#so i need to start monitoring that closely (and will be helped most by quitting smoking)

[lurkiestvoid]

I couldn't sleep but I have Shit To Do Today that I can't risk missing so I am mainlining caffeine. it's 10:30am and my chest is full of hummingbirds. This is maybe fine

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 1

Summary: You were supposed to be living a normal life. Perfect boyfriend, just graduated college, and ready to start your new life. Until you met him. Brooding and imposing unless his daughter is around. You knew nothing about babies, but he knew less. Tension builds, feelings flare up, but are they just because he looks extremely sexy when he's soft? Could it be because you are falling for this princess of a baby girl before him? Is it because when he's in town you're too close? The money is good, and yet his attention is better.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd scowls as he watches the scene in front of him. The crease between his brows is extra deep. He hates working in the field almost as much as he hates watching it. Idiots. He was surrounded by incompetent idiots.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His fist slams on the table. How many shots have to be fired before they secure their target. “He’s right fucking there! Shoot his ass!”

“Lloyd,” a timid man says behind him, and Lloyd’s eyes never leave the monitors. “Mr. Hansen?”

“I don’t want to do this myself, but I fucking will! Levinson, get ready to go!” More rounds of bullets, and still the target was missed. “What the fuck is this?”

“Lloyd!”

His body goes rigid as he turns to look at the small man who is shivering. Eyes downcast to the floor so he doesn’t look at the towering man. “Why the hell are you addressing me?”

“We have a problem.”

“No, shit, Sherlock. I have two teams of mercenaries after one target, and he’s not been shot. What the fuck else could be wrong?” He leans over a bit looking at the man. “Well?”

“Who the hell brought a baby?” Ari asks, staring down at a pitiful little carrier. An envelope beside the small bundle, and her bright green eyes stare up at the large man. “This isn’t bring your daughter to work day,” her face cracks a moment as she searches his face. Lips puckering out before a scream radiates through the makeshift office. “Make it stop!”

“Where the fuck did a baby come from?” Lloyd snaps a finger at another man to take over the original issue at hand. He just needs the target killed, and he can go home for a bit. “What is this?”

Ari’s hands slap on the side of his head covering his ears, but his foot tilts the carrier to rock it a bit, but still she wails. Seeing how no one attempts to help out, or get the baby to stop, Lloyd assumes this is something he’s going to have to take care of. What else was new? Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he leans down to grab up the letter. Crumpling it up before looking down at the baby. “Mother fucker.”

Your fingers run over the empty shelves in your dorm room. Graduation has finally happened, and now it is time to leave your mark on the world. Your father didn’t bother to show up for your graduation because why would he? He never showed up personally in your life. Not really. He always made sure that everything was paid for though. It could be worse, right?

You try not to complain about your father, or your family. You had more than most and should be grateful. But then some people had attention. Sighing, you grab up your bag, and look towards the door.

“Chase,” whispering, you walk over to him, and lay your head on his chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t know why you feel so attached to this dorm room, honey.”

“Because it was my home,” you’re sure he didn’t fully understand, which was okay, you never bothered to explain. You kept your family dynamics quiet. He never asked why you were so quick to visit with his family for the holiday, just enjoyed you being there.

His warm arms wrap around you, and he holds you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t quite comfort, but he is sweet. He means well, and did what he could for the information that you provided to him. But this dorm room was the closet you had to a home. You had good memories here. Friends that were more like family, and now it’s gone.

You groan when the stupid sound of your absent father’s ringtone sounds off. Maybe he is actually calling to congratulate you for wasting his money on a degree that he deemed pointless. He. It probably wouldn’t matter what you did, it’d never be good enough for him.

“You gonna get that?”

“Do I have to?” You complain looking up at Chase. His mouth lifts to the side, and he nods his head. He is right. You should talk to him and quit hiding. You didn’t know what he was going to say or do. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“So the kid is yours?” Ari looks down at the car seat, watching the little baby cry, no one attempting to soothe or comfort her. Lloyd squats down and rubs his thumb over her cheek, and she struggles to breathe from her tears. “Are you going to hold it?”

“Can you stop referring to my daughter like she’s a thing?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ari answers sarcastically. “Then pick her up. What is her name?”

“Clara told me to name her. She didn’t bother naming her. What…what do I do?” He looks up at his friend, showing the tiniest bit of emotion. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

“Start by holding her.”

“You hold her,” Lloyd is a lot of things but nurturing is far from one of them. He was a man that didn’t make mistakes, but clearly, he messed up somewhere. Of all the women he had been with only one was he stupid enough to knock up. But the way Lloyd is staring at her would suggest he almost wanted a baby.

“This is so fuck…this is so stupid. Clean up your mouth. She isn’t old enough to talk yet, but she will be,” Ari gets down to his knees, starting to remove the straps over her body. “She’s a pitiful little thing. Shh, girlie, you’re scaring your daddy before he’s properly got to look at you. There ya go,” he coos, holding the tiny girl up against his chest. Her cries soften a bit. He wonders when the last time she felt loved, because her body moves around feeling more of him.

“What’s wrong with her?” Both Ari and Lloyd’s noes turn up in disgust as they smell her. “She’s not been bathed?”

“That’s poop, Lloyd. We can’t have a baby here,” that is something Ari is certain of. Not only was this not a place for babies, he didn’t want to have to smell the baby smells.

“I didn’t ask for the baby. She was dropped on the mother fucking steps. Clara. I’ll kill that dumb trollop. Never trust desperate women. She doesn’t want money. She just didn’t want the baby. And I need her to have a name, so I’m not just calling her the baby. Ari, name her.”

“I’m not naming your spawn. She’s born of you, you name her. And my god, you gotta change this diaper, and figure out what you’re going to do in order for us to not have to deal with a baby like this. What the hell do you want?”

Lloyd turns to look at one of the analysts standing in the doorway. His thick rimmed glasses, and quiet demeanor made him one of Lloyd’s favorites. He was trustworthy, and smart. Quick. One of the few people Lloyd didn’t want to strangle. “Roman, what do you need? We’re dealing with someone.”

“You need an au pair.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It…it’s someone that will live in your home, and care for the child. They could teach them another language, and…”

“Sounds like a wife. Do I get to fuck them? Does she talk back to me?” Roman shakes his head no, wanting to say more, but doesn’t want to risk his job. He had the perfect person to help Lloyd with his little problem. “Where does one find an au pair?”

“I know someone that just recently graduated, and she speaks French. She has a degree in art history, and…”

“I need her at my house immediately,” Roman acts as if he’s about to say something until Lloyd cocks up a brow, “I will pay her handsomely.”

“You’re keeping the baby?” Ari’s answer comes in the form of Lloyd reaching towards the baby. Turning up his nose at the stench, but he holds her gently. Tenderly. He gives her a quick peck on her head. “He’s keeping the baby. Roman, call whoever. Sounds like the amount of money is not an issue.”

Staring up at the posh apartment buildings, and squeezing Chase’s hand, you wonder how you even got here. Your father didn’t do anything but give you money. You didn’t even know him. Didn’t know what he even did to make the money. And now you are taking orders from him. Allowed him to make you feel like shit for your education.

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Chase says calmly. Slipping his hand out of yours, he turns to look directly at you. “You’re a grown woman, you don’t have to listen to what daddy says.”

“Don’t call him that,” your father didn’t earn that name. That’s exactly what you called him, father. “I mean look at it, there could be worse places to live.”

“Yeah, and you’re caring for a child that isn’t yours. And where’s her parents? How often will you have this child?”

“I’m going to live with them.”

“That’s another thing, I don’t exactly like the idea that you live with them. Who are them?”

“It’s a need to know basis,” you mumble. Finally finding your footing you take a step forward. It was now or never and it seemed like it was going to be now. What did you actually have to lose? This was a guaranteed job. It’s not like you had to stay. The pay was great. And how hard could one baby be?

You were going into this job with a house, great pay, and it seemed somewhat cushy. “You’re just going to be giving another child a life without their parents.”

“And just think where I would have been without my nanny,” you spit out, feeling a bit more protective of a child that you haven't met. It wasn’t her fault anymore than it was yours. Children should be loved and taken care of, and that’s what you are going to do.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. You don’t have to go with me if you don’t approve,” sighing, Chase follows you as you walk into the building. Following the exact instructions you were given from your father. You didn’t know what you were walking into. It was just a job after all.

Neither you or Chase say another thing. He definitely could feel your irritation at the need to insert what he thought he knew about your life. Your life wasn’t horrible. You just didn’t have your parents. Especially not your father. He had a business. And whatever he did afforded you a charmed life.

Seems like this child was getting the same treatment. And if you could give her the life that your amazing nanny gave you, then you feel like you’re giving it back. You didn’t see yourself as a teacher, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And it was just one small baby. Eventually she would be going to school, and that’s if you even stayed that long.

Attention was everything when it came to children. If you said no, and this was apparently an emergency, what would happen to this child? Every child deserves a good life.

You don’t fully bother knocking on the door. Just punch in the code to the apartment, and Chase tugs at your arm. He isn’t as comfortable with this as you are. Your father gave you the code, Lloyd didn’t want you to knock, he wants you to make yourself comfortable. Your eyes go wide as you look around.

You could see the house at one point was pristine, but now it’s chaotic. Empty boxes are everywhere, but all of them seem to be items for the child. Your father told you she was a baby, but not how new she was. Tiptoeing deeper into the apartment, Chase pulls you back into him.

“Announce yourself. This is weird.”

“Mr. Hansen?” The sweetest little baby gurgle comes from the next room, and you look up at Chase. “That’s a real baby, handsome. Can I go meet my employer now?”

“I’m right here. Scream if you need me.”

“Mr. Hansen?” You ask again, looking into the first room. It is an even bigger disaster. Stuff was everywhere. The room has so much potential, but why does everything seem new? “Mr. Hansen, do you need help?”

He needs a lot of help. Could barely tend to his own child. His movements seem very rigid and unsure of himself. “Yeah, I think she peed. She has on the diapers that change color when wet, but…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I babysat a few times,” it’s a bit of a stretch. They weren’t babies. But you’ve seen some movies. Read some things, “Let me see. Hey there, cutie,” she looks like she could break hearts. She is angelic. Chubby little legs, and the biggest dimples in her cheeks. Completely toothless with the prettiest bright green eyes and long lashes. “I think you’ve overwhelmed your daddy. Did you recently just get custody?”

There had to be a reason for this mess. But he went and spent a ton of money trying to give his daughter everything she needed and could ever want. “I just recently found out about her,” that took an unexpected turn. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have the time to really devote to her, but I don’t want her to do without, and…I’m in over my head.”

So he was a bit like your father. But he seems to currently be more hands on than your father was. It was cute, in a completely not weird way at all. Lloyd was older than you. A full grown man while you had only just graduated college. “I’m not an interior designer, but I know some. The apartment is a mess, I’m aware. Lyla needs so much, and this place was just here. I never took the time to do anything. So me and my partner ordered everything we could think of. I don’t think she needs everything we got, but she could. She has her bed, and her diapers, and there’s a box of formula and food in the kitchen. Her food should be there, right? I don’t think she plays with toys yet, but there’s some somewhere.”

“Is this a Dior stroller?”

“I was told it was a pram,” you stare at him, trying not to giggle. The fact that it was Dior was the more silly part. “I can’t do what I do and have her there it’s dangerous.”

“What do you do?”

“Don’t ask,” the look he gives you makes you take a step back, gawking up at him when you realize his size. He is tall. Arms that are thick and hard as steel. His shoulders are wider than your entire body, “Lyla will be provided for, and because of that so will you. Whatever you need. I’ll leave a card for you. I won’t be able to personally get all your…well, all your needs. So this seems like the best option.”

“My needs? Like food?”

“Uh, I know that you women have things you need,” he’s an idiot. “I’ll give you a check, so this looks legit, but I can provide all your special woman needs,” huge idiot.

“Yeah, I can get my ‘womanly needs’ with my paycheck. Do…how often are you going to be here if I’m living here?”

He puffs out a bit of air, and he fully gives you attention. His daughter now has a changed diaper, and he cradles her sweetly. Some stupid expensive silver teething toy in her mouth, and his eyes roam over your entire body. He’s a bit too handsome to be a father, and one that just so happened to be your employer. His eyes are too blue, and his arms look too thick, and you gulp, clenching your thighs together. What the fuck was this witchcraft?

“Every night if possible. I typically work remotely, but sometimes I do have to go out of the country, and that leads to a few days to a week without me coming home to you and Lyla,” is he smirking? You shouldn’t feel so small and taken aback, but your stomach erupts with annoying butterflies with how hard he’s staring at you.

“Would you like to see your room? It’s next to the baby’s. My bedroom is in the front of the apartment, just off the living room. So I’ll be the first to the door. Absolutely no one in this apartment. I don’t trust people. Especially not around my child, and I guess now you come into my protection. If you need to know the apartment is in another name. I have a tendency to create a lot of enemies, and I try to keep things here as safe as possible.”

Lloyd freezes when he hears Chase sneeze. Handing you the baby, he covers you and her with his body in such a quick motion it takes your breath away. Your loss of breathing had nothing to do with his weight digging into your skin, and you surely don’t let out an odd sound that has him giving you a quick wink.

