#fucking alternative universes have me in a chokehold

[sheeperzzz]

#theyre my sillies #look at them #theyre so stupid #fucking alternative universes have me in a chokehold #ben 10 #albedo ben 10 #mad ben #ben 23 #ben prime

[undeniablyares]

This was a fun little post that was going on around Twitter that I wanted to share here for those that follow me here. ✨

1. Accidentally Demonic. It is hands down my favorite fic of mine to read and write, and I only have 3 chapters out currently. Just based on the overall tone, what I've done so far, and what's to come based on my chapter maps/planning, I think it will be one of my best works ever. Y'all are really in for it.

2. Accidentally an Oiran is my most popular fic. The sheer amount of support, engagement, and interest will forever be mind-boggling to me. It was my first long fic, my first Akaren story I started, it brought me out of my shell and introduced me to all you amazing people within the KNY fandom. It will always hold a special place in my heart, and I'm forever grateful for all of you that enjoy it. 🔥❄️

3. Breathe. It's weird, sad af, and wildly out of character, but I think we need more Senjuro-centered fics. I adore character studies, and a badass, dark version of Senjuro is just so fucking cool. I also think it's the most mature thing I've written as I try to characterize a tough, clever, slayer Senjuro who is fueled by grief and spite. I'm dying to get back to it so I can keep the plot going.

4. I am such a sap for the childhood friends to lovers trope in romance/erotica. I'm also into that weird, one-sided pining where the other is an idiot and doesn't realize their friend has always been in love with them until much later, then falls for the friend and it becomes mutual pining until one nuts up and finally confesses. Confusing slow burns have me in a chokehold. 😅🥲

5. Soulmates alternate universes are probably my least favorite trope to read or write. This likely stems from my own spiritual beliefs and ideas about the universe, more than anything else. Not bashing the idea at all, as it's adorably romantic, it's just not my favorite. Reincarnation alternate universe ideas are different, though. I'll fuck with a reincarnation au anytime. 😅

6. I have a longer fic idea that I want to do with either a slayer Akaza or Hakuji and Pillar Kyo, where Kyo gets turned into a demon at the beginning and Akaza/Hakuji has to fight to try and find a cure for him, or like a Tokyo Ghoul sort of scenario that rewrites Mugen Train to have Kyo survive from a makeshift transfusion of Akaza's blood and becoming a half-demon from it. (I really love demon Kyo ideas 🫣)

7. Accidentally an Oiran is my longest fanfic currently, but not my longest work ever. I write original fiction that's longer that is dark fantasy/horror and erotica with LGBTQ+ characters that I am currently editing and hoping to actually publish one day.

8. Snake Eyes, the Akaren Week mythology prompt, is currently my shortest fic.

9. My list of collaborations that I inwardly pine for consists of working with some of my favorite Akaren writers, but I'm far too nervous to ever initiate anything with anyone else. My faves are GremlinCat, Blueberrybagel, saigne, OllieWritesAll, GodlessOx, and BTS2016dia on AO3. I can dream, anyway. 😅🫣 That being said, all Akaren is good Akaren. I am always down to collab with anyone about anything Akaren at any time. This also goes for artists that are interested in me writing stories to go along with their art or comics. My DMs are literally always open to anyone. 😌

10. My most used tags are Kyojurou lives, porn with plot/feelings, and anal. I am a predictable man with fine tastes. 😂

11. My AO3 account is linked at the bottom. The update schedule is going to be, for the very near future: Ch. 3 of Bad Pillar, the Wet and Messy | Massages | Body Worship Akaren Kinktober prompt, Dubiously Married Part 3, and chapters 3 for Accidentally Human and Accidentally Reborn. The 2023 update schedule will likely consist of more with the Accidentally Routes, the longer modern au BDSM Akaren fic I'm planning, and the Demon Rehab fic. Stay tuned, friends. Trying to feed y'all well. 😌

https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeniablyAres/works

#fanfic #fanfiction #demon slayer fanfic #smut #queer writers #akaren #renkaza #ao3 writer #demon slayer #ao3 author #ao3 #wip updates

[playingfetchwithdinosaurs]

Your opinion on tropes!

Ho boy, okay, just going to do a ranking of my favorite ones (honestly in no order in particular, except number one, number one is number one) and if you want my opinion on others please let me know

Friends to lovers - listen this cannot be beat okay, this has it all; truth be told i dont know how anyone even dates someone they aren't friends with to begin with

Enemies to friends to lovers - also this has it all, the tension, the moment of "oh fuck i actually like them" but friends to lovers took first place because idk its soft

Mutual Pining - need i explain why no fic is complete without this Special shout out to idiots in love - it belongs in this category - example Person A can read Person B's emotions, but Person A is an idiot and it takes him forever to realize Person B is in love with them too

Late night conversations +/- cuddling - theres something about the vulnerability of just talking to someone in the middle of the night that gets me

There's only one bed - self-explanatory

Hurt / Comfort - self-explanatory

Slow Burn - have i mentioned how much i fucking love the slow build up and angst and tension and just the joy of shit working out

Fluff - just give me the two of them being domestic and happy and treating each other right and i'll be set

Soulmate AU - especially when its like reincarnation or the you can read whatever your soulmate writes on you or you can only see your soulmate in dreams or something like that; bonus points if they're best friends but don't know they're each other's soulmates. Also bestie let me tell you, there was this soulmate au fic that forever has me in a chokehold: it was basically My skin literally burns everyone but you're the only person who can touch me and not get burned and It's not necessarily stated as a soulmate AU but shit still felt like it. God what a shame the last half of that fic wasn't as good as the first half.

Fake dating - MY GOD if this doesn't fucking have it all, especially if its a friends to lovers situation - there’s a REALLY FUCKING GOOD Percabeth one i can share w you if you want 

Alternate Universe - I love a good AU where its the exact same characters but just in a modern setting.

#im not sure how to do it but if i knew how i would love to export all my ao3 bookmarks and find what my most commonly read tags are #i mean i probably know what it already is but ya know #asks #bcyoureallthatmakessense #send me a thing and i'll give you an opinion on it #lol new personality test just dropped - list your favorite fanfic tropes #Special shout out to cuddling/snuggling - is that a trope? i dont fucking know

[dribs-and-drabbles]

reveal your watch & rewatch drama list

I got tagged by the wonderful @jemmo so thank you my lovely!

Currently watching (in order of enjoyment):

The Eclipse: It's only been one ep so far but what a good first ep! As @jemmo said: "confident rebel gay meets uptight golden-boy gay panic in a enemies to lovers plot shrouded in supernatural mystery and system oppression. sign me the fuck up." It hooked me and reeled me in and now has me in a chokehold already. First, Khaotung, Neo and Louis...my heart can't take it. Well, it can and it's gonna. I'm not saying it could reach BB levels of brain rot fever...but it might come close.

Love Mechanics: Oh I just love my messy gays/bis. Oh the angst. Oh the pining. Oh just everything. (Yes, there are some elements of the storyline that I could do without but I'm turning a blind eye because I love the rest). This show is like bathing in a tub of lemon sorbet on a freaking hot day - it feels damn good, it might even taste amazing, but it's gonna leave a mess, and might end up in places where sorbet perhaps shouldn't be.

Vice Versa: This show has moved through one of the storylines quicker than I expected, so now it feels a bit 'plotless' since they're not making as much of the alternative universe element as they probably could have...but I just adore Jimmy and Sea (and we get Neo again!) and all the others, and I'm hoping this will continue to be as good as it's been so far. I'm also doing a colour analysis of each ep, hoping that they might have been attaching meaning to some colours, but I think they're just using them creatively in their design - I still love the detailing though!

My Secret Love: I love the ost. Love it. I wish the show could be as good as the ost. But the show itself isn't bad...just, it could have been better. The actors are fine, the couple dynamics are sweet, but I could have done without the 'I will sacrifice our love to make sure you don't sacrifice your career and in the process break your heart as well as mine' break-up - they could have just talked about it and found a resolution without the pain...but whatever. It's the last ep on Saturday, so I'm sure we'll get a HEA for all.

21 Days Theory: I started this because some people were gushing about it but I'm not really into it. I don't like the foundation of the couple - the way one started off by bullying and teasing the other like the outdated 'if a boy pulls your pigtails it means he likes you' bullcrap. Right now, I don't think Q should end up with X. I don't think X deserves to have Q fall for him. Even with my rose tinted bl glasses on, I don't think this is romance...but if it's really only four episodes then I'll finish watching to see if it gets better.

Coffee Melody: I watched the first two eps and then I haven't really gotten around to watching anymore. It's quite slow and, dare I say it, a bit boring. I want to like it, and maybe I will continue at some point, but it didn't grab me and I don't have much time at the moment, so I'd rather use that time in other ways.

Starting soon:

I might try out My Only 12%...and isn't there a MAME one starting on Friday? (just shows how much time I have to pay attention!)...but other than that I don't think there's anything else on the horizon.

I've tagged a lot of people recently in stuff so I'll keep this short... @athousandbyeol @shortpplfedup @tipsyjaehyun @tachineko if you wanna do it, if not, no worries!

#yay another one of these #watch and rewatch drama list #the eclipse #love mechanics #vice versa #my secret love #21 days theory #coffee melody

[lesbianlotties]

five times Deena and Sam met in secret (and one time they didn’t) - Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/6 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, High School, Cheerleaders, Band, Teenagers, Teen Romance, First Meetings, First Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Happy Ending

Secrets.

Deena and Sam met by accident. They fell in love in secret.

But how long can they last together like that?

Chapter 3 - secret friendships:

Sam and Deena’s relationship was developing fast. They had evolved from meeting among the dark and dirt under the bleachers, to the dim light and cramped space of janitor’s closets. Finally, they had made it all the way to the girl’s bathroom when everyone else was supposed to be in class. There was more space and light. Plus, they had recently discovered how much they enjoyed making out.

One day, Sam was pressed between her girlfriend and one of the sinks. Deena kissed, Sam thought, like she talked. Slowly, confidently, meaning every single movement of her lips. That, in addition to Deena's hand on her waist, with her thumb rubbing soft but maddening circles above her uniform, made Sam feel like her knees would give in. All she could do was grip the edge of the sink behind her until her knuckles turned white. She didn’t trust herself very much in the event that she allowed her fingers to grasp her girlfriend's clothes. At least, she could communicate well enough with the way she kissed the other girl.

A particular swipe from Deena’s tongue on her bottom lip, obliged Sam to let out a small moan that didn’t go unnoticed by Deena. Sam could just feel her smirk through the kiss. She could play that game. If Deena’s kisses were languid and thorough, Sam knew how to balance things out by kissing her faster, pressing their lips harder, taking Deena’s bottom lip between her teeth and lightly pulling.

“Sam…” Deena exhaled, her voice trembling noticeably enough to make Sam smile. Deena tightened her hold on Sam’s hips and pulled her closer. “Baby,” she whispered, then moved to begin kissing Sam’s neck.

“Deena… stop, someone could come in,” Sam protested, albeit weakly, while letting go of the sink’s edge with one hand so she could wrap that arm around Deena’s shoulders, to keep her firmly in place.

At the time, Deena hadn’t yet stopped to consider Sam’s contradictions as a bad sign. She was head over heels, lost in the feeling of having her girlfriend in her arms, her pulse beating under the pressure of her lips, her small hand clutching the back of Deena’s jacket. It was pure bliss, no need to fear the future.

“I like your cheerleader uniform,” Deena mumbled, smiling against Sam’s neck. Her fingers even tugged slightly on the fabric of said uniform so the skirt would rise just slightly on Sam’s tights.

“Oh my God,” Sam laughed fondly, throwing her other arm over Deena’s shoulder. “I’m serious!” She insisted, her tone full of mirth.

Deena finally pulled back to stare at her girlfriend. “So am I!” She laughed. 

For a moment, all that mattered was holding each other and laughing together. Laughing at nothing in particular, just as the most natural reaction to that perfect pocket of heaven they had made for themselves. Sam moved a hand to push away Deena’s messy hair off her face, and left her hand there on her cheek. Soon, she was getting lost in Deena’s eyes, something not uncommon at all, it seemed. Those eyes held an incredible and welcoming warmth in them. Sam had been surprised the first time she watched Deena speak to other people, strangers in the hallways, and how closed off and even bitter those eyes could turn. But, the one scary thing about those gorgeous brown eyes, was the way that in their depths Sam could see immense valor, fearlessness, bravery that Sam wasn’t sure she could match. She preferred not to think about a day when she wouldn’t be brave enough for Deena, and instead she daydreamed about a perfect world where her feelings for the other girl could make her as unafraid as she longed to be, and as Deena appeared to believe she was.

“Sam?” Deena gently pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward enough to softly rub her nose against Deena’s. Not too long later, Deena was kissing her, as if there hadn’t been a pause at all. “Oh my God,” Sam chuckled, pulling away, “You’re-”

“A great kisser?”

“Relentless!”

Although Sam lightly slapped her shoulder, Deena could only continue to grin. “You enjoy it,” she defended herself. Then it was Deena’s turn to stare at her girlfriend. Sam had grown thoughtful again, but this time staring at the bathroom's door. She didn’t even seem to notice the way her fingers mindlessly played with Deena’s hair. It came to her so naturally that when she noticed, Deena’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the luckiest person in the world, with Sam in her arms. She felt like she was above Shadyside’s curse, like all problems had solutions and nothing bad could last for long. That’s not to say that she wasn’t as terrified as Sam. Shouldn’t she be skeptical of feeling so good? Shouldn’t she be wary of the dark corners around them? And the judgemental eyes in the hallways? It wasn’t so easy. It was just easier to comfort Sam instead of facing her own fears.

“Are you nervous?” Deen blurted out.

“Huh?” Sam looked back at her, caught in the act. She even looked back at the closed door once more before giving Deena all her attention. “No, I’m not nervous.”

“Yes, you are,” Deena patiently pointed out.

Sam looked away and took a deep breath. “You care about your friends,” she exhaled. “I’ve never had friends as good as yours. I… want to make a good impression.”

Deena was almost upset at the ridiculous amount of butterflies she felt fluttering in her stomach at the sight of a nervous Sam looking down after admitting that. She took the opportunity to leave a kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead.

“Josh already likes you,” Deena pointed out.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me!” Sam complained and hid her face in the crook Deena’s neck.

Just a couple of days ago, Deena’s younger brother had walked into the kitchen and caught the two girls in the middle of passionately making out. As mortifyingly awkward as that first moment had been, the three of them ended up sharing pizza for dinner and having a genuinely good time.

“Hey, listen,” Deena said, making the great effort of pulling back from her girlfriend to stare at her seriously at an arm’s length. “Kate likes you already. You made it on her team.”

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged, “I’m probably just another one of the cheerleaders.”

“Wrong. You’re the prettiest one,” Deena stopped to drop a quick kiss on Sam’s cheek. “And Simon likes everyone! You’ll be fine.”

Sam sighed. “Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders and standing just a little bit taller.

“Yeah?” Deena looked at her, a smile quickly growing on her face.

“Yes,” Sam nodded eagerly this time, matching her girlfriend’s smile.

“God, you’re cute.” Deena chuckled.

In a second, Sam pretended to frown at her, but immediately afterward she took Deena’s face in her hands and pulled her in for a kiss. The two of them were still kissing, and so into it that they didn’t realize, the moment the door of the bathroom opened.

“You bitch,” Kate said, “Are you corrupting my cheerleaders?”

Deena laughed, discreetly stepping forward to give Sam a moment to compose herself, fix her skirt, lightly wipe her lips with the back of her hand. “Fuck you,” Deena grinned at one of her best friends, “and it’s just one cheerleader.”

Kate rolled her eyes, though she was smiling as well. “It was a matter of time,” she added, walking to stand in front of the mirror to check her hair. “Hey Sam.” She finally sent a smile to the other girl.

Simon hadn’t been too far behind. He strolled into the girl’s bathroom with as much confidence as Kate, but displayed in an entirely different, much more harmless way.

“Mademoiselle,” Simon greeted Sam, extending his arm and bowing his head. “An honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Hi,” Sam laughed.

“Be normal, you weirdo,” Deena slapped Simon’s back.

“Hey!” He laughed in response, taking a step back. “I’m sorry! We just wanted to make a good impression on the lovely lady that melted your frozen heart.”

The comment prompted Deena to hit him again, and again, starting a familiar routine of play fighting between the two best friends. Meanwhile, Sam watched with a fond smile, and Kate was almost satisfied with the perfect state of her ponytail.

“So,” Kate started, clearly talking to Sam, who immediately gave her her attention, “Simon and Josh are obviously too soft to say it but,” then she turned and stared at Sam directly in the eyes and said, “if you break her heart, I will fuck you up.”

“Oh,” Sam mumbled. Her lips were still parted in surprise. That was infinitely more intimidating than anything Simon or Josh could’ve ever said to her. After clearing her throat, Sam confidently answered, “I won’t.”

“Good,” Kate smiled. At first, it seemed that grin was part of the act of intimidation, but it soon grew genuine. The two of them turned to stare at the way Simon got out of Deena’s chokehold and proceeded to lift her off the floor in a bear’s hug. “By the way, I actually like you,” Kate said, “didn’t Deena tell you?”

Sam chuckled, “Sort of.”

“You’re part of the gang now,” Kate told her, with a playful wink. “The very worst Shadyside has to offer… and also me.”

“Very humble!” That came from Deena, who had managed to push Simon away, and the two of them were trying to fix their personal appearance.

Simon scoffed. “You’re delusional, dude. I’m the star of this town! Don’t you all love me as the school team’s witch?” There were several playful agreements and laughter from the small group. In the midst of it, Deena reached out to hold Sam’s hand. Which brought Simon to ask, “Hey, Sam, you’re joining us for movie night from now on, right?”

