#i sound like a toddler having a temper tantrum

[sebscore]

Omg LL idea!!! Him bringing her up on the podium with him in his karting days🤭 He is in like the teenage “inchident” years, and he wins a race that LL attended with the family, and he beckons her over and onto it with him in her cute little summer dress, adorable!!

A DAY AT THE RACES

pairing: leclerc family x leclerc!reader (+ gasly fam cameo)

warnings: toddler tantrum. crying. 

author's note: toddler leclerc is back!! huge shoutout to @champomiel for making me obsessed with a baby little leclerc :))) and also thank you to each person who send in a request regarding baby leclerc!! 

masterlist 

• • • • • • •

''When Charles drives by, you have to yell his name very loudly, okay?'' Pascale told the toddler in Lorenzo's arms, smiling as she saw her daughter respond enthusiastically. 

Her older brother nodded to their mother's words. ''Yeah, you have to scream ''Go Charles!'' so he can hear you.'' He added. 

The young girl nodded to their words, all her attention back on the track in front of them. It was her first time at Charles' karting race- or at least the first time she was consciously experiencing it. 

Y/N was still only a toddler so everything is still quite sensitive to her, like the loud sounds of the kart engines. Pascale had taken several ear-protective gear with her, hoping her youngest wouldn't throw a tantrum like Arthur and Charles used to do at the F1 races when they were her age. 

''There he is!'' Hervé exclaimed, grabbing his family's attention. ''Allez, Charles! Keep going! Come on, Charles!'' The man cheered his son on from behind the fences. 

The young teenagers cruise by in their karts, the place drowned in applause and noises from their family and friends as they pass the crowd. The sudden booming voices caused Y/N to get distracted and glance around her instead of screaming for her brother, who was running in first place. 

The toddler whimpered as she glanced back at the track and saw that all the small cars were gone. ''I missed Charlie.'' She sniffled, which rapidly turned into bawling. 

The Leclerc family's focus turned from Charles' P1 to the youngest's sobbing. ''What's wrong, bébé? Do your ears hurt?'' Pascale's impression was that the combination of the loud cheers and engines were too much for the little one's ears. 

Y/N frantically shook her head, making Lorenzo tighten his hold on her. ''I missed Charlie! I didn't say ''Go Charles'', Maman!'' She whined to her mother, calming Pascale's worries that her daughter wasn't in physical pain. 

''It's okay, it's okay! Don't worry about it, chérie.'' Hervé attempted to comfort her, endeared by the girl's concern for not cheering her older brother on. 

Her father's words didn't seem to have any effect on her and she kept crying her eyes out. She reached for the headphones on her head, trying to get them off her head- too much stimulation around her at the moment. 

''Wow! Be careful, you have to keep those on.'' Lorenzo gently scolded her, with Hervé stopping her and keeping the headphones on her head. 

''No! They're too heavy!'' Y/N continued whining, struggling to take them off. 

Pascale watched on, navigating on what she should do as her daughter carried on with her  adorable yet frustrating temper tantrum. ''Chérie, take her with you to the finish line.'' She instructed her husband, pointing to where the person with the chequered flag was waiting. 

Hervé nodded at her, releasing her from Lorenzo's arms. The small girl continued shedding tears, but nestled in her father's arms. ''We're gonna see Charles, okay?'' He asked her, smiling down at her as he walked away from their family members. 

Y/N timidly shook her head up and down, loudly sniffing her stuffy nose. ''Is Cha gonna be angry at me, Papa?'' 

Her father frowned at her question. ''Why would he be angry with you, bébé?'' 

''Because I didn't yell for him, and Lolo and Maman told me to yell for him when he passed us.'' In her mind, her older brother would be upset that she didn't cheer him on. 

The man chuckled, the innocence of his daughter's explanation warming his heart. ''Charles is not angry with you. He knows you're his biggest supporter! We're gonna wait for him at the finish line so you can be the first one to give him a hug.'' Her father told her. 

His assurance that her brother wasn't cross with her, making her stop crying and let out a small smile on her lips. ''Did he win?'' 

''He is currently in first place and Pierre is right behind him so we'll see when he finishes the race.'' Hervé responded to her, giving the side of her head a kiss. 

The pair arrived at the busy part of the track, somehow making it to the front of the fence so they could watch Charles take the chequered flag. ''Make sure you keep your headphones on, bébé- we don't want your ears to hurt.'' He adjusted the gear on her head. 

''Okay, Papa.'' Y/N politely answered, not having a problem with the headphones anymore. ''When does Charles stop driving?'' She asked him, not seeming to have much patience. 

''A few more laps around the track and he's done.'' They had only brought her to the side of the track towards the end of the race, her parents knowing she would otherwise be sleeping through the whole thing and be upset that she missed it. 

The sounds of the engines became slowly louder and louder, indicating the drivers were passing by again. ''He's coming again, Y/N- make sure to yell for him.'' Her father signalled to her. 

This time, the toddler only held her focus on the track, screaming her brother's name as soon as he came into her sight. Hervé and the people around them laughed at the little girl's small voice, finding it adorable as she was the only one screaming for a few seconds. 

''Go, Charles!'' Y/N and her father chorused, cheering on Charles who was still in first position. She rested her face in his neck, having grown shy by her own yelling. 

A few laps later, her brother was the first one to cross the finish line and win the race, with Pierre coming in second behind him. 

Y/N started fussing in her father's arms, wanting to go to Charles and give him a hug. Hervé chuckled at her excitement, but told her to wait until he got out of his kart, and took off his helmet. Pierre's father, Jean-Jacques, joined them, pinching the little girl's cheeks and giving Hervé a handshake. ''Good race.'' He concluded, giving them a nod. 

''A nice battle between them today.'' Hervé confirmed, satisfied with the results and the performances of the two young boys. 

The toddler tugged on his shirt. ''Papa, can I go to Charles now?'' She whined, not a fan of how long it seemed to be taking. 

The two men chuckled at her impatience. Her father glanced at his son and saw that Charles had already climbed out of his kart, and was in the process of removing the helmet off his head. 

''Charles!'' Hervé called for the young boy, waving his free arm at him. The winner of the day spotted his father and sister, his smile becoming wider at the sight of his family. 

Charles tapped Pierre's arm, pointing to his own father. The two boys made their way over still in full adrenaline from the race and their podium finishes. Once they were close enough, Hervé put his daughter down and gave her a light push towards them. 

Y/N jumped over to her brother, her arms already spread. Charles got the message and took a big extra step, embracing his sister and easily picking her up. ''Cha, I yelled for you! Did you hear me?'' She asked him, her arms firmly around him. 

''Yeah, you were very loud!'' He replied, pretending that he had heard her through all the noise even though he hadn't. 

''You were super fast! You went like zoom~'' The little girl imitated the sound of the karts, making both Charles and Pierre laugh. 

''We are supposed to go zoom~'' The French boy impersonated her. 

''Good job, boys! Nicely done, Charles!'' Hervé praised them as they made their way back to where they had been waiting. The rest of their families had also found them and gathered together. 

Charles put his sister down so he could give everyone a hug of his own. After Pascale embraced her son and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, she motioned for Y/N to come to her. ''You gave your brother a hug?'' She said to her daughter as she lifted the girl up. 

''Yes, I was the first one.'' She proudly told her mother, hugging her neck. 

Pascale grinned, relieved her husband was able to calm the girl down. ''Wow! The first one? That's great, chérie.'' 

A tap on Pascale's leg brought her attention from her daughter to her youngest son. ''Maman, can I have ice-cream now?'' Arthur asked her, a pout present on his face. 

''I want ice-cream too!'' Y/N exclaimed upon hearing her brother's question. 

The woman put her daughter down, next to Arthur. ''We're going to eat with Pierre's family after the boys get their trophies. You can get ice-cream as dessert.'' She explained to them. 

''But I want it now!'' Arthur continued. 

''You're gonna have to wait, Tutur.'' Lorenzo told his little brother, chuckling at his impatience. 

The young man noticed the Gasly family, his father and Charles moving to where the trophy ceremony would take place. He glanced at his little siblings. ''Cha is getting his trophy, come on!'' 

Arthur listened to his older brother's words and grabbed his sister's small hand, guiding her to the podium as they walked next to Pascale and Lorenzo. The mother and son duo swooned at the sight of Arthur acting like an older sibling to the young girl. 

''Why do you walk so slow, Y/N? You have to go faster.'' The boy complained, having to reduce his speed so his sister could catch up. 

Lorenzo chuckled. ''She has small legs, Tutur! Go at her pace.'' He reminded his little brother. 

''That's not my fault.'' Arthur answered, matter-of-factly. He kept walking at his pace, ignoring his sister practically running to stay next to him. 

''Thur!'' Lorenzo stopped him, grabbing his shoulders. The older one then focused on the toddler and picked her up, not wanting her to grow tired from simply walking. ''Alright, let's go.'' 

The podium ceremony wasn't something too extravagant. They called out the names of the top three and handed the winners their trophies, often with some flowers as well. 

As the families waited for the presentations to start, Charles grabbed his dad's attention. ''What is it, Cha?'' He asked his son. 

''Can I bring Y/N with me on the podium?'' 

Charles had done it countless times when Arthur was younger and he had seen many other winners bring their siblings up on the podium with them- he wanted to include his little sister somehow. 

Hervé smiled, touched by his son's sentiment. ''That's okay with me, but ask your mother to be sure.'' He knew Pascale wouldn't have a problem with it, but he didn't want to surprise his wife with Charles suddenly taking their daughter with him. 

Upon hearing his father's answer, Charles walked over to his mother. ''Maman,'' he tapped her waist, having her bow down to be on the same level as him, ''can I bring Y/N with me on the podium? Papa says it's okay.'' 

Pascale glanced at her daughter for a few seconds, checking if she still had energy left. ''Of course, but be careful, okay? She's small.'' She agreed, nodding at Hervé who was looking at them. 

''Thank you.'' Charles thanked her, skipping back to his father. 

The mother of the family approached her oldest and youngest child, gently grabbing his shoulder. ''Ma petite, Cha wants to take you on the podium with him. Isn't that fun?'' 

The youngest's mouth made an o-shape, bewildered by the news. ''Really? Wow!'' 

''Yes! So let's put you down.'' Lorenzo kneeled, letting his little sister stand on her own two feet. As soon as she was stable on the ground, she ran off to Charles. 

''Cha Cha!'' Y/N exclaimed, catching her brother's attention. ''I'm going on podium with you.'' 

''I know! Just follow me, okay? I'll help you.'' He told her, not wanting her to get distracted and do something she shouldn't do. 

''Okay!'' She gave her brother a thumbs up with a bright smile. 

It didn't take long for the various ceremonies to start, but the Leclerc Family had to wait until the end since Charles participated in the oldest age category at the competition. 

''In second place, we have Pierre Gasly of France! Well done, Pierre!'' The presenter said into the microphone, inviting the French boy onto the podium. 

The family clapped for him as he strutted over to the second step, accepting the trophy and flowers he was handed. 

''And our winner of the day is Charles Leclerc of Monaco! Congratulations, Charles!'' 

The race winner grabbed his sister's hand, and unlike Arthur, walked on her pace to the podium so she wouldn't have to run next to him. He momentarily let go of her hand as the presenter handed over his trophy and flowers. Charles gave the trophy to Y/N, being less heavy than the bouquet of flowers. 

Charles stepped onto the top step with ease, meanwhile his baby sister struggled with her small legs to even get onto the third step. 

Pierre immediately noticed. He placed his trophy and flowers on the ground, and signalled to the girl to walk over to him. He picked her up and placed her next to Charles, who thanked his friend for helping his sister out. 

The Monégasque crouched down. ''Y/N, look at Maman.'' Charles pointed at their mother, who had a big smile on her face as she held her camera. Upon seeing Pascale smile, Little Leclerc mirrored her mother's expression- proud of the trophy she was holding, despite it being her brother's. 

The rest of the family watched on fondly, the sight of the small girl swooning everyone. ''She's going to steal that trophy from his room.'' Lorenzo told Hervé, chuckling at the way his baby sibling was holding onto the plastic prize. 

''Charles will let her.'' The patriarch grinned, knowing his son would take the trophy away from her. 

After a few minutes of posing for pictures, the ceremony was done and they made their way back to their families. 

''Pierre, you are a gentleman.'' Pascale complimented the young boy, ruffling his hair. 

He shyly glanced down at the praise. ''No problem.'' Pierre brushed off, his mother pinching his reddened cheek. 

The giddy toddler jumped in Lorenzo's arms, still a strong hold on Charles's trophy. ''Look what Cha gave me, Lolo.'' She showed the prize off to her brother. 

''Wow! You have a trophy? How cool!'' Lorenzo told her, excitedly. 

''Can we get ice-cream now, please?'' Arthur whined, having everyone look at the young boy. There was an adorable, impatient tone to his voice, making both families smile at him. 

The parents all glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement that they should start packing up, and go have dinner. 

''I'm going to get 5 scoops!'' Arthur declared. 

''I'm going to get 6 then!'' His sister one-upped him, mischief written all over her face. 

''Y/N gets 2. Arthur gets 3, and Charles and Pierre will get to choose since they got a podium together.'' Hervé stated, chuckling at his two youngest's disappointed faces. 

The little girl huffed. ''But Papa, I want 6!'' 

''You're like 6 scoops tall, how are you gonna eat all of that?'' 

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[isimpfortoomanypeople]

I loved your high school sweethearts imagine and I was hoping if you could do that with Nate jacobs? But like Nate and the reader have 3 kids ( 2 boys 1 girl the girl being the youngest) and the reader is pregnant again with another boy so like the little girl is Nate’s little princess? :)

Till death do us part- Nate Jacobs x female reader

Spending your high school years in an off and on again relationship wasn’t how you would imagine high school to be. 7years later your best friend Lexi invites you to her engagement party, now the real question is are you and Nate still together?

Warnings: the reader and Nate having a bad relationship in high school, brief smut MDI (I needed it to set the beginning of the story), alcohol, mentions of Cal, toxic masculinity (for context wise Maddy didn’t date Nate in this) super fluffy Nate towards the end

A/N: aww thanks I’m glad that you loved high school sweethearts. I loved writing this, and it maybe a little bit self indulgent by having Lexi and Maddy being the reader’s best friends as they are my favourite characters. This is my first Euphoria fic so I hope that you enjoy it and I’ve done it justice. Sorry if some parts sound over British as I’m from the U.K. apologises for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

You gasped for air rolling your eyes into the back of your head as Nate thrusted into you, moaning your name as he spilt his seed across your velvety walls.

You both panted as you recovered from your climax. Nate lifted his fingers brushing away the strands of hair that clutch to your forehead from the exhaustion you’ve just experienced. He pulled out of you, you both whimpered from the lack of contact.

“This shouldn’t happen again”

“Babe you say this every time”

You panted trying to regain your breath. Trying your hardest to regulate your breathing into a normal rhythm. Nate knew how to make you feel so good to the point that you were putty in his hands.

But you’ve been broken up for over 2 months you should allow yourself to move on but it’s hard when Nate narrows his eyes, locking you in his gaze swatting off all men that ever showed the slightest bit of interest in you.

You broke up for a reason as he was the biggest asshole you had ever met, he was controlling but yet you couldn’t let go. For Nate is a siren drawing you to your untimely death. With a face as pretty as his, he could make the grey thrashing waters appear blue and tranquil. One thing about Nate Jacobs was once you were under his spell it was impossible to escape.

“I mean it Nate, we’re supposed to be over. I can’t move on when you scare off every man who shows me the slightest bit of attention. I’m not yours anymore you have to let me go” you sighed, allowing your head to slump into the plush pillow of your bed. Pinching the bridge of your nose, praying that he actually got the message this time, not continuing this nauseating game of cat and mouse which had been happening for weeks with you always ending up underneath him.

“Babe..” his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped protectively over your body. Almost chaining you to the spot, limiting your movements, hoping to silence your following words.

“Nate I mean it. Please you’re going to have to let me go-“ your words were cut short by Nate throwing you out of his embrace, as if your body was a poison that burnt him to touch. He scurried around your room collecting his clothes from the heap on the floor , as when you were both deeply in the throes of lust to care where they ended up, you just needed the clothes off your body as soon as possible.

Nate made a point of crashing his foot upon the wooden floorboards with each step he took, over exaggerating how pissed off he truly was. Like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

His eyes couldn’t bare to look at yours, his jaw clenched so tightly together that a vein pulsed on the side of his forehead.

He said nothing as he exited your room, the only sound that broke the deafening silence was the loud slam of your door. You flinched upon hearing the loud slam and the rattle of the metal hinges, he slammed it with such ferocity you were amazed that your door was still in tack.

Safe to say that Nate got the message, he was finally going to leave you alone. You could finally move on, you wanted this right? So why does your heart feel like it’s crumbling into tiny pieces? Why are tears pouring down your face? And why do you feel empty, so incredibly empty and alone?

Y/N: I finally did it, he got the message. I can’t help but feel like I’ve made a mistake

Maddy: honey no, you haven’t made a mistake Nate Jacobs is a toxic asshole. He should of treated you right but he never did, it’s his loss to loose such an amazing person

Lexi: Y/N I agree with Maddie, don’t you ever let him make you feel like this was a mistake. You deserve way better and you can do way better

Y/N: why do I feel like this is a mistake though? I still love him and girls this hurts, this really fucking hurts

Lexi: oh Y/N :( I know it’s hard but you will get through this. I’ll be there in 5

Y/N: Lexi I can’t ask you to do that as you’re going on a date with Fez tonight

Lexi: too late I’m on my way, my girl needs me

Maddy: I’ll be there in 15, Ive snuck a bottle of my parents wine

Y/N: I love you guys so much <;3

The rest of the weekend was spent either pouring your heart out to your two friends, while Maddy continued to pour you drinks to help numb the pain. The pain didn’t lessen as each drink only made the hot tears come down like a torrential down pour. You couldn’t talk without your words becoming slurred by the overwhelming grief you felt for knowing that Nate is officially out of your life, but also from the copious amount of booze Maddy was supplying you with.

The two girls nodded sympathetically when they were needed to be, swigging back the bottle to try to conceal their true emotions about the situation. They were secretly overjoyed that you and that toxic asshole were no more.