“That would be my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Roman didn’t say anything about a boyfriend.”

“Roman doesn’t even know when my birthday is. Do you have a problem with Chase being here?”

“What kind of name is Chase?” With your free hand, you shove him off you. You didn’t need him that close to you. “Honestly, what kind of name is that? And I said nobody visits.”

“You just told me that. He traveled here with me because he didn’t trust that I was coming to some apartment with some weird man that lured me here under false pretense just so he could murder me.”

“I don’t lure women here. This is a safe space for my daughter. I need you to make him leave,” Lloyd didn’t need to lure women. When he wanted a woman he could have one. And wanting a woman led to him becoming a father.

“But I don’t want to be here alone with a baby that can’t talk,” his eyes narrow at you. It is like you and Lloyd are playing a tit for tat game. Going back and forth of why Chase shouldn’t be here, and why you need him here. “He has a job. He works at an IT firm. Would you really want me here alone and by myself? What if someone comes here to attack me? Then Lyla is left all alone.”

“I’ve taken precautions that this would never happen. When you’re on the clock, Lyla is your only priority,” that made you feel slightly uneasy. You had to make a note to check the neighbors. Getting a feeling that someone was tasked with watching and listening to you and Lyla.

“When am I off the clock?”

“When I am here. Unless,” he gives you that eat shit grin again, shaking his head. Is he actually flirting with you, “I shouldn’t say that, sunshine. So what should Lyla call you? Nanny seems a bit too old and mature for someone sweet like you.”

“Why not my name?” He contemplates that for a moment, looking down at his little baby who stares up at you. If babies could talk, you wonder what she is thinking of.

“Dolly.”

“What?”

“I want her to call you, Dolly. Her Dolly. Ooh, yes, I like that. Let’s see what I should do about this boyfriend,” spinning on his heels Lloyd walks down the hallway, stopping the moment he sees Chase. Your boyfriend stands up immediately, holding out his hand for Lloyd to shake.

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry?” Chase looks towards you holding the baby, and takes a quick gulp. Lloyd’s eyes go between the two of you before sidestepping in front of you. His wide body blocking Chase from looking in your direction. “What is this?”

“Chase, let's get something straight, when I’m not here, Dolly is on the clock.”

“Her name isn’t Dolly.”

“When I’m here, I’ll allow her to come and go as she pleases, but just like Miss Dolly, I need to get a background check on you. I don’t want just anybody to have access to my daughter, and her au pair. And absolutely under no circumstance will you be sleeping under my roof. This is my home, and my daughter’s, and I don’t need stupid boys coming in here and tainting that,” he turns to look at you. Giving you no time at all to process exactly what he is saying. He couldn’t be serious.

“Remember, I own your father. I also own you. I’m offering you money that you can’t refuse because he just cut you off, and you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I’m providing that for you. And I don’t want limp dicks in my home. Have I made myself clear?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want, Dolly. I’m Lloyd fucking Hansen. If I want to cut every single finger off your father’s hands, I will. You can either have me as your employer or your enemy. And if you walk out that door with that boy, you will be my enemy. I’m not saying you can’t date him, I’m saying I don’t want him in my house or around my daughter. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” his head tilts forward, and his piercing blue eyes give you a look. A look you can’t exactly explain, but it makes you feel things. Makes you ready to do whatever it is he told you to do. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Get rid of the boyfriend.”

“But you’re here.”

“And so are you. There’s no need for him to linger around, while you move in. This is just an introduction, sweetheart. I need to walk you through all the boring stuff about your job. I’ll pay you extra if you get Lyla’s bedroom situated. This place is a complete disaster, and I can’t stand it. Get rid of him,” reaching towards Lyla, he walks back down the hallway to her room, and you give Chase an awkward smile.

“Come on, he can find someone else to be the au pair.”

“I need to see this through, Chase,” he tries interrupting you. Like he usually does, but you shake your head. You did need this job. None of the other places you applied at have called you back. “I need this job. It won’t be forever. And once I get settled in, and have my first day off, I’ll spend it with you.”

“You’re really going to let him talk to you like you’re his property?”

“No, I’m not. But I see myself in that little baby, and she needs me. He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Do you?” Nope. You had no idea about babies. You didn’t even have siblings. But your bags that were in Chase’s cars had a few books with some ideas on what to do. You’d figure it out along the way. Plus, you had this odd desire to understand your dad’s job, and also what exactly Lloyd did. How did a man that instilled so much fear in you also have a soft spot for his daughter?

“You’ll call if you want to leave? No questions asked, I’ll come and get you?”

“No questions asked,” you promise, kissing his lips softly. His hands cup your ass, and Lloyd glares at him down the hallway. How did Roman allow you to grow up and be disrespected in a stranger’s home? You allowed him to kiss down your neck, and neither of you even knew he was watching.

Lloyd would never let Lyla be treated like that. He wished he could make her not get any bigger. He liked the idea of having a woman in his home. Even if it wasn’t the way that a traditional family had it, who knew what the future held. You wanted to please him. Even told Chase it was time for him to leave. He still had it.

Chase pulls off your neck, and notices Lloyd watching you. His hands slip into your back pockets, and he gives your ass a bit of a squeeze, “Who’s girl are you?”

“I’m yours, Chase. Now go on, I’ll call you later,” his eyes flick over to Lloyd, who ventures into Lyla’s room. Going to lay her down for her nap as he tries to think of ways to get rid of Chase. He is an asshole. A cocky one at that. Unfortunately he reminded Lloyd of himself. And there is only enough room in your life for one asshole.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @honeyhoneylovelylove

[wsoc-gay]

World Cup Results II

Part 1

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: The beginning of Ona's Pregnancy

A/N: At least one more part to this of the pregnancy, might continue it after the baby too. But if anyone has a request please feel free to put it in my asks! I work much better and faster with ideas. I'm open to writing anything, smut, fluff, angst, kid fics, just let me know what you want to read!

You and Ona couldn’t be more excited on the drive home from the clinic. Neither of you could wipe the smiles off your faces as your hands were held together and rested in your girlfriend’s lap. The entire ride home was full of loving sentiments exchanged to one another and plenty of blushes being spread across faces. 

Arriving home began your new train in following the advice from the doctor as closely as possible as well as going a bit overboard. Your girlfriend was starting to get annoyed with you, but even she would admit it was sweet how caring you were. Ona never opened her car door, never lifted anything too heavy, didn’t carry her bags to training, and you hardly let her do household chores. Every night for dinner you cooked a meal full of all the proper nutrients the doctors had advised eating and made sure to buy Ona only the best prenatal vitamins.

You both had agreed to not tell your teammates until you reached the 15-week mark, until then Ona didn’t have to alter her trainings and could still play in games. You had let the coaching staff and medical staff know as soon as you found out so they could monitor the Spaniard closer, but as of now you wanted to keep it on a need-to-know basis.  

It was around the 8-week mark, right after the first ultrasound, that some of your teammates began to catch on that something was happening. Any slight bump or tackle Ona took during training led to you sprinting to be by her side checking up on her. The brunette found it sweet but needed you to let up a little bit before they had to tell your team sooner than expected. 

Your worries weren’t without their reason, the chance of miscarriage was drastically higher through IVF and until Ona was outside her first trimester you had every right to worry. The days leading up to your 8-week scan were some of the most stressful days in your recent memory. You and Ona both were worried sick about having the scan show that you had lost your baby.

Ona was more stressed than you were due to her late-night research of her symptoms which often times resulted in her reading many horror stories of parents going to the first ultrasound and finding no heartbeat. The internet on top of her raging hormones led to many tearful nights where you tried to alleviate her fears but knew that the only thing to help the brunette’s anxiety would be seeing your baby. 

Thankfully one day after training the two of you were able to go to the clinic for the scan and see your baby for the first time. Tears immediately came to both of your eyes as the doctor told you your baby was not only alive, but healthy and thriving inside your girlfriend. You weren’t one to cry, but Ona made a comment that she thinks you’ll be a mess at every ultrasound, and you couldn’t help, but agree. There was something about seeing your baby on that screen that made everything seem more real. Therefore, the attentiveness only got worse.

Your English teammates were the first to confront you about your recent behavior. The pair was sat alone at a table during lunch when Lucy pulled you into a seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

You gave the older woman a confused look, “What the hell do you mean?”

Kiera slapped Lucy’s arm and muttered something you couldn’t quite make out under her breath. She looked over to you, “What Lucy meant to say,” She sent the brunette defender a glare, “Is that you’ve been acting a bit different during training recently.”

You truly hadn’t caught onto what they were referring to yet and raised an eyebrow at the pair, “Is this your guy’s subtle way of telling me I’ve been playing badly?”

Lucy slapped the back of your head and groaned, “No you idiot,” You slapped her right back, “Every time someone so much as touches Ona you act like she got shot.” Lucy slapped you again, “And you’re always watching her like a hawk,” You slapped her back.

Kiera grabbed her arm before she could retaliate, “Would you two stop acting like children already.”

This wasn’t surprising behavior for you and the outside back, ever since you arrived at Barcelona the two of you grew much closer. Lucy helped you a lot to settle into the team and lifestyle of Spain, so overtime you grew a lot closer. Hence, why she was one of the first ones to notice a change in your behavior.

You suddenly realized what they were referring too and tried to hide it best you could, “I’m not acting any different, I always worry about her.”

Lucy gave you a dumbfounded look, “Yeah, but this is even pushing it for you,” She began to dramatically mimic you, “Oh my love, Ona, someone leaned on you during our full contact sport, and job, are you sure you’re going to survive this,” She leaned back with an arm laid against her forehead dramatically. 

You started slapping the older brunette again, “Oh shut up, I am not acting like that.”

Kiera sighed and pushed the two of you apart, “Would you two seriously stop it,” she looked at Lucy, “Luce stop being dramatic,” and then turned to face you, “You’re not acting like whatever the hell that display was, but you are acting extra protective over her.”

You ultimately made up some excuse about Ona having reinflamed her ankle and that you wanted to make sure she didn’t seriously injure it again. The pair of English women didn’t seem to believe your excuse, but let you go on your way.

On the ride home you had told you told Ona about the confrontation with Lucy and Kiera which she followed up by agreeing that you needed to tone down the protectiveness and worrying. She had begun to notice it too and believed it was sweet but agreed that it was about to get out of hand and was only a matter of time before more of your teammates began to catch on. 

---

It was a couple weeks later, around the 12-week mark, when Ona was quieter than usual after training. The car ride home was nearly silent, but you didn’t mention it and assumed she was just tired. As the pregnancy progressed Ona was starting to become increasingly more tired throughout the day, so you assumed that alongside the hard training today was the cause for her quietness. 

It wasn’t until a little later when you walked into the living room and found the Spaniard sitting on the couch with her head in her hands that you finally asked, “Is something wrong babe? Are you not feeling well?”

Her head remained in her hands as she softly muttered out, “I need to tell you something.”

You quickly sat down next to her with you hand on her thigh and concern lacing your voice, “Is it the baby? Do we need to call the doctor?”

She quickly sat back and leaned against the couch quickly alleviating your worries, “No, no the baby is fine. It’s just, es posible que accidentalmente le haya contado a Aitana sobre el bebé.” She had rushed out the last sentence in Spanish making it difficult for you to understand.

“Slower, por favor, you know my Spanish isn’t good when you talk fast.”

“I accidentally told Aitana about the baby today,” Feeling increasingly guilty she began to ramble, “I know we didn’t want to tell people about the baby this early, but she cornered me and you know I’m bad at keeping things to myself when someone asks and it just slipped out. I am so sorry mi amor.”

You chuckled at her rambling but let out a sigh of relief knowing this was the cause to Ona’s mood shift and not something more serious. Ona and Aitana had always been close, growing up playing for the academy together and since Ona returned to Barca they became even closer, so part of you was more surprised it took this long for her to find out. The outside back also was known for being bad at keeping secrets. Anytime someone would ask her about something she wasn’t supposed to talk about she would begin rambling making it obvious that she was hiding something and would usually end up saying it anyways.

You dropped back to lean against the couch and moved your hand from her knee onto her, hardly noticeable, bump, “Oh thank god, you had me worried, love.”

Ona covered your hand with hers, “There is nothing to worry about, I’m sorry she found out.”

The outside back when onto explain that Aitana had cornered her in the locker room after training when the rest of the team had already filed out. Instead of the usual comments which were about how protective you had become, Aitana had brought up how happy the two of you had seemed and that you were touchier than usual. She also had picked up on Ona subtly rubbing her stomach and your hand grazing over it after you would hug. She had straight up asked Ona if she was pregnant, and there was no escaping it from there, your girlfriend didn’t know how to lie.

“And you know I can’t lie, amor, she caught me so off guard and I must’ve taken too long to try and come up with an excuse, but she just pulled me into a hug saying how happy she was for us.”

You laughed again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull the smaller girl into your side, “I’m more surprised you lasted this long without everyone finding out.”

Ona rubbed a hand over her stomach instinctively, “As long as everyone keeps bringing it up to you instead of me, we should be okay, there’s only three weeks until I can’t play in matches anymore and then we’ll have to tell them.”

You looked down to her face as you smoke softly, “We can tell the team now if you want, you’re out of the first trimester, we just saw the baby, and everything is healthy, there’s no big reason to keep it from them anymore.”