The girlfriends exchanged a look, and a smile, and Sam nodded. Then it was Kate’s turn to add, “It’s really fun. We switch houses each week, depending on which is the least chaotic at the time. Should we count your house in?”

The question had been completely innocent, but the tension that fell over Sam’s body at once was unmistakable.

“I, uh, I don’t know…” Sam mumbled, glancing at Deena beside her, who tightened her hold on her hand reassuringly. “My parents are just always fighting and… Uh, well, my mom… I think my mom suspects us…”

“Damn,” Simon frowned.

“Are you okay?” Kate asked kindly.

 But Sam couldn’t take her eyes off Deena. She was the only thing keeping her optimistic when her fears were eating her from the inside out. There were risks, sure, but they would be fine, wouldn’t they?

“Yeah,” Sam replied, her voice trembled a little, but then more confidently she added, “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” Deena agreed with her with a slow nod, hoping that was enough to convince the two of them.

#fear street #deena x sam #sameena #sam x deena #fear street fanfic #deena johnson #sam fraser #fear street fanfiction #my fic

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter six respect

You will regret underestimating me and everything that I am.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 9.9k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw themes series masterlist

You didn’t need to be saved. Being saved was for children, and you were not a child. The countless hours you spent getting knocked over, hit, punched, and thrown around were all in preparation for this. In the real world, tapping on your opponent’s arm didn’t stop their tightening chokehold. In the real world, the exercises didn’t end when your opponent had knocked you down or held a blade to your neck or had the gun to your head.  

You just died. That was it. One mistake, and your story would be over. You wondered if this was your mistake. Laying in soft cotton sheets, warmth all around you, with your eyes on his handsome face. He was so pretty like this.  

You reached over slowly, your hand finding the messy, ruffled curls on his forehead and pushing them back. You exposed his closed eyes. His cheek was pressed into the pillow, soft breaths coming from between his lips, and just the faintest line of sunlight hit his chocolate curls. You smiled, just a little bit, just a tad.  

Oh, baby girl…what have you done?

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You sat up in bed, reaching for it quickly, answering the phone call. You checked to make sure Tom was still asleep before putting the phone to your ear.  

“Hey, daddy,” you said softly. You kept playing with Tom’s hair. You couldn’t help yourself. His curls were so soft and bouncy, and without any product in them, it was almost comforting to touch them.  

“Hello, sweetheart. You haven’t called me. If it weren’t for De Luca filling me in, I would think something happened to you.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…caught up with work.”

“Work?”

“The jobs I do. For Tom.”

“Right. Your little…deal.”

You looked down. When your father heard about the agreement between you and Tom, he nearly got on a plane that minute. He had yelled, scolded, and spat at you for being young, incompetent, and selfish. You let him scream as much as he wanted to, and then you told him you weren’t leaving. You were furious. It had been months since you had spoken to him. You figured if he was calling you, he needed something from you.

“It’s not a little deal, daddy,” you rolled your eyes. “He promised me the information in exchange for a little work.”

“I know what you agreed upon, and you knew I wouldn’t like it. That’s why you waited until you signed your name before you told me. You knew even I would have to honor an agreement like that,” he said, clearly disapproving of your methods. You looked down. You wondered what De Luca had told him.  

Nothing about how I get things done probably.

“Well, no one on either side has died yet, so I would call it a success,” you shot back.

“And what will he do when he finds out that you know it’s him? Hmm? I got men in all corners, sweetheart, telling me Tom is running things down there. Does he think we’re that stupid, y/n?” He scoffed. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking. It occurred to you, but just a few hours ago, he had his lips on your neck and his fingers inside of you and a heat in his chest that told you otherwise.

He’s mine now.

“No. He thinks I’m distracted,” you lowered your voice, looking down at him. He hadn’t moved. “We’ve gotten…close.”

“Close? Close how?”

You slid out of bed slowly, opening the balcony doors beside the bed. You stepped out, looking out as the sun rose above the horizon. It was barely going to be morning. It was sort of peaceful outside, watching it come up.  

“We’re close, daddy. How close do you think? You’re not…you’re not stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You wondered if something just distracted him or if he was thinking of Tom Holland touching his daughter. You figured he would be more upset about Tom touching something that he thought belonged to him than you being with dangerous men.

“If you’re that close, why don’t you just kill him?” He asked, in a voice so calm that it should’ve scared you, but you just stared out at the lake behind the house. You blinked for a moment. That question was valid, but the thought never occurred to you. Killing Tom would’ve been messy, and nothing good would have come of it. If your father had taught you anything, it was to not make a mess when you didn’t have something to clean it up with.

“Because I don’t have what I want yet,” you said softly. “For all it’s worth. You know…you and mom were pushed out of Manhattan a long time ago, and you never even got the chance to fight for it. Wouldn’t it be nice to…get it back?”

Your father was quiet for a moment. You knew you would hit a nerve, talking in that sweet voice about New York City. Your father didn’t care for the city that much, but New York was a sweet spot for resources, money, and property. It spoke a language that your father understood more than anything: power.  

“Your mother and I…we loved the city,” he said gently. “And it pained me to take her away from her home. You know, that’s where you were born.”

You smiled a bit.

“I know,” you looked down at your nails, picking at some of the polish. “I’m going to make it right, daddy. I promise. I-I…I know what I need to do.”

“y/n…you know there’s only one way to get those kinds of things in our world,” your father said lowly, cautiously. “And if you go through with this, it won’t be easy. You’ve been playing a part, baby, but if you do this, there’s no going back. Even if all goes well, after Tom is gone, you won’t be allowed to take on another lover, you understand that, don’t you? That’s how it works with people like us. And not to mention you’ll have to pretend all the way to the end. Live a lie. That’s not the kind of life I wanted for you.”

You felt tears in your eyes, barely. Your father was pretending to care, but you knew he wasn’t speaking those words because he loved you, he was telling you not to get more involved with Tom because then you wouldn’t be able to serve as his little pawn, his little princess. It only struck you at that moment that maybe your father hadn’t sent you to New York to prove everyone wrong, he sent you there to prove him right.  

Because if I fail, he’ll drag me back to Los Angeles by my hair. And he’ll never let me go.

“It’s the life that mom wanted for me,” you said weakly. “What do you think she was doing when you weren’t there, daddy? She did this so I could…so I could give it all to you. She knew you had your priorities in California, but I…I didn’t. And I don’t. Dad, if I…if I finish this, it’s not just Manhattan. It’s Brooklyn, Queens, the whole fucking thing, and London. Jesus, daddy, we’d run the whole goddamn thing.”

He chuckled a bit on the other end. You knew he would like that. It would buy you his love, even just for a little while.

“I guess I would need a princess on the other side running those things, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you squeezed the edge of the balcony.  

He doesn’t mean it. Stop fooling yourself. He knows. He knows.

“Y-You mean that, daddy?” You laughed a bit, breathless.

“Of course I do,” he said lowly. “y/n, all these years that I’ve looked the other way…you were right in front of me. My daughter, my star…my own flesh and blood. I love you, y/n.”

I hate you.

You heard the creak of the floorboards coming from inside, and you swallowed hard.  

“He’s coming,” you whispered into the phone, and you set the phone down, putting it on speaker.  

“So what will you have me do, y/n?” Your father’s voice was loud, but you pretended not to see Tom waiting by the door behind you. He was shirtless, just in his sweats, peeking out as he leaned against the doorway, listening intently. He wasn’t trying to hide, but you pretended not to notice him.  

“I love him, daddy,” you said softly, sincerely. “Even after all of this is over…after…I can’t leave. I’m in love with him.”

You’re not lying, are you?

Your father let out a sigh on the other end, and you waited. You wondered if your father believed that as the lie it was intended to be. You hoped he would.

“I will come to New York, y/n,” he took that as your cue. “And I will give him your hand. If that’s what you want.”

You smiled, “really? You’d do that for me?”

Tom straightened up a bit behind you, his brows furrowing. The thought of marrying you crossed his mind when he first met you, but after months of teasing and kisses and late nights, he never thought you were a woman he could tie down. He was trying to come up with a plan, something different, because you seemed so aloof and untamable.

Also because you care, you prick. You care about her.

“Anything for you, y/n,” your father said gently. “Love in this world is not common. When I found your mother and knew what I felt, I made sure I left with what I wanted. We don’t have many chances, and when we do have them, we must take them as they come.”

You didn’t love mom. You didn’t love her at all.

“When will you come?” You asked, putting your hair behind your ear. Tom watched you carefully, watching your profile. How you had a smile on your face, a blush on your cheeks. You looked hopeful almost.  

Sweet.

“Soon, sweetheart,” your father chuckled. “You realize that I’ll be negotiating with him…even if you’re to be married. If he loves you, he’ll give me something to have your hand.”

You laughed, but there was venom in your eyes, “yes, daddy. I promise not to get offended.”

You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone, and you jumped in feigned surprise as you felt two arms come around your waist, pulling you close. Tom’s warmth was all around you again, and you could feel his heavy breaths as he pressed you into his chest.  

“y/n,” he murmured, and you put your hands over his.

“T-Tommy, I…How…How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he chuckled a bit, kissing your bare shoulder. “Enough to know that you want your father to come to New York and negotiate the terms of our marriage.”

His voice didn’t sound angry, but he wasn’t pleased.  

“Y-You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you whispered, and he turned you around to face him. Your eyes met, and his were so dark, so suspicious.  

“You come to New York, get cozy with an Englishman, and now you think you’re ready to marry me?” Tom raised a brow, and you looked away. You wanted him to think he was embarrassing you, that he held something over you.

“Before my father does it for me…yeah,” you swallowed. Part of it was the truth. Even if you never came to New York, you knew you were going to have to do this eventually. You had to find someone before your father did. You weren’t afraid of many things, but at home, you were always on edge. If you weren’t prepared to take things into your own hands, you were always afraid your father would do it for you. The only thing you could truly be afraid of was someone else deciding on you for you.

I can never escape this world, but I still want to live in it, not die in it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know how it works for people like us, Tom, don’t…don’t pretend,” you pushed away from him a bit. “Daughters are pawns, not gifts. If I didn’t choose, he’d choose for me.”

“It’s not the bloody eighteenth century, darling, your father wouldn’t arrange your marriage.”

“You say that, but if I don’t let him do this, if I don’t convince him, then…then I’m going to wake up one day, he’s going to put a gun to my head, and he’s going to walk me into a room with a man I don’t know, and he’s going to marry me off like a goddamn animal. So yeah. Maybe it’s not the eighteenth century, Tom, but my daddy’s a little old-fashioned. And he does business that way,” you snapped. “I’ve got cousins forced halfway across the world to marry men they don’t know to mend bridges my father burned himself.”

You came close to him, putting a hand on his chest. Tom felt a prideful swell in his heart as you touched him. He could see it in your eyes. You needed something from him, and you could only get it from him. He thought about a day like this many times before, but he didn’t realize how much his heart ache when you were finally asking him for something, anything.

“Tom,” you looked up at him. “I know we’ve only known each other for…six months. And I know…things haven’t been…”

Tom put his hand to the back of your neck, holding you to his chest. There was still guilt inside of him, still images in his head of you covered in blood, images that Harrison and Mariposa had helped create. They did it purposefully. They wanted Tom to know, they wanted Tom to remember, and it worked because there was regret inside of him, and it was drilling into him like a slow-moving bullet that he couldn’t stop.

“I know, y/n. I know.”

“I really need you to do this for me, Tommy,” you said softly, your voice breaking a bit. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know…I know maybe you pictured someone different, but I really need you.”

I really need you.

“You realize what you’re asking of me, don’t you?” He ran his fingers through your hair. Despite his words, his touch was soothing, and you craved more. “Marriage?” Tom scoffed a bit. “I am not a man that gets married, darling. I’m all the way at the top. If I’m married, it’s for life.”

Tom wanted it to seem like he didn’t need you like you needed him, but as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

You let go of him, pacing in the bedroom slowly. Tom sat down on the bed, lighting himself a cigarette to pass the time. You hated it when he smoked. You hated smoking. You had picked it up because of him, and now you wished all you had done was leave them out for the rats.  

“What do you think I am, Tom? When my father’s gone? Who do you think he’s going to give everything to?” You shook your head. “He’s going to give it to me.”

Tom let out a breath through his nose. He raised a brow. “You’re sure of that?”

You played with your fingers, brushing your hair back. “My father’s too proud to give it to anyone else. He doesn’t have any other children. It’s just…it’s just me. I’m all he’s got.”

“Yes, but we don’t give our businesses to women who don’t know how to run it,” Tom informed you. You turned around quickly, narrowing your eyes at him. “y/n, don’t look at me like that. You’re a bloody good woman, and you know how to get the job done. But you don’t command men, you don’t…you don’t organize meetings, you don’t…you don’t deal with suppliers and distributors and the accounts. You don’t know. It isn’t a question of your ability or your character, it’s just a statement about your experience.”

Tom did mean that. He had reservations about marriage from the beginning. He was so set on it at first, so convinced that he could snatch it right up when he first met you. Then, he learned better. Rumors had it that your father and you weren’t on the best of terms, and that was enough to keep Tom at bay. He had yet to see you do much more than provide intel and break a few bones. He was worried that perhaps you were not the heiress the world thought you to be, and for that, he had to be cautious. Harrison was adamant about such things.

All the more reason to put a bullet in your head. What’s new? Men that know nothing about what you can do? Nothing’s new. Nothing’s changed. You went from one man who underestimated you to another. They will never learn. They will never respect you for what you are.

You came over to the bed and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbing it out. You brushed out your hair a bit before going for the door.

You have to take it, from both of them. You have to take it, and you can’t say sorry when you have to step on both of them like the bugs that they are. They are shit under your shoes. You are better than them.

“The smoke is getting to your head, Tom,” you said finally. “You’re talking out of your ass now.”

“Where are you going?” He demanded as you opened the door.

“Away from you.”

You shut the bedroom door behind you and padded down the hall towards the staircase. You put your hand on the railing and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. Two boys sat there at the counter, cups of hot coffee between their hands and their suit jackets thrown over the back of the living room couch. They had pretty dark curls just like Tom. You had seen them at your initiation and occasionally around Tom’s office, but you had never said a word to them.

“Good morning, lovey,” one of them said to you. You grabbed a mug and started to fill it with some of the coffee they brewed. It smelled strong, but you needed it, desperately.

“Late night? Or early morning?” You asked, turning to face them. They both smiled at you a bit, one cockier than the other, and you smiled a bit right back. Tom’s family seemed the same, more or less. Cocky, egocentric, arrogant boys that loved to get in trouble.  

“Late night,” he replied. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Allow me. Harry.”

The other outstretched his hand, “Sam.”

You came forward and shook both of their hands, “y/n.”

At the sound of your name, they both smiled wider, sinister smiles, almost catlike. They knew you, and they knew you well.  

“Oh, we know who you are,” Harry snickered a bit. “Tom doesn’t shut up about ya.”

Your smile faded a bit, and you rolled your eyes, “I’m sure,” you muttered. “Your prick of a brother needs me, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“Needs you?”

“All the intel you’ve gotten on the Russians still running around Hell’s Kitchen? All from me,” you shrugged. “The only reason your brother doesn’t have Manhattan up in flames is because of me.”

“We just heard Viktor’s dead,” Sam frowned a bit. “I could only assume—”

“That was me, too,” you took a sip of coffee, staring out a bit distantly. “I…last night, I…”

It struck the twins at that moment that you were Tom’s little weapon. They knew Tom was doing something, but the news was always discreet, quiet, and never in the papers. Of course it had to be a woman doing things for him.

They’re the only ones smart enough to keep their mouths shut and their guns down.

“Jesus,” Harry shook his head. “All that blood. That was Viktor?”

Your gaze fell to the floor, and you swallowed. Thinking about how not even twelve hours before, you were sitting in a luxury bathroom surrounded by broken glass, flashing lights, and a dead man.

“Yeah,” is all you could say. Sam and Harry glanced at each other before looking back at you. Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. Tom had a good woman doing the dirty work, and he knew that Tom refused to give anyone but himself any credit. Tom was selfish like that, thinking he was the only person that deserved respect. It was evident to Harry that you had yet to get any from him, at least not willingly.

Harry pulled out a notebook from his pocket and a sleek Montblanc pen, scribbling on a page before ripping it out. He slid it across the counter to you, where his name and a few scrambled numbers were written across it. Sam snatched the pen and leaned over, scribbling his own digits onto it.

“You ever need somethin’, love,” Harry said lowly, “and our prick of a brother doesn’t answer, you call these numbers.”

You smiled just a little bit, staring down at the crumpled paper in your hands. The writing was messy, but the numbers meant something. They respected you enough to give you a direct line to them if you needed help, if you needed family. They had seen you draw blood, and somehow they were the only Hollands in the household to remember that fact.

You folded up the paper, putting it in your pocket. “Thanks.”

“Harry’s got balls,” Sam shrugged, leaning back, and Harry nudged his brother.

“Sam does the numbers,” he informed you. You looked between the both of them.

“You work for Tom?”

“Work with Tom, don’t insult us like that,” Harry snickered, and you laughed a bit. They were charming, you had to give them that, and their banter was distracting you from the boiling hatred for Tom sitting in your chest.

“Although lately it seems as if we don’t,” Sam shrugged. “It sounds like all of our business is somehow yours now.”

There was something bitter in his voice. Like he was searching for answers and couldn’t find them, and now that he had, he was disappointed with the result.  