They reassured you that it was the best thing to do, Lexi allowing you to curl up on your bed with your head in her lap. She stroked your hair, telling you that it was okay, not caring that your tears was dampening her jeans.

By the following Saturday the two were able to convince you to go to a party, claiming that this is the perfect way to finally get over him.

“Oh my fucking god! Y/N you look stunning!” Maddy gasped as you entered her bedroom, wearing her pastel blue dress , it just about covered your ass and boobs. But then again Maddy wouldn’t wear anything that left anything to the imagination, but if you have even an ounce of the confidence Maddy exudes you would too.

She wondered towards you and sprayed your whole body with a bottle of perfume , you had to take a step back as the floral smell was making you light headed. She moved your chin with her index finger admiring her handy work, she did the most intricate blue eyeliner with stick on pearls to truly accentuate your eyes.

“You look so hot” Maddy smirk lifting a shot glass full of clear liquid to your face. Weakly smiling as you shot back the glass that felt like it could have been filled with straight ethanol from your visceral reaction.

She whipped her phone out from her right pocket, holding you close to her as she angled her phone to capture you both in the most flattering angle. Maddie pouted her lips tilting her head to face yours, so unsure what to do in this situation that you followed precisely what Maddy did. She posted the photo on her story adding a caption saying “single and ready to mingle”

You reposted the photo on your story and not even a second after posting you swiped up out of curiosity to see who had viewed your story, straight away you saw

@nate.jacobs has viewed your story. Rolling your eyes, you threw your phone in your purse. Ready to forget about him for the night.

“You look amazing y/n” Lexi smiled bringing you into her embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Thanks lex you too”

“Lex told me about you and Nate, I’m sorry about that. He’s an asshole and I have no problem punching him again if you need to” fez offered as he patted you on the shoulder. His jaw clenched as he said Nate’s name, swallowing down the anger he has for him.

“Thanks fez, as much as I’d love to see him with a bloodied nose again, I don’t think that will be necessary-“

As you finished your sentence it dwindled away into thin air as you locked eyes with Nate, who had his arm tightly wrapped around the shoulders of Cassie. When his eyes met yours, he placed a kiss to Cassie’s temple, as if to wound you for wounding him. He quickly looked away as they both walked towards the kitchen to search for something to drink.

You felt your body shaking in a mixture of anger and despair. Every mussel in your body strained as you were trying to contain yourself from punching Nate yourself.

Fuck you Nate Jacobs!

“Y/N are you okay-“

“Lex did you know?”

“No I didn’t Y/N I swear, I’m so sorry” Lexi desperately called after you but it was too late, as you slammed the front door behind you.

You leant against the side of the house, letting the tears you’ve been holding in slide down your face. You didn’t want to give Nate the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

It was a mistake you showing up tonight

—————————————————————————-

Y/N it’s me Lexi, I firstly want to apologise for losing contact with you after graduation. It was hard with you moving to college and I was dealing with Fez’s arrest and the death of ash. But I saw your mom when I was grocery shopping and she gave me your new number. Me and Fez got engaged, can you believe it? He proposed last week at this fancy restaurant. I wanted to invite you to our engagement party this Saturday. You can bring a plus one if you’re dating someone, I can’t wait to see you as I miss you.

“Who’s that babe?”

“Lexi just texted me, she’s inviting us to her and Fez’s engagement party this Saturday”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s not exactly my biggest fan” Nate sighed, as he sunk down the couch beside you. Placing his hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles on the fleshy part of your thigh. He chewed his lip as he was overthinking about every possible way this party could end in disaster.

You were the only one who could vouch that he wasn’t the same Nate Jacobs he was in high school. While they were all left with the bitter taste of his name in their mouths, despising the person he once was.

—————————————————————————-

“Y/N you coming to the graduation party?” Maddy asked, readjusting her cap that tilted to the side of her head, slightly messing up her perfectly styled curls.

“100%”

“Great come to mine for 8, Lexi and I are pregaming before our final ever high school party” Maddie squealed in excitement over the big day, you both are finally going to leave East Highland behind. She pressed her glossed lips on your cheek before running off to get some more pictures before the school kicked you out.

“Y/N can we talk?”

Your body stiffened momentarily, your nostrils flared as you forced yourself to breathe. Rolling your eyes as you prepared yourself to engage in conversation with the one person who you really didn’t want to speak to right now.

“I don’t have anything to say to you” you sighed, not even turning your back to look at him

“Y/N please?” Nate’s voice quivered as he was trying to compose his emotions. He was having an internal battle, he wanted to get on his knees begging for you to hear him out, but his dismissive tough outer exterior was telling him to run away to save his pride.

You turned around to face him, you could feel your eyes prick with tears as you look deep into his.

“What did you want to say?” You tried your damn hardest to sound cold with a dash of hostility, but looking in his eyes opened that part of your heart that you tried to kill. The part of your heart that still loves him. Looking into his deep hazel eyes it brought back all the emotions you tried to suppress.

Nate took a deep breath and swallowed down all the negative thoughts that tried to sway him from confessing how he truly feels. It’s hard when you’ve grew up with an emotionally absent, extremely toxic farther, that it’s hard to express your true emotions. His farther taught him how to only express anger, that men don’t allow themselves to cry, men speak with their fists or with their dicks. Cal was so heavily blinded by toxic masculinity that he couldn’t see the effect it has on his own son, or that he simply didn’t care. The most “love” he ever received from his dad was a pat on his back after he won a football game.

“I’m sorry” he pressed his lips into a thin line, closing his eyes to contain his tears. He felt his breathing hitch, being emotionally vulnerable felt uncomfortable that every part of him was screaming at him not to continue further. But he pushed all this down for you, he loves you and he can’t picture a life where you’re not in it.

“Nate I-“

“Please let me speak, I need to say this now otherwise it will eat me alive till the day I die” Nate choked back a sob as he forced these words out of his mouth.

You looked at him with confusion, you’ve never seen Nate in your whole relationship being so vulnerable as he is right now. You nodded your head, holding your breath awaiting what he had to say.

“I’m truly sorry Y/N. I truly fucked up, I have no excuse for the way I treated you. I can see you walking out of my life and I’m scared, I love you and I’m scared that you hate me. I won’t blame you if you do, I don’t deserve you, you were always too good for me. Ever since I called the cops on my dad, I realised that I’m turning into my worst fear, I’m turning into him. I hurt you so badly and I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. My dad was a worthless piece of shit, I believed that I had to grow in his shadow, I had to be the man he wanted me to be, so I hurt those I love because I’m so used to anger that I don’t know how to express how I feel about you. But I do love you, I love the sound of your laugh, I love waking up next to you, I love how you can make this shitty world okay” Nate’s body convulsed as each sob coursed through his body.

He couldn’t hold his tears back anymore as they slid down his face, he buried his face within his hands, hiding the tears from you. He felt a small sense of humiliation about you seeing him like this, he could hear his father’s voice ringing through his ears telling him how pathetic he was for shedding a single tear. But he didn’t care as right now he could possibly lose the love of his life forever and that scared him more than any tears would.

You looked at him with concern as your heart broke to see him so fragile, his body shaking as his hands muffled the series of ‘please don’t leave me, I love you” escaping from his lips. In your whole relationship you have never seen Nate cry, to the point that you believed that he was incapable of feeling such intense sorrow. In this moment in time you saw the fragile broken side of him that never sees the light of day.

Yes he broke your heart but you still loved him, humanity in itself is never black and white, we’re all intricate human beings with flaws and scars and Nate was no exception to this. He was flawed and broken but he also made you feel like you were the most beautiful person whenever his eyes fell upon you, how he could make all of your problems slip away into thin air whenever you were wrapped in his warm embrace.

Fuck you still loved him!, you were willing to give him a second chance. Sure there’s a lot to work upon to have even an ounce of what you once had, but if Nate was serious about what he had just said he’d gladly put in the work.

“Baby” you called out to him, just as you expected he remained where he was, still trembling with his face buried within his hands.

You stepped towards him and gently peeled back his hands to reveal his tear stained face. He looked at you with his eyes filled heavy with a deep sadness. You wiped away a hot tear that fell down his cheek with your thumb, placing a kiss where the tear used to be.

“Okay, you fucked up badly. You hurt me, but I can’t help but love you. Even when my heart was breaking I still loved you. When I once drunkenly told you that I couldn’t imagine a future without you in it, I still mean every word. But baby if we’re going to work I need you to prove to me that you’d never hurt me this badly again because my heart can’t take another heart break. I want to give us another chance, but please promise me baby that you will do anything to make us work again?”

“I will I promise, I love you Y/N. Thank you, I don’t deserve you” he weakly chuckled as new tears flooded down his cheek. He gently kissed your forehead, as he pulled you into his arms, inhaling your perfume that he had missed for it was the only thing in his life that brought him any form of comfort.

“Don’t make me regret this baby” you whispered

“I would rather die than to ever make that happen” he whispered back to you, placing another tender kiss against your forehead. Smiling for the first time in days that the love of his life was finally back in his arms.

———————————————————————————

Lexi sighed as she got Fez to rearrange the silver banner which read ‘happy engagement’ for what felt like the hundredth time.

“A little to your left Fez, it’s still off centre” she groaned, massaging the stress out of her temples.

“Look angel , no one is going to care if the banner isn’t exactly central” Fez groaned, his back is aching from arching it to place the banner exactly where his fiancé wanted it.

“Why don’t you get yourself a glass of rosé and try to relax?” He soothed, massaging her shoulders that became raised from her over thinking. He kissed the side of her cheek as he felt her shoulders release.

“I know, it’s just that I want tonight to be perfect, everyone will be here. Plus Y/N will be here who I haven’t seen in forever, sorry babe it’s just that it’s been a lot of stress for me” she pouted, chewing on the inside of her cheek from overthinking the entire party.

“I know angel, but trust me tonight is going to be great. And fuck it if it’s not for I’m finally engaged to the hottest woman I have ever met who made me the luckiest man in the entire world” Fez smiled as he turned Lexi to look at him, he lifted her head to look at him as he brought her Into a passionate kiss.

“I love you” Lexi breathed after she had to pull away from the lack of oxygen to her lungs

“I love you too”

The two lovers were interrupted by a loud knock at the door, the person behind the door was growing impatient by the second as the door was rattling against its hinges.

Lexi rolled her eyes, growing more frustrated by the person’s persistence. When she opened the door she was met by her sister wearing a skin tight baby pink dress, barely covering her ass.

“Wow Cas you look good?” Lexi stuttered upon seeing her older sister so dolled up, Lexi snickered as she joked, “dressing for anyone special?”

“Nate could be here” Cassie smirked as she soothed down the limiting fabric of her dress

“Excuse me?”

“Last thing I heard was that Y/N dated Nate in college, if by some miracle that they’re still together, I’ll show him what he’s been missing” Cassie stated, as she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders making a beeline for the kitchen for something to drink.

Fez noticed how Cassie flounced in here without acknowledging the two hosts or why the party was arranged in the first place. He rolled his eyes as he brought his beer to his lips.

“Remind me why you invited her?”

“She’s my sister, plus she’s delusional that Nate will be here” Lexi groaned also rolling her eyes, they say that you can’t choose your family but it’s moments like this that Lexi wish that she could

Plus her sister was full of shit, there was no way that you would ever give Nate Jacobs a second chance right?

As more guest arrived they all congratulated the happy couple and wished them both a lifetime of happiness.

Rue stood in the corner listening to Kat as she told her about her newest work in progress. Rue is gladly 7 years sober from all substances, she’s done so well that she now helps out at the local clinics that once saved her life. Rue rarely dated after her relationship with Jules, needing to find her feet and especially within her sobriety. She had finally healed the relationship with her mom and younger sister.

Kat on the other hand became a successful author, writing about steamy erotic stories which soon made her the best selling author of that genre. Fans go wild over her books, claiming her to be the queen of smut. Kat finally found the confidence she thought that she lost in herself and for once was truly happy in her skin.

Ethan spent a large majority of the party catching up with Lexi as he just came back from tour. Unsurprisingly Ethan found his love of acting through being in Lexi’s iconic play. He studied at Juilliard where he became an up and coming Broadway talent, he recently came off tour with Dear Evan Hansen and was happy to be home for a few days. Though he has been avoiding Kat all throughout the party like the plague, some wounds will never heal.

Jules arrived to the party with Kat who were still good friends and kept in touch regularly. Jules became a therapist helping queer and trans kids, she became an activist for trans rights and in result gained a huge Instagram following. Jules used what she went through in the past to help those she can, believing that no one should experience the trauma she had faced alone.

Cassie stood leaning against the wall watching the door like a hawk, every few minutes readjusting her hair or applying another layer of

Gloss, determined that Nate was going to walk through that door. Lexi and Cassie’s relationship was rocky, but for the sake of the family Lexi invited her here tonight.

Lexi felt her heart drop as she checked the time on her phone, you were officially an hour late. The guilt started to eat her alive as she twirled the pretty diamond ring that laid upon her finger. She drummed her fingers against her thigh trying to relieve her anxiety that was raging through her body. Her brain went into overdrive, imagining all the ways that you probably hate her for loosing touch. She kept on staring at the wooden frame praying for it to knock at any second.

———————————————————————————

“Okay you can choose one toy each” Nate stated at Harrison, Noah and Lilly who were sat crossed legged on the floor of their playroom with multiple toys strewn around the room.

“But daddy Rosie needs Daisy” Lilly pouted as she held up two princess dolls from the same set, she gave Nate her best puppy dog eyes and quivered her bottom lip.

It took Nate less than five seconds to cave into Lilly’s cute pouting face which made his heart melt. Nate swears that she gets it from her mother. Lilly truly was Nate’s little princess and dangerously he was wrapped around her little finger.

“Fine” Nate sighed “only two”

The three kids let out a laughter of glee as they reached for another toy.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked resting your head in the crook of Nate’s neck, wrapping your arms around him pulling him closer to you. It must be your hormones or Nate’s irresistible nature that made this pregnancy resulting in yourself to be attached to his hip, you became more clingier but Nate found that adorable. Especially when you pouted at him if he hasn’t given you enough affection, Nate wouldn’t change it for the world for he had the life he dreamt about, a beautiful wife and 3 happy healthy children with one more on the way

———————————————————————————

Lexi felt her heart flew out of her chest when she heard a knock at the door. She squealed loudly as she passed her glass to Fez, who was looking at his fiancé with a bewildered expression from her sudden outburst. Her body shaking with delight as she practically launched herself at the door.

Maddy saw Lexi’s commotion and quickly followed suit with her face beaming over the thought of seeing you again.

“I missed you-“

The two women’s eyes grew wide as they looked at your stomach that was carrying your fourth child. Lexi cupped her hands over her mouth and squealed again in delight.

“Congratulations Y/N who’s the lucky guy?”

“My husband-“

“Oh my god! You’re married?” Maddy smiled as she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, but not tight enough as she was weary of your bump. Maddy was overjoyed that you are finally in a healthy relationship ever since the shit show her and Lexi had to endure in high school, the two were so used to seeing you in tears with a broken heart. It warms her heart that you look happier and you were practically glowing, pregnancy really did suit you.

Lexi shared the same feeling of elation for you but she was momentarily sad when she found out that you were married, not that she wasn’t happy for you but she wished that she could of been their to celebrate your big day with you. Well at least you can now attend hers.

3 kids came running up behind you, your twins Harrison are Noah were 7 while Lilly was 5. Lexi and Maddy waved at the three kids, gushing about how cute they were and how much they all looked like their mom. Both women were crouched down listening intently as each kid introduced their toys to them, laughing as Lexi and Maddy shook their hands and welcomed the extra guests to the party.

When Maddy looked up to you, her smiled faltered as she choked on the air overcome with shock from who just appeared and placed a kiss on your cheek. Lexi looked at Maddie eyes wide with confusion till she turn to look in the same direction, Lexi rapidly started blinking not fully processing what she’s just witnessed.

You and Nate Jacobs were still together! Not only that but you were married to him with kids.

None of the pieces were adding up in their heads, they were completely baffled by the entire encounter. Last time they saw you, you were crying over him hating him for breaking your heart. So what the hell has changed for you to look totally infatuated by him?

—————————————————————————-

After you graduated from university Nate proposed with a beautiful delicate diamond ring. Saying that you were the love of his life and the only one for him.

You both had a small private wedding reserved for only close family and friends, for you wanted your big day to be spent with those who you loved. You did wish that Lexi and Maddy could be there but you all loss contact so it was impossible to contact them.

You both moved far away from LA as possible, both wanting a fresh start and especially when Cal was allegeable for parole. Nate wanted to be far away from him as possible, especially a few months after the wedding you fell pregnant with twins. Nate wanted to live somewhere safe with his family and to be the farther he never got to your twins (and Lilly who came two years later and baby Jamie who is now on the way).

He became a football coach at the local high school and you worked in the art department. It was sweet that you both worked in the same place which meant that you could have cute lunch dates together away from your kids as much as you loved them.

Nate was a great farther he was nothing like his dad, he was kind and patient. Completely different to his former high school self, where he didn’t know how to communicate his emotions. They built up inside of him till it came out into this fiery rage that could make anyone’s blood run cold, so unused to feel love so when he felt it he felt like he needed to push them away as he believed he was unworthy of feeling such a thing.

Seeing the way he was acting was hurting you, the love of his life. Watching you nearly walk out of his life was the worst pain he had ever felt, it felt suffocating, like every part of him was breaking. That he knew he had to change, and he wanted to change if it meant that he could keep you in his life.

Yes it was hard for him to begin with but he slowly let down his guard, the one his farther installed in him to make him ‘more of a man’ even though it made him seem cold. He started to let you in, he started to communicate about his feelings rather than to wait till they reached boiling point.

Nate was a doting husband, he brought you flowers every Friday and hires a sitter just so you two can have your regular date nights. He loved you with all his heart and never missed an opportunity to show that to you. You were both finally happy. —————————————————————————-

“I can’t believe he’s changed?” Lexi exclaimed lifting her glass to her lips, still in complete shock over what she’s just heard.

“I love you Y/N but he was a dick in high school I’m having a hard time believing that he’s such a loving husband” Maddy added watching in amazement as Nate sat with his children on the floor. Laughing with them and joining in their make believe game, watching as Lilly giggled with glee as her dad gently kissed her on the cheek.

