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spdrwdw · 2 months

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hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic

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versethetic · 1 month

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another form of validation

i used to be one of those people scrolling and scrolling and scrolling on tumblr or twitter or wtvr reading abt loassum whenever i got the chance. a lot of the times now it’s just cause i like reading what others have to say, simply taking the information as what it is and moving on.

a form of observing.

but a while ago i’d do it because i wanted to have that epiphany. you all know what im talking about…

that one post or blog that would magically grant me the one true knowledge i seek to manifest whatever i wanted. thinking maybe another post would be the one. another blog would somehow make it all click in my head. i eventually scrolled so much i saw posts that spoke on validating yourself.

whenever you want to check the 3d mirror for any weight loss, see your db in the mirror in your imagination. when you wanna check how much money you have in the 3d, see your constant flow of money in your imaginary bank account. when you are worrying about what your sp is up to or who they’re hanging out with, see you and your sp together in your mind falling in love.

my main epiphany was that i could simply be my own epiphany

my own validation, i could see my own “3d” in my head and have my own posts and blogs that tell me whatever i wanna hear inside my 4d.

i even made a post on here a lil while ago about how blogs can often go back on their own posts because we know and have spewed out all the information needed to do what must be done.

and that’s my message to you. instead of doom scrolling on wtvr app you use to read up on loa, whenever you wanna ask another blog the same questions you’ve had answered for you time and time again, when you feel like you need to read up on those screenshots you’ve saved just to make sure you’re doing it right,

see it in your mind instead.

become used to the idea of being your own validation because that is essentially what gets you all that you want. feed it to yourself and claim it as now. the 3d is your past and the 4d is your present. and you know how they say “don’t live in the past.”

answer your own questions and assume you’re right (cuz you most likely are if you’ve been reading loa stuff for a while), imagine what blogs would tell you about loa and apply it to the rest of your imagination.

impatient? why, you can see your dream life in your present (imagination), forget about the past (3d).

unsure you’re doing it right? uh hello you’re always right. the blogs in your 4d are confirming everything you’re doing so why worry.

the past (3d) getting you down? talk with yourself, meditate, distract your mind, listen to some music, eat some food, go sit in the sun for 5 minutes, anything, and come back and simply accept that your present (4d) is different now.

“but it’s not simple-” make it simple. do not overcomplicate this, it’s all you. catch these thoughts and make even a tiny effort to flip them, it is a process but it has no choice but to play out how you want it.

#loa #law of assumption #loassumption #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #manifesting #manifestation #desired reality #tried to make my own cute pic #how yall like it #pinterest worthy?

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twignotstick · 19 days

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Liar, Liar

Note: The characters in this fic are from @rufwooff 's teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles au. Leo is a salamander, Mikey is a toad/frog, Donnie is a gecko, and Raph is an alligator. It can sort of be read as a rise fic if you ignore the... frog stuff? But there are things that might not make sense without knowledge of the au. This post specifically inspired the fic.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Leo-centric, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Teenage Mutant Ninja Everything-but-Turtles, tmnebt, turtle tots (still unsure abt that one), dialogue written like a child, lying, extremely fluffy, but with a hint of angst

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): nothing, why would i ever hurt kids :)

Words: 4,647

Summary: Leo finally gets to spend a day alone with his little brother, Mikey. When things go wrong, he decides to save himself. After all, what's so bad about a little lie?

----------------------

“Can grow to doo-ble the size in a few… h-owers…”

Leo held the small package he'd found close to his face, trying his best to read what the label said. Donnie had told him it was some kind of toy, but it just looked like a plastic whale to him. Mikey watched Leo from the bowl he was quickly outgrowing, listening intently to Leo's somewhat successful attempt at reading.

“Leave in a cup or bowl of wwwater and watch the magic!” Leo read triumphantly, holding the toy in front of him. The salamander looked over to his little brother. “We just need a cup or something to use it!”

“Wah'der!” Mikey noted wisely, bracing himself on the edge of the glass.

“Right!” Leo nodded, face turning pensive. “But I can't reach any of the cups or bowls in the kitchen, and Dad doesn't want me climbing on stuff anymore…”

“Waphie?” Mikey suggested.

“Raph's busy with Dad cooking dinner. Bo-ring.” Leo sighed. “And Donnie said he was studying today…”

“Hmm…” Mikey hummed, before his eyes lit up. “Bow’!” He squeaked, rocking his bowl side to side. “Bow’! A bow’!”

“No Mikey, we need a-” Leo caught on. “Oh, a bowl. You're a genius, Mikey!”

Mikey squeaked and squealed in response to the praise, wiggling what was left of his tail in the water. “Tank you.”

“Alright then, Mikester. You're gonna have to show off how good you are with those new legs.” Leo wrapped his arms around his baby brother's body, struggling for a moment to get a good grip with both of them having slippery skin, but he eventually hefted Mikey out of the bowl under his armpits and placed him on the stone floor. “This'll be a good oppa-tunity for you! You just gotta stay here while I fill up the bowl the rest of the way, okay?”

“Okie-dokie!” Mikey replied cheerfully, patting his newly grown hands on the floor. They had been fully developed for about a week, but he had yet to do much with them other than waving and clapping.

Taking Mikey's word without any doubt, Leo picked up the half filled bowl and carried it away to the nearby tunnel. Sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to go into the tunnels by himself. And sure, he knew he wasn't supposed to leave Mikey alone when they were playing. But Leo was a big boy! And so was Mikey! Mikey had all of his limbs now! That, Leo didn't exactly understand, because Leo always had all his limbs, just like Raph and Donnie. Mikey was just a ball with a tail and eyeballs. A tadpole, Donnie's voice reminded him. Now Mikey was a toadlet, which meant surely he was grown enough to be on his own for a few minutes.

It wasn't like Leo didn't like spending time with Mikey. He loved watching movies with him, coloring things with him, even chatting with him despite his more limited vocabulary. Mikey just… couldn't play a lot of the games Leo liked to play. Leo liked to move, and Mikey couldn't move a lot. Mikey couldn't play tag, or hide and seek, and he could only play Jupiter Jim if he was playing as Godfred, the Goldfish King. Even then, he was no fun to play with without his royal guards.

Today, Leo got to play with Mikey without supervision, a job usually reserved for his older brothers. It was a total breeze, he had found out, because Mikey was so stationary. Babies were boring, but they were easy.

Leo carried the bowl back, making sure to spill as little of the mildly murky sewer water he had collected as possible, and put it down right next to the toy he had left on the floor. Right next to the puddle where Mikey was sitting before.

Puddle?

“Boys! Come eat!”

“...spit.”

----------------------

Leo walked into the kitchen with a nervous smile on his face, finding that Raph and Donnie were already seated with food in front of them. Both plates were filled with vegetables and meat, and Splinter was preparing two more plates with more of the same.

“Hello, Blue,” Splinter greeted, glancing around Leo's sides. “Where is your brother? I thought he was with you.”

“H-he was! He just got reeeally tired,” Leo lied, swaying on his feet and swishing his tail slowly. “So I tucked him in bed. He was really, indubitably tired.”

“You don't even know what that word means, Leo.” Donnie glared right into Leo's soul, pushing his glasses up as Leo sat down next to him.

“Yes I do! I-it means Mikey was really super tired!”

“Purple, do not be rude to your brother,” Splinter scolded. “If Orange was tired, he should sleep. He is a growing boy. Thank you, Blue, for tucking him in. He can eat later, after he wakes up.” Splinter finished preparing a plate for himself, then sat down next to his sons and began eating. “Did you all enjoy yourselves today?”

Raphael nodded. “I showed Cheech how to beat up the practice dummy right! He wasn't too good at holdin’ Raph's sais though.”

“That is very kind of you, Red. I'm sure that Cheech will improve if you keep training him.” Splinter smiled kindly.

“He won't,” Donnie whispered, leaning into Leo's ear. “Teddy bears can't do ninjutsu.”

“I think Raph can teach him, Raph's good at teaching,” Leo whispered back.

“What about you, Purple?”

Donnie straightened his posture, his tail sticking straight up for a moment, straightening his glasses again. “I actually did some very helpful research using the encyclopedia that Dad found and the book on reptiles we got a while ago.” He looked around at his brothers. “I learned a lot about our different species. I looked pretty closely into toads and frogs so I could talk to Mikey about his current state, but apparently I can't, because he fell asleep at 6 pm.” Donnie side eyed Leo questioningly.

“You can tell him about what you learned tomorrow, Purple,” Splinter said. “I'm sure whatever he and Blue did today was exhausting, was it not?” He asked, redirecting the conversation to Leo.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Leo agreed fervently. “Me and Mike were having so much fun. Like, Mikey was having sooo much fun, he literally passed out! And I put him in bed, like a good big brother!”

“He… passed out?” Raph asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Like, knocked out hard. Totally asleep. And I tucked him in good!”

“In his tub.” Donnie raised a drawn eyebrow.

“That's right!”

“Boys, there is no need to argue about this,” Splinter said with a strained smile as the brothers finished eating and put their plates away in the sink. “We should all be happy for Blue, who has proven himself as a big brother.”

“He's sure proving something, alright…” Donnie murmured with crossed arms.

“You can spend a little more time up, but I want you to get to bed soon as well. Meanwhile, I will be taking this opportunity to take a nice, long shower.” Splinter shook his robed arms, showcasing the small clumps of fur gathering across his body. “This stuff gets oily way faster than you would expect.”

“Don't worry Pops!” Raph said, standing absurdly tall for a child of his age and swishing his unruly tail. “I'll check on Mike, then I'll make sure Leo and Don get to sleep too! You have my word!” Raph tried to hold up a military salute, but he caught his hand on his large jaws and hit his head backwards, tail and arms flailing to make sure he didn't fall. He looked distraught for a moment, before making a show of shaking off the pain to be strong for his dad.

Splinter sighed. “Thank you, Red.”

Leo straightened up, eyes widening as he saw his brothers going toward their room, and dashed over to the sink to drop off his own plate so he could follow. Quickly, would be preferable.

“Blue? May I speak with you?”

Spit.

Leo stood with the most relaxed posture he could muster as he faced his dad, leaning on the countertop behind him with one elbow. “Sure, Pops!”

Splinter kneeled down in front of the salamander. “I wanted to thank you for spending the day with your little brother. I know that he is still unable to do many of the things that you can, but it is good to hear that you included him in your games anyways.”

“Oh,” Leo said, losing his fake nonchalance for a moment. “It… it was no big deal, Dad.”

“I would say it was a big deal, Leonardo.” Splinter placed a paw on Leo's shoulder, smiling softly at his son. “Once Orange hits the growth spurt he is bound to, it will be much more difficult to keep you boys from bouncing off the walls. I am glad to know I can trust you to take care of your little brother.”

Leo's heart dropped in his chest with guilt, but he kept his outward appearance well enough. Internally, he was screaming to run away and stop his brothers from reaching the bedroom. “Of course, Dad. Mikey was actually really really super fun to hang with! Not boring at all! He actually was playing way more than me, and like, he was really cool and stuff. And fun to play with,” he added carefully.

Splinter stood up, cracking his back. “That is great to hear. Now-” he clapped his hands- “to wash the gunk out of this gross fur!”

As soon as Splinter skipped away, Leo fumbled over his feet to rush to the bedroom. He kicked his tail a few times, but ignored it in his frenzy. His brothers were already there! It was over! He would never be trusted again! Not by Raph, not by Donnie (though who really cared about that), and most importantly, not by his dad!

When Leo got to the shared bedroom, he slid on the floor to turn in the doorway as fast as possible, only to find Raph terrifyingly close to Mikey's tank.

“WAIT!”

Both of his brothers looked up at him immediately. Donnie's glare from where he sat on his bed quickly changed from confused to exhausted. “And why, dear Nardo, would Raph need to wait?”

