurs in return, pressing a kiss to his jaw and reaching over to ruffle the top of the baby’s head. “Morning ‘Mari.”

Hearing her name, Himari lifts her head and smiles at the two adults lovingly.

That’s how their mornings would begin.

But lately, Y/n has been tired, and often in a deeper slumber than usual. Looking over, Y/n was still sleeping soundlessly.

Reaching over, he ruffled the baby’s head, she immediately looked up at Satoru with wide eyes that were identical to his.

Himari cooed and smiled.

Sitting up he reached for her, holding her in front of him. “You have a bad habit of waking up way too early,” he teasingly scolded. He glances over at Y/n again seeing she hasn’t stirred yet. “Let’s let Y/n sleep longer today.”

.

Satoru’s brow furrows when his wife enters his office quietly. He is at his desk reviewing some paperwork that needs his attention. “Y/n?” He blinks, pushing the paperwork aside, and focusing on his wife. “Are you okay?”

She nods with a small smile and remains by the door.

He tilted his head, and ordered softly, “why are you standing over there? Come here.”

She makes her way over and he pulls her onto his lap. “Is Himari napping?” She nods, smiling bigger at the thought of him curious about the baby.

Y/n knows he does not want anything to do with the baby. When he finally revealed to her that Himari was his half-sibling, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Not because she suspected that the baby could have been Satoru but that the baby was related somehow. Gojo has revealed that he was the sole last remaining Gojo descendant.

She waited for Satoru to tell her what he planned to do next with the baby but he didn’t add on.

“What is it?” He asked, noticing her pained expression.

“What will happen to her now?” Y/n asked quietly.

His brow raised, “nothing?”

She raised her brow at him, mirroring his confused look. “Nothing?”

He blinked, wondering if he could have said something to confuse her. “Nothing. Nothing won’t happen to her, why do you ask?”

“You’re not going to send her away?” Y/n clarified.

“No,” Satoru answered, “why would I, she’s a baby?”

Y/n sighed in relief, eyes closed as a hand pressed over her heart. “Oh thank God.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Satoru, “I thought – I thought you would send her away.”

Satoru wanted to, and he still does. He smiles at his wife, “I know how much it would hurt to have you two separated.” That was all he had to say for his wife to burst out in tears, thanking him for allowing the baby to stay.

“I know you aren’t exactly… fond of her but…” She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you, Satoru, for understanding.”

“She’s with the wet nurse, who will be her primary caretaker from here on,” Y/n informed, brushing her knuckles against Satoru’s cheek. His brow knitted together in confusion so she giggled and added, “for weeks now, with the help of Sumiko and others, we have carefully chosen a maid who will take sole responsibility for ensuring Himari is raised properly.” When that didn’t seem to answer the confusion on his face, only making him frown deeper, she made it clear. “Himari will be taken care of by her wet nurse from here on, taking much if not all the responsibility away from me.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a quick peck, “I missed you.” He groaned and kissed her until they were breathless. “I missed everything about you. Our team time. Our walks in the garden. Our conversations.” She knew all those moments with her husband had changed since Himari’s existence.  “I miss our lovemaking, Satoru.” Her hand slips inside the layer of his outfit until her palm makes contact with his bare chest.

Her husband has not touched her or made love to her in weeks.

“Why have you not touched me, my love? Do – not desire me anymore?”

Satoru groaned and gripped her wrist, forcing her palm over his heart. “This heart, beats only for you, Y/n. You, you own me, heart, body, and soul. I am yours.” His fingers dig into her thigh, “I have not touched you because you are exhausted and I do not want to tire you anymore, nothing to do with not desiring you. I will always desire you.”

Smiling and pleased to hear his response, she leaned and pressed her lips to his ears and whispered, “then please, Satoru, please make love to me.”

Y/n was bent over his desk in a matter of seconds and he was bunching up the ends of her kimono, tugging and pulling loose her sash that held her outfit together. She let out a fit of giggles that turned into a moan when he tore her panties and the material dropped by her ankle and was instantly filled with her husband’s cock.

Satoru savored the feeling of her wrapped around his favorite part of his body before thrusting hard and deep. His grunts filled the room along with her whimpers and the screeching of the wooden desk.

Hiking a leg of Y/n, Satoru pushed it onto the desk, changing the position and feeling deeper into her pussy. “Missed you… missed you so much…” he murmurs.

They have not had a proper lovemaking that he was close to his orgasm. He maneuvered her onto her back, fitting himself where he belonged in between her legs, and slowly thrust. His hand tugged open her kimono, wanting her naked.  

His body pauses as he is distracted by the beauty of his wife. She lay naked in front of him, her breasts and perky rosy, pink nipples puckered out begging for his attention. They look slightly fuller than he remembered. His eyes drop to her pussy where they are connected as one. Widening her legs, he slowly moves his hips and groans. He felt sensitive, sensitive to her touch and his own body. “I’m going to cum…” he declares softly.

Y/n reaches for him, beckoning to hug her.  He leans over her, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck. “Me too…”

She missed her husband’s fullness inside her.

Keeping their eyes locked, Satoru rocked until Y/n came around him and he followed shortly.

Y/n gasped loudly, back arching as Satoru seed filled her womb to the brim. “Sa – Satoru!” her legs tightened at his side.

They embraced each other silently, letting their worlds sync into one, allowing it to be just of just the two of them in this moment.

Remembering she was pressed against his desk, he stood up but winced at her pussy clamping down around his sensitive cock. Slowly, he withdrew, watching his seed flow out lewdly. It dripped falling onto his foot.

His breath was finally calm and silently they just stared at each other. His eyes shifted lower, down her chest, which he recalled earlier noting they looked fuller and her nipples look darker but his eyes didn’t seem to stop and kept moving down until his breath hitched. He frowned, staring at her at her belly.

Y/n watches silently at his expression and giggles and grabs his hand, placing it on her abdomen. He may not know much about a woman’s body but he clearly recalls the softness of Y/n’s belly, yet… below his palm was firmness.

Satoru’s eyes dart between hers and where his hand rested, his voice lost.

“Feel that?” Y/n whispered, “it is our baby.” When he remained speechless, Y/n sat up. Her Kimono slips from her shoulder and pools loosely at her arms. “Are you not happy, my love?”

“Happy does not describe how I feel,” he finally answered, “are you… happy?”

Y/n nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “I am, and I will be even more happy if you are happy.”

He nods, wiping away her tears. “I am happy, super happy. We’ll be a happy family, you, me, Himari, and our baby.”

.

Satoru loves a pregnant wife. He enjoys every second of it from watching the growth of his child in her womb to all the turmoil of a pregnant woman. All the emotional state to cravings, he made sure to be extra patient and meet her needs.

Himari no longer sleeps with them and Satoru can’t deny the emptiness he felt during the first few nights without her. Though he found some comfort in hearing that she was adjusting well to her new caretaker in the room next to theirs, it didn’t elevate the emptiness inside him. He no longer had someone disturbing his sleep in the morning and admitted his heart warmed knowing he was the first person she sought in the morning.

Now, he sought her out first thing in the morning.

If she was still sleeping, he would bring her back to their bed and place her between him and Y/n.

Without even realizing it, Satoru learned little by little with Himari’s help. He spent more time with her throughout the day, figuring out how to handle her tantrums and discovering new things together, preparing him for fatherhood.

Y/n’s heart would always nearly burst whenever she found the two of them bonding. The pregnancy emotions within her always made her cry.

They had no idea how old Himari was, only judged when she began walking that she would be about one year old.

“Good job, ‘Mari!” The adults cheered as the baby took more than four steps in total, she excitedly walked towards her favorite person, Satoru.

Y/n was close to giving birth, her feet swelled and with the weight of her belly, it was difficult for her to walk with her limp. After an incident of Y/n falling, Satoru and the family doctor restricted her from walking during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Her strong husband carried her and had benches set up throughout the compound.

“I am fine,” Y/n assured, squeezing Satoru’s hand.

“I am not,” he answered honestly. He placed both his palms on her huge belly, huge for her petite physique. “Your belly has continued to keep getting bigger and it’s concerning me how big this baby is inside you…” he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He’s heard of women dying from childbirth and now that his wife was close to giving birth, he was terrified. Satoru has sought various midwives and doctors with many years of experience to be ready to assist when the time comes.

“’Toru,” Y/n called his name softly, “we’ll be okay.”

That eased a little bit of his anxiety.

The moment came rather sooner than later.

Satoru stood pacing outside the door, even being confined in a room down the hall, against his will. He argued that he would not go into the room she was in and could wait outside the door but when he made two attempts to fling open the door, he was ushered to a further room. He could still hear Y/n’s painful whimpers and was ready to move heaven and hell around to be at Y/n’s side.

“You can’t even do anything for her,” his best friend Geto Suguru said, pushing his friend away from the door and further into the room. “Y/n is strong, your baby is strong too, they will be fine…”

Satoru continued to pace the room, his usually neatly combed hair now disheveled and his outfit in disarray.

Both men immediately turned their heads in the same direction when they heard the wail of an infant.

Before Suguru could blink, the door was already flung open forcefully making him flinch and he was alone.

.

“I had hopes he would take after Y/n but he’s a carbon copy of his dad. How unfortunate.” Suguru teasingly looked disappointed, looking down at the tiny baby in his arms. He was surprised that Satoru didn’t shoot him a glare, his friend’s eyes and attention were solely on his wife.

“He’s going to be handsome just like his father,” Y/n smiled tiredly. “My son needs a friend, you ought to have one of your own soon too, Suguru-san.”

Satoru snorted, “I agree with my wife, it is your turn now, Suguru-san.”

Suguru smirked, “just you both wait.”

. . .

E/n: One Lord completed... now stay tuned for the next one!

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @gojoful @buttercupbitches

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom(Chapter 6)]

Masterlist Oxytocin

TW- some shows of mental illness

10 years ago...

"Xerxes come on say something this is a safe place."

"Then why is there a camera?"

"It's there just in case you get-"

"I get what, crazy? Yeh, lady I know the drill"

"It says in your file that you have gone through multiple doctors in the past since your mother's death."

"And what makes you think you can fix me?"

"Because you are special, you have so much potential, and you put it all to waste."

"Who cares? My so called 'family', if I can recall they abandoned me, neglected me, and one of the little brats scarred me." Yep you obviously know who I'm talking about

"Xerxes, don't put the blame on others."

"You've been married for 15 years, three kids, one teen, one toddler, and one infant.

You're parents are divorced and no matter how many times you and your husband hate each other you wanna stay married in order to prevent the same trauma you had pass on to your kids.

Did I get it correct? Oh wait don't answer that I'm always correct." I sighed laying my head down.

"And you've become observant when it comes to hurting others, see I've studied your pattern of behaviour based on the reviews all your other doctors have represented to me before I took this case. And boy was it a long read.

Technically I'm entitled to tell you anything that could help you. And you thought that you could go through me?"

"I don't give a fuck what people say, who do I trust? No one, if a friend wants to jump on train tracks, don't expect me to hold their hand.

I don't give a damn what they insinuate about me anymore, I am an Amala never a Wayne, so I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to." And with that I abruptly stood up and grabbed my bag, I head out there.

The only reason I went there because, my 'dad' heard that I got into a fight and handcuffed the brat in the janitor's closet.

Just suck it up Xerxes, in a few years, you can finally escape them.

'Just suck it up' That's the advice I'd always tell myself no matter how much I cried, scream, or hurt myself.

Present...

"AHHHH, PETE, THERE IS A FUCKING BUILDING!!!!" I screamed as I held on tight to him.

"JENNY MOVE YOUR HAIR, OH SHIT!!!" he lost a bet so he had to swing me from Vincent's house to dad's. When we finally descended, I sighed and laid on the floor for a while.

"Y'know MJ would normally puke with this." He sighed.

"I'm built different" And I walked normally inside my house, I didn't feel any signs of...

fuck

oh wait

Oh shit

never-mind

I rushed to my bedroom's toilet and hurled a lot. Gosh, I should've listened to MJ. With that I washed my face, and brushed my mouth. I went down-stairs ignoring my surroundings.

I kinda had a crush on Pete for a while, but then I met Vincent and felt like Pete is a brother to me.

"AYOO, PETE LET'S GO WATCH SAW 2-" I immediately cut myself off when I saw, something I thought was a dream.

oh wait

it can't be

tell me I'm dreaming.

OH SHIT....

"Hey baby bird-" Richard stuttered, and tried to hug me.

"Back off Grayson, dad what the fuck is going on."

"Xerxes-"

"Who said I was talking to you limp-dick? Now dad seriously what the hell is going on here?" I looked at dad with puppy eyes, gosh I'm so adorable.