You tilted your head to the side, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Tom takes the Russian business delicately,” Harry chimed in. “He doesn’t trust anyone but us to take care of it. Because if he can’t control them, we’re vulnerable to the groups the city still has.”

“But it sounds like Tom’s been giving you those orders,” Sam looked down at his coffee. “We’ve been a bit…bored lately.”

Bored. You mean your killing count hasn’t gone up. Lovely.

You put the coffee down, biting your lip. “Has he been…asking you to look into things in Brooklyn?”

“Aye,” Harry nodded his head. “Brooklyn, Queens, the likes. Been around those parts often lately. Been chasing some fuckin’ ghost, and we come up empty-handed every bloody time.”

You frowned, looking away for a moment. Tom was redirecting his own people to figure out things in Brooklyn. It meant he was scrabbling, surely. Tom had no idea what was going on, that much was clear. He kept his face calm, but you wondered how anxious he was underneath thick skin.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t Tom. He has his brothers playing detective while you hold up Manhattan, and he’s spreading his men out because he doesn’t know what’s going on, does he?

You let out a breath, picking up the coffee mug. You wondered how such a small conversation with his brothers could reveal so much vulnerability underneath Tom’s kingdom.  

“It was nice to meet you both,” you said softly, going back upstairs.

If Tom didn’t take the money, who did?

Who’s hiding from me?

You held your drink up in hand, scrunching your nose as you watched Mariposa flick the quarter in her hand. Everyone at the table sat up a bit, anxious, and you cheered as the quarter fell right into shot glass, a huge smile coming over her face as she brushed her curls out of the way.

“Salud, cabrones,” Mariposa giggled, and all the boys at the table grumbled as they tipped their heads back, downing their shots. You nudged each other as the sounds of glasses slamming onto the table sounded, and Harrison threw an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple, a drunk smile on his face.

“How are you two so bloody good at this?” Sam coughed, punching his chest a bit. The alcohol burned going down his throat, but it felt good. You were a bit drunk, the twins were a bit drunk, and Mariposa and Harrison were looking at each other like nothing else existed. You swallowed as you watched them smile at one another. Your hand was empty now, and you wondered why Tom wasn’t there to fill it.

It was hard now, to draw the line between playing an act and really feeling something. Moments like these, spending time with people you genuinely cared about, you wished he was here. You had grown used to it. Surrounding yourself with people that had your back, and after the other night, you were certain Harrison had yours.  

You’ve earned their respect, but when it all comes crashing down, who will be beside you?

“What do you think we did when we were eighteen in New York City?” Mariposa laughed. “All we did was go to parties and polish up our skills.”

Everyone laughed, and you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You looked around a bit for Tom. He was stuck in the back, in a meeting, but he assured you all he was alright and ushered you all to stay in the back and relax. You all had, playing drinking games and telling stories, and the boys were relieved to finally have women to impress, even though Harrison would glare if the twins stared too long at Mariposa.  

The twins had laughed about Tom’s first days in the business, even shown you a few pictures of Tom’s cheeky smile and array of flashy jewelry. Harrison was no better. They had no idea what to spend their newfound riches on, and it was nice to smile at what they used to be. Tom didn’t have those eyes anymore, or that smile. You knew what had done that to him. Blood, death, and sleepless nights had turned those eyes into nothing but dark coal, and there was nothing that could bring them back to their sweet colors. Tom had notches on his belt, death on his hands, and he never knew whether the blood on his clothes was that of others or his own.  

Tom was beaten and molded into what he was now. A man, yes, not a boy anymore, but he was a man molded out of experience, secrets, and lawlessness. Maybe that was why you loved him so much, as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise.

Two sides of the same coin. One and the same. We are nothing but reflections of each other.

“Oi, y/n, you got all doe-eyed looking for my shithead brother,” Harry pointed out, and you looked back at all of them. You shook your head, coming out of your daze.  

“No, I’m just…”

Everyone laughed and made a few whooping noises, and Mariposa hit Harrison in the chest for whistling. You slid out of the booth, nodding at them. Maybe you were doe-eyed looking for Tom. But ever since you killed someone for him, you couldn’t stop trying to find him in places where he wasn’t. New York had changed you in the last six months, so much so that you were looking for comfort because you had touched it, felt it, tasted it, and you ached for it. Your father had never lent you a shoulder or kissed your tears away, but Tom had.

And I’m a mess for it.

“I’ll go get another round.”

“And take a lap looking for my mate?” Harrison raised a brow. Harrison could see the longing in your eyes, in your posture. You were fiddling with your fingers and shifting on your feet. “y/n, if he was worried, he would’ve said to look out for him, or even asked us to be in that room.”  

“I know,” you smiled a bit. “I just…”

Mariposa shushed them all, slamming her hand on the table. “y/n, go get your man. We’re bonding here, shouldn’t he be here?”

You pushed the curtain aside as you came out of the back room, and you looked around the club, squinting your eyes to see through the changing lights. You made your way to the bar, tapping on it as you ordered more drinks for the table.  

“…yeah, Tom’s girl is here,” you heard a voice say. Your head turned a bit as you craned your neck to listen. You recognized the voice.

“We don’t know what the boss is up to, we have no idea what she is.”

“Are you kidding me? She does so much shit for Tom, she might as well be.”

“She’s an asset, that’s all. He saw someone who could get shit done. Doesn’t mean they’re together.”

“Are you serious? A woman like that? No way Mr. Holland isn’t fucking her. Jesus, she walks into the office, and I’m fucking floored every time.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, laughing to yourself. Tom’s lackeys were always nice to you, always good to you, but they were such predictable men. You asked for a scotch, taking the single glass and going towards the back again. You kept walking though, to the door with two lackeys on either side. You moved to go in, but one of them stopped you.

“Mr. Holland asked not to be disturbed,” he said to you, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Michael, I think we’ve been over this. Have some respect or I’ll have you on your ass if you speak to me like that again,” you snapped, and he closed his mouth as you put your hand on the door and opened it. Tom was sitting with a few men, all around a makeshift poker table. The room was filled with smoke leaking from the cigars and cigarettes on the table, and it stunk like ash and old cardboard and dry liquor. There were five men besides Tom sitting around the table, all glittering with blood money and grinning with sinister smiles. Tom was the only one with a straight face, and he was the only one sitting at the table under 30 years old.

“Ahhhh, Mr. Holland, is this the wonder woman we’ve all been hearing about?”

Tom turned his head to look towards the door where you stood, holding his drink in one hand. Your eyes darkened a bit, and you came towards him, your heels the only sound echoing through.

“Wonder woman?” You questioned, laughing a bit. “Hardly.”

“My sources tell me a Russian man is dead by your hands.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have put his where they didn’t belong,” you said firmly, setting down Tom’s drink in front of him. He took it from you, taking a sip of it, his nose twitching a bit. You could tell he wasn’t happy in the slightest for interrupting his big bad meeting.

“My, my,” some of the men around the table chuckled. “I’m going to need to get me one of those, gentlemen.”

There was laughter around the room, and you rolled your eyes. Tom made eye contact with you, and he shook his head just enough, his eyes begging you to leave. You wouldn’t leave. There was something you wanted from Tom, and you were going to get it. Tom could lie to you all he wanted, he could paint a story and show it to you all day every day, but he was just like your father. You had to choose before he chose for you.

Shit under your shoes, that’s all they are. Use them, abuse them, lose them.

“You need to get yourself a fiancé?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “I thought you already had a wife, Mr. Cunningham.”

The room quieted a bit, and Tom tilted his head to the side a bit, his nostrils flaring just a bit. You could see his knuckles whitening as he tightened the grip on his glass of liquor.

I am yours, and you are mine.

“Pardon me? Fiancé?”

You smiled, coming towards the table, kicking Tom’s chair out a bit before taking a seat in his lap. You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed it, taking one of his diamond bands off his fingers and slipping it onto your own. You held your hand out as the diamonds glittered in the low light.

Suits me.

“Yes, we haven’t really…told anyone yet,” you said with a laugh, looking back at Tom. “But there’s long been tensions between my father and Tom’s own family…” You reached over and touched a few of his curls, “I guess we’re just so lucky that we fell for each other.”

Tom gripped your wrist tightly, squeezing it so hard you thought he might break something. You yanked your hand out of his grip, turning back to the crowd.  

“Tom…you choose well, don’t you? A princess that’s to become a queen? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom let out a hard breath through his nose, “aye,” he licked his lips a bit. “I only get the best, gentlemen, wouldn’t you say so?”

You leaned back a bit, whispering into his ear angrily. You hated when he spoke like you weren’t in the room.

“Really? You’re going to pull that shit right here, Tom?”

He chuckled, kissing under your ear. “That’s right, love. You want to be mine, eh? You want to play the part? Then you’re going to have to get used to things around here, and how I run them. And you’re not in charge.”

Bite me.

“I should shoot you right here,” you snapped, and he put a hand on your thigh, squeezing hard. His fingers stroked delicately, rubbing in slow circles. You leaned your head back against his shoulder a bit, sighing hard. It felt good, and you adored how he touched you, but now was not the time, and definitely not when his intentions were to shut you up.

“Say that again, darling…”

“Are you seriously getting off on this?”

He grinned wickedly, his eyes alight, and you dug your stiletto heel into his foot, making him jump a bit. He hid his face in your hair, letting out a quiet, “God, fuck!”

You hummed a bit, stroking the back of his neck, tugging at the hairs there to pull him close to you.

“I’m getting really sick and tired of you, Tom, reeling me in just to throw me back out,” you hissed in his ear. He grunted a bit, his breath heavy, and you nibbled along his earlobe. “I don’t how much longer I have to prove myself to you. I shouldn’t have to. If there’s anyone on this Godforsaken planet worthy of being your wife, it’s me, Tom, and you damn well know it.”

“y/n—”

You turned back to the men at the table, picking up Tom’s cards, face down in front of you two. You took a peek at them, a small smile growing on your face.  

“What are we playing then, boys?” You asked in a soft, sultry tone. Tom gritted his teeth a bit, but he put an arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he looked over your shoulder. “What are we betting on?”

“Poker, with just the money, sweetheart,” and you smiled wider when you felt Tom’s grip tighten on you, the hard breath he let out. There were eyes on you, hungry, beady, grown eyes that Tom suddenly hated more than anything else in this world. It was even more insulting that they thought you were his fiancé, and they had the nerve to stare at you like so.

“How about we make it…a bit better?” You asked, looking around at them. You put the cards down, taking your leather jacket off tossing it, leaning over on the table, letting the low neckline of your dress do most of the talking. Tom lowered his hand on your waist, to the curve of your back, and you let him, because you loved the way he was touching you. “Make it more…exciting?”

They chuckled, staring at you, drooling, like dogs seeing a treat.

All the same, all of them. Shit under your shoes.

“What did you have in mind, doll?”

You shrugged, “My distributors in Brooklyn on the table, and a fourth of the dock on the Hudson from my future husband.”

You bit back the gasp as Tom suddenly had a death grip on you, so hard you knew his fingertips might leave you with bruises. You pursed your lips tight, trying to keep the smile on your face.

Trust me, Tommy.

“y/n—”

“What do you say, boys? Last betting round? Show me what you got,” you smiled at them.  

“20% of my next shipment.”

“Fuck it, how about just cash, eh?”

“Five months of no interest.”

You giggled, winking, “Oh, you boys like your odds, don’t you?”

The cards went down, and the room went up in cackles and sharp laughter. You spread Tom’s hand out, a beautiful, perfect royal flush.

“Jesus, fuck, Holland!”

“God, your woman is mad.”

“Fuck, I’m out 30,000, I suppose.”

You sat back in Tom’s lap, crossing one leg over the other. “You guys are terrible at reading my poker face,” you teased, and Tom leaned forward, letting out a breath against your ear. You closed your eyes for a moment as he pulled your back tight up against his chest, holding you deathly close to him.

“Is this how you want to do things now? Go over my bloody head?” He growled, and you turned your head, giving his jaw a kiss.

“No, baby,” you whispered. “But when you treat me like just another one of your men, you shouldn’t be surprised when I exceed your expectations. And win things for you. And make your business a whole lot more lucrative. All I did was flash my lingerie, Tommy, and they gave me millions for nothing. You not wanting to negotiate a marriage with me is just plain stupid. So you either do business with me, or I’ll take it elsewhere. And I don’t care if Brooklyn falls.”

He clenched his jaw, kissing between your shoulder blades gently as he looked away from you. The thought of you leaving irked him to no end. The thought of someone else getting to have your special skills, even someone like your father, bothered him. Tom didn’t want you working for anyone else, beside anyone else, for anyone else. You never were able to do things like things before, and Tom had given you a chance, and he felt like he was entitled to everything you were and more.  

She’s mine.

You both stood up to bid Tom’s partners farewell, and they thanked you with kisses to your knuckles. You could tell some of them were dying to touch you, but Tom was quick wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You looked up at him when the door shut behind them.

“Was that to show chivalry isn’t dead or because you actually care about me?”

He pulled away from you, kicking the poker table to the side. Some of the chips clattered onto the floor, and you sighed, already feeling what was coming. Tom had yet to realize who he was talking to.

“You know, y/n, I didn’t think you had the goddamn balls to undermine me like that,” Tom snapped, grabbing the glass and throwing it at the wall. You didn’t even flinch as it shattered. You crossed your arms over your chest. “You do a lot of things that fucking piss me off, but business?! Are you fucking serious?!”

“What did I say about the anger, Tom? What have we talked about?!”

“Goddammit, y/n, you listen to me before I—!”

“Before you what?! Hit me? Put your hands on me? Toss me out of here like one of your men?” You interrupted him. He came towards you, backing you up until you hit the wall, and you glared up at him. “Tom, you don’t want to do this. I don’t care what I feel for you, you put your fucking hands on me, and you’ll regret it.”

“I’ll put whatever I want on you,” Tom growled, and you gripped his chin, holding it tight between your fingers.  

“Shut your mouth and listen to me, Tom, have some fucking respect,” you spat. “You touch me because I allow you to, not the other way around. I don’t care if you’re my boyfriend, my lover, my husband, my anything. You touch me, and I swear to God, I’ll put your ass on this floor and let your men watch me beat you to shit—”

You gasped as he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing as he shoved you against the wall. You reached over and used your nails to scratch his face, and when he loosened his grip, you brought your knee up and hit him right in the stomach. You both released each other, you panting against the wall and him leaning over in pain, groaning, and just as you were about to hit him again, he pushed you up against the wall again, pinning your arms on either side of your head.

“Tom! Jesus, fuck, listen to me for one second!” You breathed, trying to break out of his grip. Neither of you were using your full strength. Neither of you really wanted to hurt the other. “Yeah. I did something in front of your partners, I teased, but you just won’t listen to me!”

“What the fuck do you have to say that makes this any better?!”

You leaned forward and caught him in a hot kiss. He dropped your arms from beside your head, circling his around your waist, and you slid your arms up and around his neck, letting out soft, breathy moans as you kissed against the wall.

Your head hit the wall hard as he pressed you up against it, and the kisses grew warmer, hotter, deeper by the second. Tom had had his hands on you for so long now, and you didn’t shy away from it any longer. You couldn’t.  

He’s touching me, and I like it, and I’m selfish. I don’t want to let go.

“I wanna,” you panted, your lips still pressed to his, “I wanna build something with you, Tommy.”

“Yeah? Build what?”

Tom’s voice was breathy, and his eyes were closed, and you could tell all he wanted to do was keep kissing, keep breathing each other in. The constant teasing, the way you had stood up to him all night, it was getting to him, and although he pretended he despised it, all he could do was admire the hell out of you.

The only woman worthy of being a Holland.

“I want it all,” you moaned between kisses. “I want power…and money…and I want people under me, doing the things I tell them to do,” you gasped as Tom picked you up off your feet, pressing you against the wall as your legs went around his middle, “a-and I want you.”

He breathed hard as he pulled away a bit, his forehead against yours. You brushed your knuckles along his cheek, licking your lips. His skin felt warm and soft under your touch, and you adored the heaving breaths he was taking. He felt so alive under your palms, he felt so full of fire, and although you were supposed to be lighting that fire yourself, you couldn’t help but drink it in, too.  

“I want all of it,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to climb and climb and climb, and I don’t want to stop climbing until I’m dead, Tommy.”

I never want to stop.

You pulled back enough, and Tom could see your glistening eyes, so big and wide, looking down at him. Your eyes were watering a bit, and you sniffled. You were so hungry with the feeling, and you knew Tom was the only man that could ever understand what was building inside of you.  

More, more, more.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, Tom,” you shook your head. “B-Because the truth is…I-I’m scared to do it with anyone else. And despite how much we fight and bicker and argue, there hasn’t been one moment with you that I haven’t felt…safe o-or unloved. I’m scared that if I don’t snatch you up, Tommy, that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I’m…I’m so afraid of being alone.”

Tom swallowed hard, and you leaned your forehead against his again. You couldn’t tell what part of your words were a lie or the truth. You couldn’t decipher what was between the lines, but you didn’t care. It was spilling from you, and you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.  

There’s love in your voice.

“You’d never hurt me,” you whispered, brushing through his curls. “You’d never push me aside. If that was how you felt, you would’ve done it tonight, and you didn’t.”

He set you down gently onto your feet, but he kept you pressed to the wall as he kissed you again. Head tipped back, fingers in your hair, and a heat between your mouths that neither of you could bear to break. Tom Holland was reeling you in all over again, and you were letting him.

God, what have I done?

“Tell me you want it,” you groaned between kisses, holding onto him. Your touch was warm, and you couldn’t bear to let go of him.

“I want it,” Tom said lowly. You smiled, his kisses getting softer.