Leo hesitated. “Well, b-because-”

“No, Leo. You've been super suspicious ever since you came to dinner.” Donnie stood up, putting the book he had in his hands down.

“No I haven't!” Leo defended. “I don't even know what that means, so I can't be that.”

“It means you've been acting weird because you're hiding something!” Donnie accused.

“Am not!” Leo defended.

“Yes, you a-”

“Guys!” Raph whispered furiously, catching the other boys’ attention. “If you're gonna fight, do it quiet. Mikey's still asleep.” The oldest brother turned away, not being able to see the despaired expression on Leo's face, and approached Mikey's corner of the room where his small tank sat.

Donnie looked back at Leo with disdain. “Whatever you're hiding, you should just cough it up. Dad doesn't like liars.”

“Well that's great, cause I'm not lying. I'm like, the least liar-est person ever.”

“Uh, Donnie?” Raph asked quietly from his spot by the tank. “Didn't you say Mikey was supposed to mecha-morph-uh.. whatever?”

“Metamorphosis. It's the process through which a tadpole becomes a frog or toad. Commonly associated with frogs and butterflies, which come from caterpillars. And technically, the word would be ‘metamorphose’, in this context.”

“I think he meta-morph-osed into a whale instead…”

Leo held his breath.

“What?” Donnie walked over to the tank, continuing to ramble. “No, he's supposed to metamorphose into a fire bellied toad, not a whale. There's no way that- GASP!” Donnie plunged his hand in the tank, coming back out with an unmistakable item. “You left his bowl in the tank?!”

“What?! I-I don't know how that got there, I swear!” Leo stammered, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

“You said you put Mikey to bed! Mikey isn't here, but his bowl is!” Donnie shouted. “You lied! You lost Mikey!”

“N-no I didn't!”

“Oh yeah? Then how did his bowl get here?”

Leo puffed his cheeks, fuming. “It wasn't even my fault! Mikey said I could use his bowl!”

Raph gasped this time, like a normal person. “You really lost Mikey?”

Leo's anger faltered at the sad face on his big brother. The reality of the situation was finally settling in. “I-I didn't mean to. I just went in the tunnel for one second-”

“You went in the tunnels?!” Raph screamed.

Leo winced. “It was just for like a second, and nothing even happened!”

“Clearly, something did happen,” Donnie interjected, putting the bowl down. “You. Lost. Mikey!”

“I did not! Mikey said-”

“GUYS!” Raph slammed his tail on the ground, scaring his brothers into attention. “Right now, Raph's gonna ignore all the rules you broke. We don't need to fight about who to blame, because Mikey is missing. He could be in danger, or worse, already hurt. We need to find him before Dad finds out.” Raph stepped closer to Leo. “Now, where did you lose Mikey?”

“I didn't lose hi-”

“Mikey was under your supervision. Now he's gone. You lost Mikey,” Donnie said sternly. “Where did you lose him?”

Leo stared down at his feet, then sighed heavily. “It was right by the tunnel entrance, by the toy room. When I came-d back in, there was just a puddle where he was sitting before.”

“A puddle?” Donnie asked.

“Yeah, that's what I just said,” Leo groaned.

“No, that could be a clue. Show us where the puddle was,” Raph urged.

“Uh, okay.” Leo turned around and walked down the hall with his brothers in tow. He couldn't help but feel their eyes glaring into his back, judging him. Hating him for lying. For putting his baby brother in danger.

Maybe he wasn't a good big brother like Dad had said. Mikey was the only little brother he had. How did he screw that up?

They reached the end of the hall, and Leo was surprised to see a little bit of dampness still on the floor, even after almost an hour. “He was right here,” he said, crouching down to look.

“Hm,” Donnie hummed, crouching down as well. “Just as I thought.” He put a finger in the spot on the ground, surprising his brothers when his hand came up with something slimy. “Mikey didn't just leave the water from his bowl, he also left mucous.”

“Mucous? Like, he snotted everywhere?” Raph questioned.

“No, it's not snot. It's mucous. Many frogs and toads produce mucous with glands on their skin that helps keep it moist. In some, it also helps them breathe through their skin,” Donnie explained.

“So, Mikey left his skin snot on the floor,” Leo gathered.

“No. It's mucous, not snot.”

“Hey, look!” Raph pointed to another spot on the floor. “More snot!”

“Follow it!” Leo said, running over to the spot and searching for more.

Donnie pinched the bridge of his snout. “Again, not snot, but okay, we have a lead.”

“Why's it in spots, and not, like, little froggy footprints?” Raph asked, following as Leo spotted more spots.

“It's possible that Mikey figured out how to hop,” Donnie said.

“Ha! So this was worth it!” Leo said, pumping a fist. “I taught Mikey how to hop!”

“Or, you taught him how to hop off a cliff and die. Or hop right into a human's home,” Donnie replied.

“Donnie…” Raph whispered.

Leo didn't respond, instead choosing to keep following the spots. There were a few he saw on the walls, which he noted curiously. They traveled all throughout the lair, slowly becoming more recent. Eventually, the brothers found a place where they entered a door.

The bathroom door, where soft singing could be heard on the other side.

“Aw, spit.”

Raph elbowed Leo's shoulder. “Dad said you shouldn't say that anymore.”

“Why? It's not a bad word. I can say it all I want! Spit, spit, spit-”

“Guys,” Donnie said, “let's worry more about the mucous going into the room where Dad is showering.”

“Oh, right.”

The trio opened the door slowly, getting facefuls of steam that fogged up Donnie's glasses, causing him to back out. Leo and Raph stuck their heads in, surveying the area. Splinter's operatic singing filled their ears, making them wince. However, in the midst of the steam filled bathroom, they spotted what they were looking for.

Mikey was perched on the edge of the sink, looking at the closed shower curtain with wide eyes.

“Mikey!” Leo whispered, getting Mikey's attention and drawing his eyes. “Hey Angelo! Come here, come to Leo!” He held his hands out, beckoning.

Mikey squeaked softly, waving at Leo, then pointing at the shower.

“Nonono, don't go there buddy, hop over here!”

Mikey grinned, then readied himself to jump straight at the curtain.

“MIKEY!”

The clattering of metal and screams of the boys cut off Splinter's singing, as Mikey hopped right onto the curtain and pulled the curtain rod down. Raph pushed past Leo into the room, catching Mikey before he fell to the floor with the curtain.

Splinter, despite being covered with soaked fur, tried to cover himself and turned the shower off. “Boys!? What is the meaning of this?!”

Raph fumbled to keep Mikey in his arms. “Sorry, Pops! Mikey was just-”

Mikey turned around in Raph's arms, reaching out to Splinter. “Hi Daddy!”

“Orange? What are you doing awake?”

“He, uh, he woke up!” Leo said, pushing in front of Raph. “We had to follow him here.”

“Follow him?” Splinter raised an eyebrow.

Raph looked at Leo, unsure.

“Yes?” Leo said nervously.

They all stood still, Leo patting his toe on the floor. He couldn't tell if he was sweating of fear, or if it was just the steam in the room. The tension felt as thick as the steam filled air.

“LEO LOST MIKEY!”

“What?!”

“DONNIE, YOU SNITCH! I DID NOT!”

“YES YOU DID! AND YOU LIED! LEO LIED!” Donnie screamed from outside the room.

“Donnie! Stop being mean to Leo!” Raph said, struggling to keep a hold on the boy in his arms. Mikey wriggled around, bracing his feet on Raph's chest and hopping off, sending himself flying into Splinter's arms while also hitting Raph's jaws shut with a clack and nearly sending Raph falling backwards.

“Orange!” Splinter caught Mikey deftly, checking him over. Then, he looked back up to his other sons. More specifically, at the one who had just been basically slapped by his own jaw. “Red, are you okay?”

Raph grunted, but nodded slowly as he held his snout.

“Good. That was very rude of you, Orange,” he said to the son in his arms. “What do you say?”

“I'm sowwy, Waphie…” Mikey mumbled with innocent eyes. Raph gave a weak thumbs up in response.

“Good job. I'm very proud of you for learning how to jump.” Splinter looked at Leo, who physically shrank.

“I-I swear, I didn't meanta lose him. We were just playing, a-and he said-”

“He can tell me what he said.”

Leo felt tears trying to force their way out behind his eyes.

Splinter sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Red,” he addressed, “make sure your brothers get to bed. With no screens,” he said, shooting a glare at the door.

“I would never!” Donnie scoffed from outside.

“I will come to tuck you in as soon as I am done with my shower. I have a feeling that Orange won't let me go without giving him a good bath, too,” he added, causing Mikey to squeak and laugh in his hold.

“No problem, Pops,” Raph said, walking toward the door.

Leo blinked, confused. Where was his scolding? Where was his slap on the wrist? This couldn't possibly be that bad, right? “B-but I-”

“Go to bed, Leonardo.”

Leo shut up fast, swallowing all of his tears and excuses. He followed Raph glumly out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Raph was standing outside with a concerned look on his face, while Donnie wore a smirk.

“I told you Dad doesn't like liars.”

Leo walked past, trying to get to the bedroom with as little eye contact as possible. Raph reached to grab his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked faster. Donnie's words echoed in his head.

Dad didn't like liars. Leo was a liar. Dad was the one that took care of them.

He could kick Leo out.

He'd have to live in the tunnels. Or maybe, Dad wouldn't let him live in the tunnels. He'd have to live on the surface, with the humans. The humans who wanted to catch him. Who wanted to pull him apart to see what he was made of and then piece him back together to see what he could do. He would die without his dad. He didn't want to live without his dad. Without his brothers. Without Mikey. Because he did love Mikey, even if he lied. At least he thought so.

Maybe Dad wouldn't care now. Maybe Dad didn't love him now. Leo was a liar. Dad doesn't like liars. Why would he?

Leo flopped into his bed as soon as he reached it, pulling the covers over himself and turning in to face the wall. Raph attempted to talk to him, but Leo only curled up tighter, pulling his tail up so far he could see it in front of his face.

Eventually, Raph gave up. Leo heard him softly scolding Donnie, but tried to ignore it as silent tears fell off his cheeks.

Just when he thought he was about to fall asleep, Leo heard the bedroom door opening. He wiped his face and turned slightly, seeing Splinter walk first to Donnie's bed, then to Raph's, before finally coming toward Leo's.

He noticed Mikey sitting in the doorway, who waved when he caught Leo's eyes. Leo waved back slowly.

Splinter kneeled by Leo's bedside, just like he would any other night to tuck him in. Usually, this would bring Leo warmth and comfort, reminding him that his father loved him. This time, Leo couldn't fight the sense of dread that filled his chest, making it feel like he was breathing something heavier than air. He wasn't getting tucked in. He didn't deserve that anymore. He was a liar.

Dad doesn't like liars.

His father's eyes seemed to see right through him. “I am very upset with you, Leonardo.”

Leo tensed, but kept looking at Splinter.

“I am not upset that you lost track of your brother. You are a child, and I cannot expect you to be perfect. Do you know why I am upset?”

Leo nodded slowly, then mumbled, “Because I lied…”

“Exactly. It is because you lied. You could have told me as soon as it happened, and I would have helped you look for him. Instead, you lied and put your brother at even more risk. You could have fessed up when I saw Michelangelo in the bathroom. But yet, you still didn't. You didn't admit to your own fault. It took Donatello telling me for you to finally confess. And even then, you tried to rid yourself of all guilt.”

Leo sniffed, tearing up again. “Are you gonna kick me out?”

Splinter's eyebrows raised in shock. “What? No, I will not kick you out. Why would I ever do something so horrible?”

Something shattered.

“But… but I lied! I hurt Mikey! I-I'm a bad brother!” Leo's tears started flowing openly.

“No, no, Blue, you are okay. Shh…” Splinter rubbed his hand across Leo's face, wiping a tear away.