“I know if I wasn’t married to him I’d have a hard time believing that too. But I truly couldn’t ask for a better husband, the smallest things make me nauseous nowadays. So Nate now carries water, mints and ginger tea incase I need it”

“Stop it that is too cute” Maddie gasped.

Both her and Lexi shared a look, maybe they were both wrong about Nate Jacobs? Seeing you so content ,watching how good he is with the kids and how he looks at you like you are the most beautiful girl in the world (which caused Cassie to roll her eyes and huff in annoyance seeing how in love with you he was). Nate Jacobs was your perfect match.

“So Y/N I wanted to ask if you would be my maid of honour at my wedding”

“Oh my god Lexi, yes I will” you smiled as you quickly pulled her into a warm embrace.

“I need my best friend there on my big day and it wouldn’t be the same without you”

They say that the best love is fast and intense, maybe that was true to your high school self. But the true, real kind of love was consistent and giving, forever holding onto that initial spark. Now you know exactly what that love felt like as you found that in Nate.

A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this fic. I’d had to make Ethan an actor especially after his incredible performance as Nate in the play. He also gives me dear Evan Hansen vibes I don’t know why. My requests are still open and I’m currently working through all of them

[swanawil]

"Be my valentine"

~| Valentines Special 💝

"What the fuck is your problem," Adam groaned. You had pushed him away when he had tried to initiate fun time.

You scoffed, getting off of the couch.

"You act like I'm some telepathic freak or something!" He called after you as you moved into the bedroom. "I can't read your mind!"

No answer.

"Y/n!" He exclaimed for you.

No answer.

"Hey! I know damn well you hear me!" He looked at the open door of your bedroom.

No answer.

"It's Valentines day!" He told you like you didn’t already know, "C'mon aren't you supposed to be like.. All lovely dovey or whatever?"

No answer. Adam scowled. He let the silence sit for a moment as he turned forward again. A stubborn and annoyed air about him.

He groaned rather loudly, sounding like a toddler having a temper tantrum.

Adam begrudgingly pushed himself off the couch, grumbling as he did. "Fine, be a bitch then. I'll just come to you, you little shit.."

Adam looked at you. You were sat on the corner of the bed, your back to him. He could tell you were gripping the edge of the bed pretty hard. But he couldn't see your expression.

Adam sighed loudly and dramatically. He saw your shoulders tense a bit. "What do I have to do?"

You looked over your shoulder at him. You didn't say anything. He stood silent, his arms crossed, and an annoyed scowl on his face.

"At least tell me what I fuckin' did!" You scoffed again.

"More like what you didn’t do.." You grumbled.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Adam asked, looking at you bewildered.

You finally looked at him, a glare fixed on your face. "You didn't ask me something very simple."

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about!" He told you frustratedly. You stood from the bed, turning to fully look at him.

"It's so fucking easy to guess, Adam!" You yelled back.

"Why are you so difficult!" He yelled.

It was just a back and forth between the two of you. Both of you just yelling at each other in your own stubborn frustrations.

"Why didn't you ask me to be your valentine!" You finally yelled. And that silenced both of you.

Adam stood there, his eyes wide. He was taken aback. But slowly, a wide smirk of amusement came to his face.

"So that's what this is about?" He asked. You blushed in embarrassment, looking to the floor. "Really, that's why you got all bitchy on me?"

Adam let out a chuckle as he stepped forward. He grabbed you and pushed you onto the bed before climbing on top of you and pinned you down.

You stared up at him, cheeks colored. You tried to keep a glare on your face, but it faltered.

"C'mon, hotstuff," he chuckled, "I thought it was a granted you were my valentine considering you get to have my dick in you whenever you want."

"You still have to ask.." You grumbled softly, looking away.

Adam rolled his eyes, "fine, whatever," he sighed. "Be my valentine, hotstuff. I'll give you a night to remember," he winked down at you with that arrogant toothy grin that was normal for him.

You couldn’t even help the smile that grew on your face, even if he had added a lewd comment on the end of it.

You reached up, quickly winding your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"I'll be your valentine," you told him softly, the same smile still on your face.

"Finally happy?" He asked. You hummed, nodding in the crook of his neck. "Fuckin' finally," he sighed, putting a hand on the small of your back.

[mychlapci]

Hopping on the mommy TFA Ratchet train. (I do hate brat behavior, they deserve punishment. And Optimus deserves to get some of Ratchet's milk too.)

Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee are the youngest of the team. Sure OP acts older, but he's still much closer to Bulk and Bee's age range than Prowl. Prowl doesn't need the milk like they do, Bulkhead is getting his milk through bottles, but Bee is so damn greedy that Optimus can't get a single drop!

Optimus tries to rationalize it, "I'm a full grown bot, I don't need it", "bee and bulk need it more than me", "we have plenty of other fuel, I'm fine." But he's decidedly not fine. He gets more and more cranky, fuel tastes weird now, like something is off, he watches as Bee nurses with jealousy in his optics.

Bee is throwing a full blown temper tantrum about Ratchet preping bottles for the others when Optimus walks in. He then goes off on him instead, goading and rubbing in his face that Ratchet's milk is his and his alone. He only stops once Ratchet orders him to. That snaps Bee out of it real quick. He turns back to Optimus expecting to be scolded for talking to his leader like that only for him to feel even worse by seeing that Optimus is at the brink of tears. It wasn't just Bee's tantrum or words that caused it, his behavior triggered the reminder of how Sentinel would treat Optimus. Being selfish, arrogant, gloating about things he has and Optimus doesn't. He never expected his own teammates to act like that, especially since they know how Sentinel affects him. He walks away without a word and Bee meekly turns back around to look at Ratchet. He sits serenely on the table patting his lap, his chest plates are closed, and his field betrays the fury that his face does not.

Bee gets the punishment of a lifetime, only a little lessened if only because of the genuine regret he felt and his compliance.

Bee limps to Optimus' room an hour or so later. He's just about to knock when he hears a very harsh rumble of a powerful engine and the whine of vents from strain. He peeks inside only to see Optimus laying on his side, nearly motionless save for the tremors his engine causes, and his finials clicked back to the farthest setting. Bee realizes the strain in his vents is from him staying quiet. Their fearless leader... is crying! Bee feels guilt hit him harder than any of Ratchet's spanks, he really did screw up huh? Was he really that selfish? Taking a few minutes to steel himself, he opens the door and knocks quietly. The engine stalls quickly.

"Yes?" Primus, even Optimus' voice sounds bad.

"Ratchet wants to see you in the med-bay, Bossbot." Bee says, clearly and enunciated, but still meek and quiet.

A loud angry growl came from Optimus, and the distinct click of his battle mask engaging. He turns his helm to look at Bee, but a moment later the growl shifts to a slightly softer, more agitated than angry, pitch. "Very well, I'll be there in a few minutes. You are dismissed."

Bee only nods and absconds quickly, running off to find Bulkhead and Sari. He knows Optimus doesn't want to hear an apology right now, but they deserve one.

Optimus arrives at the med-bay 20 minutes later, after having cleaned himself up first. Ratchet has finished preping the bottles and turns to greet him.

"There you are, come here."

Optimus approaches slowly, "I'm sorry about earlier, I should have just-"

"No, don't apologize. I already handled it. I told Bee to go get you and send you to me, if anything he should be apologizing to you."

"I'm fine, Ratchet, it's really not a big deal-"

"Oh really?" He puts his hands on his hips, "not a big deal, ey? Not a big deal that you were driven to the point of tears by a toddler of a mech? Not a big deal that I've seen that look on your face when a certain Chin-the-size-of-his-ego Prime belittles you? I made sure to point that particular comparison out to Bee during his punishment, especially considering his own hatred of the mech. Really took him down a couple pegs."

"Ratchet, I'm a grown mech and there's plenty of fuel around, I can deal without-"

"What? My milk? The milk that you are so painfully craving and jealous of Bumblebee and Bulkhead over? They are grown mechs too, but the three of you are still young and growing. You're also far closer in age to each other than you are to me or Prowl. Hell, Prowl doesn't even need my milk and he's gotten more of it than you! You! Someone who actually needs it!"

Ratchet turned around and sat on the berth, "now come here, Prime," he opens his chest plates and lets his still leaky titties out. Optimus practically starts drooling. "You need this as much as the others do."

Optimus hesitantly crawls into Ratchets lap, "are you sure? I- I can have-?"

"Oh shuddup and suck."

Optimus is forcefully fed Ratchet's nossle, plush lips wrapped around it carefully as he sucked. But soon he began to relax, until his whole frame sagged against Ratchet's, greedily sucking down the milk he craved for weeks now. His engine idled at a soft and smooth purr.

"That's it, bittie, take as much as you need, you've been so sorely neglected recently, after all. Momma's gonna take good care of you."

my wet nurse propaganda is only furthered by this. young bots need their milk, there’s no helping it, it’s why Ratchet was sent with the repair crew in the first place. Optimus pretending he doesn’t need the milk is just foolish… He might be older than Bumblebee or Bulkhead, but he’s still well within the breastfeeding range… 

This is the only time Bumblebee can use his young age to his advantage, insisting that as the youngest he can drink as much milk as he wants to, and he absolutely abuses the hell out of this fact. Ratchet doesn’t actually care at first, he’s just doing his job and if Bee wants to be pushy, he can ignore it... but then... Poor Optimus… it’s all a little too much. Stuck on a foreign planet, saddled with responsibility, and not getting any milk at all? He’s really putting himself through it. He needs some care from momma...

[maddiethedogstories]

The Playdate - 2

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

It only took a few more minutes before Mia emerged back in the kitchen holding Sasha's hand and looking like a toddler ready to go to church. Mia's face was as red as a tomato.

Lisa gasped in delight as her girlfriend walked into the room. "Mia! You look absolutely adorable!" She exclaimed.

Sasha raised the hand holding Mia's and twisted it, forcing the other woman to twirl and show off all sides of her outfit to the room.

"What do you think, Tammy? Isn't Little Mia beautiful?" Sasha asked Tammy who, Mia noticed to her chagrin, had a purple ring around her mouth from the grape juice she had drank from a normal, plastic cup.

"Yeth, Mommy! Mia's sooooo pretty! She lookth wike one of my baby dollies!" Tammy yelled out enthusiastically.

"Little Mia even agrees with us, don't you Mia? You were just telling me how you want your Mommy to buy you more pretty dresses just like this one, right?" Sasha said.

Lisa raised her eyebrow. That didn't sound like her Mia, who would refuse to wear anything that looked like it was meant to be worn by anyone younger than a kindergartener. But, to her surprise and delight, Mia quickly confirmed Sasha's statement.

"Yes, Miss Sasha. This is a very pretty dress. I would like to have more just like it," Mia said reluctantly, blushing at having to speak the words.

Lisa stopped and pondered the statement for a moment. Was this Mia's way of telling her she wanted to regress further without outright admitting it?

Sasha spoke next, "Well, that's perfect! Since this dress is too little for Tammy, you can have this one to start your collection!"

Lisa beamed in delight. "How wonderful! Mia, what do you tell Miss Sasha for her generosity?" Lisa asked as Tammy took another messy drink of her juice.

Mia turned to Sasha, looking up at her, before politely saying, "Thank you for the pretty dress, Miss Sasha."

"You're welcome, little one! Now, let's get you some juice! You were thirsty when you got here; I'm sure you're parched now!" Sasha said as she headed back into the kitchen.

Lisa stopped her short, though. "Don't worry, I already have it handled." She reached over to a counter and grabbed, to Mia's horror, an extra-large baby bottle full of milk, not juice.

"Mommy! No! I'm a big girl!" Mia cried out in horror as her girlfriend offered her the bottle. Sasha had to cover a giggle as Mia, now looking more like a toddler than Tammy, had yet another emotional outburst.

"It's this or nothing, Mia. You already proved you aren't ready for a big girl glass with your little spill. You also lost juice and sippy cup privileges by having a temper tantrum and lying about your accident. Do you want to make your punishment worse by throwing another one?" Lisa asked as she lectured her partner.

Mia stomped her foot once before getting control of her emotions again. "But, I'm not a baby," Mia muttered timidly, taking the offered bottle from her Mom's hand.

"Mia's a big baaaby! Not wike me! Me's a big giwl! I dwink wif a big giwl cup!" Tammy said, unhelpfully. Mia wanted to cry.

Sasha, of all people, surprisingly came to Mia's rescue.

"Tammy, that was not nice! Mia is just a little girl who had a little spill and a temper tantrum, that's all. You've had plenty of both. Tell Mia that you are sorry, or I will make you sorry, little miss!" Sasha said, rounding on Tammy.

The large baby-woman immediately backtracked. Lips stained with purple juice, Tammy immediately apologized. "Sowwy, Mia!" she chirped out.

Dressed in a baby dress and holding a baby bottle full of milk, the apology did nothing to fix Mia's wounded pride.

Sasha continued though, turning to Mia. "You know, the bottle's not that bad? It means you can take it to the playroom without having to worry about making a mess! Why don't you go play? I bet your Mama might even let you use your little tablet while you calm down," Sasha looked expectantly at Lisa as she spoke the last sentence.

Mia looked up expectantly at her girlfriend as well. At this point, she wanted nothing more than to go hide away with her tablet and pretend she was anywhere but here.

"I guess that's alright. But, I expect you to finish that bottle in the next 45 minutes. You aren't going to go into the playroom and conveniently forget to drink it. The bottle is a punishment, after all," Lisa said.

That affirmation was all Mia needed. "Okay, Mom," she responded before grabbing her tablet and headphones in the hand not occupied by the bottle, palming a piece of bubble gum, and running off to Tammy's playroom.

Once in the room, she found a large, pink bean bag chair to settle into. She puffed her skirt out so she could comfortably sit down and popped the gum in her mouth. She put her pink, cat-ear headphones on and turned on her favorite show, My Little Pony. She started to blow bubbles with her bubble gum and let all of her attention be drawn into her tablet as she shut out the rest of the room. Mia was so enthralled in her own little world that she didn't even notice Tammy come into the room shortly after her.

Mia finished a whole episode of her cartoon before she remembered she was supposed to be drinking her bottle. She let the second episode start playing as she reached for the cursed container, put the nipple to her lips, and started suckling. Mia didn't really know what to expect, having never used a bottle as an adult, but actually getting the milk out of the bottle was much harder than she had anticipated.

Frustrated with how slow she was drinking, she set the bottle back down, moved the gum out of the back corner of her mouth, and started mindlessly watching her tablet and popping her bubble gum again.

During this whole process, Mia never looked up from her tablet once, failing to pay attention to her surroundings at all. Unfortunately for Mia, if she had been paying attention, she probably would have noticed Tammy staring at her malevolently from another corner of the playroom. She also probably would have noticed the larger woman slip off her pull-up. Had she been paying even a modicum of attention, Mia definitely would have noticed the large woman advancing on her. Mia wasn't paying attention though, so, when Tammy grabbed Mia by the leg and dragged her off of the bean bag, Mia was taken completely by surprise.

As Tammy grabbed Mia, the bubble of gum the smaller woman was working on popped, getting all over Mia's face and effectively sealing her mouth shut. Tammy immediately sat down on Mia's crotch once the smaller woman was on the floor, easily pinning Mia down. Mia struggled against Tammy's weight, but quickly discovered she couldn't move.

Once Mia was detained, Tammy ham-fistedly grabbed some of the gum off of Mia's face and smeared it into one of the other woman's long, braided pigtails. Mia struggled to reach for her hair, still unable to open her mouth to protest due to the rest of the gum, as she felt a warm, wet sensation growing from her crotch. Mia's eyes widened as she felt Tammy pee directly onto her crotch.

Tammy looked down at Mia, laughing maniacally. "Oh no! Did Little Mia have an accident in her pretty little party dress?" Tammy asked rhetorically, letting her overgrown toddler act temporarily drop.

Mia stared up at Tammy with pleading eyes. What was happening? Why was this happening? Unable to speak, she tried to let her eyes do the talking. Tammy didn't respond to the panicked looks. Instead, she grabbed Mia's wrists, pinning her down further, scrunched her face up again, and let lose another stream of hot piss.

"Oh no! The little baby pissed herself again! And here I thought you were such a big girl! So much bigger than and superior to gross little Tammy? You don't feel so big now, do you now, Baby Mia?" Tammy continued her taunt her prey before grabbing the remaining gum from Mia's face and rubbing it into Mia's other braid.

Tears started to form in Mia's eyes as she finally found her mouth free. She started to wail. Tammy quickly climbed off of the smaller, crying woman, leaving her lying in a puddle of urine. She then ran over to the dry pull-up laying on the floor of the playroom, pulled it back on, and sat on the floor, pretending to play with her dolls.

It only took moments for Lisa and Sasha to come running into the room once Mia started crying. The small woman was sitting in the middle of a puddle of urine on the floor, pulling on the gum in her hair. The once white petticoats of the toddler dress she was wearing was yellowed from the urine to match the rest of the dress.

On seeing the mess Mia was sitting in, Lisa immediately put her hands on her hips and glared down at her charge.

"Mia Eileen! What is going on here?!" She yelled as she stormed across the room. Sasha remained in the doorway, looking at Mia with a knowing smile.

"Mommy!" Mia wailed as she pointed at Tammy, "I didn't wet my pants! She did! Baby Tammy did!"

Lisa reached down and grabbed Mia by the hand, forcefully pulling the small woman to her feet. She looked at the puddle on the floor, then bent Mia over at the waist, easily exposing the woman's drenched cotton princess panties, dress, and sewn-in petticoats.

"Tammy wet your panties?!" Lisa said incrediously, "TAMMY wet YOUR panties?!? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

Mia straightened up and looked her caregiver directly in the eyes. Screw emotional regulation, she wasn't taking the fall for this. She stomped both of her feet as her tears dried up, and she started yelling.

"BUT, SHE DID! SHE PINNED ME DOWN AND PEED ON ME!" Mia screamed at Lisa, willing her caregiver to believe her.

"Baby, you are clearly lying. Tammy come here," Lisa said, waiving Tammy over. The large woman stood up and made a show of waddling to Lisa's side.

"Yeth, Mith Lisa?" Tammy asked, now fully playing the role of the perfect adult baby girl again. Mia glared at the woman's act.

Lisa pulled up the hem of Tammy's sundress, revealing a slightly wet pull-up underneath. "What happened to Mia, baby girl?" Lisa asked softly like an adult talking to an actual two-year-old.