"Now, they just came here to drop your stuff." He explained.

"They are not my things they are Xerxes' things, I only things that I need are what I have now." I stated, as I looked at the cunt who ruined my life, I only sighed.

"Xerxes-"

"Zip it Timothy, or I'll tear you're tongue from your head." I stated, I've been watching the Originals again, and might I add, Nikklaus' has been looking good.

"Xerxes-" Jason tried to start. But I cut him off with a glare, he then corrected himself.

"Jennifer, we miss you and we apologise-"

"For what? Neglecting me? Abandoning me? LEAVING ME TO DIE?"

"We didn't mean to." They all protested.

"Bullshit!"

"Language!" Dad sighed.

"When is my birthday?"

"January 7?"

"No, it's September 8, what the hell is wrong with you people?" I was eager to run and ditch these people and run up to my room.

"Xerxes, you're my sister come on." He tried to grab me, but I dodged it and grabbed his hand spinning him downwards. Thanks Nat.

"Touch me one more time, and your arm won't be the only thing that will hurt."

I immediately rushed upstairs and ran to my room, locking it, which activates voice-recognition. Gosh, I was so angry with them. I started to get really angry and accidentally punched a hole in my wall that was connected to Morgan's room.

"JENNY!!!" Oh fuck.

"SORRY M! I'll fix it later." And with that I just dropped onto the bed. I grabbed my phone and texted Vincent.

Jinx- Hey V

V- Hey Jen, how r u?

Jinx- My previous fucked-up family is back now

V- damn, wanna hang tommorow? 🙂

Jinx- Sure, but I gotta lotta hw tho 😢

V- call me if you can then 🤙🏻

And with that I decided to lay down and wonder how fucked up my life could get. I started to fall asleep so I decided to shut down all of my devices, in order to avoid the annoying sound of the 'Brady Bunch' trying to text me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- It could've been longer if my dumbass didn't accidentally delete my first draft, could've been so much better.

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194

[quicktosimp]

Little Teeth

Warnings: Birthing, Jake being a slight perv, and excessive use of the word "fuck", otherwise it's pure fluff

Words: 9k

A/N: Finally got around to finsihing this fic! I have had so much fun writing this. Thank you so much @loaksxhoe, for giving us your headcanons on @pandoraslxna, when you were still an anon. I love you so much Roomie 😘

Jake and Neytiri didn’t take long to have a baby, and then right after Neytiri fell pregnant, we found that Grace’s avatar had also become pregnant. No one knows how, but what we do know is that two little babies will be born soon. Jake and Neytiri had already agreed to take in Grace’s baby, and as their third mate, I will be right there with them, helping along the way with two little ones. The firstborn was little Neteyam, a boy, followed quickly by Grace’s baby, a little girl named Kiri. Life with two infants is exhausting in all the best ways. Even though every moment is spent with one of the two little ones, it couldn’t be more perfect.

And then Neytiri announced she was pregnant. I made plenty of jokes about na’vi contraceptives, but I was elated about there being a new member of our family soon. Now, with a third on the way, things have been put into overdrive. Thankfully, with preparing for the first two, we didn’t need much more, but by Eywa’s grace, would Neytiri please slow down! She’s seven months pregnant, Neteyam strapped to her back, and is bow fishing! I demanded her to either sit down or hand me Neteyam…

“Neytiri love, you are heavily pregnant and carrying Neteyam; please let me take some of the load for you!”

Without seeing her face, I know she’s giving me that glare full of fondness, “I am well aware that I am pregnant, but that does not stop my duties.” she draws her bow, and the beautiful yellow and green feathers fan her cheek.

Rolling my eyes, “Oh wow, I didn’t remember seeing any of the other pregnant women hunting or fishing. I also don’t remember seeing anyone hunting or fishing with their babies strapped to their backs at all. Maybe I’m just blind.” I walk up, and Neteyam notices me. I started to play with the little foot that I could reach, “Let me take Neteyam, and you can have your fun fishing to your heart's content.” I bargain, Neteyam’s little giggles doing wonders for my case. 

With a sigh, Neytiri slowly drops her bow and slides Neteyam off her back. I grab him and cradle him to my chest. His big eyes stare up at me with glee.

“Hello, little mister,” I coo as Neteyam babbles happily, “Have you had fun fishing with Sa’nu?” I asked him, knowing he didn’t understand. But enjoying the attention, he continues to babble excitedly and squeal, communicating with me in a language only he understands. His bright green eyes stare into mine with the love and devotion only a child can hold.

A large hand cups my face, and Neytiri gently leads me to look at her, “You are perfect with our kids, and every day, I fall more and more in love with you,” She lays a gentle kiss on my lips.

I smile into our kiss, bringing our lips to meet again until a tiny hand smacked at my face. I looked at Neteyam; he was disgruntled, like I had ruined his little baby life. 

“It seems our ‘Itan is jealous. He doesn’t like Sa’nu taking all of his Mama’s attention,” Neytiri cooed at our son.

“Ma!” 

Neytiri and I turned our heads to look at Neteyam, surprised and joyful.

“Did he just?” I cut myself off.

“Yes, he did, Syulang. See if he’ll do it again!” She exclaimed, her hand covering her smile.

I look at Neteyam excitedly, “Neteyam, are you saying Mama? Mama!” I emphasized to him.

“Ma! Ma! Ma-ma!” His little fists raised in the air as he chants my name.

“Oh my goodness!” I squeal as tears prick at my eyes, excited to hear and be his first word. I kiss his cheek repeatedly, causing him to erupt in giggles.

“Oh my ‘Itan, you have always been a Sa’nu’s boy, yet you say Mama first,” Neytiri teases him, rubbing her nose against his cheek. 

Happy that the attention is back on him, he throws his head back in giggles as he claps his hands.

“I can’t believe it! Neteyam’s first word!” I gush over him.

“He is blessed,” Neytiri muttered, holding the two of us.

A thought suddenly hit me, “Jake’s going to be so upset. He missed Kiri crawling for the first time, too.”

“Ba, I told our Skxawng that she was going to start moving soon, yet he still went on that hunting trip,” She exclaims, rolling her eyes.

“Still, I feel kinda bad,” I worry, continuing to kiss Neteyam’s cheek, not wanting him to be upset after such a big thing.

“Jake will just have to work harder with this one.” Neytiri rubs her taunt stomach. 

“I cannot wait for this little one to join us,” I bring my hand to her stomach, feeling the little one inside.

Looking at the two of us, Neteyam lays his chubby hand on Neytiri’s stomach, “Your tsmukan prrnen is in there,” I explain softly.

Neteyam softly coos as he holds his hand on his Sa’nu’s belly. Suddenly, Neteyam yanks his hand back before angrily babbling, scawolling at her stomach. 

I looked at Neteyam questioningly as Neytiri laughed, “Our youngest just kicked Neteyam’s hand.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing as well, seeing Neteyam scold his unborn brother, unknown babbles and grizzles leaving him, making him sound like an angry bee. 

“Alright, my little buzzing bee, it’s time for us to go home,” I comment to Neteyam, caressing his cheek bringing his attention back to me, “Enjoy your fishing, my love,” I lay a kiss on Neytiri’s lips.

“Thank you, Yawne, you two enjoy your day,” With that, we go our separate ways.

The walk back to the village was long, as Neytiri likes to fish in more remote areas, but Neteyam and I enjoyed our stroll. I showed him many different plants and rocks. If they were safe, then I’d put them in his little hands as he learns to move them properly. Feel the texture in his hands and mouth as he learns.

Nearing the village, I hear the sound of pa’li and their riders nearby, “Do you hear that, Neteyam? Those are pa’li and their riders. The riders are brave warriors who protect the clan,” I explain diligently. 

Neteyam’s ears flicker, his eyes shifting between me and the sounds he hears. Soon, the pa’li riders show themselves, led by Tsu’tey.

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsu’tey,” I greet friendly, doing the movement the best I could with a squirming Neteyam.

Tsu’tey returns the gesture, “Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N), Neteyam,” Tsu’tey turns his attention to the wiggling baby, “He seems active today,” A grin shows on his face.

“I think he woke up from his nap just in time to see me. Gives his Sa’nu peace and quiet, leaving his Mama with a wiggle butt,” I joke.

Neteyam turns his head to me, “Ma! Ma ma ma-ma.” He babbles on.

“Well, he wasn’t doing that yesterday,” Tsu’tey commented, “Does Neytiri and Jake know that you’re Neteyam’s favorite?” He teases.

“I don’t know if I’m his favorite. It’s just easier for babies to use an ‘M’ sound than the ‘S.’” I shrug off, “But yes, Neytiri was there to hear his words. Unfortunately, I have not yet seen Jake today,” I explain.

Tsu’tey slowly shakes his head, “I swear those two wait for Jake to leave before doing something,” 

I laugh at his reasoning, “Neteyam, I believe it is bad timing. Kiri, on the other hand, I see the look in that girl's eyes. She’s doing it on purpose.” I laugh joyfully.

“Is that why Jake takes her with him everywhere? Now, Jake has always been good at caring for the babies, but I feel like I haven't seen him without Kiri attached to his chest for the past two months.” Tsu’tey asks, picking fun of my mate.

“I believe so. Jake had Kiri for 48 hours straight, with plenty of playtime and cuddling. Now Jake had Kiri on her back, playing with her. The moment that he went to go to the bathroom, she rolled herself over and started crawling!” I exclaimed, telling my favorite story.

“No wonder my brother refuses to let go of her! But now he may do the same with this little one,” Tsu’tey comments, laughing at my mate's plight.

“What will he do when our third is born? He can’t carry them all,” I enjoy the mental image that gives me,

“He will try, that is for sure,” Tsu’tey grins as he looks around, “Where is Neytiri? Surely you are not by yourself?” The grin slowly faded from his face.

“Neytiri is restless. She is bow fishing down by her favorite creak.” I shrug.

“She should still not leave you alone. The animals have been restless lately.” He pursed his lips, “Come here and hop on. I will bring you back to the village.” 

I thought to argue, but I was already tired from the walk, and Neteyam was getting restless, “Thank you, Tsu’tey,” I walked towards him, and he easily picked the two of us up, settling us in front of him.

“Of course, I am glad to be of help,” He responds before he urges his pa’li onward at a slow pace.

Neteyam, interested in the pa’li, reached out and patted the fin atop its head, “Yes, Neteyam, this is a pa’li, Tsu’tey’s pa’li. Tsu’tey is your uncle,” I ramble on to Neteyam.

“Uncle? I am not familiar with that word.” Tsu’tey inquired.

“It is an English word, an honorific; it is what children call the brother of their parents. I explain to him.

“And you are teaching Neteyam to call me that?” His tail swished joyfully.

“Yes, you were a brother to Neytiri first, growing up alongside her. Then you became a brother to Jake and me. We all proved ourselves during the war. You are our brother, and we agreed we like the name and want you to be called that by our kids,” I offered.

“This is a great honor, thank you,” Tsu’tey reaches around, placing a hand on Neteyam’s head.

“It is an honor for us to have you as a brother. I am always thankful to call you brother, and I am honored for my children to grow up with you around.” I explain heartfully.

“I promise to always live up to that name,” He responds dutifully.

“I know you will, Brother,” Looking back, I smile at him.

The rest of the ride back to the village was filled with idle chatter, Neteyam babbling along with us, believing he was adding to the conversation. Tsu’tey and I indulged him; every time he babbled, we would respond to him with wows or agreements, encouraging him to babble more.

Tsu’tey brought us to the village entrance before helping us down, “You two enjoy your day. I will be back later, hopefully with one of your run-away mates,” He explains, turning his pa’li around.

I give a small laugh at his choice of words, “Thank you, Tsu’tey; however, I will enjoy my time with Neteyam. It has been a while since he has had one one-on-one with his Mama,” I explain cheekily. 

“Got it. I will not look for them too hard,” He agrees, matching my grin. 

“Stay safe, Tsu’tey.” I nod before heading to my kelku.

Being mated to the Olo’eyktan meant our kelku was in the center of the village. It was also larger than the average, but that is fine as we will have three kids in under a year. It was decorated with beautiful tapestries, woven garments, and pillows. It had taken some convincing with Neytiri, but she ended up loving the pillows and the many uses they have, especially the one made to wrap around her front, helping hold the babies and letting her rest her arms.

Looking down, I hear Neteyam grizzling, with it being time for a feed and a nap. 

“I know Teyam, Mama’s going,” I soothe, preparing his bottle, another human invention I had to convince Neytiri of. 

Warming his milk, I check it on my wrist before pouring it into his bottle. I walk over to the pillows, situating myself and Neteyam as his whines increase in volume, “Shh, lovey, I got it right here,” I coo, placing the tip in his mouth. 