“No, no, I like just keeping it to ourselves. Our own little bubble outside of football for now,” she leaned up to connect your lips softly and full of love.

---

Aitana did much better of a job keeping the secret to herself than you originally expected. The midfielder took her job as being the best friend and only teammate who knew very seriously. Anytime your teammates would begin on the topic when she was around, she would quickly shush their comments and would back any lie you made up to cover your secret. 

You and Ona were grateful for her efforts, but in a way, it only increased your other teammates suspicions. You also were now partially convinced much of the team actually already knew what was going on. As the last two weeks have gone by Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia had completely stopped asking anything about the topic. Originally Mapi had been one of the most vocal players about finding out what was going on, but now had completely stopped in her efforts. 

The truth was Ingrid, being the observant and caring teammate and friend that she was, had picked up on the same signals Aitana had. She obviously told Mapi about her suspicions who then confided in Alexia about them. Therefore, they came up with a plan to get the two of you to admit it to them. 

It was after the last game of the season before the Christmas break that Alexia decided the team would go to a club to celebrate before everyone left to their respective homes. You and Ona were going to see your family in England for the break, so you tried to get the two of you out of going by saying that you had to finish packing before your flight. Alexia wasn’t taking this as an answer and needed the both of you there to try and get an admittance from you, therefore, said it was required team bonding and you had to be there. The original plan was for Alexia and Mapi to call Ona out on not drinking and essentially for her to expose the pregnancy, but this plan was quickly stopped when the two of you entered the bar, keys in Ona’s hands, clearly having drove the two of you there. Anytime she was asked about a drink it was easy for her to say she was driving that night, plus she didn’t have to lie so there was no worries about her slipping up.

Alexia and Mapi were still trying to come up with a new plan when, surprisingly, you were the one to let it slip.

You were sitting at a table with many of your teammates while Ona was dancing with Aitana, Patri, Claudia, and Cata when a guy walked up behind Ona and placed his hands on her hips. You were on your feet and dragging the man off her before she had the chance to pull away.

The man turned around to be face to face with the hands that had just pulled him off the girl he was obviously interested in, “What the fuck do you want?”

You stood tall with your chest puffed and harshly spoke, “I want you to get your hands off my girlfriend.”

He scoffed, “Girlfriend? Sorry bud, I don’t think she’s the girlfriend type.”

You laughed, “Sorry, bud, but I’m the one she’s woken up next to for the past 8 years so I think I might know her a bit better than you.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t see you anywhere until after I came over so looks like I’ve beat you to it.”

“Oh, fuck no,” You tried to shove past him to get to Ona, but he moved to block your path.

“Why don’t you prove it to me then?” By now a decent amount of your teammates had noticed what was going on and began to come over to help deal with the man.

This sent you over the edge, it might’ve partially been at fault to the alcohol you had that night, and you being a little more than drunk already. But with one big push to his shoulder you announced, “I think the fact that she’s pregnant with my baby proves enough,” this left him shocked and gave you enough time to walk over to Ona with your back turned to the man and place a hand on the side of her face, “Are you alright, love?” Most of your teammates were now standing around you with their jaws hanging open clearly in shock.

The man clearly wasn’t over the embarrassment yet, as he pulled your shoulder back to face him and landed a hook across your cheek, you threw one right back getting him across the nose before security was dragging him away just as Lucy was doing the same to you. You looked back to find Ona and saw Alexia standing in front of her having clearly dragged her back and away from you and the man, likely assuming the altercation may escalate and after your confirmation didn’t want the Spaniard anywhere near the potential of a fight.

After clearing some things with the security guards, they let you stay and Lucy was dragging you over to the table many of your teammates had gone to sit at, the rest following close behind you. 

Ona slid into the booth next to you with a bag of ice in her hand, and reaching up with her free hand to grab your chin and turn your head to assess the damage, “Are you okay? You know I hate it when you do that.”

You were waving your arm dramatically, clearly still affected by the alcohol in your system, “He wanted to take you home I was protecting you both.”

She had a soft smile and pressed the bag of ice to your cheek, which you took over holding against your face, “I know you were, but you could’ve gotten hurt a lot worse.”

“I don’t care,” You leaned closer to whisper in her ear, clearly having forgotten you had already spilled your secret, “You’re carrying precious cargo, Baby Mami.”

Ona chuckled and patted your thigh, “No point in whispering now, amor, you already announced it.”

You turned to see the rest of your team giving you both dumbfounded and shocked looks, but Alexia, Aitana, Mapi, and Ingrid just smirking to themselves.

Alexia was the first to speak up from across the table, “So, you two are having a baby?”

You moved your free hand to rest on your girlfriend’s stomach and smiled as Ona replied, “Yep, baby y/l/n-Batlle is due in May. We were going to tell you all after the break, but tonight was my last match for the season, I’m about to be fifteen weeks, so no more matches.”

You were met with a lot of congratulations from your teammates when Lucy finally connected the dots and pointed at you, “So this is why you’ve been so unbearably protective over her recently.”

You defended yourself, “She’s carrying precious cargo, that’s the future best player in the world in there,” You patted her small bump, and the brunette covered your hand with hers.

This caused a smile to breakout on Ona’s face and laughs spread around the table. Ona had decided you had enough to drink, and she was exhausted having played 70 minutes today, so announced that you would be heading home. It took a few minutes before you were finally out the door, having to go through and hug every one of your teammates and being told congratulations by each one of them. 

The next day the two of you flew to England for the first half of break, you would spend Christmas with your family before coming back to Spain to spend the rest with Ona’s family who you saw more often. 

Since the secret was already out to your teammates and your families had already known for weeks while home in England you and Ona were able to tell a few of your England and former Arsenal teammates you were closest with. 

While in London and met up with Leah, Lia, Lotte, Alessia, Beth, and Viv for lunch to share the news with them. Leah was especially moved when you told her, having been much like a big sister to you during your time at Arsenal. She couldn’t get past how grown up you were and that now were having a baby. Alessia did a lot of claiming that this all happened because of her setting you two up. While you’ll go to your grave denying her you can’t help but thank her slightly.

---

Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed! Again, please leave any requests or prompts in my asks!

[hannieehaee]

hello!! can i please a kwan drabble with dom seungkwan where he sees u really turned on and squirmy watching him at practice bc he dances with a very serious/mean expression and ur imagining how mean he can be in bed? so he shows u after?

18+ / mdi

content: softdom!seungkwan, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1659

a/n: i sinned again and wrote softdom!kwan instead of dom!kwan sorryyyy i realized im just not good at writing full on dom lol i hope u still enjoy<3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungkwan wasn't always as soft and adorable as people had a tendency to claim.

he was an idol after all, which always came with an insane level of duality. while at some moments he could make your heart melt with his cute demeanor, there were other times in which his behavior on stage could not help but leave you wanting more.

as his girlfriend, you had been made privy of all sides of seungkwan. however, he was usually extra sweet towards you. even though your dynamic between each other had vast variety, most of the time seungkwan treated you like royalty, tending to you more often than not.

due to this, you'd always kind of had a preconceived notion of your boyfriend. you saw him like a softie. a man who lives to coo at you and take care of you in ways that were often unnecessary but always appreciated (i mean no one needed to be literally spoon fed, yet seungkwan would sometimes insist on it).

now, however, you were seeing quite a different image of your boyfriend.

you had seen seungkwan perform plenty of times. had attended many of his concerts overseas, even. but you had never truly gotten such a close glimpse of this seungkwan before. it was as if his on-stage persona had blended in with the sweet seungkwan you were so used to.

you were currently in the hybe practice room along with all thirteen members and a few close staff. it had only been about an hour since the boys had started practicing, but their bodies were already drenched in sweat and their minds consumed by the task at hand.

as per usual, there were a few members who would get a little extra serious whenever it came to rehearsing. while some would goof off a bit, others would even take on an entire different personality as the performance consumed them. you'd always observe the former to be chan, soonyoung, and maybe sometimes vernon. but this time your boyfriend had joined in and become completely consumed by his reflection in the mirror as he meticulously monitored even the slightest flick of his hand.

by then you were practically just a nameless spectator. your presence did not matter as you simply sat in silence, equally consumed by the sight of your boyfriend. he had a face of extreme concentration, with his eyebrows furrowed in what one could sense to be anger. accompanied by his frown was a harsh disposition you had yet to see in your boyfriend. he was becoming visibly frustrated by any slight mistake he committed, roughing up his water bottle whenever he stopped for a quick drink and adding a little extra sharpness to every one of his movements (even while he wasnt dancing).

although embarrassed by it, you were starting to feel a certain type of way at seeing your boyfriend like this.

you had heard stories of his anger coming out while rehearsing with the members. fights that had come up among them; sometimes little spats while other times dragged-out feuds. you had never witnessed any of these, but deep down you had wanted to. specially now, getting a taste of how he looked when he was feeling angry.

you tried ro remain calm, you really did. distracting him when he was so focused and in the zone would just be a disturbance to not only him but also to the members. but who could blame you? for months you'd been craving to see a different side of your boyfriend, one that was a little mean. and now you maybe would have the chance of riling him up a bit more than he already was.

which was why the next time he took a quick five-minute break from dancing to check in on you, you decided to play a bit dirty and whisper in his ear.

what you said to him, you'll never reveal. but it gave you the results you wanted as seungkwan immediately blushed and lost all bravado he previously had, making a dumb excuse to the members of why he'd need to take an extended break with you for a while.

that's how you led him into an empty changing room in the hybe hallways and cornered him, but you still had work to do. getting your boyfriend to fuck you was easy, but what you wanted was for your boyfriend to be mean to you. you wanted to bring back that angry and frustrated boy that had been unknowingly seducing you just mere moments ago.

for now the two of you just kissed. it was rough and nasty, with kwannie moaning against your lips as you manhandled him against the wall, whining when you created space between the two of you.

"kwannie ... want you to be mean to me," you breathed against his neck as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"h– huh? mean?", he sounded surprised.

"yeah, kwannie. like back during practice. looked so angry and frustrated. kept cursing under your breath, it was so hot ..."

"oh ... was i– was i being mean? i– "

"no, but i want you to be. please?"

he kept stammering at you, breath heavy from your touches.

"what is it, baby? cant give me what i want? do you think maybe then one of the guys could? how about wonwoo? he seems like he cou– "

"don't finish that sentence unless you want me to get really mean."

finally.

mustering all the strength he had seemingly been hiding, your boyfriend twisted you around, getting your hands off him and bending you over a nearby table, with your chest now pressed up against the table and your hands being held behind your back.

"want mean? i'll give you mean. just remember you asked for it."

he let go of your hands to undo his pants, and then you made the mistake of moving your arms to get into a more comfortable position.

"did i say you could move?," he swatted your hands and put them back in place, "dont make me tie you up."

you felt chills at this, causing your ass to try and push back against his front. this only got a mocking laugh out of him.

"you're not in charge here, angel. move again and i'll make sure you won't move all week."

"but kwannie ..."

"did i say you could talk? you're gonna sit there like a good girl and take whatever i give you. you asked me to be mean, so im being mean," once his length was out he harshly pulled your own pants down, leaving you in just your thin panties, "you insinuated wanting to fuck one of my members because you were just so god damn thirsty for some dick, so im fucking you. what else can a brat possibly want?"

you said nothing, simply letting out a whine and a huff of frustration.

"good girl. not talking just like i asked. now im gonna fuck you, im gonna fill you up, and you're gonna go back into the practice room and not let a single drop go to waste, okay?", he asked as he pressed his cock against your folds, having moved your panties out of the way, "want a verbal answer this time, brat."

"yes, kwannie ..."

and then came the harshest fucking of your life.

he felt no remorse nor care for your cunt, hammering into it with all the strength and frustration he had been feeling all throughout dance practice for the past few hours.

"you know, im so fucking nice to you. i, fuck, i give you everything. i take care of you," he paused to readjust himself a bit, "i make love to you every day. i bring you to see the world with me, but that's not enough? huh? need me to be mean to you?"

"k– kwannie!", he kept rutting his hips against yours with the most force you'd ever felt for him, making the filthiest sounds as his hips slammed against your ass and your juices mixed.

"should i have been mean to you all this time, baby? should i have thrown away all the gifts and flowers and used you like a toy?", you couldnt see him, but you knew he mustve had that angry look in his eye that you'd been thirsting after just moments ago.

his hand snuck under your panties, digging his finger in to play with your clit roughly and carelessly.

you knew your end was arriving embarrassingly fast, you just hoped that maybe this was affecting him as much as it did you.

"cum, fuck ... cum for me, beatiful," he sighed, starting to slouch against you. even when he was being mean he couldnt help in being nice to you.

you covered your mouth with your hand as you came, muffling your scream at the sudden increase in speed from your boyfriend's thrusts, who was just entering his high along with you.

it took the both of you a few moments to catch your breaths and calm down. you winced the moment he removed himself from you and pulled up your pants again without giving a care for the juices he had just released into you.

despite your limp extremities, you managed to turn around and face your spent boyfriend. his face was flushed and his hair was sticking to his skin. he still had that furrow in his eyebrow and his breath was heavy. it was reminiscent of the look that got you into this situation in the first place.

"was that too mean?", he chuckled shyly, now caressing your cheek with his hand.