“Tell me you want money, Tommy,” you breathed, and he slid his hand down your side, gripping your ass tightly. It felt possessive, the way he touched you, but you held onto him tighter, gritting your teeth.

“I want money,” he repeated, and you moaned as he squeezed your backside soothingly.

“Tell me you want power,” you cooed, and he tilted his head to the side, licking over your bottom lip. You leaned forward just a bit, stealing a kiss, and he chuckled darkly, adoring the sounds you made as he touched you.  

More, more, more, all I want is more.

“I want power,” he grunted, hiking up your dress to touch. You stopped him, taking that hand and dragging it up your side and between your breasts, letting his fingers wrap around your throat as you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking and licking it gently.

Such a fucking tease.

“Tell me you want the world,” you purred, and he nodded, letting his thumb slip back into your mouth as you sucked on it, your eyes lidded as you looked up at him. All you could think about was him holding you like this over his desk, making you feel more alive than ever.  

Making me feel something rather than the nothingness I always feel. Making me feel anything but completely, utterly empty.

“I want the world, darling,” Tom said darkly, and you let his finger go, standing up on your toes to reach his ear. You curled your fingers around the nape of his neck, kissing the skin, licking the shell of his ear. He grunted a bit at that, closing his eyes.

“I can give the world to you, Tommy,” you whispered, leaving soft, sweet butterfly kisses from the underside of his ear down to his jaw, then back up again to kiss his lips chastely. “I can take it, wrap it up in a bow, and give it to you. All you have to do is let me in. Give me the most precious gifts you could ever give. A pretty ring, because I do have tastes, Tommy—”

“Of course,” he snickered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.  

Two sides of the same coin, one and the same, reflections of each other.

“Maybe an island or two, to keep me occupied,” you added, and he laughed a bit. “And…”

“And?”

Your eyes met, and you touched his chin.

“And your name,” you said softly. His lips twitched for a moment, and you leaned forward, kissing them so softly, so tenderly. “I want your name.”

“I want the world, and you want my name?” Tom asked, raising a brow. You gripped the lapels of his suit jacket in both hands, bringing him even closer, as close as you could.

“I want your name,” you said, leaning in close. “And everything that comes with it.”

He kissed your lips gently, smirking a bit. You put your hands on both of his cheeks, letting it deepen. Moments like this made you forget why you ever came to New York in the first place. It made you forget that you came here with a proposition, targeting Tom and all he was worth, to take everything from him. Kissing him, touching him, letting his scent intoxicate you, it was consuming you like fire, and you just wanted to hold onto him forever.  

I want your name, and I want it forever.

You pulled back for a moment and looked into his dark, beautiful eyes, and you were stricken when something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Guilt.  

Tom was lying, you were lying, but in this moment, here, you knew whatever was silent between you was the truth. You needed Tom, and Tom needed you, and when everything would come crashing down and burning, there was something inside of you that didn’t care about what came after. You didn’t care about anything except the hope that maybe, just maybe, Tom would forgive you.

Before Tom could answer, the door opened slightly, and Harrison poked his head through. Tom didn’t move away from you, still holding onto you, and Harrison let out a breath.

“Ah…sorry to interrupt, but…the phone, it’s for you, mate,” Harrison held out his hand, Tom’s cell phone in it. Tom took it from him, frowning a bit. You looked at the number displayed, and you frowned.

“That’s my dad,” you said softly. You scoffed a bit, and before Tom could put the phone to his ear, you grabbed it, putting it on speaker, gesturing to Tom for him to say something.

“Aye, this is Tom,” he said finally, and Harrison shut the door again.  

“Thomas…what a pleasure to finally be speaking to you.”

Your father’s voice was dark, more sinister than you’ve ever heard it sound before. Tom slid his hand up to your waist, squeezing a bit absentmindedly.  

“Hello, Mr. y/l/n. What can I do for you?” Tom asked blankly, keeping his voice level. You put your head on Tom’s chest, not knowing how to feel. Your father didn’t say anything to you about speaking to Tom, he never warned you about any of this.

“Thomas, in a few hours, I’ll be landing at JFK,” your father explained, and you and Tom met eyes. “I have business in New York, and you have business in New York. There’s matters that we need to discuss.”

“Mmm…you know, I’m not certain how things are done in California, Mr. y/l/n, but here in the city, we aren’t particularly friendly with those in other territories,” Tom informed him, his voice lowering in tone. “And I’m a busy man. What makes you think I have time for you, eh?”

You raised a brow, looking at Tom, confused, but he just winked down at you.

“Because of my daughter,” your father said finally. “My daughter, who works for you, Mr. Holland. Word gets around. You weren’t thinking of proposing without asking for my permission, were you?”

“Mmm…is that how we’re doing this?” Tom asked. “I need your permission to do things, do I?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Tom put a finger to your lips.

“When it comes to what’s mine? Yeah, you do,” your father said simply. “You want my daughter, Mr. Holland? Despite whatever you think, despite whatever she may have done for you, she’s still mine. And she answers to me. So don’t get fucking smart with me, Thomas. I don’t care how many times she’s sucked your cock.”

You pulled off of Tom quickly, blinking.  

“That deal she made with you, Thomas? We both know it wasn’t hers to make, so you can stop throwing her a bone. There are things that I want, and there are things that you want, and I’m sure we can come up with something agreeable, can’t we? If it is that you truly want her hand and not that you’ve been degrading her the entire time she’s been there.”

You couldn’t even speak. You were so disgusted by everything coming from your father’s mouth, and you put a hand over your face, feeling sick to your stomach.  

“When is it that you want to meet, then?” Tom asked.

“Saturday evening. Send a car, will you?”

“Mmm. Of course,” Tom’s voice was bitter. “Have a goodnight.”

He hung up, and Tom immediately looked away from you when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you…why didn’t you say something?” You asked weakly, shaking your head. “Did you not…hear a single fucking word that came out of his mouth? Why didn’t you say something?”

“y/n, I’m not going to argue with your father over the phone about—”

“Oh, my God,” you burst out laughing, coming out sharp and pained, stepping back from him. “What is wrong with you? You think that’s true? Is that what you want people to believe? That I’m just some complacent piece of ass for you to have on your arm?”

“y/n, that’s not it,” Tom shook his head, coming close, and you pushed his hands off of you.

“No, Tom, I’ve…is that what you really think about me? Is that what you want people to think when they think of me?” You asked painfully. “That I…that I do jobs for you that involve me on my knees for you? That I’m some kind of whore that you tend to keep around?”

“No, y/n, and you know that,” Tom argued.

“Then why can’t you say it?” You breathed. “Why is it that when other people are in the room, it’s as if suddenly I don’t matter? I…I killed someone for you, Tommy. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Your voice cracked at the end, and Tom reached forward, cupping your cheek, bringing you close.

“I can’t stand the things people say about you, love,” he murmured. “I wanted to murder every man that was in this room, because they couldn’t stop looking at you like a piece of bloody meat, and if they weren’t my partners, y/n, I would’ve bashed their fuckin’ heads in for looking at you like that. And your father? Saying that shit? It made me sick, y/n. But I had to know.”

“Know what?” You asked.

“I had to know what your father thought. Because clearly he’s been lying to you,” Tom scoffed. “You’ve been his liaison to me, but everything he’s said to you so far means nothing. Your father’s been lying to you, and honestly, darling, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as soon as your father miraculously had faith in you, your first assignment was to come to New York and look for me.”

You chewed on your fingernail, pulling away from him as you paced slowly around the room.

“So what do we do?” You asked, coming back to him. Tom cupped your cheeks, bringing you close enough for your foreheads to touch.

“You wanna be my wife, yeah?” He muttered against your lips. “You wanna do business with me? You wanna take on the fucking world, is that it?”

“Yes, Tommy,” you breathed, and he moved one hand lower to grasp your chin tightly between his fingers.

“You’ve got to promise me something, y/n,” he whispered, and you nodded, your noses touching, your breath warm against one another’s. He tangled his other hand into your hair, gripping it tight. “You’re my ride or die, then, yeah? I don’t fucking care what it’s about. Your father, Mariposa, Harrison, your bloody dog, I don’t fucking care. It’s me and you, and me and you always, and nothing comes between that, you hear me, eh?”

There’s love in there. Why can’t you hear it?

You opened your eyes, looking up into his.

“I hear you,” you said breathlessly, and you adored how he grabbed your face and kissed you. “Loyalty. That’s what…that’s what you want.”

Mine, mine, mine.

“Aye,” Tom nodded. “Your father doesn’t give two shits about you, y/n. We’ve got to bleed him dry—”

“Tom—” You let out a sob, shaking your head, and he held your face to his tighter, closer.

“We’ve got to bleed him dry,” Tom growled. “Because he will never understand what you are, y/n. And he will never believe in you. You think men like that change their minds suddenly, darling? Fuck, I could’ve killed you the day you got here, y/n, and he knew that. I let you do things on your own because I know you can take care of yourself, but your father doesn’t understand, and he still lets you, because to him, he doesn’t care whether you live or die in this business.”

“Tommy, that’s not true,” you whimpered, “h-he loves me, he—”

“He doesn’t!” Tom snapped. “Get that through your head, y/n! That man doesn’t love you, and he’s never going to give you what you want. It’s gotta be us, love. It’s gotta be you and I, and you and I only. For once in your life, y/n, choose yourself.”

You and Tom hugged tightly, holding onto each other, your cries muffled in his chest as he held you as close to him as he could.  

“I know, baby,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you. I promise. I’ve got you now, yeah?”

What have I done?

It wasn’t long before you were sitting in his leather chair behind his desk, Tom’s suit jacket draped over you as he went to go get something stronger, something to calm your nerves. You had dried tears on your cheeks, and you looked a mess. Your phone buzzed in your jacket pocket, and you picked up your leather jacket off the floor, pulling it out. Your father’s name was lit on the screen.

We are two sides of the same coin.

Tom would never forgive you.

Did he buy it, baby?

One and the same.

yes, daddy. see you soon.

Not when you would stand over him, a gun to his head, taking everything from him and leaving him with nothing. Not even so much as his name, because you knew you’d take that, too.

Reflections of each other.

You would take his name, and you would run with it.

read chapter seven

#WOW #this is hella long #but yeah a lot of shit is starting to happen ); #next chapter might kill me #im mad sad #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland series #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #mob!tom

[sheeperzzz]

I just realized I posted this on the clock app but not here- oops. Anyway, Ben 10 AU time!!

CW: Loud noises, blood, slight flash/glitch

Some info below 👇

The Alternative Universe name is Vilgax's Children, also known as the VC Universe. The jist of it is that Vilgax is Ben and Gwen's father. I could go deeper into their story, but I'll save that for another day :)

There's one arc in the story where the Incursions kidnap Ben and Gwen and hold them for ransom. They send the twins to Earth when their threats don't work. Vilgax already had plans to invade, but when he heard that his children were missing from the Incursion ship, he immediately assumed the worst and raided the Incursion Mothership himself. He killed and injured many Incursion workers, and he permanently impaired Milleois. He left Attea with a scar to remember.

Vilgax would learn, after digging through Incursean files for an hour or so, that Milleois sent his children to Earth. Vilgax's heart dropped. Neither of his children, to his knowledge anyway, knew anything about Earth and their culture. Ben blatantly refused to learn, and Gwen was never interested. They were lambs being sent to the slaughter. He knew Ben and Gwen could take care of themselves. It wasn't the people he was worried about. It was the Plumbers. He knew that if the Plumbers caught wind of his kids and that he was related to them, that they would do something to his kids. He did not know what, but he knew they would do something.

At this point in the story, Vilgax is faintly aware of Max but doesn't exactly know him. Vilgax just knows he was the man who left him literally broken and shredded when Ben and Gwen were ten. He knows that Max is dangerous, from his perspective at least, and he needs to get Ben and Gwen away from Earth as soon as possible.

As for the kids; when Ben and Gwen first land on Earth, they're dazed and confused. They just came hurtling into the atmosphere of an unknown planet with uncertain chances of survival. Ben goes to build or find a shelter, whichever comes first, and Gwen goes to figure out what the planet is. When she finds out they're on Earth, she excitedly jabbers to her brother about Earth and human culture and how they're so complex yet simple and blah blah blah Ben isn't listening. He never wanted to visit Earth. It only served to remind him that he wasn't even half of what his Father was. He still looked and acted primarily human. He was no true Vilgaxian.

Eventually, the twins would find/make shelter for themselves. They would try to blend into the human culture around Bellwood, Illinois. Ben would just barely fit in while Gwen acted as if she had lived there her whole life. Ben felt even more out of place. They'd run into Max on multiple occasions. Ben would be extremely skeptical of him and his friendliness, and Gwen, while also skeptical, would feel drawn to him and faintly recognize him.

Now from there, I have a good idea of what would happen. Either Max takes them in so he can make sure they're okay (and who he thinks they are), or Vilgax shows up to take his children back while Max is there. I'll figure it out eventually :P

#ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #b10 #ben10 #ben ten #ben tennyson #tennyson #vilgax ben 10 #vilgax #ben 10 au #ben 10 alt #alternative universe #art #drawing #doodle #reblog pls #unfinished au #fucking alternative universes have me in a chokehold #new au #incurseans #ben 10 aliens #ben 10 classic #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 uaf #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 animatic #animation #this took way too long #aaand post

[dippedanddripped]

On June 4, the Council of Fashion Designers of America released a statement along with action steps the organization would take to address racism, promote inclusivity, and create opportunities for Black talent in the fashion industry. Among the initiatives are an “in-house employment program specifically charged with placing Black talent in the fashion industry,” mentorship and internship programs pairing Black students and graduates with established companies, and a diversity and inclusion training program it would implement and make available to its members.

According to Pyer Moss founder Kerby Jean-Raymond, the CFDA still isn’t doing enough. As one of the most prominent Black members of the council, the designer isn’t afraid to speak truth to power, or use his platform to amplify the interests of the Black community. He attended the June 2 meeting where the CFDA wanted to discuss the ongoing Black Lives Matter protests and the systemic racism that has long been prevalent in the fashion industry.

He says he worked with other members of the CFDA — like Virgil Abloh, designer Prabal Gurung, and Public School’s Dao-Yi Chow — to craft a list of reasonable, actionable demands that CFDA members and its associated companies could be held accountable for. The points they outlined are as follows:

1. We’re calling on all U.S. retailers to train and instruct their employees to not make frivolous 911 calls for non-violent infractions.

2. We’re calling on all companies to not hire off-duty police officers in their retail locations.

3. We’re requiring that all CFDA affiliated companies commit to having 15% of their senior leadership staff be Black, the representation of what we are in the population.

4. We’re no longer accepting brands into the CFDA that do not meet these bare minimum standards of diversity.

5. We’re calling on all US retailers to commit 15% of their shelf space to Black-owned brands.

6. We will create a placement division with the CFDA that pairs Black talent with companies looking to hire.

7. We will be creating a program that pairs Black talent with established Black talent in the fashion industry.

Instead, the CFDA chose to ignore these requests, and released what Jean-Raymond calls a “fucking watered-down, bubblegum-ass statement that didn’t address the issues.”

In addition to creating more opportunities for Black talent, these requests specifically diminish the involvement between the fashion and retail industries with the police. The abolishment of the police force is Jean-Raymond’s most urgent objective of the moment, and talking about how to do it is the only reason he even agreed to this interview.

The outline for what a world without police looks like already exists, as multiple examples on social media have shown us. Reallocating inflated police budgets to youth programs, education, and healthcare would do more to diminish crime and create self-sustaining communities more akin to the suburbs, according to Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

“Affluent white communities already live in a world where they choose to fund youth, health, housing etc more than they fund police,” Ocasio-Cortez explained in an Instagram Story. “White communities bend over backwards to find alternatives to incarceration for their loved ones to ‘protect their future,’ like community service or rehab or restorative measures. Why don’t we treat Black and Brown people the same way?”

It’s a sentiment that is quickly turning into action. Cities like Los Angeles and New York have vowed to cut police budgets and reallocate those funds. The Minneapolis City Council voted to dismantle its police force. Reform laws named for Eric Garner and Breonna Taylor, two Black lives lost to police brutality, have recently been passed. But Jean-Raymond knows that there’s still a long march ahead towards police abolishment, and he’s going to do everything he can to make sure no one loses sight of the goal posts.

All over the country we’re seeing states actively taking steps to dismantle police departments or reallocating budgets away from them. Broadly speaking, how do we even start working towards abolishing the police?

It’s a multi-step process, and it requires all hands on deck for it to happen quickly. There are the immediate, short-term solutions that you see with #8CantWait and Campaign Zero’s harm reduction programs that have been around forever, but it’s really a smart approach to a bigger problem.

Semantics and words matter. Seeing catchy phrases and things like that do work. We live in a meme society, and the revolution will be memed — I think it’s important for us to have a deep dive into all of these pieces that lead to the bigger solution, which is community policing, community safety, demilitarization of the police, abolishing the police,  and all of the things we can agree society needs right now.

That’s definitely something we’re seeing in how information is being spread and the Black history narratives going viral on social media.

All of these different facts are coming to light in bite-sized, tangible bits. You’re getting it in memes and people are reposting at a rate that’s dangerously fast. We’re getting a lot of historical information thrown at us that the public may have ignored before.

And I think our collective consciousness is understanding that police are trained like a cult. We just saw that in Buffalo with the older gentleman who was pushed down — 57 officers essentially turned in their resignation because they wanted to protect [their fellow cops].

