#original child character

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

I never blamed you for loving me the way you did.

Lestat De Lioncourt x reader

Summary; Lestat De Lioncourt had a wife once. And a beautiful life. Until he lost everything. Warnings; fail marriage, blood and injuries, vampire sex, character deaths, suicide, self-hatred, penis in vagina sex, creampie, sex as a coping mechanism, child loss, grief and mourning, ANGST, hurt no comfort, BISEXUAL Lestat de Lioncourt

Word count: 11,181

(Pre-canon)

Lestat had spent decades on this planet. He had known thousands of people, been to hundreds of cities, lain with both women and men. He had fallen in love, once upon a time. And he had known loneliness. He knew it even before he was turned into this vile creature. When he had to spend his days in his cold bed as a little human child. As his father and brothers torture toy, his mother’s suffocating burden, when had to spend days in Satan’s dungeon with the dead and the undead, waiting for his final day see his god for the first and last time. The nights he prayed to God to spare his life and how his prayers turned to pleadings for his death. He begged it to be quick and painless. He wanted his mother’s comfort that he never knew. He wanted to go back to church and attend the sunday service with the people of his small town. He wanted to hold cross one more time and feel the love of Christ in his bones.

He thought about God and Jesus and his mother when Magnus nearly ripped his neck open with his sharp fangs one night. He drank so much that Lestat thought he saw a bright light in the corner of his eye. He felt his soul slip away from his body and the lightness wash over him. It was a comfort that he never felt in his entire life before. Not when he used to lay beside that tree on the hill and exchange glances with the pretty looking shepherd boy as the warm breeze danced with his own blonde curls. Not when he fell asleep with that beautiful daughter of the baker by the river, naked, arms wrapped around one another, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beats.

He had tasted blood for the first time when Magnus pressed his bleeding wrist to his lips. Lestat started to drink. He had no idea why he was drinking. It was an instinctual command coming from his body, from his very existence. He felt life come back to him. But not his soul, it was gone. He felt his flesh harden like rocks and the colour drain away from his rosey cheeks of humanity. He felt Magnus’s blood flow trough his veins, fast and burning. He felt the warmth in his chest. His fingertips hurt with the sharp nails that grew in seconds. His eyes were sore and when he opened them again, the bright colours made him dizzy. He could hear everything and everyone. He could feel everything at once. He wanted to die. He wanted to beg Magnus to stop playing with him and let him die peacefully. And he was alone one more time when Magnus died in the flames, in front of his eyes. He smelled his burning rotten flesh. Dying like him disgusted Lestat.

Over time his yearning for God’s love turned into grudge. He wondered why God let him turn into this blood thirsty monster. Yes, that was what he was. A monster trough and trough. And no one would dare to love a monster like him. Even tho the monster would love anyone in the purest way possible if he was given chance.

And he did. Lestat loved Nicolas. As much as he could at least. Nicki was a troubled man since the first moment Lestat laid his eyes on him. He thought that being with him and having countless adventures could change him and plant seeds of happiness into soul. But it didn’t. He hesitated turning him into a vampire when Nicki was begging him to do so. He could sense the consequences of doing it. But spending centuries with the man he loved convinced Lestat. Nicki sinked into his dark thoughts more. His violin played with sadness and sorrow more than ever. Lestat felt his darkness in himself. He could not hear but see Nicki’s feelings in is empty looking eyes. He felt the guilt filling his heart as his first love was turning into someone he didn’t know. Armand’s presence wasn’t helping at all.

Lestat never thought about being loyal to his spouses when the world was full of fruits in different shapes and colours and tastes. There was so much to explore in his infinite life time. Armand was a capturing thing. With his eyes looking into his soul and reading him like an open book. Armand was offering so many things to Lestat that no one ever could. He yearned for the care and affection from Armand. He wanted to drink from him, lay with him and taught by him how to survive, live with the nature of a vampire. But being with Armand in front of the eyes of Nicki pushed the poor boy into madness more and more every passing day. Lestat was hungry but not for the destruction of the ones he loved.

He left Paris with his mother. He had left Nicki and Armand and the theatre. Only to receive the news of Nicki’s death. He fell onto his knees when they sent his violin to him. He touched the places where Nicki’s fingertips traced over. And he played it for the last time to feel his lover again. It didn’t matter if he was feeling Nicki’s love, rage or sadness. He only wanted a piece of him. His lips trembled when he played his favourite melody. The melody Nicki would play for Lestat after the moments they spent in each others arms, tasted one another and explore the corners of pleasure. He remembered that fearless little boy that he met with back in the day, when they were both humans. He remembered the shy glances of Nicki when he was looking at Lestat’s eyes, lips and every detail on his face. He remembered the moments they danced together and his mother would sing for them. He remembered their last happy moments. Tears of blood flowed down his cheeks and stained his white shirt.

He was alone again when his mother left him. He felt unlovable. Even his own mother couldn’t stand his presence. How could anyone in this world would love a man like him? By that time he had forgotten how it felt like being close to god and feel his love. He knew that God left him when he was turned into a seed of devil. He wanted to scream and shout and tell God that he never had a chance to choose. If he could he would choose God over everyone and everything without a second thought. Therefore Lestat knew believing in something higher and more powerful than you was a great comfort and happiness a man could ever have.

He traveled for years after his mother left him. He wondered around the countries, saw humans kill one another, cheat on one another, trick one another and destroy one another. He saw that it was not only him that was hungry for something he couldn’t name. Then his bright greyish blue eyes found the figure of a little human being in the crowd, dancing with a beautiful smile on her face. His eyes watched you for the whole dance. He heard your fast breaths, how they go trough your delicate nose and reach to your lungs that were still fresh and youthful compared to his rotten body. He saw the drops of sweat sliding trough your temple, your hair damp and the braid crown that was about to fall off. He heard your laugh, full of life and joy. He saw your skirts fly off as you tap your feet on the floor with your human strength. Your dance made him smile. His smile widened as you kept dancing and laughing. He felt like he never saw something or someone more alive. He felt a warmth in his chest. So different from the one felt when he first drank Magnus’s blood. It was type of warmth he felt when he was still human, when he had fears of a human and desires of a human.

He took you into his arms as you were still dancing. The dance floor was crowded as you felt his hands on you. You turned around and saw the most beautiful pair of eyes that you ever saw in your entire life. It felt natural to be in his arms, to be close to him and smiling at him. Lestat looked into your eyes as both of you danced trough the song. You didn’t want this song to ever finish. His body was pressed against yours and it felt like you were the only ones in the dance floor, in the world. He felt your gentle hands on his arms, going to his shoulders. It felt tingly and he realised how much he missed this human feeling. He laughed when you accidentally stepped on his feet and his laugh sounded more beautiful than thousand melodies that you ever heard. Which musician could ever write a song that sounded like his joy? Who could ever be the inspiration and make any musician to write it?

You watched his blonde long curls shine under the colourful lights. The thought of running your fingers trough his curls sent shivers down your spine. Lestat shook slightly when he heard your thoughts. You didn’t think about laying with him right away or take advantage of things that he might offer you. You only wanted to caress his hair. Something his mother never did. He closed his eyes and leaned down to your neck. The flavour of your blood filled his nostrils in seconds. He felt dizzy and wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt his lips ghost over your skin and you had to hold onto him.

“Wait for me, ma cherie.” He whispered and you opened your eyes. Your arms were on the air, hugging no one. You felt coldness wash over your burning cheeks.

“Wait for me.” You heard his voice again. You turned around but he was no where to be seen. Your hands held your long skirts and put the strands of hair behind your ear. People around you kept dancing as you walked out of the dance floor with shaky legs.

Lestat watched you for the rest of the night from far afar. You didn’t dance again or laugh. You sat down, sipped on your drink, answered question when they were referring to you and looked for him with curious eyes. He felt sense of pride in his heart. Not because a mortal girl was mesmerised by him but because it was you that was mesmerised by him. You were not his prey of the night. He could fill that place with someone anytime, anyone could be his meal tonight. No, you were meant to be alive, and you were meant to be by his side.

For eight long weeks he watched your every step. He watched you wake up every morning, have breakfast with your family, attend your daily lessons, sew with your lady friends, read your books by your window and think about him. He could hear your sweet dreams about him, even when he was in his house. You were waking up everyday, hoping to see him somehow. You thought about telling your mother many times. Maybe she would’ve known about that otherworldly lord that attended the party in the gambling club. He watched you blush like a cherry in summer when one of your mother’s friends pointed out that you were zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts pretty often, just like a young lady in love would do. Your mother laughed it off as you kept your eyes on the floor and your thoughts on Lestat.

He watched you go home that day. Slip away from the heavy layers of your dress, undo your beautifully braided hair and lay on your back on the bed. Your room was lightened by the few candles on your desk and nighstand. He could hear your heart beating fast as you pictured his eyes again and again. Oh how beautiful he was. As if carved by God himself carefully within the image of an angel. You could feel that weird, tingly sensation in your stomach when you remembered his lips on your skin. Lestat smiled softly as you drifted into sleep thinking about him. And he was in your room. He walked to your desk first and looked over the poetry books you were reading, and the some poems you tried to write. A little poet i have hear, Lestat thought.

He walked to your bed. His hands traced over your neck to your chest and lastly to your stomach. His touch was so soft and light, he could feel you hardly. But he could feel your warmth so clearly. He could feel it even with just being in your room. He tried to remember the last time he felt the warmth of humanity in him. Nearly two centuries. He sat on your bed and looked at your sleeping figure. You looked so peaceful. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to sleep for night without all those memories haunting him? He listened to your heart beats for a moment and the way your eyes were moving slightly during your sleep. He leaned over you, to your neck. He inhaled deeply as his lips were close to your skin. For a moment he feared that his cold lips would wake you up but you didn’t open your yes. Your blood made his mouth watery. He was so hungry. For blood yes, but he was hungry for something more. Something that could make him feel alive after two centuries of being dead. Something that would make his heart beat faster with excitement again.

He wondered if God was looking down at two of you in that moment. If he was, would he let Lestat to defile one more of his human children? If yes, why? Wasn’t it both torture for Lestat and them? He had the blood of thousands on his hands. And there was no soap or water in this world that could wash it away from him. He was carrying all his victims within himself. They were in his veins, staining his fangs.

He laid his body on top of yours slowly, gently. His broad shoulders blocked your eyes and his legs trapped you between them. Your eyes opened wide with the pressure on your stomach. First you could only see darkness, then you felt a cold hand against your cheek.

“Don’t be afraid, mon cœur.” He whispered. Your fast breathing calmed in seconds. He looked down at your face and your gaze met with his own. You looked divine under the moonlight, under him. The way your eyes were still half open, in the grasp of sleep. And the way your cheeks were flushed with shyness and excitement. But not fear. His eyes found your lips lastly. Your lips that were slightly open, sucking in little breaths, looking all soft and warm. Lestat felt your hardened tetes peaking trough your nightgown, pressed against his tough chest.

You saw his bright blue eyes go darker with lust and his teeth grow into sharp fangs that only a wild animal would have. You felt his sharp nails digging into your skin and make you bleed. You both hissed as his fingertips got covered with your blood. He snarled just like an animal as the smell of fresh blood surrounded his very being. Your body trembled and you held onto his arms tightly

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered. You did not feel horror, or rage or sorrow. You were only exited as he held you in his arms. Lestat smiled softly at your question. He pressed his nose against your cheek and inhaled your scent one more time. Your humanly, sweet smell made him dizzy. He felt an unfamiliar sensation down below his stomach.

“No, I will give you life. Better than the one you have.” He said and bite down your neck. First thing you felt was a sharp pain that made your neck go numb. You could not move, rather dare to move. It felt like if you moved, the pain would get worse. Lestat let his body go and laid on top of you fully, giving his whole weight. You opened your legs and welcomed his slender figure. And for the first time in decades, Lestat felt like he was home.

The wound that his fangs made on your neck started to burn when he licked and played with it with his tongue. The tears filled your eyes as Lestat laid his head on your neck. He kept drinking from you, slowly, taking little sips with the tip of his tongue, still breathing in your scent. His arms were wrapped around you and you could feel him all over you. He felt himself harden against your hips. He had to do it. He had to put an end to his loneliness.

He slashed his wrist with his nails, deep enough for him to bleed. Then he pressed his wrist against your lips. Your slowly closing eyes opened up at once as the strange taste of blood hit your tongue. Lestat shifted his position to open up the breaches of his trousers. He watched you drink him up hungrily as he lifted your skirt up to your waits. You felt his cold fingertips tracing over your bare stomach and thighs. His blood tasted sweet. Sweeter than the liquors you tasted in the balls, sweeter than the sherbets in the centre of the candies you ate, sweeter than the tropical fruits that your father bought very rarely.

You felt your whole body burn in need, in lust. You felt the buzzing sensation in your brain and your ears ringed. You pushed his hand away and pressed your lips against his own. You had to have him. It was a primal instinct that made you think so. Lestat held your back and positioned himself against your leaking entrance. Your warm walls welcomed him. You were sweet, warm and wet. In that moment it felt like it was all he ever needed. You tasted each other’s blood on your lips as his tongue explored your mouth. The he pushed you back and pressed his wrist back onto your lips. He wanted you to drink, cure your thirst and hunger with him.

He thrusted into you hard and deep as you kept drinking and drinking. He had to tend to you, he had to care for his fledgling. You were his. From head to toe, you belonged to him. Magnus had never claimed him as his own. His mother had no maternal instinct for him. He belonged to no one in this entire world. Nicki was in his own little world despite the love Lestat gave him. And Armand would never belong to anyone. Oh but you, you were perfect for him. Your walls tightened and it drove him over the edge. He ripped his arm away from you and held your face. You whined in need for his blood. His length went deeper and deeper into you as your shaky breaths hit his face.

He heard your heart sync with his own as he looked into your eyes. Your face was covered in blood as you moaned in pleasure. Lestat wanted to get lost in you. He wanted to be buried in you. He spent himself in you with one last thrust and felt your walls tighten more than before as you choked on your breaths and held him tight against you. He looked down at you and saw your thighs and his pubes sticky with blood. I had claimed her in every way possible, he thought.

He let you lay back down as he laid himself on top of you. You tried to catch your breath and he laid his head on your chest, between your breasts. Lestat kissed your skin, his lips left marks of blood on you. Then he felt your hands in his hair. Your fingers played with his lose curls that was ruined when he lost himself in pleasure. He felt your fingertips caressing his forehead and temple, gently, softly. You were still gentle with him even after what he did to you. His shoulders relaxed under your touch and he let out a shaky breath. What was he going to do now? He should’ve ask you before turning you and prisoning you into darkness. How he was different from Magnus when he just grabbed you like a piece of meet and drank your essence of life just to replace it with his rotten, blood of death?

“My family will think I coupled with the devil.” You whispered as you kept caressing his hair. Lestat’s breath hitched in his troath. He looked up to you under his lashes. He looked like a scared little boy in this light. A little boy that feared the monsters under his bed, scared of his father’s rage, scared of life and death. The tears of blood filled his eyes as he looked into your eyes. He saw the bright colour of your irises that matched your new nature. He nodded as he agreed with your statement.

“You have.” He said quietly as he avoided your eyes. He heard your small chuckle, felt his arm move as your chest rised up. You were still so calm. Maybe you were in shock after what he did to you. Poor girl, Lestat thought. I have driven one more innocent into madness.

“How come devil is so pretty then?” You asked as your fingertips trailed around his eyebrows. He stopped frowning with your touch. Then your touch continued to his eyes. Then to his nose. You caressed his straight bone. Finally your fingertips reached to his lips. Your hand brought grace to his well shaped lips. He planted a small kiss to your fingers.

“I never knew devil would look so perfect.” You whispered. As if even you couldn’t believe what you were saying. But Lestat heard you. He heard you so well that he received your compliment as a sharp pain into his heart. Growing up he had always heard that he was a pretty boy. Many of his lovers had said so even after his humanity was ravaged. But he couldn’t see anything but a monster when he looked at himself in the mirror. He had a attraction for violence. He couldn’t feel fulfilled if he didn’t kill. And he couldn’t satisfy himself if he didn’t hurt.

“You don’t know what I am. How can you say I am perfect after what I’ve done to you?” He asked his his tears started to spill from his eyes. You caught them before they could flow down his cheeks. Your small, soft smile remained on your lips. Lestat thought that he never seen someone so beautiful. He was surrounded by your smell, your beauty and compassion. He was covered in your blood and you were carrying his blood. He felt himself warm next to you. Centuries of coldness in his chest was replaced with your smile. He could feel your body calling for him, desperate for his touch and taste. There was a soreness in his troath. He wanted to scream it out.

“You have bewitched me.” You said, almost like a confession. His sharp gaze found your eyes immediately. Lestat’s tears kept spilling from his eyes as he laid his head on your chest again. He stayed in your arms who knows for how long. How could he let you go know? When you were calling him perfect, even after seeing his blood thirsty animalistic side, touching him with love and passion, carrying a piece of him in you, opening your arms for him without a question and accepting him as he is?

The next time Lestat knew loneliness was the hardest time.

You were a great companion, lover and a wife for him after the night he had you in your room, in your bed of youth and innocence. You were a brave little thing that was ready to face an army for him. He felt like the luckiest man alive when your laughs echoed trough the walls of your home. After decades he was finally living, sleeping in a house that he called home. He tried to taught you french but you were impatient and often ran away from his grasp to play his favourite melodies on the piano. He couldn’t get mad at you and watched you for hours as you played, looking at him for the whole time with a big grin on your face. He bought you the finest dresses in your favourite colours, had beautiful jewellery made for you. He loved making you happy more than everything in the whole world.

You were getting into an excited hurry every time you two decide to host a party in your home. People of your city were adoring both of you as a couple. You were so cheerful that there was no room people didn’t smile and the place didn’t lighten up as you entered. Men and women considered themselves lucky if you danced with them. But Lestat knew your first and last dance always belonged to him. Your heart and soul belonged to him. He didn’t know how many nights he pressed his forehead against yours, smiled like a teenage boy in the bliss of love and lifted you into air as your skirts flied behind you and your laughs filled ears of fortunate mortals. His heart was syncing with someone that loved him deeply. And he was so full of love, that he couldn’t remember the times he had lost himself in darkness.

He would have children with you if he could. If he was still a human. He would love to raise a boy that looked like you and a girl that looked like him. He had imagined the picture many nights as he closed his eyes in his coffin, his arms wrapped tight around you. He could see them running around the house, laughing beautifully like you. He could see them growing up and having their own lives as he grew old with you. I was so close to have a life, he thought after every single time he dreamt. The thought brought him sorrow. But he had you. It was more than enough for him.

Lestat met with your family when you two decided to get married. Your parents loved him. They called him a great gentleman with knowledge and culture. A husband fit for my daughter’s hand, your father said. But as the years went by and you still didnt have children or added wrinkle over there and there, your family sank nto silence. The letters became lesser and lesser. By the last letter, it was a dry piece of paper with few words written on it. No feelings, no longing or great love of your mother. You two attended the funeral of your father as he passed away after 15 years of your marriage to Lestat. Your mother’s eyes filled with tears and hatred as you watched your father getting buried. Lestat held you as you fought so hard to keep your tears back from spilling. You could see everyone’s eyes on you, examining you with fear planted in their heart, convinced that you are no longer the girl they knew. You tried to approach your mother and got blocked by cousins and other relatives.

“Tell that devil to leave my poor girl's body and find someone else to be the servant of satan.” You mother’s harsh voice made you step back. And Lestat could hear your heart shatter into pieces. He knew her words were referring to him. How many times I will hear the same thing, phrased differently? He thought. After the funeral you refused to leave your bed chambers for days. You didn’t eat even if Lestat hunted for you. You refused to sleep either. As the sun rose from the east and Lestat closed his coffin, he could hear your muffled cries in your own coffin. You couldn’t get yourself to sleep with him. You couldn’t get yourself to face to world. Your mind kept drifting back to the times you were with your family and how much they loved you. Lestat never wished something as much he wished to hear your thoughts and take your pain away. If he could, he would take all it of to himself. He was used to be in pain since he knew himself. But seeing his sunshine fade away was like tying his hands and feet and abandon him to starve to death.