Leo sniffled and hiccuped, holding onto the back of Splinter's hand and softly sobbing. “I'm sorry, Dad, I-I didn't want to…”

Splinter rubbed his son's cheek, hushing him quietly. “I know. But that does not change what you did.” He looked deeply into his son's eyes, ensuring he had his full attention. “I forgive you, but this cannot go without punishment. I will not kick you out, and I never would. You are my son. Instead, you will be grounded for a month.”

Leo whined, but nodded. “Okay…”

“However, I believe that taking away the things that bring you joy will not make you learn the lesson that you need to learn. That is why, during this month, you will not be disallowed from doing anything in our home. Do you understand that?”

Leo nodded.

“The only caveat is that you must spend the entire month with your brother, Michelangelo. You will only do things that he wants to do. You will not plant ideas in his head or put words in his mouth. You will only do things that he says he wants to do. If he ever wants to spend time away from you, you will spend that time with me. Do you understand?”

“Mhm.” Leo nodded again.

“Perfect.” Splinter smiled. “I forgive you for this, and I hope that through this grounding period you can regain my trust.”

Leo smiled as well and nodded one last time, wiping one last tear with the heel of his hand. “I hope so too.”

Splinter turned to the doorway and waved Mikey over with his hand. Mikey grinned and hopped over, much quicker than Leo had expected. He stopped at Leo's bedside, slowly using the bed to brace himself as he stood up on shaky legs, then looked at his father.

“Tell Blue what you told me, Orange.”

Mikey wobbled for a second, then looked up at Leo. “I, um, I'm sowwy I went away when you said not go away. And I'm sowwy, um, I jumped at Daddy when you said not to do… And, um, I wwwanted to s'eep in a big boy bed tonight, cause imma big boy now, but I don't got a big boy bed, can I s’eep wi’ you.” Mikey finished the sentence like a statement, not a question, but his intention was clear.

Leo looked for just a second at his dad, who nodded encouragingly, before looking back at his little brother. “Sure, Mike. Hop on up here.”

Mikey did just that, with more force than Leo had expected. “Wow, Angelo, you've really got good legs now!” Leo said, catching Mikey in his arms and helping tuck him into the blankets. Meanwhile, Splinter walked to Mikey's tank and came back with his bowl and a towel.

“Alright, boys. Orange, your bowl will be right here if you need to soak, and your tank will be there if you want it.” Splinter pulled the blanket up, kissing each boy on the forehead. He cringed and wiped his lips after kissing Mikey, making the boy squeak and giggle. “Sleep well, my big boys. I am so proud of you, and I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” both boys chorused. Mikey snuggled into Leo's chest, letting Leo hold him like a stuffed animal. Leo only flinched for a moment at the slimy feeling of Mikey's skin (mucous, not snot).

Splinter walked out of the room, and it was barely even 20 seconds after he heard the door close that Leo heard a whisper coming from beside him.

“I'm sowwy, ‘eo,” Mikey murmured.

Leo looked down at his brother, confused. “You already said sorry. You don't gotta say it again.”

“But I said sowwy then cause Dad said,” Mikey explained. “Now, I said sowwy cause Mikey said.”

“Oh.” Leo settled back in, putting his chin on Mikey's head. “Well, I'm really sorry too. And that's cause Leo said,” he added, smirking.

Mikey giggled and squeezed Leo tightly, wiggling beneath the sheets. In a matter of minutes, the young amphibian had completely fallen asleep, slightly drooling on Leo's pillow. He didn't mind.

Leo grabbed onto Mikey and closed his eyes as well.

He never wanted to let go again.

○●○●○●○

Did I tell myself I would write au comp propaganda? Yes. Did I write a fic about an au completely unrelated to the comp? Yes, and I'm not sorry. I figured since another round finished up today, why not post something?

For real, I've had some insane art block recently, and writing has been keeping me sane. I tried writing propaganda, hated it, then realized, you know what makes me feel better every time? Turtle tots.

In this case, everything-but-turtle tots.

Shoutout to @rufwooff for making one of the most serotonin filled aus I've seen in a while, and fueling my exhaustion-induced writing spree. And go check out @tmntaucompetition! We're getting closer to the end! AAH!

#tmnt #tmnt au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja everything-but-turtles #tmnebt #twig writes

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judeswhore · 1 year

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can u please write something abt stealing jude’s hoodies or just wearing his clothes in general 🫠

this has been in my inbox since DECEMBER and i was clearing it out so i just thought i’d post a little something since i’ve had a lot of people ask

this is kinda short and shit but anyway <3

it had become a somewhat subconscious habit at this point. reaching into jude's wardrobe, fingers automatically finding a piece of clothing that was definitely his, whether it be a shirt, a hoodie, sometimes even a pair of his joggers, and slipping it on without even a seconds thought. you'd stopped asking forever ago, had simply adopted the attitude that his clothes were yours so much so that now you sometimes did forget which things didn't belong to you.

not that jude minded, there was nothing he adored more than seeing you kitted out in his things. his tummy turned to mush and the smile on his face almost hurt whenever he spotted you in one of his hoodies, finger tips just peaking out from the sleeves. he liked it even more when you worked the hoodie he was already wearing, off him, fingers tugging at the hem, pulling and giggling until he was slipping it over his head. before he even had the chance to get excited you were undressing him for other reasons, you were pulling it on yourself, head popping out from the hole with that devious grin, chin tipping down so you could tuck your nose away in the collar and breathe him in.

"how do you keep them so soft?" jude would roll his eyes, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his chest, defeated to the fact he'd most likely lose the hoodie for a while. he'd get it back eventually, when it had lost his scent and it's softness, when you found something else of his you liked more and then the cycle would continue.

your tendency to never wear your own things meant jude wasn't at all surprised when you met him at the airport after his flight back to dortmund, your entire outfit one he was certain he'd wore only days before leaving you. he knew for sure the blue hoodie was his, it was relatively new and he distinctly remembered your chastising tone over how much it had cost. the joggers too he was certain belonged in his drawer, grey and a little washed out, rolled a few times at your ankles to make them fit. despite the distance still between you he had a sneaky feeling that the blue socks on your feet were his too, his head shaking as his lips tilted into a smile.

it was almost 3am and he could tell you were tired, face soft and a little clouded with sleep as though you'd not long since woke up, your body bouncing lazily on the balls of your feet. you hadn't spotted him yet, too busy watching a family reunite with their dad, a hand written card most definitely done by the two little boys being waved in the air.

"you've never shown up with one of those for me." his voice startled you, your look of shock turning quickly to a grin, eyes lighting up as the sleepy expression cleared instantly. you practically launched yourself at him, arms around his neck, face tucked away against his throat and his soft "umph" of surprise vibrated through you. a giggled apology was pressed into his skin, lips warm and comforting. "missed me?"

"maybe just a little." jude dropped his bag to the floor beside you so he could wind his arms around your waist, his head turning so he could press a kiss to the side of yours. he grinned into your hair.

"only a little?"

"mhm."

"you sure? because i'm kind of thinking you've tried to clone me." you untucked your face from the crook of his neck, head tilted back to meet his gaze, brows drawn together in confusion. one of his hands came up and tugged at the drawstring of the hoodie you were wearing, his smirk growing. "i'm sure this belongs to me."

you glanced down, brows smoothing over, lips parting and jude was certain you hadn't even realised what exactly you were wearing. he brushed his fingertips beneath the waistband of the joggers, blew out a breathy laugh when your eyes snapped back to his. "these as well are from my drawer and i'm sure those are a pair of socks your nan got me for christmas." you shuffled your feet and sent him a sheepish smile.

"they're the first things i grabbed."

"yeah?"

"i didn't even realise."

"i think you just missed me too much."

"they were at the top of the laundry pile."

"you can admit it, don't go all shy on me, baby." jude watched your eye roll and grinned, dipped his head to kiss you for the first time, soft and sweet before nudging your nose. his smile only grew wider when you tried to chase his mouth for more, lips turning pouty when he dodged your attempted kisses. "i bet you've raided my entire wardrobe haven't you?"

“have not.”

“what’re you wearing under these?” again the very tips on his fingers dipped into the back of your joggers and he watched your nose scrunch adorably, gaze shifting away from his. you dropped your arms from around his neck and instead pushed them around his waist, pressing into him until your chin was pressed into the front of his shirt. jude grinned and switched positions with you, his arms resting loose over your shoulders.

“your clothes are so much comfier than mine.”

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he cupped your jaw, ducked down and tilted your mouth up to slot softly over his. he kissed you slow, languid drags of his lips against yours until the both of you were breathless. he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, the tip of your nose, forehead last before grinning. he pulled the hood up over your head and twisted the drawstrings around fingers, pulled tight until your face was hidden behind the material.

you groaned loudly, swatted at his chest when he again kissed your nose through the little gap.

“you’re also lucky i think it’s cute when you wear my clothes otherwise you’d owe me thousands for theft.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #sinclaiirs baby blurbs #leigh’s baby blurbs

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sebscore · 1 year

Note

Hey!

Heres my request for ur fem!driver series:

Y/N wins her first race and everyone is waiting for her national anthem to play but somehow an error in the sound system leads to this song playing:

But instead of being mad abt it, she’s ecstatic just absolutely vibes her lil heart out on the podium and soon she has the other drivers, some commentators and the entire crowd joining in w/ her (cuz she’s THAT GIRL🤩😂)

PLEASE RISE FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

pairings: lewis hamilton x driver!reader / charles leclerc x driver!reader

warning: kinda changed how the podium ceremony normally goes, but it's nothing drastic, tbh. they already received their trophy and champagne.

author's note: thank you so much for the request, I started laughing when I read it, cause it reminded me of that one meme. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and lmk what you think of it 🫶

• • • • • • •

Y/N stood proudly on the top step of the podium, full in disbelief that this day had actually come. She had won an Formula 1 race, she had won a Grand Prix. The first woman in history to actually do that.

Charles and Lewis glanced up at her, delighted that they could witness the historical moment from this close. They always had the faith that she could do it one day, that she had the skills to overtake them and cross the checkered flag first.

The time had come for her national anthem to start playing. Her eyes welled up with tears, the patriotic feeling in her rising up and the knowledge she had done her country proud. Y/N had prepared herself and had put tissues in the pockets of her racing suit, knowing she was probably gonna end up sobbing by the time the song had finished.

Only, that moment didn't happen.

There had been a mistake in the sound system and instead of the beautiful harmonies of an orchestra being heard, the opening beats of the hip hop song 'Get Low' by Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz were being played.

It had taken Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what was happening, the frown on her face evident that she was confused. Similar expressions of confusion and shock were found on Lewis, Charles and everyone else's faces.

Y/N briefly glanced at the staff on the side of the podium and the audience anticipated what she would do. The young woman could give one of two reactions. The first reaction would be for her to stay serious and be upset about the fact that her national anthem wasn't being played. Or, she could go along with the situation, and start dancing to the song to make it fun for everyone witnessing the moment.

Obviously, she went for the second option.

It started with the bobbing of her head to the loud beats that were coming out of the speakers, wiping away the tears that had escaped earlier with her hands. Then, she began to mouth the lyrics and the sight only became funnier from there on.

The song wasn't even halfway done or the podium ceremony had become a concert with the female driver as the headlining act. At first, Lewis and Charles had covered their faces in embarrassment, not for the young woman, but simply for the entire situation. Yet, once they saw the crowd getting hyped up, they joined her and started jumping up and down.

Upon seeing their still unopened champagne bottles standing lonely on the podium, Y/N started the fire and began shaking it. As soon as her two colleagues noticed what she was doing, they picked up their own respective bottles and started doing the same.

Eventually, the song ended and the podium ceremony was over, to everyone's dismay. The drivers picked up their trophies and made their way down the grid again for the short post-podium interview.