This “blue wall of silence” is a proper cult. Just like MAGA is a cult, just like Kabbalah is a cult, and just like Jim Jones had a cult. One of the things that we have to look at — and why we have to disband our current police and create completely new community-serving public safety measures — is because these people are not trained to do what they were supposed to do in the first place. Something went wrong. They’re not serving their communities, they’re not living amongst the people, they’re only serving each other. Why would you become a cop just so you could protect other cops?

““These people are not trained to do what they were supposed to do. Something went wrong. They’re not serving their communities, they’re only serving each other. Why would you become a cop just so you could protect other cops?””

It’s clear that reform isn’t enough. Campaigns for police reform like #8CantWait have their fair share of criticism, but we’ve also seen laws passed in honor of Eric Garner and Breonna Taylor that ban chokeholds and no-knock warrants.

With #8CantWait specifically, their approach is to deal with the things that we can immediately address overnight. Mayors can put these things into effect. Banning chokeholds doesn’t mean that the violence is going to stop — I don’t think anybody believes that means the violence is going to stop — but with chokeholds clearly banned, it makes it a lot harder for the [police] unions and their legal defense to justify those actions. It’s an effective thing that can reduce harm to individuals almost immediately.

The common denominator is that people in power usually agree that these killings are wrong and egregious, but what we don’t talk about enough is how powerful these police unions are and these pre-negotiated collective bargaining agreements that keep police officers from facing accountability.

So ultimately, defunding the police is about taking power away from those unions?

Defunding the police is the ultimate goal, but we also have to remember that politicians and people in power have been trying to fight these police unions and these corrupt police departments all around the country forever. So it’s super important to give credit to these organizations, like Campaign Zero and the Know Your Rights campaign, who are using tactical approaches and playing chess with the system.

At the same time, we have to give credit to the people on the street who are making noise and doing whatever the fuck they need to do to get attention. We all know that America respects money, and if they fuck with somebody’s pocket, they’re going to pay attention. We need universal pressure being put on corporations and businesses that support police.

How do we keep putting that pressure on?

One of the things that we can implement specifically in fashion and retail is to no longer call the police for non-violent offenses. [George Floyd] shouldn’t have had the police called on him for a $20 counterfeit bill in the first place, especially when we know what police have done to Black men and women historically.

Speaking of accountability, you also took the CFDA to task for ignoring the list of demands you helped put together and instead issuing a statement you found totally inadequate. In many ways, these institutions continue to fail the Black community.

It’s fucking lip service to the movement, and it’s bullshit. Honestly, this is probably one of the biggest slaps in the face that I’ve ever gotten, and me and Virgil [Abloh] are going back and forth on this thing like, “What the fuck do we do?”

As far as the way that they conducted themselves and chose to omit specific language that can make Black people feel advocated for? A governing body like the CFDA holds so much prestige within the fashion space, and for them not to advocate in the proper way leads Black people to believe that there’s not going to be any help when we get here — or if we can ever get there at all.

““This is divine intervention. We got a pandemic, no distractions. We never had a movement free of distractions the way that we do now. Now all you can do is pick a side — and if you don’t pick a side, that means you picked a side.””

Not for nothing, the CFDA also has Black people in positions of power, however oftentimes these roles can be marginalized in their organizational influence.

I’m not going to speak too much on it, but what I will say is in my experience with working within these industries, the few people of color who are there are very scared to speak out, because they’re usually retaliated against in micro-aggressive ways. And I don’t blame them for not being able to speak out.

I have a privilege because I have rights to my own company, I don’t really answer to anybody — I’ve never had to — but for a lot of people, this is a new thing. Getting by and getting up is a means of survival for a lot of Black people, so I can’t fault them for showing up in spaces and not feeling like they can be their complete selves when the removal of all of their progress can be done in a swift instant.

One of the very first things you posted when the worldwide protests were gaining steam was “

Don’t get tired

.” We’re all trying to maintain this energy and sentiment as long as we can — why do you think it’s been so sustained?

The revolution needs to take naps. We went back to school, we went back to work, and if you were very outspoken about Black shit at home and how we were being mistreated by the system, then the next day, you had to take the LIRR and go into your racist, micro-aggressive office and deal with people — you got tired.

Now, this is divine intervention. We got a pandemic, no sports, no distractions, no new movies coming out, no concerts — nothing. The world has to focus on the same Black shit we’ve been trying to get done for the past several years. We never had this before. Not in the Civil Rights era, nowhere. We never had a movement free of distractions the way that we do. Now all you can do is pick a side — and if you don’t pick a side, that means you picked a side.

Jenna Wortham described this extraordinary moment as

“a glorious poetic rage.”

How does this feel different to you than what was going on in Ferguson six years ago?

We’re at a turning point in history where it’s like: Where do you want to be in this chapter? Where do you want to tell your grandkids you stood? And who do you really think is going to win? I’d bet on the winning team, if I was you.

Here’s the thing: If evil prevails, there will be no history books. In order for there to even be a history book where we’re talking about 2020, good has to win over evil before 2050. We have to accept it as a moral issue. I don’t want to liken this to other genocides and other tragedies that have happened in the course of global history, but a lot of us would feel like if we could go back and undo certain parts of human history, we would. We’re at one of those points right now. We can collectively make the change we need to make: completely dismantle the current policing system.

Only 5 percent of 911 calls are for violent crime, so why does an officer need to show up at your house with a gun? Why do you need to pull me over for a speeding ticket with a gun drawn? Why do you need to come investigate a missing child with a gun drawn? The same way you can gauge whether to send a firetruck or an ambulance, you can gauge whether to send somebody with a loaded gun or somebody with a pen and a pad.

This is a fight you’ve been engaging in through Pyer Moss for nearly a decade now, even back in 2015 with the “They Have Names” T-shirt. How do you stay so consistent and mission-driven?

Right now, I’m only lending you my likeness so that you can bring attention to defunding the police. That’s the trade-off. This is not a self-serving mission; this is something that needs to change in my lifetime. I’m terrified of bringing children into this world.

My nephew is 15 years old, and I started this fight when he was in the nut sac. He likes Odell Beckham a lot, so he dyed the top of his hair blonde, and now he has braids at the top. He likes NLE Choppa and he’s putting me onto all these young rappers that I didn’t even know existed, TikTok challenges, and things like that.

He’s stepping into adolescence, but to some random, trigger-happy cop who’s never lived in his neighborhood in Mount Vernon, who’s on their third week of the job, that little boy becomes a grown-ass threat. That story is not unique to all these mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and grandmothers who are genuinely terrified for themselves and for everyone else just trying to conduct their normal, everyday lives. This shit is scary, and it has to stop. Anything else is not worth talking about.

““We’re in a turning point in history where it’s like: Where do you want to be in this chapter? We can collectively make the change.””

Between brands, stores, and publications, there’s certainly a renewed desire to leverage the equity of the Black community as a way to show support. But as you’ve

called out on Twitter

, there’s an egregious amount of virtue signaling and performative allyship.

I’ve remarked on it [happening] with clothing stores specifically, the ones who are now touting all these Black brands that they’ve never carried or even gone to see themselves. Magazines I’ve never even heard of are putting me in these round-ups, and it’s so disrespectful because they’re not even categorized; it’s just “Black designers.”

It’s detrimental to those who have put in the work to differentiate themselves and carve their own lanes. People who are doing really unique, gender-defying and poetic work like Telfar are being put in the same breath as a single-product DTC, venture-backed company. They’re not giving them any differentiation — just grouping them all together because they’re Black.

If they wanted to have a little bit more respect, they should admit they never supported us, and follow that up with why they’re going to start, and why you should, too. They should educate people about what we do instead of just putting us on these erroneous fucking lists. You can guilt people into buying things because we’re Black, but that can harm our businesses, because once these people feel like this “trend” is over, then they have a pass to forget about us.

#pyer moss #cfda #defund the cops #defund12 #defund the police #fashion blog #twitter

[jbankai89]

Never Let Me Go [41/41]

A/N: To say that this epilogue got away from me would be a massive understatement—it wound up being approximately three times as long as one of my usual chapters for this story. Whoops?

I just want to say here—thank you. This story has been in my life for nearly a full year, and the response to it has been nothing short of staggering. The comments, likes, recommendations...in less than a year this story has surpassed practically every marker of my other stories, and I'm just amazed and humbled by the response. So thank you guys, so, so, so, so much for all of your support throughout the process of writing this, whether through chats on Tumblr, to comments, kudos, or bookmarks on AO3, it's been an amazing journey. Though I do plan to post the alternate story, Hold Me Close ~eventually~ (and maybe a short Phinami piece!) I do need a break from this 'verse for a bit, so chances are the next YOI fic that I pose will not be part of this universe, but something else, because my poor brain needs a break. If you want updates on what I'm doing or you wish to either send me an Ask or message, you can get in touch with me on through this blog, or on Instagram via jibwritesandcooks.

Again, thank you, and I hope you guys enjoy the epilogue! ^.^

Five Years Later

“Mama!” a voice screamed, “Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama!”

A tiny blonde girl barrelled into Yuri's legs, nearly making him fall over, and he glared down at his second born.

“What is it, Helina?” he asked as he crouched down to scoop her up, and sniffling, she wrapped her little arms around his neck in something close to a chokehold. “No, really what's wrong?”

“Hana did it again!” she shrieked into Yuri's ear, and he groaned.

“Yuuri!” Yuri barked, and Yuuri came barrelling downstairs, his face white as he gazed at Yuri and his distraught daughter.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked, “we're sort of busy up there—” Yuuri broke off when Minami screamed, then added, “so this better be important.”

“I don't give a flying finger of fate if you're exorcising a demon or anything else,” Yuri snapped grumpily. “I'm playing Mat` to six girls down here. Now, would you please tell Hana to stop sitting on Helina and farting?”

“Oh, not again...Hana!” Yuuri shouted, “Hana get your little butt over here now!”

“I didn't do it!” a muffled voice called out from the direction of the playroom, followed by the distinct patter of Hana rushing over to her mother, pigtails swinging, and her hazel eyes bright with mock innocence. “Whatever she said, she's a big fibber, Mama!”

“I did not fib!” Helina cried indignantly from her perch in Yuri's arms, “Hana is the fibber! She sat on me, and farted!”

“All right, that's it!” Yuri shouted, just as four other faces peeked out at him from the playroom's door frame. “From this day forward, no one is to fart in this household ever again! Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Mat`,” Helina said.

“Yes, Dyédya,” Hana said at the same time.

Yuri set his youngest down, and she scurried off before he could say a word, with her cousin hot on her heels. Yuuri was standing next to him and smiling, while Yuri shook his head a little.

“I swear, I never sounded batshit crazy before I had that little demon. Alvinia was perfect, then I had...her.”

“Demon Child Number Two?” Yuuri asked innocently, and Yuri snorted.

“You can talk,” he retorted, and Yuuri smiled at him apologetically, before he quickly changed the subject. “How's Minami doing?”

“Nine, nearly ten centimetres,” Yuuri replied. “He's in a lot of pain, but Phichit and the midwife are helping. I think Phichit being all supportive and not moving from his side for sixteen hours is keeping him calm, so...less pain.”

“Have I missed any good lines?” Yuri asked with a small smirk, and Yuuri covered his mouth as he began to laugh.

“Well...no, not really. Mostly lots of crying, and oh, it hurts, oh it hurts sort of thing. No swearing, you still hold that title.”

“Damn straight,” Yuri replied, making Yuuri laugh again, just as another cry sounded from upstairs.

“I better get back up there,” Yuuri said. “Are you good, or do you want Viktor to come down and give you a hand?”

“Beka should be home soon,” Yuri replied as he shook his head. “We'll swap out after he gets back.”

Yuuri nodded and headed back up, and at nearly the same moment Otabek burst through the door, stacks of pizza boxes balanced precariously in his arms, and from the playroom Yuri could hear a unified cry of, “pizza!”

Makkachin lunged at the door with an excited bark, but luckily Yuri caught his collar, stopping the attack short as Otabek was swarmed with youngsters, who had circled the alpha and began chanting, “Pi-zza! Pi-zza! Pi-zza!” in an eerie sort of way, as though they were performing some sort of bizarre ritual.

“Hang on, hang on, girls!” Otabek cried as he led them all towards the kitchen and dining room combination. “I need plates, and someone needs to get the drinks and chicken wings out of the car—Alvinia?”

“Augh, Äke, why me?” she whined, and placed her hands on her hips as she pouted at her father.

“Okay, um, Yuriko, why don't you—” Yuri coughed pointedly, cutting Otabek off. Otabek turned to him, and Yuri raised his eyebrows pointedly. “No, wait, Avi, car. Get the drinks. You're a big girl now, and you can help. Yuriko can go with you.”

“Does it still means I hasta do it if Mat` made you say it?” she drawled, and Yuri snorted a little at her comeback.

“You heard what your Äke said,” Yuri added. “Go get the drinks before your cousins all die of starvation and thirst. We promise to save a cheese slice for you.”

Alvinia groaned again, and swept a strand of black hair from her eyes that had fallen out of her long braid as she sauntered towards the door with Yuriko following more quietly. The moment that they'd gone, Otabek and Yuri began to snicker as Yuri pulled down the plates, and Otabek organized the pizza boxes, with the cheese and pepperoni ones stacked on top.

“Oh, Yura,” Otabek said with another chuckle, “we are in so much trouble when that girl hits puberty...”

“I wonder whose fault that is,” Yuri shot back teasingly, while he offered Otabek a sly smirk, and set down the plates next to the boxes, and then went for the plastic sippy cups. “But, Beka, I am proud of you for sticking to your guns today and not letting her have her way. I admit, we probably should've started earlier, but...”

“We've started, that's what counts,” Otabek added with a weak smile as he piled plastic knives and forks on top of the plates. “But it's still so hard to say no to her...she's our baby, you know?”

“And about to start Kindergarten,” Yuri added with a sly grin. “I almost laughed when that woman said she wanted more diversity at her school, when in walks little Avi, with her alpha and omega parents, and speaking not one, not two, but five fucking languages perfectly. I don't think I've ever seen someone go for the approval stamp so damn fast.”

“Little Avi and her attitude,” Otabek corrected, “I bet you twenty bucks that she becomes an actress or something, she's just got so much damn sass.”

“She got all her sass from me,” Yuri whined, “how come you never told me I could be an actor?”

“Yuri!” Otabek protested, and his eyes widened with horror when Yuri's pout became much more pronounced. “Well, I just...and you're just...erm, what I mean to say is that—”

“Uh, Beka?”

“What?”

“I'm teasing.”

Otabek opened his mouth as he stared at Yuri, then closed it again. He opened and closed his mouth a few more times, before he finally said, “you're a terrible person, I'm running on three hours of sleep, and I'm not talking to you anymore.”

Yuri barked a laugh, then turned to the group of girls, all seated at the table and chattering away happily, and cupped his hands around his mouth as he called, “okay! Who wants what pizza?”

“Wait, wait!” Alvinia shrieked from the front door, “don't forget me!” without another word, she raced into the kitchen, tripping over the threshold as she went, and toppled down with a yelp, spilling canned drinks everywhere, but thankfully, none of them opened.

“Oh, Zha`nym,” Otabek cooed as he rushed away from the counter and over to Alvinia, who was sitting up slowly, one of her knees reddened, and her bottom lip quivering.

“I fell,” she said, sniffling a little when she looked up at her father. “M-My knee hurts.”

“Oh, your poor knee,” Otabek said as he scooped her up and carried Alvinia over to one of the stools next to the breakfast nook. “Let's have a look...Yuri? Could you get those drinks?”

Yuri pursed his lips a little, but nodded as he scooped up the cans and set them aside, while out of the corner of his eye he watched Otabek fetch an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a tea towel, and pressed it to Alvinia's reddened knee, while she continued to sniffle and rub at her eyes.

Deciding it best to not lecture his child just yet, Yuri turned back to Yuriko, who had toddled in with the box of spicy chicken wings, pointedly walking carefully as though she was afraid of falling like Alvinia had.

“I have them,” Yuriko said in a rush and held out the box, and Yuri chuckled a little as he gazed down at the blue-eyed girl, her braids swinging and her cheeks flushed with shyness.

“What do you have, sweetheart?” Yuri asked, and her face went redder.

“The...the...chicken things.”

“Chicken wings.”

“Chicken wings,” she repeated, and beamed when Yuri offered her a small smile.

“Yeah,” she replied, her pigtails swinging. “Is Avi okay?”

“She's fine,” Yuri replied, “just a little bump. Her Äke is gonna fix her up.”

“Oh, good,” Yuriko smiled. “Avi runs a lot. She gets a-cited, and runs, and gets bumps that only Ağa can fix.”

“Yes, well, maybe this will teach her to not run with her arms full,” Yuri replied with the same smile as he took the wings from the girl, and set them on the counter with the pizza. “Can you do me a favour, Yuriko? It's a big girl job.”

“I'm a big girl!” she piped, and grinned. “I can do it, Dyédya!”

“Good, I know you can,” Yuri replied, and patted her head once, making her giggle. “I want you to go to the dining room and ask everyone what kind of pizza they want, and what drink. Can you do that for me?”

“That's a big job, Dyédya!” she said, puffing her chest out importantly. “I can do it!”

“I know you can,” Yuri said with a chuckle, and gave her a small nudge. “Go on, go ask your siblings and cousin what they want.”

“'Kay!”

Without another word Yuriko darted out of the kitchen and headed for the dining room, at the same moment, Yuri spotted his own child trying to sneak back to the table with the others unnoticed, but froze when she caught sight of Yuri watching her.

“What have I told you about running in the house, missy?”

“That...it's cute?”

“Try again.”

“Sorry, Mat`,” Alvinia replied with a frown and distinctive puppy-dog look in her eyes, which had no effect on Yuri whatsoever.