"no, kwannie. that was perfect. thank you," you turned your face to give a sweet peck to his palm.

"so, want me to be mean from now on?"

"no, i love sweet kwannie just fine. just .... maybe every once in a while?"

he scoffed, "oh, absolutely. i think i needed that."

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

As per the poll results...

Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets. 

They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them. 

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night. 

Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it. 

He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it. 

That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all. 

CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest. 

Not tonight.

“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”

CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this. 

“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest. 

“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling. 

The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-

Oh. 

“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place. 

CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard. 

Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to. 

“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time. 

It was apparently enough. 

5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.

“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging. 

5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though. 

5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them. 

“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”

“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be. 

As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head. 

2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes. 

Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka. 

He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it. 

He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught. 

“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand. 

5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”

Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”

5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”

“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect. 

“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly. 

Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”

5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game. 

Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him. 

“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.

5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing. 

That got 5052 to look at him. 

There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head. 

“I’m not - am I in trouble?”

Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern. 

It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down. 

“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”

“Vod?”

“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that. 

5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency. 

“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?” 

He shook his head no. 

“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”

“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him. 

“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”

The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”

Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could. 

—

“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this. 

Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled. 

It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option. 

Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession. 

Fox was different. He was smarter. 

He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him. 

Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine. 

“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again. 

“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat. 

“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again. 

“Your flight time went up again.”

“I know.”

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him. 

“The fuck do you care?”

Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”

Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to. 

They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.

“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”

“I fucking know, okay?” 

That was what he was looking for. 

“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.

“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know. 

“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago. 

The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it. 

It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him. 

“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else. 

“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone. 

“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”

Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”

Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what. 

Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears. 

Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting. 

It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter. 

“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”

Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered. 

—

It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him. 

They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word. 

Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot. 

Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.

Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it. 

Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed. 

Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.

Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod. 

He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room. 

Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place. 

As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk. 

Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair. 

“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.

“Why did Prime have to name me?”

“Why didn’t I listen to him?”

“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”

So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.

When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke. 

“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.” 

Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this. 

“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob. 

“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.” 

A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough. 

“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”

Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either. 

“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop. 

“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”

Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”

Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared. 

It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it. 

Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why. 

Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out. 

Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.

Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.

“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”

“I know,” Seventeen murmured. 

“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. 

“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”

Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.

“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment. 

It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives. 

“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on. 

“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”

Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”

“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won. 

Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”

—

Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. 

Like now. 

Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle. 

Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts. 

“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other. 

Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare. 

“Kote found him first.”

Him?

“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”

Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”

Wolffe flipped him off. 

“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining. 

“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest. 

“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”

Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.

“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.

Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.

The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch. 

Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not. 

It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.

Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time. 

When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.

“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in. 

His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago. 

He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on. 

“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet. 

“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”

“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”

“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two. 

“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?

“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust. 

Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer. 

“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”

“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”

Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”

7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”

Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?

That would have to be dealt with. 

Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”

7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”

“You eaten recently?”

The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”

Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”

“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”

7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.

“Rex,” he said quietly.

Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”

Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint. 

“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”

Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look. 

Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”

Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way. 

“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex. 

“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time. 

“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”

That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…

“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”

Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”

Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”

Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”

Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”

Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”

Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.

The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.

“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”

“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”

The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself. 

“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response. 

After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”

Seventeen almost laughed. Almost. 

Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug. 

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”

—

Today was the day.

His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome. 

Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited. 

Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after. 

They all sat and waited for Ponds. 

There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why. 

They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats. 

Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence. 

An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison. 

An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.

What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face. 

“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried. 

This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.

After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.

“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.

They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn. 

Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately. 

“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”

Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”

Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”

“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him. 

“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“Oh.”

“Ori’vod-” 

Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded. 

He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would. 

“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”

Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready. 

“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso. 

“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen. 

“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply. 

Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill. 

Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”

Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”

Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks. 

As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor. 

Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad. 

His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge. 

“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”

Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room. 

“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”

“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed. 

“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”

There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it. 

He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up. 

They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured. 

Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces. 

Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother. 

Nearly nine years old and they still acted four. 

Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further. 

They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon. 

Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.

—

In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw. 

But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds. 

Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this. 

They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time. 

So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.

It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them. 

Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling. 

The one vod that never spoke was Fox. 

It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating. 

“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”

Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”

There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it. 

The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done. 

He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again. 

He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things. 

They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.

It still hurt. 

Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox. 

It had been nearly six months since they last talked. 

A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort

A-17: We should catch up

He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could. 

Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.

[oistak]

MORE poly!Vees x Reader please🥺

yess, i love themmm

‎♡‧poly!vees x assistant reader‧♡

#cw:none

you’d be owned by vox and he’d send you around in an attempt to keep val and vel on track, with vel it goes great and you bond over gossip and socials, i think vox and vel would care a lot about their stuff being done on time and would be very strict

about deadlines, whereas val would be very lax about actual work and while you try to help him try to stay on topic he would flirt and try to seduce you. his attempts would be quite annoying and frustrating at first, making it the most challenging part of your day, but soon he’d start to wear down your walls just as vel and vox had.

vox is basically the hinge for all of you. you and vel are close in a “bro” type of way, you are both into fashion and social media, have the same kind of humor, and are absolutely done with val, though vox and val were on and off for years. you have a very begrudging relationship with val, he’s like rejection, something you don’t want but need once in a while. when you do all spend time together, it’s often at the mall where val and vel act like excited children, rushing into each and every store and you and vox stay behind on your phones.

being an assistant means you do many of their daily tasks, one of which, vel insisted, was buying their coffee. vox’s order is the easiest: black coffee with ice cubes so he can drink it faster, on the off chance you’d get him an energy drink too. vel likes “anything pretty”, you usually get her a frappuccino, or an espresso fusion if she’s extra tired, from late work nights. val would get any order that takes longer than a minute to explain, take a sip, and then throw it in the trash while saying “something is wrong with this order.”

when you cuddle, it’s more often with vel than vox because of how busy that man is. if the week has been extra long you’d go into his monitor room with val or vel and one of you'd sit on his lap, stand behind him holding his shoulders, or sit at the base of his chair. at the end of the day the thing that brings you all together is vox and you'll do whatever to make him comfy.

sry this ended up being alot vox oriented :/

[semisomnosres]

First meeting with another ninja ally: Guardian of the Secret Garden

In addition to the gifts of the forest (which more often beat your ass than allow themselves to be collected), fortunately for the ninja, most of the necessary flora grows in the garden, which is monitored by the keeper. This is a very serious job, despite the barrier that hides its location (similar to what Plop-Plop had), sometimes the monsters manage to wander close to the gate.

But the most important part is to prevent these victims of puberty from accidentally destroying the contents of the garden (believe me, this part is much more difficult than it seems) with their ignorance. After a situation several centuries ago when one ninja cretin decided that making a “snow angel” in a flower bed was a “good” idea, after which he received chemical burns from them all over his body, because “unexpectedly” they turned out to be poisonous, and in addition a elegant kick in the ass out of the gate. (Goto is still angry at Nomi and Creep for choosing someone like that for their post) From now on, Goto refuses to let the ninjas in (even though they are technically his superiors) and gives everything he needs on the way out, viciously shushing him if the impudent child tries to get through the gate, he lets him in only as an exception if he sees that the current ninja is able to control himself and not cause harm to plants around him with his mere presence. It all started when one day the First looked at his list of tasks, which included: managing the city, its protection, caring for citizens, developing poisons and medicines, daily patrols and other time-consuming duties - he sighed heavily and agreed that he should not be a gardener Plop plop: wow, he admitted that he needs more help. In total, it took almost a month to bring myself to the point of mental and physical decay, I’ll even applaud this achievement, I thought he`d be stubborn for at least another 3 months. (of course he didn’t say this out loud, but EVERYTHING was clear from his face) The search for a person for this should have been quite quick, especially since recently a rather persistent candidate had loomed, who happily agreed.

Goto was born very far from Norisville, in a family of samurai, and almost all his life he was trained for this position. After coming of age 18, he took up the post, but fate was unkind because it was during this period when epidemic began to spread. Goto's hometown was ravaged and destroyed by monsters, which is why he, his sister and the rest citizens had to leave it and look for a new refuge. The long, exhausting journey was not a problem for him, but the very fact of change was difficult for him, he was too tied to his home, but he could not leave his sister, so he decided to leave with the others, feeling useless since he could not somehow prevent this situation . During their wanderings, they heard rumors about a city where lives a ninja who has healing magic, capable of turning the monster back into a human. That's where they headed, and when they almost got there, a terrible thing happened - Goto's sister fell under a curse and turned into a terrible monster and attacked her friends. Goto immediately reacted and somehow drove her into a nearby cave and prevented her from going out and killing someone. While the others rushed towards the city for help, Goto alone held it back without sparing himself, he prayed to any gods that the stories about the ninja’s abilities were true and that it was still possible to save a dear family member, and when the ninja arrived, 3 hours had passed. Although she managed to injure Goto and others, she did not eat anyone and was eventually healed and became herself again. After the rescue and kind gesture of providing them shelter in the city, Goto wanted to somehow repay such generosity, so he took on any work, from helping in the field to construction. But he continued to feel useless and that this was not enough, (and still blamed himself for the fact that he couldn`t save their city even though it was not in his power) so he was quite… persistent with his offers of help (Plop-Plop did not have time to come out this +2 meter nonsense was waiting from the house as if at the porch) And when he was offered a position of a Guardian, he rejoiced as if it was his birthday. Although he is very happy and he is grateful that he was entrusted with such an important position, he is still haunted by the fear that he will let Ninja down and not live up to all hopes and expectations, although he tries not to show it.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 31

[Prev] [Next]

“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside.  “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?”  She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position.  “Like we discussed, okay?  This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you.  It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively.  You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up.  “Your body is already so primed for delivery!  It’s like you’ve been practicing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable.  “How bad is your pain?  We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…”  As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place.  You were outrageously close.  “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out.  The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out.  “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile.  If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly.  She really did feel like a mother in her own right.  “We’ll start that epidural.  Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing.  Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face.  “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached.  Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be.  Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness.  Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space.  In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded.  His voice was laced with anxiety.  He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button.  The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were.  Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law?  Dr. Trafalgar?]  It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back.  The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning.  Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick.  He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue.  It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths.  So much for operating room etiquette.  The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon.  I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind.  He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side.  He needed to be there with you.  He was missing the birth of his first child.  A lump developed in his throat.  The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body.  A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession.  His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room.  On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was.  Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas.  Why did L&D have to be so far away?!  His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way.  He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop.  He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running.  But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk.  He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm.  She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors.  He had tunnel vision.  He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within.  He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you.  Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face.  Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body.  You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out.  You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed.  He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths.  Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.  Your face was glistening with sweat.  Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention.  I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained.  “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid.  One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more.  Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced.  “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned.  “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning.  I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well.  Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days.  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  It was almost 10 in the evening.  His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s.  He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could.  Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing.  How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural.  Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear!  Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain.  “It’s about damn time.”  Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you.  With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief.  As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called.  “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed.  It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition.  35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense.  Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb.  Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses.  “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news.  His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips.  A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again.  Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first.  The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world.  The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator.  “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest.  It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you.  As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you.  Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns.  Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  His chin was quivering as he gazed over you.  His three girls.

His girls.  He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother.  He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes.  “You’re finally a daddy.  I’m happy you’re crying.”  You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments.  The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair.  It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term.  The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head.  The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color.  They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you.  Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him.  He was biased.  And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body.  It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in.  Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge.  The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way.  They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state.  “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand.  “It’s good to see you.  Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed.  “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game.  It’s all in a day’s work for me.  I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even.  I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory.  “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle.  She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor.  “But look at you now.  A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins.  All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk.  “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly.  “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum.  Let me know if you need anything, alright?  In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her.  One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had.  It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor.  He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly.  You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again.  Not after carrying and shoving out two humans.  When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips.  All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange.  One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you.  “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned.  “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us.  For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder.  You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours.  Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.”  Law kissed your hand cheek.  “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones.  “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone.  “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk.  One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU.  At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.”  One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts.  “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest.  It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down.  “But you’ll have help.  Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response.  “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added.  “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled.  “Names.  We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered.  He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent.  “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.  And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes.  A smile he only ever showed you.  “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls.  Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead.  “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was.  In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good.  Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin.  Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place.  You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window.  Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below.  It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads.  The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body.  She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators.  It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku.  He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too.  But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not.  Im soaked over here.  

It was then that his pager beeped.  He forgot he still had it on him.  Technically, he was still on the clock.  He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker.  [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR!  How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips.  “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard.  [Patient did absolutely amazing.  He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia.  They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands.  Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs.  A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy.  “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose.  Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard.  A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you.  We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest.  It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see.  They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.  

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb.  “You guys go clean up, alright?  Treat yourselves.  Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor.  Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room.  His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek.  Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space.  Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment.  Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch.  “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

[redrobinhoodrat]

Danny looked around at the beings in front of him. He’d brought his closest allies as well as some trusted friends together for his supposed “council”. He had handpicked these few along with his friends to make sure he had the best guidance in ruling the zone. He needed help now more than ever. Making sure not to look too terrified he met each set of eyes as he glanced around what was practically his round table– no! His justice league. He kept the smirk off his face as he thought of frostbite with Superman’s red underwear getup on.