Tammy shoved her thumb into her mouth as she spoke. "Mia wath blowing pwetty bubbles wif her mouf. She blew a weally big one, and it popped! Da bubble got all in her hair, and Mia gots scared and went pee-pee!" She explained behind her thumb, giving Mia a dumb grin as she finished.

"That's a lie! That's not what happened! She pulled me off the bean bag, pinned me down, and…" Mia's rant was cut off when Sasha's hand wrapped around Mia's head from behind and shoved a giant pacifier into Mia's open mouth. Mia then shook her head as she felt a leather strap being tighter around her head, restricting her from spitting the pacifier out.

"Sorry, Lisa. I just couldn't take any more of Mia's naughty lies," Sasha said as Mia stomped both of her feet and balled her fists in frustration.

"That's totally okay, Sash! I agree with you. I don't know what's happening, but it looks like you were right on the phone the other day. Mia wants me to make her be my diaper filling little baby. I mean, obviously Tammy didn't wet Mia's panties. She's wearing a soggy pull-up for god's sake. How would Tammy even get the pee onto Mia's panties when she's wearing her, um, protection?"

Mia raged behind the pacifier gag as Sasha held her in place. Lisa continued to talk to her best friend over Mia's head as if she wasn't there.

"And Tammy's version of events make since," Lisa grabbed Mia's pigtails, "These cute little pigtails are covered in bubble gum! I think they'll have to be cut short."

Mia's eyes grew wide. She did not want to lose her hair. The bubblegum was so high up in her braids, she would only have a few inches left if Lisa cut it all out. She tried to protest through the pacifier, but couldn't form any words with the giant bulb pinning her tongue down.

"That'a exactly what it looks like to me too, Lisa. What are you going to do about this?" Sasha asked.

Lisa lowered her head to make eye contact with Mia. The stern yet caring look in her girlfriend's eyes made Mia start to tear up again. She started to cry.

Lisa grabbed Mia by the back of the head and drew it closer to her. Quietly, she whispered, "If you wanted this, you could have just told me. I'd have let you be my little baby. Secretly, I've been dying for you to ask. But, if you wanted to brat your way into being my baby, I'm happy to help with that too."

The tears were flowing at full force now. Mia was desperately trying to say something, anything, to alter the direction of her impending fate. However, the bulb of the pacifier in her mouth was so large all she could do was drool and babble incoherently around it.

Plus, at this point, Mia was almost certain anything she did would just be interpreted as her being an obstinate brat in an attempt to get regressed back to diapers. Given the look in Lisa's eyes and the seriousness in her tone, Mia wasn't even certain that safe-wording would work to stop what was about to happen, even if she could.

Lisa stood straight back up. She let her tone get more hostile and stern as she spoke, playing the role of the angry mommy she thought Mia wanted her to play.

"Mia, I am so disappointed in you. I thought you were a big girl who could do big girl things. Instead, it turns out your just a naughty little baby who lies and wets her pants. It's time for me to start treating you the way you've been acting!"

Lisa grabbed Mia's hand and dragged her to a nearby couch, leaving a trail of urine on the carpet with each step. Lisa sat down on the couch and pulled her charge face first, over her lap. She pushed the wet skirt and petticoats of Mia's dress up towards the small woman's head, exposing the soaking wet princess panties on her ass and effectively blinding Mia to anything that wasn't directly in front of her. Unfortunately for Mia, the only thing in her line of sight was Sasha and Tammy. Both women stood there, looking at Mia with self-satisfied grins.

"This is going to hurt me worse than it will hurt you," Lisa said.

Mia shut her eyes. She had never been spanked by her girlfriend. She'd be sent to her room, ordered to write lines, not been given desert, and grounded from anything but school and work. But, until today, she had never been spanked. That changed as Lisa dealt her first blow to Mia's pert little ass.

"This! Is! For! Lying! To! Me!" Lisa said, punctuating each word with a smack to Mia's butt. "You! Never! Lie! To! Mommy!"

Mia sobbed in shame and closed her eyes. The pain of the spanking was one thing, but the shame of being disciplined like a child, while wearing this dress, while wearing soaked panties, was too much. She'd been thoroughly beaten and humiliated by Sasha and Tammy. She couldn't watch them laugh at her as she broke down.

The spanking didn't last long. Soon, Mia felt her girlfriend stop stroking her and slide her wet panties down her legs. Mia didn't resist, she knew she had lost.

Lisa took the panties and hung them in Mia's face. "Say bye-bye to your panties sweetheart. Babies who wet themselves and lie about it get put back in diapers."

Mia let her sobs start anew.

"Look at this dress, too! Completely ruined! What are we going to do with you?" Lisa asked as she pulled Mia's skirts back over her now bare butt.

"Well, I do have one more outfit that would fit Little Mia here, don't I baby?" Sasha said, addressing caregiver and charge at the same time. Mia physically cringed, remembering the pink onesie from the closet.

"Really, that's wonderful. Stand up, baby. Let's go get you into something more appropriate for a pants wetting, little liar," Lisa said as she helped her gagged girlfriend off of her lap.

As Lisa stood up, Sasha immediately noticed a problem. "Lisa, sweetie, it looks like you got a little of the baby's potty on your pants," she informed her friend.

Looking down, Lisa immediately realized her friend was right. "Damn it. I guess I'll just smell like pee for the rest of the day," she responded.

"Don't be silly! I have all sorts of outfits you can borrow. Go down the hall and find something you like. I can get Little Mia here changed quick! I am an expert in this sort of thing," Sasha winked at Lisa. Mia, desperate not to be left alone with Sasha again, tried to beg Lisa not to follow Sasha's plan. The gagged woman's unintelligible prattle fell on deaf ears though.

"Thanks Sash! You're a lifesaver as always," Lisa said before turning to Mia. "I know you're acting bratty today, but please listen to Miss Sasha. She isn't your Mommy and shouldn't have to deal with your naughty behavior!"

With that, Lisa left the room, leaving Mia alone in the playroom with both Sasha and Tammy. Sasha strode up to Mia like a tiger coming up on it's kill.

"You heard your Mommy, baby girl. You need to listen to me. Let's go."

Sasha grabbed Mia's hand and dragged her back to the nursery for her first of what Mia truly fear was going to be many diaper change.

NEXT CHAPTER

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 13

Content Warnings: Torture, Canon Typical Violence, Cursing

Author's Note: This is short and straight up angst I'm so sorry, but I promise the next chapter will be longer.

Masterlist/ Previous Chapter

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You can’t reach him.

It’s all you can think about; the cold, quiet emptiness in your head, in your chest, it’s all encompassing. You’re too far out of reach to warn him. Hybern is here and no one will have any idea, least of all your mate.

You thrash against the hands that hold you--Hybern had winnowed you out of the Mountain and right into the waiting arms of his soldiers, four of which now drag you inside a temple on the outskirts of Spring’s borders, the old building badly burnt, as if someone had recently set it on fire--throwing your weight around as best you can until you hit the floor. Amarantha is not around to punish you, you let your claws slip out of your nail beds so you can gouge them into the worn stones of the Temple floor, trying to slow your progress. There is no manipulating, no smooth talking your way out of whatever Hybern has planned for you, your only chance is to run. 

“Bring her here,” Hybern orders. He sounds like an irritated father dealing with a toddler’s temper tantrum, his booming voice echoing off the domed ceiling. 

There’s only one Priestess about, her blonde hair slipping out from underneath her soft blue hood, a circlet atop her pale face. She frowns when she sees you, as if you are the worst thing in the Temple, even though its battered walls are full of soldiers bearing Hybern’s sigil. 

“No manners on this one, I see,” the priestess says.

Hybern frowns as he strokes a hand over his bearded chin. “Too much spirit in all the wrong places.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!” You scream as one of the soldiers snags your ankle and drags you across the rough stones. It’s only then that you get a glimpse of an altar, old as time, the stones covered in dripping candle wax. Atop the cracked, ageless stones, a giant, black cauldron sits, green mist slipping from the top.

You freeze, claws still digging into the floor, momentarily keeping you in place. Not any cauldron, the Cauldron. Just like your dreams. As if it’s sentient, as if it can sense your unease, a voice from within the bottomless chamber whispers, “Come, come Daughter of the Void, come and see what I have in store for you.”

A shiver crawls its way up your spine and you throw yourself away from it as best you can. No one else seems to notice the voice, perhaps it is a message for you and you alone. 

You poke at the bond again, making one last ditch attempt to reach your mate, but there is only cold, emptiness between the two of you. Despite all his promises, he’s too far away to save you.

“Stop this!” Hybern booms.

“Fuck you!” You shout back as you manage to free your ankle from a soldier’s grip and land a kick square in his nose. Blood splatters across your exposed leg as you twist, arms screaming in protest as you bring your knee into the next one’s groin. 

Despite your best efforts, all Hybern has to do is reach out, and some great, invisible hand yanks you across the floor until you slam into the altar. When you try to stand, that hand holds you down with enough force to make the air leave your lungs in a terrible wheeze.

“Enough, daughter.”

“I’m not your daughter!” You snarl. 

The priestess eyes you curiously, her pale blue eyes on your chest, where Rhys’s jacket no longer covers you, the too big sleeves sliding off your shoulders. She frowns as she steps closer. “Why is your chest glamored?”

Hybern’s power will not release you, even as he steps closer to get a better look.

The slide across the floor tore up the back of your thighs, your skin raw as you fight in vain to move away. 

Shit shit shit.

Hybern crouches in front of you, and it’s only now you notice how armed his soldiers are behind him, swords in hand, ready to run you through if they think their king is in danger. 

“Drop the glamor.”

“Eat shit!” You can’t move your hands, can’t kick out with your legs, and he’s not close enough to use your teeth, but that doesn’t stop you from spitting directly in his face.

In retaliation, that great power pinning you to the floor lifts you up, just to slam you back down, your head clacking against the altar so hard spots swim across your vision.

“Last chance to spare yourself,” Hybern warns.

You grit your teeth and snarl as many curses as you can think of and you're rewarded with an even more forceful drop, once, twice, and a third. You think you might have bitten your tongue, the coppery tang of blood heavy in your mouth, but the room spins so much you can’t be sure. But still, the glamor remains in place. You can hold it, you know you can, Rhys had prepared you more than you’d realized at the time. You hold onto that. Maybe Rhys cannot be here to physically save you, but all he’s taught you still remains at your disposal. 

That power holding you lifts enough for you to finally, mercifully, take a full breath, only for it to shift into something else. What was once a crushing weight quickly morphs into a blasting wind, whipping back and forth over your exposed skin so hard and fast it tears the collar off your jacket. Hybern’s soldiers crouch back, holding onto the walls for support as that wind wraps itself around you like a serpent. Like phantom hands, the wind tears at the magic you’ve bound around yourself, as harsh and sharp as the twins attempt to get into your mind. It takes all your energy to keep the glamor up, to fight against it. You have no real knowledge how to throw out your own power as anything more than a shield, but you do know how to take. You let those phantom hands reach for you, your eyes falling shut, your attempts at pushing it away forgotten. You draw a breath, steadying yourself, willing yourself to open up to the fall. 

“Come, come to me, Little Thief,” the Cauldron calls as your powers swim to the surface. “Come show me what you can steal.”

You are not helpless, you are not a mouse as Amarantha so likes to call you, you are a goddess caged in flesh, a storm housed within a body. This power can be yours as easily as it can be his. The thrashing of the wind stills for a moment, you can feel the ebb of it beneath your skin as it syncs to your heartbeat. You grab a tendril of it in your fingers, bending it to your will, and for a moment, for a moment all that terrible power belongs to you. 

“Do you think me so feeble, daughter?” Hybern snarls and all of a sudden that power tears itself from your grip and lashes against you in earnest. 

Your body jerks in its grip, the beating of it verging on pain now, your skin stinging. No matter how hard you try to grab it, it continues to slip through your fingers, leaving your only option to try and keep the glamor up at all costs. For maybe a minute or two you manage to fight it, pushing the wind away from the ink on your skin, but in the end, there is just too much of it. When the wind lets up and you hit the floor, the glamor is gone, and both your bargain marks are on full display.

“Night Court,” the priestess hisses.

Your heart drops into your stomach as Hybern studies the markings, his disdain palpable. Maybe you’re not so good at this after all.

“What deal did you make with that whore?” He hisses.

Your fangs slip out as your lips pull back in a snarl, “Stop calling him that!”

The priestess laughs, the sound shrill and irreverent in a space like this. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the bastard?”

“Ianthe,” Hybern warns and the priestess clamps her mouth shut. “Tell me what you’ve done, so I can undo it.”

Undo it. The words clang through you like an alarm bell and you push yourself upright, body screaming in protest until you’re flush against the altar. He can’t be serious. It could kill you! Worse, it could kill Rhys.

You instinctively clutch a hand over the flower inked into your chest. 

“What did you bargain?” Hybern demands.

There are no thoughts in your head, no clever lies to save you, there is only the bubbling panic that something terrible is about to happen and you’re powerless to stop it, no matter what you’re made of. 

“Please, don’t,” you whimper. 

“What did you bargain?” Hybern shouts.

The Cauldron continues to whisper and hiss above your head, the strange mist turning the room eerie shades. Everything looks a little distorted and hazy.

“I vowed to kill Amarantha,” you stutter. Maybe the truth will save you, he did say he wanted her dead. “In exchange for some help and training.” No need to mention the moving into the Night Court with its High Lord thing.

“And?”

Together. A promise that there would be an after to look forward to, a future with no Amarantha, no Mountain, no pain. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s not supposed to be like this! You never should have gotten out of bed, maybe if you had stayed in Rhys’s room, Hybern wouldn’t have found you at all. You’d still be with your mate, still working towards your freedom. It would be a cage, but you’d be together, as you promised. But now the ink on your palm is strangely cold, compared to the warmth that should be there. 

“That’s all,” you lie and your reward is a backhanded slap across the face.

You grit your teeth; Amarantha has done worse to you, you can endure this.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter,” Hybern says, fixing the rumpled sleeves of his shirt. “If it kills Rhysand, I’m doing you a favor.”

“No!” It’s all you manage to get out before a stab of pain flairs beneath your skin. It’s subtle for a brief second, Hybern’s powers testing the strength of the marks, before it turns violent. Almost immediately, it begins to feel as if your palm and chest are tearing itself apart, splitting open. Black dots swirl across your vision, as the pain becomes white hot. At some point you begin screaming, for yourself, for the pain, for your mate.

“Stop! Please! NO!” The words jumble out of you in a rush. This can’t be happening! Dark mist seeps from your skin, claws and fangs tearing free from your hold on them as your body tries to fight him for you. The Temple rumbles and the Priestess starts muttering a prayer that makes the Cauldron bubble and hiss.

The room spins. Your body jerks, limbs twitching uncontrollably. “Stop!”

He’s going to kill you. All for his stupid war.

“Please,” you’re dimly aware that your claws are scratching at the flower on your chest, as if you can hold it in place, keep the bond from slipping through your fingers. Your tears burn as they slide down your cheeks. What will happen to your mating bond if he breaks this? The two are so tangled together, will it kill the both of you? “Please, stop!”

But Hybern pays your pleas no mind, powers holding you down as the pain becomes so unbearable you heave. Nothing Amarantha has done to you compares to this. This makes her look like a saint. 

With one final, mind numbing crack, both bonds snap, the ink fading from your skin as you collapse against the floor. It’s cold, the rough stone biting into limbs that no longer feel connected to your body. The rise and fall of your chest feels like something has been carved from your body.

“I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N,” Hybern says.

You’ve ended up on your back, teary eyes staring through a hole in the ceiling, where the first glitter of stars shine through. “Rhys,” you whimper.

“It would only slow you down.” Hands slide under your shoulders and knees, calluses scraping against the open wounds the stones have made against your thighs. You don’t have the presence of mind to squirm, to fight, limbs still feeling like they’ve come disconnected from your body. “This is the only way for you to be free.”

Free. It’s such an empty word. You’re never really going to be free.

“Come, come, come,” beckons the Cauldron as it comes into view. 

Hybern holds you over the rim, dark eyes impassive. “You will thank me for this one day.” And then he drops you in.

------

You’re drowning. Icy water tearing through your throat, pushing down your nose. Your arms won’t work, won’t let you flail back to the surface; legs unable to find a bottom. For something so outwardly small, there should be a bottom, but nothing ever rises to meet you. There are no walls to claw at, no bottom to push off of, there is only the icy water shoving its way inside your very being until it swallows you whole.

------

The world feels different when you come to, surrounded by a puddle of icy water on the floor like the Cauldron had been tipped over to dump your body out. You might be tempted to ask if you were dead, were it not for the pair of boots tapping against the stones in front of your head impatiently. Hard to imagine Hybern would be waiting for you in the afterlife. 

It hurts to breathe, like there are shards of ice in your lungs and throat as you cough up some inky, black water onto the King’s boots. He doesn’t flinch away, even as you hurl your guts out.

“Are you done?” He asks.

You glance up at him through the wet strands of your hair that cling to your face. “Fuck you!” Your voice is different, a booming echo that sounds like it’s being screamed inside a cavern. The walls shake when you speak. Stranger still, it is not a single set of fangs you feel scrape past your lips when you snarl, but a whole set of jagged teeth. When you raise your hands to poke at them, your skin is once again an empty, black void, contained within the shape of your body. Your claws are shrouded in a black mist that drifts from your depthless skin.

“What did you do to me?”

Hybern crouches as and grabs the chain that still dangles from your throat, but when he gives it a pull, it feels as if it has become attached to your skin! There is no room between the collar and your throat, as if it had fused to your body, the tug the same tingling sensation you’d get if someone had pulled on your hair. 

“You should show me your thanks,” he snarls. “I’ve freed you from the restrictions your uncle put on you as a child.”

You wince as he yanks you to your feet, limbs a little longer now than they used to be. Everything feels sharper. The pounding of the soldiers’ hearts are a drum beat in your ears. Their every breath feels like a scream. Your eyes burn under the faint candlelight, as if they’re not made to be in anything other than pure darkness. 

“And now,” he snarls, pulling you close. “You’ll do as I say.”

You have every intention to get your hands on his chest and shove him, to fight back against the harsh hold he keeps on you, but you can’t. Your body stills, mid snarl, like it’s frozen.

Hybern grins as he watches your confusion, callused hand reaching out to brush your cheek. “Do you understand why those bargains couldn’t be there now?”

