#my dad taught me how to properly cut one up the other day

[klonpa]

did yuo know you can eat appls whenevrr you want. you can chop up an apple snd dip it in things at your leisure

[randxmthxughts]

You'll be a great dad - Tsu'tey one-shot

summary: tsu'tey is overwhelmed with anxiety and fear upon hearing the news of his mate's pregnancy and becoming a father, but like a good friend, jake is there to calm him down

wc: 1.3k

contains: just reader being pregnant, jake and tsu'tey are bros

a/n: ahh, i missed writing so much, i had to post another fluff today. esp after finishing the unrequited series, i can't let go of tsu'tey and the idea of dad!tsu'tey, so you must suffer with me. replies and reblogs are requireeed

masterlist

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Tsu’tey paced around the lab with a concerned look on his face, making Jake feel slightly dizzy. It was already chaotic enough with the kids running around and touching everything they weren’t supposed to, so Tsu’tey’s restlessness only added to Jake’s headache.

“Tsu’tey, for the love of God, can you please sit down?” he asked tiredly, running a hand through his hair.

Tsu’tey shot him an angry glare, but eventually complied and slowed his frenzied pacing. He sank onto an empty bed beside Jake, his eyes glazing over as he absentmindedly watched Lo’ak drag Kiri by her kuru, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from her. The bickering between the kids and Jake’s raised voice attempting to separate them faded into the background as Tsu’tey's mind raced with worry for you. Something wasn't right. 

It had been two days since you decided to be a little adventurous and try some of the sky people's food, egged on by Jake. Tsu’tey had warned you to stay away from it, but as you disobeyed, you were suffering the consequences that same night, and the night after that. And it wasn’t going away, which made Tsu’tey grow increasingly frightened.

You had a restless night, tossing and turning with waves of nausea until you finally vomited early in the morning. Tsu’tey couldn’t help but snicker at you for not heeding his warnings, and lectured you about how nothing good came from the sky people and that you should have known better. But when the vomiting persisted into the next day, his amusement quickly washed away making place for worry. He insisted that you saw Tsahik, but despite her doubts, it was still too early to tell anything. So, when Jake suggested taking you to the lab, with no other options left, Tsu’tey reluctantly agreed. He didn’t trust it, but he was desperate to see you back on your feet and sleeping soundly beside him at night.

“Why are they taking her blood?” he asked protectively, as he glared through the glass window into the room where you were seated, your arm extended and a needle piercing your skin. 

“To run a few tests, figure out what’s wrong,” Jake explained with a calm voice, placing a comforting hand on Tsu’tey’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, it’s normal.”

Tsu’tey hummed but it wasn’t like he could calm his nerves. Time seemed to drag on endlessly as they kept you in the back room, running test after test. And even seated next to Jake, Tsu’tey couldn’t stop tapping his foot in annoyance. His eyes wandered over to the three kids, Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri, who were playing around with one of the large machines. They were pressing buttons that didn’t light up like on the other equipment, and Tsu’tey smiled weakly, assuming that it must not be working.

“Lo’ak, play nice,” Jake warned his youngest, then turned to look at Tsu’tey, “I swear, ever since he was born, I started finding gray hair all over my head.”

“At the rate he’s going, you’ll be back with Eywa in no time,” Tsu’tey joked for the first time in a day, “Give it a few more years.”

“Be careful what you wish for, buddy. If that happens, you'll have to step up and help Neytiri with the kids as their uncle,” Jake chuckled with an amused tone.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Tsu’tey grinned, “I’ll make sure those little monsters learn how to hunt properly. Not the way their daddy taught them.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Their banter was cut short when Norm walked into the room with a quick, “Good, you guys are still here.” Immediately, Tsu’tey rose to his feet, his ears and tail perked up in alert. Jake stood up too, eyeing the thick folder in Norm’s hands.

"What is wrong with her? Is she alright?" Tsu’tey asked with a frown, urging Norm to speak.

“Yes, she is alright, don’t worry," Norm answered calmly, bringing a slight relief to the two men, "We got her blood work back, ran some tests, and everything is normal."

“Where is she?”

“She's in the back room, taking a nap,” Norm shrugged, “She was exhausted, so we let her rest for a while.” “Yes, she hasn’t slept for two nights,” Tsu’tey grumbled in annoyance.

“Was it food poisoning?” Jake interjected.

Norm tensed up slightly, biting the inside of his cheek, as if he was holding back information. Tsu’tey and Jake exchanged a look, waiting for Norm to continue.

“No, not food poisoning,” he finally answered, “But it’s better if she knows first.”

“Talk,” Tsu’tey ordered with a stern voice, not known to tolerate any ambiguity. Especially not when it concerned your health.

“I’ll have to talk to her, it’s kind of personal,” Norm said sheepishly.

“Spill it,” the man took a step closer, his tone intimidating. Jake rushed to step in between the two, placing a hand on Norm’s shoulder to defuse the tension.

“What is it, Norm?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it's just that I think she should be the first to know...” he trailed off.

“Oh,” Jake’s face lit up with realization, “Is she…?”

Norm nodded, backing away from Tsu’tey.

“What? What's going on?” Tsu’tey demanded, growing more agitated by the second.

“I think he means that Y/N is pregnant,” Jake said, grinning from ear to ear.

Tsu’tey looked in between them a few times, struggling to process the information. He turned to Norm again, pointing at the papers in his hands.

“So, is she healthy?”

“Yes, everything looks good,” Norm said, “Congratulations, man.”

“You’re going to be a dad,” Jake chimed in, squeezing Tsu’tey’s shoulders with an encouragement. 

Content with Norm’s answer that you were alright, Tsu’tey hardly registered anything else past that. The men stared at him in anticipation to say something, anything, about your pregnancy, but Tsu’tey remained silent, unable to form a coherent response.

“Well, aren’t you happy?” Jake nudged him.

“About what?”

“About Y/N being pregnant?” Jake let out a chuckle of disbelief.

Tsu’tey frowned, taking a seat on the bed again. His mind was in a whirlwind of thoughts at the news, chest tightening with anxiety of becoming a father. The distant screams of the Sully kids were like the high-pitched screeches of Toruk to his ears, only adding to the panic he felt. He was not ready to be responsible for a new life, and there were so many things to prepare. 

Norm mumbled something about checking on you, and Jake nodded before taking a seat next to his friend. While it was unusual to see Tsu'tey so zoned out, Jake could understand how scary the thought might have seemed to him.

“Aren’t you happy? I’m sure you thought about having kids with Y/N before.”

“I have,” Tsu’tey confirmed with a nod.

“Then this shouldn't be as much of a surprise to you, right? I mean, if you didn’t hold back…” Jake teased with a knowing smile.

“You and your disgusting sky people talk,” he spat in annoyance.

“But seriously, man, it might seem scary but it’s actually not,” Jake gestured at his kids, who were now occupied with Grace’s old diary logs, “All you have to do is keep them fed and play with them a couple of times a day, and they’re happy. And once they stop breastfeeding, they might even notice that they have a dad too.”

Tsu’tey smiled at his words weakly, grateful for the reassurance. Sure, he was still anxious about messing it up and not being a good father, but he couldn’t help the excitement starting to bubble up in his chest. 

“I mean, even my kids like you, so I think you’ll be a great dad, Tsu’tey,” Jake patted his shoulder with a toothy grin, “And Y/N will be a wonderful mother. Seriously, your kid would be lucky to have you two as parents.” “Thank you, Jake Sully,” Tsu’tey stood up with a sparkle in his eyes, “I’ll go find her.”

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taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @bigdikzaddy @awriana @scarletrosesposts @abbersreads @mechformers @my-love-of-books @avatarbyamara @robin-the-enby @minjix @nilrilie @jakes-babygirl @grierpilots @suntizme @jakesully-sbabygirl @mechformers @lovedbychoi @netemoon @live-laugh-neteyam @jakesullylongjuiscyshlong @misscaller06 @darkacademictrash @itszmedawn @arminsgfloll @kireysii @crustskullz

[coq-ue-tte]

𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

(this is my first tumblr post so don’t mind me)

🕯 🧸 ☁ 🪐 🕊 🤎 🌙 📷

(𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐤𝐓𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭)

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

~ SAD HEADCANNONS ~

• Lawrence felt so guilty about not going back for Adam that he used his power as an apprentice to anonymously stalk Adam’s family, find his parents and send money to them to pay for his grave or to go towards the vigil.

• In an argument with Scott Tibbs (probably to do with the new album photoshoot) he broke the last picture Adam had of his parents.

• He began smoking and doing drvgs in his early teens, and this was one of the reasons why he fell out with his parents and got kicked out.

• After everything that happened to Adam, Lawrence took up photography to help remember him.

• Larry would also go to the parking lot where they first properly met, to reconnect with him.

• Afraid of the dark.

• After the events of saw 1 (if he magically escaped) he would NEVER lock the doors to the bathrooms he would use in public, in case he got locked in one again. But it would kind of annoy you because you’d have to wait for him.

• Went to a rehabilitation camp when he was younger.

• Adam met Daniel at a ‘Wrath of the Gods’ gig. But he saw him as a little brother.

• Daniel would rant to Adam about Eric, but Adam would relate to it all because of his own relationship with his father.

• Adam would often compare himself to the attention Scott got from women, this would make him a lot more insecure and self conscious .

• The photo of Adam (seen in The Scott Tibbs Documentary) was the last remaining thing Scott got from Adam’s apartment, the rest of it was taken by squatters…

• Bailed Scott out a couple times, this is one of the reasons why he is poor.

• Definitely had that one teacher at school that he’d just linger with because all of the other people in his grade/year pissed him off.

• Taught Daniel how to skate.

• HEAR ME OHT FOR THIS ONE BECAUSE I DON’T EXPLAIN IT VERY WELL !!!

~ Scott would definitely try and get with 18 year old groupies or Yk younger, but he’d definitely try and set them up with Adam too. Adam wouldn’t have any of this illegal shit and reassure the women that he was nice and didn’t want it.

• The iconic shirt of his seen in Saw 1 was probably given to him by his dad. It’s one of the last things he has.

• Gets into fights at bars bc he RUNS HIS MOUTH. But that doesn’t mean he wins them ….

• He waited every day outside of his apartment to see if Amanda was there.

• Liked Amanda because he knew that she wouldn’t run off with Scott.

• His parents definitely tried reaching out to him, but he didn’t want any of it.

• His parents put flyers and missing poster signs to try and get their son back. But it didn’t work …

• He had such a problem with Larry cheating on his wife because I get the vibe that Adam’s dad cheated on his mom.

• Died thinking that no one loved him. But there’s probably a lil bench put in his name in his hometown.

• Stalks his exes online.

• Got arrested for stalking and harassment.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

HAPPY / RANDOM HEADCANNONS <3 (yay)

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

• Hates cheese.

• Went to a blink- 182 concert back when they were REALLY popular.

• He was close to his grandma, but when she died, he kind of spiralled (this is kinda sad but cute :))

• Donnie Darko is his comfort character.

• Gets outfit inspiration from people like Kurt Cobain and Billy Loomis. (If you know you know)

• His couch is COVERED in cigarette burns.

• Owns a tumblr account <3

• Owns a wrath of the Gods fan page. We love a supportive king.

• Owns one of those TikTok accounts that just low-key aims all of his posts about Taylor Swift and the swifties.

• Had a buzz cut back in high school.

• Definitely be one of those people like “Name 5 Songs !!! 😡😡😡” Bro would love pissing people off.

• Loved Smoking at night to Jeff Buckley’s Grace. Loved that man so much.

• Definitely a comic book collector.

• Would love all- inclusive buffets :)

• more than likely got expelled as a kid.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

(that’s all for now <3)

[britcision]

So I went on holiday last week! Free camping at the family trailer! (Free as in we didn’t have to pay for the site, we did do some restocking for the trailer itself and all other expenses)

So lemme tell you how that went :)

Day 1: drove up, which took an hour longer than usual cuz half the roads were torn up (ah the Canadian seasons… winter and construction). Made it there, met parents for dinner, found out heating and AC were still down so it was gonna get pretty cold.

Parents were fine because they have body heat, but it hit something like freaking 5 degrees so we broke out the winter sleeping bags about it.

Oh and got a second degree burn on my arm wrassling with the kettle trying to work out how/why it wasn’t whistling properly when it boiled (this remained unresolved and it just kinda did or didn’t at random). The trailer had sterile pads but no tape to apply them with, but I carry that in my car so it was fine.