Y/N had been the first one to come downstairs and Coulthard grabbed that oppurtunity to interview the young woman first.

''Y/N, what's going through your head right now?'' He asked, handing a microphone to her.

Her hand went through her hair, thinking of the right words to say. ''Pff, I don't know, David,'' her voice sounded out of breath, ''I'm still processing what just happened.'' She nervously laughed, public speaking not being her favorite thing to do.

''I think we're all still processing what just happened,'' Coulthard laughed along, ''what went wrong there on the podium?''

She shook her head, looking back at said podium behind her. ''Geez, uh, I think there was a mistake or something with the cd and, uh, yeah, my national anthem started playing.''

Coulthard started a new question, wanting to change the subject, but was interrupted. ''You know, David- I'm very proud of my country, Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz, I know I've made my people proud.'' She joked, making the audience laugh as they listened to the interview.

''That's great, Y/N,'' Coulthard awkwardly replied, just wanting to continue to ask his questions, ''So, about the race…''

''Yes, the race.''

''Talk us through it, how did you feel it was going?''

Y/N nodded her head to David's words. ''The race, uh, the race, it went, uh- listen, I've gotta be honest- I don't remember a thing, but I'm gonna assume I did really well, you know, cause I won.'' She rambled on, genuinely having forgotten all about the competition that had happened earlier.

Lewis, who was standing a few feet away from her, loudly cackled at her answer and his laugh was picked up by the microphone.

''Alright, Y/N, thank you so much and congratulations.'' He padded her shoulder, rounding up the interview.

''I'm so sorry, David.''

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x reader

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brightgoat · 3 months

Note

Hey hi! I’ve been an avid follower of yours for awhile for your Pucci art but, this green child au has me hooked more and more lately! Your art is stunning by the way, thank you for posting!! The final metamorphosis panel has me excited for the next installment you share ngl.

Anyways, I was wondering if I could ask a few things about it? Specifically, what has happened after O-moon came into the picture, and the buildup to part 13 and 14? Of course if you wish to keep things vague or don’t know, there’s no need to answer! I’m just curious.

When did Jotaro get alerted to the incident and decided to finally come around? Did he encounter Pucci first or Jolyne? After the revelations that O-moon revealed to Jolyne, how did her perceptions of her father and Pucci shift? Did Jolyne ever figure out what Pucci was most likely about to do to FF while they were cornered by him? Have you thought about how Weather Report factors into this AU at all (since he’s probably in prison at this point)?

Sorry for the bombardment, and again no pressure to answer these if you don’t wish to!

- Kimera

Greetings! Thank you very much for the compliment, hope the payoff to that comic was satisfying haha

So, I wanna keep things vague with this AU, telling the main story beats through images and short comics- not only cuz I like it that way but also cuz... I haven't decided a lot of the details hahaha-

Answering this via lore dump, hope you like reading, this can be just one of many ways it could've happened:

I imagined that while Pucci and Jolyne were out getting souls, Jotaro was studying whatever is left of Dio's followers, and eventually tracks down Pucci, and travels to the US. Perhaps he finds out Pucci has been tutoring Jolyne from Jolyne's mum (who knows maybe they reconnected).

Oh and yes, Jolyne's mum knows abt Pucci, but of course not who he really is.

During this, Jolyne has awakened the Green Baby and fused with it. Jotaro may even sense that something is wrong through their family psychic bond thing.

Jotaro, realizing Pucci is a step ahead of him by already taking in his own daughter, tracks Pucci down to the church and confronts him there, sparing no time and going straight to beating answers out of him, where's Jolyne, what happened to her, what's your plan etc.

I had this thought, that once Jolyne fuses with the green baby, she inherits a bit of Dio's knowledge, and it helps her realise she's been getting used by Pucci all along. Not only that, she inherits the will to go to Heaven, and it drives her to complete the plan, she's strung along by fate now.

Now obviously she feels betrayed by Pucci, but still sympathetic to him, and rescues him from Jotaro. She's conflicted, she's angry, the only reason both Pucci and Jotaro reached out was because of some bigger-than-her plot, and not because of herself. She doesn't know how much of what Pucci gave her was genuine or because of her use to him.

(had this idea for a scene that right after Jolyne rescues Pucci, all three of them are still in church and Pucci realises she's transformed, he yells for her to stay still so he can get Whitesnake to take whatever's inside her out, but as soon as Whitesnake reaches out, a hand bursts out, he thinks it's Stone Free and suddenly JUMPSCARE O-Moon jumps out at him and the reversed-gravity throws everyone away from her-)

The only friend she has left is FF, and yes she finds out what Pucci did to them, furthering her anger. So she drags FF along with her, they are eachothers' only allies here, and although FF doesn't fully understand what's happening to Jolyne, they'll stay by her side (cue the uhhhh 'oh jolyne gave me so many memories and memories make up my intellect so i owe her yadda yadda-')

Aaaaand as for Weather, yeah mf's still in prison lmao I haven't thought too much about him. I wanted this to focus on Jolyne and Pucci, though if I did turn this AU into an entire actual story, Weather would probably come up at some point. God knows how though lmao-

#green child au

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mizu-nights · 4 months

Text

# another language

★ — chars ; toya , akito , rui

★ — notes ; HELLO NAGULAT AKO NUNG NAKITA KO TO FHDHFHFFH di ko na-expect na makakatanggap ako ng tagalog req... hindi ako masyadong magaling mag tagalog (native language ko...) PERO hopefully maiintindihan mo ito huhu ... also yes ofc feel free to ask any questions u want! (just not personal ones obv)

★ — notes (2) ; i had a fun time writing this, but i'm rlly rlly nervous abt posting it (╥﹏╥) if i accidentally made a mistake in a few parts, pls don't be harsh with me!

★ — notes (3) ; fem!reader implied for akito , otherwise none!

★ — languages used (keep in mind i used google translate for some + my tagalog isn't good) ; tagalog , italian , korean

★ — shout out to my bbg for helping out with akito's part (she doesn't follow this blog and i hope it stays that way)

★ — requested by ; anon

★ aoyagi toya — tagalog :

oh, he's so confused. of course he knows that you're speaking in another language, yet he doesn't know what you're saying...

so, naturally, he wonders what you're talking about when he accidentally overhears you in a call with your friend one day.

"ang pogi si toya... like jusko sobrang sweet niya sakin baka magka diabetes ako." (rough tl: toya is so handsome... like oh my god he's so sweet to me i might get diabetes.)

... he understood about... 3 words—'toya', 'sweet' and 'diabetes'. and now he's extra puzzled.

toya asked you about it the next day since he doesn't want any misunderstandings between the both of you. which led to you becoming a rather shy mess while explaining what you were talking about.

"oh... i see."

despite the dry response, you could see toya's face lightening up once he realized that you were actually gushing about him, just in a language that he didn't understand.

he definitely researched some cute endearments that night, so don't be surprised if he randomly calls you names like 'mahal' or 'sinta' from now on.

★ shinonome akito — italian:

akito got the idea over time that you were talking affectionately about him in another language, but he would prefer if you admit it yourself. mostly just to tease you, honestly.

with that in mind, he's still a bit surprised when you tell him you love him in another language.

"...ti amo tanto." (rough tl: i love you so much)

"huh?"

"nothing!"

but with how cute and funny his reactions are, how can you stop? his confused look always looks so charming whenever you compliment him.

"sei così carino, sai?" (rough tl: you're so cute, you know?)

"okay, seriously, i don't understand a single thing..."

eventually, he gets tired of your teasing and just translates what you're saying when you're gone. prepare to be surprised with random compliments in your own language by your boyfriend.

"sei la ragazza... più carina che abbia... mai visto..?" (rough tl: you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen)

... even if it could use some work.

★ kamishiro rui — korean :

rui is a sneaky one, so you always make sure to gush about him whenever he's actually away, or if he's asleep.

and in this situation, you thought he was asleep. keyword: thought.

unsurprisingly, it seems like your boyfriend stayed up a bit later tonight to finish an invention. you chuckled softly, finding him endearing as you covered him up with a blanket.

"...너 정말 귀엽다. 잘 자고 있길 바래, 내 사랑." (rough tl: you're so cute. i hope you sleep well, my love.)

rui was actually awake, though. of course, he couldn't understand a thing you said, but that only added to his list of robots to make.

so, weeks passed by after that incident. and something similar happened again, only this time, rui was prepared.

he rested his head on the desk, setting his brand new translator bot nearby to record what you say.

and, to say the least, his experiment did not disappoint! he's never going to let you live this down, either.

just to mess with you a bit, and to let you know he knows about your little secret now, he went up to you the next day, whispering something into your ear.

"내가 귀엽다고 생각해? 네가 더 귀여워." (rough tl: you think i'm cute? you're cuter)

you were so surprised, it's like he took your breath away. you give him a look that basically yells out, 'you know!?' and rui simply nods, with that well-known cat-like smile of his.

#toya aoyagi #toya aoyagi x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai #pjsk #★ — you are my literature

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thejacketscloset · 3 months

Text

(@forestshadow-wolf !!! GENDA!!!) I have thoughts abt genderfluid soap okay!! I can't help it!!!

While Soap knows he identifies as genderfluid, when it comes to how he expresses that outwardly depends on vibes alone

For a long while he never really knew the term for it, so it was something he kept to himself. All he really knew was sometimes he was a she in his head, or a they, or whatever else he felt like in the moment.

Soap's ""coming out"" experience with Ghost was kind of clunky (to no one's fault but his own). He forgets that not everyone can see inside his head sometimes, and while he's rambling on about spending time with his sister and says something along the lines of " 'course, we went dress shopping together while i was over, just a little something we gals like to bond over. She's adamant that green is mah colour but ah know tha' really I look killer in blue." Ghost picks up on it of course, and goes quiet for a long while trying to figure out how to bring it up and ask Soap without making it seem like he's opposed to it or upset. Eventually he figures out a way, and after a slightly awkward conversation Soap feels a lot less nervous to express his gender in other ways around Ghost.

When they started dating, Soap explicitly expressed that he wanted Ghost to refer to him like "He's my girlfriend" and "She's my boyfriend." (He specially likes to be called Ghost's girlfriend, it makes him EXTREMELY happy. He never specifically says he likes it more than the other, bur Ghost picks up on it no problem)

Being on leave gives Soap PLENTY opportunities to switch up how he outwardly expresses gender. His wardrobe at home is stock full of skirts, dresses, and all types of alt clothes. He likes to wear long skirts the most, the flowyness of them make him feel gorgeous.

He enjoys all pronouns, but again it normally goes off of vibes. On base he sticks to he/him because its most comfortable, but has asked his small found family of the 141 to switch it up when they feel like it.

Feminine compliments can and will make him blush FURIOUSLY. he loves them the most because he's typically heard them the least throughout his life. (Ghost calls him pretty once and Soap is a MESS. Ghost then makes it his mission to find out what compliments make him the most embarassed/happy. The trend is not hard to notice)

Ghost is probably one of his biggest supporters once he finds out, mainly because he just loves seeing Soap feel good abt himself! If his girlfriend feels good then he feels good in turn

Soap will jokingly say things like "Oh nooo! I'm just a petite woman who will get blown away by the wind !!! What ever will i do" bc he thinks it's funny to say he's small when he is. Very buff.

He cried happy tears when he received an extremely thoughtful gift from Ghost that was a custom made sapphire necklace that had a note that said "blue definitely is your colour" to match a dress he had gotten with his sister. He denies that he cried but he did. We all know.

Steadily becomes way more comfortable and visibly happy with himself once he's out to the 141 and they start supporting him in any way they can

Gaz refers to him as "the people's princess" of the team. He hates it (he doesn't)

DISCLAIMER: Though I used "he/him" to refer to Soap throughout this post I did it so it was easier to tell what/who I was talking about as switching up pronouns when typed can make it a bit hard to follow. I believe Soap would like to use ALL pronouns and lean heavily towards She and He (that's me projecting bc I feel only connected to both parts of the traditional binary so that's where I'm most comfortable.)