After days, you left your coffin for the first time. Lestat’s bright eyes scanned your body head to toe. All he could see was a hungry vampire that was broken. Your under eyes were purple and your skin was paler than usual. The veins under your skin was showing trough. You could barely walk and talk as he held you in his arms and carried to the living room. Your hands fell to your thighs and he fell to his knees in front of you. His eyes were filled with concern and fear.

“Ma cherie, you need to eat something.” He said as he tried to make eye contact with you desperately. But your eyes were avoiding him by all cost. Your lips parted and some whispers left your mouth. Lestat leaned closer to hear you.

“It’s you.” He heard you say. He frowned and his mouth opened but nothing came out.

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly after a moment. You looked like a mess in front of him. And he wanted nothing more than pulling you back into his arms and never let you go.

“You never did.” You said as you finally made eye contact with him. “You are the reason of my current state.”

Lestat felt your words form into a dagger and stab him on his heart. His stomach dropped and he fought the urge to get away from you. He wanted to step away and take one more step away and one more… Your eyes were looking at him differently. There was a feeling he never felt from you before. Hate.

“You made me what I am and you ruined me.” Your voice sharp and your eyes full of bitterness. You collected all your strength to get up but it was not enough to keep you standing. Lestat held you gently before you could fall. Then he felt your sharp nails scratch him and rip his hands away from you.

“Don’t ever touch me.” You hissed and crawled away on the big sofa. Lestat’s eyes could not leave the empty space that you used to sit. He could hear your heart beating fast and he could almost taste the poison in your words you spoke out and you were going to speak out.

“You put me in a prison that I will never be able to leave. No matter what I do.” You said. Lestat looked over you and saw the tears of blood flow down your cheeks. Your fragile figure broke his heart repeatedly. He came in front of you on his knees and tried to hold your hand but you pulled away again. He sighed and did his best to hold his tears back.

“It will get better. In time everything will feel less weird and more normal. You will embrace what you are.” Your eyebrows lifted and a cold smirk appeared on your lips.

“And what is that? A murderer? A sinner? A cursed woman?” Your voice raised with each word and Lestat moved away. He turned around to avoid your eyes and words. His left hand found the corner of the window to lean down and his right hand covered his mouth. Muffled cries left his lungs as he shut his eyes tight.

“You will carry this feeling for the rest of your life.” You said and your presence left the house in seconds. Lestat did not move from his spot as he felt you going away from him. Your heart beats faded away in the night until he couldn’t hear you anymore. Me and you both, he wanted to say.

8 years.

He didn’t see you for 8 years after that night. He knew you were out of the city, far away from him. He called for you every night for a year at first. He screamed your name in darkness, hoping desperately that maybe you would hear and answer him. But you didn’t. Once his voice became hoarse, he wrote letters to your family. But got nothing back. Was it still possible for them to take you back after everything? Your mother couldn’t look at you and your siblings had nothing but fear and disgust in their eyes when they glanced at your direction. You were truly all alone in the entire world. You had no one but the person who trapped you into loneliness.

Lestat wandered around the city for days, searching for your scent, your gentle figure. You were no where to be found. He stopped going out after some time and trapped himself into his house. His coffin was full of pictures he could find of you. For nights he stared at your smiling face, frozen in those moments of happiness and joy. He missed your smile. He craved for you in every way possible. The house felt like a grave and his good old friend, the coldness was back. The memories of his youth started to haunt him one by one as he laid in his coffin during daytime. He could not find sleep when your side of the coffin was all empty.

He thought about his life before and after Magnus. He wondered if he would have a good life still if he wasn’t turned into a vampire. The thought of not meeting with you sent a gut-wrenching pain to his stomach. You’d be centuries apart, in different lives and countries. The picture of you marrying a decent man that your family found for you, wear a wedding dress for him, have his children, raise kids that looked like you and some man, have fights and love making nights with him, grow old with him and hold his hand while you greeted by the merciful arms of death made him tear up. He felt his heart pound painfully fast in his chest. A sob ripped from his throat and this time he didn’t cover his mouth. The guilt ate him from inside out. The honeymoon was over and now, he had the face the fact that he stole your whole life, your one chance of being alive, only for him to take your love for himself, selfishly and hungrily.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks urned into months, Lestat started to lose his hopes of seeing you again. Once again he was assured that no one could love a man like him. He didn’t want to stay in the house that use to be the home to two of you. Every corner was you and he couldn’t finish a day without thinking of the times you had spent together. But the small chance of you coming back made him stay. If you wanted to come back, you would love to see everything same and your husband waiting for you, Lestat told himself in the moments of doubt.

And one day you opened that door and came back. He was in the music room when he heard your heart beats. He felt like the time had frozen and his heart skipped a beat. His fingers on the piano stopped, his lips twitched with longing and tears formed in his eyes. When he saw you again, standing in front of him, beautiful as always, he wanted to get on his knees in front of you and beg you to forgive him for what he did to you. Then his eyes found the little body of the human boy in your arms. The child was maximum 4 and he was shaking uncontrollable. His blonde hair was dump on his forehead and weak breaths mixed with moans were leaving his mouth. Lestat didn’t need to be doctor to know that the boy was in great pain. And perhaps fear.

“He is going to die.” You said and hearing your voice after years made Lestat break down. He had to turn around at the doorway to hide his tears.

“Help me. Please.” Cracked noise from your sore throat was heard in the room. The boy was clinging to your dress, like a little lamb. You walked towards your husband as you held the little child tighter.

“Please save him. For me?” Lestat didn’t know if he was feeling grateful that you were back, guilty for his mistake or angry because you only showed up when you needed something from him. He looked at the boy. He was cute little thing with blue eyes like ocean and long blonde lashes that framed his doe eyes. He saw his clear tears run down his face as he coughed. An innocent, Lestat thought. An innocent dying in the arms of the woman I love.

“You can turn him. I don’t know how to. But you do. Please Lestat.” He saw your tears dripping down to the boy’s hands on your dress. The pain in your voice twisted his stomach. You sounded helpless and he whished nothing more than take this feeling away from you.

He shook his head no.

“I can’t.” He spoke. The dryness in his voice made more tears fall down your eyes. You held the boy closer to your heart. His head rested on your heart as you caressed his blonde curls. The curls that reminded you so much of Lestat.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me, please!” You were ready to beg if you needed to. There was nothing more you wanted than saving his little life. He had to live. He had to survive this filthy world and show everyone that he was strong. And maybe you would have a chance of being a mother.

“Children cannot be turned.” Lestat said as he reached out to hold you but you took a step back. You were shaking your head endlessly as tears kept flowing down your cheeks.

“Great laws forbid it. Otherwise a vampire child would live in misery.” He remembered Marius’s voice as he spoke these words to him before he sent him away. Someone under 17 cannot be given the dark gift.

“Laws? Are you serious? He will die if you don’t save him!” Your scream echoed through the walls and found his ears and heart. Your anger and sorrow shook him slightly. He knew he was walking on thin ice in this very moment. You could turn around and leave him again. And never come back this time. Who knows maybe you would find another vampire out there that could be your companion? Or turn this little boy for you to only make you happy? The thought hardened his blood and tightened his chest.

“My love, he won’t be saved if I turn him. He will live his life in desperation. For something more. Something he will never have.” He said gently as he wiped his tears away. He had to be strong. For both of you. His eyes found the boy again. He was so thin. Lestat wanted to put an end to his suffering. The boy’s eyes opened slightly and he looked at you. His fingers were shut tight over the fabric of your dress. Lestat could feel your love and care for him. You felt like you had to protect him. The boy’s big eyes found him. He looked at him with softness and hope. His eyes are full of life even when his life slips away from his body, just like hers were once upon a time, Lestat thought.

“We can be a family Lestat. He can be our son.” You said quietly. As if you feared that the world would take him away from you if they heard your words. “He looks just like you.”

Lestat didn’t look away from the boy. Yes, he did look like him. His blonde curls were just over his shoulders and his nose was small like Lestat’s nose when he was little. His mother loves him, unlike mine, he told himself.

“You and I and him. We can be happy together. We can try again.” The desperation in your voice broke his heart. You were willing to go back to him. To where you belong. Lestat wanted you back in the house, in his arms, in his coffin. He wanted you on his lips, on his skin. He wanted your fangs back in his neck and your heart on his. He wanted to be the one made you smile again and he wanted to be your dance partner in your extravagant parties. He wanted the boy to watch two of you as you danced and clap for his parents. He wanted to take him into his arms and feel a father’s strength in his bones. He wanted the pure and unconditional love of a son. The one he used to have for his father, way before he became his father’s unexplainable enemy. He wanted to see the boy become a man and be his pride.

“We are killers. A child has no place among the demons.” His words cut sharp as the boy started to cough again. The blood covered his lips as you tried to calm him down. Your own tears were spilling uncontrollably and sobs were coming between your lips. Lestat heard your irregular heartbeats.

“He cannot die.” You said between your sobs and cries as the boy kept coughing his blood out. You fell to your knees and kept his little head on your heart. His small, fragile hands were holding your hand tight. The fear in his eyes were piercing trough Lestat chest. He knelt beside you, held your back to his chest as you rocked back and forth. Both of you stopped breathing as the boy’s heartbeats started to slow down. His breaths calmed down and he closed his eyes. He clinged to your cold skin and did not let your hand go. With his last breath your head dropped back to Lestat’s shoulder. His arms were wrapped tight around both you and the boy. His long fingers intertwined with your and the boy’s hand. His decreasing temperature was slowly matching the coldness of both vampires.

“My son…” he hard your whisper. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling. Lestat buried his face in your neck when your cries filled the room. If only I could take all your pain away, he wanted to say but words did not leave his mouth. He could take your pain away, if only he made you a mother and gave you another family.

Lestat carried you to the coffin when you were exhausted from crying. He took the boy’s lifeless body and burnt it while you slept. He stayed until he was nothing but ash. He looked at the scene as the flames took him away and listened as his bones cracked and his flesh melted down. He didn’t let himself cry. It was his vilest murder. He had no right to feel guilt or shame.

He laid beside you in the coffin. You were whispering and crying still, even in your sleep. His fingers traced over your hands gently. He looked at your sleeping form and took a deep breath. Your scent filled his lungs once again after many years. His insides blossomed and he felt the life come back to his body. You were his home. It didn’t matter to him which form you were in or how you looked like. It didn’t matter if you were laughing or in sorrow. As long as you were beside him, he was happy to have you in any way. And you were back. Lestat knew he could not let you go again. Not after this night. Not when you needed him the most. He was the only one you had left with and he had no intention of leaving you alone. He was going to make you happy again. Just two of you were enough.

“You came into my life when I needed you the most. Now it is my turn to bring you joy.” He whispered to your ear and wrapped his arm around your waist. Your eyes opened as he closed his own. Your gaze traveled trough his beautiful features. He was beautiful as the first day you saw him. Years ago, in that party, where you were still innocent and human. Now I know that devil can be this pretty, you thought.

Lestat was in the corner of your mind for 8 years. You were carrying him in you wherever you traveled to. His face was carved onto your eyelids and you were too afraid to close your eyes. His voice kept echoing in your head when you killed, drank or spared a life. You played his favourite songs on the piano when you needed him by your side. But no matter how much you missed him, you couldn’t forgive him. You knew Lestat De Lioncourt loved you. You felt it in your bones, in your flesh. You carried his love in your veins. But you knew he cursed you forever. And you weren’t naive like you used to be to forgive and forget what he did to you. You were young and in love. How could you know it meant to lose your everything when you gave yourself to him that night?

You could not deny the fact that you were happy at first. Lestat gave you things no one ever did. He respected you, he loved you gently and made you feel like the only woman in the world. And you loved him. There was something in Lestat that pulled you to him. You were like opposite sides of a magnet. It felt right to touch and kiss him. Your heart craved for his heart just like your body craved for him. When he was deep in you, made you scream his name and planted soft kisses to your face, life was good. Until you started to see question marks on people’s faces. You were in peace with your fate and the things came with your new life. But everything seemed meaningless once it cost you your family. Lestat’s arms failed to comfort you when you were invited to your own father’s funeral at the last minute and saw that no one wanted you there. Not even your own mother.

You were motherless and fatherless. You were a demon who could only see the world under the dark sky. You could only stay alive if you killed humans. And seeing Lestat every single moment of your life vexed you. At the time you needed someone to blame other than yourself. You were already aware of your mistakes. And knowing that Lestat still turned you despite the fact that he knew what kind of a curse he was bringing on you, made his existence unbearable. You had to leave. You had to be alone with yourself after decades of marriage. Still, no matter where you went, Lestat was the only thing your heart ever wanted. You would always love him.

Then you found him. Leonardo. That was his name, you tried to remember. He was the son of a homeless woman that lived on the street of your small home. It was nighttime when you heard his cries. You saw his dead mother and him crying his eyes out over her body. You felt your heart shatter into pieces with the sight in front of you. He was so small and so scared. When his blue eyes found you and you could see his face clearly, you knew that you could not leave him to die. His arms reached out to you when you knelt beside him. He didn’t know why his mother wasn’t waking up and taking him into her arms. He was shaking and coughing between his sobs full of fear.

“Mummy.” He cried as you caressed his blonde curls to calm him down. He was cold and hungry and sick. I want to help you. I need to hold you, you thought as he snuggled to your chest. There was only one person who could help you. But could you go back to him? After everything that happened between you? Could you find that strength in yourself or would he take you back?

“Mummy!” Leonardo screeched in your lap in pain as his coughs got harder. His little hands were trying to hold your arms. You had to do it. Both for yourself and him. So that was now you found yourself in front of the door of your home.

You reached to hold his cheek. His breath quickened with your touch but his eyes kept shut. You were pressed against him. Your lips were nearly touching and you could feel his breaths all over your face. Your fingertips traced over his face to his neck and to his chest. His body shook. The soft touch made you both shiver when your hand slipped under his expensive shirt. It has been years since you last touched one another and you realised how much you missed him. You needed to touch him. When you pressed your lips against his, Lestat’s arms wrapped tighter around you. His kisses and biting continued to your neck and to your chest. The soft lips of your lover were sending you into oblivion. You had to be closer to him. Closer than being skin to skin, something more, something more painful, something full of love and the suffering that comes with it. Something that would destroy that pit in your stomach and be worth of all your sorrow.

“I love you. I live you. I-“ Lestat’s raggedy voice stopped as he kept kissing you hungrily. His words weren’t able to keep up with his desire. Your mind was foggy as he undressed himself first, then you. Tears were flowing down your cheeks and you were feeling his cold fingers spread the wetness between your legs. His fingertip caressed your leaking opening and moans left your mouth. You could barely see because of tears when you held his face and made him look at you. He was crying too. You kissed him. His tears and yours mixed up and found your pressed lips. The taste of blood was exquisite, vibrating, destructive.

The next thing you knew was you were on top of him, the lid of the coffin was wide opened, he was inside you, fully. You rode him to the bottom of the coffin, hard and deep as his impressive size stretched you out immensely. Your eyes rolled back when his hands groped your breasts. He was talking but you couldn’t hear him. Your ears were ringing and the pain was too great. Your moves became faster and harsher. Your sharp nails digged into his chest and scratched him all over.

“You’re crying.” Finally you heard him and opened your eyes again. It was a mess in his coffin. His chest, between your legs, his face, your body, you were both covered in blood. Yet Lestat managed to smile when he saw the unsettled look on your face. He held your waits tight and moved you back on forth gently on him. He kept caressing your body and say sweet nothings as he controlled your movements.

All the memories of your shared life passed before your eyes as you went closer to the edge. Your legs shook when Lestat’s thumb found your pearl and circled it skilfully. There was a soreness in your throat and your climax was building in your lower belly. The image of two of you filled your mind over and over again. The image of you happy. Would you be able to be like that again? You didn’t know. And learning the answer of this question scared you to death.

“I can’t.” You cried out when your orgasm hit you hard. Your body froze as Lestat kept his hands on you and reached to his climax. His dead seed spilled into you. Deep into your dead womb that was never going to be a home to a babe. Was Lestat enough for you to be fulfilled? Were you going to be enough for him when he got bored of searching for things that made him feel human, made him feel young again?

When you made eye contact again, you could see fear and doubt in his eyes. He was scared that you were going to leave him, just like everyone he ever loved. And he was not sure if it was still you in your body. He was looking for you in the eyes he saw for thousands of times and more. Yet nothing about your eyes felt familiar. Your body felt like you, your kisses felt like you, your heart felt like you. But it was almost like a death itself looking down at him in this moment. He left out a deep breath when you leaned down and laid on his chest.

His heartbeats were fast under your cheek. You turned a little and pressed a tender kiss to his chest. And another. And another. You kissed him until new tears stained your face. You hoped that you could find him again one day. You hoped that you were both humans when you meet again. You hoped that you had a life in another world, with the love of your life. You knew Lestat would find you no matter what. He would love you the same if not more. He would be yours in every lifetime until you had no more love to give.

“I’ll love you forever. Now and always. Until my last day and after.” You whispered but your quiet words reached to Lestat’s ears. He smiled sadly, his tears spilled down to his paper white pillow. He tried to speak but his voice shattered.

“And I you.” He could only say without sobbing. He shut his eyes tight when he heard you fall asleep on him. Tomorrow was going to be better. Everything was going to alright. He had you in his arms. And he needed nothing more.

—

When Lestat opened his eyes again, the first thing he felt was pain. His eyes were watering and he couldn’t even press his lips together to cover up his moans. He licked his dry, chapped lips with the last strength before he was breathless again. In the darkness of his coffin, his shiny eyes looked around desperately. He could feel the air hitting his burned body and make his wounds boil. He cried out your name. You were not in his arms. Where could you possibly be? Were you harmed too? What if you were harmed worse than him? You were younger and weaker than your maker. Lestat had to put himself together and find you, his dear fledgling. When he pushed opened his coffin lid, he saw the the wide open curtains that were usually closed. It was dark outside. The moon light was the only thing that was bright in the pitch black room.

It was only then he saw his burned body. Front of his arms, his whole chest, his thighs and his face were all covered in ashy wounds that were slowly healing. His blood red flesh was showing trough the burned skin pieces. They sizzled as the new skin was forming over them. But before he could think about his wounds, he had to find you. Why the curtains were open? They were always supposed to be shut. Just in case if any of you had to wake up when sun was still up during the day. He dragged his feet to the short, wide corridor of the second floor. All the doors and the windows were open, he frowned in confusion. His head was banging quiet like a bomb explosion. His body was aching and he was afraid. He was afraid just like the night Magnus took him from his room.

He walked fast as he could and entered the music room. You were no where to be seen. Lestat’s nose scrunched when he breathed in the strange smell in the room. He felt the smell stick onto his lungs and enter every bit of him. It was haunting and indescribable. It almost felt like he could taste it on his tongue. That strange, unpleasant, obnoxious flavour was so familiar on Lestat’s throat, yet he could find no name for it. He took few steps to his piano. His favourite tunes ringed in his ears. He could see your ghost of a fingers on the keyboard, playing all gracefully.

When he looked down, a pile of grey, powdery substance caught his attention. How could he possibly not see this when he entered the room? He got on his knees and the source of smell was undeniably found. As he touched the powder, he felt his whole body shake in horror. His eyes closed tight when the faded memory of you getting up from the coffin came back.

“I love you. I love you. I love…” the words were repeated over and over again. Not thousands but maybe hundreds and thousands of times. He could hear you. You were not in the coffin. He could hear your steps in the room. Then he could hear your steps in the corridor. You were going in and out of rooms. Lestat could hear you mumbling things under your breath. He could hear your heartbeats and your rushed moves.