And around 3am, a fuse blew so the lights wouldn’t turn on. Fridge and microwave still fine.

Day 2: woke up to discover the fridge, which contained my $$$$$$$$$ shots for at least 3 autoimmune conditions which can’t warm up for 15 minutes or they’re worthless, was no longer working. Microwave was.

I checked almost everything, asked my Dad if I had to turn anything off before playing with the actual fuse panel (unscrewed by knife because no screwdriver in the trailer anymore?? For some reason??). He insisted on calling and telling me to retry every single thing I already tried, then told me “no you can just play with the fuses see which has blown”.

The lights indicating blown fuses are on the list of things currently not working. :)

Luckily, I did manage to find and replace 2 blown fuses and got everything except the heater and AC working again before the fridge got warm. We went and checked out some spots to maybe do cosplay shoots!

Day 3: got most of the way to a cosplay shoot but my dumb ass decided to switch contacts at the site rather than scare the piss outta the cashiers at the 2 quick stops we made on the way, and something kept getting into my dang eyes.

I flushed it 3 times, taught my partner to flush it, and then had to bap a disposable lens back in anyway to drive down the street to the hospital, because every single optician who could do the 2 second check I needed to tell me if there was still something in my eye or I actually scratched the cornea (again) closed 10 minutes before this began.

So we hung out at the hospital for 3.5 hours, me with my eyes shut for about half of it because OW, in full view of the one single little scope I needed to borrow to determine if I could safely put contacts back in and drive to the trailer an hour away (very bad idea if there’s an actual cut or scratch on the cornea).

Flushed my eyes 3 more times in their bathroom and the red went down enough and the right eye started focusing so I figured if it’s a scratch it’s a small one and can wait til the opticians open tomorrow so we went home anyway. Both eyes fine, but there was Definitely still something in them until the last flush because it kept stabbing me.

Day 4: picked up a buddy from the bus station to join us for the rest of the trip, went about some of our favourite local spots to see wild gardens and waterfalls and shit.

Apparently the bus lost someone half way up who was supposed to get off at a specific stop but didn’t but that wasn’t our problem so it was fine. Only a 45 minute delay.

Stole some sticks from the arboretum :) and got back in time to light an early fire and toast smores!

Day 5: buggered off almost all the way back to the hospital we’d been to before, this time to go see a fen full of carnivorous plants. The other two kept leaving me behind by accident but I had the car keys so it’s not my problem.

We somehow lost a second little nature reserve on the way back but it’s fine. We made it to a second waterfall before partner started getting some serious pains (possibly smores related) and joked about going back to the same hospital, but it was one of their usual ones so we knew how to deal with it. No more smores for him though.

Day 6: big cosplay shoot that actually worked, I have shared pictures! Partner was pretty much stress dissociating all the way down aaaaand we may have nearly killed our buddy cuz one of the times we went off-roading and climbed under a ledge they got so dizzy they nearly fell and we had to stop to rest… fortunately at the shoot site around the next corner, so we got them fed and hydrated and had a break ourselves, then got to setting up light and such while they rested.

I climbed all the way down to the waterfront :) and! Someone recognized Delicious In Dungeon on our way back, but not Mithrun because anime-onlies. I still win though, cuz our other two were doing Name of the Wind and I think a really specific stage production of Peter Pan (it’s a cool costume) and they didn’t recognize that.

On our way home the GPS did decide to bring us down a spooky backroads we’d never taken before, despite driving this exact route 3 times previously on this very vacation and many times over several years before that. So obviously we said “fuck it” and went to check it out, which was good fun.

Then we got home and set up for our last fire, tried out our new smores grilling contraption to make bacon grilled cheese (it was goooooood), and me or buddy must have knocked the stove at some point, because around midnight the gas alarm started going off.

While partner, the smallest and shortest and worst-lunged of the group, had been inside on a bug murdering spree with the electric flyswatter.

We kicked his ass out, I checked the stove and determined it was not a more mysterious leak we’d have had to disconnect the propane for and lose the water heater, and opened all the windows and the door to let the propane clear out while we looked up what to do with a propane leak.

Buddy got in touch with their mom the former nurse to check when we should go to hospital about the propane poisoning (again we joked about going to the same one but for him) and determined that yeah, he was definitely poisoned and felt real sick, but so long as he stayed outside and did not get worse, puke, or pass out, he should be fine.

So, it getting cold again, I retrieved the cold weather sleeping bag and we put him in front of the fire, debating whether or not the smoke would make it worse. (He’s fine, the smoke probably didn’t help but again, it got Fucking Cold).

And then we waited about an hour 45 for the propane to clear, as determined by me sticking my head in and sniffing to see if I could smell gas every 15 minutes. We did not inform the nurse-mom of this method because we didn’t have a better one (the alarm stopped going off 5 minutes in and showed a green light but it still smelled REAL strongly of gas and I got a headache around the hour mark and got buddy to second guess the last few).

Nothing exploded and we didn’t get in shit for the alarm going off real loud at midnight, so all in all a success!

Day 7: we packed up our stuff, tidied the trailer, and met up with my parents again to turn the keys back over and headed home the long way, via another waterfall.

This time they’d opened the end that was shut last year (and sealed off the end that was open last year) so we got to hike upstream for a bit! And found some nice ruins and trees and all sorts of fun things.

A long drive, but not a bad one, and we got home and got everything sorted out to take buddy all the way back to their home the next day and the camping was officially over.

Oh and also we almost missed a turn on the way home, and when I turned us around to go get it partner was Brutally Attacked by all of the luggage piled next to them and we had to pull over to dig him out and check he was okay

And two very nice separate old farm gents stopped beside us to ask if we were okay (two of the only three cars we saw on they road, not bad)

Overall: BIG Everything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong energy, but all things that we were able to fix by ourselves, which was a blessing. Buddy may be once again regretting coming hiking with us, because I don’t think it’s hiking if you don’t have to use your hands at least once and they don’t exactly climb hills on the day to day

(But we were SO nice to them and stuck to the proper trails almost all of the time and didn’t go do my favourite detour off the big rocky beach and climbing the cliffside or nothin!)

And my back only gave out a little bit yesterday after we got everything put away, and it’s fine now so overall? It coulda been worse.

But now I need a vacation to relax and recover from our vacation.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Week 2 - Day 7: House Fire

@the-three-shits-whump

Read it on AO3 at the link above, or find it below the cut:

Al often needed an escape. He knew his parents would be home when he got back from school. Typically, he walked. He didn’t want to go home that day. He couldn’t deal with his parents.

Trudy caught Al before he left the school, grabbing a coat she’d brought for him, slipping it on his and helping him zipper it. “Don’t tell my dad,” she said softly, also readjusting Al’s beanie so it was over his ears properly. “Are you going to the club today?”

Al nodded. “Don’t wanna go home…”

“Me either,” Trudy muttered. “Dad keeps making me try on dresses for some… I don’t even know. Some fancy thing he wants to take me to.” She huffed, walking with Al. “I’ll come with you.”

Hank walked over with them. “Hi Dee, hi Al.”

“Hi Han,” Al said softly. Being only six, he was still having trouble with the hard ‘k’ sound.

Hank didn’t mind it. In fact, he smiled and hugged his younger friend, then walked with him and Trudy. “Where you going?”

“To the club,” Trudy replied. “Come with us.”

Hank thought about it, then nodded. “Okay, but only for an hour cause I gotta be home for dinner.”

—

When the three arrived at what they called “the club,” they walked up past the overgrown yard, then into the boarded-up house. It was condemned, though they didn’t know that. They were just kids, how could they?

They slipped into the house, over to the space heater Trudy had set up to keep Al warm, along with several blankets and a few pillows both Trudy and Hank had stolen. Hank’s house was too far to walk for Al and Trudy’s dad wouldn’t let Al stay when things got bad at home, so they had set up “the club” for Alvin to stay in when he he couldn’t be home.

Trudy turned on the space heater, helping get Al under the blankets and cozy. Hank cuddled under the blankets with Al to keep him warm, Trudy also snuggling down under. “Good day at school?”

Al shrugged. “Okay.”

Hank hummed, getting Al’s homework out of his backpack. “What do you have to do tonight?”

Al shrugged, looking over at it, then pointing at the addition problems. “Add.”

Hank hummed, putting down the paper, then looking at Al. “Okay, so what’s two plus three?” Al frowned, looking down. Hank took Al’s hands gently, moving them so he had two fingers on one hand and three on the other. “There. Two,” he pointed at his left hand, “and three,” he pointed at the right. “Now, can you count how many you have altogether?”

Al looked at his hands, then nodded, counting them, then looking at Hank. “Five?”

“Great job. Two plus three is five!” Hank smiled, handing Al the homework. “Write five there, under that line.”

Al did as he was told, Trudy encouraging him and helping with his handwriting. It was natural for them to help Al with his homework as such. However, as the winter months had set in, it was getting colder out. The crocheted blanket Hank had brought, combined with the space heater that was a little too close, started a fire.

Trudy, who was sitting the closest, noticed first, seeing as she was practically underneath it. She screamed, tossing the blanket away, scrambling up. Her pants were already on fire. When she tossed the blanket, it caught some curtains on fire, making the fire spread even more rapidly. Not only that, but the space heater had been knocked over, heating some nearby flammable things as well.

Al and Hank scrambled up next, abandoning the homework papers, which quickly caught fire, along with their book bags. Hank and Al watched Trudy as she cried because of the fire on her leg, trying to fan it off.

“Stop, drop and roll!” Hank cried, seeing as they’d been taught that in school. Trudy got to the ground and rolled around, but the fire didn’t really go out. She was screaming in pain now, as her flesh started to burn.

Because of Trudy’s screams, Al whimpered and covered his ears, falling to the ground and curling up in a ball. He rocked back and forth, whimpering and wanting the screeches of his older sister to stop. She was being far too loud.

Hank kneeled beside Al, trying to get him up as the smoke quickly started to suffocate him. Finally, the fire on Trudy’s leg was out, but she was still screaming in pain. Hank moved between Al and Trudy, not knowing what to do as the flames got closer. He started crying himself, running away and up the stairs, into a bedroom closet to hide, covering his own ears so that he didn’t hear the screams of his best friends downstairs as they succumbed to the fire.

—

When the fire company arrived, they immediately took to putting water on the fire. Seeing as the building was condemned, they hadn’t taken in a search and rescue team. However, a neighbor ran up and told them about the screams earlier on, and that three kids had been seen in there. The team geared up, but the battalion chief told them they weren’t allowed to go in. It was far too dangerous. Instead, they put the fire out from afar.

Richard Voight showed up to the scene, sighing as he got out of his squad. He walked over to the chief on scene. “What do we got?”

“Condemned building. We just put the fire out, starting recovery. The woman over there said she saw some kids go in, but they didn’t come back out. She’s hysterical that we didn’t go in to find them, but I wasn’t risking the lives of my men.”

Richard nodded, sighing as he went over to the woman. “Ma’am,” he said softly. “Hi, I’m Officer Voight with CPD. Mind if I get a full statement from you?”

“Yes, oh, I’ve seen these three kids come in and out of that building for something like a week now. They went in there earlier, after school.”

“Okay, and can you describe them to me?”

“All three had darker hair, brown or black, and they were elementary kids. Probably seven? Something like that? They had their backpacks and such, so I figured they came straight from the school.”

“Voight,” the chief called, motioning him over.

“One moment,” he said to the woman, then walked over as the firefighters pulled out a young girl’s body. Half the face was burnt up, but the other half could clearly be seen. Richard got sick to his stomach. “Oh, fuck.”

“Pretty bad,” the chief replied as the girl was laid on a stretcher, a sheet covering her body.

“No, I… I know her, she’s my son’s friend.” Tears came to his eyes. “Did any of the kids make it out?”

“We haven’t seen any around. It’s possible.”

Another body was carried out, much smaller and frail. His back was burned, but his front was still intact, revealing little Alvin. Richard’s mouth ran dry as the tears streaked down his face. “Please…” he whispered as Al’s body was covered with a sheet. “Please, please…”

Richard stood there waiting,which seemed like forever as the firefighters did overhaul. It only took about five minutes before a third child was carried out - his son. Richard ran over. “Henry!”

“He’s alive, I think,” the young firefighter said, laying him down on the gurney for the ambulance. “Found him in a closet upstairs.”

The paramedics took his pulse, looking him over. “Weak pulse, very faint, but it’s there. We have to get him to the hospital, now. He’s taken in a lot of smoke.”