“Thanks for coming, you guys. Now I’m not going to beat around the bush. What I’m about to talk to you about is going to make you really upset, but!” Danny said nervously. He held up his hands as he gestured for Pandora to wait when her mouth opened to ask a question. ”I just need you to listen first.”

He avoided Clockwork’s gaze as he stood up from his seat. The ancient being was directly across from him so he could see the hint of worry in his expression. The ghost hadn’t been too happy when Danny had requested( i.e. ordered) him to quit monitoring his life so closely. Could you really blame him though?! Who wanted what was basically their grandfather/mentor/local time god watching every aspect of their life? Not him, no sirree. That’s what Jazz was for. It was kind of nice to be worried about though...not that he’d admit it.

He winced at the thought of Clockwork’s overprotective streak. It also made what he was about to say something of a bombshell about to be dropped. He just knew that everyone was going to overreact.

“So,” He fiddled with his hands as he tried to figure out what to say. “Y’all know how I was talking about the GIW makin’ some deals with Mom and Dad and getting better at the whole “Ghost Hunting” schtick?”

He waited to get some type of nod or confirmation from everyone in the room.

“Well, I got caught.” He blurted it out in a rush. He kept his head down as he watched everyone process what he had said, he scratched at the back of his head awkwardly as he thought about what happened. “And-uhh, what they did wasn’t so good.”

He looked up to gauge their reactions. Nocturn didn’t seem phased at all, ever calm as he always was in the zone. Beside him, Frostbite was sitting with his arms crossed, probably the most out of the loop due to how busy he’s been lately, he didn’t seem too worried but he also didn’t seem happy about the development if his tapping claws was any tell. Pandora was on Danny’s right side and most likely in the same boat. He could tell she was bothered by the prospect that he’d been captured and nobody had known though. She was probably the most overprotective outside of Clockwork. Wulf was to his left, looking at him with sad puppy-dog eyes, all too familiar with the feeling of being captured. To Wulf’s left, Dorathea was scanning him over, looking for injuries most likely. Too bad he’d hid everything with the express purpose of making the whole incident look less bad than what it actually was. No sense in exaggerating when it sounded bad no matter how you put it. Beside Dorathea, Ghostwriter’s eyes were wide as he transcribed everything about the meeting, his fingers slowing as he registered what Danny had said. He probably knew just how evil humans could be from his books. Danny made sure not to meet his eyes as Ghostwriter looked up. He didn’t want to see the worry that was easily read on the ghost’s expressive face. He figured everyone’s reactions were pretty predictable based on their knowledge of humans.

Finally, he looked over to meet Clockwork’s knowing gaze. He winced as he saw the red eyes flare briefly as Clockwork clenched his hands into fists. He watched the hands on the clock-staff start spinning rapidly and could only hope they didn’t actually do anything– ancients forbid just letting him know he was caught causes time to collapse or something.

He sighed as he prepared to explain what happened, hopefully in some way that didn’t lead to an all out war.

~

“-you know, I’m a human, or at least I was before I died and stuff. I never thought I’d be the one to have to declare war on Earth.”

“Then why even do it?” Batman growled.

He was standing towards the front of the group, though Superman had managed to edge in front of him just a little. From the way the Entity in front of them was floating regally he couldn’t get a good enough read on him to call the bluff and take the main front from Superman. Never let it be said that he hadn’t learnt to rely on his allies.

He was grateful his cowl hid his eyes as he subtly watched the rest of the league around him. Everyone was at attention, either looking at him or the stranger in the room.

The being in front of them had just appeared. Not even bothering with some type of warning before a glowing green portal had opened up in the Watchtower’s meeting room. As the main league members had gotten into battle formation a figure had stepped out, almost melting out of it as the– slime? matter?–clung to them when they exited, ducking through the circle as it closed behind them. The JL were all surprised to see the figure looked like a boy when they stood up fully. Their attire and coloring made it clear they weren’t from earth though. The snow white hair contrasted sharply against the mint-green tinted skin the figure had. Their hair seemed to be hazy, almost flaming but not quite. They had on a partial set of armor, made more for movement than all out protection. The matte black metal was inlaid with specks of silver,emulating stars in the night sky. It was layered over what looked like a futuristic hazmat suit.

Now that he’d had the thought Batman would say the whole thing was futuristic. Silver and black with white accents here and there. The shoulder pauldrons had a cloak hung from them, a pitch black thing that seemed to suck in the light around it and make the being stand out even more in sharp contrast to it. A cylindrical container hung at his side and in his hands was a bo-staff that looked just as futuristic as his suit. Neon green accents twisted around the silver staff from top to bottom. With eyes that glowed the same green as the portal the figure was impressive at first glance, then you looked a little longer–took a second look and realized they looked younger than most of the proteges. Younger than Damian and Jon even.

So forgive Batman for not taking him as seriously as he probably should have. He wasn’t outright dismissing him as a threat, he had several kids that got the best of him almost every day so he knew a thing or two about overpowered kids, but he didn’t believe the being was malicious. More on the nervous side in all honesty, maybe looking for help?

Then the kid had looked Superman in the eyes and said that unless certain demands were met his subjects would march on Earth and eradicate everything they deem to be a threat. He had then rambled on about useless information until Batman had cut him off. His attention snapped back from analyzing the encounter so far as the kid finally seemed ready to answer. Now that he looked closer he could tell the regal act was just that– an act put on to intimidate them.

“My realm is made up of beings from all over the universe, the dead and the neverborn, deities that have passed and lingered, beings that crave rest or resolution. I will not hold any one race, society, or planet in a higher regard simply because of my bias.” Danny said, keeping his voice as level as he could. He needed these heroes to listen to him, damnit! He couldn’t let his nerves get the best of him here. “I may be emperor of the Realms but I have a council that I hold in high regard. We have met and the judgment has been made. Should the governments of Earth not meet our demands, we will take action.”

Batman watched as the league seemed to swell before him, members reacting to the hidden threat but not willing to speak up. They knew better than to antagonize unknowns. He leaned around Superman who had continued to slowly creep more in front of him. The young boy seemed to be trying not to fidget as he held himself up in an obviously practiced position. Slightly elevated with his hands on his hips and head tilted up, forcing himself to meet the eyes of the adults across from him. Batman watched the kid swallow nervously and felt his resolve to hold his judgment give a little. Just as he was about to speak he saw Constantine move forward a bit. Just enough to get attention but not enough to get near the boy. He lowered his calculation of this getting resolved peacefully from the high seventies down to the low fifties. He tried not to sigh, of all the days for Constantine to have been in the meeting, why today?

“Realms? When you mean realms are we talking like, a different dimension or like, a different world?” He asked, his tone not leaving any doubt as to which was worse. Constantine was practically chewing his unlit cigarette as he gazed ahead, arms crossed and shoulders tense. “Cause that affects whether I need to be here or not. Also, when you said you were human, what did you mean? Did you sell your soul or something? You’re looking a little demonic there mate, and I can’t think of anything that would cause a transformation that big unless you messed with a big bad that shouldn’t have been messed with.”

Batman watched as the kid’s face scrunched up, a fairly normal response from a kid that’d been insulted but on this one’s face it certainly did look a little…demonish. Then again, people probably think his kids are demons too, especially the current Robin who has affectionately been called stabby. He tried not to shake his head as he turned his thoughts back to the boy, he needed to stop relating him back to his kids if he wanted to be objective. He could see why the JLD member was worried though, if the kid resembled something as horrifying as a baby demon.

“Well at least my soul doesn’t look like a paper mache project, dipshit.” Danny huffed. Crossing his arms as he settled himself down on the floor. The trenchcoat guy jerked like he’d slapped him, probably not expecting him to see that tattered old soul he had. Honestly he’d feel sorry for the guy in a different situation but he was tired of adults not fucking listening. People were going to get hurt if they didn’t listen. He blew out a breath to calm down, feeling the familiar burn of anxiety in his chest.

“Listen, I’ll be straight with you guys.” He said, giving up any pretense of formality. “Some type of government funded organization is capturing and experimenting on citizens of both our realms. In fact, I can pick out a couple of you guys that they’d probably love to get their hands on!” He started pacing as he looked at the group of superheroes. He felt his emotions getting the best of him as he took in the wary gazes that were settled on him. Not to mention the condescending gaze of the only normal looking human in the room. He didn’t even know that one! Isn’t the justice league all famous heroes?

“I’m sick of adults not listening to me! I’ve been trying to do this all by myself and I can’t! I just can’t!” He shouted, and grabbed his hair out of frustration as he finally stopped and faced them again. “I was one of them. They caught me and I barely got out. They’re too dangerous for me to face alone anymore and their weapons are designed to fight my kind, my people specifically. If I give them permission to fight back then the world won’t make it. Having my people fight is like lighting a fire, they’re dangerous and uncontrolled, when they start they’re not going to be stopped.” He paused to think of what releasing the denizens of the Ghost Zone on earth could accomplish.

An infinite number of ghosts of an infinite number of species with an infinite number of powers.

More numbers added to the ranks as more lives were lost.

An army that never ended.

He gulped.

“We’d win but life on Earth would be FUBARed, literally, and I don’t want that. My family still lives here, my friends. No one will have a chance.” He looked straight into the first pair of eyes he could –Batman– and hoped that the truth was plain on his face. “You guys are my only hope. Please.”

~

Notes: So I lost a lot of interest in this draft and probably won’t continue it. If anybody wants to feel free! If you want the tiny ideas that were thought up with it just shoot me a message.

[merakiui]

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

[aziraphales-library]

hello there! thank you so much for all the work you're doing, it's amazing:)

i was wondering (since i tried to search ao3 myself and found nothing), if you know about any pretty woman AUs? thank you so much and have a great day!

I do! Not a complete one unfortunately:

Pretty Boy by SerenityStargazer [E], WIP

Aziraphale Fell, real estate tycoon, finds himself in need of a companion during a business week in London. He meets Crowley in Soho and finds he enjoys the younger sex worker's company. They spend the week together and both are surprised to find themselves falling in love.

"Hey, handsome," Crowley purred, "want a date?"

"Right now," the blond man replied in a very proper, educated accent, "what I need are directions to the Ritz. Got myself turned around, I'm afraid."

"Five pounds for directions, luv," Crowley said calmly.

"Five pounds? That's ridiculous!" the man sputtered indignantly.

"Ten pounds. The price just went up."

"You can't charge me for directions!"

Crowley grinned. "I can do whatever I want, angel. I'm not lost." He stood up and turned his back, letting his arse lean against the window frame.

"Oh, very well," the man said, pulling out his wallet. Crowley opened the door and climbed in.

"For a twenty, I'll take you there personally," he offered.

Aziraphale handed the twenty over silently then tried to find first gear.

Other fics with similar premise:

The (Half) Boyfriend Experience by ZehWulf [M]

The image on the monitor remained static for another minute or so, but then the door to the connected room opened, and the pale, curly-headed figure of Crowley's client—a man who went by Fell at the club—stepped through. As always, he stopped just after closing the door behind him to collect himself, gaze trained on where Crowley's lower half was splayed wide on lewd display. There was a whole ritual of straightening cuffs and waist coat and shifting his weight that he would go through before approaching.

Crowley felt their lingering scowl soften as they watched with vague fondness as he worked himself through the motions. At first, they'd wondered if the whole process was some sort of pre-sex psych-up, or a fussy-looking-middle-aged man version of reflexive peacocking. But, Fell had been requesting them for long enough by now that they'd been able to observe the way things evolved over time: the gestures loosening up, the amount of time spent shortening.

The poor bastard was just anxious.

OR

Crowley works part time as a sex worker at a club, and one of their favorite, most baffling clients comes in looking like he's had just as bad a day as they have.

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 [E]

AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that's only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he's started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Aziraphale Fell knows he isn't deserving of romance. As much as he might like the idea, a lifetime of neglect has left him insecure and afraid to reach for what he wants. He still dreams that one day he might be brave enough to take a chance.

Hired Heart (illustrated by many artists) by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge) [E]

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency…

Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head.

A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut...

Seirbheis by Kalimyre [E]

Human AU - Crowley is a sex worker, hired by the wealthy and eccentric Ezra Fell for a long weekend. He goes in expecting it to be just another job. But Ezra is not like other clients, and Crowley is soon in over his head.

In which our beloved ineffable husbands have clear, honest communication, a whirlwind romance, and tremendous amounts of soft, tender, kinky sex.

~Mod N

[ashleymasenado]

TADC: Pomni Through the Looking Glass (and What She Found There)

@endomentendo, be glad that you have inspired me, but prepare to be spited cause that's exactly why I'm writing this. If I got most stuff wrong including the tech (look I had to improvise the looking glass okay no one really cares if it's different from yours (wow for once I don't care about getting canon right)) I'm probably just a little sorry.

Also if Pomni's name is the same in the real world and digital wonderland, then I'm glad I got this right then.

But for anyone else who's also enjoying this, please enjoy! And maybe leave a little comment on what you thought; I haven't written a full-length story, much less a one-shot in a long time, and I'm excited to be back into my natural talent of writing!