He wanted to open the lid of his coffin and get out. It was probably near sunrise and you had to go back to sleeping. When he pushed the lid, something blocked his exit. He tried to kick it and punch it when he heard you play the piano and keep talking.

“I want to see the sun rise in the sky again.” You said. “I want to see the clouds on the blue ocean of time.”

He called for you but you were not listening to him. As you played the melody from start to end, the fear in Lestat’s heart grew stronger. And when your fingers stopped, he felt a sharp pain all over his body. It was something he had never felt before. The greatest pain he felt was when he was transformed. He could never forget what it felt like for the next thousand years. But this, this was different. It was coming from somewhere deep. He wanted to rip his stomach open and find the core of the pain. His coffin got filled with his dreadful scream and he heard you shout in agony. He felt the pain in every inch of his body. With one last hard kick, he opened the lid successfully. Only to be greeted by bright, warm sunlight that was glowing beautifully in your shared chambers.

His skin started to burn immediately, and it was then Lestat knew what was happening. His jaw clenched and his tears burned his wounds when he heard your screams from the other side of the house.

“What have you done?!” He shouted but you didn’t respond. The sunlight was nothing compared the pain he was in as you kept burning. He could feel his blood boil in veins as yours dried up under the daylight. You were leaving him.

‘I have loved you, with everything I had in me.’ Lestat didn’t know if you spoke aloud or he just imagined, rather wished you have said it. Maybe it wasn’t too late, Lestat tried to get up but his body was damaged enormously. He could feel the sunlight penetrate into his bones with every second he was spending in front of the open curtains. But he had to save you! He cried and tried to get up again. And again and again. Until he couldn’t hear your screams anymore.

The house fell into a dead silence in seconds. Only thing that could be heard was the silent sizzling of Lestat’s burns. He stoped breathing and he stoped trying to get up. His lifeless eyes fell onto his hands. He laid back in his coffin and pulled the lid back on with a stinging move.

It was a nightmare. An unbelievably bad nightmare. Maybe the worst one he had have been for decades. You were sleeping in your own coffin peacefully. Lestat was going to see you when sun came down and he was going to kiss your lips with a smile on his face. He was going to carry you around the house like a princess and read your favourite poems just for you. You were going to forgive. And maybe in time, you were going to forget. He was going to change and try to be someone better than who he was now. Both of you were going to be happy again, together. He smiled with excitement with the thoughts on his mind. The smell of burned flesh tickled his nose.

—

“You do not know this girl!” Lestat said aggressively as he watched Louis lay the little girl on the bed carefully. Louis’s bright green eyes were full of fear and guilt when he faced Lestat again.

“Make her like us!” He said with a bitter hope in his voice. Lestat pressed his lips together when he heard him utter those words. This cannot be happening, he assured himself hopelessly.

“Non c’est impossible. Elle est trop jeune!” Lestat said in frustration as Louis walked closer to him with hurry. Lestat's heart was pounding fast in his chest. The images of a distant memory was blurring his vision. The same eyes from decades ago were looking at him again. The same eyes that were full of guilt, sorrow and hope with an innocent child at the edge of death in the arms of the person he loved. His chest tightened when Louis kept talking, pleading to save the little girl’s life. What could Lestat do? Was he curse to live same life over and over again for the rest of the eternity?

He could never forget you. He didn’t know how long he mourned you. Days, months, years? Maybe he was still mourning you with the little box in his closet that was filled with your ashes. It took him years to find the courage to try again. And when he kissed Louis for the first time, he felt like finding light in his murky world. But guilt ate him inside out. He wondered if you would be wounded when you learned that he was capable of loving again. He tried to reassure himself that the thing he had with Louis was different than what he had with you. You would always be his wife. Your wedding ring on a necklace that was around his neck was the proof of it.

“Please I can’t have her die!” The pain in Louis’s voice broke his heart. He remembered this feeling so well that it almost hit him on the face. He remembered how it felt like to be helpless when his lover was begging him to change things, set things right and how he couldn’t do it.

“The gift cannot be given to children.” He said when his anger and fear filled him to his limit. The look on Louis’s face twisted something in his stomach.

“What do you mean? Yes it can.” Louis said breathlessly as he tried to find his strength back. All he needed was to save this girl’s precious life. She laid on the bed, unconscious, coughing out the flames silently and she was all he needed in that moment.

“The great laws forbid it!” Lestat spited out as if he had poison on his tongue. Anger appeared on Louis’s face and Lestat regretted what he just said.

“The great laws?” Louis said mockingly. He sounded bitter and every octave of his voice cut both men deeply. “She gonna die in front of us!”

The next thing Lestat knew was that Louis dragged the little girl on the flour, cried, begged, cried, fell on his knees in front of his companion and cried. Louis’s usually gentle hands found Lestat’s body, he held onto him like he was the last thing on the world.

“Please, please.” It was all Lestat could hear. And the little girl’s raggedy breaths that were becoming slower and slower.

“My beautiful little daughter.” Lestat could not swallow, could not hold his tears back or his heartbeats stable when he heard Louis’s voice shatter as he said the words. He hated how his story repeated itself. He hated how he was always the one who had to make this decision.

“Please I’ll be anything.” Louis begged and cried. Lestat wanted to curl into a ball and never wake up again. He looked down at this companion, his lover, the man who saved him, begging him to make him a father.

“Please, please, please…” It was all Louis was saying when Lestat remembered your screams after your little boy died. He remembered how yours eyes looked dead inside and even your smiles were full of grief. He remembered how you begged him and he didn’t listen to you. And then how he lost you. He was a fool to think that you were going to be alright after your son died. He was a fool to think you were going to forgive him and be happy again. And he was a fool to think that you were going to stay with him after what he did to you.

There was a no day passed after your death that he didn’t regret not turning that boy. Great laws forbid it! At what cost he had followed the laws when he was on the other side of the world, oceans away from the last vampire he had seen? He regretted his choice everyday of his last few years and he didn’t know if he would be able to mourn one more person.

He looked down at Louis and saw your crying eyes stare back at him. He looked up instantly.

“You will regret this for the rest of your life.” He said. Yet he didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Louis. Maybe both. He walked to the little girl on the floor and picked her body with ease. Poor thing was covered in burns and couldn’t open her eyes. His blue eyes found Louis’s relieved shoulders and his fangs found the girl’s small neck.

[kotemf]

If soldier, why so buir shaped?

  Fox was never particularly fond of cadets.

  During their training on Kamino, they were sometimes assigned to watch younger troopers and train with them. Fox hated those training sessions. Cadets were... they were tiny. Fragile. Fox always spend the session in fear of breaking their little bones. The cadets for their part were usually afraid of Fox. Fox didn't really know why. It certainly wasn't his face, the cadets liked the rest of his batchmates just fine and they loved Cody and Wolffe.

  Nat-born children tended to fear the clones, even if the Coruscant guard was there to help them, to protect them. They all learned not to take it personally, the armor probably did look rather intimidating to normal people and there were also loads of anti-war propaganda that usually antagonized clones because they were the ones who were fighting, it didn't matter to them that they only fought because they had to.

  So yes, Fox was quite surprised when a random Zabrak child ran up to him, hugged him and refused to let go. He looked around. There were no anxious parents looking for a lost kid.

  "Hey, what are you doing here all alone?" Fox tried his best to not look like a big, scary clone commander. He could tell his efforts weren't successful. In his defense, appear non-threatening in a full set of armor and a blaster strapped to your thigh was a pretty difficult task. The child didn't look scared of him, though. Quite the opposite.

  They didn't answer.

  "What's your name?" Fox tried instead. He wasn't good at guessing people's age but this child was at least five standard years old. Five years old nat-borns were old enough to know their name, right?

  The child muttered something Fox didn't quite catch.

  "Can you say it louder?"

  "I don't have a name."

  "You don't?" Now that was a situation Fox wasn't prepared for. As far as he knew, nat-borns were supposed to have names. According to everything he's ever read about nat-borns, parents usually named their child whie they were still a baby. They weren't like clones, who had to wait for when their batchmates picked them a name, usually based on something they did or something they liked.

  The little Zabrak nodded. After taking a closer look, Fox guessed they were most likely male but he wasn't certain.

  "Where are your parents?"

  "I don't know."

  "Alright. I will take you to my office now and we will find them."

  "No! I'm not supposed to find them."

  "What do you mean?" Nat-born children were supposed to love their parents, or at least Fox has always thought that. Because why wouldn't they? Nat-born parents weren't like the Kaminoans, emotionless and only caring about perfection. They weren't like the trainers, only trying to get the best results out of their trainees no matter what it cost. They weren't a genetic template who only wanted one son and money and didn't care about anyone else. No, parents were an entirely different thing. They loved their children, they protected their children and they provided for them. So why exactly wouldn't this nameless kid be supposed to find their parents?

  The child shrugged. "They left me here and told me not to follow them."

  Alright, that was weird. It almost sounded as if these parents wanted to get rid of their kid so they just left him alone on a random place on Coruscant? "Do you like your parents?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "They are mean."

  So apparently parents could be mean. Fox supposed he was going to have to work with that. "And why did you come to me?"

  "Because you feel kind."

  "What?"

  "You feel kind," the kid repeated themselves. Fox had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

  "Okay. Now we will go to my office and get you something to eat, what do you say?" Fox hoped he was doing this right. He had no idea how to talk to children.

  "Okay."

  Bringing a child into the Coruscant Guard's headquarters was a big deal, apparently. Fox didn't do anything more than sit the kid in his office and give him a glass of water and some of the priced treats Fox sometimes got from the nicer senators that he liked to give shinies and his comrades in particularly bad situations. The only other food available were ration bars and that was no food for a child.

  Not that the kid was in need. Ever since Fox brought him in, troopers have been coming into his office, bringing the child treats that Fox didn't really know where they got from, makeshift toys or just to take a look.

  "Aww, he's so tiny!" Thire cooed upon seeing the kid.

  "Told you he's a cute little thing."

  "Shut up, Thorn. It's not my fault I had senate duty and couldn't come to look at him sooner."

  Fox made a show of covering the kids ears. 'Shut up' wasn't by far the worst thing that the troopers said and Fox usually didn't mind but there was a child in the room!

  "I never would have guessed that marshal commander I have a stick up my ass Fox would become such a buir." Thorn grinned at him. He seriously had to stop swearing around the child or else. And Fox shouls also probably get rightfully offended to save his reputation of having, as Thorn put it, a stick up his ass.

  "So that's how you address your commanding officers?"

  "Apparently."

  "You know, senator Clovis requested a bodyguard to accompany him to a meeting with banking clan..."

  "No. Not Clovis. Please. I beg you." Thorn seemed terrified. Any trooper would. Senator Clovis was always rather awful to clones and he was so suspicious the Corries had a betting pool on when he openly defected to the Seppies. 

  "Maybe if you will kindly stop swearing in front of a child, I might consider looking further, even if you certainly have all the required skills."

  "Yeah, sure. Anything. Just not Clovis."

  Fox decided to take that as a promise. The kid didn't seem to get what was going on but he wasn't complaining. A darling really.

  It was a few hours later that the boy started to get bored. Fox tried entertaining him with a holo movie but that didn't work, the child felt the need to share what was going on the screen every minute or so. So Fox downloaded him a video game. That seemed to work. Until now.

  "Do you really have to work?"

  "Yes."

  "Why do you have to work so much?"

  "Because I have things that need to be done and I have a certain amount of time for each of them. Like this form that I'm filling right now, this one needs to be done today," Fox did his best to explain. In his humble opinion, he was getting pretty good at answering the kid's curious questions.

  "Oh... Okay. And will you play with me when you're done?"

  "I will have some more work then but we can play when I'm done, okay?"

  "Okay."

  The kid was clearly trying to be quiet. He wasn't very good at it. He was either kicking into Fox's desk, opening random drawers and then always sighing in disappointment when there was nothing but stacks of paper work, or quietly humming to himself. It was distracting but Fox let it slide. He remembered how difficult it was for him and his batchmates to stay silent when they were cadets. The only thing keeping them quiet was their fear of the Kaminoans and the trainers and he didn't want this sweet little thing to ever experience something like that.

  "Fox?"

  "Yes, kiddo?"

  "Will you get angry if I make things float?"

  "What?"

  "If I make things float," the boy repeated himself.

  Fox wondered for a bit if floating had any other meaning than, well, floating. He didn't think of anything so he just assumed it was some kind of a game. "Of course I won't get angry."

  The child beamed at him. Then the boy reached out with his hand and made the data pad Fox borrowed him float.

  And that's how the Coruscant Guard got their Jedi.

[mr-shimurka]

Little speaker was caught "stealing" magic book from the Belmont's Hold (;

Ps. Say hello for second Trepha's daughter Ann Belmont :3

And what do you think abt long haired Sypha? :3

[babygirl-diaz]

*In which Buck and Eddie have a daughter*

Evelyn: I saw daddy kissing Santa Claus under the mistletoe last night. I’m gonna tell papa!

Chris: That WAS papa, Evie

Evelyn: No, it wasn’t. It was Santa Claus! He had the beard, the belly, and everything!

Chris: Well, that wasn’t the real Santa Claus. That was just papa dressed as Santa Claus

Evelyn, crying: Santa Claus isn’t real?

Chris: Santa Claus IS real. I’m just saying that that THAT Santa isn’t real. That was just papa.

Evelyn, crying more: There’s two Santa Claus?

Chris: Technically there are more than two. I mean every parent on this planet is Santa Claus

Evelyn, crying even more: So there is no Santa Claus?

Chris: There IS. There is a Santa Claus. Just not the way you think.

Evelyn, screaming and crying: THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS! DADDY!

Chris, also crying: I’m sorry! There is a Santa Claus! Papa!

Buck: Should we… uh step in?

Eddie: No let’s just wait and see where this goes

[steviewashere]

There is a Vine

Rating: General CW: None Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Dad Steve Harrington, Dad Eddie Munson, Original Child Character, Fic Inspired by a Song, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Boys in Love, Steve Harrington Sings (But He's Very Shy About It) Inspired by the song "There is a Vine" by Connie Converse. Lyrics in the fic, and the title belong to that song <3

🎵——————🎵

Steve doesn't usually sing around or to other people. He's really private about it. Not because his voice is bad or anything, but it's the one thing he does get embarrassed about. Just the nature of doing it in front of other people makes his palms sweat. So he very rarely does it.

He does it a lot around Robin, but that took quite some time. It took Robin openly singing The Cars so poorly, that Steve had to chime in and sing over her in the car. He'll only sing around Robin in the car.

He's not one to do it around any of the Party members. Not even Dustin. Doesn't do it a lot in front of Nancy—that one Bob Seger joke plays back in his mind a lot, and he cringes at it before he goes to sleep.

It's not until way later in his life that he begins to do it a lot.

In 2010, he gets married to Eddie in Boston, Massachusetts. Their relationship was slow to blossom. One that didn't begin until 1997, when they could finally let go of the past and be comforted by one another's presence near constantly. It was a tepid, tentative, hesitant beginning. But then they're married and it's the most wonderful thing in the world.

Sometimes, Eddie catches Steve singing in the shower. But that's been happening since they've been roomies—1992 and onwards. He'll hear Steve mumble lyrics while making dinner. Maybe hum along to a song in the car. He never says anything about it, doesn't join in unless prompted to. And that's okay, Eddie knows. Because he relishes in Steve's soft, sort of raspy voice. It reaches beyond his ribcage and coats his lungs, his heart, his everything in a sticky layer of security he's never felt with anybody else.

And then, only a year and a half into their relationship, they're approved to adopt a newborn girl named Olivia. She's cute and small, has big blue eyes and wispy brown hair. She'll smile at anything. Her giggles are high pitched and squealing. They're wrapped around her finger, just as tightly as her whole hand swamps Steve's indexes.

But the most noticeable thing is that she cries quite a bit. And she's never quiet about it. They've tried everything. Making sure her crib bedding is debris free, even warmed by the dryer. They've swaddled her tightly. Played white noise in her nursery—when she was allowed space away from their bedroom. Read her bedtime stories. Gave her a short, warm bath before bed. Everything. They've tried everything.

Then, Eddie comes home early in the evening one day. He can smell pot roast from the kitchen, cooking low since this morning in their crockpot. The living room is lit by a few ambient lights—one candle, that he'll have to tell Steve to not leave unattended. Otherwise, though, there's nobody greeting him at the door; which isn't completely unusual, but he expects it to happen most of the time, as it does.

What catches him, though, is the low rasp of Steve singing. A small and gentle coo following a few lyrics.

"There is a gate halfway down my garden wall, And in the night I lock it, bolts and all, And in the day it's open wide to all who would come through, But, day or night, it is never locked for you."

He carefully, mindful of the creaks in the floor, comes down their apartment's hallway. And on his left, only a couple feet in, is the nursery. Where, when he peeks through the cracked door, he spots Steve in their rocking chair, gently cradling their little Olivia in his lap. One hand on her head and neck, the other tucked under her bottom. Steve's slowly making the chair rock—back and forth and back and—with the heels of his bare feet. He's dressed down, having stayed home with the kiddo, in his pajamas—the same white t-shirt and green tartan fleece bottoms he's worn since 1989, still fitting him somehow, even with the weight that comes with age. He's got his glasses slipping low to the tip of his nose, as if he just got done reading one of the bedtime storybooks. Eddie looks over to the side table next to the chair—lo and behold, Corduroy is sitting closed.

Steve begins singing again:

"There is a tree growing by my garden gate And year by year it seems to stand and wait, And here am I beneath the tree, for I am waiting too, And, oh, my love, I will always wait for you."

His voice goes to a low whisper at the last word. Gone with the song as Olivia coos and gently snores in Steve's lap. Eddie watches him stand slowly from the chair, carefully carry her to the crib, and lay her down all swaddled up in a pink blanket. And before he can scramble away from the door, Steve is opening it. Coming face to face with Eddie.

They walk out back to the hallway so the door can be closed. And Steve begins to go out to the kitchen. "Hey, baby," Steve greets softly, "I didn't hear you come home."

"I was trying to keep quiet," Eddie says, voice just as low. "So...did you and Liv have a good day?"

Steve bustles around the kitchen. Takes the lid off of the crockpot, shreds the contents inside with a few forks. He washes his hands in the sink. Pulls a few plates from the cupboards. Pushes his glasses up his nose again.

"Hm, yeah, just spent a lot of time in her nursery today," Steve answers, "she was kind of fussy. Think it was the last day of that cold she picked up from Robin when she visited. I might've picked it up from her, so be wary of that." He doesn't even look up from his plates to glance at Eddie in the doorway, just dishes up dinner as if nothing happened. And nothing really did, Eddie knows that realistically. But he's never heard Steve sing that much in one sitting—in front of another person, at least.

He busies himself with pulling utensils from the drawer while Steve is still dishing up dinner. Fusses with trying to find the smaller of the big forks they have, just so he can make sure Steve gets his favorite one. "That song," he tentatively points out, "I've never heard that one before."

Instead of making a big deal out of being caught, Steve flushes pink and shrugs. "Heard it off of an album," he murmurs, "the one my mom sent out of the blue last week."

"That one she said had a song that reminded her of you?"

"Mhm," Steve hums. He puts the lid back on the crockpot, so nonchalant. Carries the plates to the table, and Eddie trails after. "It was that song, in fact."

Eddie makes a sound of understanding. "'T's a pretty song," he idly comments, "seems like Olivia enjoyed it."

"Think it might be the new lullaby for a little while," Steve says, sitting down with his food. "But you don't have to worry about learning it."

That takes Eddie by surprise. He sits, too, but hardly makes a noise. "Yeah?" he says, "you sure?"

Steve just nods. Cuts a piece of his roast with his fork, scoops it up, but doesn't bring it to his mouth quite yet. "I like singing to her," he states, a soft smile joining those words. "She looks at me like I'm...like I'm her whole world. I want her to know she's mine, too."