#genderfluid!soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod #mw2 #tf 141 #genderfluid #headcanons

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loversj0y · 9 months

Text

our young nation

wilbur soot x gn! reader (note: pronouns are gn but reader is afab)

TWs: WAR, DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, BIRTH, PREGNANCY, ONE LINE ABT PERIODS, TALKS OF ILLNESS, MENTIONS OF DYING, SEMI-REALISTIC APPROACH TO WAR

word count: 10.7k

note: this has not been edited at all. i dont know a lot about war, but i do know hamilton and mockingjay, so. theres that. there's a playlist for this fic as well if you want to listen to what i listened to (also if this formats weirdly lmk and ill post it on ao3). have fun reading :) title is taken from dear theodosia from hamilton fic playlist

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @melunnek

Doing new things was never easy. There were always some hiccups, some strifes, some things that just kept new things from working out just as perfectly as you’d hoped. Not all these hiccups were bad per se, but they were there. Occam’s razor be damned, sometimes things are harder than they are easier.

Those hiccups might be the death of one Wilbur Soot. Mostly because, in this case, the things occurring lean far more toward the “strife” category than the “hiccup” category.

Literally.

The newness of his formed country was refreshing, L’Manburg was already growing to become a beautiful nation, just from the camaraderie seen within its walls. But the beauty of their forming country was contrasted by the growing issues of war and hardships afflicting his citizens.

So yes, war was hard. New things were hard, but they were often necessary and they often brought new, better things.

And then, of course, there was the flickering candle light in the middle of the destitute tunnel that categorized war: Love.

You weren’t originally planning to be involved in the war at all. When Wilbur had come to your door, asking about volunteering for the war, you’d politely turned him down. You made it very clear how much you supported the war efforts, and how, though you couldn’t fight, you’d be willing to help out the war efforts in any way you could.

Wilbur gave you a charming smile and let you know that your support was greatly appreciated.

Which was how you became his aid. For the leader of the rebellion, he was rather disorganized, in a literal sense, seen in the numerous papers and half-finished rations littering his desk, as well as a figurative sense, with the desk becoming a mirror image of his own mind. You helped clear the scatter, in both senses. When he’d pass out writing his pages and pages on new injustices committed by the Greater SMP, you’d be there to save his place and clear the desk.

Eventually, you were able to do far more than just clear the desk; you were able to clear his mind.

It started in conversations, when he’d ask questions aloud to himself without realizing you were in the room.

“… and the infractions pushed upon us by the members of the Greater SMP have found my people destitute, destroyed, and… deprived? No, not deprived-“

“Disregarded?” You spoke up from your place standing next to him, where you’d been carefully sorting through old unfinished drafts of his own works.

“Disregarded?” He looked up at you, giving you a flash of a smile, “Do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?”

You flushed a bit under his gaze. You hadn’t actually meant to offer the word, but it had slipped out before you could stop it, “Yes.”

His smile underwent a simple change, one you’d noticed after observing his speeches and public appearances. His smile went from congressional — purely political and for show — to harboring a sense of community. It was the smile he used when he asked for volunteers. It was the smile he used when he asked people for their grievances. It was the smile he used when he listened to his citizens. It was a smile that could make you feel safe, make you feel heard. “How so? In what ways do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” He asked. It was subtle, the way he tried to say people’s names as often as possible when he spoke to them. There was something in it you recognized; a urge to get the person on your good side and the need to be liked.

You honestly couldn’t place the words that escaped you next. You had never been particularly political, but there was something about Wilbur Soot that demanded elegance and intelligence, and you felt yourself falling into line with easy compliance.

“Well, I feel disregarded in the way they command us. They have hurt our people numerous times without giving a second thought, yet they praise kindness and claim to want a peaceful end to this fighting. I feel disregarded in the fact that they claim to understand us, yet they have never spoken to me, let alone the majority of our citizens. I feel disregarded because they don’t even know my name, yet they have burned down my land. I feel disregarded because they refuse to listen to our grievances,” you took a breath as you continued, setting down the pages you’d been shuffling through. “I feel disregarded because even before the war, they did not respect us. I feel disregarded in the ways that they would bring us into their conflicts while they sat there. And most of all, I feel disregarded in the ways they have hurt my people without a care in the world, as if our lives do not matter.”

There was a moment of silence when you’d finished, and you looked back to see the leader of the rebellion giving you a look that you had never seen before upon his face: adoration. His smile fell into something softer, one that you’d seen only in short bursts, reserved for quiet moments Wilbur shared with himself in dark nights alone when he’d finished a piece he was proud of.

“Well, then,” he smiled at you genuinely, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen. “Disregarded, it is.”

From there, you went from being his aid to his advisor, helping him hone his perfectly crafted speeches. You helped clear his mind. His air of regality as leader of the rebellion kept people from feeling comfortable reaching him, yet you shared none of that sense of bravado. You didn’t want to. People came to you, told you about how they felt as citizens, and it was the biggest help to Wilbur, who no longer felt like he was grasping at straws to make sure his citizens were being heard.

Throughout it all, the best thing you offered Wilbur was not your mind, but rather your company.

There were a lot of long nights that Wilbur was used to braving alone, and yet now, you were there to provide him companionship and cure the thoughts that plagued his mind about the future of the war. Wilbur loved watching your mind work on these nights. He would throw up a question into the air, something simple and philosophical, and he would watch as you’d chip away at the question and his subsequent arguments to your own positions. In any other case, it’d have been annoying, but for the both of you, it was akin to mental exercises, a game the two of you shared to keep sharp. It made for a kind distraction over the sounds of silence that plagued empty battlefields still wet with blood.

These nights were also some of the only nights you’d be able to get Wilbur to take care of himself. Usually, it was after a glass of wine softened him up enough for you to convince him to finish his rations. He had a habit of leaving half, just in case someone else needed something, and he’d been hungrier before so he was sure he could brave it. These were the nights when he’d finally let his wounds show.

Every battle, regardless of how bad off he was, he would hide any wounds that he couldn’t personally classify as fatal. And he would continue hiding them until they faded, though they never fully did. He always cared so much about appearances, how he needed to look pristine and confident to keep morales high.

But he didn’t care about that with you. With you, he cared about wit and vulnerability, despite the two having always fallen on opposite doorsteps in his persona. So he’d take off his uniform, leaving him in a simple white undershirt and the slightly baggy black pants he wore underneath. It was the biggest form of physical vulnerability he’d allowed himself in years, and you never overstepped. You’d ignore the bruises and scars littering his arms and faintly poking out from the collar of his undershirt.

But veiled ignorance could only last so long, and your own care for the man overtook any sense of social conventions.

“Wilbur,” you looked at him abruptly. You’d been sharing a bottle of wine like you often ended up doing these nights that neither of you could sleep. With each sip, you feel your mind grow anxious at what you’d noticed. Right when he’d taken this uniform shirt off, you quickly noticed the slash in his bicep, crusted with blood and dirt. And while you planned to ignore it like usual, usually he’d at least have cleaned the wound before, and you couldn’t ignore how clearly unattended this wound was. “Did you visit the medic after today’s battle?”

Wilbur snorted into his glass of wine as he took another sip, “No. No, I did not.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he started simply, “they had far more pressing matters.”

You didn’t see the battles. You’d be on the sidelines, with prepared speeches for Wilbur to give in case of any major developments. You always had to be ready, but it came at the consequence of never knowing what truly happened on the battlefield. Wilbur never liked to recount it either, only sharing essential information to save you from hearing about the ways your people were injured.

But tonight, you wanted to know. His safety was something that concerned you, and if it was so bad that he would threaten his safety, you needed to know. “What was it like today?” You asked quietly, standing as you spoke.

He watched you as you flitted around the room, pacing the floorboards languidly. “I told you. We lost, but we were able to leave a-“

“No, I know what you told me. ‘The battle was lost, but there were effects put into motion that will be able to help us in the long run.’ I know that. I meant- the- the other stuff, those ‘more pressing matters’ that the nurses had. Stuff like that.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘casualties’ so casually, as if it was not one of your neighbor’s lives your were pushing into a single word.

He frowned, “I don’t- I really don’t think-“

“Tell me, Wilbur. I need to know.”

Wilbur sighed slowly, nodding, “Everyone was injured. Some of us less so than others. It… it was Eret. Eret betrayed us, so they knew where we were, they knew we’d be unprepared. It’s better that it’s now, so early in the war, that the traitor is gone now, but… it was at a heavy expense. All of my friends, the ones I dragged into this, they- some of them are still there, in the infirmary. Tubbo nearly died. He-“ Wilbur took in a breath, shuddering, “They said he’ll be okay, but if he was hit any higher, they would’ve punctured his rib, and we would’ve lost him. And- I- We almost lost my brother. Tommy, he-“ there were tears in Wilbur’s eyes as he recounted it, “he took a knife straight to the shoulder. For me. He pushed me out of the way. And it was so close, if he’d been a second earlier, it would’ve gone through his heart.” Wilbur was crying now. It was the first time you’d seen him this vulnerable, this affected by what he’d seen. The horrors that plagued his vision every time he’d close his eyes, yet he closes his eyes now, as he speaks, as if he would find some epiphany lying behind them and not the images of his brother and his brother’s best friend clinging to life.

“I- I couldn’t visit the medic after that. For this?” He gestured to the slash on his arm, “It felt unworthy of their attention when so many had nearly lost it all.”

He was still crying, his eyes pressed tightly together as if doing so would click some button to erase the memories of what he’d seen on the battlefield. You moved forward, pressing his head into your stomach and wrapping your arms around him gently. He cried against you, soft and shuddering as if his body was still afraid to acknowledge or speak about what he’d seen.

“I- I watched someone die. Someone on our side, I-“ he sobbed softly, “I held him as his breathing faded. His last words, he-“ Wilbur buried his face further against you, “He told me ‘Wilbur, make it worth it. If this is it for me, do not let it be in vain. Free our country and win.’” Wilbur panted quietly as he let the final words of a fellow solider fade into the quiet of the night. “I just- I can’t let him down. I let a man die for my cause. His blood is on my hands. And Y/N… it doesn’t look good right now. I know I said Eret’s betrayal is good for the future since the traitor is gone, but I- I don’t know what he knows. He could guide them back here tomorrow and slaughter us all in our sleep. So I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t let our people down, they- they didn’t ask for this. I keep- I keep wondering if I just should’ve kept quiet. If we could’ve been happy just living under SMP’s rule.” His admission did not escape him easily, echos of gasping sobs filling the room as he clung onto the fabric of your shirt. Neither of you spoke at first, letting his tears slow to a near stop in order to help him preserve the fragility of his mind.

“Wilbur,” you spoke softly once you felt the moment was right, “No one was happy before. You cannot fault yourself for giving us a chance. I know you feel responsible for the bloodshed, and I know how it makes you feel like you’re clinging onto some shadow of death that follows you. But if you were the only one who wanted freedom for our country, there would be no rebellion. You’d just be another man standing on the end of a street, searching for someone to listen to you. We support this cause because we not only believe in the importance of our freedom, but because we believe in you, Wilbur. We cannot have our leader be made a martyr because where would that leave us? This cause would fall apart without you. And I know you are afraid, but we are all afraid. You are allowed to be afraid of uncertainty. Your people are putting their lives on the line’s because the believe the end, even their ends, will justify the means. You cannot consider falling back onto your fears now. I’m so sorry for what you saw. I know how horrifying it must’ve been. But that man let you hold him as he died, you brought him comfort in those final moments because you promised a better future for his family, his people. You have inspired people, Wilbur. You inspired me. You took a single thought, an idea, and you turned it into something real, something tangible, a cause that we not only believe in, but one that we fight for, and we will continue to fight for.” You let out a soft sigh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, “Wilbur, I know you feel like the world is crumbling around you because of how scary everything is right now. But you are not alone. If your world is crumbling, it is crumbling for me too?” you sighed once more, “this is all just a long winded way for me to ask, Wilbur, please, will you let me patch your wound?”