Neteyam eagerly latches on, suckling the milk into his mouth and swallowing greedily. He rests his arms on his stomach as his eyes grow heavy. I rest Neteyam on a pillow, angling him towards me, as I use my now free hand to rub over his head. He continues to suck at his bottle like it’s his last meal until it’s finished. Sitting him up, I hold him under his chin before patting his back gently, forcing the trapped wind out. After the wind came up, I brought him back to my chest, cradling him close to me as he readied himself for a nap. Smoothing his hair and running a finger over his face, Neteyam’s eyes droop further as sleep calls him. I chuckle softly as I watch him drift to sleep. With nothing else to do, I sit there watching his beautiful face as he rests peacefully, his chest rising and falling with every breath. I can’t help but reflect on everything that brought me here, and despite the losses, I wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. Knowing that I will be here for a while, I grab my last weaving project, another sling, as we’ll need it with the new little one, as they’ll be here any day.

Jake named Neteyam, wanting to honor Neytiri’s side of the family, and with Neteyam being a mini Neytiri, it worked perfectly. Neytiri named Kiri, naming her after her biological mother. I am unsure of who will name the newest one, but thoughts have circled in my head. One particular name stays around, refusing to leave.

“Darling, why must you look at me like that?” I hear Jake as he enters our kelku.

I turn to see him wearing the Olo’eyktan ornaments, with Kiri strapped to his chest, staring at her father without blinking.

“Please, baby girl, just blink,” Jake’s voice turns to pleading.

I laugh quietly at Jake losing a fight with his infant daughter, grabbing his attention.

“Hey, Sweetheart, how has your day been?” Jake asks, lowering his voice when he notices Neteyam sleeping.

I smile at him, bemused, as Kiri has yet to blink, “It’s been good. Got some time with Neteyam, saw Tsu’tey, now what is this about Kiri and not blinking?” I ask, giggling softly.

A groan escaped Jake, “I swear to you, she hasn’t blinked in over five minutes. She just stares at me blankly.” Truth be told, I still haven’t seen Kiri blink yet.

I have to restrain myself from laughing, “Gosh, I love that girl,”

“You say that like she hasn’t been purposely tormenting me,” Jake exaggerated.

“While that may be true, you did miss something important today.” I tease him.

Curiously, Jake’s face furrows as he smiles hesitantly, “And what did I miss?”

“Well, you see, I went to go and force Neytiri to chill out because I found her bow fishing with Neteyam again. After convincing her to hand over to Neteyam, she gave me a quick parting kiss.” I pause for dramatic effect, “Now Neteyam didn’t like that the attention was off of him, and Neytiri pointed out that he didn’t like that his Sa’nu and Mama were getting more attention than him. Apparently, Neteyam needed to get his point across, and he did that by saying ‘Mama,’” I grin triumphantly. 

“Neteyam, Neteyam said his first word? He said, Mama!” Jake’s ears and tail flickered in glee as he fought to keep his voice down. “I can’t believe it!” Jake paused briefly, his tail drooping, “I can’t believe I missed it!” Realizing he missed another milestone. 

I chuckle at his actions; poor Jake kept missing things, “Well, if you want to switch, maybe Neteyam will speak for you when he wakes, and our little miss will finally blink.” I reach my free arm out.

Grumbling, he unwraps Kiri from her sling, and we switch babies; Neteyam snuffles a little before settling in Jake’s arms, while Kiri finally blinks, realizing that she’s with her Mama a gummy smile stretched over her face, two little white spots on top of her gums.

I laugh, realizing that Jake missed something else, “Jake, my love,” I look at him, grinning.

He looks at me, concerned, “What is it this time?” 

“Our daughter has two teeth coming in,” I grin triumphantly.

“What? No way!” He rushes over the best he can with a sleeping Neteyam.

I turn Kiri around, moving her top lip to show the two white spots, “Looks like her fangs are coming in first. Is that normal for na’vi?” I ask while feeling the spots, seeing how far along they are.

“I don’t even know what human baby teeth come in first, let alone na’vi,” He admitted sheepishly.

“I’ll have to ask Neytiri or Mo’at, depending on how long Neytiri decides to stay out. Kiri’s teeth are coming along.” I mention.

Jake feels Kiri’s gums, much to her ire, “I’d probably do it sooner than later. Those teeth aren’t waiting for anyone,” He explains, removing his finger as Kiri goes to chomp down.

I laugh as Jake looks at our daughter fearfully, “Alright, scaredy cat,” I sit up and move towards the door.

I struggle to put on the sling for Kiri, but after successfully trying it, I wave back at Jake before heading back out.

The healing tent, thankfully, isn’t far from our marui, a brisk walk. The longest part of it was when I stopped digging up a plant for Kiri to hold. The plant seemed to react to her presence, but that was a topic for another day.

The healing tent isn't really a tent. It’s underground, beneath the roots of a tree, giving a warm and cozy vibe when you walk in, bringing warmth and peace as the scents of herbs and tinctures brush my nose. Mo’at stands in the middle of the undergrowth, grinding petals into her mortar. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Mo’at,” I call out respectfully. 

Her head swivels to look at me. A soft smile brushes her face as she spots Kiri and I, “Oel ngati kameie. I trust that you two are alright?” She asks, eyeing us for injuries.

“We are fine. Just came to show you Kiri’s new teeth,” I return her smile.

Mo’at’s ears and tail flickered in joy as her face lit up, “Bring her here! I must see,” She quickly abandons her work.

Laughing, I untangle the sling, happily handing over Kiri to her grandmother. Mo’at eagerly took her granddaughter, placing a finger inside Kiri’s mouth, feeling at the emerging teeth. 

“Two little fangs; it seems they’re coming in just fine!” She spoke excitedly, her voice soft to not bother Kiri.

“Jake and I  were wondering, is it normal for na’vi babies' fangs to come in first?” I ask, seeing that Mo’at is happy with the progress.

Removing her finger from Kiri’s mouth, she explains, “Hmm, yes, one or two top fangs come in at a time, then the bottom ones. After that, the front teeth fill in.”

I nod my head, happy with her words, “That’s a little different than what I am used to, but I am glad that everything is normal.”

“Is that not how humans work?” She asks curiously.

“Actually-”

“Sa’nok! Do you know where Jake and (Y/N) are?” I hear Neytiri call.

“I am here, Love!” I called back to her.

“What is the matter ‘Ite?” Mo’at answers as Neytiri comes into sight, Tsu’tey at her side.

“I am in labor; our newest one is early,” She explains calmly as she shuffles her way into the healing tent.

Looking at Tsu’tey, I grab Kiri from Mo’at and hand her to him, “Ready?” I ask him.

“I have been waiting. We knew the day would be soon.” Tsu’tey accepts Kiri from me.

“Jake is at our kelku with Neteyam. If you could, please send him our way, that would be amazing,” I comment as I go through the mental birthing plan. 

“Do not worry. I will send Jake your way and care for the little ones,” He calmly states, noticing my incoming panic. 

“Thank you, Tsu’tey,” I give one last kiss to Kiri’s cheek before turning and joining Neytiri and Mo’at further into the tree roots. 

The deeper underground is only illuminated by the surrounding plants. As I walked down, it became warmer as steam poured upward, and the healing pools were heated, creating the perfect place for birthing. The area brings a natural peace, helping calm me.

Neytiri was already resting in a pool, her garments folded neatly off to the side, as she relaxed with her mother next to her. I sit next to the pool, grabbing Neytiri’s hand and placing it on my face.

“Are you calm now, ‘Ite?” Mo’at asks me.

Sighing, I reply, “Much better now. I’m sorry for panicking,” I mutter to Neytiri.

She laughs softly at me, “Jake was much worse when Neteyam was born. I thought he was going to pass out on me,” Her large thumb caresses my face.

“In our defense, human births are an ordeal. Sometimes it takes several days, and surgery is still needed to remove the baby,” I mumble, eased as I remember na’vi births are relatively simple.

“Several days? That seems excessive,” Mo’at questioned.

“Human births are not easy. It's excruciating. I know my mother was in labor with me for 29 hours before the doctor agreed to remove me surgically.” I explain, grimacing.

“Surgically?” Mo’at mutter aghast.

“Yes, my mother didn’t dilate enough for me to pass through, so instead, they cut open through several layers of flesh and into the womb to remove me.”  I wince at the idea, “The only other option would be to attempt to force me out, which would have either gotten me stuck, most likely killing both of us or my mother would have torn, causing her to bleed out.”

The two women looked at me fearfully, unable to process what I explained to them.

“And this is common for humans?” Mo’at asked softly, slightly pale.

“Yeah, around 1 million births a year are c-sections,” I struggled to remember the average number.

“Would you be at risk for those?” Neytiri asked concernedly.

I look at her earnestly, “Oh, definitely, that’s why Jake and I are so careful because a na’vi baby would be so large that I would be on bed rest from about the 4th month and would need a c-section. Although we do have several human doctors who can perform the surgery, it’s really just the pregnancy that has us concerned.” 

Neytiri goes to speak, but a wince cuts her off. I look down and notice her slit is swollen, symbolizing that her cervix is moving forward slowly. I place my hand into the water, gently rubbing at the side of her slit, trying to help ease the tension building there.

“After hearing that, this seems easy,” She groans.

“Hey, don’t play down your pain. Your body is literally rearranging itself for birth; you get to complain, groan, and moan, and I will personally help you if you threaten Jake, and Jake will as well.” I scold her gently but firmly.

“Threaten? Is that normal for human births? Neytiri’s giggles were infectious.

“Yeah, just the standard things though, ‘You’re never touching me again!’, ‘I’m cutting off your balls and feeding them to the dog!’ you know the normal things.” I comment, remembering some of the things I had heard before.

Mo’at and Neytiri burst into laughter, their giggles echoing to the top of the healing pod.

Jake walked into the birthing room smiling, “It seems I’m missing out.”

“Oh, you know, just threatening humankind by castrating men,” I smile sweetly.

Jake winces, pushing his legs together at the thought, “Babe, I don’t have those anymore, and that’s still terrifying.”

“I still find it odd that human sex are outside the body, males in particular. It literally sways as they move,” Neytiri muses, furrowing her brow.

My head tilts back in laughter, amused by her disgust, “Love, I was terrified when Jake showed me his slit and a giant dick covered in spikes came out! Human genitals are tame compared.”

I quickly shut my mouth, remembering that Mo’at was in the room. I sent her an apologetic look, apologizing for my language. She merely chuckles, shaking her head.

“Now that your mates are here, I will go upstairs. I’ll come back after you are finished together.” With that, she left up the stairs.

Jake takes her spot, kneeling on the other side of the pool, his hand rubbing at Neytiri’s neck, easing her muscles, “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and uncomfortable, this one is ready to leave,” She mutters, and I can feel her inner muscles contracting and moving around.

“I can feel it. Baby wants out now,” I chuckle lightly, realizing something, “All of our kids are eager today: Neteyam’s first word, Kiri’s first teeth, and now baby three is rushing their own birth.”

Neytiri’s face lit up, “Kiri has a fang now?” She asked excitedly.

“Two little teeth are pushing through, two little white spots on her gums,” Jake explains, cupping warm water and trailing it over her shoulders.

“Ahhh, I can not wait to see them,” Her face is aglow.

“And despite Jake having her all day, he still managed to miss them. I spotted her teeth,” I giggle at Jake’s luck.

“Ma Jake, what is with our children and avoiding you,” Neytiri’s laugh brought joy to us as we successfully distracted her.

“I held her all day! There is no way I could have missed that!” Jake whines.

“You also held a staring contest with her and lost,” I pointed out.

“She wouldn’t blink! Five minutes!” He exclaimed.

Neytiri’s head fell back as her laughter rang through the underground. 

“Our ‘Ite will walk all over you when she is older,” Her giggles trail off.

“I can’t fight an eight-month-old baby,” Jake’s pout was evident.

Neytiri and I look at each other, smiling, knowing that our husband was thoroughly whipped for his daughter. 

“Oh!” Neytiri exclaimed.

I press around the sides of her slit, feeling the baby's head was close, “I’m going to start prepping you, Love,” I explain to her.

I wait for her nod of consent before gently rubbing at her slit. The opening is swollen from the moving blood. I press down with easy pressure, moving my fingers from top to bottom, urging her slit to open. A sharp hiss leaves Neytiri’s mouth as she grabs Jake’s hand.

“Easy, it’s okay baby, we got you,” I can hear Jake hold back a wince of his own from her firm grip on his hand.

“Is this where humans would start to threaten their male mate?” Neytiri asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Love, this is typically that time,” I send a knowing grin to Jake, excited to hear the explicit that will fall from her mouth. 