Eddie smiles back, soft, no teeth. Begins to tear apart his food, too. "It's because she's right," he says, "you're hers—our whole world."

Steve doesn't say anything to that. Sheepish and oddly shy. Eddie knows that Steve would say it back, he takes no offense to the silence. Adoring instead how Steve seems...quietly happy and completely in peace.

"I love you, baby," Eddie speaks softly, "you did a great job today."

"I love you, too."

🎵——————🎵

[genyawritesshizz]

A Hum of Time. Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Part 5

Summary: An innocent relationship between two workaholics could not possibly be that eventful. Just two individuals finding comfort within each other's company and the occasional cup of coffee. What happens when a secret that could ruin both of their careers brings the whole thing crashing down? In a heart wrenching decision, you must do what is best for all three of you and brave the future alone. Will you ever tell the truth? You might not have a choice.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

8081-word count

It's happier I promise :)

It has been six years since the incident. Any blog or post related to you had long ago been swept away into the ever-changing sea of media, buried far below, never to resurface. The name Siren was long forgotten.

Following being discharged after over two months of recovery you had changed your names and moved to the opposing coast. The opportunity for another fresh start alighted new found hope for the future. The saved money from your time as a hero and life insurance payout David had carefully pulled allowed the two of you the luxury of ease and into a mundane title of stay at home mom. 

Despite everything that happened, every sacrifice made, and every sleepless night it was all well worth their price at being present to watch your boy grow. You loved him more than you had ever thought possible. A mother’s love is a force of nature, boundless and unconditional. 

Even if he could be a pain at times. 

Admittedly handling a four-year-old who’s temper tantrums could burst your eardrums had been one of your toughest battles. Thankful that he had inherited something of yours but also woeful for both yourself and the neighbors; He had manifested your vocal quirk.

After many replaced windows, pitiable apologize, and endless pep talks he had finally learned to somewhat control it. With his quirk and gaining of maturity came questions. He could faintly remember you as a hero all those years ago, fortunately however not much. Just that you wore an ‘awesome’ costume and got hurt. 

You never told him the truth. Instead opting to lie whenever his bubbling curiosity peaked. Stating that back in the day you were simply a sidekick to some one off low tier hero. Nothing special. Just scratching the surface of heroism, that you had thrown in the towel after getting hurt all those years ago. 

Not a complete lie. 

Yet far from the whole truth. 

This still fascinated him. 

Late at night as you tucked the restless child to bed, he would beg for stories, pictures, anything from back then. Occasionally after seemingly endless hours of impetration you’d buckle to his demands, telling a watered down tale of the past. Even as you regaled the simplest of petty robberies, he looked to you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, as if you were the reason that rain fell. Big blue fascinated eyes with a wide smile filled with astonishment chanted your praises in complete and utter admiration.

“Momma is the coolest!” “Momma is the best hero!” “Momma is my hero!”

‘Momma is my hero.’

Oh, how your heart melted at his words. The giddy childlike wonder pushed any nightmarish trauma to the back recesses of your mind. Though, that did not mean it disappeared. 

Haunting memories of the past always found a way to resurface.

As he grew older, near the age of six, he discovered how to use the home computer. Spending hours watching videos online of other heroes, it was only a matter of time until he inevitably stumbled upon a video of All Might. Despite your parental controls blocking the tag. Where there's a will there's a way, this kid was stubborn. Since the discovery he could not stop watching, completely enamored. The daunting words “I am here” blaring from the computer's speakers echoed with your son's delightful laughter bounced off the walls of your shared home.

Over and over. 

Taunting. 

Mocking. 

It stung the deepest depths of your faulty heart to hear his voice day in and day out. 

To watch your son fall in love with a man who too used to hold your heart… 

Yet you did not have the heart nor the courage to demand he turn it off.

A particular moment replayed in your mind.

You had just come home from a quick trip to the market. Nearing the age of elven you entrusted him to stay home alone for short periods of time especially when, if provoked, he could scream loud enough for anyone clear across the city to hear. Yet when he did not meet you at the door or answer your call your stomach dropped. As you began to call for him again your words suctioned themselves to the back of your throat. A cold sweat of fear beaded on your brow. 

The bathroom door was open, the light on, and a shadow moved from the door frame. The figure almost too tall to be completely seen. The shape of it alone made you shiver. 

Two long strands of hair sticking up in an iconic V shape shadowed onto the hallway wall.

“All Might?” your voice quivered, graveled and raw. Foreboding dread balled into a tight knot threatening to suck you into dissociation, as if at any moment you would melt into the floor. Slowly wobbly legs moved, approaching just enough to allow a peak over in. 

“That is right! FOR I AM HERE!” Your son stood atop of the bathroom counter, his fist raised and a triumphant snaggle toothed smile stretched across red blushing cheeks. A bottle of hair gel spilled out on the counter and an old relic of the past wrapped around his shoulders. The overhead light casted a deceiving shadow. 

“I…” Trailing off a wide range of emotions spanning from solace to fear hinted disappointment flooded all at once. Eyes watered, yet never spilled over. The breath you held deflated.

“Don’t I look cool mom?! I look just like him! I look just like All Might!” He beamed. Turning back to the mirror to flex his small arms, striking another one of All Might's signature poses. “I can’t believe you have this! Is this really his?” His hands gripped at the fabric of the cape. The material swallowed him completely, flowing from his tiny shoulders to the floor. You had not seen it in years, not since the move. 

“You...” Swallowing the lump in your throat and blinking away unshed tears, you approached. Standing behind him, your heart pounded against your chest, ragged and unsteady beats. Struggling to find words, mouth opening and closing yet no sound escaped. Voice cutting out, crackling into a depressing croak. 

An everlasting symptom of that treacherous day reared its head once more. When overly emotional or speaking for too long strain on the scarred vocal cords caused them to lock up, trapping words within. Akeno’s brows furrowed, joy faltering.

“Momma?”  Seeing his shifting mood sour hands quickly adjusted, signing in boisterous movements

 ‘You look so totally awesome, Akeno!’ His eyes stared at the signs reflected in the mirror before going wide with exhilaration, smile returning brighter than before. In one swoop your arms wrapped around his tiny waist in a tight hug. The little boy giggled in delight. With what little strength you retained you held him off of the counter, flying him around the air. Despite the burn of strain inside your abdomen and the sting within your decaying forearm muscles; you could not help but laugh with him. 

After laying him to bed for the night you quickly checked under your bed for a certain set of boxes. Thankfully only one had been disturbed. Looking inside the now empty package you could still smell a faint hint of Toshinori’s cologne stained into the cardboard. 

You did not have the heart to throw nor give away his cape once realizing it had accidentally been packed in your hasty retreat. The tears you had wiped away earlier returned, unabashedly spilling as stifled nostalgic memories resurfaced. 

“Sorry I’m late dear. You know how it is.” Shuffled footsteps trudged through a darkened bedroom. Flipping over your met with the silhouetted figure of Toshinori, thinned fingers unclasping his cape before, In vain reaching for the zipper. Losing it in the folds of loose fabric. A small chuckle roused from your drowsy form.

“Here, let me get it.” Moving to the edge of your shared bed he turned, allowing you to unzip and undress the hefty costume from his thinning frame. Warm hands roamed the now exposed skin of his back, massaging the taught muscles beneath. Letting an exasperated groan his stiffened shoulder relaxed under nimble fingers.

“Thank you.” Humming in response digits curved upward, smoothing over protruding bones of his ribs, noting his subtle weight loss. Leaning forward to rest your forehead into the center of his back, the delectable scent of cologne still lingered on sweat slicked skin. If you had an ounce more of energy you’d fuss for him to shower, however as he turned to face you, and a hand delicately held your face within its palm all thoughts of reprimanding faded. His calloused thumb stroked at your cheek. 

“Let’s go to bed.” 

Together the two lovers laid within each other's arms.

‘ Maybe, 

maybe I should tell him that I’m- No. 

This… this was the only way. 

It was the right choice. For both of them.’ 

Yearning for something that could never be again you stuffed the thoughts away, curling into yourself alone atop frigid sheets the phrase repeating itself.

‘This was the right choice.’

Yet it offered no reassurance.

You lied once more when your son awoke. Telling him that the cape unfortunately was not actually one of All Might’s. Instead, it was a surprise birthday gift you had bought him from a local shop. That he could keep playing with it if he was good. A bit disappointed that it was not real, Akeno still loved it, promising to be on his best behavior. He even slept with it like a blanket. Never questioning the fact that his birthday was over four months away. 

Now nearing the age of fifteen Akeno had blossomed into such a handsome young man. Though, the older he became the more of him appeared. From the moment he was born with an almost translucent tuft of blonde hair you knew he would lean towards resembling his father. However, as he aged, face thinning over prominent cheekbones and jawline defining; he became the spitting image of Toshinori. A deep void of melancholy, yet also strangely a bit of pride surfaced at this realization.

As the years passed it was clear, he had chosen his path.

Just as his father and you had chosen, your child too dreamed of becoming a hero. 

It scared you. 

Terrified you even. 

You were not the first nor would you be the last to be ‘killed’ in action. He saw the scars. How your voice crackled into stained tones, disappearing into nothingness. The endless hours of futile rehabilitation therapy. The way your body thinned from lack of fully functioning organs. 

He saw the possible dangers, yet still dreamed of it.

And if this is what he truly wanted you would support him no matter what. 

‘It’s what good mothers do.’  

So, when on the verge of graduating middle school, and he came to you with a flyer from an all too familiar school you had to swallow your fear and agree to let him at least try. 

“I like this kid's style. Just like me when I was that age!” Present Mic gushed, watching as this year's group of contestants fought through the first wave of robotic opponents. Only five minutes into the entrance exam and already Akeno had hit the ground running. Screeching his way through metallic foes in hopes of scoring enough points, he had already landed himself on the leaderboard.

All Might watched from his swivel chair, remaining silent, focused on his own protege. His new coworkers banter lost on inattentive ears. 

“Looks like Mic’s got a favorite already.” Midnight laughed, her hands held up and over her head as she too watched. “He’s doing well so far, may even have a shot at passing. Though not sure any of us could handle two screaming blondes.” Now this snagged a bit of the symbol's attention. 

His eyes flitted away from Midoriya’s screen, glancing to the other. Watching with bated interest until a small spark of familiarity struck within him. 

‘Odd.’ He could not quite put his finger on it nor shake the sensation. ‘Have we met before? Perhaps on the train or maybe at a grocery store?’ No no, it was not that. If not that then where? What was it about this boy that stuck out to him?

Maybe it was the vibrant blond hair? It was not an uncommon thing, in fact some of the other contestants had wildly outlandish colored hair. Had he saved him before? Had he met him at a meet and greet?

He would have to ponder this another time. For now, his main concern was Midoriya’s lack of points. Retreating to refocus on his successor the test continued. 

In the end your son had placed fairly high on the exam, landing him a guaranteed spot at UA. The decision was final.

You are going back to Japan. 

“I’m not a child anymore mom.” 

“I know I know, you're a perfectly capable young man. But I'm not about to let you move across the world by yourself.” Finished packing the last of your boxes, now awaiting for the international movers to arrive. Akeno leaned against the doorframe. “Besides, you’ll be living in student housing, so you’ll have plenty of alone time.” Turning to the disgruntled boy and bringing a hand up, you ruffled the top of his head. “But remember, I’ll always be just a short drive away!”

He sighed in defeat, eyes turned away from your hopeful smile. It’s not that he did not want you there, but that he needed to be sure his boundaries were set. He needed space to grow.  

The entire flight you could not help but fidget with the hemline of your sleeved shirt. It’s been fifteen years since you’ve been back… 

Would people recognize you? 

You were in a different neighborhood, far away from your old house and even farther than the shared apartment. Yet Japan was only so big, hence the move in the first place, but surely after so long you would have nothing to worry about. Last time you were here you were in your mid twenties, now you are on the doorstep of fifty. With patches of gray, new wrinkles, more than a few scars, and gaunt thinning your appearance had become almost unrecognizable. But wha-

“Are you excited to be back?” Akeno had noticed your nervous movements, nothing lost to such attentive eyes. Taking out one of his headphones he turned to you. “I know it’s been a while.”

“Yes of course I am.” reaching a hand over, you placed it over his atop the armrest, squeezing the larger palm. 

“Care if I listen too?” You could hear the cello thump as the beginning of Madame Butterfly chimed through his headphones. He smiled back, even if he could sense the unwavering unease and the blatant fake smile, he said nothing, handing over the removed bud. 

The two of you hummed quietly to music until the moon overtook the sun. His head lolled down atop your shoulder as sleep overtook him.

No matter how old he got or how grown up he was he would always be your sweet boy. 

“There, this should last you the week.” Packing the last of the homemade bento boxes into the fridge you had made sure to wrap each one in your signature bunny eared bow. A significant downscale compared to your usual outlandishly adorable packaging. “I made your favorite.”

“You do know that they have a cafeteria, right?” Scoffing at Akeno’s remark and standing from bent within the refrigerator your eyes steeled.

“Oh, so you don’t like your mothers cooking anymore huh? Guess I’ll have to eat this all myself.” Reaching back, you began taking the packages out. 

“NO! Please! I was kidding! I love your cooking mom. Please leave it.” Panicked eyes widened and a bottom lip quivered in a desperate plea. A hardy laugh pushed through teasingly smirked lips. 

“I suppose I’ll let you keep it.”

“Thank you!” Your son's voice returned to its natural cheery tone. Though higher in pitch, alighted with excitement. “Mom there’s something I have to tell you” 

Your eyebrows rouse, quickly leave the small kitchenette to join him on the couch. His eyes locked onto yours, swimming with childlike admiration.

“All Might is going to be one of my teachers!” He beamed a wide toothy grin, almost a mirror of the aforementioned hero. You mentally felt yourself deflate like a popped balloon, exhaling as if all the wind had been knocked free. “ Isn’t that awesome?! ” He let out a boisterous laugh. 

The smile, the laugh, the hair and those big blue eyes. He truly was the spitting image of that man. You felt weak, hands wet and clammy, stomach turning with queasiness, heart thumping against your chest.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Snapping out of your daze you quickly put on a brave face once again, taking a deep breath and nodding. 

“Of course I am! I’m so happy for you ho-'' Your voice chipped and shattered, becoming a harsh croak. Moving to sign the remaining. ‘I am very happy for you! Tell the big man I said hi!’ His eyes tracked each symbol, smile never faltering, used to the use of sign language throughout the years he rejoiced at your admiration with a laugh. Joining him in his laughter, even though yours was nothing more than rushed air and out of nervousness. 

“I’m finally going to meet him!” 

Today was the day. Akeno's first day of school. Though you weren't there to see him off you made sure to send him a lengthy text of encouragement.

Mom: Have an amazing first day of school my baby! High school is a journey filled with excitement, challenges, and countless opportunities. Please remember no matter what happens I’ll always be here for you! Remember to be yourself and have fun! Send me pictures in uniform!

In response all he had sent back was a thumbs up.

All Might stood behind a corner of a building, watching the first year students endure Mr. Aizawa’s quirk assessment test. Again, fearing for young Midoriya, he knew the boy had little to know control of the quirk he had bestowed upon him. Yet he remained hopeful.

What he had not expected was to find himself staring at another boy from the class. 

It was the screeching kid that Mic and Midnight made comments about during the entrance exam that once again nagged at his curiosity.  He felt something indescribable when looking at the boy. The familiar feeling from before returned with a vengeance. Scrambling through hazed memories, he again tried to place the boy within the vast archive. 

“Akeno, it’s your turn.” Aizawa instructed the class to throw the ball as far as they could using their quirks. Simple enough, several other students had already gone, one even managed to score an infinite. Picking it up, Akeno wound his arm back and launched it. Quite average in all sense of the word, yet midair at its peak his mouth opened, and the sheer wind power behind his yell propelled the ball soaring through the air; Higher and higher until the sound waves could no longer carry it. 

‘Oh’…

A shiver ran cold down his wide muscular back. The pitch entered his ears yet sank like a rock in his stomach. 

‘Just like her.’

God Damit he could not do this right now. 

These ridiculous thoughts brought him nothing but heartache and were quickly shoved into the overflowing filing cabinets inside his mind. Hopefully lost within the jumbled mess forever. It had taken the better half of three years to finally put a lid on the pandora's box that once was you. To backslide now was out of the question. 

Rationalize.

Quickly erasing the correlation from his mind with the same cold hard truth he had to continually tell himself anytime a memory of you resurfaced; You were dead . 

‘Vocal quirks are not a rare occurrence. This boy was not you. In fact, he looks more like…OH! Stop it Toshinori’ He mentally slapped himself. ‘Focus.’

It was Izuku’s turn to throw the ball. A perfect distraction and an opportunity for his ludicrous mind to get a grip. 

Amazed by his pupils' success, the threat of his psyche collapsing was stabilized.

Lunch time had finally arrived, overworked and exhausted from their first half of the day each kid flooded the bustling halls. The first week finally reaching its midpoint.

“Can I sit with you guys?” Akeno stood before the trio, bento box in hand, admittedly he was a bit bashful at the thought of his classmates seeing the cutesy bow tied cloth covering yet his need for socializing trumped all. 

“Yeah, for sure!”

“Absolutely!” Midoriya and Ururaka ever the kind and social souls smiled, scooting over to allow him to sit. Iida smiled and greeted his classmate from across the table. 

The group made small talk, the main three discussing the woes of upcoming exams and the prompts of Mr. Present Mics writing assignments. Proclaiming that it was far too early to be assigning such tasks. Being the kind soul Akeno had grown into, he offered his assistance with the English class. Seeing as he was exempt from taking it due to already being fluent. 

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot that you are an exchange student, your Japanese is almost perfect!” Uraraka proclaimed, eyes gleaming with curiosity. 

“Yeah! For only living here for less than a month, your Japanese is amazing. I can barely even hear an ascent!” Izuku added, praising his friend. Questions of the states filled his mind. His mentor had made his debut in America, based all of his costumes and merchandise around their flag and even named all of his moves after its states. He too dreamed of one day traveling and experiencing its wonders. Storing his curiosity, he made a mental note to ask later.

“Well, my mom is originally from Japan. She’s been teaching me Japanese since I first started talking. It’s like second nature.” Akeno chuckled, a shy hand brushing down the spiky blond tips on his neck. Refocused on the topic of travel the group buzzed with excitement. 

However as soon as Akeno unwrapped the ribbon and unboxed his bento the conversation steered in a much different direction. A mouth watering scent filled the surrounding area.

“That's so cute! Did you make it yourself? It smells so good! How did you get the fruit into such perfect stars?” Uraraka gushed at the culinary work of art that was her new friend's lunch. Even the grandeur that was offered via the cafeteria paled in comparison, nothing could beat a mother's love.

Again, you had toned down the cuteness of his lunches considerably since he was a child. However, that did not stop you from arranging it with as much passion as you could. It was simple, yet had protein, light carbs, healthy sugars and lots of veggies! 

Akeno felt his cheeks redden. Not that he was ashamed, he was grateful to have a mother so caring however he’s a grown man now! And grown men don’t need bows or ribbons or star shaped fruit.

“My mom made it for me.” He mumbled, shying away from their surely scrutinizing gaze, they’ll think he's a sniffling little ‘mommas' boy.’

“Truly moving to see such a loving display!” Iida’s chest swelled with pride for his fellow classmate. 

“Maybe your mom could make me one of those!” Uraraka laughed along with Midoriya

“She’s right, it does look amazing!” He agreed. Shocked, Akeno took note of his new friend's approval. He may have to ask a favor of you later. 

 Akeno loved each day of class, he thrived and excelled. His passion growing stronger yet. With the announcement of the UA sports festival on the horizon he readied himself to go beyond, ‘ plus ultra ’ as his idle, now teacher, would say. As the bell rang and Mr. Aizawa dismissed the class, he gathered his belongings and waited for his friend.