“What did you do?” You hiss.

He tugs the collar, earning another hiss of pain. “Ianthe used some spells for me, while you were under. Since I touched you last, the collar fused my will to you. If those bonds were still forged, well, you might have only answered to Rhysand.”

Your mind spins, body trembling. What has he done?

“I think you need a demonstration,” he says, turning to glance at his men, then back at you. “Kill them.”

Warmth emanates from the collar in a steady thrum, prompting you forward, whispering like the Cauldron had before you had been dumped in. No matter how hard you try to escape it, the collar only allows you to move in the way you’re ordered too. Despite all your protests, your claw tipped hand raises from your side, dark mist dripping from your fingers. 

No. No. No! This is a bad dream. 

And yet, you can’t even force your eyes shut, to look away from the carnage your body creates when that black mist gets directed at the line of terrified soldiers pressed against the wall. One moment there’s twenty men gaping at you, the next, there’s nothing but a fine mist of blood splattered against the Temple’s wall.

Nausea rolls in your gut, but you can’t even bend over to vomit.

“Was that so hard?” 

This can’t be real. It can’t. You need to wake up.

Hybern tugs on your collar, demanding you look at him. “Was that so hard, daughter?”

You open your mouth to protest, but that same warm thrum from the collar stops the words in your throat. No matter how hard you try, you can’t raise your hands to try and pull it off your skin; if there’s a way to fight it, your body refuses to let you try and find it. When the collar, imbued with whatever spells they’d put into it while you were inside the Cauldron, doesn’t will it, your body will not push back against it. You can’t even cry as you want, all the emotions trapped within your body as if you’re inside your own walking tomb.

And Hybern, the man who’s supposed to be your father, laughs when you don’t answer. Laughs that he’s stolen your agency, your powers, you’re life for his own agendas.

“The Cauldron will need time to recharge before we get to the Wall,” Ianthe muses.

“We won’t need it to get through the Wall,” he returns. “Y/N will do all the work for us.”

She frowns as she takes you in. “What of Amarantha?”

Hybern tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he leans in, breath hot and unpleasant against your, now sensitive, skin. “For fighting me,” he hisses, “you’re going to go back Under the Mountain and kill all of them.”

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnnaaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomeevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewmanblog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msolider, @amara-moonlight, @darling006, @92404-blog1 , @genniecokkie

[fanaticsnail]

What I ment was do you have anything in store for Benn?

I would love to write some more for him! I have a little piece of lettuce just out of my reach 🥬🐌.

Looks Good On You (One-Shot)

Synopsis: the Red-Hair pirates have docked in port, your adventuring is taking its toll and are desperately in need of a walk on solid land. Making your way into the marketplace, you spot a single mother who is attempting to juggle a baby in her arms while halting an encumbering temper tantrum from her older child. You offer to take her baby and cradle them while she parents her toddler. Beckman begins to have a few feelings flood to him when he sees how you look holding an infant.

I don't know if that sounds like something you might be interested in reading, but it's slowly eating at me.

Edit to add: I am currently working on a fic like this, but a few aspects have changed around to make it fit for a young Uta and a dad Shanks. Fic will be ready shortly!

Final Edit to add: The fic got out of hand, changing the initial concept to featuring baby Uta and now it is a completed 5-part series uploaded on my Masterlist. Daughter of the Sea is 22,000+ words, and all done.

[ofsappho]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani) Part III: Duncan

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

(Note: I invented some stuff/added some new terminology to make up for worldbuilding that didn't happen in canon. If you have questions just send me an ask!)

PART III: DUNCAN

Duncan did not consider himself an unnecessarily stubborn man. Though he was initially wary of including Lady Jessica’s young Bene Gesserit handmaiden in Paul’s combat training, a year had proven that Paul flourished with the addition of a sparring opponent who matched him in strength and size.

One, two, three. His pupils’ current sparring bout played out in front of him in the training room. The sound of each blow and each block echoed off the walls like a heartbeat. “Arms up, Paul.” Duncan cautioned.

At the reminder, the youth straightened up and his gangly arms, now starting to finally bulk out to Paul’s poorly-hidden satisfaction, came up to properly defend his head and torso. His black curls stuck to his forehead with sweat while a fierce expression furrowed his young brow.

That expression brought a fond smile to Duncan’s face. Paul’s father looked like that when he fought.

Since he had added full contact sparring to Paul’s training, Duncan was pleased to note that the boy continued to earn that privilege with his devotion to every lesson. His scrawny charge appeared early in the training room with eagerness written across his open face every day.

Of course, he still got into mischief and roped his companion into it frequently - that was just Paul’s way. His attitude had greatly improved since that final, fateful temper tantrum and since his lady mother enlisted that girl into her household.

At twelve, Paul had begun to settle into the features that Duncan imagined he would retain into adulthood. Though he could hardly match his tutor in stature or build now, he was growing like a weed. The boy would easily be as tall as him one day, if not taller.

He could still remember the squirming little bundle Leto had pressed into his arms mere hours after Paul’s birth. When the infant’s eyes had met his, he saw the same emerald green eyes of the Duke and his father before him. Duncan felt privileged to have been able to watch that baby grow into a capable, earnest boy.

Paul was, in a way, the son of his heart.

Even though he seemed to be growing into the very image of his father, Duncan could see himself in Paul too. When he was only a toddler, Paul did his very best to imitate the swordmaster’s mannerisms. That child had been so sincere that all who saw him couldn’t help but chuckle.

Now, Paul had grown to unconsciously mimic the way Duncan carried himself, the length of his stride, the way he gestured with his hands. There was no better legacy the warrior wished to leave behind than this youth, a true child of the three of them - Leto, Jessica, and Duncan.

He had taken to combat with the same ease his father had, at nearly the same age, the swordmaster thought as he watched with fondness and pride. Paul darted, quick as a hunter-seeker, past Chryse’s strikes only to counter with his own.

That his liege had entrusted Paul’s training to him was a great honor. The boy in front of him, fighting with a keenness much older than his age, could yet match his noble father in excellence. Whether or not Paul would exceed him remained to be seen.

One did not so easily clear the bar set by Leto Atreides. The Ginaz swordmaster remembered how at newly fifteen, coral disk in hand, he had been sent to join Duke Mintor Atreides’ household and accompany his son and heir, na-Duke Leto Atreides. 

His lord had always been different. Leto had been a mere teenager when they first met, itching to prove his might against the Harkonnens in battle, yet he was wise and principled in a way that Duncan had never known.

Ginaz built master swordsmen and tacticians, not people. Not lords.

After their first spar, after the way Leto clasped his hand and pulled him up from the ground after the na-Duke had sent him sprawling, Duncan knew he would follow that man to the edge of the Imperium and beyond.

There might have been shame and failure in defeat at the hands of a different man. There was no shame in his heart when Leto raised him up, as there was no shame in bowing to the might of the wind.

Later that night, Leto had clasped their calloused hands together, and Duncan remembered thinking, he is half of my soul.

Even the Emperor knew of the then na-Duke Leto’s integrity and the effortless way he commanded respect and loyalty. Thufir Hawat, the most fearsome Mentat in the Imperium, had sworn his fealty to Leto as he had to Mintor and Paulos. The legendary bard-warrior, Gurney Halleck, was plucked out of the Harkonnen slave-pits by Leto and pledged his life to him in return.

The Duke earned every ounce of allegiance given to him.

From that first day on, the Ginaz swordmaster knew he would follow House Atreides until the end of his life. For what was glory, if not serving Leto and his family with all Duncan had? To give his life over to the keeper of his soul?

He would die for his lord without question. The Duke knew this and pressed a more difficult task upon the swordmaster - to live for him, should Leto die first, so that Duncan could protect Paul.

One, two, three. The two children danced around each other on the floor mats before Paul pushed Chryse back far enough that she could not reach him without an answering attack that would do real damage. She stopped for a moment, her gaze darting around the room to catalog everything like a Mentat, and waited for Paul to catch his breath.

“Again,” Duncan commanded, his voice harsher than it should be.

A sigh escaped him at the sight of her barely concealed flinch. He really shouldn’t have barked at her like that. Chryse had never done anything to Paul or Duke Leto. Her presence had lifted Paul’s spirits and challenged him to strive further by all accounts, including his own. The retainer watched the children fight a while longer before halting practice for the day. The two of them gathered cups of water and returned to the mat to stretch, Paul’s carefree chatter filling the room.

Duncan had only lived this long through trusting in his instincts. Around Bene Gesserit, his instincts told him that there was something terribly wrong with these women.

All that said, he and Jessica had come to a consensus many years ago over their shared lord and lover. She made Leto happy. When the woman presented his soulmate with a son and heir, the Duke had never been more pleased. Duncan would die to protect that happiness. He would never go so far as to call her a friend, but they were cordial with one another, and he served and protected her as was his duty.

Though it didn’t matter how cordial and respectful she was to the swordmaster or how many smiles she brought to Leto’s face, Duncan trusted any member of her order about as far as he could throw one.

Her little handmaiden unnerved him in the same way they did.

The day Chryse joined her household, Jessica had pulled him aside. He remembered being taken aback by the wild, desperate fear in her eyes. That smooth voice of hers had only the barest quiver when she informed him of the girl that the Imperial truthsayer delivered in-person to Caladan.

At her words, the swordmaster straightened up while one of his hands strayed to the long sword, sheathed at his belt. “Is she going to pose a threat?” He growled out. That truthsayer be damned. The whole Bene Gesserit be damned. He would protect Leto and Paul at any cost.

He counted the time she took to respond in heartbeats. With each beat that passed, ire set deeper into his bones, and he stepped closer to the lady to press for her answer.

Jessica looked away from Duncan to her pale hands as if examining the tendons that lay beneath the skin. In the moment before she answered, her imperious expression twisted into what looked like shame. Duncan blinked, and the guilt was gone so fast, he wondered if he’d imagined it. 

“...No.”

Their gazes met. He trusted her to protect their family. Jessica knew that. While her trepidation alone was enough to mark this unknown girl as a threat in Duncan’s mind, he had faith that Jessica would never let anyone bring harm to House Atreides. To Leto.

Duncan perused her face, looking for any hint of a lie. She seemed truthful enough. “Alright.” He stepped back. That was hardly a satisfactory answer, but Duncan would let it lie as Jessica was indiscernible once more.

She neatly tucked her hands behind her back, out of his sight. “Her name is Chryse. She is to be my handmaiden when she grows older, but for now, I’d like her to accompany Paul to his sparring lessons with you.” Duncan knew Jessica well enough to know when she was giving a command, one framed diplomatically as a request.

The urge to refuse that command was strong, but he instantly understood what she meant under her poised words. Jessica would never jeopardize Paul and Leto by allowing a known threat into their house. This girl was an unknown. Should anything happen under his supervision, Jessica knew he would protect Paul. Duncan did not doubt that she’d arranged other minders for the little handmaiden when he wouldn’t be there.

He would obey his lady’s command, and the two of them would guard Paul against this unknown.

Chryse was quiet, quieter than any child of her age he’d ever known. They had met for the first time when a giddy Paul had dragged her behind him, both to show off his new companion and to seek Duncan’s approval.

She and Jessica shared the same placid countenance that all Bene Gesserit had, a countenance that unnerved him every time he experienced it. The ice in her face only melted when Paul looked to her to ensure her attention during one of his rambles about the latest filmbook he’d seen or when Paul asked her some sort of open-ended question with the bright curiosity of a young child.

When anyone set choices in front of her, the girl seemed overwhelmed and lost. Chryse shied away from decisions, and Paul seemed to enjoy earnestly guiding her through them, even if he hadn’t entirely realized he was doing so. Duncan was grateful Paul didn’t have an ounce of selfishness or ill-intent towards her, for her sake.

There was something wrong with her. The swordmaster was sure of it, and that surety set him on edge. Duncan had observed her during their first lesson - when Chryse fought, Duncan felt that combat was intrinsic to her and required no conscious effort on her part. As if she was constructed instead of raised.

Halleck’s beloved Orange Catholic Bible came to mind. Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind.

Hunter-seekers were constructed for combat, too, though those machines had to be operated by someone else, somewhere else. He feared that someone, somewhere, was operating this girl.

Duncan Idaho knew that time was not an enemy, unlike what many other men thought. It was an ally. So he waited, and he watched.

Of course, Duncan had sparred with her himself before so much as letting her near Paul with a bokken. The girl-child didn’t only land one hit - she landed many. She left bruises. For a few moments during the fight, he almost stopped seeing her as a child in his care, not more than ten standard years old. Chryse was another enemy, another Harkonnen or Sardaukar, and Duncan Idaho couldn’t see past that until she was sprawled on the training mat beneath him, the tip of his bokken under her small jaw. One particularly forceful blow and he’d have broken her neck. The child hadn’t responded or whispered a word in protest. She merely continued to look up at Duncan with her large, guileless eyes, like a calf going to slaughter.

In the year since their first meeting, Chryse had managed to put his initial fears to rest. She had a very marked reluctance to physically injure Paul when the two of them sparred and would go out of her way to avoid doing so, even if that action put her at a disadvantage. It frustrated the boy to no end, but Duncan preferred it to the alternative. There were no threats or thwarted assassination attempts from her or anyone else. It seemed like the only people who held Chryse’s reins were them.

But Duncan was not completely heartless. The more time she spent with Paul, the less overwhelmed she seemed. Chryse’s movements were still uncanny, but he watched her slowly become more like a child and less like a weapon, like a winter melted into spring. The girl tended towards a rather endearing wide-eyed naïveté and innocent wonder.

The two of them had grown since their first meeting in directions that complimented the other. Paul wasn’t nearly as restless and dissatisfied as he had been. She grounded him and made him happy in a way the adults in his life simply couldn’t. The boy had continued to guide and nurture her, and Chryse had continued to trust in him enthusiastically. They reminded Duncan of the young vines Jessica tended to in the gardens, intrinsically and unconsciously intertwined as they reached for the sun.

Time was an ally. Duncan had time to continue watching her and ensure she wouldn’t grow into her potential as a threat. Paul had time to grow into his potential as a soldier, a warrior who could defend himself.

A servant appeared in the doorway. “Pardon me, Sir. Lady Jessica requests her handmaiden’s assistance in her presence-chamber.” He nodded his assent quickly and gestured for Chryse to follow after the attendant. The girl hesitated for a moment, seemingly ill at ease. Duncan didn’t miss her unease or the way she tamped down on it with force.

Paul had rounded on Duncan as soon as she’d left without a backward glance, endearingly chattering on about their lesson. “I think I did better today with the grappling? I’m trying-” For the moment, the swordmaster would put away his concerns, and he turned his attention to the boy in front of him.

Paul attempted to duck away from Duncan’s hand but failed to avoid a fond ruffle of his dark hair. “You did well, Paul.” The retainer didn’t give out empty praise - Duncan knew his honesty would benefit Paul the most. Chryse was unnervingly quick at picking up the forms and throws she learned, but Paul even now had a bright mind that could anticipate her moves in advance and adjust instantly to compensate. He had an innate control of every spar; there again, Duncan could see Leto in him. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Paul stopped short at his words. He looked then like the small child Paul had been, a child who clung to Duncan’s every word and often looked for his approval and attention. Before he could respond, the tutor continued. “Listen to me. I know you know that one day, you must be Duke Atreides. To you, that seems far away and impossible right now.” Duncan could see Paul’s uncertainty whenever his future as the Duke was brought up as clear as day, for all of the boy’s feigned confidence and maturity.

The Dukedom was his by right of birth. But the potential and capability to be a great man, a great leader, a great Duke; that was all Paul. No great ancestor or accomplished relative could have given Paul that. While the boy didn’t have an inherently boastful or vain temperament, Paul lacked true confidence in spades. Without it, he would fail.  “I have never lied to you, and I do not intend to start now. When that time comes, you will be deserving of it. I promise you.”

The boy grew somber at the weight behind Duncan’s words, and his green eyes stayed fixed on the man’s face.

The Harkonnens circled ever closer, their military might backed by the obscene riches they drained from Arrakis. 

At the emperor’s command, Leto had been called before the Landsraad that week to negotiate a dispute between their quadrant and an adjacent quadrant.

The Great Houses under Leto’s jurisdiction as Warden of Centaurus Quadrant had risen against the Great Houses of Bode Quadrant. The skirmishes grew bloodier by the day. If House Atreides could not keep the peace, the emperor wouldn’t hesitate to strip them of the wardenship. Padishah Shaddam IV looked for every chance to undermine Leto.

The moment they finished in the training room, Duncan planned to head straight to the war chamber to coordinate the deployment of Atreides troops to the many planets under their dominion, under Leto’s orders. Ideally, they would halt the bloodshed entirely, but judging from the most recent intelligence from Hawat, protracted disputes were the more realistic outcome.

As sheltered as his childhood was, Paul had only known peace. Duncan did not doubt that peace would be in shorter supply when the boy reached the age of majority. Dukehood was his right, and Paul needed to know it. Belief in that right was all that stood between him and his possible destruction.

Paul straightened up under Duncan’s gaze. “Leading our House is your right, Paul. It is what you are owed. You need to own it.” Steel settled in the boy’s gaze, and Duncan grew pleased at the sight of it. Paul would take his words to heart.

When Paul responded, his voice seemed to echo off the walls with a gravity that far outstripped his age. “I understand.” There were still a million and one different ways the boy could falter, and hundreds of thousands of other factors that might end their House. 

But the youth standing before him wore an expression of ancient understanding, some otherworldly wellspring of memory and experience. There was no reasonable explanation for how Paul had come to that understanding right here, right now, but it was so intrinsic that Duncan didn’t question it at the moment.

The moment between them passed, and the peculiar awareness that had taken over this twelve-year-old boy went with it. What in the Imperium had just happened?

As if nothing odd had occurred, Paul bowed as he always did at the end of sparring lessons. “May I be excused?” Duncan silently nodded and watched as Paul dashed from the room, no doubt in search of his mother or Gurney Halleck, or off to his room to put on another one of those filmbooks he liked so much.

The swordmaster had felt the same distinctive unease around Paul that he felt around Bene Gesserit. Duncan knew how to pick his battles, though, and the boy seemed fine and, most importantly, safe enough. Under Jessica’s careful eye, Paul was not likely to harm himself somehow with… whatever that was. It would suffice for now, and later Duncan would press Jessica into a conversation about what sort of alien mess her religious cult had undoubtedly dragged Paul into. While he didn’t have any proof those witches were involved, it seemed highly unlikely that they didn’t have anything to do with it.