Richard rode with the paramedics in the ambulance, holding his son’s charred hand, tears dripping off his face. “Oh, fuck…” he mumbled. “Come on, Henry… fight for it… fight for me… fight for your mom, please…”

—

Richard walked out of the hospital. The silence was deafening. How could he just be gone?

His wife had been called, as were Al’s parents and Trudy’s. His wife got there first, hanging on him and sobbing, but Richard could barely hear as he stared ahead, not looking at anything. He blinked, tears still streaking down his cheeks. Robert arrived next, screaming at Richard and crying, asking him why it had happened. Suddenly, Richard was against a wall, his head pounding. It wasn’t anything compared to the pain in his heart. His wife screamed at Robert to get off him.

Then, Al’s parents arrived, also getting in on the screaming. The three screamed at one another as Richard was helped up and into an exam room. His head was bleeding. His wife was holding his hand, still sobbing as he sat on the exam table, her forehead on his thigh. He felt nothing but pain in his soul, especially when the firemen came to the hospital, explaining the situation around how the fire started. Richard knew they had only been trying to help Al. His son gave his life trying to help his friend. What could be more noble than that?

[yurayura-kurage]

A3! Troupe Event: MY WORST WEDDING | Event Story Translation (6/11)

Neither Japanese nor English is my first language so please forgive me if I made mistake. However, feel free to point me out, I’d love to hear your feedbacks on the translation ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Translation under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sakyo’s mother: The pudding parfait here is filling and delicious. How about you Hyodo-kun?

Juza: Thanks. Itadakimasu.

Azami: …

(Indeed, Sakyo’s mother really looks like him… She’ll look better with makeup. If I were to style her hair to go well with the wedding dress, I’d rather tie all them up into a bun…)

Sakyo’s mother: Azami-kun doesn’t like sweets that much, right?

Azami: Eh? Ah, yes.

Sakyo’s mother: Since you like black candy, how about this black sugar jelly? It’s slightly sweet and easy to eat. (*)

Azami: ––Thanks. But why do you, know I like black candy…

Sakyo’s mother: Sakyo talked about that, something like “Eating black candy is essential while in the run of performances.”. He often orders this delicious black candy, so he recommended it to me. 

Azami: (That guy, did he tell her that…)

Juza: …Sorry for taking your time.

Sakyo’s mother: No, thank you for inviting me. I always see Azami-kun at Autumn Troupe’s performance, and hear about you from Sakyo, but this is my first time I can properly have a talk with you so I’m really glad. 

I’m Hyodo-kun’s fan, but I’m also an Autumn Troupe stan. Is it the word you use to call an Autumn Troupe’s fan? Miyako taught me this. (**)

I also received a lot of souvenirs from your father, so please let him know that I really appreciate them. (***)

Azami: Eh–– Is that it.

(I didn’t know anything at all. Dad goes easy on Sakyo for some reasons)

Sakyo’s mother: Thank you for always taking care of my son.

Azami: Ah, no–– I’m the one that should be saying that?

Juza: Ma’am too, thanks for always sending me food and supporting me.

Sakyo’s mother: Don’t mind it. I’m also glad to hear from Sakyo that you enjoyed eating them. I’ll send you some delicious food next time. 

So, is there something you want to talk to me about today?

Juza: It is. It’s from Azami––

Azami: Actually, Sakyo’s sister came to our dorm the other day…

Sakyo’s mother: Eh? Miyako came?

Azami: I just happened to be there listening to the story with Sakyo, but about the wedding photoshoot, why don’t you want to do it?

Sakyo’s mother: That was why Miyako came to your dorm? I’m embarrassed…

Of course I’m happy to know that child’s feelings for me but… Even if it feels like celebrating a wedding ceremony when taking a wedding photoshoot now, my embarrassment will seem to win over joy. 

Most of the time I don’t know what to do, even when taking photos with the wedding dress on. I’m so embarrassed that I can’t stand just staying there.

Juza: This wedding photoshoot, is kinda similar to a wedding, then they’re gonna do stuff like vowing or like… Ki-kissing right?

Azami: Ju, Juza-san, have you ever seen it?

Juza: I’ve been to my relative’s wedding before…

Azami: Really…

Sakyo’s mother: Fufu. I’m too old to do things like wearing a wedding dress and kissing after taking the oath. That’s impossible. It’s embarrassing, and I can’t do that in front of my children.

But I appreciate your concern. You came all the way here instead of that clumsy Sakyo, right? 

It seems that that child also wants to be filial to me in his own ways but… He has shown me enough filial piety just by him doing his best standing on stage with such kind companions like this.

Azami: …

(If she says so, then we won’t be able to say anything. But even if it’s just a little, if she still has a longing for wearing a dress…)

(I think it’s better for both Sakyo and his mother not to regret doing nothing after all. It’s just that me butting in their story is kinda…)

Juza: …It’s true that you wanted to try on a wedding dress before, right?

Sakyo’s mother: That is true. However, if I were young, I might be able to wear a dress following the momentum.

But now I really can’t imagine myself in a dress, and there is no dress that will look good on me then. For now, I don’t have the courage to wear it. 

Juza: A dress that suits you…

Azami: (Shall I talk about Yuki-san’s advice then…? But is it right to impose my sympathetic feelings for my Mom on Sakyo and his mother without their permission like this, I’m not sure…)

Sakyo’s mother: You really don’t need to worry. I’m happy enough that you thought about it for me after all.

*Shifts to train*

Juza: How to say… She is such a stubborn one. 

I can understand the feeling of wanting to give up ‘cause you’re inappropriate for something. I also had that feeling ‘bout the stage a long time ago. 

No one told me anything, but I overthought so much on my own that I couldn’t even take a step forward. But now I know that it’d be a waste to think you can’t do such things, and to not be able to do something you really wanna do. 

If you might regret doing nothing later after bottling up your feelings, I think it’s definitely better to take the plunge and give it a try.

Azami: About that, I also understand…

(But I couldn’t say a word earlier… About the advice Yuki-san told me, and the cards too… I couldn’t say anything.)

*At Mankai dorm*

Azami: Director, do you have a moment?

Izumi: Azami-kun, is there something?

Azami: I’d like to try a new makeup plan, so could you lend me a hand as the practice model?

Izumi: Sure! Here, you can come in.

*Shifts to Izumi’s room*

Azami: …

Izumi: …How was it, being the lead after quite a long time?

Azami: …Everything feels different from when I played the lead in DEAD/UNDEAD. At that time I was inexperienced, so I was just trying as hard as I could, but it’s fun and also tough that I understand lots of things now.

Izumi: You’ve become more reliable. By the way, I heard that you went to meet Sakyo-san’s mother with Juza-kun today, right? 

Azami: Yeah, but why do you––

Izumi: To be sure, Juza-kun informed me in advance that he would meet someone outside the theater troupe today.

Azami: Is that so…

(Juza-san is amazing when it comes to things like this…)

Izumi: By any chance, did you talk about what the younger sister said the other day?

Azami: …Yes.  Sakyo himself plainly refused her, and I know it’s not something that I should stick my nose into but… I couldn’t help but remember my mother. Because she also said that she had yearned for a wedding dress back then.

Izumi: I see…

Azami: With Yuki-san’s advice, I also searched for dresses with a calm impression that might suit her age.

I met her in person today, and then ended up coming up with the makeup plan for her even though no one asked me to do it… I couldn’t say a thing in the end because I thought it might be intrusive for her, if I do say so myself.

Maybe, instead of Sakyo’s mother, I was just thinking about what my Mom couldn’t do when she was alive. But it’s just my ego being selfish.

Izumi: …But I think that Sakyo-san’s mother will be happy about how Azami-kun feels too. 

It’s true that everyone has things that they want to do for someone but cannot do it, right. About that, I don't think it's wrong to think of doing things for someone when you have a chance. 

In order not to regret this time, let’s try our best to be more kind to someone–– 

In that way, if you keep conveying your compassion to person after person, you will grow as a human being, and such feelings will be reciprocated and keep being conveyed, just like a circulation. 

Rather, perhaps for that reason, people will always remember their regret of things like “If I had done it back then” or “I should have done it that time”.

Even if it’s just your ego being kind to a certain someone, isn’t it able to be considered as a great love. 

Azami: Love…

Izumi: If there is something that Azami-kun wants to do for Sakyo-san’s mother, I think it’s alright to follow what your heart says. However, you should talk to Sakyo-san about it. Sakyo-san’s feelings also matter, right.

Azami: …But he wasn’t too interested in this either, and he told me not to do anything.

Izumi: Then why don’t you carefully ask him whether those words were spoken from the bottom of his heart or not? 

Azami: …Understood.

Translator’s note: 

(*) She was talking about Azami’s favorite food - kuroame (lit. black candy). Kuroame is a kind of hard black sugar candy.

(**) The word Sakyo’s mother uses is “秋組推し” (Akigumi oshi) so I translate the “oshi” part into ���stan” (which is a term from Kpop). 

(***) Reference to Sakyo’s MANKAI Memory backstage

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Previous || Next

[to-my-mom]

Dear, Mom.

The anger I feel in my heart is second to none. The pain that you’ve inflicted makes my arms and legs feel like they’re on fire, and like I want to use that fire to burn down the world.

You laughed in my face while telling everyone who would listen that I was an accident. You threatened to leave me on the side of the road if I was too loud for you. You kicked me out of the house at ten years old for picking my skin apart in a fit of undiagnosed mental illness. You drugged me in my sleep with your antidepressants all because I wasn’t happy enough for you after losing a loved one.

There’s so much you’ve done to me. And now that I’m away from you and living my life all these years later, I’ve decided to write you letters in the form of blog posts. Telling you every terrible thing you’ve done to me, and saying every terrible curse I want to tell you. I won’t tag these posts, or do anything to promote them, because nobody deserves to deal with what I have to say, nor do they deserve to bear witness to the trauma you inflicted. But I want these feelings on the internet, so that there’s a permanent record of my anger and pain.

Maybe one day you’ll find these posts, and you’ll read them. You’ll read every single word I have to say, and you’ll finally listen. Maybe you’ll even feel guilty. But I doubt it, because that’s never been your style. Because you’ve never been the mom I needed. Because you’re a monster.

When I was a kid, I thought you loved me. I did everything I could to make you proud- I earned straight A’s, made art like you, and smiled even when I was ready to die. But it never worked. I tried to be vulnerable with you. I tried to be sociable with you. I put on the pretty dresses and did the makeup and straightened my hair for you. I went shopping with you and listened to every order you have. But there was always something you had to complain about.

I wasn’t feminine enough. You asked me if I thought I was a boy, because I didn’t like pink, or to wear dresses, or wear makeup. I wasn’t white enough, because I didn’t straighten my hair. I wasn’t skinny enough, because I wasn’t stick-thin like my sister. I wasn’t smart enough, because I only made honor roll in eighth grade, rather than dean’s list. I was lazy, because I didn’t want to clean up dog shit at noon in the middle of summer. I was a slob, because I had adhd and couldn’t do laundry every week.

I remember when I was in elementary school. You stood me in front of you every single week, and told me that I was a “fat, disgusting slob” and that it’s no wonder people weren’t friends with me. You would yank my hair and say that it was a matted mess because I “didn’t take care of it”. When I did have friends, you would say that I wouldn’t have them for long, because who wants to be with a disgusting slob like me? When I inevitably lost friends, I would come crying to you about it. You would say “Well yeah, it’s because you’re a fat, disgusting slob. Nobody wants to smell that.”

I remember when you would get mad at me about my hair. It’s different than yours. Yours is straight, but mine is tight curls from my dad. I was never taught how to properly take care of my curls, and had to learn on my own. You would say it was matted, and gross. You would stand me in the kitchen and scream at me while waving scissors around. I was afraid you were going to cut me with them.

You would force me to sit perfectly still, at the threat that if I moved you would cut my ear off. You were dead serious. Then, you would forcefully cut off all of my hair because I “wouldn’t take care of it” and thus didn’t deserve it.

If you were too tired to cut it, you would take me to a stylist. I would cry and beg to not have my hair cut, and you would tell the stylist “Oh, she needs to have it cut really short because she’s a slob who can’t take care of herself.”

I still can’t stand having other people cut my hair because of how deeply you disrespected my hair and bodily autonomy.

Fuck you.

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[wardlowsbabydoll]

Sis! I wouldn’t mind seeing a part two to ‘Traitor’ maybe where Christian tries to make amends with the Reader?

Honestly nonny, I wasn't even thinking about making a Part Two to 'Traitor' but now here we are!