Jake gives me a dark look but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“Jake! You bastard!” She starts off strong, “If I didn’t like it so much, I would cut off your dick and feed it to the Ikran’s!”

With that, I had to duck my head, hiding the smile that couldn’t stop. I focus back on my task, feeling her muscles giving in to my touch. I push a little harder, needing to break the seal that her pregnancy caused.

“Fuck you, Jake! I’m trying your dick to an Ikran and having it take flight!” Her scream was shrill as I broke the seal.

“You’re doing such a good job, Love. The seal’s broken. The worst of it is over.” I coo to her.

“By Eywa, that seal is horrible,” Neytiri mutters breathlessly, the sharp pain of the seal breaking causing her to lose her breath.

Now that her slit is open, I can see the fluid from her womb flow out, tainting the pool in a soft blue glow. I dip my fingers inside, feeling for the baby’s head. Their crown was near but not properly aligned yet. 

“Almost there, Love. Just a couple more minutes, and we can get them out,” I explain softly, my fingers never leaving the baby’s head.

Neytiri chuckles through her groans, “This one is eager, a week early, and not even an hour in labor.”

“Neteyam was average, right? Three hours?” He questions.

I look up at Neytiri’s face, wondering what the answer is, “Yes, three to four hours is average. And I now know why. I can feel this one moving my organs at their whim.” She hisses as the baby moves again.

Their fuzzy head is beneath my fingertips as their crown aligns some more. I shot Jake a pointed look, so I could continue to ease the rest of her slit open. 

“So what are the names we had listed?” He asked lamely.

“Well, for a girl, we all agreed on Mi’niri or Tuktirey,” Neytiri reminded him.

“If she’s named Tuktirey, the kids may have a hard time with her name until they are older,” I warned as I used the warm water to gently ease away the remains of the seal.

“Mhm,” She groaned as more the seal was parted, “I don’t think any of us agreed on a boy name,” Wincing as more of her slit parted.

Noticing that the baby was trying to push itself out early, I placed a bit of pressure on their head, needing to open Neytiri’s slit fully; otherwise, it could hurt both Neytiri and the baby.

“Jake, this is 100% your child,” I mutter, trying to hurry but not wanting to hurt Neytiri anymore.

Sputtering, Jake managed out, “What did I do?”

“Your child likes to finish early,” I muttered blankly.

“I do not finish early!” Jake protested.

“Then why do I always make our, Paskalin cum?” Neytiri joins in.

Using Jake’s bruised ego as a distraction, I finish peeling apart the bottom of Neytiri’s slit, allowing our baby to come out.

“Ready, Tiri? Our baby is ready to come out now,” I explain to her softly, my joy barely contained.

I remove my hand from her slit; instead, I place both my hands outside and around, ready to catch our baby. Neytiri grips onto Jake’s hand, takes a deep breath, and pushes. As she strains, her slit parts wide, showing us the baby’s head.

“You’re doing so good; they’re almost here,” Jake cooed into her ear.

I look and see Neytiri struggling. I pat her hip and say, “Breathe, my love, you need to breathe.” I rub at her hip as she follows my words, “There you go, good job, just breathe,�� I praise her.

I watch as her breathing regulates itself and that she’s ready to try again, “Ready, baby? They’re almost here; I can see their head. Just give me another push.” I explain softly, readying myself again.

One more breath, and she started to push, grunting as our baby’s head slowly went past her slit, letting us see their head to the top of their eyes.

“Almost there, Love!” I exclaimed as their head finally popped through, “That their head, good job, Lovie, one more push for the shoulders, and then our baby is here.” 

With that, Neytiri pushed as hard as she could, forcing the shoulders out, and the rest of our baby slid out. I grabbed the baby, bringing its face above the water as I cleaned the membrane off its face. 

Their little face scrunched up as they took their first breath before crying out their displeasure. I coo at them as I finish cleaning them off, looking for any abnormalities or injuries. As I washed them, their slit that hides their internal genitals didn’t have the strength to close and won't for many months. 

I slowly had them over to Neytiri, “Say hello to our son,” I whispered over his cries.

The three of us crowd together, our arms all coiled around each other, each touching one another and our new son. Tears were in all of our eyes as Neytiri brought our son to her teat, and his cries died off as he quickly latched on and began to drink. 

“He’s got a good appetite,” Jake softly chuckled, not wanting to startle the baby.

“He just wants his Sa’nu,” I chuckle back.

Slowly, I reach around and grab Neytiri’s kuru, bringing it forward as Jake goes for our son’s, the bare neural whip, tiny in his large hands. We both look at Neytiri, waiting for her to say something, but her eyes could leave our son's face. He was content where he was, laying snuggly against his Sa’nu, eating his first meal. 

Jake clears his throat, trying to grab her attention. Neytiri is slow to look away but eventually meets his eyes. Recognition faces through her face as she sees the kurus in our grasp.

“Please,” She whispers. 

And we obey slowly; we bring them together, the glowing strands wrapping around each other as Tsaheylu was formed. Slowly, Neytiri’s eyes closed as she relaxed into the bond, feeling everything that our son felt, the first bond being made.

Jake and I looked at each other, knowing that everything we had gone through was worth it for these moments. We slowly brought our faces together, and our lips met softly just over our baby’s head. It was sweet and passionate, full of love.

“I love you two, but do that somewhere else,” Neytiri gripped at us, her eyes remaining closed.

We part quickly, like teens caught by their parents, before we laughed quietly. I go back to finishing my job, cleaning Neytiri, and clamping the umbilical cord, severing one of the internal bonds. 

We all sat there quietly, Jake and I watching our son eat his fill, snuffling as he suckled. By the time he was finished, his little tummy was rounded full from his meal. I reached over and placed my hand on his stomach.

“Look at his tummy, Jake,” I coo, loving the feel of a newborn.

“Our little one is a good eater,” He responds, smiling, his hand rubbing at our son's head. 

“He enjoys your attentions,” Neytiri mumbles, a soft smile on her face. 

“He knows who his parents are,” Jake comments, his voice deep rumbling in a purr. 

A little squeaky sound follows, a little chirping noise that our son is making, the purr of an infant. The continued squeaking purr filled the underground, mixing with Jake’s comforting rumbles. Slowly and slightly reluctantly, Neytiri disconnects from our baby, handing him over to Jake. He grabs him and cradles our son to his chest, their purrs syncing. I grabbed Neytiri’s hand, linking our fingers together. 

We stayed down there for what seemed like hours, simply holding the baby and comforting each other. It was once again my turn with our son. He lay curled with his head resting above my heart. I smoothed a hand down his fuzzy head and down his back before doing it again, memorizing the sanhì that covers his body. This time, he was asleep, so it was quiet in the underground once again.

“Ma Yawne,” Neytiri called, “Jake and I have been discussing, and we agree it’s your turn to choose the name,” Her smile was soft as tears stung my eyes.  

“We’ve both named a child. This time, it's yours,” Jake added as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I-I never-I haven’t.” I stuttered out as tears poured out of my eyes, trailing down and dropping on my son's head.

Neytiri crawled out of the pool, sitting herself next to me. She grabbed my face and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, “You are one of us, Yawntutsyìp; you are our Syulang, never doubt that.” Her voice was full of passion as I leaned into her touch.

I have never doubted they loved me, but being the only human in this relationship comes with hardships and worries—fears of never being enough for them. But this was real and couldn’t be taken back.

Choking back my tears, I look at my son's face again, wondering which name to go with, even though I already knew the answer.

“Lo’ak,” I whispered, “His name is Lo’ak,”

“Like Lo’akur Toruk Makto Amulet, it’s perfect, Yawne,” Her voice wobbled as she held me closer.

I lean up and lay my lips on the underside of her jaw as Jake wraps himself around my other side. 

“I think it’s a perfect name,” But then he whispers quietly enough that Neytiri can’t hear, “It is Lo’ak and not LOAC, right?” 

I refused to respond to that with words. Instead, I leaned to the side and bit his ear.

“Hey! Let go. I was just asking,” Jake whined quietly, trying not to wake Lo’ak.

I continue with my hold on Jake’s ear, laughing as he attempts to get away from my teeth. 

On my other side, I can feel rumbling, Neytiri’s laughter, “Children, I’m mated to two children,” A grin overtook her face.

I quickly let go of Jake’s ear and turned to her, “You love us this way,” I smiled cheekily. 

She said nothing as she kissed my lips before doing the same to a pouting Jake.

And I know that this moment couldn’t be better.

“Ma Syulang, I will be patrolling today. Jake should be back soon, but if I see Tsu’tey, I will send him to help you,” Neytiri rambles as she places her ionar.

I picked up Neteyam before he climbed onto our cooking spot. 

I turned and put on my best smile, “Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be fine until Jake gets back,” With that, Lo’ak started crying; growing in four fangs at once was painful.

Based on Neytiri’s face, I don’t think I did a good job in convincing her I was indeed fine, “I think I will wait for Jake to return before leaving,” She explains as she stops Kiri from putting a random leaf in her mouth, causing her to cry. 

I quickly placed Neteyam into the front of the sling, as Lo’ak was tied to my back, before moving over to Kiri, grabbing her wooden Ikran toy. Showing Kiri the toy, she quieted down, and I went to take her from Neytiri as Neteyam wiggled, becoming frustrated from the lack of mobility. 

“I’ve got them. You go on patrol,” I demand, as Netyeam grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked.

“Neteyam!” I scolded, a burning, sharp pain radiating through my skull. 

My shout scared the babies, causing all three to tear up and cry. Lo’ak’s cries turned into squeals, even more upset on top of the pain. Neteyam pulled again in his frustration, and I quickly put him down into the gated play area, “Neteyam, that is not okay. I know you’re upset, but you hurt Mama. You’re going to sit in here until you can use gentle hands. Mama loves you, but you can not hurt people,” I scolded softly but firmly. 

I sat down near the gate but left it out of reach; I pulled Lo’ak to my front, setting him next to Kiri as I shooshed them, trying to calm the two of them.

Neytiri walks urgently to my side, “Here, let me take one,” As she goes to grab one of the kids.

“No, Neytiri, I’m the one that scared them. I need to be the one to calm them and reassure them. I will do the same once Neteyam is out of timeout.” I sighed as Kiri’s cries trailed off into sniffles.

“I’m sorry, babies, Mama shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry for scaring you. Mama loves you,” I coo to them, apologizing for my actions. 

I continued to coo and rock them as Neteyam’s time came up. I walked over and stepped over the gate, sitting next to Neteyam. I pulled him into my arms, and he wrapped his chubby baby arms around my neck.

I kiss his head gently, “Neteyam, I love you so much, but you can not hurt people. Can you tell Mama you’re sorry?” I ask him gently.

“Sorry, Mama,” He sniffles, his little fingers clawing in distress.

“You’re forgiven, baby. Mama loves you so much,” I curled Neteyam closer to me as I leaned back against some pillows against the gate. 

“Love Mama,” He grizzles, rubbing his face in my neck.

“Mama loves you too, Teyam,” I whisper, noticing that the three of them are starting to settle down. 

Seeing that Neytiri was still standing there watching us, I used my face to gesture to the blanket nearby. Understanding what I wanted, she grabbed the soft blanket, covering the four of us in the soft fur. 

“Mama loves all of you so much,” I whisper again, kissing each of their heads.

Noticing that the situation was handled, Neytiri blew me a kiss before strapping her quiver on, her bow in hand, “Do you need anything, Yawne?” She asked one last time.

“Thank you, Love, but I’m good,” I whisper as I hear Kiri’s little snores. 

Giving us one last soft look, she left the kelku, leaving me with a snoring baby, a dozing baby, and a grizzly baby. I mentally curse at myself, realizing I should have asked for one of the baby sleeping mats to be placed next to me instead of where I spot it on the other side of the gated area. 

Accepting my fate as a baby bed for the time being, I slouch a bit more, getting myself comfortable. 

“Mama?” Neteyam asked drowsily.

“Yes, baby?” I hum, petting his hair.

“Mama?” He asks again, slower than the last time.

“Mama loves you, Netyeam,” I whisper again.

Slowly, his breathing eases out as he falls into a deep sleep.

Now that two of the three kids were sleeping, I turned to the third baby. Lo’ak was lying there resting, chewing on the strap to the sling, grizzling sleepily as he fights sleep and the pain of the emerging teeth. I kiss his forehead, bringing his attention to me.