He didn’t reply to any specific part of your response, just giving a curt nod and lowering his arms. You both knew that you didn’t just mean the wound on his arm, but that you were attempting to reach out and help him patch the rifts in his mind.

You grabbed the spare first aid kit, returning to your place in front of him as you set down the kit.

“It’s really not that bad,” he sighed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wilbur, I have always trusted your judgement for everything, but I think we have finally found the exception,” you chuckled softly, gently taking his arm in your hands to inspect the wound. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight, but it could certainly be worse.

“Really? This marks the exception? Not the hundreds of times I’ve asked you if something sounds right or if people would agree with something I’ve said?”

You nodded, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, “Yep, this is it. Uncertainty is not having bad judgement, it’s just the acknowledgement that you can’t do things alone. Which is true, none of us can.” You smiled lightly, pressing the cotton to his arm to clean the wound.

He hissed softly in pain as you cleaned the wound, speaking only once you’d finished, “I can’t,” he spoke quietly. “I can’t do things alone. I’m very grateful to have you.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you reached for a salve to spread onto his wound. “I’m grateful as well. You keep me stable with all this craziness going on.”

He watched as you opened the salve, getting a generous amount onto your fingers to lightly spread over the slash, “I can say the same. I would’ve fallen into disarray by now without you.”

Your flush darkened, and you started to wrap his arm quietly. You didn’t speak until you’d finished wrapping his arm completely.

“There,” you spoke softly, tying off the bandage, “Now, you won’t get an infection and fall ill. Goodness knows we don’t have the medicine for preventable illness anyways,” you chuckled, trying to make light of things.

Wilbur smiled as well, but he seemed a bit further in thought. You grabbed the kit once more and went to return it to its place, but Wilbur’s hand wrapped lightly around your wrist and kept you from turning.

“Wilbur?” you asked softly.

“I-” he had a flush on his cheek, and there was a beat of waiting before he finally looked up at you. He had a look filled with adoration and appreciation. But there was something else in his gaze, something softer. More warm. Something you would come to know as love.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his thumb lightly caressing where it rested on your wrist.

You had to refrain from gaping at him as you processed his question. You had always found the rebel attractive, but you’d never considered the legitimacy of pursuing a relationship with a man who seemed far out of your league. With bated breath you nodded, and he leaned up to pull you into him.

The kiss felt far more gentle than it should have. For all the desperation and wanting that lived within it, the kiss was soft and slow, familiarizing one another with each crack in our lips. It didn’t develop further, there was no rapid increasing of intensity, the kiss remained as gentle as the glow from the candles around the room until you pulled away slowly.

You both stared at one another for a long moment, attempting to memorize each freckle and blemish that adored war-torn faces. He was the one to speak up first.

“Y/N? Would you stay with me? Just for tonight?”

You nodded your agreement, and you both shared a mutual understanding in the lie he allowed spill from his lips.

As the war continued, you found yourself making a permanent residence in Wilbur’s bed and home. The war was taking longer than anyone expected, a double-edged sword in the how our troops still lived, yet so did Greater SMP’s. Morale was low for everyone, but you kept your spirits high in fire-warmed rooms in Wilbur’s arms.

“Do you think our people need something to boost their spirits?” He’d asked one day, your head resting on his chest and a hand loosely playing with your hair.

“Hm,” you thought, looking up at him, “I think it would be good, yeah. What are you thinking? A festival?”

He hummed, and as you inspected his face, you noticed the nerves lining his expression. It wasn’t an uncommon sight these days, his worries about the war leeching into every moment of the day. But usually, the anxiousness was far more faded by this time of night, even if it never fully left his gaze.

“Not a festival,” he spoke, shifting and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, speaking softer, “I was thinking a wedding.”

You sat up, gasping softly, “Will-”

“I was going to wait until after the war,” he spoke, sitting up across from you. “But I’m terrified that I won’t get to. I’d rather die knowing you were mine than knowing I never got to at least ask you.”

“Wilbur,” you grabbed onto both of his cheeks, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. You understood where his fears came from, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you shared in the same sentiment. Every day that the troops returned, your heart waited to beat in fear until you saw his face. You didn’t want to wait either.

You pulled away, wrapping arms tightly around his neck as you rested your forehead against his.

“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, a grin ghosting over his lips.

You laughed, holding onto him tighter, “Yes, Wilbur, absolutely.”

He laughed as well, his arms coming to wrap tightly around you. He kissed the side of your head as he spoke, “We- it probably won’t get to be a big wedding because we’re so low on resources, but if you want something big, we can absolutely have a second ceremony after, and-”

“Wilbur, our wedding could be in a mud field in our pajamas with a chicken, and I would still be satisfied. All that matters to me is being able to call you mine forever.”

He gave you a grin like you hung the stars in the sky before pulling you in for a loving kiss and putting a small ring onto your finger.

The wedding planning went over quickly. You weren’t planning anything fancy whatsoever, but it still needed to be enough of an event for your people to have time to relax. Everyone wanted to help out as well. Once you woke up the next morning after Wilbur’s proposal, it seemed as if the whole country knew already, with people coming to congratulate you and Wilbur as you both walked through town. Just the sense of community in everyone’s offering to help out with the wedding seemed to brighten everyone throughout the country.

You and Wilbur actually had two ceremonies. The first one was for the two of you and your families, a small dinner and ceremony to allow you to have an intimate and private wedding. It was gorgeous, and so incredibly worth it. The second one was the ceremony for the people. It wasn’t a lavish affair, though your wedding attire was some of the most beautiful things either of you had seen in months. It was a subdued wedding, but it was making the most out of what you had. Lots of fresh cut flowers from the countryside, Niki baked a cake, and a real, full meal made for everyone.

You felt tense in your fancy wedding outfit. Even if it wasn’t the height of luxury, it felt more stiff than anything else you’d worn in months. But there was a point to all of it. It was an event, something for people to care about. Something to get on their minds instead of residual fear about the next battle. You were glad for private affair you’d been able to have the night before, because this felt more like playing the role of the Leader’s Partner rather than actually being his partner.

“Hey,” you heard softly from behind you, turning as you watched Wilbur sneak in. He paused when he saw you, staring in awe. “You look so lovely,” he smiled, walking over to you and taking your hands in his.

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled, pulling him forward for a short kiss. “You ready to get betrothed a second time?”

He laughed, holding you a bit closer, “I am. I’d marry you every day if I could.”

You smiled shyly up at him, moving to wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, “I love you so much.”

He kissed the top of your head, smiling, “I love you too, darling.”

You sighed and relaxed into the hug, letting your eyes slip shut. You moved your hands down to his sides, frowning when you felt a small box in his pocket.

“Wilbur,” you started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small box of cigarettes, “What are you doing with these?”

He frowned, a shameful look on his face, “I haven’t smoked any, don’t worry. I’m just- I’m anxious, so I got them in case.”

You nodded, biting your lip with a frown, “If you’re anxious, you know you can come to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-” he sighed, “I’m anxious about you, is the thing.”

You frowned, setting the cigarettes down on the table behind you, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, sitting down on a small stool across from you, “I’m nervous that when word travels about the marriage, they’ll look down on the legitimacy of our country. I think it’s good, I think they’ll think we’re less concerned than we really are, however… I’m worried I’m placing a target on your back.”

You nodded softly, “Wilbur, I’ve had a target on my back since I chose to stand with our country,” you moved forward, giving him a gentle kiss, “I understand the concern, and I know the risks. But I’m not letting those risks outweigh the joy of being married to you. If they go for me, I can handle it. I know I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Plus, they won’t kill me. If I’m valuable to you, they wouldn’t dare.”

He took your hand in his again, squeezing it gently, “thank you, darling,” he sighed, holding you close. “I won’t let them take you anyways. You’re too precious to me.”

You chuckled softly, lightly pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s go get married, then. The best fuck you we can give them is our love.”

He grinned and chuckled, nodding softly, “Let’s go get married.”

The wedding was a bright affair. The actual marriage part was quick and sweet, vows that you had both prepared together, nothing as genuine as the words spoken the night before. It was sweet regardless, promises of loving each other in the darkest of times that rang true in an audience of war-stricken dreamers. The best part of the wedding was the reception. Everyone was up, dancing and singing along to the music being shared, and the entire tarp over the field was covered in the most beautiful lights and flowers. You had a proper first dance with Wilbur before the dancing became more lively. You spent most of the night sitting with Wilbur and watching your people dance and laugh and drink.

“It’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” You smiled, looking over at him.

He nodded, “It is. I’m glad to see everyone smiling and happy.” “And drunk.”

He laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, that too.”

You smiled, holding his hand quietly. You stared at the ring on your finger. It was simple, but it was absolutely gorgeous. A simple gold band with a small chiselled diamond in the centre. The diamond was crafted from a piece that had chipped off of Wilbur’s sword when he taught you the basics of parrying hits. The engagement ring lay below it, a thinner silver ring with a small emerald that you recognized as coming from one of Wilbur’s ventures to a further village. The rings weren’t lavish, but you preferred them more like this. They were far more meaningful like this. Symbols of your love both in their meaning and their crafting.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked him softly.

“Of course, darling.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “In our vows, we both mentioned honesty, so I want you to be honest with me right now. I know this isn’t the place to ask, but… what do you think our chances of winning are?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I don’t think it matters how big or small our chances are. I think what matters is that we have a chance. If we didn’t, we would’ve failed a long time ago.”

You nodded softly, “You see it, though? The future where we win?”

He looked over at you, a wide smile on his face, “I see it as clearly as I see you now. I see our fields free from the blood they currently harbor. Instead, they’re filled with flowers that grew up from the bloodshed. Crimson turned crimson. The kids run around, free of fear of an incoming bomb. My brother runs with them, and he no longer acts so grown up; he’s allowed to be a kid again. I see a memorial for those we lost, for all that was sacrificed. I see our citizens in parades, every year for our independence, they sing and dance, just like this. It’s like… the war is the night, the cold and harsh conditions that brutalize us and break us down into nothing more than human. But independence? It’s warm. It’s laying in the sun in a field with you. It’s our flag waving high on a summer day. It’s the laughter of children, it’s the joy of the future. It’s us. Our future. A memory garden adorned with flowers and the knowledge that we will never return to the Great War because we not only survived, but we persisted.”

“It’s daylight,” you smiled, and he gave you a grin so bright it felt like basking in it.

“It’s daylight.”

The weeks after the wedding remained lively for the most part. The morale boost helped the troops improve, and the battles didn’t seem as tough. There was an underlying fear that the SMP troops were holding back for some reason, but for the most part, everything seemed to be going good.

Until one morning.

Winter had begun, and with it, hardships improved. Illness was rampant, and while no one had fallen fatally ill yet, everyone was afraid.

Wilbur didn’t expect you to be next on the list of ill.

He was in the living room when you woke up that day. You stood slowly, but as you stood, you were hit with a wave of nausea and vertigo. You nearly collapsed before making it to the trash to throw up the contents of your empty stomach. You leaned over the trash and within moments, Wilbur was at your side, keeping your hair out of your face and rubbing your back.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You coughed weakly, spitting into the trash, “Do I seem okay, Wilbur?” You huffed, before sighing. “Sorry, I just- I hate throwing up.”

He nodded softly, “It’s alright, I get it, here,” he carefully helped you up back into bed before rushing to grab some water. He handed you the glass, and you drank it quickly, sighing softly.