Himself, Iida, Uraraka, and Izuku had grown quite close. Always sticking together when it came to field exercises, study sessions and relaxing at lunch. Your son always came home boasting about how amazing each and every one of his friends were. It brought your motherly heart such joy to see him thriving. 

As the halls emptied due to the final bell chiming the group chatted in a more serious tone. Uraraka had confessed that she wanted to be a hero for profit. Initially seeming slightly selfish, as she delved deeper into the reasoning the notion was rectified. Quickly reassuring her that she was noble for wanting to help her family, the group divulged their own causes. 

“What about you Akeno, why do you want to be a hero?” Midoriya asked, curious as ever.

“My mom was almost killed by a villain; she was a hero too. I don’t remember much since I was just a little kid, but I know the pain she went through. The years of suffering she had to endure. It’s my life mission to never allow something like that to happen to anyone else!” The young man wore a face of pure determination, his chest swelled with righteousness and a smile stretched across his face. 

“That’s an amazing reason Akeno!” Uraraka beamed, her cheeks swelled with pink, and eyes shined with admiration.

“Truly an exceptional motive, you have my commendation!” Iida bowed, truly inspired. Proud to be the class representative of such a dedicated and selfless individual. Izuku simply stared as the blond laughed and kicked out a thumbs up. Green eyes widening at the action. 

“When you do that face you kind of look like All Might!” Uraraka chuckled, taking the words straight from Izuku’s imagination. Inside her mind images of the two blondes striking various poses together managed to tint her cheeks darker. ‘So cute!’

“She’s right! Could’ve fooled me” Midoriya laughed, though a hint of nervousness laced the chuckle. The more he looked at his friend the more he could see his mentor in him. A flitting image sparked in his mind, though was overshadowed. ‘Strange.’

Akeno simply laughed with them, happy to be compared to his idol.

“Today we will be practicing search and rescue to prepare you for your visit to the USJ simulation. Just the basics as we’ve discussed over the week.” The under enthused tone of Mr. Aizawa droned to the antsy group of young heroes before him. Laid out before them was a near perfect replica of Jaku City. However, the once proud standing skyscraper lay in disarray. Debris and rubble littered the streets. “Scattered around the city you will find several victims; your goal is to safely remove them from the situation without traumatizing them.” shooting a glare toward his most bain student the simulation commenced.

Racing into the disaster the trainees began implementing their teachings. All without a hitch until a young boy was discovered. Screaming and flailing away from any physical contact he laid inconsolable.

“Hey little guy, it's okay. Everything will be fine, com-” As Deku attempted to approach he again cried out slinking away as a gloved hand reached for him.

“I don’t know what's wrong, he won't respond to anything we say.” Confused and afraid of failing, Momo began to panic. Running to the group, Akeno assessed the situation. 

While inspecting the child from a distance his eyes landed on his hands. Small nubbed pointer fingers extended and repeatedly jabbed together. Recognition flashed through his mind. Crouching before the boy, making no attempt to touch him, he waved. Red puffy eyes looked at him and again fingers jabbed together. Akeno’s gloved hand raised, his pointer finger zig zagged in the air and replicated the child’s jabbing motion, ‘where does it hurt?’ Recognizing the signs the boy pointed to his leg. With one palm flat and the other in a thumbs up position atop it Akeno moved it towards the child, ‘let me help you.’ Sucking up his sniffles the child nodded,  arms extended out, allowing the hero to pick him up. 

His fellow classmates watched in confused awe.

“What was that?” Ururaka inquired as the bell chimed, signaling the end of the simulation.

“He was signing ‘pain’. I just asked him where he was hurt and that I wanted to help him.” 

“You know sign language too?” 

“Ha yeah, another thing my mom taught me.” 

The young man had a surprise for his friends. 

You had agreed to make them lunch! How could you resist such an offer?

‘It's what a good mom would do.’  

Though it came at a cost. Defiantly holding the bundle of boxes above your head your face held determination.

“If you want it, make me give it to you.”

“Mom! You know I'm not good at this”

“Only way you're going to get better is if you practice, ya know it took me years to perfect it!” You countered, if he had inherited your quirk, it was almost for certain he too could use ‘the command’. Just had to concentrate. Besides, if he truly did not want to try, he towered over you, making it easy to simply take it. 

Staring at the bag he focused, breathing in deeply his first attempt a near whisper. 

“Did you even activate your quirk? Try again.” 

“ Hand me the bag .” Loud sound waves nearly had you dropping it, not out of command but from sheer force pummeling your ear canal as he screamed it.

“Nuh uh, that's cheating. Look at me, focus. Take in the surroundings, feel the air move through your vocal cords, find the right pitch and push the sound into my ears. Again.”

“ Hand me th e bag” Fog overtook your vision for a few seconds, regaining full consciousness you saw both hands extended towards him. Yet the bag still remained firmly in your grip. 

“Close enough! Good job Akeno” Dropping the package into expecting hands the boy scurried off. One day he’d master the ability, just needed time and practice.

As the lunch bell rang Akeno called out to the trio, having the group gather around his desk. Reaching into his backpack he pulled out the treasure.

“NO WAY!” Uraraka held her own personalized bento box in hand, your son had mentioned her favor of pink, and you couldn’t help but run with it. An adorable checkered pink fabric covered the box with an elegantly tied bow. 

“Thank you so much, please tell your mom I said thank you!” Midoriya’s was of course wrapped in green. 

“From me as well!” Iida’s was a beautiful shade of blue.

As the group happily strolled to the cafeteria a looming figure waited before pouncing out from behind a corner. 

“Young Midoriya! Would you like to have lunch with me?”

“Uh well, thank you All Might but I-” A firm punch to his arm cut the nervous boy off. Akeno stared at his friend, an eyebrow raised and eyes wide.

“You cannot pass up an opportunity to have lunch with All Might!” He forcefully whispered.

“But your mom-”

“Don’t worry about it!” Sighing in dejection he agreed before rushing to his mentor's side and waving goodbye to his friends. He’d have to properly apologize for missing such a special lunch afterwards.

Sitting across from his pupil All Might skeptically eyed the elegantly tied box. As Midoriya began unwrapping it Toshinori felt a deep pang of nostalgia. From the layout to the smell, even to the encouraging message on the sticky note it felt all too familiar. 

“Hey! You forgot your lunch, so I thought I’d swing by to drop it off.” Standing in the doorway of your once shared office with a wrapped box of bento you stared over the mountainous stacks of paper to your beloved blond. “I was wondering if you’d like to share it with me?”

Darkened hues glanced up from their sheet, only for a few seconds before returning to his work.

“Thank you, but I’m a little busy right now.”  Not yet defeated, you approached the desk.

“I could help you out if you want, I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine. Besides I think Mei is all caught up with your work, no need to stay here all day.” Mei, a name you had come to regard with disdain. The woman he had hired to help ‘ease your workload’ brought a bitter taste to your tongue. 

“I could wait until you’re done.”

“I won’t be done for a while, please go back home love. I’ll be back later tonight.” 

With lips drawn tight and eyes swimming with animosity you exited, not another word shared.

An agonizing growl of hunger hours later finally forced himself away from the still looming stack. Opening the box and bristling in delight at its aroma he scarfed down as much as his decayed stomach could hold. Placing the lid back atop the container his heart ached at seeing the message scribed sticky note attached.

‘Don’t work too hard! I love you! ’ 

Truth be told Toshinori did not want you to leave, longing for nothing more than to enjoy the meal together. Yet the ever surging rate of crime due to his limited time left him breakless, charging full steam ahead into his work. Darring a glance to his computer's clock, more time than he had anticipated flew by, 11:42pm.

‘I’ll make it up to her.’

He never was able to.

“Where did you get that?” His voice low and graveled, baritone edging into a bass. Shadows darkening overhead, concealing steeled blue.

 He knew it was foolish to relish in such nostalgia however, if he must be plagued, he was at least grateful it is of happier times.

“Oh, Akeno’s mom made it for me. She made all of us lunch!”

‘Akeno’s mom?’ The older man pondered. ‘ Who is she? What does Midoriya know about this woman? What is her name? W- STOP. This is pathetic. It’s just a bento box. Anyone can cook katsu.’ Clearing his throat he nodded.

“That was nice of her.” 

Folding a freshly dried pile of clothes you sat within your living room, absentmindedly listening to the local news reporter drone on about the most recent activity within the city. However, the flash and sudden switch to a different reporter piqued your interest. Placing the shirt down and adjusting the volume, pure horror sparked as realization of the man’s words took hold.

“Breaking News: There is said to be an active villain attack at UA’s training facility the U.S.J, Class 1-A students are trapped inside!” 

Teleported via warp gate Akeno found himself plummeting into the ocean biome. With only a brief second to grasp the situation he inhaled and braced for impact before diving into the treacherous waters. 

The sting of salt blurred his vision yet through the blur he managed to catch the movement of a finned fist, miraculously dodging he struggled to notate his surroundings. Spotting a green blob floating just below, he hoped his assumptions were correct on who it was. Propelled by sound waves he pushes the foe away and himself closer to his classmate. Grabbing ahold of him Akeno releases another shriek thrusting them further away from the swarming thugs.

 He cannot keep this up. 

Lack of oxygen was beginning to take hold; dots spotted his vision. Despite the burn within his chest, he pushed himself to go further. Finally reaching something solid and using the last gusts of air within his lungs he again propelled them. Rushing upward, they broke the water's surface.

Crashing down onto the hardwood deck Akeno hacked, choking on air, desperate to soothe the burn deep within his chest. However, the gurgle of trapped water prevented any mediation. Even with air all around him, It felt as though he was drowning. His chest felt encumbered. Panicked Midoriya gripped his shoulders and turned his friend onto his side. Rubbing and pounding at his back, finally liquid sputtered out with each cough. 

“Is he okay?” Tsuyu emerged from the water, leaping onto the ship, tongue wrapped around a squirming Mineta. 

“We need to get out of here, he needs a doctor.” Listening to his friends' short shallow breaths sent Izuku’s mind ablaze. Though he had successfully forced most of the water out, residual liquid still crackled within. 

Scared for not only his but also his friends' lives, they needed a plan.

“The pros will save us! Right? They’ll come and beat these guys up and we’ll all be safe.” Mineta panicked, the weight of the situation finally dawning on the perverse trainee. Conversing over exactly what had been said during the initial attack coupled with the situation, Tsu and Deku both knew waiting for the pro’s was not an option.

“We have to stop whatever these bad guys are planning!” 

Realizing the flaw in the villain's thwarted plan Midoriya formulated a course of action. Wrapped within Tsu’s tongue and flung through the air via the force of Midoriya’s flick, the group managed to fool and evade the attackers. 

Following the shore to avoid the peering eyes of foes swimming closer to the main plaza the exit was within sight. Akeno’s body trembled within his classmate's grasp, struggling to stand, and barely holding onto consciousness. Mr. Aizawa’s battle raged on, their teachers' struggle growing louder as the group approached. 

How much longer would he hold out? 

A sickening crunch echoed as a monstrous beast's fists crashed down onto their teacher's defeated body, his arms twisting into splintered fractures. Fear spiraled down their spines as the young students could do nothing but observe. 

“I can't watch this anymore.” Tears streamed down Mineta’s face as he clutched both hands over his mouth, trying not to puke at the gruesome sight. “We should be getting out of here super fast shouldn’t we?”

Horrified Midoriya glanced from his beaten teacher to his half conscious friend. The once confident persona adopted for escaping the ship now shattered. Internal conflict had him paralyzed. 

‘To be a hero you have to put others above yourself.’  

The mantra repeated itself over and over within his head. Though, what was he to do now? Two people needed him: Akeno and Mr. Aizawa. They were both in life threatening condition.

Yet… he could not bring himself to choose which one to try to save. 

“Oh, before we leave. Let's make sure the symbol of peace is broken.” In an instant the main villain lunged, barreling straight towards their group. “Let's make this hurt! You look too much like him, disgusting. Don’t worry I can fix that.” With a palm extended he advanced, mere centimeters away from Akeno’s face. The group's breaths stalled within their chest, unable to move...

Yet, he stopped, halting dead in his tracks. 

His once hate filled eyes glossed over, the red hue now dull and empty.

Mouth agape in shock Midoriya looked to the boy that clung to him.

Akeno’s head was up, his eyes staring towards the villain, mouth moving yet the words inaudible. 

“Leave us alone.”

Hushed whispers rushed through the air, directly to their target. Forced in and demanding obedience the command took hold. 

Backing away the villain retreated, up the stairs in a disconnected stupor until reuniting with the warp gate. 

“What the hell was that!” As Shigaraki’s senses returned, anger boiled within his voice, eyes wide and fingers digging into the skin of his throat. Nails raked over the bloodied irritated skin. “No, no,no,n-”  The slam of once sealed doors drew his attention away. 

The man they had been waiting for finally arrived. 

“Have no fear students. Why? Because I Am Here.”

Faster than the puny thugs could process, All Might swung into action. At last, the young heroes' fears came to rest as they watched the world symbol of peace dispatch of each and every evil doer within his path. Crossing the battle field within seconds he swiftly scooped a beaten Aizawa within his arms and grabbed the group of frightened children. The jarring motion of being flung around sent Akeno into a fit of hacking. His body heaved against the muscular arm, blood splattering against the white button up. 

Seeing his colleague and student so injured fueled Toshinori’s already raging inferno. Gritted into a tight frown, his teeth ground together. 

  ‘I should have been here; I should have protected them.’

“Everybody back to the entrance, take Aizawa and Akeno with you. They don’t have much time.” Again, plagued by indecision Izuku again looked between the injured men then back to his mentor. His intuition screamed for him to stay and help All Might, to fight by his side. Based on what Thirteen had indicated before training All Might must be near his limit, leaving him vulnerable. Yet his heart yearned to get them to safety. 

Once again, the decision was left in his hands, who does he try to save? Taking notice of his prodigy's indecision, All Might addressed him.

“Young Midoriya! I got this!” 

“Right.” At his master's words, Izuku tightened his grip around his classmate while Tsu held Mr. Aizawa, they ran away. Not fully assured the nagging thought of being the soul bearer of All Might’s limit and the danger truly at hand made up his mind. Seeing other classmates racing down to the exit he laid Akeno down.

“Tsu and Mineta, take Mr. Aizawa and Akeno to the entrance, I have to go back.”

“What? Are you crazy? We can't hold both of them! Besides All Might has this handled, we have to go!” Before the grape themed trainees' words even registered, Deku ran past them and back to the ensuing fight. 

The battle with the monstrous ‘Nomu’ had the man exhausted. Barely clinging onto his mighty form, All Might’s body trembled in exhaustion. All he had to do was stall and keep up the mirage.

Shots firing and the overly jovial voice of principal Nezu signaled his relief had finally arrived.

“I'm sorry ma’am but I can't let you in. The school is under strict lockdown procedures!” The police standing guard in front of the gates had attempted several times to reassure the grief stricken woman into leaving. Yet you refused. 

‘You have to! My son was in the attack! He could be hurt.’ hands quickly signed, yet they could not understand nor make an attempt to. Growing agitated they ordered you to back away. Even when attempting to mouth words of reason their resolve stood firm. 

The crackle of a speaker and flicker of a screen caught their attention. A small mouse-like creature's face lit the device. Principal Nezu’s beady eyes and smile stared down to them. His paws placed one over the other, a steaming cup of tea sat atop his desk. Analyzing the situation with a sip of his beverage, he addressed them.

“You must be Akeno’s mother. Please come in.” Metal unlocked and the screech of a singular entrance opening rattled through the once impenetrable wall of steel, an elderly woman stood within its threshold. Her wrinkled features offered a warm smile, as she ushered you in. Despite her cheery attitude the cloud of despair that formulated upon hearing the news refused to dissipate.

You needed to see him, to know that he was okay. 

“Right this way dear,” Leading you down the winding corridors, her syringe shaped cane clacked against the tiled floor. Its steady rhythm a direct contrast to the thunderous beat of your heart. Stopping just outside a door labeled as the infirmary your anxiety overflowed. Eyes watered as tears gathered on the rims and a few slipping by. 

Gesturing for you to wait she sighed, “I healed him as much as I could, but the boy needs rest. He almost drowned today.” Wiping away the tears you nodded, attempting a brave face yet your mind swam with regrets. 

‘He almost drowned? Almost died?! … We've been here less than two months and already he's had a brush with death. Was allowing him to come here truly for the best? What kind of mother am I for willingly putting him in danger? I knew the risks. How could I allow this? How could I…’

“Come.” 

Half of the room had been sectioned off by drawn curtains, blocking the other patients from view. Light whispers shared between the two males fell silent once you had entered. 

Upon seeing Akeno false bravery slid away and tears fell once more. 

Rimmed with darkness his eyes remained closed with heavy breaths as he slept within the white sheeted hospital bed. 

‘My baby’

Toshinori and Izuku laid beyond the thin curtain wall, both watching as the silhouetted woman stood before her son. 

A shadowed hand reached for the boy, tenderly stroking his cheek before her head bowed to rest against his. Rushed breaths and sniffles indicated her distress as she wept.

An endless pit of anguish at both the situation and himself opened within the older man's heart. Sighing he looked away from the scene, up towards the white ceiling, and an unbandaged arm fell over his eyes. Afflicted by guilt any curiosity regarding the young man's mother vanquished, weighed down with the burden of responsibility.

“I should have been there sooner.” His voice barely above a breathed whisper, more so a taunt to himself. Yet within the otherwise silent room it carried through. 

Your sobs stalled for a mere millisecond as recognition sparked fear into your aching heart. 

You could recognize Toshinori’s voice anywhere.

‘Not here. Please not here. He can't be here. Not now.’ 

Trying to muffle the ragged sobs your body struggled to stand. Hunched and breaking you held your son's hand, squeezing it tightly to stay grounded. Heartaching for both the man beyond the curtain and your beloved child, your mind felt hazy, far too many emotions swarmed within.

“Ma’am?” An unfamiliar voice called out to you. 

Peeking his head out from behind the curtain walls, Izuku had forgone Recovery Girl’s orders. Saddened and riddled with his own guilt he felt compelled to speak to the grieving woman. Your back remained turned towards him, yet your head lifted slightly in acknowledgment. “Akeno saved my life. He protected me and our classmates. You should be proud of him.”

‘Proud that my son almost got himself killed? Proud that I allowed him into this lethal field? Proud that my son… saved people?’

For a split second your head turned, facing the boy. ‘Akeno risked his life to save him?’ A bittersweet smile splayed across quivering lips. Izuku’s eyes widened, recollection though brief flashed within his mind. 

You looked familiar… 

Mouthing the words ‘Thank you.’ you turned back. 

“I thought I said rest!” Recovery Girl had returned. Infuriated to see her patient in direct violation of her orders, her cane raised ready to wallop. Slinging the curtain back into place Izuku rushed back into his bed, though his mind swirled in confusion at what he had seen, or at least what he thought he saw. Recalling his stockpile of memories in an attempt to place exactly where he recognized that woman from, However, the after effects of Recovery Girl's quirk had his eyelids heavy. Dropping down, mind clouded and unclear sleep took hold before he could reminisce further.

Sitting beside your son's bed you awaited his awakening despite the ever looming presence of a man you had vowed to forsaken mere feet away. Azure eyes opened, hazed and confused they glanced around the unfamiliar room before locking onto you. His mouth opened yet only strained groans escaped. Blond brows furrowed as he continued to struggle, croaking crackled words. Quickly raising your hand you signed; 

‘Don’t speak, you’re hurt.’ Nodding his own hands rose from under the sheets.

‘Did we win?’ A silent airy laugh escaped your lips, tears long since dried out. Rubbing his forearm with a soothing hand you comforted him with a nod. 

Though the lighthearted mood soon turned stern.