Here you go nonny! I hope you enjoy it!

Also... sorry this took so long, I still hope you enjoy it nonny!

Traitor (Part Two)- Christian Cage

Warnings: Mentions of parental death

Word Count: 717

You managed to avoid him like the plague. If you even saw the back of his head you were already moving in the other direction. It was difficult to do, thankfully your friends in the locker room would alert you to where Christian was so you knew to avoid that area. It was hard to not talk to him. In the months that he was your mentor he grew to be one of your closest confidants. It hurt that he would use your family for cheap heat.

            You had heard from Allie that he had been looking for you so you hid in the women’s locker room, knowing that it was out of bounds and he couldn’t go in. You knew one of these days you would end up running into him, it was only inevitable.

You were also prepared for him to take his revenge on you after you spit in his face, and slapped him. When you had walked backstage the night of the ‘slap heard ‘round the world’ as the fans had dubbed it you had expected to be fined heavily, suspended and possibly even fired. When you made eye contact with Tony, Matt, and Nick they looked stunned; they didn’t know what to say to you. To your shock, you hadn’t been fined or fired, but actually praised for your gutsy move. Tony knew how sensitive a topic Luke’s death was for you and usually you were quite timid so this burst of confidence shocked them.

After being in the locker room for almost an hour you decided the coast was clear and just as you were about to duck out of there you let out a squeal when Christian seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Leave me alone.” Were the first words to come out and when you tried to shut the door he put his hand there stopping you. “I wanted to talk to you.” He said quietly, almost unsurely which was new coming from him.

“Talk about what? My father, again? About how he’s dead? About how you never really cared about us? I understand our industry and I understand where things aren’t true. But this was something that was over the line. You knew how important my dad was, not just to Jack, but to me too. How do you think my mom and Sophie felt when you told them that Jack was a piece of shit?” You said, once again trying to shut the door but it was no use because Christian kept throwing his body parts in the way.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you—” you cut him off “But you did. You can’t expect me to trust you again just like that, all because you said sorry. Sorry doesn’t cut it this time.” He grabbed your arm slightly, making you flinch “Let me at least try and make it up to you, please?” You thought about it for a minute, he did seem sincere but you didn’t want to end up hurt again. Maybe keeping him at a distance wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Fine, but not today. Not now. I still have every right to be angry with you. I will let you know when I’m ready for you to make it up to me. Until then, please, leave me alone.” The minute you received a nod from him you shut the door in his face.

Pacing the locker room again, your mind raced a million miles per hour as so many thoughts passed through at once. The main ones being ‘How stupid can I be?’ ‘Why did I say yes?’ ‘How could you trust him so easily?’

The answer to the last one is you don’t. He taught you that you don’t just hand out your trust only to have it smashed, you make them work for it. And if they break it, they’ll have to work to gain your forgiveness. They won’t ever properly re-earn your trust, but your forgiveness is better than nothing.

Christian was telling himself that as he walked away from the women’s locker room. ‘At least she’ll forgive me.’

Two broken hearts began to mend themselves that day, they would never be perfect hearts again, but at least the pieces weren’t destroyed.

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[jojobee2256]

Dance for me

you grab your water as you wipe the sweat from your face with a towel around your neck. After a talk with your overbearing father nothing was better than dancing the stress away. Thank god for this job and your friends or you might've had to go back.

You take a look around the studio you worked at and smiled. the owner was a whimsical old man and he pretty much let you run the place however you wanted so long as he got his cut. He even helped you leave your house when you turned eighteen and rented the upper floor to you for cheap.

"not all old foggys are like dad." you remind yourself. "Assholes like him are one of a kind, hopefully." Feeling yourself calming down and having got your breathe back you move to start the song over again so you could continue to practice your routine.

BAM!

Just as you had reached your laptop the door slammed open and two familiar orange and pink haired women rush in. You could tell that they were a tad drunk by the stumbling and flushed faces. The party animals.

"I knew she would be down stairs and not at home!" Nami huffed proudly and started shutting everything down for the night.

"It's eleven at night! Forgive me for thinking goody two shoes had a bedtime!" Bonney huffed.

"Our little (Y/N) is finally getting into her rebellious phase, remember?" Nami started to walk to the door with your keys she had gotten from the table your laptop was on.

"True." Bonney then grabs you by the arm and starts to drag you out the opened door as nami turns off the lights and locks the door.

"Um, guys. Do you mind telling me why two drunk girls are pulling me into a taxi in the middle of the night?" You ask as the shuffle into the car. They had obviously come from a party looking at how they were dressed and the smell of sweat and booze coming from them.

"We are gonna show that snobby bitch who keeps trying to steal Nami's boyfriend she is nothing!" Bonney declares as she starts to mess with my hair and make up. "She had the nerve to flirt with Sanji saying she is a better dancer than her and even purposefully waited till she was to drunk to dance properly before saying it!"

"That's right!" Nami agrees while texting on her phone. "So I told her that she was a fucking coward and that she couldn't beat anyone who was taught by you if they weren't drunk and she knew it." You could tell that both girls were furious at the situation and had been trying to sober up the entire drive to your home. "She fell right into my trap and said she could beat you any day! So we told her we would go get you and that we would be back at the party in twenty minutes." Bonney finishes your make up and starts to fix hers.

"So I have to go dance a routine in front of a bunch of drunk strangers cause Kinderella is antagonizing Nami again?" They both look at you.

"Yep"

"Yeah"

You sigh as they both respond simultaneously. You did promise to go to a party with them sometime soon so why not now.

"Sure, I've been wanting to meet your friends for a while anyway." They three of you got to know each other at the studio when you were just a trainee, otherwise the three of you probably would have never hung out together. Excluding your loner personality even Nami and Bonney had different clicks and people they hung out with. So they had been trying to add you to their friends groups for a while and you honestly did want to meet new people.

As the taxi pulls up to a large house with blaring music and people scattered around the yard, you see a blonde man waiting by the door. You had only ever scene pictures but you knew it had to be Nami's boyfriend Sanji. The three of you get out and you instantly feel out of place in your work out clothes.

"Nami, I did what you asked and cleared the living room out." Sanji updated Nami with hearts in his eyes and a look of total adoration on his face. Anyone stupid enough to mess with Nami was already a lost cause, but to go after this guy? No way they would get what they want.

"Great!" She gives him a quick kiss and you could practically see him floating. "Let's not keep them waiting." You can't help but shirk back a bit as the evil grin spreads across her face. All that was missing was the gleam in her eye that let you know she was hatching a plan to make money and this would be her default villain face.

Once in the cleared out room with couches and a coffee table pushed to the side of the room, you notice the ridiculous amount of people looking in. The room had three walls while the fourth was a glass sliding door where people stood with red solo cups in hand. The room also had a balcony like second story area so that those on the second floor could look down from there as well. Despite all the people staring at you and the obvious anticipation for excitement in the room, you felt calm. Thanks to your father you were used to eyes being on you and as a dance teacher you learned that not all eyes were ones to be weary of.

Before you could even do anything else other than walk into the room, Nami had already gotten a betting pool started and Bonney was off looking for Kinderella so to make sure she was thoroughly humiliated.

By the time Bonney came back with the bob haired pinkette, the room was as packed as it could get while still having room for you to perform. Nami was locking her bets and Sanji had got things hooked up to his phone so that music would fill the house.

Taking a deep breath you have Sanji start the music. Tones and I's dance Monkey begins to play and you let the rhythm take your body as you begin to dance to one of the first routines you ever made and all three of you knew it like the back of your hand.

once your routine was done Nami pounced on you. She began to ramble about how you were her golden goose and other nonsense. Bonney on the other hand used the attention to try and score a new boyfriend. It seemed you were the only one to remember the point of the dance in the first place as you watch a red faced kinderella storm off.

After getting Nami off you by reminder her to collect her bets, you answered some questions about your dancing and advertised your classes. Once they questions started to get a little more personal you opted to leave under the guise of needing to get at least some sleep before work tomorrow.

You didn't realize at the time, but your classes were about to have a lot more students.

[oonajaeadira]

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

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Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job. 

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul. 

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work. 

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear. 

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure. 

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted. 

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull. 

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke. 

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?” 

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.”  His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?” 

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too. 

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s parent teacher conference

Warnings: IronStrange, Supremefamily, bullied Peter, dick head teachers, anxious Peter and homophobia.

-Peter POV-

"Hey Bambi, why didn't you tell us about your parent-teacher conference tomorrow night?" Pops asked sitting next to me on the living room couch.

"I didn't think you would've wanted to go? Dads not the one for school or teachers and you're -well- you." I explained tentatively.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Just so you know, we'll be there for around 5 so just after your decathlon meeting. It'll just be me and your dad so no need to be embarrassed." Pops told me.

"Thanks. This'll be the first parent-teacher conference I would've ever been to." I told him.

"Same kid. It's a first time experience for us all." Pops smiled at me.

"Not many times that happens." I commented resting my head on his shoulder.

"No it's not Bambi, no it's not." He smiled putting his head on mine.

-Next day at 5 o'clock-

"Hey Penis, what're you still doing here? This is a thing for kids with parents." Flash taunted walked passed me in the gymnasium as I waited for my dads.

"Shut up Flash, you know nothing about my family." I told him.

"You better watch your tone Parker or you'll have another black eye." Flash threatened getting really close to me.

"If you would be so kind as to step away from my kid, it would he greatly appreciated." Pops' voice spoke from next to me. They must've just arrived.

"Oh my God! It's Stephen Strange! And Tony Stark!" Flash all but yelled making the whole room fall silent.

"It's Stephen Stark actually. I didn't spend thousands on a wedding for people to not recognise my changed last name." Pops corrected.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fan of both of your works." Flash blabbered composing himself.

"Eugene! We've been looking everywhere for you!" A man, who I presume is Flash's father, scolded walking up to us with a woman trailing behind.

"Sorry father but look who I found. The Starks." Flash excitedly announced.

At this point I slowly slipped away from him and walked up to my Dad who gladly greeted me with a hug. I could feel the warmth of the arc reactor on my chest and it gave a strange comfort. After a few moments we let go but I didn't move very far, being so close to Flash made me really anxious.

"Underoos you okay?" Dad asked me worriedly trying to look into my eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine, just tired. I was up late finishing a piece of homework last night." I lied hoping Pops wouldn't say anything as I fell asleep on him last night.

"Wow Mister Stark. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. If you haven't noticed I try to style myself off of you." Flash's father said showing off his black tailored suit and aviator sunglasses and reached out for a handshake.

"I'm flattered but I don't do handshakes. I'm not the biggest fan of touching." Dad told him trying to give a convincing smile.

"Then why've you got an arm around Pen-Peter?" Flash asked making both my Dads give him the 'Bitch WTF' look. I hate that look. Dad was about to say something but I decided to cut in.

"So, why don't we do what you came here to do and speak to my teachers? Sounds great, let's go." I spoke grabbing Pops' hand and dragging him and Dad to one of my teachers.

"Who was he?" Dad asked in a demanding tone.

"Nobody important. Look Mr. Harrington's free. Let's go and talk to him." I rushed and pulled my dads towards Mr. Harrington's table.

"Ah, Peter and Mr. and Mr. Stark. Lovely to meet you, I love all you've done for the world." Mr Harrington spoke as we took our seats.

"Thank you Mr. Harrington." Pops said.

"No problem. So, I teach Peter Physics and I've got no problems. The only thing I would say is that he is often on his phone during lesson and doesn't listen that much. However with that being said, he's never got below an A+ on his tests. You should be proud of him." Mr. Harrington smiled.

"We are. Is that all?" Dad said ruffling my hair slightly.

"That's all thanks." Mr. Harrington announced and shook Pops' hand before we walked away.

"That was a really good report but who're you texting during class? It better not be one of the others or your dad." Pops asked and gave Dad a pointed look.

"No it's this guy I met online. His names Harley Keener and he seems really nice." I explained as I lead them to my history teacher.

"Harley Keener?" Dad asked shocked.

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?" I questioned.

"Sorta. I'll explain when we get home." Dad dismisses before turning around to face my history teacher Mrs. Keens.

"Wow, this is a shock. It's not everyday the Starks turn up to a parent-teacher conference. How are you both?" She rushed out slightly flustered.

"We're doing fine thank you. How is Peter in this subject?" Pops asked, straight to the point as always.

"Peter is amazing, always hands his homework in on time, always listens in lesson and has never received less than an A on a test. You should be proud of him." She informed smiling at me.

"Wow, our little goody-two-shoes." Dad teased ruffling my hair slightly.