“Did something happen?” He asked, moving to your side to wrap an arm around you.

“No, I just stood up and- yeah,” you sighed, leaning your head against him, “You shouldn’t be close, I may be sick.”

He frowned, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to call for the doctor, okay?”

You nodded softly, and he was rushing to get the doctor within seconds. They came back a few minutes later, and the doctor was quick to check over you.

“Your temperature is a bit high,” they hummed, “But other than that and the throwing up, I’m not seeing any other major symptoms. It could be stress. I would take it easy for the next few days, see if it improves. If nothing’s changed in a week, we can check for more, alright?”

You nodded softly, sighing quietly. Wilbur grabbed your hand gently before walking the doctor out, sharing hushed words.

When he returned, he got back into bed next to you, “They don’t think it’s anything serious. They said it’s likely just a mild fever, not like the flu going around out there.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’ll be alright.”

“You will be,” he nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t stay to watch you too much this week, but I can get Niki, if you want.”

“Wilbur, I don’t think I need to be watched,” you chuckled.

“I know you don’t need it,” he hummed, “but I want someone to be here with you. I don’t want you to collapse and have no one be here for you.”

You sighed softly, nodding, “Okay. If you don’t need her for anything this week, then I don’t mind. I like spending time with Niki.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently, “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

The same thing happened throughout the week. Wilbur would help you in the morning when the nausea hit, and then Niki would swap out with him when he had to go help out his people. The nausea usually lasted the whole day, but the vertigo and lightheadedness only seemed to last in the morning. You managed to eat small meals, and with Niki’s baking, she brought you a lot of small snacks.

It was one of these days that you had a theory. The final day of the week, there was a major battle, so Niki would spend the whole day with you while Wilbur went out to fight. It was nerve wracking knowing that he would be out there and you were stuck in your bedroom, but you figured it wasn’t that much different from the other days, you supposed.

“Niki,” you spoke up from your place on the bed. She was sat across from you, working on a small knitting project. The troops had just head out for the battle.

“Yeah, Y/N?” she asked, looking up at you.

“Did a doctor stay behind? Or did all of them head out?”

She thought for a moment, “There’s two here with us. One for the ill, and one preparing things for when the others return.”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment, “Could you call one of them here for a moment?”

She frowned, concern lacing her brow, “Yeah, of course, but, why? Are you not feeling well again?”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip quietly, looking away for a moment, “Can you keep a secret, Niki?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase your next statement, “I… skipped this month.”

She gave you a look of confusion, before her eyes widened as realization hit, “Oh. Oh! Do you think-?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. And I don’t want to get Wilbur’s hopes up either, just in case. But… I think so.”

She gave you a grin, nodding quickly as she stood, “I’ll go grab one of the doctors, I’ll be right back!”

She rushed out, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You were nervous about the implications. You wanted to start a family with Wilbur, of course, but neither of you were planning for it to happen yet. You’d agreed to wait until after the war. War is no place to raise a child.

The doctor came in, and she gave you a gentle smile. Niki waited outside as you spoke with the doctor, and you did a quick exam.

“Well,” the doctor gave you a soft smile, “I think your theory may be correct, Y/N.”

“You think?”

“Well, I know. You’re correct. You’re pregnant.”

She had a soft grin on her face as she confirmed your theory, as if it was not news that changed the entire trajectory of your future.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you gave her a soft smile right back, trying to let your worries ease into the back of your mind until Wilbur returned.

“Of course. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. For the next few months, just try to relax. I know it’ll be tough given our circumstances, but you have the support of the entire country holding you up, alright?”

You nodded silently.

“I’ll do another exam in a month to make sure everything is going well, and we can arrange for monthly visits. If you have any questions just let me know, and so other than that, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and she left soon after.

Niki returned, a subdued smile on her face, “So?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

She grinned, rushing to your side and taking your hand in hers, “Oh, that’s lovely! Wilbur’s going to be so excited, are you going to tell him tonight?”

“I think so,” you smiled softly, “I imagine it’d be hard to keep it from him.”

It was hard to keep it from him. But not through your own admission, rather because news of the doctor visiting your home traveled quick among those who’d stayed behind. That night, Wilbur rushed in to see you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He called out, rushing up to see you and hold you in a tight hug. He looked worse for wear, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks stained with dirt.

“Yes, love, I’m alright, why?” You hugged him back tightly, nerves and knowledge filling your chest.

“I- I heard a doctor came in today,” he pulled away to inspect your face, holding your cheeks gently, “Did something happen?”

“No, no,” you smiled softly, “I’m okay, I’m good, actually. We figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay.”

He let out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to yours gently, “Darling, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled softly, “How was the fight?”

He tensed, and you frowned.

“It was… it wasn’t good,” he sighed, and your heart dropped, “We ambushed them like we planned, but they were stronger. We didn’t get to take out as many of them as we wanted to before they noticed us, so we were outnumbered.”

You nodded softly, “Were you successful in stealing supplies, though?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Not as much as we wanted to, but enough to make it hurt.”

“That’s good,” you smiled back at him, “Are you injured? Did you see the medic?”

He shook his head, “a few scratches and a burn from a flaming arrow, but it’s not bad. It’s on my shoulder.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Go take a bath, and I’ll wrap it. And then, I have something important to talk to you about.”

He tilted his head, “What is it?”

“Nope, not yet. Go clean up first,” you chuckled softly, “That takes priority.”

He rolled his eyes, grin falling on his face easily, “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched as he went to go clean up. You could have told him then, but it was more for your sake than his that you wanted to wait. You had to get your mind together first, especially now knowing he was okay.

He returned not long after, face and hands scrubbed clean of dirt and soot. He was wearing a white tank top with his sleep pants, and he had the med kit in his hand as he sat down next to you.

You hissed softly as you saw the burn, gently taking his arm in your hand, “Wilbur, this is worse than you described.”

He waved it off, sighing, “It just got irritated from the water. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You gave him a look of disbelief as you stared at the burn. It was bright red and angry, skin slightly charred and bubbled. There was a slight cut in the middle of it from where the arrow must’ve passed through. You sighed sofly, grabbing the disinfectant.

“Hold onto my arm, this is going to sting,” you told him softly, and he did as you said. Once you passed the disinfectant over the burn, he hissed in pain, squeezing your shoulder. You continued cleaning the wound until it was satisfactory, You grabbed the burn cream and delicately spread it over the wound, and slowly, his pained noises lessened.

“I’m not going to wrap it just yet, it needs to breathe for a while, okay?”

He nodded, sighing and pulling his hand away, “Will I be able to cover it tomorrow?”

You frowned, “You shouldn’t. But I know you will, so I’ll wrap it tomorrow.”

He nodded again, grabbing the med kit and returning it to its space in your bathroom.

“So,” he said, sitting down in front of you, “You said you have something important to share?”

“Yeah, so,” you sighed softly, taking his hand gently, “It’s about the doctor visit. I had the doctor come over today because I wanted to talk to her about us starting a family.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Okay. I thought we were planning to wait, though?”

You nodded, “I know, but… would you… be upset if we didn’t?”

He chuckled, “Not at all, darling,” he smiled, “it wouldn’t be ideal, but that’s more due to my own selfishness. I want to be here for every second of it, and I don’t know if I can right now. But I wouldn’t be upset about it. Do you… want to?”

You bit your lip, taking his hand and placing it over your stomach. “Wilbur,” you looked up at him, “I don’t know if we have much of a choice anymore.”

He gave you a concerned look, frowning, “Why not? Did- did something happen? If you’re not able to, we could always look into adoption, or-”

“No, Will,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “It’s not like that. It’s, uh, it’s the opposite, actually.” You gave him a soft grin.

He looked confused for a moment longer before a wide grin crossed his face, “Wait. Do you- do you mean?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I had a theory with all the sickness in the morning. So, I talked to the doctor, and… I think our family will be coming a lot sooner than we’d planned for.”

He grinned, tears springing to his eyes, “You’re serious? You’re-”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” You were grinning as well, and finally getting to tell him felt like the first breath of air after diving into the deep end.

“Oh, darling,” he spoke, pulling you into a tight hug, “Oh, I- we’re going to have a kid.”

You nodded, chuckling through the tears of joy that hit your cheeks. “Yeah, we’re going to have a kid.”

He grinned, holding you tightly, “Fundy’s going to have a sibling! Darling, this is amazing. I know we wanted to wait, but I don’t care. I have so much more to fight for now. So much more to come home for.”

You kissed him, holding onto him like a lifeline, “The war’s not done. But this. This is why we fight. As long as you’re home at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

He grinned at you, “I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you. We’re so lucky, even if it’s just being alive right now. This is all we need.”

You smiled lovingly at him, “We are so fucking lucky. And I am so excited for this. They’re blessed to have you as their father.”

“They’re blessed to have you as well,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

That night, neither of you went to sleep concerned over a failed fight. Instead, you dreamt of the bright future you’d be bringing your child into.

Family and close friends were the first to know. You told them two days later, during an impromptu family meeting that Wilbur had called. Everyone was incredibly elated, though Tommy’s excitement probably took the cake, as he was practically screaming his congratulations.

The rest of country learned fairly soon after. About a month later, even though you’d only slightly began showing and could certain continue to hide it for a while, neither of you wanted to. It was a joy to share with the country, and the celebration that followed was bright and lively, a night-long glimpse into a wonderful future.

It wasn’t always easy, though. Wilbur hated how he couldn’t stay by your side, taking care of your every need. You hated how lonely some nights were, when the battles lasted longer than usual or they had to prepare for a midnight ambush. The worst part of those nights was the fear, overwhelming and keeping you stationary in Wilbur’s office or your bedroom. Not knowing if your husband would return hurt more than anything else in the world.

You were six months in when he came home exhausted in early morning light. He didn’t speak to you at first, giving you a kiss before going to wash up. You waited anxiously for him to return, and when he did, he returned shirtless with a med kit in hand. He sat down in front of you with a sigh, turning around so you could see the large gash running down his shoulder.

“Wilbur,” you gasped softly, “this is really long.”

“It’s not that deep. Didn’t even realize it was there until I went to wash up.” He sighed.

You frowned, starting to patch him up quickly.

He spoke to distract himself, “Do you think we’re going to have a girl or a boy?”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not sure. They could be nonbinary as well.”

“True,” he hummed, “if they do come out as nonbinary, we’ll let them choose their own name. But we do still need to choose a name.”

“That’s true,” you hummed, carefully disinfecting his wound, “We should prepare for both.”

“I agree,” he responded, though his words came out through a clenched jaw.

“So what are you thinking, then?”

“Hm, I’m not sure about for a boy. But I do have a name picked out for a girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled, starting to carefully apply the salve to the wound, “What is it?”

“Tallulah,” he smiled softly, “What do you think?”

“That’s gorgeous. I love it.” You set the rest of the salve down, picking up the bandages.

“I’ve always loved it. I’m really glad you like it as well.”

You directed him to hold his arm up so you could wrap his wound, “It’s beautiful. What about a boy?”

He hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“We could always do Wilbur Jr.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “God, no. I’d sooner name them after Tommy.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I mean, Thomas would be a good middle name.”

“It would, actually,” he smiled softly. “For a boy, though… Julius could be nice. Or maybe Cornelius.”

You hummed, “Those have a good ring to it. Julius Thomas Soot. Cornelius Thomas Soot.”

“They do. We can think more about it, I suppose. We have time.”

“We do have time,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder as you finished the bandage.

He turned, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your chest, pressing a kiss to the baby bump. You moved a hand to gently play with his hair.

“It was bad today?” You asked softly.

He sighed, “Bad would be an understatement.”

You nodded softly, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you think we’re bad people? For bringing a kid into this?” He asked softly.

You frowned, “No. I don’t.”