If he needed to guard Paul against himself, he would do it. Right now, though, Duncan had a more pressing priority of holding the quadrant together so Leto could return from the Landsraad safely and in victory.

He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. With a resigned sigh, Duncan left the training room.

Ah yes the iconic queer dynamic of "lord and the knight who would die for him and the lord's lady)

Tagging: @redskull199987@itsemy01@blahzaiblahsheep@herebereblogs @spacenotwar @assorted-fandom-things @hogwartshouse @mylenne-16

[tasha-writes]

A Stitch in Time - Part 3

Alicent dies and finds herself sent back and time and must figure out how to deal with the events of her previous life and find a way forward to avoid them. It's a bit harder than it sounds when she realizes it requires a level of civility and reconciliation with a certain princess.

Chapter 1

https://www.tumblr.com/tasha-writes/758631118332411904/a-stitch-in-time?source=share

Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/tasha-writes/758834603569168384/a-stitch-in-time-part-two?source=share

Alicent grimaced Sunfyre skittered over her lap. The dragon was approximately the size of a cat, but his tiny talons were sharp as knives. Currently, the young dragon was playing fetch of all things with Aegon. Helaena watched attentively from her cradle, the closest she ever got to matching Aegon’s claps and giggles. Aegon had his temper’s as a child to be sure, but overall he had been such a lovely baby. How did that turn into the drunkard rapist in her dream? Her other life? Two days of mulling it over and she still couldn’t be sure. 

She did however, remember the source of her antipathy towards Rhaenyra and found herself angry all over again. Whether it be months or years of separation from the event, Alicent still found her temper boiling at the lie Rhaenyra had fed her. Their years of friendship apparently meaning nothing. Had Rhaenyra told the truth, Alicent would have protected her. Wouldn’t she? She was almost sure that she would. It was the lie that hurt the most. 

The door to the nursery banged open, throwing Helaena into one of her screaming fits immediately. The screaming infant sent the tiny dragon barreling into the wobbling toddler that was Aegon and knocking him over, sending him into a kicking and screaming tantrum himself. Alicent almost felt bad for the little gold dragon who was now being squeezed for comfort. “You dismissed Ser Criston!” Alicent suddenly felt like screaming and crying in unison with her children. 

Instead she went to Helaena in an attempt to comfort the ever crying infant. “Rhaenyra,” 

“What did he tell you?” Alicent sighed. She wondered if Rhaenyra knew she was incriminating herself, although Alicent already knew the truth.

“I will speak plainly, stepdaughter,” Rhaenyra scoffed, “He bloodied his white cloak with your maidenhead, for that alone I should have dismissed him immediately. And then his unsightly behavior at your wedding,” Alicent shook her head, “disgraceful.” Not to mention what Criston did with Alicent years down the line. “Close the door Rhaenyra, and - Aegon for the love of - Rhaenyra could you possibly rescue that poor lizard?” 

Rhaenyra stalked over to her brother and gently pried Sunfyre out of his grubby little hands. “Careful Aegon, kesā ossēnagon se mijegindita run. Se pār skoriot kessa ao sagon?” Alicent frowned over her shoulder at the two siblings, what could Rhaenyra have possibly said to him. ‘Careful’ had been in common tongue, careful what? Careful of your grandfather who would have you usurp me? Careful of your mother that would let him? “Alicent, you’re practically shaking poor Helaena.” Rhaenyra’s angry face was a sharp contrast to her kindly intentioned words. 

“Thank you Rhaenyra, but I do not need instructions on how to care for mine own children,” Alicent snapped. Rhaenyra just rolled her eyes in response and sat to pet Sunfyre. 

“He confessed his sin, didn’t he. Before the welcome feast?” Rhaenyra asked after the dragon had finally decided he’d had enough, and skittered off towards the fireplace. It was infuriating how astute this younger version of the princess could be when she wasn’t so busy being angry at the world. 

“You lied to me, Rhaenyra.” Alicent accused harshly. “You swore to me, on your mother, that you maintained your maidenhood,” Alicent turned towards the window, refusing to let the princess see the tears that threatened to spill. Helaena continued to cry, Alicent bounced her harder. 

“Is this truly what this whole feud has been about?” Rhaeynra scoffed, “I didn’t lie to you Alicent. I swore that Daemon had not touched me, and it is true I did not sully myself on his cock,” Alicent flinched  “I never swore that I remained a maiden.” 

“That language is not suitable of a lady, much less a princess,” Alicent hissed, “Do try not to be such an influence on my son.” 

“Apologies, your Grace,” Rhaenyra spit out sarcastically, “I shall endeavor to control my mouth.”

“See that you do,” Alicent said coldly. 

“As you should endeavor to control yours about my lord husband.” Rhaenyra’s demanded, a fiery temper against Alicent’s icy one. The tension was thick enough that you could cut it with a knife, and there was something oddly comforting in that. This was what she was used to. The anger, the resentment. The back and forth of the year between Aegon’s second and third name day had been stressful. Alicent constantly felt as if she had been on egg shells. 

“It is an open secret,” Alicent scoffed, “the whole of court knows, and duly ignores it. I find I can not do the same,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “Do you think that he will be able to provide you an heir? Any children you have will likely be of dubious parentage at best.” 

“Laenor and I will perform our duty to the realm.” It was almost cute how Rhaenyra actually believed that. 

“Do not act naive Rhaenyra, it does not suit you,” Alicent chided. 

“And what would you have me do?” Rhaenyra snapped, “Have no children at all? Ensure that it is Aegon and his descendants who sit the throne after me?” 

Alicent took a moment to consider courses of action and their various political insinuations. In truth, she had never imagined she would be in the position to advise, although in anger, Rhaenyra’s situation. “Lord Corlys certainly knows his sons preferences, as we all do. Annul the marriage, promise your heir to one of Laena’s children.” A clean solution that allowed for the Lord of the Tides to actually put his blood on the Iron throne, however many generations removed. 

“And how do you suggest I provide this heir?” Rhaenyra sneered, “Shall impregnate myself perhaps?”

And now for the piece de resistance, a sure fire way for her father’s scheming to come to an end, “We joked about when we were supposed to lunch together, before you stormed off, “ Alicent took a breath to steady herself, “Marry my brother. Marry Gwayne.”

Alicent’s suggestion was met with absolute silence, even the children had quieted, Helaena’s sobs having faded into hiccups. The minutes ticked by and Rhaenyra’s face had dropped into a carefully neutral expression. Was she considering Alicents offer, or just how best to say no? Alicent couldn’t blame Rhaenyra if she did, perhaps one of Otto Hightower’s children marrying into the family was more than enough. 

“What would you done if I had told you the truth?” Rhaenyra asked quietly. “About Ser Cole?”

Why in the name of the Gods were they circling back to this? Alicent shrugged, “I would have honored your trust in me and kept our friendship, I would have acted accordingly with that.” With Helaena finally calmed down, Alicent deemed it safe to place the child in her crib and give herself a break. 

 “I should still like us to be on good terms,  But it is hard when you do not trust me, and have endeavored to commit sins that have damaged my trust in you as well.” 

“What has brought this on Alicent?” Rhaenyra asked. Almost as if to answer for the queen, Aegon crawled upon his elder sisters lap and started playing with the long strands that fell in front of her shoulders. 

“In truth, I fear for my children. I do not wish for them to be caught in the crossfire of our anger. Nor your children, once you bear them,” Rhaenyra grimaced at the reminder of bearing heirs. “And I am lonely,” Alicent admitted, “something that I have admitted to you previously, when Daemon returned from the Stepstones.” 

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, “We have both hurt and been hurt by half truths. Perhaps we could both endeavor to open our hearts more fully to each other.” Alicent resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the thinly veiled attack. The princess, it seemed, was still upset about Alicent’s marriage to Viserys. 

“I suppose we could,” Alicent allowed. 

“Ser Criston asked me to run away with him.” Alicents gaze shot towards the princess. Rhaenyra was looking down at the prince in her lap. “I said no, of course. My duty lies here, in the keep. He wasn’t satisfied with being my whore as he called it. And that was that.” 

Alicent wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that. She had wondered why Ser Criston had seemed so upset with Rhaenyra. “Thank you,” Alicent sighed, despite every instinct telling her otherwise, she knew she should meet Rhaenyra’s truth with one of her own. “I didn’t set out to marry your father, or keep it from you. My father strongly suggested I visit him, provide solace in the aftermath of your mother’s death. You’re father asked me not to tell you, I should have regardless.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was close as Alicent felt comfortable getting. 

Rhaenyra gently lifted Aegon from her lap and stood, crossed the room and took Alicent’s bloody and bitten hands her own calloused ones, “Thank you, Alicent.”

[queer-cosette]

oh my god okay the weirdest thing happened at work today. Like this one wins 'weirdest thing that's happened to me while working in retail' and maybe even 'weirdest thing that's happened to me in general'. Like I'm not kidding this was straight up bizarre.

Okay so for those who don't know I work retail at a supermarket, specifically in the online shopping department. And one of my jobs is serving customers who want to collect their online grocery orders in-store rather than pay extra to have them delivered. So I'm outside, I've just finished serving a customer, and another car pulls up, so I take the order name and head inside to get this lady's shopping.

So I'm inside for maybe two minutes, right? Including the time it took me to walk from the collection point to the storage area, and the time it took me to walk back up with her shopping, I'm gone for maybe four minutes. Five tops. And I get back up to the collection point and I notice something lying on the ground on the pavement, right next to the parking bay.

(To explain the geography, the booth is at the side of the store, it consists of two parking spots one behind the other under a canopy, and there's a concrete walkway between the store and the parking spots that goes under the canopy and leads up to the main road behind the store, which itself is perpendicular to a shopping mall with the entrance facing the parking lot.)

So I get closer and I see this black thing lying on the ground, and I'm thinking, "Huh, is that, like, a bin bag? A really crumpled bin bag? That wasn't there five minutes ago, did someone drop a bin bag while I was inside?"

No, not a bin bag. I get close enough to see two distinct cups, and realise that it is, in fact, a bra.

Unworn - it still has the tags on. Victoria's Secret, the most notoriously overpriced store in the mall. Padded, with underwiring, with lace detail and diamanté on the straps. Expensive, definitely - I'm guessing in the range of £70 or more (over $90 in American money). I would NOT pay that much for a bra (the most I've paid for a bra is probably around £40, and the comfiest bra I own came in a pack of 3 for £25 and is in fact so unobtrusive I sometimes forget to take it off before I go to bed) but if I DID pay that much for a bra, I would NOT abandon it on a rain-soaked concrete walkway behind a supermarket.

I'm debating what to do about the bra - do I take a picture? Do I take it inside? Do I pretend not to see it? - when suddenly I hear screaming from the direction of the main road. I turn, slightly nervously, and see a guy barrelling along the walkway towards me at full tilt.

He looks to be between 30 and 45, with a full beard, and he's clutching a Victoria's Secret shopping bag to his chest. There are lacy bits spilling out the top. And, the most distinctive detail, he's screaming at the top of his lungs. I'm talking horror movie shrieking, like this guy sounds like he's being chased by a hook-handed man wearing a hockey-mask and armed with a chainsaw. There is no one else visible on the walkway.

And this guy sprints past me, snatches up the bra like a criminally-inclined cat swiping a fresh and crispy fish-stick out of a toddler's hand, and takes off in the direction of the mall. Doesn't bother putting the bra in his bag. It's flapping over his shoulder like a double-D lace and diamanté flag of mourning (presumably in honour of his dignity). He's still screaming.

And I'm left standing there, kind of unsure of what I just saw, and the customer gets out of her car and says, almost conversationally, "He was screaming for a while there." And I just have to serve this lady and act like this was a normal experience to have while at work at 5pm on a Saturday. I've had fish thrown at me by customers before, but this couldn't even be excused as an adult temper tantrum. This was, like I said, plain fucking bizarre.

Anyway, like, I don't necessarily like having stories from working in retail, but this one hits different, I think.

[homunculus-argument]

The thing about cultures is that babies really are the same everywhere, and the act of raising an adult who can function in this specific society is cultivating the natural skills this specific individual already had potential for, and minimising the natural and instinctive behaviours they are prone to which this specific culture considers undesirable. Sure, people have their own distinct tempers and personalities from birth, but functional adults are still shaped and formed by carving away from that block of Baby, like you're making a sculpture, whether the starting material is marble or granite.

Because of this, different cultures have different ideas of what sort of behaviour is "acting like a toddler" or "this is what people do", and seeing a fully grown adult person openly and shamelessly behaving in a way that was nipped in the bud in you when you were five years old and embarrassing your family can be shocking. In the past few centuries white westerners have been quick to label peoples of other cultures as "child-like" due to their own egocentric and childish assumption that their own way of living is the only objectively correct one, and not even entertaining the idea that different cultures simply have different outlines of what is, and is not, appropriate adult behaviour.

This is why it's so hard to explain the difference between introvert cultures and extrovert cultures to people who grew up in extrovert cultures. I am going to assume that children of both types are born equally in every people - just as children of different tempers and personalities are born in every other way - but the distinction is in what kind of behaviour is considered mature and is encouraged, and what's considered a personality flaw one should work on.

In extrovert cultures it's polite and good manners to be open and talk to people at every opportunity - they invented the term "small talk" for filler talk you're supposed to fill the air with when neither of you have anything important to say - and it's considered rude to dislike being talked at. In introvert cultures, it's rude to assume that someone wants to be bothered with your chatter. Assuming that a stranger wants to talk would be just as weird and rude as walking up to a stranger's car sitting at the red lights, opening the door and sitting in the passenger's seat, completely unprompted and uninvited.

People from extrovert cultures see introvert culture behaviour as weird, stunted and childish - if you don't know what someone else is thinking, why not just use your words and ask them? Forcing someone to communicate isn't considered abusive, but refusing to comply to these demands somehow is. The idea that someone could just ~intuitively know~ that there is something going on, but never ask what it is, because it's none of your business, sounds absurd.

In introvert cultures, people are expected to have at least some level of sense when and whether their attention, opinions and questions are welcome. It's no different from physical touch - if you can't tell whether someone happily consents to being touched like that, or is simply reluctantly enduring you, you just shouldn't be trusted to be around people at all. Someone demanding open communication is just as absurd and childish as a toddler throwing a tantrum because they want to eat that very one specific piece of food that someone else just put into their own mouth.

And then being more upset when what you forced them to spit out wasn't as nice as what you wanted it to be.

[therottingrota]

Here's 7 times a royal's temper has been mentioned in the press.

*hint: its not Meghan Markle*

1. Imagine the type of power Meghan possesses that makes William throw hands over her😂💀 What's even funnier is that he's calling Meghan "abrasive", "difficult", & "rude" before he starts swearing & proceeds to throw Harry into a dog bowl💀

2. Duchess Difficult? Or shall we say Duke Difficult.

3. I mentioned jokingly that Kate was his babysitter & here we have it again. Wee Willy having a tantrum over cooking and of course Kate has to come and calm him down. She's got the patience of saint💀

4. Yikes. That doesn't sound how he should speak to his old pa😬 I'd almost feel bad for Charles, but then I'm reminded that its probably Chuck & Di's lax parenting that resulted in Willy's behavior.

5. What..? Again Kate portrayed as something akin to a nanny of Wee Willy Wales💀 Also the author making sure to let us know that the things they're throwing are just pillows seems too specific.

6. "He can be a bit of a shouter" How peachy🥴

7. The temper seems to have started in the crib😬 Now little Willy was a toddler so I can't judge him to harshly but it is concerning that he acted so.....bratty at such a young age and again Charles & Diana being lax with Will (& Harry) is what very likely enabled this behavior.

[planetharrie]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Toddler Tantrums

This is also available on my Wattpad @PlanetHarrie.

In which Harry and Lucille’s little doll of a daughter turns two and into a diva, causing mayhem in the household.. 👧🏡🧸

⭐️

The Terrible Twos; The phase neither Harry or Lucille had been looking forward to, at ALL. Having it only been a week since their little Opal had turned two, all of the sudden she'd become angry, whiny and clingy—mainly towards her mother. And with Lucille being less than a month away from giving birth to their second child, she did not having the patience or physical ability to tame a screaming and kicking child.

One night, after a 5 hour-long battle with Opal to get her into bed, Lucille had snapped and broke down to Harry in their bedroom. She was exhausted and burnt-out. The biting and scratching had caused red marks up her forearms but overall, the sound of her precious one wailing and screaming 'I hate you!’ had broke her.

Harry had been helping as much as he could, but Opal seemed to only want her mother; whether it be physically clinging onto Lucille's leg or screaming in her face 'I want a new mummy!', Opal would not let Harry pick her up and would cover her little ears every time he tried to speak to her.

So, one Saturday, Harry forced his wife out of the house for a day out with her sister and mum for some much-needed girl-time and shopping; leaving Harry to deal with the devil.

It was only ten-thirty AM and Opal had already kicked off; what had started off as a cute chasing-game as Harry raced after Opal, who'd escaped the bath and refused to get dressed, had turned into tears.

"Opal, Daddy wants you to get dressed—OW!" Harry was knelt in the middle of the hallway, holding Opal in his chest when she squirmed and head-butted his chin, "No hitting! That's very naughty; You've hurt Daddy!" He tasted that bitter, metallic taste on his tongue and grimaced.

"N-No, Dada!" She continued to squirm in his grasp, pushing her arms into his chest in attempt of escaping. She let out an echoing screech when a shirt was suddenly pulled over her head and began arching her back as she fought. Harry, with his immaculate and impressive amount of patience, calmly cooed and shushed her gently.

"You can't go out and play without clothes on, baby."

Opal was a proper girly-girl; she loved wearing pink and having Lucille paint her little nails and plait her fawn-brown curls. She loved surprising her Dad with her new look, twirling and smiling as she showed him her outfit. This behaviour was completely out of the ordinary for her, and every tantrum was like a beating to the body for both parents.

"Daddy! P-Please," A sob wracked her voice and Harry instantly let go, sighing with defeat as Opal clambered off his lap and stood in front of him. Her curls were still wet from her bath and her cheeks and eyes were red and puffy.