"One thing that you may or may not be aware of is a boy called Eugene Thomson. He seems to be bullying Peter for whatever reason, I've caught him a few times throwing paper balls at Peter or sliding him malicious notes. I'm not sure if it's friendly or not but I felt you should know. Thank you." Mrs. Keens informed, may the ground swallow me up now.

"We will also discuss this later on." Pops told me sternly, oh no.

We left Mrs. Keens with a slight wave and headed back to the main area to find another teacher. My eyes landed on my English teacher who didn't seem very happy, this is not going to end well.

"Oh look, it's your English teacher." Dad commented and pointed to Mr. Malory. Fuuuuuuuuck.

"How do you know my English teacher?" I asked worriedly.

"Research department, making sure my son has the best education he can. Let's go to him now while he's free." Dad brushed off and started to walk towards him. God save me.

My English teacher hates me for no reason, always turns a blind eye to Flash, always nitpicks my assignments and finds any reason to not give me a good grade. He's also quite homophobic and has expressed on many occasions his hatred for my Dads and anything to do with them. He even leads a group called the 'Freedom from Starks'. This is so not ending well.

"Peter, didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Malory commented not looking up from his clip board.

"Well, this is a parent-teacher conference and I, as his parent, would like to speak to my sons teacher about his school work. If you'd be so kind." Dad said, his words oozing sarcasm and sass. He really did his research.

Mr. Malory picked his head up and stared Dad dead in the face. The distaste clearly shown on both faces as the three of us took our seats, Pops took Dad's hand, probably as a way to calm him down. This is worse than I thought.

"Well, if I'm being honest, Peter is the worse student I've ever taught. He's disruptive in lessons, throws paper at a wonderful student called Flash Thompson, slides Flash malicious notes and seems to find any excuse to blame Flash. His work is simply upgradable and I couldn't thing on a bigger lost cause than your son. Any questions?" Mr. Malory spoke and Dads face got redder and redder with anger.

"Really, then why did the last teacher we speak to say it was the other way around, that 'Flash' was the one throwing paper and passing notes?" Dad questioned leaning forward in his seat.

"Look, I don't know what happens in other lessons and quite frankly, I don't care. All I know is Peter is a major distraction and it's bordering bulling with Flash." Mr. Malory told us.

"What about his work is so upgradable? Is it his handwriting or the content of what he's writing?" Pops asked placing his other hand on top of Dads. This is getting serious.

"The content. The ludicrous stories of the Norse Gods and his 'adventures' with them are beyond reason. His stories are beyond the realm of possibility and are just ludicrous." Mr. Malory told them.

"His stories about the Norse Gods, does this involve Thor putting his hammer in inconvient places or Loki and black widow being kind and caring to others?" Das asked.

"Yes." Was Mr. Malory's short response.

"Well, it is within the realm of possibility as it happens. Every single day at the compound or sanctum." Pops spit out trying to keep calm.

"Oh well, maybe he should learn to be more creative with his stories." Mr. Malory spoke silently challenging Pops.

"Thanks sir." I hastily said before dragging both my dads out of their seats and walking off.

"No Pete, I would like to hear more about how much of a bad student you are." Dad argued challenging Mr Mallory.

"And I will be glad to provide. Mr Park-"

"Stark." Dad deadpans.

"Mr Stark is highly disruptive not only to Mr Thomson but is also always on his phone, sleeping in class or just straight up not listening. Honestly, his behaviour is a reflection as to why you people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, you simply don't know how to raise them." Mr Mallory continued to explain. Dad went red.

"What do you mean by you people?" Pops asked scarily calm as be placed a hand on Dad's knee to soothe him slightly.

"Gays. You shouldn't be allowed children because there's not a mother to properly raise them, I never had these issues when Peter lived with May. I honestly think it would be in his best interest to place him back in her care."

Oh my god. He knows May is dead. He knows that I can't be 'placed back in her care' and It was the same when I did live with her, nothing changed.

We were all stunned into silence, including some of the surrounding parents and teachers who were stunned. Well, we were silent until Dad blew up at him.

"How dare you," he began, "I take as good care of my son as any other parent here does, I give him as much as I can and do everything I can to be a good parent to him. If he's sleeping in your classes or being distracted then maybe you should make your lessons more interesting and not be blind sighted by your homophobic, bigoted and downright dickish beliefs. Your head may be crammed so far up your ass you can smell your lungs but maybe once join us in the real world and see that just because people are different doesn't mean they're not as capable. I will be putting in a formal complaint and if I were you, I'd start looking for new places of employment seeing as I am one of the biggest donators to this school. Come on Pete, we're going home."

Dad then grabbed Pops' hand and my arm before storming out of the building towards the car. You could see the steam coming out of his ears as Pops tried in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

I think I can safely say that this night was a disaster.

[pan-fangirl-345]

Not All Are Bad

Summary: Dabi, formerly known as Touya Todoroki, was arrested. While being interrogated, he spills everything that his father did to him and his siblings until the day he disappeared from their lives. Now, not only are you and Shouto in danger of losing your pups, your friends are too. It's up to you and Shouto to prove that not all Pro Heroes are abusive parents and spouses.

TW: Enji Todoroki's A+ parenting (heavy 600 ton sarcasm), abuse, swearing, referenced child abuse, abusive relationships (not anyone from Class 1-A), nosy reporters, A/B/O dynamics (I don't think that's a warning, but I'm adding it anyway.), mentions of sex but not actual smut because this is a SFW blog, mentions of pregnancy, discussions of pregnancy. If I forgot anything, or anyone wants me to add something, please let me know! Slide into my DM's or leave a comment. I would hate to make anyone uncomfortable and I will change it as soon as I see the notification!

A/N: This just popped into my head today, so I figured I would write it out! Also, a little run down of how my A/B/O scenarios work is under the cut with the rest of the story in case these kinds of things make anyone uncomfortable!

Quick run-down (if you don't care skip past all of the italics and find the bold words and the space where the story starts):

Alphas: An alpha is someone who's alignment makes them a lot more domineering in certain situations. They tend to be natural leaders and don't appreciate being questioned by someone they perceive as lower ranking than them. They release strong pheromones that allow them a certain level of control over the other alignments, usually omegas, but there are omegan protection laws that keep alphas from using this to their advantage in unsavory ways.

They get ruts twice a year, which means that they just get really possessive of their mates and anyone they consider family. This is expressed in different ways, from your typical A/B/O scenario when they get really h*rny, to simply scenting their mates and family more than usual. They tend to take their ruts off from work, because the chemical imbalance in their brains can sometimes make them go feral.

*When an alpha goes feral they will attack anyone they perceive as a threat to them or their families. They can sometimes go after their mates or even their pups if they think their pups are hurting their mate. It rarely happens among families, but there are extenuating circumstances. Common signs include an excessive amount of growling, snarling, howling, snapping etc. Sometimes, depending on how strong an alpha's alignment, their eyes will flash a deep crimson. (Think Kurapika from Hunter X Hunter)

*When an alpha offers to share their rut with an omega or beta, it is either a related family members (or found family, someone they feel no sexual attraction to), or someone they have been courting with. It's a big deal when an alpha requests that someone they're courting spend their rut with them. It shows that the alpha is ready to commit to a more serious kind of relationship.

*These are the alignments most likely to impregnate an omega or a beta. Rarely are alpha x alpha relationships able to conceive and bring a pup to full term. (For the sake of ease, it's the usual nine to ten months.)

Betas: These tend to be your more neutral alignments. They can smell pheromones, but they tend to have less of a reaction to the other alignments. They tend to keep the peace among packs, simply because they are less likely to become swayed by pheromones. They can snarl and growl like alphas, but they also purr like omegas, they are kind of in the middle of the spectrum.

*They don't have ruts or heats, but they aren't sterile either. They can impregnate an omega or even another beta with little issue, though they have a harder time impregnating alphas. They also have a hard time bringing a pup to term. It's uncommon, but it does happen.

Omegas: Now, most A/B/O scenarios I have read make omegas seem weak and taken advantage of. Not mine. An omega can just as easily sway an alpha with their pheromones as an alpha could with an omega. There are certain things that are just courtesy when in public, and there are laws about using one's pheromones to one's advantage. Omegas also tend to have more of the maternal instincts, but that's not the entirety of their character.

*They are the most likely alignment to get pregnant, and they are the least likely to impregnate another alignment.

When omegas get their heats, it shows mostly the same way as when an alpha goes into a rut, but sometimes they also become a lot more affectionate with younger members of their family since their maternal instincts are on a high, and they tend to become more clingy to people they see as protectors, for lack of a better word, usually their alpha friends or parents, depending on the age. Alphas tend to get possessive, while omegas become more clingy and touch-starved.

Please note: Sex and gender have nothing to do with one's alignment. One's alignment is simply something that happens by chance and rarely makes one less worthy of something than another.

Children are called 'pups' but they are still referred to as kids and children etc.

Children start presenting from as early as nine to as late as eighteen, and it's different for every child. The alignments all have different symptoms.

Alphas become easily irritated, possessive, sometimes they become destructive or even go feral when they present. They also tend to run a fever, and their eyes sometimes turn crimson, even if they don't go completely feral. Female alphas don't get their periods. They just get the rut.

Betas just tend to have their scents change. Pups smell a certain way, but when one presents, the scent changes. They also tend to be more in tuned with their packs' feelings.

Omegas become touch-starved, clingy, and sometimes more emotion. They tend to get cramps and muscle aches. Think about a girl on her period, minus the blood. Female omegas don't get periods or bleed during their heats, and neither do male omegas.

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

"Touya, Reizo, come on guys, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up!" you called, laughing as your pups practically climbed over each other to get into the hallway from their room, Reizo with his sweater on backwards and Touya almost falling on his face trying to get his pants up over his knees and his very colorful Pro Hero Shouto boxers.

"Moooommmaaa!" Reizo whined, blue eyes shining brightly as he fixed his sweater. "Touya pushed me!"

"Reizo bit me!" Touya argued, face flushing redder than his hair.

"Come on boys, come here," you cooed, crouching down and gesturing them over. "Do you love me?"

"Of course!" they cried.

"Do you love Daddy?"

"Yes!"

"So you guys must love each other right?"

They glanced at each other, frowning, but flushed, telling you everything you needed to know.

"We're family," you told them, keeping your arm firmly around each of their waists, despite Touya being almost as tall as you. "And that means that no matter how much you fight, or how much you irritate the snot out of each other, at the end of the day, you love each other. Right?"

"Yeah," they muttered, albeit a little reluctantly.

"Okay then," you said, ruffling their hair softly. "And remember, no matter what happens, your father and I will do whatever we have to to protect you and your cousins."

They nodded.

"Alright, now Daddy has the car running downstairs, so we need to get going!" you said, ushering your boys out the door, making sure to lock the door behind you.

"No one forgot anything?" Shouto asked, climbing out of the car to make sure that the boys were strapped into the car properly. "Everyone has jackets?"

"Yup!"

"You have your keys, phone, wallet?" Shouto asked you, opening the door for you.

"Of course," you replied, buckling up, letting Shouto know that he could shut the door.

"Alright, well, we have to get going anyway," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved to close your door.

"Momma, Dad, why do we have to do an interview?" Touya asked, frowning.

He was your oldest boy, thirteen and a spitting image of his uncle, who he was named after, save for a white streak in his hair that covered his left eye, that he inherited from Shouto.

His quirk was a fire type quirk, and it relied on his emotions. His flames changed color based on how he felt, and when his emotions got out of control, so did his flames. Unlike what Enji had done with Touya, you and Shouto had taught your son to understand and channel his feelings so that he didn't harm himself or anyone else by accident. He was extremely in tune with his feelings, and his communication skills were through the roof, despite his age.

He was also intelligent, already having skipped two grades, and he was much more mature than most kids his age.

You supposed that with both of his parents being Pro Heroes, along with most of your found family, that he had heard and had to deal with things that other kids hadn't been exposed to. Not to mention that he had started taking care of Reizo more and more while you and Shouto were gone, despite both of you trying to make sure that one of you was always home with them.

Reizo was named after his grandmother, and he was ten, with white curls with (Y/H/C) undertones, and heterochromic eyes. One was gray, the other was the same shade of (Y/E/C) as your eyes. No one knew where the curls came from, but you were assuming it was from your side of the family, since most of the photos you had seen of Shouto's side of the family made it clear that it wasn't from him. Reizo's quirk was also some sort of mutation quirk. He was able to manipulate light at will, it didn't matter what kind.