“I have told you a hundred times—no running in the house, especially when you're carrying stuff in your arms. No dessert tonight.”

“But, Mat`—!” Alvinia protested, whining audibly, but Yuri ignored it.

“No,” he said. “You do not run in the house. Go sit down, we'll bring out the food in a moment.”

Hanging her head, Alvinia shuffled out of the kitchen, just as Yuriko hurried back in, her face still flushed with excitement from doing her big girl job.

“Viktoria, me, and Helina wants cheese, and ehbody else wants pepperonis and cheese,” she said proudly. “And...and, me, Viktoria, and Hana wants coke, and Helina wants root beer, and Antonia wants sprite.”

“Got it!” Otabek called proudly from the counter as he opened the boxes and plated the requested slices, while Yuri took the soft drinks to the sink and cracked them open, thankfully with minimal overflow before he transferred them to the sippy cups. They also plated a slice of cheese pizza for Alvinia, as well as a coke, and carried everything out to the table two by two, to a chorus of thank yous from the girls—except Alvinia, who was still sulking.

Yuri stood by his daughter's side, his eyebrows raised and arms crossed. Her eyes seemed even more green than usual when glazed with tears, and though she could get virtually anything she wanted from Otabek in this state, she and Yuri both knew that her Mat` was harder to break, and Yuri merely stood there, not saying a word, until Alvinia mumbled a sullen, “thank you, Mat`,” before Yuri smiled, and stepped away.

“You want to trade with Viktor and Yuuri for a bit?” Yuri asked as he stepped back into the kitchen, where Otabek was pulling out the Grown-Up Pizza—vegetarian for Phichit, meat lover's for Viktor, and all-dressed for everyone else—except Minami, who was a little busy at the moment. “Yuuri suggested it just before you got back, but I said we might go up after you got in. Minami's still got a bit of a way's to go—Yuri told me that Minami was at nine centimetres the last time it was checked.”

“How dilated does an omega have to be to give birth again?” Otabek asked as he cracked open one of the coke cans over the sink, then sipped at the foam quickly. “I remember Helina was eleven or twelve...”

“Alvinia was eleven, Helina was fourteen 'cause she had a really fat head,” Yuri said as he helped himself to one of the pizza slices. “It can be up to fifteen, so anywhere from one to five more hours, depending on how big the baby is.”

“That's not a wide divide at all,” Otabek said sarcastically, and Yuri chuckled as he nudged the alpha's shoulder. Otabek laughed as he grabbed the chicken wings and a sharpie, and began to scrawl something on the top of it, making Yuri eye him curiously.

“What're you doing?”

“Baby chicken wings,” Otabek explained as he held out the box for Yuri to see, which now read, It's a, with a large blank space for girl or boy. “Once Minami and Phichit have their kid, I'll fill in the rest, reheat them, and bring them up.”

“Minami's going to love that,” Yuri said as he chuckled, “honestly, maybe the baby is just one giant buffalo wing, that's literally all he's been eating for the last nine months.”

“Oh, but you forget that time that Phichit made him those cauliflower-sriracha buffalo things!” Otabek said, and Yuri snorted as he recalled the pandemonium that ensued after Minami had whipped the faux buffalo wings at his mate, and the catastrophe of Phichit getting some of the sriracha sauce in his eyes.

“Those two made Alvinia's pregnancy look like a breeze, I swear,” Yuri said with another snicker. “It was just one drama after another after another after another...”

“And now they're ready to make our army of children an even seven.”

“Seven is an odd number, Beka.”

“Well, what would make it an even number—” Otabek began, but broke off with a laugh when he saw the scowl on Yuri's face. “Just teasing, Yura.”

“No more kids, Beka, I mean it,” Yuri said sternly, “two is more than enough for me.”

“I know, really,” Otabek said as he swept in and offered Yuri a light kiss. “I'm sorry that I brought it up.”

“Do you actually want more kids?” Yuri asked seriously as he glanced up at him, “seven is...a lot. And already it's pure, nonstop chaos in the house, and the one time we did the No Kids Camping Weekend for just you and me, we had to come home early because Yuuri called to tell us that Helina was having a fit, and kept screaming for us.”

“Seriously? No,” Otabek replied with a chuckle as he moved to stand at Yuri's back, and pressed his palms to the omega's flat stomach, making him shiver. “I just loved seeing you pregnant...I just find it so hot, and with Helina you were horny all the time...”

“Maybe I should apply to be a surrogate,” Yuri teased, “rent out my uterus to people who need it...”

“And turn me into a jealous monster for flipping out at the idea of some other alpha's sperm inside you? Hell no, Yura.”

“Then I think we need to be mature adults, and resist the urge to make more babies, even though it makes you all hot,” Yuri said as he got on his toes to peck Otabek's lips. “Come on, let's go check on the mother-to-be.”

Otabek smiled at him warmly as he nodded, and Yuri moved to perch the pizza boxes and chicken wings on top of the fridge and out of Makkachin's reach, while Otabek loaded himself up with plates of pizza slices, and Yuri grabbed the drinks—including Otabek's opened one—and they checked on the girls once before they headed upstairs.

“Shift change!” Yuri called as they reached the landing, and Yuuri and Viktor both poked their heads out of the room at the same time, and their faces brightened when they saw the load that they were carrying.

“Pizza!” Viktor cried cheerfully, and bounded forward to relieve Otabek of two of the plates, while Yuuri helped himself to two of the drinks.

“Careful,” Yuri warned with a vague smirk as Yuuri accepted the drinks. “Alvinia brought them in...and face-planted on the way into the kitchen.”

“Running again, was she?” Yuuri asked with a warm laugh. “That girl really doesn't lack for energy. Is she okay?”

“Fine,” Yuri replied, and shrugged. “Otabek freaked out, big shock—”

“—I can hear you, Yuri—”

“—and iced it right away, so she's totally fine.”

“Well, that's good,” Yuuri said with a small, relieved smile. “Come on, Viktor, probably a good idea to not leave the girls alone too long...”

“Coming!”

Without another word, the pair turned and descended the stairs, and Yuri watched them go with an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Come on,” Yuri said to Otabek after they'd gone, “let's go see how Mama is doing.”

As if on cue, another whimpering cry sounded from Minami and Phichit's bedroom, and Yuri and Otabek made a beeline for it, poking their heads in to see Minami laying on his back, his face shiny with sweat, and Phichit at his side, with the midwife in between his open legs. Several towels had been laid out on the bed, and both of Minami's cheerleaders were coaxing him through the latest contraction, while tears streamed from the omega's eyes, intermingling with his sweat as they disappeared into his hair.

“I can't do this,” Minami whined, “I can't, it hurts too much...”

“Yes you can, love,” Phichit said as he kissed him and mopped his forehead. “Remember what you told me? You said to me that you wanted to have our baby in a place that you felt safe and comfortable, and you said that you wanted a home birth. I know it hurts, sweetheart, but it's almost over. You can do this. You're so strong—way stronger than me. And if you can put up with months of shit from a psychotic alpha, you can totally do this.”

“But it hurts, it hurts, I can't—”

“Don't think about it,” Phichit said, “this is just a moment in time. In a little while, you'll be able to hold our child in your arms, and all the pain and uncomfortableness will be forgotten. You're stronger than this, love, just relax, and let your body do what it needs to do.”

“We got spicy buffalo wings for you when you finish?” Otabek offered, breaking up the dramatic scene, and Yuri buried his face in his free hand with a groan.

“What?” Otabek said, “what did I say?”

When Yuri looked back up, Otabek appeared confused and a little lost by the blank looks he was getting from Minami and Phichit. Yuri set down the drinks he had been holding, relieved Otabek of his pizza plates, and took his hands gently.  

“My dear alpha, I beg you not to help me,” Yuri said sweetly, causing Phichit to snort.

“It's like I have a disease,” Otabek mumbled as they sat down at Minami's bedside, Yuri close enough to take Minami's hand, and the omega smiled at him weakly. “Every time there's an omega in labour around I just say the stupidest shit...”

“Using chicken wings as an incentive isn't nearly as bad as that time you panicked when I went into labour for Helina,” Yuri said dryly, and Otabek flushed at the memory. “As I recall, you ran out of the hospital room, came back with a bunch of balloons, and told me that you brought me flowers.”

“At least Avi liked them,” Otabek retorted teasingly, “she kept calling them baba-loons.” Yuri snorted a little at Otabek's words as he turned his attention back to Minami. At the same moment, he groaned as another contraction hit, and his hand tensed in Yuri's weakly.

“Ohh...” he whined and his head fell back on the pillow. “Phichit, it hurts...”

“It's okay, love,” Phichit said as he moved in to gently kiss his forehead, “you can do it, just breathe, that's it...”

As the contraction passed, the Midwife, who had been relatively quiet up to that point, straightened up, and she offered Minami a warm smile.

“Honey, I have good news, you are almost done,” she said, her smile widening when Yuri, Phichit, and Otabek all gasped at once, having not anticipated this moment for a while longer. Before Yuri could ask if she meant what he thought she meant, she added, “I see the head, so now's the time to start pushing. Are you ready?”

“I—I think so,” he replied as he nodded, his gaze swivelling from Phichit to Yuri as he spoke. “Yeah, I think I'm ready.”

“All right, hon, now, when I say push, I want you to bear down and push as hard as you can, okay?” she said, and Minami nodded, though his eyes were bleary with both uncertainty and exhaustion. “And...push!”

Yuri, Phichit, and Otabek all echoed the midwife, crying “push, push, push, push!” at the same time, while Minami screwed his eyes shut, bowed his head forward, and pushed as hard as he could. When the contraction passed, he slumped down against his pillows with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving, while he continued to cling to Phichit and Yuri desperately.

“Great job, Minami, you're getting there!” the midwife said. “Are you ready for another?”

“No,” he replied with a whine, but he was smiling weakly, as though he knew that he had to push either way.

“Okay, come on, push, push, push! You can do it!”

Minami pushed again, this time accompanied by a scream, tears and sweat dripping from his chin as the first bit of white, viscera-coated flesh began to poke out from between Minami's spread legs, while he squeezed Yuri's hand so hard that his fingers began to go numb.

“Almost there, come on,” the midwife encouraged, “you have the head almost out, push!”

Minami screamed again, his face red, and Yuri, Phichit, and Otabek cried out joyfully as the baby made it the rest of the way out, and the midwife began to wipe it down as it let out a gurgling, raspy cry, its little eyes clenched shut, and Yuri and Otabek exchanged excited grins as the midwife handed the wrapped child to Minami, and held out a pair of specialized scissors to Phichit.

“Would you like to cut your son's cord?” she asked, and both Yuri and Otabek grinned as Phichit blinked back tears, and accepted the scissors.

“I have a son,” Phichit said weakly, his tone bordering on dumbstruck as he followed the midwife's instructions to cutting the cord, “I have...a son...”

“First boy,” Otabek whispered to Yuri to keep from ruining the moment, and Yuri smiled as he nodded.

The little baby boy was still crying as Minami held him and cooed at him, trying to settle him down, while the midwife pulled Phichit aside and murmured something to him, and he nodded a little as he sat down next to Minami and whispered something in his mate's ear. Minami's eyes widened, and he nodded as he asked, “how long do we have?”

“We better go soon,” Phichit said, “I don't want you to get an infection.”

“What's wrong?” Yuri interjected, “Minami, are you all right?”

“Apparently my boy ripped his way out of me, so we gotta go to the hospital and get me patched up,” Minami said, “I'm really tired, though...”

“If Phichit is okay with it, he can carry your son, and I can carry you to the car, you can borrow some of Yuri's maternity leggings, and we'll break out one of those doughnut cushions...”

“It's just a small tear,” the midwife added with a reassuring smile, “but I'm not qualified to suture, though, so a hospital would be best.”

“I'll go with them,” Otabek offered, “you can stay behind and tell everyone the good news.”

“The doctor may want to keep you on for a day or so for observation,” the midwife added, “so everyone can come visit you at the hospital a bit later, once you've had some rest.”

“Okay,” Minami said with a weary nod as he hugged his son close. The baby had finally calmed down, but was still a bit fussy as he lay curled in his mother's arms. “I wanted to stay home, but honestly, I'm too tired to argue.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Phichit said as he stroked Minami's hair, then leant in for a kiss. “But it's for the best, you know that.”

“I do,” he agreed with a weak smile.

Between Otabek and Yuri, they got Minami ready to leave, and Otabek carried him to the car, while Phichit stayed close with their infant son swaddled in his arms. They had been immediately swarmed by the other kids when they headed downstairs, but Viktor and Yuuri managed to keep them back as Phichit carefully put his newborn in the baby seat, while Otabek gently set Minami down next to it upon the doughnut-shaped cushion, then turned back to Yuri and offered him a quick kiss.

“I'll call as soon as you guys can come visit,” Otabek said as Phichit crawled in next to Minami, wrapping his arms protectively around his mate, while Otabek moved towards the driver's door.

“See that you do,” Yuri said with a wry smile, and leant up for another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Yura. Be back—”

“Wait!” Phichit called, and both Yuri and Otabek whipped around in alarm, only to see Phichit smile at them apologetically. “Sorry. I just...you can tell everyone his name, please? We picked out names before he was born, and...his name is Aran.”

“Aran Chulanont,” Minami added with a weary smile, and Yuri laughed a little as he closed his hand around the edge of the door.

“I'll tell them, don't worry. Just worry about you and your perfect little boy, okay?”

“'Kay,” Minami said with a slightly dopey smile, and Yuri shut the door.

Yuri took a step back as Otabek started the car, and smiled warmly as he waved off his mate and the newest addition to their family.

“Mat`, what happened, what happened?” Alvinia demanded as she burst out of the front door and rushed forward. Yuri immediately scooped his daughter up, while Helina chased after her sister, and latched herself to Yuri's leg. “Where is Minami-oji going? Is he okay? Is it a baby? Dyédya Viktor said it was an ostrich.”

“Your Dyédya is a big fibber,” Yuri said with a laugh as he set Alvinia down, and took her and Helina's hands, and led his daughters back inside. “They had a little boy, and they're calling him Aran. Minami-oji needed to go to the hospital because he got a little hurt, and they just need to make sure he's okay. Äke went with them to make sure that the doctors take good care of him and your new baby cousin.”

“Mama?” Helina asked around her thumb, which had been popped into her mouth.

“Yes?”

“What's an ozz...ozz...ozzwitch?”

“Ostrich, baby,” Yuri said with a chuckle as he shut the door and picked her up, supporting her with one arm while he continued to hold onto Alvinia's hand at the same time. “It's a really big bird that can't fly.”

“Is it bigger than Äke?”

“Much bigger.”

“Is it bigger than Dyédya Viktor?”

“Much bigger.”

“Is it bigger than Prádyed?”

“It's really, really big, dummy!” Alvinia said suddenly, and Yuri's eyes bulged, at the same moment that the girl at his side paled when she realized that she'd massively fucked up.

“Where on Earth did you hear that word?” Yuri asked softly, and he saw his daughter visibly swallow.

“I don't know?”

“Try again.”

“Um...um...” Alvinia's eyes darted left and right, her little brain clearly trying desperately to come up with some sort of explanation, when Viktor entered the hall with Yuriko in his arms. At the same moment, Alvinia pointed at her uncle and screeched, “Dyédya Viktor did it!”

“What?” Viktor squawked, “no, I didn't!” He paused, and blinked. “Hang on, what didn't I do?”

“Do we have to have another kids are sponges talk?” Yuri asked as he led the girls farther inside, then gently nudged them back towards the playroom where the other three were. They got the hint at once and scurried away quickly, while Viktor set Yuriko down, and she did the same. Once Yuri was certain that they were out of earshot, he turned his full attention back to Viktor. “Alvinia called her sister a dummy, and said that she heard it from you.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri cried, apparently having heard the discussion, and strode into the hall to face off with his mate. “We've talked about this! I've only just gotten the trio to stop calling their little sister buttmilk.”

“I'm sorry!” Viktor whined, “I was talking to Pot—” Viktor broke off abruptly and glanced at Yuri, who raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Erm...I was talking to one of our animals and called them a dumbass, and Avi heard me so I told her to not use that word, and she asked if dummy was okay...”

“And of course, being the brilliant parent that you are, you said yes,” Yuri filled in as he rolled his eyes, and Viktor flushed a deep red.

“Sorry,” Viktor mumbled. “She rushed off before I could correct her, you know how she is.”

“A neverending ball of energy, yeah, I know,” Yuri said, and snorted. “It's fine, just...try to curb your language around my kids. If I can resist dropping the F-Bomb, you can resist saying dumbass, dumbass—oh, and if I catch you calling my cat a dumbass ever again, I will beat you to death with a shovel.”

“It never ceases to amaze me just how kind and warm you are, Yurio,” Viktor teased as Hana toddled into the entryway, her thumb popped into her mouth, and her plush bunny rabbit dragging along the floor. She stopped in front of Viktor and held up her arms in a silent bid to be picked up, and Viktor indulged her at once. “You all right, sweetie?”

“Avi said that the baby went to the hopital,” she said from her perch in her father's arms, “how come?”

“Minami-oji got a little boo-boo that they need to look at, that's all, my lovie. We'll go see them soon.”

“Is it really a birb, Otets?” Hana asked, “you said it was an hostawich, and Avi said that an hostawich is a birb.”

“No, not really,” Viktor replied with a warm chuckle, “it's a boy. Minami-oji and Leung Phichit are calling him Aran—what's wrong?”

Yuri pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing at the sour look that crossed the little girl's face as she said sullenly, “boys never play right. Will he be an omega or apha?”