“Mama loves you, Lo’ak, just as Mama loves Neteyam, and how Mama loves Kiri. I wish I could take the pain from you and help you rest, just as I wished I could do it for your siblings.” I ramble on, holding eye contact with Lo’ak, “Your Sempu is getting something to help with your teeth from your grandma, but he’s taking a long time, isn’t he? I love your Sempu, too, but he can be such a skxawng sometimes,” I smiled at Lo’ak, and in return, he gave me a watery smile before returning to gnawing on the straps of the sling.

He turned his head left to right, switching sides to alleviate the pressure. Using my not-so-free hand, I place my hand on his head, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, trying to give him the comfort he needs as he grizzles. Feeling something on his face, Lo’ak turns, sucking my finger into his mouth and gnawing on my thumb. He grinds his teeth and gums into my thumb, and I can feel my thumbnail crunching under the strength. I maneuver my thumb out of his mouth, trying not to curse at the pain. Looking at the offended limb, I see cracks in my nail from where he bit.

“You got a strong jaw there, baby. Gotta make sure nothing breakable goes in your mouth,” I laugh at Lo’ak’s disgruntled look, “Now, don’t give me that look. I like my thumb in one piece,” I say, wiggling my thumb, trying to ease the pain. 

Lo’ak’s eyes filled with tears as his new teething toy disappeared. I quickly leave small kisses all over Lo’ak’s face, distracting him from the loss of my thumb. Soft little baby giggles fill the kelku as the onslaught of kisses amuses him.

“Now that’s one of my favorite sounds. My other favorite is when you and Neytiri scream my name,” Jake’s face was stretched in a smirk.

Without looking away from Lo’ak, I calmly mentioned, “If you like us yelling your name, I’ll make sure to tell Neytiri it was you who lost the feathers she gathered for her arrows.” I quickly blow a raspberry on Lo’ak’s face, bringing forth more of his giggles.

“Easy baby, it was just a joke; please don’t sign my death warrant,” I hear him plead as he kneels next to the gated area.

“See, Lo’ak, I told you he’s such a Skxawng,” I explain to Lo’ak, his eyes attentive to me.

“Is this what you do while I’m gone? Teach them propaganda against me?” Jake teases, baffled.

“Yes, I’m staging a coup. Neytiri is my bodyguard, Neteyam is my recruiter, Kiri is my lookout, and Lo’ak is my second. Fear me, Jake Sully, your time is limited.” I drawl.

“Ha! You forgot Mo’at! She won't betray the Olo’eyktan!” Jake exclaimed quietly. 

“She will if her daughter is on my side, idiot,” I snark back at him, a smile threatening to cover my face. 

“Hmm, that is true, but I also have the numbing paste for Lo’ak,” He teases, hanging the bag over my head.

Interested in his father's actions, Lo’ak tries to reach for the bag above us.

“You would stoop so low as to threaten your own son's comfort?” I gasped dramatically. If my hands weren't full, I would place a hand over my heart.

“Anything to keep my lovely mates by my side. Now kiss me,” Jake demands, smiling at me, leaning down.

“You’re such a tease. We should role-play this some night,” I comment, leaning up to meet him. 

“I love that idea. You think Neytiri would be on board?” Jake asks concernedly, stepping over the gate, taking the two sleeping babies from me and cuddling them to his chest.

“Well, first, we would have to explain what role-playing is, but I have heard her say she wished you would command her in bed more often. As long as she knows that it won't change in our day-to-day life, I think she’ll love it,” I reply, explaining what I had heard.

“I hope she likes it,” He smiles, his tale swishing happily behind him.

I sat there thinking for a moment as I rubbed the paste into Lo’ak’s gums, careful not to let his jaws clamp on my finger again, “Gosh, I don’t think we’ve been intimate since before Lo’ak was born. It has been what, ten months now?” I ask Jake, really wondering if it had been that long. 

“324 days, to be exact,” He replied in a snap.

“Babe, have you wanted it that long?” I asked him concernedly.

Jake slowly shakes his head, “It’s alright, I have a working hand. We were all so tired, three babies right back to back. I didn’t want either of you two to feel stressed or pressured, so I kept my mouth shut,” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

Tears sprung to my eyes hearing this, wishing that Jake understood how much this truly meant. I stand to my feet, shifting Lo’ak so he is lying against my chest as he drifts to sleep now that the pain is gone. I cradle Jake's face in my hand as I kiss him passionately, pouring my love for him into the kiss. 

Parting slowly, I rest my forehead against his, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Jake smiles softly, “The first time we met, I was in a wheelchair and got pushed down a hall. The force of the push caused me to hit you, and you fell into my lap. You could have yelled at me, blamed me, and so many others had.” Jake’s voice breaks as he licks his lips, “But instead, you took one look at the situation, and you apologized to me, even though you were the victim too before you hunted down the bastard and broke their nose, before chewing them out in front of everyone around. I knew right then and there that you were the one for me.” Jake rubbed his nose on mine as he couldn’t hold me with the two babies in his arms.

I curl into Jake’s arms the best I can, tears trailing down my face from the mixed emotions swirling inside me. 

“That long? And you didn’t say anything?” I whispered, my voice cracked. 

“You were so pretty and firey, way out of my league. I was just a dumb jarhead stuck in a wheelchair. I was just happy to be in your presence.” Jake wrapped his tail around, laying it on my lap. 

“You were always so much more than that. You were my first friend there, so kind and funny. I always had to stop myself from laughing when you snarked at Grace. You were always so strong and never took any shit. I knew I was falling in love with you, but the day you chose the na’vi over the humans, the day you betrayed your own species for the greater good, I knew I wasn’t going to let you slip away.” I explained to him, kissing him again softly. 

“Who would have thought we were both such simps,” Jake smiled into our kiss.

I giggled a bit, “Neytiri did. If it weren't for her, I doubt any of this would have happened,” I gestured to our kids. 

“That is tru-AHHHHHHHH!!!” Jake screamed, waking the babies and filling the air with their screams.

Panicking, I back away, trying to see what’s wrong.

“Don’t do that!” Jake yelled again.

“Don’t do what?” I scream in return.

Both the babies in Jake’s arms were squealing, terrified of the noise, as they waved their fists in the air. But Lo’ak was quiet. Looking down, I see the culprit of Jake’s pain. Right in Lo’ak’s little mouth lay Jake’s tail, clenched between those strong jaws and little teeth.

“Lo’ak’s biting your tail!” I screamed, trying to pull Jake’s tail out of Lo’ak’s mouth.

“I see that! Now stop pulling!” Jake's teeth were bared in a natural defense to the pain.

“Well then, how would you like to handle this?” I yelled back, barely hearing anything over the screaming babies.

“I don't know! Just do something!” He yells, trying to pull his tail out of Lo’ak’s mouth.

“Stop yelling! You’re scaring the babies!” I screamed back, trying to push on Lo’ak’s jaw to get him to let go.

Lo’ak’s squeaky growls add to the mix of screaming and whiling. Lo’ak does not want his new chew toy taken away, and he learned the last time to not let go.

“Fuck! Lo’ak! Let go!” Jake’s voice started to slip into a growl, fighting the challenge that Lo’ak started.

“I love you, but don’t you dare growl at the baby,” I hissed at him while still trying to pry Lo’ak’s jaw open.

“He started it!” He hissed back.

Kiri, either from fear or simply being done with shit, reached out and sunk her teeth into Jake’s shoulder, her growls adding to the mix.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kiri, let go!” Jake yelled out.

“Da fuck? Why Kiri?” I asked no one in particular. 

“Is everything alright in here,” I hear Tsu’tey call.

Jake and I snap our heads over to him, “NO!” We yell in tandem.

“What is going on?” Tsu’tey’s deep voice asked over the chaos.

“Lo’ak bit Jake’s tail, and Kiri bit his shoulder, and we can’t get them to let go!” I rushed to explain while my hand started to cramp.

“Tsu’tey, seriously, help us get them off!” Jake demanded as nicely as he was able to.

“Have you scruffed them? That usually works,” Tsu’tey asked, baffled.

“Why would we scruff a baby?” I asked, bewildered and slightly hostile. 

“Be-because it calms them and will make them let go?” He answered, questioning us and himself.

“You know what, I don’t care, as long as it gets them off!” Jake hissed again.

Slow Tsu’tey walked over as if we were aggressive animals waiting to ponce. Spotting Kiri first, he slowly moved his hand over the back of her neck, gently rubbing before holding onto the skin there. A confused noise left her as she let go. Quickly, Tsu’tey grabbed her and held her properly. 

“You scruff them,” He explained calmly.

Looking down at Lo’ak, I move my hand from his jaw and copy the same movements that Tsu’tey did, and with a bated breath, Lo’ak let go. Jake grabbed his tail in relief as we all started to soothe the distressed babies. All of us are now mindful of the little teeth in their mouths.

“Brother, I thank you for your help in this, but if Neytiri ever finds out about this, I will personally make sure you and Ninat cannot have children,” Jake murmured while rocking Neteyam.

“No need for that, JakeSully. It is a right of passage in parenthood. Neytiri will be thrilled to see those scars!” Tsu’tey laughed, “Eytukan wore the scars Neytiri and Sylwanin gave him with pride. He would decorate the marks on the day of their birth.”

I look at Jake, bewildered that this is normal here, and based on the look that he gave me, he was thinking the same thing. 

“How-how often does this happen?” I asked tentatively.

“About once or twice a child,” Tsu’tey shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I’m going to tap out of this tradition as a human who is highly susceptible to infections, and I know that those teeth can and will do severe damage to me. For my safety, that isn’t gonna happen,” I deadpan.

I hear them both wince at the thought.

“That may be a good idea,” Tsu’tey, the biggest stickler for traditions, admitted. 

“Fuck!”

All eyes turned to the shouted curse.

“Please tell me-”

“Fuck!” Followed by little giggles.

“We’re so dead,” Jake muttered, all the color draining from his face.

“We have to hide this from Neytiri,” I whispered back.

Neteyam looked at Kiri from across the room, “Fuck!” He shouted at his sister, followed by giggles.

Kiri waved her arms excitedly, “Fuck!” She giggled back.

Tsu’tey slowly stood up, gently passing me Kiri like she was an atomic bomb, “You two seem to have a handle on this. I will take my leave now,” With that, he ran away with his tail between his legs, like a coward. 

“Did we ever finish writing our wills?” I ask, as Neteyam’s responding ‘fuck’ travels through the air.

“The na’vi don’t have wills,” Jake answered, accepting his fate.

“Maybe she’ll kill us quickly,” I whispered hopefully.

“Uck!” Lo’ak shouted his first word.

Slowly, we looked at Lo’ak before looking back at each other, dread filling our souls. Neteyam and Kiri were thrilled at their baby brother joining them. Their laughter and shouts of ‘fuck’ echo through the room, all three of them filled with glee. Not understanding that they were going to be raised by a single mother soon.

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

[pasukiyo]

Hey, ignore if u arent still doing requests but I've had this storyline in my head for ages and I think ur a perfect writer for tom. Basically, the reader is a muggleborn but she attends Hogwarts and it's like half term where they are all home for a break. Shes either avery or lestranges adopted sibling and it's kinda been kept a secret from tom because.. well yknow shes a muggleborn lol(he knows about her now because her adoptive brother had to explain before bringing Tom over) anyways so hes at every or lestranges house for some reason (you make it up) and shes in her room, her adoptive brother needs something so he asks tom to get it from her desk in her room and they preferably have 🌶 time. Sorry if it sounds stupid but I've been thinking about this for ages!!😭

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!reader 8,104 words warnings: smut. sort of angst. also lots of prejudice against muggle-borns. read part two here. notes: reader is hufflepuff and muggle-born in this one. summary: every year, the lestranges will hold a christmas party for only the oldest of pure-blood wizarding families. every year you are locked in your room while the party rages downstairs, but everything will change when tom riddle is invited to this year’s party. everything…

 The Lestrange name definitely held some irony, considering how strange the family truly was. The Mother sent an owl at lunch, the rolled parchment dropping onto the plate in front of Tiernan Lestrange. On either side of him sat Clarence Avery and Liam Mulciber, who gazed down at the rolled parchment sealed with the Lestrange family crest with sparkling irises. 

 “Is it for the party, Lestrange?” Avery asked as Lestrange took another bite of his sandwich, dusting his hands off before finally taking a hold of the parchment, untying the ribbon keeping it closed. “More than likely,” he replied as the parchment unraveled, his mother’s handwriting gazing back up at him in inky black cursive letters. 

 ‘To my dearest son,

 Tell your friends they’re more than welcome to join us on Christmas Eve for the party. Invite that Head Boy you were writing to me about too. I am most interested to meet him, since you speak so highly of him. Remind the Girl that she is to not speak of the party, I simply cannot have any more of her kind in the house. I will see you at King’s Cross Station, my darling. 

 With all my love, your mother.’