He nodded, holding you a bit tighter. After a moment, he spoke softly, “I’m really scared for them.”

You brushed through his hair with your hand, “Why?”

“I’m going to be honest, it… it doesn’t look good right now. They keep getting stronger and smarter, and I don’t know how to fight them. I’m scared we’re bringing our child into a failing country, and I’m scared I can’t protect you or them if worse comes to worse.”

“I understand. I’m scared too. But, love… we can’t really do anything now. We just have to try to give this child the best life we can, no matter the circumstances. Even if they’re the worst case scenario.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know. I just… I feel like I fucked up with Fundy. I was too young at the time, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes. And if I’m focused on fighting a war, I won’t be able to be there for them, the same way I wasn’t there for Fundy. I’m scared of being a bad father again.”

“I don’t think you will be,” you spoke softly, “and you’re not alone this time. You have me. They won’t be alone if you’re not there. I’ll be here.”

He nodded softly, looking up at you, “Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off.

“I get it. I’m scared too. I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention I’m terrified of giving birth. But I’m scared of making mistakes because I didn’t know until I met you if I would ever have a kid. I’m glad I am, don’t get me wrong, but I never expected to be ready for something like this. Honestly, I still don’t know if I’m ready. I’m terrified, Wilbur. But I have you. I’m not alone.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss you gently, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you spoke softly, kissing him back gently, “Let’s get some rest, now, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded softly. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t take long before he fell asleep, leaving you alone with thoughts of uncertainty until sleep took over.

As you entered the last month of the pregnancy, things were starting to look up.

Kind of.

While the recent battles had been lost, Wilbur had a plan.

“Darling, I think I’ve figured it out,” he grinned, standing from his desk and walking to the couch you sat on.

“What is it?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“I’ve figured out how we win. Tubbo’s been spying for us, as you know, and he brought me this document yesterday, and I couldn’t see the significance! I was being an idiot, but I knew it didn’t make sense for them to have an entire document detailing how they make their uniforms.” He grinned, and you tilted your head.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a cypher. Darling, it was a code! And I- I figured it out. I know their plans.” He had a manic look in his eye, and you couldn’t help but perk up at the excitement in his tone.

“Love, have you slept?”

“Barely, I couldn’t sleep much because I kept thinking about this stupid fucking document. But darling, we know everything now. We know exactly where they’re going to be and when. We can win, we- we can do this.”

You grinned, but the anxiety still filled your chest at the idea, “You’re sure about this?”

“I- I mean, I think. I figured out the code, and it all makes sense.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to think of the most likely possibility. That they knew. That this was a fake document.

“Darling, I thought you’d be more excited,” he frowned, catching onto your anxiety.

“No, no, I am, just… Wilbur, what if they did it on purpose? What if they let him get a document planted just to feed you incorrect information?”

He nodded, thinking quietly. “I trust in it. And I think it may be a risk we have to take.”

You gaped at him, “Wilbur, you could be marching our troops directly into a trap.”

“I know, I know, but,” he sighed, “I have a good feeling about this, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think we have any other choice. Without this, we have nothing.”

You nodded softly, “... you trust it? That- that this isn’t a plant?”

“Yes.”

“And how certain are you?”

He bit his lip, “Mostly certain. It’s the best chance we’ll have, and we have to move fast, their plans start tomorrow.”

You nodded, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Okay. If-if you’re sure. I trust you.”

He hugged you back tightly, and you tried not to think about the fact that he hugged you like it may be the last time, “I love you so much, darling. Don’t worry, okay? This time tomorrow, we’ll be free people.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his arms around you, “I love you too.” You pulled him in for a loving kiss, sighing softly.

“Go rally your troops.”

Wilbur did just that. He left shortly and brought the plan to all the generals, all the soldiers, everyone he could. He was buzzing with excitement when he returned that night, holding you close as he lied with you in bed, one hand gently resting over your belly.

“We’re leaving before the sun is up,” he told you softly.

“Will you be back when I wake up?”

He shook his head, “No. But we’ll be back for dinner for sure.”

You smiled softly, holding him closer, “We’ll have a celebratory dinner. Extra special.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, “Extra special?”

“Absolutely. Because we won’t just be celebrating the win. We’ll be celebrating your new role as President.”

He flushed softly, “You think?”

You nodded, “I’ve heard the people speak. They trust you, Wilbur. And I know you’ll make a great president. You’ll create a great place for our child to grow up in.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly, then your cheek.

“Plus,” you hummed, “President Soot does have a good ring to it.”

He smirked, blushing once more, “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so, Mr. President,” you grinned as he leaned up, lips hovering above yours.

“That does sound nice. Though I may be biased,” he pecked your lips gently, a smirk still ghosting on his lips.

“How so?”

“Well, I think any words that escape your lips are just as gorgeous as the lips they escape from,” he spoke softly, pulling you into a languid and loving kiss. You kissed him back just as passionately, letting the intensity quell your fears about his return tomorrow.

Wilbur was gone when you woke up the next morning, which you expected. What you didn’t expect was for lunchtime to have been such a bleak affair. You expected much more liveliness from your people, especially given how much Wilbur believed in the plan. But the streets were quiet. There were only hushed words as you walked through town to find a meal, and it seemed as if many people were directing those hushed words towards you.

“Did something happen?” You asked the merchant after you finished your meal.

She gave you a frown, a tense look appearing on her brow, “You haven’t heard?” You felt your heart sinking as you shook your head.

She sighed, looking down for a moment before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry, uh…” she took a deep breath before speaking, “one of the generals was supposed to come back to check in at noon. They haven’t returned.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded quietly, “Well, that- that doesn’t mean anything specific yet. Have we heard anything at all from the battlefield?”

She shook her head solemnly, and you nodded once more.

“Alright, well, ah, thank- thank you,” you stuttered out, before rushing away to find the basecamp quarters. You started feeling a pain as you walked, but you didn’t allow yourself to focus on it as you ripped open the tarp to the camp, finding the entire place… empty. It felt like a ghosttown.

You swallowed down the bile that rose in your throat, rushing back home. The pain continued as you walked, and your legs shook stubbornly as you trekked home. You couldn’t tell if the pain was even real, or if it was a side effect of the desperation and doom that filled your heart. As you reached your home, you collapsed against the front door, holding onto the door frame as a groan of pain escaped you. Before you knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet you.

When you woke, you weren’t on the ground. You found yourself in an uncomfortable cot, pain wracking through your body as you failed to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the doctor spoke, coming to help you sit up. You were sweating, and she carefully placed a cold wet cloth to the top of your forehead.

“What’s- what’s going on? Where’s Wilbur?” You stifled a groan as you spoke.

“He’s not back yet, none of the troops are. And you’re okay, you passed out when your water broke. You’re going into labor.”

“Fuck,” you hissed out, panting softly. You noticed now the dressing gown you wore, your original clothes laying folded in a pile in the corner.

“Take some deep breaths for me, you’re doing great, okay?” She instructed, and you nodded, taking a moment to just focus on your breathing.

“What- what time is it?” You asked in between breaths.

“It’s about to be seven.” She told you, turning as she sorted through medical supplies.

Wilbur should’ve been back by now. You didn’t know if you could do this without him.

“Your contractions are coming in about every five minutes, and they’re lasting about a minute. You’re not quite there yet, so you have time, alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, placing a hand over your belly as you prayed to any god that would listen that your husband would be returning to you in one piece, in time for him to meet his child. You’d never felt so alone at such a worse time. You had no midwife, no friends, no husband, just your doctor to guide you through this.

It was another hour before it was time. You didn’t want it to be, you wanted Wilbur.

“You’re dilated,” the doctor informed you, grim as you shared a thought on the lack of troops returning, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to start pushing.”

You shook your head, “No, I- I need to wait, please.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” She took your hand in hers, “We still have time, but you need to start.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew you couldn’t.

The sound of you yelling in pain during the next contraction was masked with another sound.

Yelling, first.

Then, the singing.

And finally, cheering.

It was only a minute later when heard the sound grow, of your people, cheering and singing in the streets outside. It was two minutes later when a medic rushed in, a smile on their face.

“They’re back!” They announced, before rushing to tell whoever they could.

You fought through another contraction as your heart lifted, panic filling you.

“Wilbur,” you spoke weakly, “Wilbur, please, please, find- find Wilbur.”

The doctor looked at you in concern, biting her lip for a moment.

“Okay. Okay, yes, hold on, let me- I’ll go try to find him, just hold on.”

You nodded rapidly as the doctor rushed out, going to find Wilbur. You gripped the sides of the cot as you groaned in pain, trying desperately to focus on your breathing.

When she returned, she was alone, “I-I couldn’t find him, but they’re saying he’s alive, don’t worry, okay?”

You let out a breath of relief, head falling back for a moment as you relaxed just as much as you could. She guided you through a few more contractions before you heard the most beautiful sound.

“Darling?!” You heard Wilbur yell, and you heard his voice get closer with each word, “Excuse me, please, hold on, Y/N!” He ripped open the door, gasping in relief once he saw you.

“Darling, oh my god,” he rushed in, coming in quickly to hold your hand tightly and place his other hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as he turned to the doctor, “How far along are they?”

“Breached,” the doctor informed, “Should be any minute now.”

He nodded, and you looked at him, “Will, I was so- fuck- I was so worried.”

He cooed, brushing your hair back, “It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here now. Darling,” he grinned, eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his hand and groaned in pain.

“Darling,” he spoke again once the moment had passed, “We- we did it. We won. We’re free.”

You gasped, pulling him into you, “Oh, my god,” you couldn’t fight the tears that fell from your cheeks, “We won?”

He nodded quickly, kissing the top of your head, “We won.”

You let out a sob of relief and joy, but it was quickly masked by another yell of pain.

“You’ve got this, darling, I’m here, we’re free, you can do this,” he told you, holding you close.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor spoke softly. Wilbur was with you on the cot now, and you both were exhausted for different reasons, but both with joyous outcomes. She brought your daughter over to you, the newborn swaddled carefully.

You gasped quietly when you saw her, taking her gently in your arms as you leaned against Wilbur. You looked up at him, tears in both of your eyes. He kissed you gently before looking back down at your daughter.

“Tallulah Soot,” he spoke softly, “Welcome to the free nation of L’Manburg.”

You chuckled, though it was slightly muffled from your tears. “The first citizen to be born under a free rule,” you spoke softly, a finger gently stroking her cheek, “Because we won.”

“We won,” Wilbur parroted, disbelief clouding his voice.

She woke both of you up early with her cries. You held her in your arms as the early morning light poured in slowly, and as you rocked her, Wilbur sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder.

Her cries softened, and as her big eyes stared up at you, you decided to tell her a story.

“Now, Ms. Lulah,” you spoke softly, “You won’t know this for a few years. But you were born during a very special time. Your father was amazing, he commanded a whole army of people.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, kissing your head, “You were born to two amazing people. One a commander, and one his political advisor who won his heart with their wit and brevity behind closed doors.”

You chuckled, smiling warmly, “Yes, even though he was a disorganized wreck when I met him. Every year, Ms. Lulah, there will be a parade on your birthday. Do you know why?”

Wilbur smiled fondly, “I don’t think she does.”

“Well, then I’ll tell her,” you hummed softly. You looked up, staring out in an empty field, filled with beautiful red flowers as the morning light softly reflected on dew drops that slept on grass. “Because, you, Ms. Lulah, were born on the day your father and our people fought to ensure your freedom. More importantly, you were born on the day they won.”

She let out a soft giggle – the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard – and you grinned lovingly, staring out at that field once more, that never again, would harbor the same bloodshed. As the sun poured in, you could see in your mind, her running in that field, picking those red flowers, and never once knowing of the same hardships that allowed crimson blood to pour on your land.

All she would know is the daylight.

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