One night, after you had woken up from a nightmare, you had checked in to make sure that both of your pups were safe and found Reizo sitting up in bed with a small ball of light in his hands. He had turned four a few months before, and while the doctors had assured you that he had a quirk, he had yet to manifest it physically.

Shouto had assured you, and vice versa, that it didn't matter if your pups were quirkless, you would love them regardless.

Reizo, even at four, had known that you were upset, so he had put on a little light show for you, and had managed to keep permanent star charts all around his room as he got older. He had memorized so many constellations and their stories that it made your head spin.

You and Shouto couldn't have been prouder of your boys, but that didn't mean that you subjected them to the media the way some heroes did with their kids.

In fact, you had tried to keep your kids as far away from reporters as you could, but you had also coached them on how to deal with them as they got older.

Touya, a recently presented alpha, had become much more protective of you and Reizo when reporters tried to stop you in the streets for questions.

Touya had never been violent, and you had been so proud of him when he had hung a reporter with his own tongue after they had gotten under Touya's skin with personal questions they had no right asking a thirteen-year-old.

"Because some things have been happening with your uncle Touya recently, and people are nervous. We're hoping that this makes them feel safer," you explained, turning in your seat to look at your boys.

Shouto's grip on the wheel tightened enough that it made a small noise, and you reached over, touching his thigh lightly.

"Hey," you whispered, turning back around, "it'll all be okay, we haven't done anything wrong. They have no reason to take the boys from us."

"I know, but he screwed everything up, not just for us, but for our friends too."

"Wait, what?" you asked.

"Bakugou called me to tell me that every hero with pups is going to be getting investigated, just to be sure. He and Kirishima might lose Kazuki and Eichiro," Shouto murmured.

"Fuck," you muttered, quietly enough that you knew your sons wouldn't hear you.

"Bakugou isn't exactly thrilled, but he's too afraid to do anything about it like he normally would."

"I can imagine," you replied. "But it's fine. No one from our class is going to lose their kids. We all love our pups, and we love everyone else's."

Shouto nodded, and you could tell that he was really trying to believe you.

"Hey," you murmured. "We're gonna be okay. Me and the boys and you. We're all gonna be okay."

He nodded again, and his grip on the wheel relaxed a little bit.

Interviews like this always made Shouto edgy, but he was extra concerned about this one and what was at stake.

He hated putting the boys in the spotlight, he hated even taking them to a news station, but he knew that you all had to do this if you wanted to stay together.

"I love you," he murmured, taking your left hand, kissing your hand lightly.

"I love you too Sho," you told him, smiling at him softly.

"Ready to walk through hell?" he asked as he pulled up to the building.

"With you by my side?" you inquired. "Always."

Shouto, as always, climbed out first, drawing a cheering crowd, and opened your door for you.

Then you each grabbed a boy.

Touya moved to stand dutifully by his father, and they both moved to your side.

You had your hand wrapped tightly in Reizo's, who was on your left. Touya, on Reizo's left, had an arm around his brother's shoulders protectively, and Shouto stood at the other end of your little line, glancing at you and his boys every few seconds.

Cameras flashed, and there were fans there to show their support to you and Shouto. Some of them held signs, other had merch.

Touya copied his father, his eyes steadfastly forward unless he was checking on you or Reizo, and his head held high with a confidence you knew wasn't entirely faked.

Reizo, on the other hand, was glancing nervously back and forth as you made you way inside.

"Momma, I don't like it out here," he said.

"I know baby," you murmured, barely pausing as you scooped him up into your arms, hiding his face in your shoulder.

Reizo was small, even for ten years old, and you could easily carry him in one arm while the other rested on Touya's shoulder, a comforting gesture.

Reporters shouted questions, fans screamed for some attention, and some people just watched, stone faced and blank.

Touya opened the door for you, and you ruffled his hair affectionately while Shouto kept a protective hand on the small of your back.

Shouto, who had been the first of you to meet the hosts, lead your family through the building, waving away assistance with enough politeness that no one got offended, but got the point across that he didn't need their help.

"Momma," Reizo murmured sleepily.

"Yeah baby?"

"Are Touya and I going to be taken from you and Daddy?"

"Not if we have anything to say about it baby," you whispered, trying to control the pheromones that were leaking around your scent reduction patches.

You had been straight with Touya about what was going on, he didn't appreciate being treated like a child, but you had sugar-coated the explanation you had given Reizo. He still understood, but it was terms he could understand.

"I love you Momma," Reizo said, clinging to the back of your shirt.

"I love you too baby," you told him, kissing his forehead lightly.

You and Shouto had declined the list of questions the station had sent you, and your PR managers had already 'leaked' it to the media that you and your family were winging this.

You had told the boys to answer the questions honestly, unless they didn't want to answer a question that made them uncomfortable.

You and Shouto had had a long conversation with the boys about this kind of thing, about personal information protection when being questioned, tone of voice, all of it, but at the end of the day, you knew that someone would find a way to twist everything.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur before you entered onto the stage, Reizo still in your arms.

Shouto and Touya were on either side of you, and you suddenly felt as if you had two bodyguards.

"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Todoroki. Mr. Todoroki, Mini Todorokis," Nariko, one of the hosts, said.

Shouto nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders absentmindedly.

"Nice to see you again too, Ms. Tanaka. I apologize for my husband, his second cup of coffee hasn't really settled in yet," you snarked, nudging your husband playfully.

"Dad doesn't function properly until nine in the morning," Touya added, flashing one of those dazzling smirks that would have people bowing to his every wish in a few years.

"My own son," Shouto muttered, making you laugh.

"It seems like your youngest takes after his father," Tatsuya, the other host, offered.

"Reizo does like his sleep," you agreed, rubbing your son's back soothingly.

"He's been spending too much time with his Uncle Katsuki," Shouto muttered, and you chuckled.

"Hey, when we were in school, you and Katsuki were the only ones that went to be bed before ten," you reminded him, wrinkling your nose in a teasing way.

Shouto opened and closed his mouth a few times before he pouted, tugging, very lightly, on a stray piece of hair that fell into your face.

"So, Touya- is it alright if we call you that?- what's it like? Having both parents be Pros?" Nariko asked.

"I don't mind if you call me Touya," your son said, looking surprisingly relaxed. "You guys don't ask the weird questions that some other reporters do. But, to answer your question, it's been . . . interesting, for sure."

"How so?"

"Well, for once thing, it's always stressful seeing them fighting on TV, no matter if it's a small time attention seeker or a high profile criminal. Dad has been my role model since I was little, even more so since I presented as an alpha. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Momma's boy," Touya said, sending you a fond look. "So I want to make sure Momma's safe."

People in the audience cooed, and you let out a small purr, ruffling your son's hair.

"What do you have to say to that Mom?" Tatsuya inquired.

"Both Shouto and I already know that Touya is a Momma's boy," you informed them. "Both boys are, though recently Reizo has been spending more time with his father."

Reizo shifted in your lap, slowly peeling his eyes open, glancing around.

He rubbed his eyes as they asked Touya a few more questions, before he crawled from your lap into Shouto's.

Shouto waited for him to get settled before moving to make sure Reizo was secure in his position.

"So, Mrs. Todoroki-"

"Please, call me (Y/F/N)," you interrupted. "We've been doing this since I was in high school."

"Fair enough," Nariko said, smiling at you. "(Y/F/N), what's it like for you? Being a mother and Pro?"

"The separation anxiety in the beginning almost made me quit," you joked, waiting for the laughter to die down before continuing. "But seriously, being a mother is stressful enough, but I was rising through the ranks, so was Shouto. We both knew that our jobs were dangerous, and we made sure that we talked it through thoroughly before we even got together. When I found out I was pregnant, we both took a few days off to talk about things. We both agreed that I was going to take myself out of the field, stick to desk work, that kind of thing, and then we argued on baby names."

"Speaking of baby names," Tatsuya said, making sure you were done before continuing, "you named your son Touya. Care to explain the name choice, given everything that's happened?"

You and Shouto glanced at each other, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was leaving this one to you. He wouldn't be able to get through it if he answered.

"Until recently, we didn't know that Dabi of the League of Villains was Touya Todoroki. Shouto and the rest of his family thought that he was dead. I don't know the full story, since Enji didn't like me to begin with, and Shouto doesn't talk about him much. Shouto was separated from his siblings because of his father."

You tried to reign in all the angry pheromones leaking out, but it was hard. You had never really liked Enji Todoroki, in the uniform or out of it, and hearing about the abuse over the years from Shouto and his siblings had lowered your opinion even more.

"Anyway, when we started talking about names, Shouto brought Touya up. He said, 'I want there to be one Touya Todoroki that gets to see all the good the world has to offer'. Once he told me that, I couldn't say no, besides, I wanted there to be one Touya Todoroki that saw what love was supposed to be."

You took Shouto's hand, interlacing your fingers, and your son took your other hand.

"You got what you wanted," your son told you, voice cracking with emotions.

"So, Touya, do you think that your parents are a good example of love?" Nariko asked.

"Without a doubt," Touya replied, almost instantaneously.

"You answered that very quickly," Nariko told him, eyes wide.

"For those who don't know, my quirk reacts with my emotions," Touya said, setting his hand on fire, the flames a bright gold. "The flames change color based on my emotions. From the first day that my quirk appeared, neither of my parents have ever lost their patience with me. They have both taken the time to communicate with me. They taught me that showing emotions isn't a bad thing, it's something that makes us human.

"My parents have never raised their voices at us, me or Reizo. Even when we probably deserved it, they've never yelled at us out of anger or frustration. Never. They've never laid a hand on us either. I've never seen Dad's eyes change color even a little bit when talking with me, my brother, or my mother. He's gotten mad at a few people who can't take a hint, but he's never been violent around the house. He's never yelled at Momma, and Momma's never yelled at him either. Not in the time I can remember. Dad taught me how to be a good alpha. I said earlier he was a like a role model to me.

"I watched the way he treated Momma and followed his example. Now I know how to treat my future mate, and how to make things work. My parents are a good example of a healthy relationship, love, acceptance, parenthood, and a bunch of other things. They taught me and Reizo that communication is the key to everything. If only it was the key to cooking, because I think that's the only thing neither of them can do."

The audience had been cooing at your sons little speech, then laughed at his unexpected joke.

Tears stung your eyes and Touya seemed to panic a little bit.

"Sorry Momma, I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"I know honey," you said, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm just happy."

He sank into your hug, arms tight around your waist.

Shouto rubbed a hand down your back soothingly, and you pulled away, wiping your eyes.

"So, Mr. Todoroki, you've been very quiet," Tatsuya said. "Why are you letting your wife and son answer everything."

"If there's one thing I've learned in the fifteen years that we've been together," Shouto said, "it's that my wife has a way with words that I lack. Luckily, both our sons have inherited that from her. Besides, I like hearing her and my children talk. I like hearing their voice much more than I like hearing mine."

"And you said you didn't have a way with words," you teased, and Shouto chuckled.

Reizo rubbed at his eyes, glanced around, and crawled over your lap to get to Touya, who let his little brother tuck himself into his side, yawning.

"Finally awake baby?" you asked, turning your attention to your youngest son.

"Yeah," he murmured, stretching before he settled down again. "'M not used to being up this early on a weekend."

"We know," Touya teased, patting his brother on the head.

"Rude Touya!" Reizo whined.

"Boys," you chirped, "save the bickering for when we get home okay? Let these people do their jobs."

"Sorry Momma," they both muttered.

You smiled at them, and Shouto shook his head with a small smile.

"Are they always like this?" Nariko asked, trying to hide a giggle behind her hand.

"Pretty much," you admitted, smiling brightly. "But they are our sons, it's to be expected that they get a little snarky."

"We certainly were," Shouto muttered.

"To say the least," you agreed. "God, high school was rough. We were such problem children, I don't know how Aizawa dealt with us, or any of our other teachers for that matter."

"Speaking of your U.A. days, Touya, you're in class 1-A currently, aren't you?"

"Yes, I recently got my acceptance letter," he confirmed. "I can't wait! I already met some of my other classmates already, since they're cousins of sorts, but it's gonna be great to see where Momma and Dad went when they were my age."

"And you were accepted through recommendations, but you took the public entrance exams didn't you?"

"Yeah," Touya said, nodding. "I wanted to show everyone that just because I was accepted through recommendations didn't mean that I didn't have the power to back it up, or that I thought I was better than anyone else. I wanted to prove that it was through my power that I got in."