 Of course, the Girl referred to the Hufflepuff sitting all the way across the Great Hall at her own House’s table, her head down as she ate, so as to not catch the attention of her brother or any of his friends. She didn’t choose this family— and if it were her choice, she’d be far away from them— and neither did they. 

 It was the fault of whomever it was who dropped her onto the Lestranges’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning when she was only an infant. The Mother had given birth to her son only a few months before, and found the crying baby on her doorstep to be quite a burden. 

 She asked herself why the Mother and the Father even bothered keeping her, for even before they learned of her blood status, they hated her. Perhaps it was to uphold their reputation— taking in a child who wasn’t theirs? It was the perfect foundation for the story of a kind-hearted pure-blood family— how could the Lestranges let that opportunity go?

 Of course, behind closed doors, she was treated less than a family member, some would argue far less than a house elf. She may as well have been a house elf if you ask her. She was treated like how they believed anyone of her kind should be treated— a mudblood deserved to be treated like the rubbish they are, they’d say. 

 Up until she got her Hogwarts letter, she believed them. She believed she deserved to be treated this way, that she deserved to be put through the torture that came with living with the Lestranges. She believed she had filthy blood, demon blood. 

 But all of that changed the second she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Of course, the Lestranges were at first very against letting her attend Hogwarts— mudbloods shouldn’t be taught magic, they’d say— but even they could only take so many letters flying through the fireplace or popping up in the stew before they gave in. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone of her blood status— “you are not to tell anyone of your filthy blood status,” the Father had told her with an accusatory finger in her face. “As far as anyone is concerned, you are pure-blood. So I expect you to act like it.” 

 Her school robes and supplies were not as grand as Tiernan’s, and she wasn’t allowed an owl or a cat or a toad. But she told herself that she would make do with what she had, and she felt at least a little bit grateful that the Lestranges didn’t give her tattered secondhand, even third-hand clothes, even if she knew it was all for the act. 

 When the Lestranges found out she had been sorted into Hufflepuff however, oh, it gave them all the more reason to ridicule and torture her back at home. “Of course the mudblood is in the weakest House,” the Mother would mutter beneath her breath as she and her husband read the letter their son had written. “We were fools to think that old ratty hat would sort her into Slytherin.”

 Tiernan and his friends— they made certain that her life at Hogwarts was just as bad as her life at home. Of course, Tiernan was the only one who knew the truth about her blood, Avery, Mulciber, and the others just tagged along because they found it funny. They loved calling her names, making her trip in the hallways, pulling pranks such as jinxing her school books so that they may not open no matter how hard she tried. 

 And still, she didn’t dare stand her ground, for she knew all too well that the Mother and the Father would catch wind of it, and make certain that she’d be on the first train back to King’s Cross Station. So instead, she dealt with Tiernan and his friends, just like she learned to deal with everything else. 

 But Tom… Tom Riddle was different. 

 Tiernan Lestrange and his friends worshiped the ground Tom Riddle walked on, and it was no secret. She remembered when she first saw Tom, all the way back in the Sorting Ceremony in her first year at Hogwarts. She remembered hearing his name ‘Riddle, Tom’ being called and she remembered watching as he approached the platform, settling himself down onto the stool. 

 She remembered the way their eyes met and she swore her knees turned into jelly when she gazed into those dark ravines he had for irises. And she remembered when the Sorting Hat exclaimed “Slytherin!” hardly before it had even touched a hair on his head. 

 And she remembered how disappointed she felt when she was called up to be sorted, the Sorting Hat put her into Hufflepuff. She wanted to be a Slytherin— she wanted to be wherever Tom Riddle was. 

 In all her time at Hogwarts, she’d never even spoken a word to Tom Riddle. They’d pass each other in the halls, but thanks to her brother, she’d never been given the chance to even tell him hello. And Tiernan made it clear that she never would. 

 So life went on, and she got older. She hoped that over time, she’d forget about Tom. But it was hard when he was made prefect, and when he was given the Special Award for Services to the School, and when he was made Head Boy at the beginning of their seventh and final year. 

 She remembered her fifth year during all the attacks on muggle-borns vividly as if it were only yesterday. She remembered how frightened she was when she realized it was muggle-borns whatever it was was attacking. She remembered the panic she felt when Hogwarts was on the brink of being closed— she couldn’t have that! She belonged at Hogwarts, not out there with the Lestranges where she was treated like vermin. 

 At least here, she could pretend to be someone she was not. 

 Of course Tiernan was no help, always taunting her and teasing her that she’d be next. She remembered when she heard that it was Rubeus Hagrid who had freed the muggle-born killing beast, how although she felt that it could not be Hagrid, she felt a sense of relief when he was expelled, when all the attacks had stopped. 

 And of course it was Tom Riddle who caught him. And of course it just made her admire him more and more. 

 But she would keep her distance. She’d admire him from afar. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment Tiernan would put her through if he found out she liked Tom Riddle. 

 “Yes! Looks like we’re invited, Mulciber,” Avery exclaimed, pumping his fist. Tiernan rolled his eyes at his friends, “you’re invited every year,” he replied, just as Tom entered the Great Hall, and they fell into silence as he approached. 

 She could see Tom over the tops of the heads of the Hufflepuffs in front of her, and she slowly sat up to get a better look. That was when Tom blinked up and she swore their eyes met, just for a moment, before he settled down into his seat, disappearing behind the heads of the other Hogwarts students. She felt herself flush as she hunched over her plate again, a small smile creeping onto her face. 

 “My Lord,” Tiernan Lestrange nodded as Tom settled himself between him and Liam Mulciber. Tom nodded in acknowledgement as he placed a few pieces of chicken onto his plate, and Tiernan’s gaze flickered from him to the rolled parchment in his lap. “My mother sent an owl,” he said, and Tom hummed in reply, nodding. Still, he said nothing. 

 Tiernan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, and Tom, with his eyes slightly narrower than before, peered up at him, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say. Tiernan turned pink beneath Tom’s stare, and he presented the letter to him, Tom’s dark eyes flicking down to the inky black words on the scroll. 

 “My family, we… we hold a Christmas party every year,” he said, and when Tom glanced back up at him, he flushed again. “And you would’ve been invited! But it’s only for the oldest pure-blood families, and, well…” Tiernan trailed off when he saw the shadow looming over Tom’s already dark gaze, and Mulciber and Avery shifted in their seats uncomfortably. 

 Tiernan cleared his throat again, “but I’ve been speaking very highly of you to my mother. She wants you to come,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. Tom pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he stared back up at Lestrange, handing back the parchment. “Yes, I know. I can read, Tiernan,” Tom said sternly, and Tiernan clawed at his knees to prevent himself from trembling. 

 “Yes… well…” Lestrange said shakily as he rolled back up the parchment, slipping it inside one of his pockets. “…I’d really love it if you come. We’ll all be there— me, Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott— and our families too, so you can meet them all!”

 Tom took a bite out of one of the chicken wings on his plate, placing it back down before wringing a napkin between his hands, gesturing towards Lestrange’s robes with his head. “Who is your mother referring to when she speaks of ‘the Girl?’” He asked, and heat crept back into Tiernan’s cheeks until they glowed scarlet. “Oh, you know… my sister…” he muttered, and Tom’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t she refer to her daughter by name?” Tom questioned, turning his body to fully face Tiernan, his interest piqued. “What does she mean by she ‘cannot have any more of her kind in the house?’”

 The other boys leaned in to hear what Tiernan would say next, and he knew now that there was no way to get out of this. He’d have to tell the truth not only to his friends, but to his Lord. 

 “Forgive me, my Lord, for asking this of you,” Tiernan hung his head and muttered lowly towards Tom. “But I must ask that you promise you won’t tell another soul about this. This goes for all of you, too,” he said towards Tom and the rest of their group. Lestrange gazed into each of their eyes and held contact for a moment with each, to make it known that he was serious. 

 Tom shrugged, “I promise.”

 Tiernan inhaled a shaky breath, before finally saying, “she… as you know, is not my sister,” he began. “And she’s not pure-blood, either. She’s a mudblood.”

 Mulciber, Avery, and the others all leaned closer and broke into a sea of murmurs, “that sure explains a lot. But a mudblood? In the Lestrange family?” Tom remained silent as he stared at Lestrange, beckoning for him to continue. “Her filthy muggle parents left her on our doorstep after she was born. My mother and father took her in purely out of the goodness of their hearts,” Tiernan sat up and stuck out his chest proudly. “And they kept her, even when they learned where she came from. So you see now why she never comes to the party. Mother always tells guests she’s never home for the party anyways.”

 The boys all laughed and ridiculed her while Tom, again, remained silent, staring absentmindedly down at his plate. He wasn’t sure what to think, how to feel. All this time he’d spent watching her, only catching glimpses of her from afar when he felt a gaze on him, watching as she turned away whenever she saw him with Tiernan and the others. 

 All this time he secretly lusted after her, the outcast of her family, the black sheep of the family. All this time he felt some sort of connection to her, all this time he felt he could relate to her because he, too, felt like an outcast. The outcast of the orphanage he grew up in, the outcast of the Gaunt family, the outcast of his muggle father’s family. 

 Tom Riddle never belonged anywhere, but he belonged here, at Hogwarts. And he knew she felt the same. 

 But would things change now that he knew she was muggle-born? Should he feel disgusted with himself now for ever thinking of pursuing her, for ever thinking of taking her in whichever way he pleased? Was it wrong of him to still lust for her, to still think of having his way with her? 

 Tom was clever but this, this he wasn’t sure of. 

 “So where has she been hiding during the parties?” Liam Mulciber asked, and Tiernan Lestrange snickered. “Mother and father force her up into her room. Says they’ll punish her accordingly if they hear even the smallest of noises coming from her room,” he replied, the boys erupting into another fit of snickers. Tom was still silent as he stared at his plate— he suddenly didn’t feel like eating. 

 The next day, she and a group of other Hogwarts students waiting to go home for the holidays gathered at Hogsmeade station, waiting for the arrival of the train. She snuck glances over to where Tiernan and his friends stood together, Tom in the middle of them all. She flushed and turned away when his head began to turn, and she moved to hide herself behind a few of her fellow Hufflepuffs, safe away from Tom Riddle’s view. 

 The train’s whistle echoed as the train emerged, slowing down to a stop before them. She dared gaze back over to where Tiernan stood with his friends as she waited for the doors to open, and when she did, Tom was no longer looking her way. She let herself stare for a little moment longer before she felt someone tap her shoulder, and blinked at the Hufflepuff girl in front of her with brown skin and shoulder length black hair she recognized as Clara Wingrave. 

 “Are you coming?” Clara asked, a furrow in her brow. She blinked and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat back down. “Yes, sorry Clara,” she mumbled as she followed the Hufflepuff girl onto the train, sliding into the seat opposite the one Clara chose. She sighed as she settled herself into the seat just as footsteps thundered through the train, and she hardly had any time to register what was happening before their compartment door slid open, revealing none other than Tiernan Lestrange, Clarence Avery, and Liam Mulciber, Tom and the other three boys nowhere in sight. 

 Clara narrowed her eyes at their intruders, “hey, go find your own—“

 “Shut it,” Mulciber hissed towards her. “No one allowed you to speak.”

 Clara’s glare hardened as Tiernan leaned down to block his adopted sister’s view, his lips curving into a cheshire grin. Her hands balled into fists, and she suddenly felt the strongest urge to slam them right into that crooked smile of his. 

 “Mother sent the owl this afternoon,” Tiernan muttered, and he needn’t elaborate, for she was already used to the rules she was forced to follow every year during the annual Lestrange Christmas party. “Oh yeah? And let me guess…  I’m not to speak of the party, I’m not to attend the party, I’m to stay up in my room and if I make even the smallest of noises, I’ll be punished accordingly? Is that all?” She asked quietly, so that the girl across from her could not hear. 

 Tiernan scowled and grabbed for her throat, much to Clara’s shock as she shrieked, giving her a firm shake. She pressed her lips closed and gazed into Tiernan’s dark umber eyes as they gleamed with mischief. “You dare give me attitude?” He tsked. “You just wait. I’ll tell mother and father about this and—“

 “—Tiernan? Won’t you leave her alone for Merlin’s sake, the train is about to leave.”

 She along with Clara, Tiernan, and his friends snapped their heads to the open compartment door where the Head Boy now stood, a furrow in his brow. He narrowed his eyes every so slightly, and he looked irritated. She flushed when she saw him and turned away as Tiernan released her, dusting off his clothes. She glimpsed up at him as he turned to leave, not without making sure to flash a dirty look her way over his shoulder before he slid the compartment door closed behind him. 