‘You almost died, Akeno.’ Eyes downdrawn he stared at the white bedding. Hands fidgeting for a few moments, desperately trying to find the right words, until they steadied. Blond brows furrowed and lips drew into a tight line. 

‘I did what I had to. To protect my friends.’ Sighing, you bent down, kissing the top of his forehead and ruffling a hand through his wild blond locks. Wrapping his arms around his mother the two embraced. 

‘I know and I’m proud of you.’

[dymitre]

Damn I want to have a date with him 😪

[ofthemorningstars]

The Dreams Lives Are Made Of

TerzOmega ~ Domestic Family Fluff ~ Resurrection AU ~ All Ages 1.2k Words Ao3 Version Terzo and Omega are finally living their dream life together as a family. But sometimes good dreams aren't always enough to fend off nightmares. (I finally let Terzo and Omega have the family they always wanted! Featuring original ghoul child characters) Thank you to @puuuders to workshopping the title with me!

---

Terzo was crouched behind the sofa when Omega spotted him. 

They made eye contact from across the room, and Terzo brought a finger up to his lips, signaling to Omega to be quiet. He was hiding. Omega smiled knowingly, creeping back into the kitchen, trying to look inconspicuous.

Suddenly a tiny ghoul jumped out from around the corner of the sofa, claws raised and fangs bared in a snarling growl. Terzo yelped, letting out an exaggerated scream and covering his face, cowering against the sofa back. 

“Please don’t hurt me, miss scary monster!” Terzo pretended to sob into his hands. The ghoul’s demeanor immediately changed, concern and remorse evident on her face. Terzo watched through his fingers as she approached. He made a show of flinching at her touch as she reached out and put a hand on his head, patting it.

“It’s ok Papa, it’s just me,” she assured him, petting his hair. Terzo continued to wail dramatically. “Papa, please don’t cry, I’m sorry for scaring you!” She closed the remaining distance between them, going in to hug him. Terzo took the opportunity to strike, tickling his daughter mercilessly as she squealed with delight, trying to squirm out of his grasp. He attacked her face and hair with quick little kisses. When she finally asked him to stop in between giggles, he did so immediately, joining her where she’d ended up on the floor and pulling her into a hug. “Papa, you tricked me,” she said accusatorially after she'd caught her breath, now pouting. “Ah, that is only because you fall for it every time, my darling,” Terzo replied, grinning from ear to ear before placing a kiss to the tip of her nose, a nose that looked so much like his. He never cared much for his nose, until he saw it on her. As he studied her face, he saw his own white eye gazing back at him, complemented by its counterpart’s dazzling shade of violet, a shade that she inherited from Omega. Her dusky grey complexion was flushed from laughter. She was absolutely beautiful. She was his everything. Evidently he had been looking for too long, because the little girl in question decided to poke him squarely in the chest in irritation. “Papa, quit staring at me!” She stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at him. He was just about to retaliate, reaching to start up another round of tickles, before Omega called to them that it was time for dinner. Starlight scrambled to her feet, sprinting to the kitchen as quickly as her little legs would carry her. Terzo pulled himself up, using the sofa for support. His knees really weren’t what they used to be. Terzo staggered into the kitchen, still recovering from being on the floor for so long. His heart warmed as he took a moment to appreciate the sight of his little family. Starlight was already situated in her booster seat, still small enough that she was unable to see over the table without it. Astrid was fussing in her high chair, making faces at her food as Omega patiently tried to get her to eat, cooing at her. A plate was waiting for him, too, at his usual spot next to Omega. He kissed his husband on the cheek and sat down. 

The rest of their evening proceeded as usual, Omega giving the girls a bath while Terzo washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

Storytime was interrupted by a particularly cranky Astrid, so Terzo and Starlight had to finish up her favorite book, “Guess How Much I Love You”, by themselves. Terzo made sure to tell Starlight just how much indeed he and Omega loved her and her sister before bidding her sweet dreams with a kiss on the forehead, as usual. 

When Terzo had settled into bed beside his husband, it was with the knowledge that everyone he loved was safe and happy and within arms reach. 

Such knowledge, however, isn't always enough. 

Late that night, Terzo woke up like he often did since returning to the realm of the living: soaked in sweat and crying in Omega’s arms. Being dead had been about as traumatic for him as one would expect. Even after all these years, he still struggled the most at night. Both of them did. Omega wasn’t exempt from nightmares of his time without Terzo, but he was always there to comfort his husband during his night terrors. 

Ever since his resurrection, waking up screaming had been a regular part of Terzo’s life. It didn’t happen every night, but enough that it had always been a part of the routine of their young family, and they did their best to live their lives around it. To try and mitigate the noise, they slept with their door shut. Now that Starlight considered herself to be a big girl, at the tender age of three, she had courageously offered to sleep with her door shut, too.

Tonight, though, was particularly bad. Terzo’s heart sank as he heard the pitter-patter of feet racing down the hall. “Oh no,” Terzo groaned into his hands, covering his face and kicking himself mentally. “I woke Starlight up again.” 

Their door flew open, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Terzo glanced over at the bassinet by their bed. Thankfully all of the night’s racket hadn't disturbed baby Astrid, who was still sleeping soundly, a peaceful look on her cherubic face. 

“Papa, Papa! Are you ok?” Starlight climbed onto their bed, and before he could process what was happening, Terzo felt two little hands on either side of his face, smooshing his cheeks slightly as tiny claws dug in. He looked up into her big, mismatched eyes, brimming with unshed tears. She was trying to be brave for him.

“Sì, la mia piccola stella. Papa is ok. He just had a bad dream,” Terzo said with a weak, watery smile. Gently he pried her hands away from his face, kissing the back of one gratefully. Terzo tried his best to hide the quiver of his lip, pulling her into a tight embrace. Omega joined in, pulling Terzo closer and wrapping his other arm around their daughter. Silently he placed a kiss on the crown of each of their heads. 

“But it sounded like you were hurt, Papa,” Starlight sniffled against Terzo’s shirt. He felt a soft tendril of his daughter's quintessence brush against his mind, trying to soothe him. His heart melted. Terzo thought for a moment about how best to respond. They tried, as a rule, not to lie to their children. “I am alright, gioia mia. Papa… was hurt, a long time ago, and sometimes he still has bad dreams about it.” His hands itched to touch the burning scars around his neck as he spoke, but he decided to run them through Starlight’s soft white hair instead. “But they’re just dreams.” The last part was said as a reminder to both of them as he rocked her gently from side to side. 

“Can I sleep in here with you and Daddy and Astrid?” The request was quite unlike her, ever the independent child that she was. Terzo took it seriously.

“Sì, my darling. Sì.”  Starlight insisted on giving everyone another kiss on the forehead before settling down, including her little sister. Terzo bit his tongue against his worries of her waking the sleeping infant, instead appreciating the sweetness of the gesture. The three of them snuggled together, Starlight holding tightly to one of each of their hands.

For the rest of the night, there were no more bad dreams. Terzo fell back asleep to thoughts of just how lucky he truly was.

[pfirsichspritzer]

Locklyle babies sketches (coloured)

(Can be seen as illustrations to my fic These two pink lines)

Or just for everyone who, like me, has Locklyle babies brainrot, especially @womaninwinter & @dangerously-human, who seemed to enjoy the previous sketches)

[bookishbrigitta]

BookishBrigitta's domestic Lasat OCs! Here they are on school picture day. Many thanks, @lasat-picrew!

Meet Klavdia Orrelios! This little cutie first appears in my fic Brave Girl, though she is younger in the fic than in the picture.

Klavdia is the spunky, smart kit that Zeb and Alexsandr adopt sometime after Rebels ends. She loves snuggling, exploring, and generally causing headaches for her dads. She also has ectrodactyly and only a thumb and 1 finger on her right hand.

While Klavdia is close to both her parents and, obviously, goes to Zeb for lots of the Lasat stuff, she has a special connection to Alexsandr because of her hand. He has a particular understanding for how it feels to be "different" due to his own problems with his leg and also having different needs as a human. It's not always easy to navigate her physical differences, but with plenty of love and support from her family, she grows every day into a confident, competent young woman.

Meet Klavdia's yet-unnamed baby brother! He has yet to appear in a fic, but I have plans for him.

Baby Boy is Zeb and Alexsandr's biological child (Steve Blum was right when he said Zeb was probably pregnant). I tried to give them what differences I could within what the program supports, though there is a lot of similarity simply because they're both purple. I modeled Baby Boy's face swoops (stripes?) and upright ears after Zeb. He deliberately has a different hair texture from his sister.

I imagine his eyes as a little closer to brown than they appear in the photo, so that they look more like Alexsandr's. He's also short for a Lasat (especially compared to his sister) since he is half-human and Zeb is (according to some sources) of middling-to-shorter height for a Lasat. Finally, being half-human, he has 5 fingers on each hand but only 4 toes on each foot.

[tumbling-through-deepspace]

The Hunter, a baby and the unexpected forming of family in unlikely places

Summary:

Hunter Lyssa Williams finds a baby abandoned outside her apartment complex. The 24-year-old is way over her head and does not know the first thing about looking after a tiny human. However, as the saying goes, 'it takes a village to raise a child' and in her case a group of unlikely men come along for the ride.

Genres: Slice of life, comfort, eventual relationships, eventual romance, enemies to friends, frenemies, fluff...

Word count: 2772 words

Eventual Relationships: Xavier/MC/Rafayel

Zayne/Sylus/Lyssa

Chapter One: The Introduction to It All

It was one of the worst days of her life. Work was hell having to battle high level wanderers—just thinking about it made the cut on her arm burn. Then Tara and her bestie could not shut up about their last shipping escapade.

Their captain was in one of her moods as well, despite the woman trying to mask it well, Lyssa always had a way of picking up the slightest twinge of facial muscle and body language that speaks otherwise. Then finally her motorcycle refused to work, keeping her stranded in Linkon city.

“This day couldn’t get any worse than what it already is.”

Like a preferable middle finger sent her way from the Deep space tunnel, the sky opened sending a heavy shower of rain. The biggest fuck you were shouted to the sky as she stormed off, ignoring the shell-shocked looks from a few co-workers that exited the building at that moment.

Lyssa disliked the busy city life and only ventured in it due to working for the Hunter’s Association and its necessities that she couldn’t get from her home that was located on the outskirts of the city before it crossed over to the N109 zone.

The scowl on her face deepened knowing that her only option now was having to use the apartment she had on standby for emergencies.

Cursing profanities under her breath she continued along, too angry to care about the rain soaking her clothes and temporarily obstructing her vision.

Within fifteen minutes the doors of the apartment building came into view, and she hurried along, shaking the water from her hair as she finally took shelter. Lyssa sighed, leaning against the wall and willed herself to start her deep breathing exercises recommended by her therapist whenever she felt overwhelmed.

It took a while, but she came back to herself as her breathing regulated. The hunter slowly made her way to the door when her hearing picked up on soft whimpers and the rustling of fabric.

Years of training sharpened her senses, and her eyes zoned onto a few boxes that were left out. At first, she thought maybe it was a trick of her ears until the whimpering became a little louder. Moving forward she squatted and inspected the boxes.

Stuffed to the back of the wall was a box of medium size, slightly opened. Lyssa was expecting a puppy or maybe a kitten, the shock of finding a baby blew her mind out of the water.

Like who the hell leaves a baby in a fucking box, outside a building were anyone could either steal it, kick it or heavens forbid, the garbage disposal unit fetches it away unknown to anyone. There were orphanages for crying out loud, child protective services… just why? Why?

Wasting no time, she scooped up the box, punched in the building’s security code and raced to get to her apartment. The child needed to get warm and fed. Oh God! How long were they in the dam box?

The whimpering stopped and Lyssa panicked, peeping inside to make sure the child was still breathing. She let out a relieved sigh at the steady rise and fall of the child's chest. Only a few minutes ago she was angry at being stranded in the city and now was appreciative of the inconvenience.

She refused to let her mind think of what if. As the hunter entered her apartment, she knew making decisions on what next raised her anxiety, and so she needed a second opinion. It was time to call an old acquaintance.

“The number you’ve dialed in currently unavailable. Hang up and try again or leave a message after the beep.”

This was the third day in a row they were unsuccessful in getting on to Lyssa. Dr. Zayne looked at his phone as the call disconnected once again. A week ago, his colleague Dr. Waverly came to him in concern that one of his patient Lyssa Williams missed a very important appointment which was unusual for the young woman to do; there was no call, no correspondence.

Why the doctor told him this left him a bit puzzled. Zayne and Lyssa—even though they have been acquainted with each other for a few years—rarely spoke to each other and sometimes on visiting the hospital she would exchange pleasantries and nothing more.

Dr. Waverly stated that Lyssa did not have a next of kin or emergency contact listed on her record, making it difficult to make any contact. Even her place of employment hasn’t seen the young woman for the same duration and being unable to make contact. Dr. Waverly came to him with hope that might find a way to contact the woman.

The light rapping on his door brought the doctor from his thoughts. Looking up his gaze met his friend and patient Jasmin.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I can always come back.”

Zayne cleared his throat “No. That won’t be necessary, you are scheduled for a checkup, and it would be counterproductive if you rescheduled.”

Jasmin entered the room taking a seat. She was about to speak again when her eyes landed on the file on Zayne’s table, recognizing her co-worker’s face even though it was upside down.

“Have you gotten on to her?”

Zayne took a moment to understand who Jasmin was referring to. He looked at the file once more before closing it.

“I take it no one has been successful on your end?”

“No and it is concerning. Lyssa is not one to go AWOL. As much as she complains about hating having to work in the city, she is always present. I swear her attendance is almost perfect, works even when sick but this sudden disappearance is so unlike her.”

“Has no one taken the initiative to visit her home, to see if she is there?”

Jasmine huffed “Tara and I have but the only problem with that plan is no one knows where she lives. The address in the Hunter database is fake. She was so crafty about it, using an address that wouldn’t be suspicious if you don’t know what you’re looking for. I went to it to find a bakery.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. He never realized that Lyssa was such a private person that she would lie about where she lived.

“I even went to our Captain, but she said Lyssa was away on a mission which I don't believe. I just hope she’s alright.”

The good doctor couldn’t help but nod in agreement, yet he felt he was missing something. “If you don’t mind, can you give me that address.”

A week and change ago

“At this point I should stop being surprised every time I get a call from you. Yet again, the only time you do call is when you’re in a predicament. So, what is it this time?”

Lyssa groaned in exasperation, her nerves were already in a state of turmoil and this jackass wasn’t helping “Dox now is not the time. You have experience with babies, right?”

The voice on the other line went silent “What the fuck did you do this time? You pregnant or something? Dam Lyssa, I know we haven’t spoken in a while but the last thing I expected was you popping out kids. Wait didn’t your doctor say that doing that would--”

“WOULD YOU STOP TALKING! IT’S NOT MINE! I NEED YOUR HELP CAUSE I’M WAY OVER MY HEAD HERE.”

The child in her hand squirmed before letting out an ear-piercing scream. Lyssa dropped the phone in surprise, hearing it clatter to the floor but did not try to pick it up, her focus entirely on calming the crying infant.

“Shh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout but I have no idea what I’m doing. Shh… it’s alright.”

“YO LYSSA! PICK UP THE PHONE AND PUT ON YOUR CAMERA.”

She glanced down, hearing Dox shouting and carefully retrieved the phone.

“I have you on speaker give me a minute to boost up the computer and switch the call over to that device.”

Lyssa did that quickly while simultaneously rocking the now fretting child. The exasperated expression of Dox popped on; his eyes swept over her person before landing on the child in her arms. He grinned like the cat that caught the canary.

“Well, well, well. Child theft is a new low even for you Dove.”

“I called for your assistance not your judgment and if you must know, I found them outside my apartment building, abandoned and left in a box. What was I to do? Leave them there?”

The cheerful look in Dox’s eyes left almost instantly “In a box? Don’t people know about orphanages or child services—whom you should have contacted. Why are you taking on this responsibility Lyssa?”

“My thoughts exactly. Why I haven’t called them is because I don’t want to. Have you forgotten my own experience or Alexandra’s or what about Rose?”

“That was years ago, the system has improved, you know this.”

“I don’t care. I refuse to let this child go through even a smidge of what we experienced and the thought of any organization raising a child sickens me.”

“Your bleeding heart is raising its head. Here I thought you locked away these emotions.”

“You are such a jackass Dox.”

Dox laughed “The jackass you called for help. Anyway, you should come to my place. I have tons of space, and the gang will be happy to see you again.”

“I refuse to come to the N109 zone. I think you’ve forgotten who I’m employed with.”

“Something you shouldn’t have done but I guess at the time you didn’t have much of a choice but be honest, is there really anything holding you back from quitting?”

“Not really,” she said without hesitation “But I don’t want to right now.”

Dox groaned “Girl, it’s not like you have to work. You got a shit ton of money than most people left by—”

Lyssa hissed angrily, being careful not to wake the child that fell back asleep “which I will not touch.”

“Lyssa, we spoke about this already. The money is yours. You deserve it after what happened. If you’re going to keep and raise the child which I know you will, your hunter salary wouldn’t last. Looking from here, they don’t look older than 5 months and you can’t return to work unless you hire a nanny which I advise against.”

Lyssa scowled “I hate when you’re right.”

“Saved you tons of headaches over the years because I’m mostly always right. Now, take my advice like the cute Dove you are and tell me what you want for dinner, Rose and I will be there in under an hour with some things for you and the kid.”

“I really need a crochet hook and wool of every color. This apartment doesn’t have any of my supplies and I feel out of place without seeing wool around the house.”

“You are such a granny.”

“Fuck you, Dox.”

“Sorry Dove, I am spoken for but thanks for thinking of me in that light.”

“Eww. Get off my computer. I’ll see you in an hour.”

True to his word, Dox arrived just under an hour, hands filled with bags of all sizes. Rose followed behind with several boxes.

“Where’s the wee babe. Let me get a good look at ‘em,” Rose asked excitedly. She was a petite woman, three years older than Lyssa, with red curly hair and soft features.

“That babe is sleeping so please don’t wake them.”

Dox snorted “Relax Dove. Rose is a baby expert; she is a Pediatric nurse after all.”

It was at that moment that Lyssa noticed Roses’ medical bag.

Rose gave her a reassured smile “Get something to eat, you look like you haven’t eaten all day and for the love of sake get out of that Hunter uniform.”

Dox gently pushed Lyssa to the direction of her room “You heard the nurse, get going, I’ll dish out dinner.”

Thanking them she did as was instructed. The warm water did wonders for her aching muscles and as she stood under the shower, a list of things that she had to take care of rushed through her mind.

Dox was right, she couldn’t rely on her hunter’s salary alone and speaking of work, being a Hunter wasn’t a safe career if she was going to be raising a child. She would have to request time off. Lyssa didn’t think it was smart to just up and resign, it would raise suspicion which she didn’t want.

She would have to call Captain Jenna in the morning. Next would be getting a crib and stocking up on formula and baby items. Then there is also the issue of making sure the child is not found out by Child services which shouldn’t be an issue with Alexandra and Dox involved.

Then there is her upcoming doctor’s appointment with Doctor Waverly which she would have to miss. Dam, it’s only been a few hours and already her whole life was being reshuffled.

Stepping out the shower, she hurried to get dressed and rejoin the others not wanting to keep them waiting.

When she stepped into the living room, Rose was in the process of putting a new outfit on the baby, cooing and looking excited.

Not too far from the couch stood a crib and a baby swing. Then on the center table had a pile of clothing, diapers, wipes, some books and other baby things.

“Lyssa come join me. Dox is in the kitchen putting away the bottles and formula.”

“When he said he was bringing a few things I wasn’t expecting all this. Saves me the hassle of getting them myself. Thank you.”

“None of that, we weren’t going to leave you headless about this. I think what you’ve chosen to do is admirable, and I agree with your decision to raise this child. Now, you will be pleased to know that apart from a few diaper rashes, she is a healthy baby. Dox wasn’t off about her age either; she is five months old. Poor thing being left alone the way she was.”