(P.S. before we move on: I might write a little thing based on Endo's little opening comic for in Wonderland…)

(Also apologies if my writing style feels old, I had just reread the original Through the Looking Glass recently lol)

——————————————————————————————————

The little white kitty robot had been malfunctioning lately. At least, that's what her sister had been saying based on her own observations. And this time, the little thing had been moving on its own, all because a simple move of its shelf had flicked a switch and now it was just about to fall off said shelf. When it was close to hitting the ground, it was just barely caught by the only worker in the store that day, Pomni Gardner.

"There you go," she smiled tiredly, petting the furry kitty's head and shelfing it again. In all her five years of working at Cable and Analog Convenience, the little robot kitty she had made in high school was sometimes her rare source of company when her sister was out of town making supply trips. That, and the other two robot kittens on display only. But the little white kitten, which she had named Snowy, was one of the more active ones due to a little floor accident she figured was the cause of her random turn-ons these days.

Pomni leaned on the counter with a sigh, looking over the blank account of the past few mundane days on the computer for the store's records. No one had come into the store in a long time, so she had mostly felt that there was no need to come in at all. But ever since her sister's insistence for her to take her place just a day before she left, Pomni hadn't really had a choice in the manner.

She leaned back in her chair and stared up thoughtfully at the ceiling, desperate to get away from her boredom. It hadn't been a very long time ago since she had somehow dreamt of a strange place, created of her own imagination yet of very real sensations somehow. The little white clown with the giant pocket watch hopping from monitor to monitor and ending up in one that hadn't worked in years… she still wasn't sure it was such a wise choice to follow it and fall into the small screen, with a new form that forced her to question her new identity: was she the same person she was that morning, or a different one entirely? Hey, English class was finally coming in handy.

Even thought it was all a dream in the end, it was a very strange one. Even stranger, somehow she had woken up with a VR headset on her head, which she suspected her sister had placed on her to try and shake her awake, yet it hadn't really helped much. But she appreciated the effort, even if she hadn't asked her about it yet. The whole thing was very curious though.

Pomni groaned, more out of exasperation than anything else. She grabbed the little white cat off the nearby shelf and flicked the switch, watching it move around the table in a cute and almost realistic manner like an actual kitten. She had been quite proud of being the sole builder of this little mechanism, even if she had to use a few parts from their own store when it was only her sister running it back in the day. But in the end, she never really noticed, so it was all fine.

"You know, Snowy," she started, leaning her head on her hand as her elbow settled on the counter. She chuckled at the cliche nickname, her bored smile growing wider as the little cat came over to her hand and gave a small robotic purr. "It was the darndest thing, that dream I had a few months ago. It only feels like yesterday I had become a very different person, or atleast, that's what my body experienced. It was more of a physical change than anything. But can it really be considered physical if it was inside of a digital world? Anyway, it still gave me a weird existential crisis."

Pomni pulled the little white robot kitten onto her lap, feeling it settle there like a regular cat as she began to stroke its head. She and her sister, the only employees at C&A Convenience, weren't allowed to bring in any pets for the sake of their customers, so it was nice to have this little girl for company, even if she wasn't the real thing. "I wonder what it would be like to have you with me, Snowy. What would a little robot cat be like in that strange digital world? Would you be able to talk and be your own person, or would you still be as you are now? Gosh, when did I start asking so many questions?"

Pomni rubbed her own head, returning to petting the little kitten afterwards. She directed her attention to the newly imported wide-screen TV, which her sister had repaired with the help of their uncle. Now it looked just like new, which she really appreciated as she smiled and admired her reflection for just a moment. The screen was so big and clear, it was just like looking through a giant mirror. It was these kind of televisions that they said had images so vivid and lifelike it was like they were jumping out of the screen or they could pull you into the video itself. Pomni had never had a chance to see what that was like, and there was sadly no video player to plug into the TV, so she was just going to imagine it best she could.

"Could you imagine if an image could actually pull you into it, Snowy?" She said with a light chuckle, putting the little robot on the counter and standing up to get her fourth cup of coffee. She sat back down and started sipping her cup, looking over at Snowy who she had shut down so it wouldn't waddle off the counter and fall again. "It'd probably be a weird experience, just like when I accidentally fell through the monitor as if it were a hole in the ground. Just imagine the whole thing—the space just warping around you, like a vacuum cleaner, slowly taking you into a different place…"

Pomni was surprised at her own bravery to describe this fascinating and yet horrifying scenario, but not as surprised as she was to see the lights around her dim and the TV slowly flickering to life. She put down her cup on the counter and carefully leaned closer to the screen, which showed just a little bit of static and that same annoying buzzing sound you'd hear when the TV wouldn't work and all you'd get was said static. But as she leaned in closer to the screen for curiosity's sake, she saw the static was like a misty veil, like a lacy white curtain or the kind of mist you'd see on your window on a cold or snowy day.

"What in the…?"

Out of instinct, she reached out her hand to the screen and almost drew her hand back at its warmth. It wasn't an unwelcoming warmth, like a boiling pot or a fever, but it was a strange warmth nonetheless. And the screen seemed to ripple where she touched it… how curious.

She tried it again, keeping her hand there for longer. Using her other hand, she wiped at the misty veil of static, and drew back with a sound gasp.

For in the place of her normal reflection, of a young human 25-year-old woman, was the same character she had become in that dream of a digital Wonderland.

With a frustrated frown, she tried to pull her hand away from the screen, which she found was soundly stuck and was even beginning to sink into it. Gosh darn it, why didn't she learn anything from the last time?! Was this about to become a new adventure that she didn't want to be dragged into? Why did she ever come close to this TV in the first place…

Her reflection seemed to mirror her distress, even though she was yet to take that form—which she would soon take if she didn't pull back. But the warm feeling of her hand going through and next her arm was almost like rapidly falling into quicksand—no way out unless someone pulled you free.

And with a silent curse falling from her lips, Pomni was sucked through the television screen, which was as clear as the looking glass, before it was as silent and blank as it was before.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, and happy easter everyone! ^^

I don't know if you remember the autistic teen!reader request with the ROR family, and I certainly haven't made another request in a while, heh. Anyways, I would like to ask for a part two where reader is comforted after overstimulation.

The reason? Too much noise, a harsh heat wave so I was sweating excessively, strong perfume and uncomfortable clothes. I was about to throw up but thank God I finished what I was doing and came back home. Yes, I am projecting once again for my request. 🥲

Thing is, reader locks themselves in their room for about an hour, and comes out seeking for Poseidon and Hades to calm down with silent company at first. I personally think that those two, especially Poseidon, would be helpful in a situation like that (of course, in the ooc context) because they are quite levelheaded and quiet, which is what I need most of the time rather than words sometimes because processing auditory information can be a pain when you are on edge.

So that would be it, just reader sitting in silence with them for some time until they are comfortable to start speaking about what happened, definitely doing any kind of physical stimming, trying to understand the situation and then resume their activities together. Think I made it a bit too long and I apologize for it, haha. Have a nice day! 🩵

-It had been a bit upsetting to see you come in after school without saying hello to any of them, opting to go straight up to your bedroom instead, closing the door behind you.

-When you closed the door, that’s when your family knew that you needed a bit of space, as you never closed your door unless you were upset or if you needed some alone time.

-They knew that, due to you not saying anything, being non-verbal, that you were overstimulated, which was confirmed shortly after, when Eve called your teacher, and found out that there was an assembly at your school that had lots of music. Pairing that with the dancing and cheering, it was easy to determine that you had been overwhelmed.

-It was never the same, when you got overstimulated, with how you were going to react. One time you were better in about ten minutes, other times you had mentally shut down for half a day, another time you threw up, but they were going to be careful on monitoring you, just to make sure you would be okay.

-It was a little over an hour later when you came out, you were quiet, still not talking when you peeked into the living room. They knew not to stare at you, opting for small glances instead.

-Eve approached you with a warm smile, wanting to know if you wanted anything to eat, but you shook your head, not meeting her eyes as you looked around the room.

-You saw Poseidon and you immediately went over to him, lifting your arms up and he reached down, slowly, to not scare you, and pulled you up to sit beside him on the couch, letting you lean against him, but not touching you otherwise.

-Poseidon and Hades were your go to people when you got overstimulated, Hades because he had years of practice, being around for so long, but Poseidon was so patient with you, he would basically let you do or talk about anything, and that was comforting for you.

-Many were worried, not wanting you to get sick, but seeing you holding onto Poseidon’s free hand, as he was reading a book in his other, was a good sign, as normally when you were like this you didn’t want to touch anyone or let anyone touch you.

-Just sitting there, listening to the various conversations, looking at the different family members, a few who saw you looking giving you small smiles, you slowly calmed down even more, slowly feeling better.

-You gave Poseidon’s hand a small squeeze, making him look down at you, but you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Eve, “Snack?”

-She immediately smiled, offering you her own hand, “What would you like today? Or should we explore our options?” You took her hand, sliding off the couch, looking back at Poseidon who gave you a ghost of a smile before heading to the kitchen where you found Hercules and Loki, eating their own snacks.

-Your family knew that you would be okay, it just takes time and patience, something they’re always willing to give to you.

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader

Part 13: Fractured Memories

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying these chapters! Enjoyyy!💜🩵💛

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

5.4k words

Logan's Pov 

It had been a week since Violet had fallen into this deep sleep, and every day felt like an eternity. Laura and I were doing our best to adjust to this new environment—the mansion, the people, the memories it stirred. It was strange being here, with so many familiar faces from another life, but not quite the same.

Laura had started to settle in, finding a bit of a routine among the other kids. She was tough, adapting quickly, but I could see the strain of worrying about Violet weighing on her. We both tried to keep busy, but every time I saw her glance toward the medical wing, I knew her thoughts mirrored mine.

Wade and Vanessa had been a constant presence, popping in every day to check on Violet. Wade would usually bring some ridiculous item—a rubber chicken, a glitter bomb, once even a miniature disco ball—hoping to coax a reaction out of her. It was his way of showing he cared, in that weird, over-the-top manner of his. Vanessa, ever the calming influence, would just sit with Violet for a while, talking to her softly, as if her voice alone could bring Violet back.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Wade and Vanessa had taken it upon themselves to fix the door that had been blasted to pieces during our last encounter. Wade had insisted on doing it himself, with Vanessa supervising to make sure he didn't turn it into another one of his "creative projects." I wasn't sure if the door would end up looking like it belonged in a normal apartment or if it would be some sort of over-the-top, Wade-style masterpiece, but either way, I appreciated the help.

As for me, I spent most of my time between the medical wing and the training room, trying to work off the restlessness that came from waiting. The training room was a good place to clear my head, to burn off the frustration of not being able to do more for Violet. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, at the end of the day, I always found myself back by her side, waiting for some sign of change.

Laura was doing her best to stay strong, but I could tell it was taking a toll on her too. She'd visit Violet every day, sometimes just sitting in silence, other times telling her about the small things happening around the mansion—who she'd met, what she'd learned. It was like she was trying to keep Violet connected to the world, even if she couldn't respond.

One morning, after another round in the training room, I found myself back in Violet's room, as usual. I sat down in the chair beside her bed, looking at her peaceful face, and sighed. "C'mon, Violet," I muttered, not for the first time. "We're all waiting for you."

The only response was the steady beep of the machines monitoring her, a sound I'd grown to both hate and find comfort in. It was a reminder that she was still here, even if she was taking her time finding her way back to us.

I leaned back in the chair, letting my eyes close for a moment, and just listened to the sounds of the mansion—the distant chatter, the occasional burst of laughter from the kids, the soft footsteps of people passing by. It was strange, this place. It wasn't home, not really, but it was starting to feel like something close to it.

I decided to take a small walk to clear my head, needing some air after the endless days of waiting. The grounds of the mansion were quiet, with the early morning sun casting long shadows across the grass. It was peaceful, but my mind was anything but. I kept thinking about Violet, about what would happen when she finally woke up. 

When I returned to the mansion, I was surprised to find Charles waiting for me at the front door. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes that put me on edge.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"She's awake," Charles said, his voice gentle but filled with an undercurrent of concern.

For a moment, all I felt was pure joy and relief. She was awake. After all this time, Violet was finally awake. I was ready to rush inside, to see her, to tell her how much I'd missed her, but before I could take a step, Charles held up a hand to stop me.

"Wait, Logan," he said, his tone more serious now. "There's something you need to know."

I turned to him, the joy in my chest quickly giving way to apprehension. 

"What is it?"Charles hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. 

"Violet has no memory of the last two months," he said as delicately as he could.

I stared at him, the words not quite sinking in at first. "What do you mean she lost her memory of the last two months?" I asked, my voice sharp with confusion.

Charles sighed, his expression somber. "She doesn't remember anything, Logan. Not the mission, not what happened with Strucker...not even meeting you."The words hit me like a punch to the gut. 

My mind reeled, trying to process what he was saying. "She doesn't remember me?" I repeated, the disbelief and anger beginning to bubble up inside me.

"No," Charles confirmed, his voice steady but filled with empathy. 

"It's as if those two months never happened for her. And there's more, Logan."I clenched my fists, the frustration building.

 "What more could there be?"

"You can't talk to her about your history together," Charles said, his tone firm but caring. 

"If you try to force those memories back, it could cause serious damage to her mind. She's fragile right now, and pushing her too hard could lead to a blackout or worse."The anger surged within me, hot and fierce. 