 “What the hell was that about?” Clara gasped and shook her head in disbelief. “I know it is common for siblings to fight, but that was just absurd.”

 She shook her head as she shifted in her seat, gazing out the window as the train began to move, and Hogsmeade station grew further and further away until it disappeared altogether. 

 “He’s not my brother.”

 The train ride back to King’s Cross Station seemed to go by quicker than usual, much to her dismay. She wished she could stay on the train forever rather than have to go back to living with the Lestranges, and wished that she had an invisibility cloak so that she could hide and be on her way back to Hogwarts within the hour. 

 But, since she didn’t, she sighed as she collected her bag with her few belongings and exited her compartment, stepping out of the train and onto Platform 9¾, where her eyes immediately fell upon the Mother and the Father where they stood, eyes narrowed when they fell upon their muggle-born adopted daughter. She huffed as she made her way over to them, standing beside the Mother with a considerable amount of distance between them. 

 “Where is my son?” The Mother asked through gritted teeth, and she shrugged her shoulders. “He and his friends should be getting off soon,” she replied, not daring to turn to look at the Mother. Sure enough, almost as soon as she finished saying it, there stepped out Tiernan and his friends, Tom Riddle close behind. The other boys left to greet their own parents, but Tiernan and Tom made their way over to where she stood beside the Lestranges, and she flushed. 

 Why was Tom coming over here?

 “Tiernan,” the Mother smiled, drawing her son into her chest for a hug. “And you must be… Tom, is that right? Hogwarts’ Head Boy?”

 She glanced over to where Tom stood, a charming smile plastered his face and she could feel heat creep back up her neck. She turned away from him before he could catch her staring.

 “It is nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Lestrange,” Tom greeted them, shaking Mr Lestrange’s hand and giving the top of Mrs Lestrange’s a polite kiss. “Oh!” Mrs Lestrange giggled. “I like this one. The manners!”

 Tom flashed his best smile but snuck a glimpse over to where the Lestranges adopted daughter stood, her arms crossed over herself as she looked anywhere but at him. He eyed her up and down just as Mrs Lestrange clutched either of his forearms, and he was forced to tear his attention away from the girl behind her.

 “Tiernan here tells me you’re from the orphanage?” Mrs Lestrange asked and Tiernan felt like shriveling away beside Tom. Tom only nodded in reply to which Mrs Lestrange tutted, “how about this? You’re welcome to come and stay with us for the holidays. We’d be delighted to have you.”

 She froze at this and her lips fell agape with the intent to protest, but nothing came out. She knew nothing she said would matter anyways, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle being around Tom for the entirety of the holidays. She’d been comfortable leaving him at a safe distance away from her at school, but now she’d have to deal with seeing him at the Lestranges? She simply wouldn’t be able to trust herself being around him for so long. 

 “Thank you for your hospitality,” Tom beamed as Mrs Lestrange fussed over him, leading him away from the platform, and she, the Father, and Tiernan followed close behind. Tiernan made a point of ramming his shoulder into her every once in a while, and it took everything within her to control herself, to not shout or push him away. The Father saw this was happening but did nothing to stop it. 

 It wasn’t longer before they finally entered the Leaky Cauldron and made their way to the fireplace, and they each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. The Father went first, then Mrs Lestrange, and Tiernan before it was down to her and Tom. It occurred to her that this was the first time they had ever been alone together, and she forced herself to look away as he stepped into the fireplace. 

 Tom was no stranger to her shy nature. He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, watching as she peeked over at him only to find he was staring, and looked away again. He smiled, exclaimed “Lestrange Manor!” and he was gone, leaving her alone. 

 Soon, she too was back in the Lestrange Manor, and she nearly ran into Tom where he stood just before the fireplace. Her palms instinctively fell onto his back to find her balance, and oh, how she felt she’d explode where she stood. 

 It was the first time she had ever touched Tom, and she truly did not expect him to be so warm. Tom glanced back over his shoulder when he felt her hands on him and swiftly stepped out of her way, feeling her touch lingering on his back where she had touched him. Something ignited within him at that touch, and every doubt he had about still wanting to pursue her seemed to fray away. 

 He wanted her. 

 “Welcome to our home!” The Mother exclaimed with a smile as she dusted off the shoulder of Tom’s coat where some ash had fallen, letting her palms soothe back down all the way to his elbows. “Tiernan will show you where you will be staying. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

 She began to follow Tiernan and Tom as they headed for the staircase leading to the next level, but just before she could, the Mother grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her backwards to face her and the Father. She scowled down at her adopted daughter as soon as she made certain Tom was out of sight and leaned down until they were eye level. 

 “Listen to me, girl, and listen to me good,” the Mother said lowly. “You are to be on your best behavior while we have a guest in the home. You are to stay up in your room for the holidays except for meals, do you understand me, girl?”

 She blinked— normally, she’d hate the fact that she had to stay up in her room all hours of the day, but instead, she felt relief surge through her. At least she wouldn’t have to see Tom, at least she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself in front of him. 

 “Yes, Madam Lestrange,” she said as the Mother released her elbow, and the Father stepped forward, leaning down to eye level.

 “And you mustn’t leave your room under any circumstances during the party tomorrow evening,” he muttered. “If I hear even the smallest of sounds coming from your bedroom, I will punish accordingly and do understand, I will not show mercy.”

 She heard this rule every year, but still to this day, the way the Father threatened her sent chills down her spine. “Yes, Mr Lestrange,” she nodded and when the Father waved her off, she walked as fast as she could towards the stairs, practically sprinting up the steps and down the hallway until she finally reached her bedroom. 

 Tom and the rest of the Lestranges were already in the dining room when she finally bounded down the steps, and he could tell Mr and Mrs Lestrange were using all the self restraint they had within them to not blow up at her, most likely for his sake. He watched as she sat down across the table from where he and Tiernan sat, carefully only placing a small selection of food onto her plate. 

 He glanced back over to where Mr Lestrange sat on one end of the long dining table before looking over at Mrs Lestrange on the other end. Neither paid her any attention, or showed any intention of speaking to her. She didn’t seem to want to talk either. 

 “So, Tom, Tiernan tells me you’re exceptional at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Mr Lestrange said, shaking Tom from his thoughts. He forced a small smile as he nodded, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Yes, actually, I wish to become Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one day.”

 She listened as she finished her dinner as quickly as she could, but she didn’t stick around to hear the rest of Tom’s story. She gazed over at the Mother who only nodded that she may be excused before she gathered her plate and hurried off to the kitchen where the Lestranges house elf cleaned. 

 “Thank you for the food, Gimbel,” she nodded at the house elf who only nodded back as she set her dirty plate on the pile of unclean dishes the house elf had stacked on the countertop. She hurried back upstairs where she shut herself in her room, sighing as she fell onto her mattress. 

 All she had left to endure was breakfast tomorrow morning, and she’d be free of seeing Tom for the rest of the day. She rested her arm over her eyes, her heart beating against her chest. She couldn’t believe the boy she’s been pining after since her first year is in her house, staying in only a few rooms down from hers. How she wished she could talk to him, to treat him like a guest rather than act like he wasn’t even there at all. 

 She even, for a moment, wished she was a true member of the Lestrange family, so that she could be treated as an equal. 

 Tom hardly saw her for breakfast the next morning, for as soon as he and Tiernan had entered the dining room, she was seemingly finished with her food, and once again scurried off towards the kitchen as she did the night before. Tiernan scoffed when he saw this as they took their seats on one side of the long dining table, loading their plates with biscuits and bacon and eggs. 

 “I apologize for her… strange behavior, my Lord,” Tiernan muttered to home as Tom took a sip of milk. “She’s always like this, you see.” Tom didn’t care to listen to whatever else Tiernan had to say about his adopted sister. Tom had already made up his mind about her, it was how he’d find the chance to talk to her that was the problem. 

 She seemed to avoid him like the plague, and he knew he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all the rest of the day, since the Lestranges locked her in her room while they hosted their party. Tom was clever, so surely he’d be able to find a way around it?

 But as the time for the party to begin approached, he still came up with nothing. He had no excuse for wanting to see her, and with Tiernan practically breathing down his neck, he hadn’t any chance of sneaking away any time soon. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see her at all when the party began and Avery, Mulciber, Rosier, Dolohov, and Nott all came rushing towards him and Lestrange. He had no space absolutely no space and no time to sneak away. 

 “Don’t worry,” Lestrange was saying to his friends. “The mudblood is upstairs in her bedroom. Won’t be coming out at all tonight, that one.” The boys snickered as they called her names and made jokes about her, but Tom wasn’t listening. Even though it seemed as if all hope of seeing her tonight was lost, he was still thinking of every possible excuse he could come up with to sneak away. 

 But fortunately, he wouldn’t have to contemplate for much longer. 

 “Blast,” Lestrange cursed, feeling around his pockets. Clarence Avery furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his friend, the others soon joining in. “What is it?” Liam Mulciber asked as Lestrange emptied each of his pockets, coming up with nothing. “Left my damn wand in my room,” Lestrange muttered, and Tom perked at this. Lestrange turned to Tom and stepped closer to murmur close to his ear, “forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord, but I simply do not trust the others. Will you go upstairs and retrieve my wand for me? I can’t go upstairs, mother and father said I need to stay down here.”

 If Tom was the type, he’d laugh and jump up and down at the request. All day he had been trying to come up with some sort of excuse to slip away from the party, and now he finally had one. He cleared his throat and nodded, “of course,” he said to Lestrange before making his way over towards the staircase, but he did not stop at Tiernan’s bedroom door as he passed. 

 Instead, he walked a little further down the Lestranges upstairs hallway, stopping at the last door on the left where she was, the black wooden door the only thing separating him from her now. Tom raised a fist to the door and knocked, and for a moment, it was silent on the other side. 

 Who could possibly be knocking at her door?

 She knew it could not be any of the Lestranges, for they would’ve just burst through the door without any respect for her privacy anyways. It couldn’t be Gimbel either, the house elf never came to her room. She grew weary as she closed her book and set it down on the mattress beside her, clearing her throat before murmuring a low, “come in.”

 She watched as the handle to her door twisted and it swung open, and when she saw who was standing there in her doorway, she felt as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. She’d only ever dreamed of Tom Riddle being in her bedroom, but never before did she actually think he’d really come in here. 

 But there he was. There Tom Riddle stood, closing the door behind him and turning to gaze at her where she sat on her bed, his eyes entrancing as they were dark. Even from across the room, his irises seemed to pull her in like they were magnets and she was metal, and she lost herself further and further into his soul…

 “Forgive me,” Tom said, and she blinked. Those were the first words she had ever heard him direct towards her. “I would not usually barge into a lady’s room like this.”

 Fire raged across her skin, up her neck, and to her cheeks until they were seared with flame. She suddenly had the strongest urge to open the window, wondering if she had broken into a sweat yet or not. 

 She blinked again, and the corner of Tom’s lips curved into a soft smile. He knew he already had her wrapped around his finger. 

 “Your brother thought he left something in here,” he said, gesturing towards her desk against the far wall of the room. “May I?” 

 She could not think of anything Tiernan could have possibly left in her room, but she wouldn’t dare question Tom, so instead she nodded, and she watched as he strode across the room, opening her desk drawers and sifting through its contents. 

 Of course, Tom wasn’t searching for anything. But she needn’t know that yet. 

 “Hm,” Tom hummed, closing the drawers he had opened and turning to face her again, leaning back against the wooden desk. “Perhaps, your brother was mistaken.”

 She felt small underneath Tom’s gaze, and she felt as though she could curl herself into a ball right now and shrivel away. But instead she sat still on her bed, unable to speak, unable to move. Tom chuckled and she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally cursing herself for being so shy. Typical Hufflepuff, she could imagine her adopted brother sneering. 

 “You know, you should really join the party,” Tom said, hoping to break the ice between them. She soothed the skin of her arms with her palms and rubbed at her elbows, shaking her head. “The Mother and the Father won’t let me attend,” she managed to speak at last, and she gulped down the lump in her throat. 

 Although Tom already knew the answer, he still tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Why is that?” He asked, and she swallowed again, forcing back down the truth. She dropped her head and shrugged, “because I’m different.”

 Tom blinked, and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, still living at the orphanage he grew up in. For over ten years, he grew up unlike all the other children, and even at an early and young age, he knew that he was different. It wasn't until Albus Dumbledore came to visit him that he finally understood why he felt this way. 

 It was different in her case, because at least she knew why she was different. But they were still treated the same, like they were misfits, rejects, outcasts. It was then that he understood the connection he felt towards her with a different meaning, that he first noticed this string tethering them together. 

 They had both been lost before, but just like he had found himself, she could be found too. Tom could be the one to find her, for he seemed to be the only one who understood her. 