"I hate you!" She screamed, clenching her fists and running past into the living room, still undressed.

"Fuck." Harry dragged his hand down his face. He was angry—furious even—but also heartbroken. He'd watched many episodes of Super Nanny but he never thought he'd actually have to deal with such horrific temper tantrums from such a small being. Maybe she's hungry? He thought for a second, but rolled his eyes and pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He got up from his kneeling position. His knees clicked as he stood and waddled into the kitchen. He silently began clearing up breakfast. The dining table had spilt Cheerios and milk and juice all over it's oak top and Harry prayed that nothing would stain.

A little while had passed. Harry had eaten an apple, made a smoothie for himself, done the dishes and was currently sat on a stool scrolling through his phone as he waited for a pan of beans to heat up on the stove. Beans on toast was Opal's favourite meal ever since she'd caught an awful stomach bug a few weeks back. It was also Lucille's comfort food too, hence why it was offered to Opal for her try. Harry hoped that this early lunch would win Opal around so that they can have a talk together.

Harry looked up from his phone when he heard a faint, "Daddy.." from somewhere in the house. He hadn't heard a peep from her since she'd stormed off and he slightly feared that she was coming back for another round.

Little bare feet pattered into the kitchen. Opal stood in the doorway, still undressed in her nappy and her hair dry but knotted. In her hands was a piece of paper.

"Daddy, I called you an' you didn' answer.." She mumbled with a pout.

"Sorry, baby, I didn't hear you.." Harry lied. He put his phone on the counter and gave his daughter his full attention. "Have you come to tell me somethin'?" He hoped she'd come to make peace and apologise. Harry, she two-years-old. What two-year-old says sorry willingly? He told himself.

Opal stared blankly at the floor, swaying slightly on her feet before gently passing him the piece of paper. "I made it while you was mad,"

Harry took it gracefully. It was a drawing of three stick figures; one tall stickman, a smaller one wearing a tutu and a medium-sized one with—what Harry guessed to be—a baby bump. He chuckled at her sweet attempt of drawing the family. Red 'hearts' were dotted around the page and in the corner (very, very small) was a written 'sorey' underlined in purple gel-pen. Harry's heart swelled and he bent down on the stool and offered his arm out to bring her in for a side-hug.

"Thank you, my baby. This is very kind of you, well done!" He squeezed out a little giggle from her, "But I wasn't mad, I could never get mad at you, Opie."

She pulled away and chewed on her lip, "I'm still sowey, though.."

"I know you are. You can't keep being nasty to Mummy and me. It's not nice, is it?"

She shook her head.

"I think Mummy deserves an apology too, don't you?"

"Mhm! I will run up to her the second she comes into my room and I'll scream it and hug her and I'll never ever be mean again!" She grinned, showing her baby teeth; Harry hadn't seen her smile properly in a little while. "And I'll even draw her another drawin'"

"That's a very good idea, baby!" She grinned again and her eyes wandered up to the hissing noise from the stove.

"Are you making beans on toast?!" Her voice raised an octave in excitement.

"Yup! Your favourite, hm?" Harry picked up his little girl to help him stir the beans. They turned up the radio and sang and danced along to ME! by Taylor Swift, which was Opal's favourite. The two settled down on the sofa with a tray each with a portion of beans on toast steaming on their laps and Opal requested that they watch Trolls as she ate.

-

Lucille came home a few hours later with some bags of shopping and a take-away pizza, surprised when she was not greeted by neither her hyper-clingy daughter or knackered husband. Placing the bags onto the kitchen counter, she entered the dimly-lit living room only to find her two curled up on the couch asleep with the end-credits of Trolls displayed on the TV. Harry's head was tilted back against the sofa with Opal's head laid on a pillow on his lap. She had orange sauce around her mouth and was cocooned cutely in a blanket. Lucille smiled and ran her hand gently over her large, pregnant stomach before spotting a drawing on the coffee table. In bright letters was 'Sorry Mummy!' Lucille laughed to herself softly and assumed Harry had helped her as there was no way Opal could spell either of those words without help. Harry stirred and lifted his head up from the back of the couch, rubbing sleep from his eye. He glanced up and spotted his wife.

"Oh—hi, love." He rasped.

"Hi." She smiled, running her hand through his hair. "Busy day?" She teased, and by Harry's look on his face, she already knew the answer.

"Busy is an understatement."

⭐️

[cielettosa]

you levi stans always believing that levi is still the most popular aot character. bro was surpassed by season 4 eren and now levi is just completely irrelevant. levi isn’t even iconic any longer. the anime just made him a cold badass and took everything that made him special in the manga away. everyone just thinks he is fan service and is annoyed when he appears in anything now (official arts, bad boy). aot may fade away but the one people will remember is eren and it shows. he is the one with constant interactions, likes, and google searches. honestly pretty sure mikasa tops levi in popularity by now too. levi has fallen from his high perch and turned into an irrelevant worthless loser to the masses. it’s honestly what you levi stans deserve for hating on eren all those years before the time skip.

anyways proof below along with the anime corner poll at the end of the year. https://x.com/justmeight/status/1791195643815637415?s=46&t=opIHY9xYZlEjLmRQ4bbogA

Hey angry warrior,

This is a popularity poll from japan

Listen, hiding behind anonymity like a cockroach under a fridge doesn't exactly make your opinion on Levi sound profound. Maybe if you crawled out from under your rock and signed your name, your critique might hold some weight.

Here you are, complaining about a character you supposedly think is irrelevant, yet you're obsessed enough to write a hate-mail manifesto.

If you think Levi's just a "cold badass" stereotype, then you clearly haven't been paying attention. Maybe actually delve into some character analysis before you try to school others.

scarletskiesinthepaths and cosmicjoke has some good analysis. And I have written some too, and I am linking them too.

people whines about "fan service" with "Bad Boy" yet spout nonsense about Levi's popularity fading. Pick a lane, genius!

Levi fan art annoying people? Honey, the only thing getting annoyed is probably the internet struggling to render all the glorious Levi content.

Levi is Eren's mentor. Let that sink in. The guy you claim is "irrelevant" literally shaped the protagonist you idolize. And guess what? Mentors often fade into thebackground as their students grow. It doesn't diminish their importance, it's simply the natural order of things.

You are overlooking the fact that Levi is the character who is frequently written about in fanfictions within the Attack on Titan fandom.

Levi may have lost some shine in your eyes, but to claim Mikasa dethroned him? Now that's some Grade A delusion. News flash: Popularity contests aren't won by saltyinternet rants.

Popularity contests change faster than your bedsheets, but characters like Levi endure. Most people don't spend their days fuming about fictional characters. Maybe take a shower, touch some grass, and realize the world doesn't revolve around your internet vendettas.broaden your horizons. Look beyond internet hype and explore what truly makes a character compelling. Maybe then you'll understand why Levi remains a fan favorite, his legacy secure long after the fleeting popularity of season 4 fades like a bad spray tan. Until then, keep your uninformed opinions to yourself, and perhaps consider a rewatch of AoT with a more discerning eye.

You clutch that "Levi-is-washed-up" theory like a participation trophy, but the evidence is about as reliable as a toddler's drawing of a spaceship. Let's dissect this "proof" of yours, shall we? Someone tweeted a college of characters they think are iconic? Wow, groundbreaking. Next, you'll be citing crayon scribbles on a bathroom stall as gospel.

You have the right to dislike Levi, but whining about popularity polls is the height of internet fandom tears.

Real criticism goes beyond "your husbando didn't win!"

So ditch the temper tantrum and try constructing an actual argument. Levi might not be your cup of tea, but resorting to popularity contests is just pure embarrassing

Broaden your horizons. Look beyond the surface hype and delve into what makes a character truly captivating. Until you have that epiphany, keep your ill-informed opinions to yourself, and maybe give Attack on Titan another go, this time with an actual brain in tow.

Analysis by me:

Levi Ackerman: Why he is Humanity's Strongest Soldier

Levi and Kenny

How Levi utilizes his intellect in fighting and decision making and his leadership in final battle

Levi Ackerman (an overall analysis? My first one so it's not good)

Entire discourse:

Gojo is better than Levi:

https://www.tumblr.com/cinyemina/743823703078518784/gojo-vs-levi-whs-better-i-think-gojo?source=share

Gojo is better than Levi because he is more popular:

https://www.tumblr.com/cinyemina/744103319358865408/well-gojo-beat-levi-in-the-anime-corner-popularity?source=share

People lacks individuality and follows hype:

https://www.tumblr.com/cinyemina/748344782599913472/its-sad-that-people-are-so-insecure-that-they?source=share (no discourse here)

Levi is not a well written character because he is "not popular":

https://www.tumblr.com/cinyemina/748700520518172672/popularity-does-matter-and-helps-measure-a?source=share

[asteria-argo]

oh? my? god? Jamie being magiced into a four year old sounds hilarious and adorable

YEAH, I watched a Ben 10 episode about the fountain of youth when I was in my formative years and the trope imprinted itself onto my brain so now I'm obsessed with it.

There's so much potential for shenanigans especially with season one Jamie. Pre character development Jamie that still acts kind of like a feral cat is blasted with some ghost magic and turned into a little baby and he's just as bitchy as before but it doesn't have the same effect. He's got a lisp, he has to sit in a car seat, his little baby fingers don't have the fine motor skills needed to tie his own shoelaces. No ones going to take mean things a toddler says to heart.

he's a little kid size with little kid emotions and all his adult memories, so it leads to fun things where he absolutely refuses to leave Roy's side, because That's Roy Kent, even when he's still actively insisting that he thinks Roy's old and annoying.

The team themselves think he's adorable, Isaac will just pick him up and carry him around unprompted all the time. Between the entire team passing him around, Jamie's feet barely touch the ground.

He'd keep trying to join in training too, but he's four now and they're all grown adults and he can't keep up and it frustrates him so much every time he's too slow or he trips over the ball, because he's so used to being able to do these things perfectly, and every time anyone tries to tell him he's just,, too little to do it now he gets So MAD. There'd be so many temper tantrums, which isn't that different because Jamie has always thrown a good tantrum even when he was a grown up, but he is pickupable now and susceptible to the powers of being held and rocked until he calms down.

[writing-abt-headspaces]

Mishap At The Moth’s Studio (Part 4)

A/N: Okay, so Vox is actually my favorite of the Vees. (A.k.a The one I pay attention to the most.) So, be prepared for him to be the softest one of the three here.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Finally, they made it to the makeshift nursery. The moth slowly made his way to the adult-sized crib, while rocking the little spider in his arms to keep him asleep.

“Rock a bye Angel, snoring about. Please stay asleep, don’t freak the fuck out…” Valentino aggressively sang, as he cradled the spider. Angel kept stirring awake, whenever he heard the slightest noise of the moth’s squeaking.

“Tino, stop making that noise!” Velvette quietly hissed at the moth demon.

“Fuck off! It’s not something I can control!” Valentino hissed back, finally making it to the crib.

Angel was gently placed inside the crib, still sleeping peacefully to his heart’s content, sucking on his pacifier, all curled up into himself.

Vox, who eventually recovered from his hysteric episode, reached into the crib and pulled up the blanket near Angel’s feet to cover the rest of him. He sighed, looking down at the spider with a mix of frustration and…. mild affection. Angel kind of looked like an actual child like this….

He shakes the feelings away, “Alright, he's settled for now."

Velvette sighed, leaning against the crib. "So, what do we do when he wakes up?"

Vox simply shrugged, “We’ll crossed the bridge when we get there…”

Valentino groaned, rubbing his temples. "Babysitting a regressed spider demon was not on my to do list today…."

Vox shot him a sharp look. “Well, maybe if you didn’t push him so hard, we wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s a scared toddler now, because of you. Just deal with it."

If anyone noticed Vox’s tone change to sounding a bit more protective, they didn’t point it out.

It’s no surprise to anyone in this building, that Vox was never really a fan of Angel Dust. Considering this stupid fucking spider was the number one reason Valentino is always bitching about and throwing his stupid temper tantrums, adding more work to the TV demon’s already busy everyday life, but damn… if he didn’t secretly have a soft spot for kids…

He had a long list of sins that condemned him to hell, longer than the combined height of himself and his business partners stacked up on top of each other, but harming children in any way wasn’t one of them.

During his days hosting the news, topside, he’d dox people, spill information or twist the truth, fabricate or exaggerate the appearance of a crime scene, ruin reputations of celebrities and political figures, for the sake of good television (and good pay. I mean, he had to make a living after all). But, if there’s one thing he respected, it would be the choices of the children involved in crimes he had to make reports on.

He offers to play a small game with them, in exchange for some information on the crime they witnessed or were the victims in, and even promises to blur their faces and leave them unnamed. And he was a man of his word; kept his end of the bargain all the time.

Vox was no saint, he wasn’t someone worthy of heaven, and he was even proud of that fact. But, he has his soft spots. And that would be child innocence.

He once again shakes the thoughts away and coughs. “I’ll continue the rest of my work here…”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Vox walked to the other side of the room as he speaks, “Val, Velvette, you can leave and tend to your own work, but make sure to come here as soon as possible whenever I call for your assistance.”

He reaches for the laptop left on the table next to the door, which he had asked Papermint to leave for him, and turned it on, aleady opening files and typing away.

He suddenly felt eyes on him, and turned back to the other two. “What?”

Velvette’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, “Okay. What the fuck is up with you?”

Valentino leaned against the crib, folding his upper set of arms and placing one of his power hands on his hip, as he glanced between Vox and Velvette, intrigued. Velvette's directness often amused him, especially when directed at Vox, who could sometimes be too composed for his own good.

Vox paused momentarily, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he assessed Velvette’s judging gaze. "What do you mean?" he replied, maintaining his cool demeanor.

"You’re being weird.” Velvette said, uncrossing her arms to gesture vaguely at Vox. "First, you fussed over Angel like an insomniac nanny, on our way here—“

“Because I fucking dropped him.” Vox cut her off. “What was I supposed to do? Not worry about what would happen if we permanently damaged his brain? He could stay stuck like this you know?”

Velvette chose to ignore that horrifying possibility and continued, “Then you snapped at Tino like you're his mother."

Valentino snickered under his breath. The other two assumed, he was trying to hold in a ‘I can call you ‘mommy’ if you want?’ joke.

Vox's brow furrowed slightly, betraying a hint of irritation. "I'm merely ensuring we handle this situation with the necessary care. This isn't just about managing Angel; it's about safeguarding our operations here at the V Tower."

Velvette raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Suure. But, how do you explain this… protective attitude over itsy bitsy.”

Vox shot her a stern look, his jaw tightening briefly before he composed himself again. "Like I said, this isn’t about Angel." he stated firmly. "It's about maintaining stability and avoiding unnecessary attention. The last thing we need is a scandal."

Velvette sighed, recognizing that there WAS validity in Vox's concern. "Fair enough," she admitted, relaxing her stance.

Vox sighed quietly, turning back to his laptop. "Good. Now, let me focus on my work.”

Valentino shrugged, straightening up from the crib’s side. "I'm going back to my studio to check what scenes I can still get done without Angel."

Velvette followed behind Valentino, “And I’m going back to working on my designs.”

Vox nodded, acknowledging their leave. "Good. We'll reconvene if anything changes."

The three of them dispersed to their respective duties, leaving Angel sleeping peacefully in his crib, and Vox working on the other side of the room.

.•.•.

Vox was fully immersed in his work, his eyes didn’t leave the screen despite feeling tired. Until small coughing and gurgling noises, pulled him out of his focus.

He turned around and sees Angel, pushing himself up to bend over the crib, spitting out his pacifier and throwing up a bit of the milk he drank on the floor.

“Tummy hurt…” Angel quietly muttered, sounding like he was trying to hold in tears. He was definitely still in his headspace.

Vox immediately went to Angel, grabbing a couple of rags from the supplies drawers, and wiping down the mess on the floor before using another rag to wipe off the mess on the spider’s face.

“The fuck happened to you? I’m sure that milk was—Oh.” His confusion turned to realization. “I forgot to burp you before letting you sleep, didn’t I?”

The little spider looked at the TV demon timidly, hesitantly holding his hands up and making grabby motions.

Vox sighed, “My bad, kiddo. Should’ve remembered to do that after the bottle.”

He hooked his hands under Angel’s underarms, and used all his strength to pull him up. “Up you go.”

Ignoring the burn of humiliation he was feeling, he sat himself down on the nearest chair, and adjusted Angel’s position on his lap.

“Oh my fucking god, what the fuck am I doing…?” Vox muttered under his breath as he landed gentle pats on the spider’s back. Angel rested his head on Vox’s shoulder, hugging him tightly.

The position was a bit awkward, due to the fact that Angel and Vox were almost the same height, but the TV demon tried to push that aside, as he tried getting Angel to burp.

As Vox gently patted Angel's back, he felt discomfort. This wasn't the usual stuff on his to do list—caring for someone so fragile and innocent. Yet here he was, comforting the regressed pornstar who had found himself in an unexpected state of vulnerability.

Angel squirmed slightly, his little hands grasping at Vox's shirt as he burped softly, some milk residue bubbling up from his tiny mouth. The spider demon let out a small hiccup, then settled against Vox's shoulder, his eyes half-closed with fatigue.

Vox sighed inwardly, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

"You alright there, kid?" Vox murmured, trying to sound reassuring despite his own uncertainty. He continued to pat Angel's back gently, feeling the spider demon's tension slowly easing.

Angel nodded weakly, mumbling something incoherent as he clung to Vox's shirt, and burped a second time.

“Ready to go back to sleep?” Vox asked the little spider.

Suddenly getting a second wind, Angel’s eyes shot open and he wiggled out of Vox’s lap.

“No! Not sleepy anymore!” Angel said, crawling around the floor, looking for something to do.

Vox watched with exasperation as Angel, now energized, crawled around the nursery floor in search of something to occupy his newfound wakefulness.

“Alright then, what do you want to do?" Vox asked, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh. He scanned the room, taking in the various toys and books that he discreetly ordered, hoping any of these would catch the spider demon's interest. There was even a playpen, in the corner of the room, big enough for the spider to move around in.

Angel, however, seemed more intent on exploring. He crawled around, back and forth until he grew tired and went back to Vox.

Angel patted Vox’s knee to get his attention. “Bored…” He says.

Vox was about to tell Angel to try out the coloring books on the shelf, so he can get back to work. But, an idea sparked in his mind.