“We don't know yet,” Yuri filled in as Hana turned towards him just as Helina wandered out into the hall, much in the same fashion that Hana had, and tugged on Yuri's hand until he relented and scooped his daughter up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on Yuri's shoulder while he added, “they'll probably find out at the hospital.”

“I'm a bee!” Helina piped, and smiled proudly when Yuri laughed. “And you is an O.” Helina moved her little hand, presumably to poke the tip of Yuri's nose, but missed spectacularly shoved the digit as far up his nasal passage as it would go. Yuri yelped and pulled her hand away as she giggled, and he shook his head at his tiny terror with a wry smile.

~*~

“Ah, so Minami and Phichit had a little boy, did they?” Nikolai asked, and Yuri nodded into the camera. His grandfather looked well today, sitting up in his bed with a cardigan pulled on to stave off the autumn chill. “And what did they name him?”

“Aran,” Yuri replied. “It's Thai, I think. He looks so much like his Mat`, but he has Phichit's hair. He's very cute. As soon as Minami's feeling up to it, we'll bring him and the kids in shifts to the home to visit you.”

“Bring them all at once, synok, I am not so aged yet that I cannot handle a little chaos,” his grandfather replied with a chuckle. “I was seeing the doctors before you TimeFaced me, they found some of the feeling coming back to my left side, if this continues, they say I might be allowed to go home soon.”

“FaceTimed, Grandpa,” Yuri corrected with a laugh. “And did they? I must have missed their call, usually they let me know the second your condition changes.”

“It was only a little stroke, Yuratchka, I am fine—”

“A massive cerebral event is not a little stroke, Grandpa,” Yuri interrupted sternly, “I want you around for a long, long time, so you just make sure you focus more on getting well, and not rushing out of that place, all right?”

“Yes, yes, Yuratchka,” Nikolai replied with a warm chuckle, and Yuri shook his head a little as he smiled at his grandfather, hoping that despite his dismissive tone, he actually understood his condition better than he was letting on.

“Would you like to say hello to Helina and Alvinia?” Yuri asked, and Nikolai smiled, nodding his head a little.

Yuri mirrored his grandfather's expression as he got off his bed and went to the door, cracking it open as he called, “Alvinia! Helina! Come say hello to Prádyed!”

He listened to the thundering of his girls racing up the stairs as he backed onto the bed and lay down, roughly two seconds before the girls leapt onto the bed with him, and poked their little heads into view of the camera, beaming at their great-grandfather.

“Prádyed, look!” Helina piped as she held up her bandaged index finger.

“Oh, my! What happened to your little finger?” Nikolai asked with another chuckle, and Helina bounced excitedly in her seat at the attention from him.

“It got caught.”

“In what?”

“Avi's teeth.”

Yuri snorted as he eased back against the pillows upon his bed, one child on either side of him, chattering away with their great-grandfather happily, while they all waited for Otabek to get home from the hospital.

~*~

Four hours later, bordering on nearly eight o'clock, Otabek pulled back into the driveway, smiling with amusement at the pack of excited, chattering children who raced up to the stopped car, all demanding questions about Minami and the baby all at once.

“Minami-oji is fine, the baby is fine—oof!” Otabek grunted as Alvinia launched herself at him, and he hefted his daughter up as he added, “we can go visit them tomorrow, if you want.”

“But Ağa!” Antonia protested while she clung to his leg, “we wants to go now! I wanna see the baby!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Otabek said with a chuckle as he patted her head and slowly picked his way through the herd of children, making his way to the front door, where Yuri was waiting to offer him a kiss in greeting. “But it's late, it's almost bedtime, and Minami-oji needs to rest. Having a baby is a lot of work.”

“Damn straight it is,” Yuri muttered over the discomfited cries of the kids protesting bedtime, and Otabek snorted softly.

“Come on, everyone,” Otabek called as he wrapped his free arm around Yuri, still holding Alvinia with the other, “some hot chocolate, then bed! The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner we can visit Minami-oji tomorrow!”

To Yuri's overwhelming shock, the proclamation was not met with more complaints, but instead all the kids zipped inside without another word.

Including Alvinia, who all but leapt from her father's arms and followed the others inside.

“How...how did you do that?” Yuri asked softly, a note of awe in his voice as Otabek laughed and leant in for another kiss.

“Black magic, mostly,” Otabek teased, and Yuri snorted as they headed inside to find all the girls seated  politely around the dinner table, with Viktor and Yuuri in the kitchen, chatting happily and bringing two kettles to a boil while they filled up six heatproof sippy cups and kid-sized mugs with hot chocolate powder. Amusingly, Yuri noted that every time any of the girls began to talk, one of the others would hiss to silence them, and their mouths would immediately snap shut, as though they believed that they would not get to visit the baby if they made a sound. Yuri didn't mind this so much—it made a nice change from the usual chaos that preceded bedtime.

“Hot chocolate time!” Viktor called as he and Yuuri carried in the drinks for the girls, along with a plate of homemade cookies, and he began to dole out the treats to a resounding cheer, which made Viktor's smile broaden.

“I love this, you know,” Yuri murmured to Otabek as he watched Viktor and Yuuri hand out the before-bed sweets. “This whole family thing. I love it. Even when I'm plotting the murder of our kids, I still...all this, it's so good.”

“I know that you do, baby,” Otabek replied softly as he pressed a kiss to Yuri's temple, and the omega turned to kiss his mate properly. “It's obvious how much you adore them, even when you want to kill them.”

“I can't wait to see Minami and Aran tomorrow,” Yuri said, “was he doing okay when you left?”

“Phichit never left his side, and Aran was nursing when I headed home,” Otabek replied. “Aside from when he was first born, he's a quiet baby. Phichit was bragging about it practically the whole time.”

“Compared to all the little demons we have running around here, I can't exactly blame him for bragging,” Yuri muttered, causing Otabek to snort softly.

That night, very much like Christmas Eve, all the kids were eager to go to bed, anxious as they were for the next day to come in order to meet the newest member of their family—especially Helina, who had belatedly realized that the addition of Aran meant that she was no longer the youngest.

“I'm not the baby anymore, am I?” she asked curiously as Yuri scooped her up and placed her into her bed, and she gathered her plush bear close to her chest as she stared up at her mother.

“No you're not, love,” Yuri said as he sat down on the edge of her ocean-themed comforter and petted her hair lightly. “How do you feel about that?”

“I dunno...Hana said ever-one ferdot about her when you had me. Will you fordet about me when the baby comes home?”

“You will always be my baby, Helina,” Yuri murmured as he kissed her forehead. “No one could ever make me forget you.”

“I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby.”

~*~

After story time and a final kiss goodnight, Yuri and Otabek switched rooms, with Otabek going to see Helina, and Yuri to Alvinia.

Alvinia was lying on her side under a comforter covered with dinosaurs, her plush cat Kisa in her arms, and she smiled a little when she saw her mother step inside.

“Hey, Trouble,” Yuri said teasingly as he moved over to her bed, and she giggled a little.

“Hi, Mat`,” she replied. “I'm not so tired yet, but I want tomorrow to come so I can hold the baby. Will tomorrow still come even if I never sleep?”

“Tomorrow always comes,” Yuri replied as he reached out to run his fingers through his daughter's dark, glossy hair, crimped and creased from the braid it had been in all day. “But you should probably try and sleep—when you don't, your body doesn't like it, and I don't think you want to feel all funky for when you see the baby tomorrow.”

“I'm the biggest big sister,” Alvinia said proudly, “I'm even biggerer than the triplets, even though they're oldest. I'll protect the baby from all the bad stuff, even if he's a boy.”

“I'm a boy,” Yuri pointed out, “and so is your Äke.”

“But you can't help it.”

“And the baby can?”

“Äke said babies is like...like Play-Dough.”

“They are, but that doesn't mean they can decide if they're a boy or a girl. It's just nature. Aran can't help that he was born that way—it's not his fault, so it wouldn't be fair to make him feel bad about it.”

“Then...how come Minami-oji and you and Yuuri-oji all feel bad?”

“Bad about what?”

“About being omegas,” Alvinia explained, “I hear you sometimes...you saying it's so bad to be an omega...or something. If you can't help it, how come you feel bad?”

Out of the mouths of babes, I swear...Yuri thought with a soft chuckle as he leant in and kissed Alvinia's cheek.

“We'll talk about it later, all right? We've all had a busy day, and now you need to sleep.”

“D'you promise we'll talk about it later?”

“Yes, love, I promise.”

~*~

Yuri sat with Alvinia a while longer, then after checking her closet and under her bed for monsters, Yuri traipsed back downstairs where the others were all watching Fried Green Tomatoes. Yuri was happy to cuddle up with Otabek, who offered him a kiss before pulling him close and draping the checked blanket over both their legs. Neither Yuri nor Otabek said anything—after so many years, there was nothing that needed to be said, and they happily relaxed for one of the last peaceful evenings they were likely to have before the baby came home.

When the credits began to roll, Yuri reluctantly extricated himself from Otabek's warmth with a soft sigh as he said, “I think I'll head to bed, it's been a long day, and the kids are gonna be wired tomorrow. Have we decided on what time we'll be going?”

“I thought around noon, but Phichit-kun promised to text me to let me know how Minami-kun's feeling tomorrow,” Yuuri replied from his spot on the sofa with Viktor, apparently quite content to stay put for the time being. Otabek, on the other hand, stood up, and Viktor eyed him incredulously.

“This isn't an office party, Otabek,” Viktor pointed out, “just because one person leaves doesn't mean we all have to.”

“And snuggling with my lovely, limber, and nubile mate beats making idle chitchat with you two any night of the week,” Otabek quipped. “Nighty night.”

“All these years and you're still so mean,” Yuuri whined as Yuri chuckled and reached for Otabek's hand.

“Which means he must be my soulmate,” Yuri replied without missing a beat, causing the other couple to snort as he and and Otabek meandered towards the stairs.

The pair bond went through their nightly routines in relative silence, and after pulling on their pyjamas and sliding into bed—careful to not dislodge Potya, who was napping on the end—but instead of reaching for his book as was usual for Otabek these days, instead the alpha tugged Yuri close and kissed him gently.

“What was that for?” Yuri asked as he reached up to twine a lock of dark hair between his fingers. “Not that I mind, but...well, you usually only kiss me like that when you have bad news.”

“It's not exactly bad news,” Otabek hedged, “but my therapist keeps telling me to be as open and honest with you as possible, but I think it's something you might react to badly, which is understandable, so I thought I should tell you ahead of time...”

“Tell me what, exactly? Just be clear and you'll know pretty quick if I'll react badly to it or not.”

“Well, while I was at the hospital...well, you see, the thing is...they tested Aran for his secondary sex status, and he's...he's an omega.”

“Oh, um...I see,” Yuri replied awkwardly, running a hand over his face as he took a breath and tried to process what he was feeling.

“Yura, this isn't Russia,” Otabek said firmly. “No one is going to take him away or hurt him. He's safe, you're safe, Yuuri is safe, and Minami is safe. None of you will be hurt for what you were born as.”

“I know that,” Yuri said grumpily as he cast a glare towards his partner, “but he'll still be treated differently for what he is, and we can't...we can't change it.”

“But you can prepare him, and protect him,” Otabek said as he began to gently stroke Yuri's hair. “That kid will have not one, but three omega mothers who can tell him how to keep himself safe. I can't imagine an omega child growing up in a more accepting and loving home than this one. No matter what happens, I know that he'll be safe and loved.”

Yuri sighed as he pressed his cheek to the side of Otabek's chest. As an alpha, he wouldn't be able to understand the terror that Yuri now felt at the prospect of the little boy that would grow up in such a world that did not want him, save for his procreation abilities.

Otabek ran a hand down Yuri's back in a vain attempt to comfort him. Otabek would never be able to understand why Yuri was so deeply affected by this news, and why Minami and Yuuri, by extension, would feel it too.

Yuri tried to sleep, but rest did not come for a long time.

~*~

The following morning was so chaotic that Yuri had little time to dwell on the news that Otabek had given him the previous night. It was filled with morning baths, the braiding or styling of hair, toast and eggs, orange juice in sippy cups, and a general excitement, for today the kids got to meet their new baby cousin.

With coffees in hand, the four adults loaded the kids into the van and drove off, stopping at a doughnut shop (much to the kids' excitement) on the way, to pick up some celebratory treats for Phichit and Minami.

“None until we get to the hospital,” Yuri said sternly, and the kids all let out a collective groan.

“You're no fun anymore, Dyédya,” said Viktoria.

“Can't we just...share one little one now?” asked Antonia.

“Burma!” screamed Hana suddenly, and all heads swivelled towards the four-year-old.

“Why'd you say Burma?” Yuri asked bemusedly.

“I don't know.”

From the front seat, both Yuuri and Viktor snorted, causing Hana to grin wildly as they headed for the hospital, all of the kids still trying to convince Yuri to let them have a doughnut, but the omega wouldn't budge, much to the dismay of the children.

The family made it to the hospital without further issue, and as they stepped inside, Yuri holding onto Alvinia and Helina's hands, Otabek supporting the box of doughnuts and spicy buffalo wings (the box of which now read, it's a boy!) and Viktor and Yuuri holding onto two kids each, they all ran into a familiar face.

“Hi, Doctor Boobie!” Alvinia chirped at the sight of her, and the Pediatrician's face turned a blotchy red as the adults just barely managed to hold in their snickers.

“That's Doctor Rudy, Avi,” Otabek said, and the woman smiled weakly as Alvinia continued to grin, and threw out her free arm for the doctor to see.

“Look, look! See? All better!”

“Yes, I can see that,” the doctor said with a small smile. “No more broken bones for you, right?”

“Uh huh,” she replied. “We're going to see Leung Phichit and Minami-oji today. He had his baby yesterday!”

“Oh, how exciting,” she said warmly, “are you going to be a good big sister to the baby?”

“Uh huh. He's a boy, but Mat` says he doesn't mean to be, so I'll be good.”

“There's a good girl,” she said, while Yuri offered her an apologetic smile, and the doctor shook her head dismissively while they parted ways. It hadn't been the first time Alvinia had called her Doctor Boobie, after all.

“Who wants to push the elevator buttons?” Viktor asked as they slowed to a stop in front of the hallway filled with four elevators, and predictably all the kids began shouting at once. “Quiet, quiet! Hospital Zone, no shouting!”

“Otets?” Hana asked.

“Yes, love?”

“Whas a Hopital Zoom?”

“It means you have to be quiet, because people come here to get better, and they can't if you make lots of noise.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, let's pick some elevator pushers scientifically,” Viktor continued as though there had been no interruption, and he raised his hand, booping Alvinia on the nose, making her giggle.

“Dip, dip, dip,” he began, pointing at a different child every time he spoke, “my little ship, sails on the ocean, you are—it,” as he finished the rhyme, his finger fell on Helina, who began to grin. “Okay, Helina, you can push the button!”

“Yaaaay!” Helina cried, and Yuri chuckled as he picked her up, and she smacked the UP elevator button as hard as she possibly could.

Inside the elevator, Viktor repeated the very scientific child-picking method, and Viktoria got to select the Maternity Ward's floor, though she pressed the button much more gently than Helina had. The girls all let out tiny squeaks of excitement when the elevator doors let out a soft ding before they slid shut.

Curiously, after Viktor's Hospital Zone talk, all the kids managed to keep relatively quiet—that is, until they made it to Minami's recovery room.

Minami was sitting up with little Aran in his arms, still looking exhausted, but more relaxed than yesterday. The girls each let out their own excited squeal, and at the same moment, Phichit pressed a finger to his lips.

“The baby is sleeping,” he said softly, “so you have to stay quiet, okay?”

The girls' mouths all snapped shut as they nodded, while Viktor began to push chairs closer to Minami, and Phichit motioned for the children to come forward, and they all sat on the edges of the bed, looking in on the sleeping baby curiously.

“How come his face is all squishy?” Helina asked, her brow pinched with curiosity as she gazed at the infant.

“He's a new baby,” Minami replied softly, “as he gets older, his face will get less squishy. All new babies look like this.”

“Mama?” Helina turned to where Yuri had sat down, “did I look squishy?”

“The squishiest,” Yuri replied with a chuckle, and her little face brightened as he turned back to look at the baby.

“Helina?” Minami asked, “do you want to hold him?”

“Oh, I don't—” Otabek began, but Minami shook his head a little.

“She's a big girl, I'm sure she can do it.”

“Watch his head, just in case,” Yuri warned while Helina nodded excitedly, and Viktor hastily got his phone out to snap a picture.

Minami nodded, and turned to the three-year-old. He held out the baby, and gently instructed her on how to hold him and support his head, and Helina beamed when Minami said, “good!” as she held him in her arms.

“I can...I could be the one to take care of him sometimes,” she said hopefully as she gazed up at Minami, “like when you need to have a nap?”

“Of course you can, Helina,” Minami said warmly, and Helina grinned again.

The first (and more precarious) round of Pass the Baby began, with each of the children getting a turn to hold Aran. It was going rather well, at least until the baby got to Hana, who instead of passing the baby to someone else, promptly proclaimed, “I'm done!” as she dropped him in her lap.

With a small yelp, Minami scooped Aran back up, but the baby—thankfully—had managed to survive the ordeal. After that, peace once more descended upon the group.

That was, until Alvinia got her turn, and Aran promptly began to cry.

“He hates me!” Alvinia cried dramatically as the other girls giggled, and Minami reached out to take the baby back, and Alvinia promptly crawled into Yuri's lap with tears in her eyes.

“He doesn't hate you, baby,” Yuri said as he rubbed her back consolingly, “he's probably just hungry, or has a wet diaper. A crying baby doesn't mean he hates you.”