 Tom’s footsteps permeated her bedroom as he made his way over towards her bed, setting himself down on the mattress beside her. She flinched when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight, and it was then that it occurred to her just how close he was. 

 They had never ever been this close before. 

 “Why are you different?” He asked, gazing down at her as she peered up, their eyes meeting closer than they ever have before. For a moment she said nothing, only continued to lose herself further in the dark depths of the treacherous caverns that were his eyes. He studied her— her eyes, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, her lips. 

 It was no secret that she was beautiful, even Tom could admit that. But she was vulnerable, it was clear the moment Tom met her eyes again. And Tom could work with vulnerability. 

 “Well…” she trailed off, contemplating how much she should tell him. Tom’s fingers grazed against her knee and she trembled, her eyes flicking down to his hand and back up to his face. “You can tell me,” Tom said warmly. “You can tell me anything.”

 She blinked. Never before had she heard those words. Nobody has ever wanted to hear her story before, for they all thought they already knew it all by now. She was the child who was left on the Lestranges doorstep as a baby, the child the Lestranges took in to ‘raise as their own’ because they just couldn’t bear giving such a young girl away since they were so kindhearted. 

 So never had she ever thought she’d be given the chance to tell someone about herself, to let someone read her story. But there was something about Tom, and she felt like she could trust him. 

 “I’m… I was left on their doorstep as a baby,” she began, and Tom nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I was… I am muggle-born…” she trailed off, wincing as she searched Tom’s face for disgust, but he didn’t even recoil. He only gazed at her with that same patient stare, waiting for her to keep going. 

 So she did. 

 “They hate me for it,” she added. “For having dirty blood. I’m not sure why they kept me, I could’ve been a Squib or not even a witch at all for that matter. Thankfully, I got my Hogwarts letter when Tiernan did.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, Tom’s warmth drawing her even closer to him. “It certainly didn’t help that I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.”

 She swallowed the lump in her throat back down again, and Tom let his palm rest on her knee again, his touch warm, like a kiss from the sun itself. She felt relaxed when he touched her, despite how nervous she actually was inside. 

 “They treat me… so bad,” she whispered. “They treat me like I’m nothing.”

 Her voice wavered before it broke, and when it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to continue, the hand that had previously been resting on her knee retreated so that it may instead reach her face. Gently, he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her face up to his, her teary eyes searching his for something, anything she could hold onto. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, hope, anything. 

 So Tom would tell her what she wanted to hear. 

 “You are not nothing,”  Tom murmured, and her lip quivered the longer she stared at him. “You are somebody. Don’t let them take that feeling away from you.”

 She blinked and her brow softened, her vision blurring with tears. She was somebody. Tom Riddle thought she was somebody. 

 And somehow, that seemed to be all she needed to hear. 

 A silence ensued and they only gazed deeper into one another’s eyes. With the grip still on her chin, he drew her near and he leaned down to meet her halfway, his lips pressing against hers softly, as tenderly as he could. He felt the way she shuddered under his touch, as if his kiss was a tranquilizer, and she was becoming limp and pliant, all for him. 

 So he kissed her deeper, he kissed her harder. His tongue was warm in her mouth as she let him reign dominance over her own, her hands shaking as one cupped the side of his face and the other grabbed his bicep. 

 This was what Tom Riddle had been fantasizing about for years. To have her compliant beneath him, to have her completely under his control. He loved how easy it was, how easy it was to have her. Although he’d admit, this connection he felt towards her was growing, and it was growing at an alarming rate. As he pushed her down onto the mattress and trailed his kisses down from her lips to her jaw, he found that his heart burned, as if she had set it aflame, and this feeling was foreign to him. 

 He had no idea what this tenderness he felt was, whether he dared call it love or not. For eighteen years, he was under the impression that he couldn’t love, that love simply just wasn’t in the cards for him, and he was completely okay with that. 

 But this feeling, whatever it was he felt for her, came unexpectedly, and he was unsure whether or not he should embrace it or push it away. 

 For now, he worked at unbuttoning her blouse as he sucked marks into her neck, his tongue swirling around her collarbone. 

 She pressed her lips together to contain her noises as Tom slipped her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms, discarding it down onto the floor altogether. He made quick work of her brassiere, his lips previously kissing her collarbone venturing down between the valley of her breasts, sucking marks onto either mounds of flesh. 

 “T… Tom,” she mewled as he pressed a kiss to one of her nipples, kneading her opposite breast with his palm. He hummed in reply, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked the erect bud, releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. She squirmed beneath him and squeezed her eyes shut, arching her back up off of the mattress. “T… Tom, I… they will punish me if they hear me.”

 Tom smirked against her skin as he released her nipple from his mouth and kissed down her stomach, past her belly button, all the way to the hem of her skirt. He pushed himself up by the elbows as he hooked his fingers over the hem, beginning to tug them down her thighs. 

 “Then I suggest you stay quiet,” he said simply as he removed her skirt from her ankles, her panties soon joining the sea of clothes on the floor as well. 

 She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip so hard when he placed a kiss just above her aching clit, she feared she’d draw blood. Tom eyed her through his hooded stare as he teasingly dipped his tongue past her folds, testing the waters. He watched as her face scrunched and she kicked her legs, arching her back at just the simplest of touches. 

 So eager, he thought. 

 He soothed her stomach with one of his palms as he pecked her clit, watching the way she trembled and writhed, whining behind closed lips, silent pleading for more. Tears broke past the glossy barrier of her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks like crystals, and he smirked as he pressed his lips down against her heat, sucking her clit as it throbbed and ached to be touched. 

 She threw her hands down on the mattress on either side of her, her fingernails clawing at the sheets as he flicked his tongue up and down her slit, humming at the taste of her nectar on his tongue. She tried to watch as he lapped up the juices spilling down her folds before flicking his tongue against her bud again, but she couldn’t even hold herself up, much less keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. 

 “P… please,” she mewled quietly as one of her hands ventured down between her legs to grip at his hair, and she ground her hips against his face, eager for more. That was when Tom stopped and pried her hand away from his head, and she blinked up at him through her bleary eyes. 

 “Do you want to come?” He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, shouldering it off of him and tossing it to the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. She gaped at the sight of his chest, but he grabbed her face again and forced her to look at him, squishing her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question.”

 She trembled and felt her walls clench at his words, nodding up and down. “Yes. Yes please,” she whimpered as he tore his hand away from her face to work on his belt, tossing it and his trousers away until he stood before her completely in the nude, in all of his glory. 

 He was beautiful. And he was already beautiful to begin with but this, she never could have even imagined how he looked underneath the clothes. He wasn’t muscular or built like a statue or even a Quidditch player, but still, his arms and torso were toned, and his cock…

 She could feel her patience slipping away the longer he kept her waiting. She watched as he took a hold of his cock and stared down at her, maintaining eye contact as he gave himself a few pumps, his other hand absentmindedly stroking up and down her slick. She bit down onto her lip as she gazed up at him, watching him in anticipation for what was to come next. 

 Tom leaned back down to her face and captured her lips with his, unable to resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her again and again and again as he slipped inside of her, her moans muffled by his mouth on hers. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his skin, etching crescent moons into his flesh. Tom broke their kiss and let his forehead drop onto hers as he rocked his hips into her, slowly at first. One of her hands slithered to cup the back of his neck as tears streamed down the sides of her face, never feeling this good in all her years. 

 Tom let his gaze fall upon her face again, her eyelids squeezed shut but her face scrunched in pleasure, every once in a while muffling her sounds by pressing her face into his shoulder. He began to thrust harder than before, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing, beckoning him further inside of her. So he fucked her harder, and harder and harder and harder as if he intended to break her, to shatter her into a million pieces. 

 And maybe that was the goal all along. 

 Never has Tom felt this good, never had he felt so intoxicated by another person, and never did he believe he could be so attached to someone else before. Part of him hated it, part of him wanted to throw it away and stomp on it and set it on fire. 

 But the other part of him embraced it, another part of him felt powerful as he fucked into her with reckless abandon, powerful having someone underneath his control. He never imagined another person could feel so good, he never imagined someone else could make him feel so infinite. As far as he was concerned, he was doing just fine on his own. 

 But this was different. This was on a whole other level of power. He felt strong, even when she clenched around him and gushed around his cock, even when he felt himself so close to the edge, so close to releasing himself for another person. 

 He pushed away from from her and groped her chest with one hand, holding onto her shoulder with the other as he fucked her harder than before, without a care for how much noise they were making. He’d make it up to the Lestranges, he’d go down and tell them it was him making all the noise, it wasn’t like they’d punish him. 

 For now, he focused on chasing his release, on the way she felt around him, on the way he was so close to climax he could practically taste it. She sobbed beneath him and her lips fell agape with the intent of screaming his name but he clapped his hand around her mouth before she could as he thrusted again and again and again until finally he released, and warmth surged through her. 

 Tom’s chest heaved and he fell on top of her as she cried, motionless beneath him. Sweat made her skin glisten and tears made her cheeks swollen and sticky, but he found that he admired her all the same. 

 This warmth in his chest was new, and it was a feeling he couldn’t quite place or put a finger on. But if whatever it was could make him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was the most powerful being on this Earth, like he was infinite…

 …then surely he could learn to embrace it. 

a/n; oop this is the longest imagine i’ve ever written 🙈 thank you so much for the request anon! i wrote this one up pretty fast because i really liked the idea, it definitely wasn’t stupid! so i hope this is close to what you’ve been imagining!! and feel free to send in more requests if you’d like! i love writing requests!

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza 🥹🫶

[linddzz]

While yes, Viktor is confident too, but...

This man isn't shy? He's hyperventilating and nervous-tapping over the idea of giving a speech!

This man?

I guess Im not getting across like, the Vibe that I always see that bothers me? Viktor's got the social anxiety for sure, and it's VERY fair to assume that his condition makes him even more self conscious to be up in front of a crowd full of topsiders. He's pretty clear in episode 1 that he's aware of how topsiders see him and his cane use, and that's before his disability is even more visible.

But ALSO very few people ARE good on a stage in front of tons of people. And also there's a very specific connotation to "shy" that is beyond social anxiety.

Shyness to me, is its own flavor of social anxiety plus timidness. The actual definition is a bashful, timid nervousness. It has connotations of the wilting flower personality. Viktor, even when he's quiet around other people doesn't come across as nervous or timid in the slightest. His first introduction has him VERY confident and collected surrounded by enforcers and not taking Jayce being snappy and angry at him. As a kid there's more of an argument to be made because what awkward socially isolated kid isn't going to be shy. But at the same time he doesn't try to shrink away from Sky's attention, he still looks right back up at her, he just keeps on doing his own thing. Mostly he comes across as someone who does not know how to casually interact with people so he doesn't. He's got tunnels in his eyes lmao.

Viktor is complicated. Viktor is nuanced. It's why he's Ultimate Blorbo. He's withdrawn and awkward and not very good at interacting with people, but he's not timid about it. He is very self assured in himself.

But when I say fandom makes him shy it IS much more of the wilting flower timid woobie that I kept seeing in Season1 fics. There was SO MUCH of Viktor being the nervous soft spoken anxious thing who was just so happy Jayce was even giving him the time of day as if Viktor didn't sass Jayce about his notes right after he stopped the man from jumping lmaoooo

And idk not to be TOO OBVIOUS with my projecting but it's the part of Viktor I can relate to the most. I consider myself a quiet person who gets annoyed when people think that me being quiet = shy. I'm able to speak up well on zoom calls with colleagues and I also would rather drop dead than have to go up on a stage in front of a bunch of normal people who I know were expecting someone very different. I get nervous and shaky speaking up in front of a crowd of colleagues even! but afterwards I can go right up to people like "your presentation was insane tell me more right now." I am often quiet and uncomfortable in large social situations because I know that most people there are operating under a different wavelength than I am, I do not know what the right responses to things are, or I full on do not know how to not accidentally come across as a huge asshole and I don't want to be an asshole. And when I was younger I would have so many people come up and act like I was a little wallflower (bc oh boy can I also relate to being quiet while physically small meaning being constantly infantalized) who "didn't need to be so shy" and every time I was like "I'm not shy. I just don't feel any engagement with this conversation and I don't want to be a dick and tell you that, but if you gently tell me it's ok to talk one more time I'm gonna start biting."

(It got better as I got older bc I learned that if you're quiet but making active eye contact instead of staring off into other directions - not to avoid attention but because you're just thinking of other shit - people will stop labeling you as shy and instead say "intimidating" or "mysterious" which is also hilarious when what you're thinking about is "machine herald big naturals lmao" but it's better than being labeled "shy")