Lyssa sat down and observed the way Rose clothes the child. The delicate movements and soft touches. It was a relief knowing the baby's gender since it will help with research.

“To be honest I wasn’t sure whether or not you guys would help, after all, I stay away.”

Rose raised a brow “We know your personality. We know you little one. Even though you act like you’re better off alone, we’ll always offer a helping hand despite you being a stubborn arse.”

That made Lyssa laugh “Thank you regardless.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s leave this other little one to sleep since I’ve given her a feed and we can move this conversation to the kitchen. Dox and I have a few things to discuss with you.”

Present day

Lyssa rouse from her nap at the sound of rapping on her door. The night before little Ella refused to sleep, extremely fussy and did not want to be put in her crib. The little girl was now puckered out, fast asleep on her chest, fist clutching the shirt she wore.

The rapping persisted and Lyssa had a good mind to ignore whoever was at the door. All she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep deprivation was no joke.

Carefully putting the babe to her shoulder, one hand on her back and the other supporting her bottom, she slowly got up and walked to the door.

Blame it on her state of tiredness because she opened the door without checking the peephole.

“I guess I should be relieved that you’re alive, but this was the last thing I expected.”

All traces of sleepiness left her body at the voice of Doctor Zayne. If he found her it means that Doctor Waverly will find out and Jasmin, who will then tell Tara who will tell everyone at the Association, and they will get up in her business. She should have returned home when Dox offered to.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m sure you have your reasons for disappearing.”

Lyssa groaned at the absurdness of it all “How the hell did you find my apartment?”

“Jasmin gave me the address from your workplace and your Captain helped with the rest.”

Cursing, she turned and told him to get inside. The day was starting and already turning out to be a pain. She really didn’t want to talk to Doctor Zayne.

A/N: A new chapter will be out every weekend, on Sundays. If you wish to read it on my AO3 account, here's the link.

[0h0possum]

Kote-Ah Kenobi is the son of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Clone Commander Cody.

This is from my Alternate Universe called the ‘Kenobi Family AU’, which I’ll explain now (warning: plot dump):

During the Clone Wars Cody and Obi-Wan start to get close

First it starts as them starting to admire and trust each other in battle and appreciate the other’s leadership skills, etc.

Then it turns into a good friendship and camaraderie, they talk openly with each other on and off the battle field. They feel comfortable enough to snark and joke with eachother 

They more and more seek comfort in each other outside of work and battle

Soon their friendship turns into more, emotionally

This leads to both of them hiding complicated romantic feeling for each other

Obi-Wan has strick moral codes with being a Jedi and having no deep attachments, he desperately wants to be a good Jedi and leader. But he can’t help but love Cody

Cody deals with the social pressures of being a clone. Clones aren’t supposed to have deep emotions, to want things, to have personalities. He’s not aloud to feel anyway for anyone, let alone his General. He’s not considered a person to many, just a tool

(Skipping over much time and details) Eventually they confess to each other

They come to a sort of agreement, they care too much about each other to not be together, but they both have duties to others and agree to always put their jobs first

So they are in a secret relationship with the war as priority

But they both discuss getting ‘fully’ together after the war

Cody talks about fighting for freedom for the clones and getting to choose what they want (he wouldn’t have thought of this before getting with Obi-Wan, he didn’t even consider it a possibility for him or his brothers. But getting the chance to CHOOSE to be with Obi-Wan despite what the war demands gives Cody determination to give all clones a chance to choose what they want)

Obi-Wan wants to be with Cody, he says he’ll help Cody and his brothers in any way to get freedom. He starts to think how maybe Anakin is right about the Jedi rule against attachment being wrong (this may be a lil’ OCC for Obi-Wan but I like to think him loving Cody would make him reevaluate his morals and the Jedi rules)

(Obi-Wan even considers maybe leaving the order after the war to be with Cody, it isn’t the first time he thought about it or even actually left the order after all)

But alas, none of it is to be. Order 66 still happens

It plays out just like canon, and the clone chips are activated and Cody shoots Obi-Wan off the cliff and Obi-Wan flees

(This is where the BIG changes happen)

When Obi-Wan goes with Yoda to the Jedi Temple and sees the dead Younglings, they find Reva Sevander alive and rescue her

Yoda watches her while Obi-Wan confronts and fights Anakin

Afterwards Padmé still dies giving birth

This time though, Obi-Wan looks at Luke, Leia and Reva and just thinks ‘yeahs I’m taking all these kids’

He pretty much decides that since all three of these kids are force sensitive that they’ll need protection and training, he can hide them

Plus his time with Cody taught him the importance of bonds. he regrets telling Anakin to not have attachments and making him feel like he had to hide his and Padmé’s relationship. Maybe if Obi-Wan had been better about talking to Anakin, Anakin wouldn’t have been so afraid to lose Padmé and therefore turn Dark

So Obi-Wan ignores Yoda’s demands to spilt all the children up and just takes them all to a remote planet to raise them

(Reva takes Obi-Wan’s last name since he needs to present her as his adopted child and he lets Luke and Leia have their father’s last name (Skywalker) as memory to the man Anakin used to be (he tells everyone that Leia and Luke are the children of his brother))

Only a little time after settling on their new home and trying to raise two infants and handle a traumatized force sensitive child, Obi-Wan finds out he’s going to have Cody and his child (unplanned)

(It’s up to you to decide how they have a child idk, force magic or weird alien biology who cares)

So 9 months later Obi-Wan now has ANOTHER child (Kote-Ah), this one from his lover who turned on him and who he doesn’t even know if he’s alive (I can’t decide if Obi-Wan DOESN’T know about the chips in the clones and thinks Cody legitimately betrayed him, or if he DOES know about the chips and is just wallowing in the knowledge that Cody and all the clones have had their agency taken away and will be forced to work for the Empire or be killed)

(Either way he can’t risk finding Cody, he has to protect his kids)

Thus Obi-Wan Kenobi ends up with four kids (all who are force sensitive) (in hiding where he’s a wanted man and force sensitive children are killed on sight) (and Kote-Ah looks exactly like a clone so people are quite suspicious when they see him, and even more so when they notice how young he is and how his eyes aren’t amber/brown like all clones)

The AU from here is just Obi-Wan raising Reva, Luke, Leia, and Kote-Ah in secret

Obi-Wan continues Reva’s training and takes her as his Padawan when she’s of age, though it’s not a ‘formal padawan and master’ training because at that point Reva considers Obi-Wan her guardian/parental figure (not quite a father (Kote-Ah, Luke, and Leia call Obi-Wan ‘Dad’), but she does loves and treat him in a similar way to a child and parent)

When Leia, Luke, and Kote-Ah all get old enough he starts to train them, they need to be prepared for if (when) the Empire finds them

That’s the AU for now, there’s more from here but I already wrote a lot! I’ll probably do some more drawing one day and get into Kote-Ah’s personality and the family relationship of the ‘Kenobi Family’ and the plot from here on out.

Extras:

Reva helped a lot with raising the three younger kids

Having them around helped with her anger and trauma of seeing her crechemates killed (she holds no resentment towards Luke and Leia for being the children of the man who killed her crechemates)

Though this makes her very overprotective of Leia, Luke, and Kote-Ah

She’s desperate not to lose her new family

She’s always very mature for her age

All the siblings are very close, but Luke and Leia get along the best and Reva and Kote-Ah are also really close

They all are very close to Obi-Wan, who is very open and affectionate with them due to his regrets of not being as open and loving with Anakin (and his regrets that he never got to have an open and ‘true’ relationship with Cody before everything ended)

Obi-Wan tells many stories of Cody and the clones to Kote-Ah. Obi-Wan wants Kote-Ah to know about his other father and his family. Wants Kote-Ah to feel pride from his ‘heritage’ and not feel ashamed for looking like a clone

In this AU all four of the kids are trained in the Jedi ways and to fight, though way into the future only Reva and Luke take on the formal title of Jedi, Leia and Kote-Ah do not.

[pixelpumpkin]

dad who stepped up (from the shadows)

obkk | omegaverse | absolutely unserious (aka crack fic) | maybe part of a series | i don't have a beta and I'm not native speaker

A visit to Konoha leads Obito unwillingly (and secretly) back into Kakashi's life. or Obito have a mental breakdown when he finds out Kakashi is not a virgin.

For Obito, there were three absolute truths.

First, this world is rotten and needed of fixing.

Second, in this rotten world, only mercy the gods bestowed upon mankind was that Madara Uchiha never spread his genes.

Third, but not less important, Kakashi Hatake was a virgin.

He turned out to be wrong about all of those. It took him a long time to acknowledge his mistakes.

It started with a visit to Rin's grave.

Which was something that Obito didn't do in a while. Ever since the massacre, then when he was forced to be around Konoha for a while, he focused in other countries. It was not as if governments would collapse on their own—well, they sometimes did, but he didn't have time to wait for it.

He couldn't say he had a bad time last time he visited his birthplace. A lot happened, like visiting his late grandmother's favourite cafe which somehow led him to lose his virginity with a hot omega brunette named Sukea—which was completely unexpected, but definitely worth it.

It was not that Obito missed Konoha, he didn't. He simply wished to pay his respects to Rin. And his parents. And granny, because Obito was under the impression that the Tsuki no Me plan wouldn't be an excuse good enough to ignore her. Again, not that Obito was afraid of his grandmother, but he didn't want to have her haunting him anytime soon.

Granny had been a lovely woman. With a deadly glare Obito could still see if he closed his eyes.

These many reasons led him to Konoha once again.

He had a pleasant time talking to Rin and his parents and spent a good share of time explaining to granny why he had been absent for so long. Then, like all good things in his life, it was ruined by Kakashi Hatake.

First thing that came to Obito's mind when his former teammate showed up was: the audacity. Something inside of him boiled as he watched Bakashi approach Rin’s grave, but Obito wasn't that quick-tempered boy anymore, so he retracted and hide, so he could watch the scene—and complain about it for weeks later, though Obito wouldn't admit it to nobody.

Well, turned out he was about to have something worthy talking about. Because the scene that followed gagged the Uchiha so hard it almost brought up to surface his past fiery self, and he had to stop himself from gasping out loud.

Calmly, with short steps, Kakashi walked in, hands in his pockets and his usual jounin attire. Midway, he stopped. Obito's heart jumped in his chest, had he forgotten to hide his presence? Had he just blow up everything he did so far because he checked out Kakashi's butt for a second?

The answer came a second later.

“Mochi, aren't you coming?” Mochi? Who he thinks you're calling mochi, Bakashi? I'll show you the moc-

Obito didn't show him the mochi. Good thing, it'd be a drag to destroy years of work because he misunderstood Kakashi. Instead, the mochi showed itself.

Again, that almost made thirteen years old Obito Uchiha jump out of his chest to point and scream. Because the image was shocking. See, the thing about Kakashi is that it was much easier hating him when he wasn't followed by a pocket sized, round faced and wide-eyed tiny human being that had every reason to be called mochi.

Hell! That little sweet looking bunny was literally the cutest thing Obito had ever seen in his life! And he had been one of the first people to held baby Naruto, who was freaking cute with those whiskers! Yeah, Obito did kind of technically made little Naru an orphan, but it was unrelated to his appreciation of Minato-sensei and big sis Kushina's exceptional talent in making babies. He did held the “owwwnnn” during that even, like he was doing right now.

There weren't enough words to describe that girl's overload of cuteness! Gods! She walked kind of wobbly, but that might have something to do with the huge bouquet she was holding in her tiny hands—it was half her size, and wider than her, but sweet little mochi walked bravely with it. Her eyes revealed an absolutely unbothered nature, which hit Obito right through his heart. Her short dark hair flowed with the wind, and there was only one thing keeping Obito from dying of overdose of loveliness.

The fact that the girl wore a goddam mask.

Damn! It was like putting a pig costume on a puppy! Wait... No... Now that he was imagining it, a puppy in a pig costume was kind of cute too... Hm... Well! Obito could see the shadow of a pout in that little girl's face, and that god forsaken mask was preventing him from having this image, which for some reason made Obito absolutely mad. He growled slightly, then stopped himself. Weird. Usually, those secondary gender dynamics didn't take the best out of him. As a very late bloomer, he was used to keep the alpha quiet, which was good—that dude was crazy, even for Obito, you wouldn't think the things he made Obito think about late at night.

Yet, something about Kakashi and the little masked girl together made Obito's alpha really upset. Inside of Obito, that dude was making a weird dance as he gesticulated and screamed, good thing Obito turned the deaf ear to him—what could he possibly be saying that was important?

Only one thing mattered right now: who, in their right state of mind, would let a child alone with Friend Killer Kakashi? Even for Konoha's standards it was crazy, Obito doubted even the Sandaime would be obtuse enough to let it happen. Who were that girl's parents?

Obito's alpha did a double twist carp and landed in a split. Weird guy. Obito ignored him.

He put his hand on his chin, wondering who could possibly have sired such a sweet looking kid. Obito had set his eyes on that girl for one minute and a half and he had no doubts whatsoever that no cuter child has ever walked on Earth—nobody he knew could've produced her, they were all either murderers or losers or dead.

Obito's alpha drew the face of the cute brunette he met fiver years ago. Yeah, he had the potential, but that guy was too nice to even breath the same air as Kakashi, let alone allow his kid around him. No, it had to be someone else... Someone dumb... Someone dumb like...

“Aren't you late to meet your genin team, dada?”

... Like Kakashi, obviously!

That explained everythi—

WHAT. THE ACTUAL. FUCK.

World stopped spinning for a second. Obito almost fell from the tree he was hiding in.

Once again: What the actual fuck?!

Now, reformulating his past question: who was the idiot who had a child with Kakashi of all people?!

Not that he was judging (he was). It was just that... It’s Kakashi! How did he get long enough around someone to get them pregnant? And even if he did... Who?

Obito growled, picturing himself digging his teeth into an unknown throat until it's owner bled to death.

...Weird. Maybe it was Konoha's air. It always made him a little uneasy, like there was some strange scent in the air he couldn't quite tell but made it denser and hard to breathe. He should leave. Yeah, that was what he was supposed to do. He had people to kill, governments to overthrown, terrorist acts to commit in the name of the greater good. He did important things now, he couldn't keep up with the gossip in his former village.

Yet, he didn't move from the branch of the tree he had landed.

Obito had his sharingan activated, which meant that scene would be forever engraved in his mind. He wishes that girl wasn't wearing any mask, which made his heart twitch in a weird way, as if he had been stolen of something important, he was entitled to. His alpha was doing flips in the back of his mind. Weird guy...

Kakashi's little daughter—God, that was crazy to say—walked toward the grave with her giant bouquet. She put it in the ground and closed her eyes, as if in a silent prayer. Even though Obito couldn't see her face, he noticed the twitch of Kakashi's face's muscles, and he knew he was proudly smiling. For some reason, Obito liked that. He grits his teeth. He should definitely leave.

“Aunt Rin, it's me.” The little girl spoke, her voice had the same sleepy pitch as Kakashi's, and for a child that age she spoke rather clearly. She couldn't be older than four, Obito noticed, and something started to ring in the back of his mind. “Dada’s genin team passed the bells test. It's the first time it happens.” So... Kakashi was becoming a team leader. Was it a good idea? “He said there's only one more thing they need to do to get his approval.” Of course, he will do anything to run from responsibility. “They need Horin's approval.” Horin... Who even is Horin? Was it Kakashi's partner? Good, it'll make easier to track them and ki— “And I intend to give it to them. Horin always wanted big siblings!”

Ho... Rin.

The world went silent. It was her name. The little mochi.

It was Kakashi's daughter name. Horin. The audacity. He—

That stupid little—

Kakashi chuckled. It was so... sweet. And genuine. One of his hand caressed Horin's dark hair. Obito’s lips trembled, and he at once bit it. He wasn't sad, he told himself. Just mad. Mad because that... That Kakashi had a child with someone else and was bold enough to name that child after the girl he killed.

She looks so sweet... Look how she smiles with her eyes...

Kakashi don't deserve her. I should take her and raise her as my own.

Uh... Never mind.

His alpha knocked his head against an imaginary wall until he opened a hole in it.

Obito closed his hands in a fist.

“Don't be so sure you'll like then, how can you tell they're not annoying?” Kakashi inquired, picking up the little girl.

“Horin could do it in spite of you, for not giving her older siblings.”

Kakashi blushed inside his mask.

“Mochi, I was too young to have kids before you!” He said as he turned his back from the grave and walked away.

“I don't want to hear excuses, dada.” And like that, they disappeared amongst the trees, leaving Obito with the dreadful newfound knowledge that Kakashi had a kid.

Maybe Obito was hyperventilating, but it was just due to the weather in Konoha. After all, who cared if Kakashi had a kid? Like, not Obito. Not at all. It wasn't important in any way, and as soon as his body went back working Obito would return to his very important world domination agenda to never think about it again.

Yeah, he was about to leave at any moment.

So, Obito invaded a public building and was now going through top secret files.

Ok, those weren't top secret. But it was a public building. The hospital.

One never knows who he'll find looking through birth certificates of clan kids, right? There might be some juicy information to help him on his plans. Surely there was. Oh, so many interesting births. Maybe some kekkei genkai that could be useful? Yeah... Like... Oh, who knows? Hatake's white chakra? Oh, what is it? If it isn't Horin Hatake's birth certificate! What a coincidence! He might just leave it there, you know, there are plenty of...

Oh.

OH?

Obito brought the piece of paper the closest as possible from his face. He might've read it wrong.

He definitely did. This, or the doctors were absolute incompetents.

He turned the paper down, as if something would happen. He put it against the light, hoping to reveal a secret. He squished his eyes, because maybe he had developed myopia in the past few years and had read it wrong.

No, this can't be...

Obito dramatically slashed the paper against the table. He turned his back to it and raised a feet to leave. He couldn't stand any longer this Kakashi nonsense. Of course, everything about him had to be upsetting, and Obito was way to old for that shit,

He turned on his heel and picked on the paper again, activating his sharingan.

There wasn't a mistake. Unless someone had really messed up and written it wrong, which was unlikely because Kakashi himself probably had read that and wouldn't simply leave it with incorrect information. No. It was plain and clear. There was a signature in it. A fucking signature. It was an official document.

It read exactly what Obito thought it read.

Name: Horin Hatake.

Mother: Kakashi Hatake.

Father: Unknown.

Obito wasn't sure about which one of these shocked him the most.

He stared into the wall in absolute silence for five minutes. That wasn't a joke, he literally stood there for five minutes until a ninja entered the room and he freaked out and yeeted them into the Kamui. Great, he wasn't even planning killing someone that day! See what you just did, Kakashi? You killed someone!

That lying... that filthy... that...

Ugh! He couldn't even curse him anymore! His grandmother's ghost would come for him if he ever spoke an ill word against an omega. Omega! Kakashi... an omega! Obito could only remember all the times he was inappropriate around his former teammate.

He was so done. His granny would die again if she learned of it. He cursed (multiple times) in front of an omega! It was not that Obito thought badly of them, he didn't think omegas were any lesser in any way. But his grandmother was a traditional old omega lady who went through a lot. She raised him in a way in which you don't even invade an omega's personal space without humiliating yourself to them first to make sure it is okay to breath their air. Obito did much more than just invade Kakashi’s personal space...

Oh, no... Did Kakashi told his grandma how they talked to each other in a daily basis? Was she struck with disappointment and died of disgust? Did Obito accidentally kill his own grandma?

One thing was becoming a worldwide criminal, but killing his own grandma was a completely different level!

Obito looked to the dead body of the teen he had just cancelled off life. He walked past them and sat on the ground, taking off his mask as he went through all the apologies he could say to his grandma in a prayer. “I failed you grandma... I'm just like any other alpha who mistreats omegas! I'm so sorry! Please don't come pull my feet at night!”

The teenager moaned on the ground.