Shouto's eyes shined at the words his son used, and you took his hand, remembering the words that Izuku had told him at your first Sports Festival together.

"That's my boy," Shouto murmured, leaning across your lap to ruffle his son's hair.

Touya grinned, fixing his hair.

"Reizo, do you want to be a hero?" Tatsuya asked him.

"No, I want to be a natural disaster first responder."

"Why don't you want to be hero?" Nariko inquired.

"Because I don't want to steal my brother's spotlight," Reizo teased, cutting a playful glare at his brother. "Besides, they're heroes too, they just aren't Pros. Most civil servants are heroes, they just don't have the same title. Momma and Daddy taught me that!"

Reizo beamed at you, and you couldn't help but smile back at him, wrinkling your nose at him, which he did back at you.

"(Y/F/N), Mr. Todoroki, do either of you have anything to say to the people who are questioning whether Pro Heroes can be effective parents?"

"I can't speak for all Pro Heroes," you said, your voice going colder. "But I can confidently, without hesitation, tell you that the entirety of my graduating class- those that have kids- are better parents than most of our grandparents were. None of them would ever hit their child. And yes, we're all training our kids to use their quirks, but it's to teach them control, and we aren't training them for battle. Our children are not soldiers. And I think some people need to be reminded that while heroes are capable of handling situations that others are not because of our training, we're still human.

"Every time we leave our kids, every time we go out, we know that we might not make it back home. I worry about my kids whenever I leave for patrols. Every time I come across a strong opponent, I worry about whether my kids are safe, whether Shouto is safe, whether I'm going to make it back home. And to those that are specifically questioning Shouto's ability to be a parent, I'm disappointed in you. For those that are more than willing to let him walk in harm's way to risk his life for them, but doubt his parenting skills, well, ask any alpha from our class and they will tell you that I was not an easy omega to get to know.

"As an omega that was almost deemed unbreedable, unmateable, for me to let Shouto anywhere near me should be proof enough, not to mention the fact that we have two amazing pups. Not every hero is Enji Todoroki. Not every hero is thinking only of themselves or their image. The reason we're heroes is to help the world. We're not looking for fame and glory. We're looking to keep the world safer for our mates and our pups. We're heroes, but we're human, we're parents. I'm disappointed in every person that ever praised Enji Todoroki for his parenting skills, I'm disappointed in everyone that was fooled by his 'hero' persona. He may have had a license, but when it came down to it, he was no hero, not in any of the ways that mattered."

You leaned back against the couch, tearing your eyes away from the camera, leaning against Shouto's side.

"I have to agree with my wife on this," Shouto said. "My father set the bar pretty low when it came to what being a functional parents as a hero looks like, but our class is setting the bar high. None of our friends have pups that are terrified of when they walk through the door after patrols. None of our nieces and nephews have ever hated their parents with serious intent. Every member of our class, which we all know is still referred to as 1-A, adores their children. Even Katsuki does, and when we were in high school all he cared about was being number one. He took time off from work to raise his pups, and if that doesn't speak volumes, I don't know what does. When we get home, Touya and Reizo always jump to their feet and hug us.

"Katsuki's kids are the same way with him and Eijirou. The number of times (Y/F/N) and I have been knocked over when we get home from patrols is insane, honestly. Denki and Hitoshi's kids are just like Denki, always smiling. We've made mistakes of course- what parent doesn't?- but that doesn't make us bad parents. My father was a bad parent, most of the time he was a bad person, and I made it my mission to not be like him in anyway. I think I did pretty well."

You took Shouto's hand, squeezing it.

"Our class is one big family," you murmured, "and every time the kids are with us or any of our former classmates, they always smile. Like Shouto said, we've made mistakes, and we'll probably make more. We're human, it's what we do, but we're trying our best to be good parents. Our boys know that we just want what's best for them, that we support them no matter what. We taught our kids that it's alright to be afraid of things, but we also taught them that we shouldn't be something they feared. Class 1-A wanted to be the kind of parents where instead of them thinking 'Oh shit, I can't tell Mom or Dad' we wanted them to think 'I'm in trouble, I need to call Mom and Dad'."

"It sounds like you did a very good job," Tatsuya said.

"He's right!" Touya and Reizo chirped.

"You all agreed to wing this interview. We personally watched your PR agents tear up the copy of questions we were going to ask you, though (Y/F/N)'s went further and dissolved hers in water, so you had nothing to prepare yourselves with. Why would you do that?" Nariko asked.

"Momma and Dad are great parents," Touya began. "We knew that any questions you asked us would have only good answers. They get frustrated with us, they get mad, but they handle it well, they never take it out on us. Twist our words however you want, but at the end of the day, that's my final answer. I wouldn't want anyone else to raise me."

"Same," Reizo said. "And anyone that thinks Momma and Daddy are bad at what they do needs to get their eyes checked."

"Reizo," you chided.

"Sorry Momma, but it's true," Touya agreed.

"My boys," you murmured, pulling them both closer, resisting the urge to cry.

"There you have it folks," Nariko said. "I don't think there are any other questions we need to ask."

"None," Tatsuya agreed.

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

A few days later, the interview was on TV, and you couldn't resist the urge to watch it.

You were home by yourself for now. Shouto was out on patrol, Touya was at the dorms getting settled in, and Reizo was at a friend's house for the night.

It was clear how much your boys adored you, and it was clear that neither boy was frightened at all of you or Shouto.

Katsuki had called, practically in tears, though whether that was from the sappiness of you and your family or the kind things you had said, you weren't sure.

Most heroes had been cleared of any suspicion, they had started in the higher ranks and worked their way down, so you and the rest of your class had been cleared already.

After you had all learned that you were cleared, kids had been dropped at grandparents' and other trusted family and friends so the adults could celebrate.

It had been nice to see everyone, and there had been a lot of tears (Izuku and Katsuki were the worst, though you had been close to them), but there had also been a lot more laughter and drunken shenanigans that you would never tell your kids about.

Your ranking, along with Shouto's had shot through the roof after that interview, and you and your husband had both gotten tons of fanmail apologizing for ever doubting, and other that said they had never doubted at all and that they were glad that you were cleared.

Shouto had been so relieved when the investigations had been dropped, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I told you," you had told him one night, and he stumbled across the interview on twitter, along with someone's breakdown of it.

You were lying in bed together, his arm wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest.

"I know," he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

"You will never be like your father, and you will always be my hero, same with the boys."

"Speaking of the boys," Shouto began, cheeks tinted a little pink.

"Oh no," you teased, pushing yourself up to see his face.

"I . . . I want to have another pup," he admitted. "I want to try for a girl this time."

"Upset that both of our boys are almost as devoted to me as you are?" you asked playfully, moving to sit in Shouto's lap as you both readjusted.

"No, I love that our boys love you as much as they do, but they are Momma's boys," he said. "I want a Daddy's girl."

You couldn't help but chuckle, leaning down to kiss him.

"Let's ask the boys in the morning," you suggested. "Then we can try for a girl."

Shouto beamed at you, and you shook your head at him, kissing him again.

"Dork," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I would've asked sooner, but with the investigations going on, I didn't think it was the right time."

"You're right, it wouldn't have been, but we would've worked it out. We always do."

Shouto nodded, burying his face in your neck.

"I love you Shouto," you told him.

"I love you too (Y/F/N)."

[rivalsforlife]

Do you have anything you wished was different from Ace Attorney canon?

Hello I'm finally slowly starting to get around to answering some of these! Sorry for the wait.

Uh this ask got super long so a basic summary of it: narumitsu being canon in a well-written way would be nice even though I don't think it would ever happen, I stand by not bringing back Phoenix as a main protagonist in DD, and I'd also want to rewrite all of SOJ so that Apollo goes to Khura'in in place of Phoenix, to have more interesting character stuff going on.

So the longer answer is this:

Aside from some of the actually problematic stuff that I don't feel qualified to talk about, story-wise, I answered a sort of similar question about a year ago here. I have changed my opinions a little bit since then, particularly with regards to the canonicity of narumitsu... because while I do love narumitsu I feel like I don't trust Ace Attorney to actually do it properly. After all if this past November has taught us anything "making a ship canon" could actually be quite undesirable and I have no desire to see Phoenix and/or Edgeworth sent to superhell. (I literally know nothing else about supernatural sorry about that.)

If capcom were somehow able to make narumitsu canon but in an unobtrusive way and as a natural progression of the storyline, like oh hey, the court record profile for Miles Edgeworth's Obligatory Last-Case Appearance has Phoenix mention they're dating, and maybe there's a few lines suggesting they live with each other, but it's not like... taking the entire story to force them together and otherwise does not change the way they interact with each other and butcher one or both of their characterizations in the process? I'd definitely be happy about that. Not gonna lie even if they made narumitsu canon in the most terrible way possible I'd have a "holy shit I can't believe they did that it's the best day of my life" kind of moment before I could think about it critically. But I honestly see no chance of them ever actually making narumitsu canon, so that's quite unrealistic to hope for anyways.

Aside from that in that other ask I talked about basically the premise of an Apollo trilogy and not bringing back Phoenix as the main protagonist in DD, and I still stand by that, buuut in my other ask I did touch on making SOJ a different game where Apollo goes to Khura'in instead of Phoenix - and you know what I'm going to take some time to actually talk about my dream version of SOJ because there were a lot of little things about the one we got that I didn't like. And it's going to be very long. So it's under a cut.

SO yeah I talked about it a bit in the other ask. I think that Phoenix going to Khura'in is a rather weak idea both externally and in-universe. In one of the interviews, too lazy to find which one, Phoenix basically goes to Khura'in because the writers couldn't figure out how to challenge him anymore. ... And then they don't actually challenge him at all. Because oh well now we're going to this new country where they KILL DEFENSE ATTORNEYS WHO LOSE and then it's supposed to be *shocking* that Phoenix would risk his life for a kid or his best friend. you know the guy who ran across a burning bridge to save his best friend. you know the guy who got punched in the face, nearly killed by the mafia, and tazed trying to save his clients. This doesn't tell me anything new about Phoenix's character. His whole travel in Khura'in doesn't tell me anything new about Phoenix's character. Basically the only reason he's there is to see Maya - Maya who theoretically would be returning home in about two weeks. Maya who was still in her training for two more weeks when Phoenix visited so he wouldn't be able to see her anyways. ... And in the meantime Trucy had the biggest show of her life that was going to be on TV and Phoenix wasn't there for it. And of course Phoenix didn't return home after Trucy was accused of murder (yes he couldn't be there for the trial, but he definitely could have for the emotional support afterwards) and instead just sits for two weeks in Khura'in doing literally nothing after Ahlbi's trial.

(And yes I know about the anime prologue that has Phoenix think Maya's in danger... but that's not strictly canon since it's never mentioned in game, isn't technically a part of the game, and even still, why wouldn't he go home after knowing that Maya's safe and that Trucy had been ACCUSED OF MURDER. Honestly that's what makes me angriest about this whole thing is that it makes Phoenix out to be a terrible dad. We really don't need any more takes like that, especially not from canon.)

And what about Apollo, you may ask? Well, given case 5 of SOJ, Apollo actually has a personal link to Khura'in and ends up staying there afterwards... after being there for like a day or two. I should note here that it has been a while since I went through SOJ in its entirety so I am fuzzy on many of the details. But both through what I remember and some conversations with people who actually played the game recently, the motivation for Apollo to actually stay in Khura'in isn't that great. It mainly seemed like guilt about his dead dad who he hadn't been in contact with for years and had completely written off until a few days ago but oh he died and then went to go visit him so... better take up the law office!

If Apollo had gone to Khura'in in place of Phoenix and spent more time there, reconnecting with his childhood home and actually getting passionate seeing how corrupt the legal system is there (even though we have a corrupt legal system at home) and being driven to fix it, that would make for a stronger story, I think. The Khura'in plot is more personally focused around Apollo than it is Phoenix. Phoenix's connection to Khura'in is through Maya, but Maya doesn't really have much of a connection to it aside from "it's where spirit channeling is from and she trains there". But Apollo, I guess, grew up there. So it's so strange to me that they force all of Apollo's connection to Khura'in in the last case while Phoenix is running around doing who-knows-what for the rest of the game. Phoenix spends more time getting to know the state of Khura'in and the Defiant Dragons and case 3's whole thing but he isn't the one who in the end decides to sit down and fix it; that's all on Apollo. It almost feels like they forced one of the two plots in to everything. And it was probably conceived as a Phoenix story that they needed to fit Apollo into last minute because oops he's supposed to be a protagonist too.