"So what, I'm just supposed to pretend like none of it happened? Like she means nothing to me?" I snapped, the idea of losing everything we'd built together hitting me hard.

"I know it's not fair, Logan," Charles said calmly, meeting my gaze with understanding. "But right now, we have to focus on her recovery. The memories may come back on their own in time, but you can't risk her safety by trying to force them. we need you to be patient, even if it's difficult."

"But I have the right to see her and talk to her right?" Hoping he would say yes. 

Charles sighed, his expression sympathetic yet firm. "I understand your frustration, Logan. You care about her deeply, and that's why this is so hard. But for now, it's best if we allow her the space she needs to heal. You can see her, but only when she's ready. Pushing her too soon might do more harm than good."

I clenched my fists, the tension in my body evident. "But I need to be there for her. She might not remember me, but I still remember her. I can't just sit back and do nothing."

As I continued to argue with Charles, my frustration boiling over, a familiar scent caught my attention. My head snapped in the direction of the source, heart pounding. It was her—Violet. I could smell her, that unique blend of sweetness and something else, something comforting that I couldn't put into words. My eyes locked onto her as she walked down the hallway with Hank by her side.

Without thinking, I began moving toward her, my need to be near her overwhelming any logic or reason. I could feel Charles's gaze on my back, but his words were drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears. I had to see her, to talk to her, to remind her of what we had, even if she didn't remember.

Violet's POV

I woke up in a room I'd never seen before. The walls were stark white, illuminated by bright overhead lights that gave everything an almost sterile feel. The surface I was lying on was hard and cold, a far cry from anything comfortable. As my senses returned, a sharp ache pulsed in my head, and I was bombarded by the sound of muffled voices—loud, chaotic, like I was suddenly thrust into the middle of New York City during rush hour. The noise was overwhelming, making my head throb even more as I sat up, wincing in pain.

The cacophony abruptly ceased when the round door across the room slid open with a soft hiss. A man in a lab coat stepped inside. He was scrawny, with glasses perched on his nose, and an air of calm that didn't match the unsettling environment. He noticed that I was awake and offered a small smile, one that didn't seem threatening, so I didn't feel the need to fight or flee.

"You're finally awake," he said, his tone gentle but with an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite place.

I blinked at him, trying to piece together where I was and how I got here, but nothing came to mind. My memory was blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. Panic started to rise in my chest, but I forced it down, focusing on the man in front of me.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice rough from disuse.

The man hesitated for a moment, as if considering how much to tell me. "you're fine, You're safe," he finally said, but the answer only made me more uneasy. Safe didn't tell me anything. Safe didn't explain why I couldn't remember anything or why my head felt like it was splitting in two.

"Why am I here?" I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing anxiety. The man adjusted his glasses, his gaze shifting slightly. "You've been through a lot. There was an... incident. You might not remember everything right now, but that's okay. We're here to help you."

I frowned, the words not adding up in my mind. An incident? What kind of incident? And who were we? I needed answers, but the pounding in my head made it hard to think straight.

"What do you mean, an incident? What happened to me?" I asked, my frustration starting to seep into my voice.

The man sighed softly, looking at me with a mix of sympathy and caution. "It's a lot to process, and I don't want to overwhelm you. But for now, just know that you're in a safe place, and we'll help you get through this."

His words did little to comfort me, only deepening the unease gnawing at the edges of my mind. What wasn't he telling me? The questions spun in my head, each one more urgent than the last.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, my voice shaky despite my efforts to stay calm. I could feel the panic creeping up, threatening to take over.

The man in the lab coat hesitated, his eyes flicking away from mine before he answered. "You've been unconscious for about a week," he said softly, as if trying to ease the blow.

A week. The word echoed in my mind, leaving me reeling. An entire week of my life, gone. My thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all. I couldn't remember how I got here or why I was wearing this ridiculous suit, I couldn't remember much, but it felt like there was something important missing—something just out of reach.

"What happened to me?" I asked again, more desperately this time. "Why can't I remember everything?"

The man stepped closer, holding up his hands as if to calm me. "It's normal to feel disoriented after what you've been through. Your memories might return with time. For now, you just need to focus on resting and regaining your strength."

I nodded slowly, though his words did little to ease the growing anxiety within me. There was a void in my memory, and I had to figure out what I was missing. But for now, I needed to stay calm, stay focused, and find out more about where I was and who this man was. The answers would come, but I had to be patient.

"Okay, but where exactly am I?" I asked, the anxiety in my voice growing. I needed to know more than vague reassurances—I needed the truth.

Before the man in the lab coat could respond, the door behind him opened, and someone else entered the room. My attention shifted immediately to the newcomer. He was a man in a wheelchair, his presence commanding yet calm. He looked not too young but not too old, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, and his head was completely bald.

The man in the lab coat stepped aside respectfully, as if deferring to the man in the wheelchair. The newcomer's gaze met mine, and in that moment, I felt a strange sense of familiarity, though I couldn't place it.

"You must have many questions," the man in the wheelchair said, his voice steady and reassuring. "And you deserve answers. But first, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Charles Xavier."

There was something in the way he spoke, a calm authority that put me slightly at ease despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

"Where am I?" I repeated, my voice a mix of determination and confusion. "What is this place?"

Charles Xavier nodded, understanding the urgency of my need for information. "You're at a facility that's part of my school—a place where we help individuals like you learn to understand and control their abilities. You've been through a great deal, and you're safe here, Violet."

His words were gentle, but they carried weight. A school? Abilities? The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but there were still so many gaps, so many unknowns.

"Why can't I remember anything?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as the frustration and fear threatened to overwhelm me.

"That is something we will work on together," Charles Xavier said kindly. "You've experienced something traumatic, and your mind has protected you by blocking out certain memories. But I believe, in time, those memories will return."

I looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but found none. There was only sincerity and a deep understanding of what I was going through. Despite the confusion and fear, a part of me wanted to trust him, to believe that he could help me make sense of all this. But trust wasn't something that came easily to me, not after everything I had been through. Still, for now, I had no choice but to follow his lead and try to piece together the fragments of my past.

Before I could respond, a sharp, searing pain suddenly shot through my head, even more intense than before. It felt like my skull was being split open, the agony so overwhelming that it nearly knocked the breath out of me. I gasped, clutching my head with both hands as the pain pulsed through my temples, making it impossible to think, to focus on anything other than the sheer, blinding agony.

Charles Xavier's expression immediately shifted to one of concern, and he wheeled himself closer, his blue eyes filled with worry. The man in the lab coat stepped forward, looking alarmed, but it was Charles who spoke first.

"Violet, listen to my voice," he said, his tone calm but urgent. "Focus on my voice and try to breathe. I'm here to help you."

I tried to do as he said, tried to focus on his voice, but the pain was so intense that it felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside. My vision blurred, and I could feel the edges of my consciousness slipping away, the world around me fading as the pain threatened to pull me under.

"Stay with me, Violet," Charles urged, his voice steady, a lifeline in the storm of agony. "You're stronger than this. Focus on my voice. Breathe."

I clung to his words, forcing myself to take deep, shaky breaths, trying to push through the pain. Slowly, the blinding intensity began to subside, the sharpness dulling to a throbbing ache that still pulsed through my head but was no longer overwhelming.

As the pain receded, I opened my eyes, still breathing heavily, my body trembling from the effort. Charles was watching me closely, his gaze filled with both concern and something else—an understanding that went beyond mere sympathy.

"You're not alone, Violet," he said softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that I desperately needed in that moment. "We're here to help you through this. Whatever you're experiencing, you don't have to face it on your own."

I nodded weakly, too drained to respond with words, but something in his tone, in the way he spoke, made me want to believe him. The pain had left me shaken, but his presence, and the calm authority in his voice, was like an anchor, keeping me grounded in the midst of the storm.

As the pain gradually subsided, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, but I forced myself to stay focused. The guy in the lab coat, who had been standing by anxiously, stepped forward and spoke gently.

"I'm going to check your vitals now, just to see if there's anything medically wrong," he said, his voice calm and professional.

I hesitated for a moment, still wary, but then I nodded. "Okay," I replied, my voice still a bit shaky. I wasn't sure what was happening to me, but if there was something physically wrong, I needed to know.

As he checked my vitals, Charles asked me a question. "What is the last thing you do remember, Violet?"

I looked at him, trying to concentrate. "I, uh..." I struggled to focus, sifting through my memories. "I remember getting off work and walking to the coffee shop to meet my friend Vanessa." I squinted my eyes as I spoke, trying to grasp onto that memory.

Charles nodded, looking at me attentively. "Okay, and what day is it?"

I looked at him, confused. "June 23rd?"

As I said that, he glanced at the guy across from me, who paused for a moment before continuing his work. There was a look on both of their faces that made me uneasy.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling like something was wrong.

"Nothing is wrong, Violet," Charles said, placing his hand over mine. I flinched at the sudden movement, but surprisingly, it didn't bother me.

For some reason I didn't believe him, but I decided not to press further, my hunger suddenly taking over.

As Glasses finished checking my vitals, Charles spoke up again, his tone gentle. "Are you hungry, Violet?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I admitted, surprised at how quickly the hunger grew in my stomach.

Charles nodded with a small smile. "Alright. Hank," he said, turning to the man in the lab coat, "when you're done, please take Violet to the kitchen so she can get something to eat."

The man—Hank—nodded, focusing on his work. "Of course," he replied, checking my pulse and then adjusting the cuff on my arm.

As I watched him, I couldn't help but feel a bit curious. "Hank? That's your name?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

He glanced up at me with a small smile. "Yeah, Hank McCoy," he said, his tone friendly.

I nodded, filing the name away. There was something comforting about having a name to go with the face, something that made this whole situation feel a little less alien.

After a few more checks, Hank stepped back, satisfied with the readings. "Everything looks stable," he said, turning to Charles. "I'll take her to the kitchen now."

Charles gave me a reassuring nod. "Go with Hank, Violet. Get something to eat and take a moment to rest. We'll talk more after you've had a chance to recover a bit."

I nodded, feeling a bit more grounded than before, and allowed Hank to help me off the examination table. My legs felt weak and I felt like I was going to fall down but Hank swiftly grabbed me and I held onto his arm as we headed toward the door. As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions—confusion, fear, but also a small spark of hope. Whatever had happened to me, whatever this place was, I wasn't alone in it. And that made all the difference.

As I walked alongside Hank, I tried to push aside the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind. The situation was overwhelming, and I knew I needed a distraction, something to keep me from dwelling on the fear and confusion that threatened to take over. I glanced at Hank, noticing for the first time that he had a kind face, one that exuded both intelligence and warmth. A thought crossed my mind, and I found myself smirking slightly—he was kind of cute.

Trying to lighten the mood and distract myself, I decided to make conversation. "So, what do you do here besides check vitals?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Hank looked over at me, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, checking vitals is just one of my many talents," he replied with a playful tone. "But most of the time, I'm a scientist. I specialize in genetics and biochemistry. I also do a fair bit of engineering—anything from creating new technology to improving existing systems."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "Wow, that's... a lot," I said, trying to wrap my head around it. "So, you're like a genius, then?"

Hank chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I wouldn't go that far. I just have a deep love for science and a curiosity that never seems to be satisfied. There's always something new to discover or understand."

His passion for his work was evident in the way he spoke, and it was contagious. For a moment, it made me forget the confusion and fear I had been feeling, and instead, I found myself intrigued by this man who clearly had a brilliant mind.

"So, do you get to do a lot of that here? The science and engineering stuff, I mean," I asked, genuinely interested in what his day-to-day life might be like in a place like this.

"All the time," Hank replied with a nod. "This place is like a second home to me. It's where I can fully explore the possibilities of my work, and it's also a place where I can help others—people like you—understand their abilities and potential."

His words struck a chord with me. There was something reassuring about the idea that this place wasn't just a sterile lab or a prison—it was a place for learning and growth, a place where people could discover who they were meant to be.

As we continued down the hallway, I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. Hank's presence and the way he spoke about his work made me feel like maybe, just maybe, this was a place where I could start to figure things out.

Hank glanced at his phone, checking something briefly before looking back at me with a smile. "Well, it looks like I'm going to be your guide for the day," he said, his tone light and friendly.I couldn't help but smile back, feeling a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders. "A guide, huh? So, what does that entail?"

Hank chuckled softly. "Basically, I'll be showing you around, making sure you're comfortable, and answering any questions you might have. Think of me as your personal tour guide and support system all rolled into one."

"That doesn't sound too bad," I replied, genuinely appreciating his warmth and willingness to help. "I could definitely use a guide right about now."

He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I'm here to help with whatever you need. And who knows? Maybe by the end of the day, this place won't seem quite so overwhelming."

As we continued walking, I found myself feeling a bit more at ease. Hank's easygoing nature and the way he approached everything with a sense of calm made the situation feel less intimidating. Maybe having a guide through all of this wasn't such a bad thing after all. We finally made it to the kitchen, and Hank kindly made me a sandwich. I was so hungry that I devoured it in minutes, barely pausing to breathe. The food helped calm my nerves, and we chatted a bit more, the conversation light and easy. It felt nice, almost normal, which was something I hadn't experienced in what felt like a long time.