“Aren't you dead already?” He grunted before throwing a fireball at the Konoha ninja, then returning to his muttering. “Oh, my poor grandma... What would you think of me, now?” He hid his face in his hands.

Even though it was known early on he was an alpha, Obito had been extremely slow in growing into it. Different from guys such as Asuma or Ibiki, he didn't enter puberty as a tall and broad boy whose voice made other teens swoon. According to the doctors, it was completely normal and healthy, that the expectations for early maturations were unrealistic and based off old beliefs that more traditional people liked to spread in order to reinforce gender norms. Still, it was kind of annoying being the dead last even when it came to hormones, so it wasn't as if Obito was trying to bring up everyone's secondary gender.

Yeah, he assumed Kakashi was an alpha, what about it? Maybe they were similar in something, maybe he wasn't alone in this late puberty thing, maybe everyone's perfect genius also struggled with voice cracks! Ok, Kakashi was younger than him, but only slightly, and maybe Obito completely ignored it for his own delusions.

While alpha’s ruts (doctor's words) were expected to come around fifteen to seventeen in healthy conditions, heats usually came earlier for omegas. Around twelve or fourteen, something like that. Which meant that Obito probably wasn't around anymore when Kakashi had his first heat, and therefore he couldn't smell that Kakashi was an omega before, which led Obito to assume...

Well, Kakashi never said anything about his secondary gender, and it wasn't anyone's business to ask. But with an attitude like that, no wonder why thought he was an alpha boy. Why else he’d be so infuriating for Obito's slowly developing alpha?

But no... Turned out Kakashi had been an omega this whole time. He had been in the ANBU... He had been a ninja for so long... From such a young age... Oh, gods. It only got worse.

There was an “Unknown" below Horin's name. Unknown father... Someone had... With Kakashi.

Obito didn't know what was worse: little Horin being the result of a honeypot mission or little Horin having a deadbeat dad. Kakashi had been twenty-one when she was born, which thankfully wasn't as young as it could've been. Contraceptives could fail, of course, but Obito had a hard time imagining Kakashi deciding to keep a pregnancy from a mission. With the sort of mission, he probably was given, Obito wouldn't even be surprised.

Which meant...

There was a sudden murder feeling growing from Obito's gut to his throat, cutting through his body like a kunai. The sharingan activated again. Someone had abandoned Kaka— Horin. Obito shouldn't care, but simply picturing someone refusing to be in that little mochi's life made him burn of rage.

His alpha screamed in his shoulder. “Shut up! I'm trying to think!”

Gods... If only Minato-sensei had been ali—Well, let’s not think of it.

One thing for sure, if Minato-sensei had been alive, he would've hunt down this deadbeat father and skinned him alive, then he'd sell his organs in the dark market and give Kakashi the money from it. As he should.

Obito took a deep breath. He thought of his grandmother, who had raised a son entirely on her own, and then a grandson. She had been ostracized and segregated for years in her own clan. This world was cruel. Specially with omegas, and until this world was fixed, Obito had no choice but do the right thing. What Minato-sensei and granny would've wanted of him.

Even if from the shadows, he was not letting Kakashi down. Even if he was a friend killer who Obito hated. Little Horin had nothing to do with her mother's past crimes, she was a little pack of happiness and sunshine and Obito would kill whoever crossed her path and made her suffer.

He had no idea why it felt so personal. Really. He had the impression he was letting something slide. His alpha was moving his mouth frantically, but Obito knew better than to listen to those weird instincts that turned mankind into savages.

Obito was sure of two things. First, he had to find this deadbeat dad and make sure he suffers till he begs for forgiveness. Two, Horin was his responsibility. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy.

Maybe he should kidnap her or something.

OMAKE

Obito had never been inside a Jashinist temple. It was pleasantly clean, which was surprising considering their practices. He approached the priest, and after a short talk, the guy reassured him that no sin was beyond Lord Jashin's forgiveness.

Obito didn't believe in Jashin, but after his recent discovering, he decided he needed to confess himself. Otherwise, he wouldn't be capable of sleeping at night.

So, with a heavy heart, and after a long breath, he mumbled. “I might've indirectly caused my grandma's death.”

There was a moment of silence.

Next thing he knows he is running from jashinists who are screaming insults against him.

What a way to finish a rough day.

So, I kinda created this fic in 2020 after I read another fic. Unfortunately, I have the bad habit of reading fanfictions and not bookmarking them, which means I don't know which fic was that, but the concept is the same: Obito finds out he has a kid with Kakashi. Difference is that this one is absolute crack going off vibes (I mean, I haven't rewatched the anime or reread the manga recently, I'm just trying to have fun and enjoy one of my favourite ships of all time), and the fic that inspired me was exceptionally well written and angsty. Well, there is some lore to it (that I recycled from other fics I never properly wrote) and supposedly this should be part of a series, but I won't promise anything.

In the beginning, it was a fem Kakashi, which could've worked for the story, but I went with omegaverse with this one because... Why not... But I have a old art of it. My art style has completely changed ever since, but at least my girl Horin looks cute. Well, if you read this, thank you. Hopefully I'll work other parts of this story, but who knows...

[kotemf]

Codywan week - day 6

I'm posting this late but I hope y'all can still enjoy reading! It's my fill for day 6 of the @codywanweek. You can read the story here, on Wattpad or Ao3. Thanks to the all of you who give it a try!

  Prompt: créchemaster Obi-Wan, quiet love, touch starved

Cody never dared to plan what he was going to do after the war. He never dared to hope that he will survive until the very end. So, when the war ended abruptly and he actually had a choice, he had no idea what he wanted to do.

  He ended up working as a security guard in some gallery. He didn't like it there all that much, it was boring, but it was the best he could find. He didn't have any education besides military training. And he needed money.

  Sometimes, Cody wished he stayed in the army. Rex had and he got to guard the Jedi temple sometimes. Maybe if Cody chose the same path, he could still see his general sometimes. Just a glimpse of the man would be enough. Or maybe it wouldn't.

  Obi-Wan was still a topic that Cody wasn't able to figure out. He wanted. He wanted to see his former general, wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to undress him and so on. Just like he did during their shore leave. Only it wasn't real. It was just a way to distract themselves, just a way to keep their minds busy when not on the front lines. Because forgetting about the casualties of the last battle was so much easier with his general on top of him. That's how it started.

  Now, months later, Cody was still in love with his general. Obi-Wan probably already forgot Cody still existed. He made it pretty clear that there was nothing between them, no attachment. That all their relationship was about was some entertainment. And Cody, in his foolish, so, so, foolish mind, made it something more. Even if he had the guts to go visit his general, he was too afraid that the Jedi would pick up on his emotions.

  So he didn't. He built himself a routine, he couldn't live any other way. Wake up from his dreams about Obi-Wan. Workout, while imagining his general being next to him, doing the same. Think about Obi-Wan while eating breakfast. Go to work. Still think about Obi-Wan. Wander the halls of the building, keeping his eyes open. Still with clear pictures of his very naked general in his mind. Going back from work. Still dreaming about coppery hair and pale skin. Going out with brothers. Finally forgetting the damned Jedi after his eleventh drink.

  This day was no different. Until it was. Because hey, his daydreams were never this real. There was no way his imagination was so good. Because the Obi-Wan he was looking at right now was perfect, more perfect than any of his imaginations. 

  This Obi-Wan was real, showing something on an abstract painting of an ocean to a bunch of tubies - no, not tubies, children. Why the actual kriff was Cody's former Jedi general in a gallery with a bunch of children? And why was Boil there too, catching a Pantoran boy before he could get lost among the crowds of people?

  Cody's time to think about it and order his thoughts was cut short. Boil noticed him, of course he did. He waved at Cody. It would be far too awkward if Cody ignored him. This left Cody with no choice but to join the group.

  "Uh... hello?"

  "Hey, Codes, it's been a while." Boil greeted Cody with a half hug. It's been exactly eight days since they saw each other the last time. Cody wouldn't exactly call it long but whatever. "Ad'ike, this is Cody, my annoying big brother."

  "Cody? Like commander Cody?" a Mikkian girl asked. How would she even know that? She looked to be five standard years old at most, there was no way the Jedi taught her about the war and much less the clones.

  "I used to be a commander, yes." Cody nodded, because there wasn't much else he could do.

  "Master Obi told us a lot about you," a Rhodian boy told him. Now that was interesting. Obi-Wan told a bunch of random Jedi - at least Cody assumed they were Jedi - tubies about him. Why?

  Boil gave Cody a look. Cody didn't like it all that much but before he could really think about what that particular look meant, Boil was already talking to the tubies. "I know Cody is fun and all, but did you know there is a play area for children somewhere? Do you want me to take you there? Cody can wait."

  Apparently, Boil was good with children now. He left with all of the tubies. And that meant... Cody was alone with Obi-Wan. So that was what Boil's look meant.

  "Hello, Cody."

  "General." Cody nodded to Obi-Wan who rolled his eyes.

  "Drop that. I'm not even a general anymore."

  "So you take Jedi tubies to galleries now?"

  "Sometimes." Obi-Wan shrugged. "The council was looking for a créchemaster and I took the job. They are sweet."

  "And you told them about me?" That probably wasn't the right thing to say.

  Cody's question made Obi-Wan blush. It was adorable. Cody wanted to kiss him. It was like one of the fake scenarios he imagined before falling asleep, the one where he bumped into Obi-Wan while walking the halls of the gallery, like in some sappy novel, and Obi-Wan blushed and then they kissed and then they magically teleported to Cody's bedroom. It could still happen, if Cody took a step forward, leaned closer-

  "Well, of course I told them about you." Obi-Wan's words cut through Cody's so very professional day dreams. "They like to hear stories about heroes. Besides... I missed you."

  To say Cody missed Obi-Wan would be an understatement. Cody said it anyway.

  Obi-Wan blushed even more at that and his pale skin did exactly nothing to hide it. Cody loved it. "Is that so?" Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to touch Cody for a moment but then he pulled his hand back and firmly clasped his hands in front of him.

  Cody just wished Obi-Wan touched him.

[babygirl-diaz]

In Which Buck and Tommy Have a 3-Year-Old Named Eliza Part II

Eliza: Papa, can I do your makeup? Tommy: Oh... Um... Yeah, sure. Not like I have to be at work or anything ***3 hours and 4 showers later at the 118*** Ravi: Oh hey, Tomm- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE? Chim: Did it get run over? Eddie: What look were you going for here? A dead raccoon? Hen: Hope you weren't trying to do black face. Tommy: What? No! Lizi decided she wanted to do makeup. What I didn't realize was that her "makeup" was actually permanent markers Buck: Hey ba- Lizi got you too, huh? Tommy: This is all your fault! Why did you have to show her those makeup tutorials? Buck: She wanted to see them! Besides, it's not my fault you're incapable of saying no to our daughter. Hen: Wait... Didn't she make YOU wear a tutu to work over your uniform last week? Chim: Yeah, didn't she make you tell the daycare kids that you, and I quote "put out fires for dinosaurs." Wait... Actually, that one must have been her calling you old. I love her for that. Eddie: Also, didn't she make you tell Tommy you wanted a divorce after Tommy forgot to get her favorite ice cream? Ravi: You two should write a book on parenting and call it Tevan's Guide To How Not To Raise Your Child

[scarlettscribbles]

prologue

PART OF neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons by the sea DRABBLE SERIES ↠ masterlist

- Lucy Gray Baird & Daughter!OC, mentioned Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow

Summary: 1.7k words - The words were on the tip of her tongue before Coriolanus had let it slip that he'd killed three people.

As Lucy Gray became a ghost lost in the wind, so did her secrets.

a/n: i cannot stop thinking about snowbaird !! inspired by my visenya-verse and also bc i love writing about children being loved :)

also, shout out to PlayingTheGameOfThrones' It's Quiet Uptown! i was reading snowbaird fics and i was so happy to find a secret kid fic. literally squealed in excitement bc i was like, that's what's literally in my brain rn

In truth, Lucy Gray was too young to be doing this. Halfway eighteen, with her heart broken by a man — a boy, really — who almost killed her. Ironically, the suspect of her current predicament was the same person. Oh how Lucy Gray hated it that he still haunted her now.

She had Lucy Gray’s tan skin, her baby girl. The wisps of her hair stuck against her forehead were bright blond. Lucy Gray wondered if her hair would darken eventually.

Annabel Rose Baird was a sickly baby. Her heart was weak and every night, Lucy Gray would have trouble sleeping, afraid that she’d wake up with a cradle gone cold. But she was a survivor, her Annie. Much like her mother. (And father.)

But they could not live on that alone. Lucy Gray, barely recovered from birth, wrapped her baby tight on her back with a sling and took their meager belongings in a bag, setting out to find the community up North Billy Taupe had once talked about. Lucy Gray walked for miles and miles, sometimes wishing she hadn’t left behind that lovely orange scarf her lover gave her. It would’ve made for a more comfortable sleep in their journey. She could’ve given it to Annie as her baby blanket, something to remember her childhood by — the one piece of her father she would ever know or keep. But alas, Lucy Gray had left it behind along with the broken pieces of trust she once thought she could rely on.

Lucy Gray found them eventually. Or rather, they found her. It was in the middle of the night and she’d just put Annie to sleep when flashes of light shone through the gaps between the trees. Cradling her whimpering baby close to her chest, Lucy Gray raised a hand in surrender, hoping that she was saying the right words for them to not shoot her.

They took them to their leader and gave them a small cabin. It was cozy and comfortable but it wasn’t home. Not when their leader, with his calculating eyes and access to Capitol broadcasts, look at her and her baby with such intense scrutiny. Lucy Gray’s paranoia increases every time he “accidentally” chances upon her with questions about the Capitol, about the Hunger Games, about Annie. He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is. Lucy Gray endures his questions, answering casually to alleviate the suspicion upon her. Her heart threatens to beat out of her chest every single time. She could only properly breathe again when she’s back within the four walls of their cabin, with Annie safe in her arms, her little puffs of breath warming Lucy Gray from the inside out.

The one saving grace of the place was Dr. Hartree. She was training under some big shot Capitol doctor when she fled, so she knew more than the District healers did despite the meager hospital equipment she had. She diagnosed Annabel Rose with something called moderate Ventricular Septal Defect; a heart disease she had since birth. Dr. Hartree let her listen to the whooshing sound of her Annie’s heartbeat through the stethoscope. Her baby’s got a hole in her heart. Lucy Gray wept.

Dr. Hartree said that the hole might yet repair itself, that she could look for some medicine that could help strengthen Annie’s heart muscles. But if it did not, Annie would need heart surgery which Dr. Hartree was neither qualified for nor equipped to do. In that scenario, going to the Capitol would be Annie’s best hope, said the doctor. The community’s leader approved Dr. Hartree’s request for getting the medicine. In exchange, Lucy Gray had to take on additional work on top of what she’d already been assigned with to earn her keep. Lucy Gray was both thankful and suspicious. She was no fool, a big favor like that didn’t come without heavier strings. But her baby was alive so Lucy Gray kept her head down. (For the moment, at least.)

Annabel Rose grew up a happy child. She was small for her age but her presence filled the room and her heart was so full of love. Whenever she smiled, a deep dimple showed on her cheek and her warm brown eyes would shine like stars in the night sky. Her baby never did grow out of her blond hair, riotous curls tumbling down her head. She looked like an angel; Lucy Gray’s own angel.

She was truly heaven sent. There were no words to describe how much her daughter made her happy, which was something, coming from a songwriter. Oft Lucy Gray wished the Covey had a chance to know her daughter. Annabel Rose fit in alright with the children of the community, but children can be cruel sometimes. Annie’s body was weak and she ran out of breath fast, making her unable to be included in strenuous physical activities. Lucy Gray was not deaf to the whispers of “runt” that surrounded her daughter, whispers that eventually reached Annie’s ears, causing her to come home tearfully, fisting her mother’s skirt and asking what it meant. Once upon a time, Lucy Gray would have been rearing for a fight but everything was different now. She didn’t have her Covey; her and Annie were alone.

Oh, people were nice enough but, like in District 12, they seemed to be able to sense an otherness in her and Annie that made them unable to accept them fully. It didn’t help that the community leader’s demeanor was like that either. The residents liked and respected him better than the strangers they barely knew anything about, so of course they’d follow his example.

Lucy Gray had been missing her Covey so much that she contemplated going back to District 12, back to her family, when she’d heard that an electric fence was put around it, complete with Peacekeepers patrolling the perimeter. They’d never bothered with that area before, but Lucy Gray had an inkling why they suddenly found it important.

So what else could she do but grit her teeth and bear it? Every night Lucy Gray would sing songs to Annie and tell her stories about the Covey, about her family and the colorful nights and laughter they shared. And Annie’s eyes would shine in the low lamplight, humming along to the tunes.

Lucy Gray did not bring her guitar with her during her journey out of District 12, but she was able to obtain a smaller version — a ukulele — from a traveling salesman. His initial offer nearly took all her saved up money to pay for, but she was able to haggle down to a more reasonable price. At 3-years-old, Annabel Rose learned the basic chords from her mother. The first song she learned was to the tune of Lucy Gray's namesake.

It tugged at Lucy Gray’s heartstrings to hear her Annie’s sweet voice in the warmth of their home. She resolved to write a song for her daughter’s fourth birthday as a gift. Lucy Gray had her song, and so did her Capitol boy. It was only apt that Annabel Rose had one too.

It was the night of Annabel Rose's fourth birthday when everything went wrong. Lucy Gray was humming underneath her breath to the tune of a new song, their tiny kitchen fragrant with the smell of a birthday cake she’d stolen half the ingredients for to bake. She lit up a deformed red candle she attempted to mold from whatever melted wax she could find, cupping the flame between her palms briefly to keep it from being blown out. With a satisfied sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the bed to shake her daughter awake.

All Lucy Grey felt was the cold skin of her daughter, her breathing shallow and her skin tinged blue. Her heart dropped to her stomach. With shaking hands, she wrapped Annie in a blanket and lifted her into her arms.

On the way to Dr. Hartree’s cabin, Lucy Gray would not realize that she’d been singing the song she’d written for Annie. And she will sing it under her breath while the good doctor examined her daughter, telling her the heart defect had gotten worse. She’d sing it at the back of her mind while Dr. Hartree tells her that surgery wasn’t an option anymore, that the medicine Annie’ll need is only available in the Capitol, that if she wants her baby to live she’ll need to find some way to get her a heart transplant. She’ll sing it and sing it, hoping the girl she’d written it for would awaken long enough to sing it with her.

She would only stop when Dr. Hartree clasped her hands, telling her in a hushed whisper that she’d found a way to get them to the Capitol discreetly. The doctor’s got family among the Peacekeepers in District 12 who was going to go to the Capitol in two days. Some officer fellow that was high-ranking enough to have his own private train cabin, and kind enough to share it with them. Dr. Hartree had given her temporary antibiotics for Annie with an apology that she couldn’t do anything more. When they arrive in the Capitol, Lucy Gray was on her own. Lucy Gray who had no penny to her name, who would probably be shot on sight once the Capitol had caught wind of her existence.

Her mind was racing on the morn she and a barely-lucid Annie snuck out to the gates. They were met with a heavyset man two heads taller than Lucy Gray, driving a military jeep. Time passed quickly and they encountered no hurdles getting to the train station on time. He lent them warm Capitol-style cloaks so they could blend in upon arrival. He’d even made her a cup of tea, noticing the nervousness in her demeanor. Lucy Gray had not been expecting such kindness from a Peacekeeper, no matter how highly Dr. Hartree spoke of him.

It was nighttime when they arrived, snow falling heavily on the ostentatious buildings. It wasn’t only the cold that made Lucy Gray shiver.

Under the cover of the night, Lucy Gray held her Annabel Rose and rapped on the door of the one she’d hoped would help them. If blood was not an enough reason, she could always appeal to their conscience.

The door swung open.

“Tigris, I need your help.”