Some other strengths to Apollo going to Khura'in include that it would shake up the character dynamics a bit. Instead of Phoenix defending Maya, it's Apollo defending Maya, and that's a particularly interesting thing to look at in the context of Khura'in's "we kill defense attorneys" system. Of course, Phoenix would risk his life to save Maya, 100%, every time. But what about Apollo, who hasn't met Maya, who only knows her as "Mr. Wright's former assistant" - would he risk his life for her? And I feel like Maya would argue more against him defending her because of that. "We're strangers, you don't know me, you don't have to risk your life defending me." (Sidenote that I was always upset that Maya didn't protest much when Phoenix offered to defend her, knowing his life was at risk - sure she knows him better and knows he's always been able to get her out of these situations, but at the same time, the fact that there was no "what about your daughter?" conversation sucks. I really wish SOJ wouldn't have like. completely forgotten about the phoenix-trucy father-daughterisms.)

Let's say Apollo goes to Khura'in. Phoenix stays at home. Phoenix gets a call from Apollo that's basically "uhh hi Mr. Wright you know your friend Maya, she's been arrested for murder, if I defend her and I lose we're both dead," then you can tie in to that moment in 6-2 where Phoenix (who can't make it in time for the trial!) believes in Apollo and his skills as an attorney, not just to save Maya's life, but also his own. It ties in a bit more to the overall challenge of defending someone at the risk of your own life. Again, Phoenix would have very few hesitations, if any, risking his life to defend Maya. Apollo may have more defending a stranger at the risk of his own life.

Then if you can actually have Apollo and Maya talk together that would be neat - Maya can tell him embarrassing stories about Phoenix's rookie days, for instance. Their dynamic would be quite a bit different from Phoenix and Maya's, and that would be an interesting thing to see, unlike what we have in SOJ where all of Maya's substantial interactions are with characters she already knows or brand new characters.

(It would also be pretty neat to know more spirit channeling politics and dive in more to Maya's perspective on Khura'in and also her role as upcoming Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique and where she plans to lead the village in the future and also reconcile with her family's bloody legacy, but I'm not quite sure how to fit that in right now.)

And how about Phoenix, back home in Japanifornia? Evidently he'd end up being in charge of defending Trucy. Now, I did love the siblingsisms in canon 6-2, but I feel like there is still potential for Phoenix defending Trucy. All of Apollo Justice has a bunch of good moments between Apollo and Trucy, and she's co-counsel on all his trials, but we've never had any substantial Phoenix and Trucy investigation or co-counsel moments. I feel like AU 6-2 would be a great opportunity to dive more into Phoenix and Trucy's relationship and how it may have changed after Phoenix got his badge back. Plus, Phoenix being "the only one who knows how she really feels on the inside", he'd have unique insider knowledge into some of the Gramarye stuff that comes up in the case and Trucy's personal connection to the Gramaryes, which Apollo knows a bit of, but Phoenix knows more of. ... Or at least, should know more of, given that he raised Trucy for nine years at this point and they're very close, and Phoenix knows her better than anyone else does, even if capcom has forgotten this.

... Of course having Athena defend the case would also be great because more Athena spotlight is never a bad thing, but it's hard to come up with a reason why Phoenix wouldn't be there to defend her. And doing more switcheroos in terms of role in the plot is a bit beyond the scope of what I have in mind right now. Sorry Athena.

Aside from that, Athena still gets Storyteller, Apollo still heads Turnabout Revolution, and Phoenix still gets the DLC case. Apollo stays in Khura'in in the end with a bit more to his motivations. Rather than it just being about carrying on Dhurke's legacy, it's also something Apollo is passionate about after all he witnessed here. While we're at it I'd still rework a lot of Turnabout Revolution to make it so that Phoenix genuinely believes in Atishon because that makes for sooo much more interesting of a plot and actual character development on Phoenix's part than "Maya was kidnapped again and Phoenix is only wrong when he has no other choice", but that'd require some more detail and this post is long enough already.

And in terms of other details that need to be sorted out, there's the question of why Apollo would need to go to Khura'in in the first place. I'd probably say something to do with Dhurke. Maybe he comes back a bit earlier - actually alive, maybe, though crossing borders would be a bit of a challenge, or he reaches out to Apollo remotely somehow and Apollo goes to yell in his face about abandoning him (or at least that's what he thinks he wants.) Then we could have some more Dhurke and Apollo bonding time, potentially? Idk, if you switch up Phoenix and Apollo you're pretty much writing a whole new game and obviously I have not worked out all the details, but I think if Capcom had tried to go with this route from the outset they'd have a stronger game. At least stronger character motivations.

So... yeah. Those are my opinions. If you read through this whole thing I'm very impressed because it got very long!

[desertno3]

Violet – Chapter Two (3/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place.

Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Two: 1787 words

Prologue // Chapter One

A/N: Welp, sorry I said this would be up soon and then immediately went and took like two weeks to finalise it. Anyway, here’s the Sean and Violet interaction we’ve all been waiting for! Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @ysmmsy​ @prettyinpayne​ @the-a-word-2214​ Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!

“Can you help me colour this in, mum?”

You have to repress a tired sigh at your daughter’s request.

“Sorry, Vi, I can’t right now,” You tell her, scrolling through real estate listings on your phone. You’d been looking ever since the incident because there was no way in hell you were going to go back to your old place after what happened. “Maybe later, yeah?”

You hear her huff and when you look up, she’s already walking out of the room, crayons and colouring book in hand - no doubt on the hunt for someone else to ask.

You shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Violet had made herself right at home in the Wallace household, quickly warming up to everyone even though she’d just met them. It was just the kind of child she was. If she could, she would go right up to total strangers and talk to them but you’d made sure to nip that habit in the bud early, sitting her down and telling her why it was dangerous to do so. She was the most gregarious and self-assured little girl you’d ever known - and you were sure her Wallace genes played a strong part in making that happen.

~

Sean groans in frustration, leaning against the kitchen counter as he does so. Elliot had just called to say that the latest lead Sean had him following went nowhere and now Sean was wracking his brain to figure out who else could have been behind the intrusion of your home.

The intruder in question had been of no help, naturally. Sean had done what he could to pry information out of him but the man said nothing - and Sean wasn’t sure if it was out of loyalty or because he’d lost so much blood he couldn’t think straight. In the end, Sean didn’t even have to finish him off because the gunshot you’d inflicted did the job well enough. He decided he wouldn’t tell you that, though. You were shaken enough as it was.

“Are you okay?”

Sean’s jolted out of his thoughts by the little voice and when he looks up, Violet’s hoisting herself up onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter. She then looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“I am,” Sean replies, still watching her curiously.

Besides the brief introduction where you’d told Violet he was your friend, he hadn’t yet properly interacted with her. For one, he had been too preoccupied with trying to track certain people down but the other reason was that he didn’t know how you would react to it if he did. You’d clearly been avoiding bringing up the topic of Violet’s parentage and he’d let you avoid it - for now. 

“Will you colour in with me?” She asks, taking him out of his reverie yet again. “My mum’s busy.”

Sean blinks at her, processing the request. He wonders if he should say no - after all, he has so much to do - but she looks so hopeful that he doesn’t want to. When he eventually caves and says yes, he’s taken aback by the fondness he feels at the way she beams and hops off the stool, coming over to him to take his hand and lead him to the living room where she’d already had her colouring book all set up.

~

You’re more than surprised when you come downstairs half an hour later and see the two of them sitting at the coffee table, colouring in together.

“What colour do you think should go here?” Sean asks her, pointing to a blank spot on the page.

“Green! No, wait!” Violet’s expression scrunches up as she surveys all the colours in front of them. “Yeah, green.”

You watch as Sean chuckles, complying with her wishes as he reaches for the green crayon. He starts colouring in the area while Violet happily observes, the section she was working on long forgotten as she peers intently at the way Sean was doing it.

You feel a slight pang in your heart as you watch them, knowing you had kept them from having moments like this. It’s a fleeting feeling, however, because Violet looks up and spots you.

“Mummy!”

“Hi, love,” You greet her, walking over to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I see you’ve wrangled Sean into colouring with you.”

“We’re colouring in this page right now,” Violet says excitedly, showing it to you. “But we also did the one with the horses. You know, the one me and you didn’t get to finish?”

She flips through the book and shows you the page in question.

“That’s great, darling,” You tell her, fondly smoothing her hair down. “Now, why don’t you go outside and play for a bit, hm? Let Sean get back to his work.”

She nods, taking the crayon from him and putting them all back in the box.

“Thanks for colouring with me, Sean,” She smiles before turning and scampering off excitedly to the backyard.

“Don’t forget your hat!” You call out to her but she’d already disappeared around the corner, leaving a silence to settle between you and Sean in the living room.

“She’s a chatty one,” He comments, breaking the silence as he gets up off the floor. “Would fit right in with my dad’s side of the family.”

You just hum in acknowledgement, avoiding his knowing gaze. You’d always thought the same thing but you didn’t want to tell him that, not yet wanting to confirm or deny anything to do with Violet being a Wallace even though there really was no point in doing so - you knew Sean knew, even if you hadn’t yet spoken about it.

“Y/n,” He says, waiting until you actually looked at him. “Did you know you were pregnant when you broke up with me?”

There it was.

You’d spent the last few days waiting for him to bring it up - surprised he even let it stay unaddressed for this long - and yet you find yourself still completely unprepared to have this conversation.

You shake your head. “I only found out about a month after.”

Not that it matters. What matters was that you could have told him at any point during your pregnancy or at any point after Violet was born, but you never did. You scan Sean’s face desperately, hating that you can’t read him as well as you used to be able to. 

“I’m sorry, Sean,” You say and you think you’ve never meant an apology more in your life. “I thought it would be safer to keep her away. Even after I found out I… I didn’t think coming back to you pregnant was a good idea.”

“Still, I deserved to know about her, y/n. She deserves to know about me.”

You drop your gaze, ashamed. “I know. God, I know, okay? But I was scared.”

You know that doesn’t excuse anything but you had to be honest. He had to at least know why you did what you did at the time.

“Scared of what? Me?”

“Of the people you were working with!” You clarify. “I was scared that if they knew about her they might-”

“They would never even get close,” He cuts you off, his tone developing a menacing edge to it at the mere thought of anyone laying a hand on Violet. “I wouldn’t have fucking let them.”

There's a heavy silence in the air and you watch him sigh in frustration, trying to work through his temper. Your own heart hammers against your chest at finally being forced to face the consequences of your decisions.

“I would’ve kept you both safe,” He eventually says, his voice slightly calmer. “If you had just let me, I would’ve done it.”

“I know,” You admit quietly, remorsefully. “I know you would have. But at the time... Sean, your way of keeping us safe wasn’t my way of keeping us safe. You know that."

He purses his lips, remembering all the times in the past you two would argue because he would always get himself into more violent situations than you thought was necessary. The way you saw it, he was unnecessarily digging his own grave with every altercation he found himself in whereas he’d grown up being taught that violence was a necessary measure to keep certain people at bay, to remind them who was in charge, and to prevent them from threatening the people he cared about - namely you, at the time.

“I could never get my head around why you would go through all that trouble, Sean. But I get it now.”

His eyes bore into yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in what you just said.

“What changed?”

You open your mouth to reply when you jump at the sound of banging at the window. Both of you look to see Violet on the other side of it holding up a football, clearly wanting you to play outside with her. You give her a nod, holding up a finger to let her know you’ll be out in a minute.

“I had her,” You answer as you both watch Violet grin and run down to the other side of the backyard. “I’d literally do anything to keep her safe, anything just to make sure she’s okay.”

Sean looks out the window for a long time, to the point where you think he’s still stewing in his anger, but then he lets out a little amused-sounding huff.

“What?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Now you know why I used to get into all those fights for you.”

Your expression softens at that but he doesn't see it. He's deliberately not looking at you, immediately feeling like he’s made himself a bit too vulnerable after saying that. He glances at Violet, kicking the ball around all on her lonesome, and it reminds him of the reason you’d returned to his life in the first place. 

“I have to make some calls,” He says, shifting back into business mode. “I have to find another lead.”

“I really am sorry, Sean,” You tell him, ignoring his change of topic. You needed to make sure he knew that.

He looks at you and sighs. “I know. And I get why you did it. As much as I fucking hate it, y/n… I do understand.”

It’s more than you could have ever asked from him. You nod and one last look of acknowledgement passes between you two before he disappears to his office and you head out to be with Violet, feeling lighter than you have felt in a while now that everything was finally out in the open.