He looked down at Angel, and once more, put on his best showman face. “Wanna play a game with me?”

Angel’s eyes lit up, and he rapidly nodded his head. “Yeah!”

Vox smiled at him, “Okay. The game is called knock knock—“

“Who’sh there?” Angel answered almost immediately.

Vox actually snorted at that, but shook his head. “No… Not a knock knock joke. It’s called Knock-Knock-Freeze.” He says as he recalled one of the few games he made up to entertain the children he had to question.

This one was his favorite to use, since it always made the kids feel like it was a fair deal; whoever wins, will decide if they stay quiet or tell the truth. Being bigger and faster, Vox of course, always one. But, he’d let them have fun by prolonging the chase.

Vox starts explaining as he points at the wall, “I’ll stand over there and face the wall, away from you, and I’ll knock on it three times. Then after knocking three times, I’ll turn around to see if you’re moving. While you, have to move forward everytime I’m looking away and freeze everytime I turn to look at you, until your close enough to tag me.”

“And then…?” Angel asks, tilting his head.

“When you tag me, I have to chase you, and if I catch you, I win. And if I win, you have to answer some questions I want to ask you, okay? Promise?” Vox instructed.

“O’tay! I pwomise!” Angel said, excitedly.

Vox nodded his head, and walked towards the wall, keeping his back towards Angel.

He brought he knuckles towards the walls, and knocked. “One. Two. Three. —Freeze!” He quickly turned around to look at the little spider.

Angel had been mid-crawl, freezing instantly when Vox turned around. He stayed perfectly still, his wide eyes locked on Vox, who took a moment to scan him for any movement.

“Good job,” Vox said with a smirk, then turned back to the wall to knock again. “One. Two. Three. —Freeze!”

This time, Angel managed to move a bit closer before stopping abruptly when Vox spun around again. The TV demon kept a keen eye out for any slight movements but found none.

Angel giggled, enjoying the game immensely. Vox continued the cycle of knocking and turning, and Angel moved closer with each round, his excitement growing. On the final turn, Angel was close enough to tag Vox’s leg, but he waited for the perfect moment.

Vox, who knew Angel was just right behind him, purposely knocked much slower this time. “One… Two… Three…” and then he slowly turned his head.

Before he could even say “freeze,” Angel lunged forward, tagging him with a triumphant squeal.

“Got you!” Angel shouted, his body vibrating with excitement.

“Aren’t you good at this?” Vox grinned, “Alright, now it’s my turn to catch you.”

Angel’s eyes widened in playful fear, and he scampered off, his movements quick and uncoordinated. Vox gave chase, deliberately moving slower to prolong the game. The room echoed with Angel’s delighted laughter as he dodged and weaved around furniture.

Finally, Vox lunged, carefully wrapping his arms around the little spider and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Caught you!” he announced, laughing along with Angel.

Angel panted, still giggling. “O’tay! TV man wins!”

Vox sat back down, settling Angel in his lap. “Now for my questions,” he said, his tone softening. “Can you tell me the name of your caregiver?”

Angel’s smile went away as soon as he heard that. He looked away and stayed quiet.

“Hey, kid. You promised to answer me.” Vox pushed, but didn’t raise his voice.

“Don’ ‘ave one…” Angel answered quietly.

“What?” Vox blinked in confusion.

“I don’ ‘ave anyone to take care of me…” Angel answered more clearly.

“You mean… no one at the hotel takes care of you, when you’re like this?” Vox asked further.

“Uh-uh…” Angel shook his head. “Didn’ wanna tell em. I’ll be prob’em to them… I go small by myself. But Nuggy’s there…!”

Ah. So, he copes by himself.

It seems that the happy go lucky princess of hell, rubbed off on Angel; he doesn’t want to bother anyone with his own issues. Or was he always this reserved when it came to his personal problems? Vox doesn’t really know.

It’s a complete head scratcher how he hasn’t broken down into his littlespace in public, much sooner. How does a little take care of themself, with only a pet to keep watch of them?

They should have a caregiver assigned to them. Or a babysitter, at least.

“Well, you’re gonna need someone to take care of you, kid. You can’t always be by yourself. You don’t want this to happen again in front of more people now, do you?” Vox asked, trying to convince Angel.

“No…” Angel shook his head.

Vox gave Angel gentle pets on his head. “Good. Now… do you remember the password to your phone even when your small?”

Angel looked up at his screen innocently, “Why?”

“So, we can call up your friends back at the hotel to—“

“Nooo! No! No! No!” Angel cut him off, and started thrashing about in Vox’s lap.

Vox tightened his grip slightly to prevent Angel from falling off his lap. “Hey, calm down. What’s wrong with calling your friends?”

Angel continued to thrash, his face contorting with fear and panic. “They’ll hate me! They’ll think I’m weird! I don’ wan them to know!”

Vox sighed deeply, trying to think of a way to reassure the little spider without escalating the situation further.

He’s not one to talk about the ‘power of love or friendship’ and all that bullshit. But, he knows one thing for sure after watching that one interview with Katie Killjoy. Lucifer’s brat, is too sugar sweet for Vox to picture her making fun of Angel’s classification, let alone judge him for it.

He’s not sure about the other hotel staff, but the princess would definitely be all mother hen over the little spider. Vox wouldn’t even be surprised if her classification was a caregiver too. She could probably provide him with much better care and supplies. Fuck! Angel would be a nepo baby if Charlotte Morningstar was the one looking after him!

“Angel—“

“Can you do it? You’re really nice!” Angel pleaded with the TV demon.

“…What!?” Vox almost let go of his grip on Angel.

“Pwomise I won’ be bad whenever I’m big again! I’ll be good! Big or small.” Angel continued to beg. “I just don’ wanna be my friends prob’em!”

Vox was flabbergasted.

What the fuck was his mindset? He’d rather be taken care of by the TV demon, than the puppy dogs and sunshine loving princess of hell? All because he thinks he might burden her?

He glanced over at Valentino and Velvette, who he finally noticed were watching from the doorway.

“Val, Velvette, a little help?” Vox called out.

Velvette stepped forward, “Well, what the fuck happened here?”

“Do you want the bad news or the worse news first?” Vox asked.

Valentino walked in as well, already not liking what Vox would say. “Where’s the good news?”

“Unavailable.”

“Bad news then…” Velvette reluctantly said.

“So, bad news… Angel doesn’t have an assigned caregiver. Nor does he have anyone back at the hotel who knows about his classification. He’s been coping on his own.” Vox answered.

It wouldn’t exactly be bad news for them, if it weren’t for the fact that they’ll have to deal with Angel, if he doesn’t have any other lap they can plop him down on.

“And the worse news…?” Valentino dared ask.

Vox loosened his grip on Angel, nervously looking away from the other two. “Uh… I think he might’ve imprinted on me.”

Velvette and Valentino exchanged incredulous glances, then turned their attention back to Vox with bemused expressions.

"You're kidding, right?" Valentino's voice betrayed a mix of amusement and disbelief. "He's imprinted on you? Voxxy, I didn't think you were into that kind of thing~” He teased, earning a sharp look from Vox.

"Don’t turn this into fucking Twilight! You know very well, that’s not what I meant!" Vox retorted, his tone serious. "He's just... attached, I guess. He asked me to take care of him, said he doesn't want to be a problem for anyone else."

Velvette let out an exaggerated groan, rubbing her temples. "So, let me get this straight… the little baby bitch doesn’t have a caregiver, AND NOW he wants you, to be the one to take care of him?"

Vox nodded reluctantly. "That's about the size of it. And while I'm… kinda flattered with how attached he is, it's not practical. I’m not even classified as a caregiver. We need to find someone from the hotel who can do this."

Valentino, who had been quietly thinking, groaned. “Looks like we have to convince him…. But, we have to do it the ‘doting way’…”

He tried to hide his displeasure, as he bent down to meet Angel’s eyes. “Angelcakes… pequeño… I get that you don’t want to bother your… friends, but this isn't about being a problem. It's about making sure you're safe and cared for. The ‘TV man’ here can't do this all the time, and you need someone who can be there for you whenever you… uh… regress."

Angel pouted, looking between the three demons. "But... I don’t want to be trouble..."

Velvette knelt down to Angel's level.

Great. Time to talk ‘sappy’.

She mustered up the gentlest voice she could speak in. "Listen, Itsy Bitsy, your friends at the hotel care about you. They won’t think you're weird. In fact, I’m sure they’d want to help you. The princess, I know for sure would be ecstatic of this. Don’t you think it’d be nice for a princess to take care of you?”

Angel fidgeted, looking down at his hands. "I guess so…”

Vox, sensing a moment of vulnerability, joined in. "Well, I know so. Miss Bleeding Heart—err… Her majesty, is the kind of person who would go out of her way to make sure you're taken care of. She’s got a big heart. But you have to let her know. Keeping this to yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

Then he added, “The three of us are busy most of the time. We only made these adjustments today, because of what happened. Of course, it doesn’t mean we won’t be watching over you from time to time—“

“Wait. What—“

“Shut up, Val.” Vox momentarily tore his gaze from the spider to shoot the moth a glare. “Unless you plan on tearing apart his contract, we really can’t avoid having to babysit again. I’m trying to negotiate here!”

He returns his gaze to Angel, “We’ll help out whenever we can, okay kid? But you need a primary caregiver who knows you and can be there when you need them."

Angel’s eyes welled up with tears, but he nodded slowly. "O’tay... I’ll try to talk to Char’ie."

Vox smiled encouragingly, pinching the spider’s cheek. “That’s the spirit. And who knows, she might even make it fun for you."

Angel sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. "O’tay... I’ll do it."

Vox felt a sense of relief wash over him. "Good. Now, Mr. Butterfly is going to get your phone and we’ll call up your friend."

Though he grumbled curses under his breath from the nickname, Valentino went to retrieve Angel’s phone anyway.

He returned, and tossed the phone to Vox without warning.

If it weren’t for the moth doing that countless of times in the past already, it would have caught Vox off guard. But the TV demon caught it, unfazed.

“Hey sport, I’m gonna need the password now.” Vox wave the phone infront of Angel.

“My cake day…” Angel answers.

“Cake day?” Vox repeated, raising a brow.

“He probably means his birthday.” Velvette said.

“Val, what’s his birthday?” Vox looked up at the moth.

Valentino’s distasteful face turned into a nervous smile. “Um…” He looked away, while messaging his chin, trying to recall the birthdate.

“Wow, Val. Fuck you.” Vox said bluntly.

The moth spread all his arms out in exasperation, “Oh what!? Like I had time to remember the bitchy twink’s birthday!?”

“Well, it’s kinda important right now!” Vox said, trying not to crush the phone in his fist.

Angel watched the exchange nervously, still clutching onto Vox's shirt. He suddenly remembered something and piped up, "Silly pranks day! That's my cake day!"

“April first.” Velvette translated, though she didn’t really need to.

Vox typed the number of the month and date on the phone, and sure enough, it unlocked. He quickly navigated through the contacts to find the princess’ number.

- (Bomb-bastic Baddie 🍒💣)

- (Tiny Psycho🪡🔪)

- (Vagina👁️❌)

- (My Hubby😻)

- (Sunshine Bitch☀️)

- (Gimp Pimp😒)

He decided not mention the contact names. Especially, “Gimp Pimp” and whoever the fuck “My Hubby” could be. The last thing Vox needed was for Valentino to become a second whiney baby to handle.

He clicked on Sunshine Bitch, knowing it was most likely the princess’ number. He hit the call button and put the phone on speaker.

The phone rang a few times before a cheerful voice answered, “Hello! This is Charlie Morningstar!”

Shit. A voice recording…

“I’m not on the phone right now. But, please leave a message after the beep, and I promise to get to you. BEEEEP!” The cheerful voice giggled at her imitation of the actual beep which followed just after.

Vox sighed and held the phone up to his face, “Princess Morningstar, good afternoon… This is Mr. Vox, speaking through Angel’s phone, I’m sure you know me. Don’t worry, Angel is safe and unharmed. But, we do need you to come over here as soon as you get this message. I won’t specify the situation, as to not worry you. Just make sure to come here soon, and we’ll explain everything.”

When he finished he sent his voice message.

“Looks like we have to wait, for her majesty to receive the message…” Vox said handing the phone to Velvette, who placed it down on the desk.

“Can I color, while waiting?” Angel asked, with sparkling eyes.

Vox shrugged, “Sure kid. But, can do it in the playpen. My legs are sore, from you sitting on me.”

He sat up from the chair, and picked Angel up and gently placed him on the floor, so the spider can crawl his way to the playpen.

As Angel crawled into the playpen, he immediately spotted a box of crayons and coloring books nearby. Without hesitation, he grabbed a few crayons and a book filled with different cartoonish hellspawn animals to color in. As he sat down on the soft foam padding and flipped through the pages, he began to hum a tune to himself, completely engrossed in his newfound activity.

Meanwhile, Vox sat back down and absentmindedly watched Angel color. Valentino stood nearby, idly tapping his nails against his arm, his mind clearly preoccupied with thoughts of his own. Velvette leaned against the wall, sketching away in her sketchbook, that Vox only now took notice of, and the very thing she’s drawing in it.

“What is that?” Vox pointed at the drawing Velvette was occupying herself with.

“Hm? Oh.” The woman lifted the pad for Vox to see. “Since, you said we’d still have to deal with him, when he regresses at work, I decided to design some ‘littlespace clothes’ for, Itsy Bitsy.”

“Why? What’s wrong with what he’s wearing right now?” Vox asked.

Velvette rolled her eyes, “I don’t care if he’s got baby brains. I ain’t letting anyone here prance or crawl around in a tacky oversized sweater and ugly Christmas socks.”

Valentino snickered at Velvette's blunt response. "Hey, those socks are comfy, alright? But I guess if you're designing something, it better be sexy and stylish."

Velvette shot him a deadpan look. "This is for a toddler, not a nightclub."

"Hey, you never know," Valentino teased, winking at Vox. "The little pequeño could use some glam even in his smaller form."

Vox sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let's focus on practicality here. He needs clothes that are comfortable and safe. We don't want anything that could be dangerous or inappropriate. Remember Val, this isn’t the same Angel right now.”

“Right. Fine….” The moth turned away.

Velvette nodded in agreement. "Of course, I'm thinking soft fabrics, easy to wash, nothing with choking hazards or irritating seams. But, it would still look stunning!”

Vox’s face scrunched up in concern, “Toddlers and Tiaras stunning? Or—“

“Ew. No! Never fucking bring that up to me ever again!” Velvette glared at Vox. “I meant MY STYLE stunning. ‘Velvette’ stunning! As all my brands have always been.”

Suddenly an idea sparked in the woman’s eyes. “Wait! That’s perfect!” She exclaimed, standing up.

“What is?” Valentino asked the woman.

“We can turn this into a new part of our business! We can sell clothes, for littles! We can drag more people in, since there are barely any baby supplies in hell! Save for hellborn babies, but I bet ‘littles’ don’t have much for themselves down here.” Velvette said to her business partners. “We can even get good publicity from this! If they think we care about littles, we’d be gaining more trust!”

“I already thought of a name for the brand: ‘Little Angels’ by Velvette! Place your trust in us, like your littles trust you!”

“That’s great and all Vel, but the whole regressed Angel thing is supposed to be a secret remember?” Vox said to the woman. “Angel Dust being a little won’t look good on the news, especially since all of hell knows he works under Val.”

Velvette rolled her eyes again, and groaned. “Ugh! So? We can just twist the story! Instead of Angel Dust himself being a little, let’s say it was either one of my employees or yours. And….” She snaps her fingers trying to come up with an alternate story.

“Angel came accross them, regressing, while preparing for a pinup shoot. And then he says he’s a caregiver! So, Valentino gave him time off to take care of them. And then that’s when we came up with the idea to design clothes for littles! And the brand name.”

Vox considered Velvette's proposal, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That's... actually not a bad cover story," he admitted. "It deflects attention from Angel and, we don’t have to worry about any caregivers antagonizing us."

Velvette grinned, clearly pleased with the positive response. "Exactly! This is too fucking good of an opportunity to ignore!”

Velvette turned to Angel. “Itsy bitsy, can you stand up?”

Angel looked up from his coloring book, as he processed what Velvette had asked.

“Uh-uh… legs wobbly…” Angel answered shaking his head.

Velvette waved it off, “That’s fine. I think I can work with your current position.”

Using her powers, she waved her hands in the air to change Angel’s clothes, into one of the cute onesies she designed. She continued to swipe right until the perfect outfit appeared on Angel; a frilly yellow dress, with puffy sleeves.

“Perfect!” Velvette exclaimed, enthusiastically.

“Ooh…!” Angel looked down at himself, and fiddled with the frills of the dress’ top, and kicked his feet at his new socks. They were more fitted, but comfortable thin white cotton, with blues bows decorating the toe ends of the socks. And his bottom was even more covered up by the dress going down to his knees.

Angel starts giggling, “Pretty!”

Velvette went up and pinched his cheeks, and cooed at him. “Who’s our sweet little bundle of political gain! You are! Yes you are~ Aren’t you just the cutest cash cow!”

Angel blinked up at her confused.

Vox snickered, shaking his head. "You're gonna scare the kid, Vel. Tone it down a bit."

Velvette rolled her eyes but complied, letting go of Angel's cheeks. "Fine, fine. But you have to admit, now that he’s in this dress, he’s kinda cute now. It'll definitely sell."

Angel continued to fiddle with the hem of his new dress, clearly enjoying the attention. "Pwetty! Thank you, Betty!"

Velvette's eye twitched at the nickname but she forced a smile. "You're welcome, Itsy Bitsy.”

Angel paused in his giggling, and suddenly stared off to nowhere, looking like he’s trying to concentrate on something.

And that something bloomed into a bright red hue of shame across his face, and a noxious scent all over the air.

Vox and Velvette didn’t realize what the spider had just done, until they noticed Valentino had bolted out of the room.

The other two exchanged a horrified glance, their noses wrinkling as the foul odor spread through the room.

“Did he just—” Velvette began, her eyes widening.

“Yes. Yes, he did,” Vox confirmed, his voice tinged with resignation.

“TINO YOU FUCKING COWARD! GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!” Velvette ran out the door, leaving Vox alone with Angel once again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I hope I didn’t make them too out of character. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get them accurate when I wrote this fic.