As we talked, I glanced down at myself and realized I was still wearing a purple suit. It looked a lot like the one I had at home, but there was something different about it—something better. It hugged my skin perfectly, almost like it was tailored specifically for me.

"Is there any way I could change out of this?" I asked, a hint of frustration in my voice. "I feel like a comic book character wearing this."

Hank smiled, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "We tried," he admitted. "My assistant actually attempted to put you in different clothes, but the suit... well, it's stuck to your skin. We couldn't get it off."

His words made me freeze. I looked down at the suit again, more closely this time. It was seamless, almost like a second skin, and the more I looked, the more I realized he was right—it wasn't just clothing; it was somehow bonded to me.

Without really thinking about it, I flicked my wrist in frustration. To my shock, the suit vanished, replaced by a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants. I stared down at myself, then looked up at Hank, who was equally stunned.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and curiosity. I shook my head, still processing what had just happened. "I have no idea," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "I just... did it."

Hank studied me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and concern. "It seems your abilities are manifesting in ways we didn't anticipate," he said softly. "We're going to have to figure out the extent of what you can do."

I nodded slowly, trying to wrap my head around everything. Whatever was happening to me, it was more than just a change of clothes—it was something far deeper, something I didn't fully understand yet. And that realization was both thrilling and terrifying. As we walked back from the kitchen, Hank turned to me with a friendly smile. "I'm going to give you a tour so you don't get lost, and then I'll show you to your room."

I blinked in surprise. "My room? I'll be staying here?" The thought hadn't really crossed my mind until now. My mind immediately went to my apartment, the life I had outside of this place. "What about my apartment?"

Hank's smile remained reassuring. "Don't worry, we'll take care of that," he said, his tone calm and confident. "We have people who can manage those details for you. Right now, it's important that you focus on getting better and understanding your abilities."

I nodded, though the idea of leaving my apartment behind, even temporarily, made me feel a little uneasy. My apartment was my sanctuary, a place where I felt in control of my life. The thought of staying here, in this unfamiliar place, was daunting.

But Hank's calm demeanor and the way he spoke made it easier to accept. I had to trust that they knew what they were doing and that, for now, this was where I needed to be.

"Alright," I said finally, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Lead the way."

Hank smiled again and began guiding me through the halls, pointing out different rooms and areas, explaining what each one was for. Despite my initial apprehension, I couldn't help but be a little curious. This place was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, and I knew that, for better or worse, this was going to be my home for a while. As Hank was guiding me through the winding halls, pointing out various rooms and explaining their purposes, we rounded a corner and saw Professor Xavier in what looked like a heated argument with another man. The man was tall, with a stern expression and an intensity that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Who's that?" I whispered to Hank, nodding toward the two men.

Hank's expression tightened, and he subtly tried to steer us in a different direction. "It's best if we go this way," he said quietly, clearly hoping to avoid whatever was happening up ahead. But before we could change course, the man caught sight of us. His eyes locked onto me, and without hesitation, he started striding in our direction, his expression a mix of determination and something I couldn't quite place. 

Professor Xavier quickly moved to intercept him, his wheelchair gliding smoothly across the floor. "Wait—please, this isn't the time," the Professor urged, his voice calm but firm as he reached out to stop the man.

But the man ignored him, his focus entirely on me. My heart started to race, a mix of anxiety and curiosity churning inside me. Whoever this guy was, it was clear that he was intent on reaching me, and that made me both nervous and intrigued.

Hank stepped closer to me, his posture protective as the man approached. "Stay behind me," Hank murmured, his voice low.

The tension in the air was thick, and I could feel the weight of whatever was about to happen pressing down on me. I had no idea who this man was or what he wanted, but something told me this encounter was going to be important. The man's gaze remained locked on me, his eyes intense and unyielding. As Professor Xavier moved closer, trying to reason with him, the tension in the air became almost suffocating.

"Move," the man growled at Hank, his voice low and threatening. 

Hank stood his ground, his body tense as he tried to shield me from whatever this man's intentions were. But it was clear that the man wasn't going to be deterred easily. His focus was entirely on me, as if nothing else in the room existed.

Professor Xavier wheeled himself closer, his tone calm but firm. "Please, you need to listen. This isn't the way to handle this."

But the man didn't budge. He didn't even acknowledge the Professor's words, his eyes boring into mine with a mixture of intensity and desperation that made my heart pound in my chest.I felt like I was caught in a standoff, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. My mind raced with questions—who was this man, and why was he so intent on reaching me? What did he want? And why was he looking at me like that?

Hank's voice was calm but edged with warning as he spoke. "You need to back off. Now."

The man's expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But instead, he simply took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from mine. Whatever he wanted, it was clear that he wasn't leaving until he got it. Hank, still standing protectively in front of me, spoke in a measured tone. "Charles already spoke to you about her situation. Give her space."

Confusion swirled in my mind. "Why?" I asked, my voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. I needed to understand what was happening and why this man was staring at me like that.

I took a step forward, peering around Hank. "Who are you?" I asked the man directly, my voice firm but laced with uncertainty.

For a moment, the intensity in the man's eyes softened, as if he wanted to say something, to explain himself. There was a flicker of something—regret, sorrow, or perhaps a connection I couldn't quite grasp. But just as quickly, he turned away, the words left unsaid. Without another glance, he walked off, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

I watched him go, my mind racing with questions. Who was he, and why did he look at me like that? And why was Hank so intent on keeping him away from me? The encounter left me more confused than ever, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important I was missing. I turned to Hank, my mind still reeling from the strange encounter. Professor Xavier had already wheeled himself after the man, clearly concerned about the situation. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

"Who was that guy?" I asked, my voice tinged with both curiosity and frustration.

Hank hesitated, glancing briefly in the direction the man had gone before looking back at me. He seemed to weigh his words carefully, as if unsure how to respond. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"That's Logan," he said simply.

Part 14: First Impressions

[invaderzia1]

ascension

wanderers never been good at expressing his emotions. he used to find them useless and would bury them far into himself. but he’s grown from that now, so he figures he needs to learn.

wanderer is big into acts of service for you. he feels the need to prove he’s worthy to keep around, even if you’ve told him he is. so after you help him reach ascension, he starts to think how to repay you. I mean, you spent so much hard work making him more powerful, which if most people did remember who he was would call you a fool. but you keep coming back with new things to help him feel more powerful.

he starts by asking nahida about the process and starts to figure out what you would need to ascend. after a week of investigating, he’s able to plan it out quite easily. then he has to plan how he can avoid you to gather the supplies. as his travel companion, you are always next to him. so he starts using your sleep schedule against you and leaves once you are asleep.

you start to notice how sneaky he is being, at first it doesn’t bother you because he’s never gone for more than two hours and he always comes back to you. and you are aware as a puppet, sleep isn’t as important for him as it is for humans. then one night he doesn’t come back, you wake up expecting him to be waiting for you in you’re shared room, but he’s no where to be found. he’s gone for hours and you start to worry. you start asking people in sumeru city if they’ve seen him, to no avail. then you turn to nahida, who is able to provide more insight into his whereabouts. so you set out to find him, determined to make sure he’s alright.

it’s raining, harshly. worse than you’ve seen recently, but you refuse to turn back until you’ve verified he’s alright. you push through the wind and rain as it soaks through the many layers of your coat. you can barely see what’s ahead of you, but you remember the layout pretty well, so you head to where she said he would be.

as you get closer you see him, he’s walking towards you but it seems he didn’t notice it was you yet. so you rush forward, startling him at your sudden presence. you are staring at him with an expression he can’t discern at first, not with the intensity of the rain, but then your arms wrap around him and pull him close and it provides him his answer. relief. he doesn’t know why it provokes a feeling deep within him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not with your warm embrace holding him close.

it takes him a moment to realize how wet you are already and how far from sumeru city you are. he scolds and pulls you under some cliffs that provide an escape from the rain. he can’t help but fuss, pulling your forgotten hood over your head and trying best to dry you, all the while scolding you for your carelessness. once he feels content with his fussing he’ll stop and let the quietness of the storm overtake the moment.

wanderer then figures now would be the best moment, having worried you enough to risk illness to find him. he’s never been the best at planning things like this, so he opts to just pull them from his bag and hand them to you, barely meeting your eyes. instead he opts to monitor your reaction as you reach out to inspect them. before you can question what the occasion is the wind around you changes and begins to swirl around the two of you, a warm light emitting from each object and your vision. your eyes widen in understanding as the ritual completes.

your eyes sparkle up at him as each object disappears once the ritual completes. your eyes well with tears and for a second wanderer worries he was presumptuous in assuming you’d want this. but then for a second time this day, your arms wrap around him, not as tightly as before but equally as warm. you whisper thank you’s against his neck as you try to quell your emotions. ever so carefully, his arms wrap around you and hold you softly against him, a small smile on his lips.

wanderers never been good at expressing his emotions, but he’s slowly learning. if only for you.

[goodtoyous]

The Trouble With Tagging

Tagging in fandom is useful, but ultimately detrimental because of how people are using it.

When I shop online for shoes, tagging is what lets me filter my view to white sneakers in size 7.5. But there are other attributes I look for in shoes. Maybe I want shoes with widely-spaced holes so they aren’t too tight when I lace them. Maybe I want to buy soles that aren’t too thick because I think that makes them clunky. And there will be other people who have these preferences too, so that must mean they’re useful classifications to have!

So it should be in a company’s best interest to provide me a way to find white sneakers in size 7.5 with widely-spaced holes, thinner soles, and whatever else I want in my shoes. Because otherwise it’s just a waste of time for me to buy something and return it later when I don’t like it, right?

No. Absolutely not.

I can’t ask for all the shoes that aren’t red to be tagged as #Not Red. I can’t ask for all shoes to be tagged #Loose Around the Ankles, when that isn’t a universal metric. The best way for me to find the shoes I want, and maybe this is still somehow controversial but I can’t imagine how, is to go into the store MYSELF and either try on shoes until I find ones I like, or ask a salesperson to help me.

Yet, somehow, people fail to see how this applies to tagging.

Back in the days of cable television, when a show was about to start, you’d see a rating and a content warning. ‘Viewer discretion is advised’, and maybe a few more words on what kind of content to expect: crude language, sexual situations, or graphic violence. We still use variations of those ratings and contents warnings on AO3 today, and they are very useful, standardized indicators.

Writers would use these indicators, and it was understood certain ratings would contain adult topics. There was nuance there, and room for interpretation, and responsibility on the reader’s side for monitoring their own content consumption.

In fandom, we coined our own terms to help enforce the idea that fanfiction was a free space for everyone to write what they wanted. ‘Don’t like; don’t read’ (DL;DR) is a common term that has perhaps become less common over the years, and has lost some of the meaning it used to have.

DL;DR does not mean ‘we, the writers, will warn for every topic that this work will include so you can avoid it’. What it meant was, if you read a story and came across something you didn’t like, you would stop reading. It did not have to be something triggering, it could just be something you didn’t like. You would hit the back button and that was the end of it.

Using tags became a way to include additional information on a story so that people could avoid certain topics more easily. So that back button didn’t need to be hit quite as often. Nowadays, I feel as though people have begun to see it as a requirement.

People will preach about wanting to avoid content they don't want, but you have always been able to do that from the very beginning. You always have the option to close the tab, to stop reading.

‘I wouldn’t have read this if I had known ___’ is a complaint most writers are not unfamiliar with. Readers complain about having wasted their time on stories that were ‘disappointing’, ‘problematic’, or ‘misleading’, simply because there is an aspect of a story they disagree with.

If a story doesn’t have ‘Unhappy Ending’ slapped on it, readers hold the author responsible for their emotional response. If one topic isn’t tagged, the author is somehow at fault for being ignorant, insensitive, or irresponsible.

It is grossly misleading to approach this by assuming authors are acting incorrectly, or possess malicious intent for not including a tag. Simplifying fiction by categorizing it into tags is exactly what that is, simplifying it. Maybe it isn’t tagged because it's a spoiler. Maybe the author didn't think it was an important aspect of the story. Maybe they just forgot!

If an author is mistagging and misrepresenting their work, that is a different story that is subject to different nuances. But it is not a requirement, unspoken or otherwise, to include a tag, because this isn’t how reading works! There is a reason why 'Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings' exists, and that is because tags are for an author to classify their own work how they see fit. It is their choice!

People have been trained by social media into not curating their own content; they let algorithms and FYPs do it for them, and when they see something they don't like, they blame it on the person who posted it.

"How dare anyone encroach on this public space with something I don't want to see!"

So I ask you this: does an author’s opinions and desires on how their work is presented not matter? Are authors shackled to public opinion irregardless of what they believe is most important about their own creation? Should creative control be fully relinquished because people who had nothing to do with a work's creative process believe they know better?

If your answer to that last question isn’t a firm, resounding NO, then you are admitting you feel more entitled to a creator’s work than the actual creator.

Society has evolved to no longer value art for being art, but value art only if it is able to conform to various labels for commodified consumption. Yet there is no faster way to kill true art than to try and cram it into a billion tiny little boxes.

Fiction is subjective. Tastes are subjective. Tagging is useful, but it isn’t everything. Take responsibility for the content you consume. Stop asking people to pick out your shoes for you, and go try some on for yourself.