“He's hungry,” Minami filled in as Alvinia continued to sniffle, and both mother and child looked up to see Minami holding Aran to his chest and smiling at her. “He doesn't hate you, sweetheart. Once he's finished eating, you can try holding him again.”

Alvinia nodded, but it seemed as though she was reluctant to try again. Yuri held onto her and continued to rub her back, but she still looked positively devastated for making the newborn cry.

“Okay, Avi,” Minami said as he finished feeding and burping the baby, “wanna try again?”

Still sniffling a little, she nodded, but would not move from her mother's lap. Minami tried to shift closer, but hissed in pain. Alvinia's eyes widened, but before she could say a word, Phichit swept in and  took to the task of transporting baby Aran from Minami to Alvinia. This time he did not cry, but let out a tiny gurgle of contentment as Alvinia held him carefully, her eyes wide with awe.

“He's so little, Mat`,” Alvinia said softly, while Yuri reached out to touch the baby's chubby cheek. “Was I this little when I was a baby?”

“Littler,” Yuri replied with a warm chuckle, and offered his daughter a little squeeze, making her giggle. “You were always my perfect little girl, just as Aran is Minami and Phichit's perfect little boy.”

“Am I perfect too, Mama?” Helina asked, and both Yuri and Otabek laughed out loud.

“Yes, baby, you're perfect too.”

“D'you want a turn with the baby, Mat`?” Alvinia asked softly, “you haven't had a turn yet.”

“I'd love a turn,” Yuri replied, and held out his arms, chuckling a little as Alvinia instructed him on how to hold the infant, and he followed her every direction diligently before the little mother hen finally handed Aran over, and Yuri gazed down at the little baby omega in his arms with a bittersweet smile.

“Hello there,” Yuri whispered as he felt his voice catch, and he supported the infant in one arm while he wiped his eyes with his free hand. He felt Otabek step up behind him, and he rubbed his back while Yuri rocked the baby gently. “You have such a great life ahead of you, little one...so many people who love you, and in a place where you'll never be hated, or imprisoned, or hurt for what you are. You're safe. And though I still worry for you, I know that you'll be loved and supported no matter what, because we all love you, and...you'll never have to be afraid to be yourself.”

Otabek kissed Yuri's cheek from behind as he held the baby, still rocking Aran gently.

“That's good advice,” Otabek murmured as he wrapped an arm around Yuri and rested his head on his omega's shoulder as he gazed down at the infant. “He'll be loved and kept safe, no matter what.”

“I used to feel like safety wasn't real,” Yuri murmured, softly enough that the children nearby weren't likely to hear. “It was just...lies we tell ourselves so that we don't feel so scared all the time, but that's not true, is it? We really are safe.”

“We are,” Otabek replied as he shifted, one hand moving to Yuri's chin, and he coaxed his head up until their lips met in a gentle kiss. “And we always will be.”

The End

A/N: And Scene. Thank you guys so much for reading <3 If you like my work, consider throwing a few bucks in my Digital Tip Jar, every penny is appreciated! (especially cuz today is my birthday :P)

NLMG Masterpost

#otayuri #otayuri omegaverse #otayuri abo #otayuri fic #otayuri fic rec

[theworstbob]

yellin’ at songs, 5.27.2017 & 5.26.2007

the songs that debuted on the billboard hot 100 this week and this week ten years ago

5.26.2007

32) "Straight to the Bank," 50 Cent

There's actually something interesting at the core of this song -- if you make enough money doing your thing to sustain yourself for the rest of your life, what motivates you to keep doing your thing? I understand why 50 Cent wasn't willing to explore that theme, 50 Cent isn't here to offer a treatise on ennui and what creative fulfillment means to him, he's here to point at stacks of money and claim ownership. I think "I've made so much money I don't have to rap anymore" would be a fun twist on the "WE DEFIED INSURMOUNTABLE ODDS TO MAKE OODLES OF CASH!" song. It would've been a weird-ass 50 Cent song, but someone should take that theme and run.

48) "First Time," Lifehouse

See, like, at least 50 had the decency to give us the nugget of a decent song, to present something with a hint that it could be something more. This just is what it is, an alternative/rock song that sounds like a thousand alternative rock songs before it with nothing to say except "love feels nice." But I'm in a weird spot where I'm not sure if I'm reacting to the actual song, or if I'm reacting to the idea of Lifehouse and all the connotations I've attached to the Lifehouse brand. I keep wondering: if this song or something like this made it to the 2017 song, would I find it a refreshing throwback? If some long-forgotten mid-aughts alt-rock track, The Calling's "Our Lives" or whatever, if that found new life amidst the EDM and pop/trap, wouldn't it seem like a fun change of pace, an actual almost-rock song instead of the usual novelty indie track? I'm pretty sure this song is bad, but it might be because being weighed against history means being weighed against the titans, whereas the standards are different (lower) for modern songs, because there's a more limited pool to draw from (five months, as opposed to all of history). Hard to tell if I'm judging this song or the context in which this song is released. We need a control for 2017. America: are you finally ready to give Tonic that second chance?

52) "Anonymous," Bobby Valentino ft./Timbaland

I'm no expert, but I'm reasonably confident that, if you're tryna get with someone, and they don't tell you your name, that means they don't want to fuck you. I don't think you're being #problematic, but I do think you need to do better at picking up on signals, Bobby. They're not even giving you a FAKE name! It's so easy to give a fake name! "My name's Jamie." Took me two seconds. IT'S SO EASY! If they're not even willing to do that, they just want you to stop talking to them! You're not being #problematic, that would be a bridge too far, but you need to do a better job of picking up signals. You can't make a song about how you can't even get someone to tell you their name. They rejected you, dude. Move on. (Maybe if it were the next day, when you spent a night dancin' and romancin' but they left before anything sexy could happen, and you're trying to track them down but can't find them because you can't remember their name? That'd be a cool thing! This legit sounds like dude doesn't know someone said 'no,' and not in a shitty "I heard yes!" Robin Thickey way, just a dunderheaed boy-just-don't-get-it way.)

72) "Tambourine," Eve

The least 2007 could do after shoving Timbaland down my throat was give me a Swizz chaser. I greatly enjoyed this! One gets why this song fell from the consciousness, it's a jam but it's not the song that gets the party started, y'know? And like all songs named after an instrument, there is not enough of the titular instrument in the track. I don't necessarily want it to sound like a second grade band performance, but I should have heard more tambourine than I did. But, yeah, hot party jam, always down for a well-executed version of a song with simple goals.

79) "Same Girl," R. Kelly & Usher

This song is fun, it's a foundational block of my relationship with my older sister, and it wasn't worth however many lives it cost to keep R. Kelly's name alive in our hearts.

83) "Vulnerable," Secondhand Serenade

more like glove-compartment admittance. for all i know, secondhand serenade probably actually did get big on myspace and i'm about to accurately describe this song, but this sounds like some fucking dude made a song in 20 minutes using his computer, uploaded it to myspace, and spent 4 hours picking out the right picture of him looking forlorn to put on his profile. you can hear the label executives looking at his picture and agreeing he's an 8, which is perfect -- hot enough to induce swooning, but just enough of an uggo to be approachable, impossible. ...oh no. oh no oh no it got me it got me run it got me you have to run you have to RUN BEFORE YOU CATCH IT TOO.

85) "I Don't Wanna Stop," Ozzy Osbourne

GOD YOU JUST DON'T APPRECIATE HOW AWFUL BUTTROCK IS UNTIL YOU LISTEN TO A REAL-ASS ROCK SONG. Ozzy was fucking 60 and swinging this sledgehammer. This fucking ruled. Remember that Bon Jovi nonsense from last week? THIS is how you do a late-career single. You fucking just remind people you've been doing this shit for 40 years by making a song you can only write with 40 years of experience under your belt. I heard the Bon Jovi song, I just heard a song. I heard this song, I heard Ozzy, I heard Zakk Wylde, I heard years of accrued expertise and experience, I heard fucking character, dude. I'm not even a metal dude, and I'm fucking into this song. This was great. Later, Breaking Benjamin. I can't in good conscience have your lilly ass in the Top 20 if you're gonna say you're in the same genre as this creature.

91) "Like This," MIMS

This is somehow the second track called "Like This" that 2007 has given us. The official music video for this song starts off with the hook for "This Is Why I'm Hot," because I guess the video is trying to give us what we really want. He also mentions "This Is Why I'm Hot" in the first verse, which, that's a bold move, to reference your hit in the second single. It's either swag, because you recorded both songs years ago and knew "This Is Why I'm Hot" would smash so hard that you wanted to give a shout-out to its inevitable success on the album, or it's safety, because you hurried this follow-up out the door and needed to mention the one thing you're ever gonna do. Either way, this song is mediocre 2007 pop/rap. It's as boring and listless as you would imagine the other MIMS song would be.

92) "teachme," Musiq Soulchild

This song about a man admitting that his confinement to traditional gender roles has made him emotionally unavailable and stunted would probably play a lot better in 2017 than I assume it did in 2007. I don't remember this song being that big a thing, but in 2017? Apart from being thrilled that someone in an R&B song is emoting, we'd also be stoked for a song that tacitly acknowledges toxic masculinity. This was pleasant! Musiq Soulchild dropped a song about fuck buddies and another song about the role gender norms played in his emotional upbringing, and I've appreciated all he's done!

94) "I Told You So," Keith Urban

OK this week's a pretty hot one for 2007. This is the fourth jam of the week, already quadruple the amount of jams I thought this week would have, and we haven't even gotten to the song I'm figuring is gonna be a jam. I forgot that sometimes country dude songs could have character! This song has a dope-as-hell instrumental break, an entirely reasonable amount of stops, and hey: Keith Urban? Pretty decent singer! This was rad. I keep forgetting "Alyssa Lies" exists, but were it not for that, this would be the lead contender for Least Worthless Country Dude song. Hell, I might even upgrade the title to "Most Acceptable Country Dude Song," since this and "Alyssa Lies" were both pretty great.

95) "Impacto," Daddy Yankee ft./Fergie

Oh. Oh no. Oh no! ...Oh, oh, I forgot. I forgot Daddy Yankee was once Very Bad. Oh, no. This is -- nothing about this is good. This is someone shouting over a beat that is also, somehow, shouting. I. I am going to stop writing this capsule? Because the longer I am writing about this song, the longer I am making myself thinking about this song, and I just, I'd like to very much not do that anymore.

98) "Get Me Bodied," Beyonce

DO YOU HEAR THIS SHIT, MIMS. THIS IS HOW YOU REFERENCE YOUR DEBUT SINGLE. You wait until you have an impressive catalogue of hits and an unassailable career, and THEN, you can shout out your debut single. Hey everyone did you guess which song I epected to be a jam? TURNS OUT I WAS RIGHT. The vocal work on this track is outstanding, like even for a Beyonce song it's ridiculous, there's a couple things Bey does on this track that made me laugh in disbelief. This is probably not even one of the 20 best songs in the extended Beyonce universe, and I'm still riding hard for it.

99) "All Good Things (Come to an End)," Nelly Furtado

so by this logic this song should have lasted forever OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHah we have fun here, but no this song was boring. like i know i have a tendency to check out with the last song of the week for both years, but i think it's justified in this case, because seriously it's timbaland and coldplay on the track, nah dude, i got cheers to watch.

The 2007 Top 20! Beyonce! Ozzy! 18 other songs you’ve been seeing for a while! 20) "Movin' On," by Elliott Yamin (3.17.2007) 19) "U + Ur Hand," by P!nk (1.13.2007) 18) "Doe Boy Fresh," by Three 6 Mafia ft./Chamillionaire (1.20.2007) 17) "Get Me Bodied," by Beyonce (5.26.2007) 16) "I Don't Wanna Stop," by Ozzy Osbourne (5.26.2007) 15) "Stolen," by Dashboard Confessional (4.21.2007) 14) "Beautiful Liar," by Beyonce & Shakira (3.31.2007) 13) "Cupid's Chokehold," by Gym Class Heroes ft./Patrick Stump (1.13.2007) 12) "The River," by Good Charlotte ft./M. Shadows & Synyster Gates (2.10.2007) 11) "Say OK," by Vanessa Hudgens (2.17.2007) 10) "Alyssa Lies," by Jason Michael Carroll (1.13.2007) 9) "Never Again," by Kelly Clarkson (5.12.2007) 8) "Get Buck," by Young Buck (4.14.2007) 7) "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going," by Jennifer Hudson (1.13.2007) 6) "Thnks fr th Mmrs," by Fall Out Boy (4.28.2007) 5) "Candyman," by Christina Aguilera (1.13.2007) 4) "Because of You," by Ne-Yo (3.17.2007) 3) "Umbrella," by Rihanna ft./Jay-Z (4.28.2007) 2) "Dashboard," by Modest Mouse (2.17.2007) 1) "The Story," by Brandi Carlile (4.28.2007) Almost at a point where we can do Top 30s for each year! I don’t know why I comment after the list but here we are!

5.27.2017

64) "Malibu," by Miley Cyrus

This is a song where you have to be at least somewhat invested in the arc of Miley Cyrus' career for it to have maximum emotional impact, and I'm not, I'm very not interested in Miley Cyrus' journey or personal growth. Like, yay, the rich kid finally sobered up and is finally ready to accept the rest of their life with the vast fortune they have accrued, hooray for them, I'm glad something good finally happened to Miley Cyrus.

79) "Every Time I Hear That Song," by Blake Shelton

Oh good a country song about a different and better country song. Always a welcome addition to a chart, this type of song. Four people wrote this song. How does it take four people to listen to The Bro Country Song and say, "Let's do that again!" It's just, I have to come up with something relatively new to say about the same fucking country dude song every week, and meanwhile these four chucklefucks get to rhyme "mind" with "time" and call themselves PROFESSIONAL writers. Life's not fair.

89) "Either Way," by Chris Stapleton

"Baby, you can go or you can stay/But I won't love you either way." fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk THIS was that chris stapleton shit i was lookin' for a couple weeks back. i haven't had time to get to from a room yet, not sure if i should do vol. i now or take it in with vol. ii, but god damn, this is what a country song is. this is pain, laid bare and unvarnished, nothing but a guitar between you and this dude's voice, which, i mean, chris stapleton is as born to sing country songs as kendrick is to rap, as beyonce is to sing anything beyonce desires. this is just a solid fucking song, and the entirety of nashville should feel endless shame for thinking anyone else should have had this song.

97) "Drinkin' Problem," by Midland

This was what I was talking about when I was talking about Lifehouse! This song is kind of a throwback, but it's only throwing as far back as Toby Keith, yet even doing an imitation of Toby Keith's occasional dad-humor songs feels so good, feels so right, feels so unlike the bro country song that it counts as a zag for country music. This is a song with clear, discernible influences, for which success seems like a happy accident and not the result of piloting the world's most efficient country hit-making engine! Maybe there's a chance I would find this trite and corny when weighed against the entirety of country music -- and honestly, being the country dude song following Chris Stapleton on the chart, hoof, that I didn't think this sucked should prolly give me a clue as to how great this song really is -- but given that Sam Hunt nothinged his way to the top of this world, I'm willin' to be down with this song.

Top 20! 20) "Heatstroke," by Calvin Harris ft./Young Thug, Pharrell Williams & Ariana Grande (4.22) 19) "Yeah Boy," Kelsea Ballerini (3.4) 18) "You Look Good," by Lady Antebellum (4.22) 17) "The Heart Part 4," by Kendrick Lamar (4.15) 16) "Selfish," by Future ft./Rihanna (3.18) 15) "Slide," by Calvin Harris ft./Frank Ocean & Migos (3.18) 14) "Now & Later," by Sage the Gemini (2.25) 13) "DNA." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 12) "It Ain't Me," by Kygo x Selena Gomez (3.4) 11) "Craving You," by Thomas Rhett ft./Maren Morris (4.22) 10) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars (3.4) 9) "Chanel," by Frank Ocean ft./A$AP Rocky (4.1) 8) "Either Way," by Chris Stapleton (5.27) 7) "Run Up," by Major Lazer ft./PARTYNEXTDOOR & Nicki Minaj (2.18) 6) "Green Light," by Lorde (3.18) 5) "ELEMENT." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 4) "Despacito," by Luis Fonsi ft./Daddy Yankee (2.4) 3) "Issues," by Julia Michaels (2.11) 2) "iSpy," by KYLE ft./Lil Yachty (1.14) 1) "Hard Times," by Paramore (5.13) Yo, look at “Despacito,” toppin’ the chart! I might have to actually listen to the remix. BUT THE ORIGINAL IS SO GOOOOOOOD THO. I don’t want to listen to Justin Bieber.

Who won?

2007. Great as “Either Way” was, 2007 just had more songs at a more consistent level. Like, “Either Way” is at least half a street ahead of “Get Me Bodied,” but “Drinkin Problem” doesn’t hold a candle to “I Don’t Wanna Stop,” and the other two 2017 entries aren’t worthy of mentioning alongside “teachme.” Easy W. Didn’t think it’d happen, but hey, 2007 was pleasantly surprising! Next week... I see what 2007 has for me next week. Gonna take a huge fuck-up from 2017 to even things up for ol’ 2007. Two Linkin Park songs. Two of them. Guh.

2017: 5 2007: 4

[sheeperzzz]

Okay the thing I wanted to do is taking longer than expected so here's a Pink!Ben drawing for the meantime

Not even a real proper drawing of him, just some concept art for some of his clothes (He's basically a Ben that loves fashion)

#ben 10 #art #pink ben #doodle #fucking alternative universes have me in a chokehold #Pink is definitely not my favorite Ben what're you talking about