Akiyama butler AU where he adopts little Saruhiko! Akiyama is living with Benzai and Fushimi is shy but Benzai makes his best effort ^^!
is this now the ‘Fushimi has two
daddies’ AU XD I’m assuming we’re going off this ask, say Akiyama
ends up adopting tiny Saru somehow, like he calls child services on
Kisa and Niki because they’re horrible and then adopts their kid or
they both get run over by a bus or something. Anyway, since Akiyama’s
the only one little Fushimi actually trusts he ends up taking the kid
home at least temporarily because he can’t let Fushimi just be taken
to some orphanage or given to relative, Fushimi’s still a shy and
timid kid and he doesn’t warm up to people easily because he doesn’t
really trust that they won’t be horrible to him. The only slight
wrinkle in Akiyama’s ‘adopt tiny Fushimi’ plan is that he doesn’t
live alone because he’s basically life partners with Benzai and so he
has to convince Benzai first. Benzai probably gives in decently
quickly, he knows Akiyama wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t truly
concerned for the kid’s safety and besides, Akiyama’s probably been
coming home from his butler gig for the last couple years or so
filled with righteous anger at the terrible piece of shit parents who
are neglecting their adorable tiny child.
a bit more wary though and it makes things a little difficult at
first, like Benzai’s not great with kids either so when he tries to
introduce himself Fushimi just hides behind Akiyama’s legs and
glares. Benzai isn’t entirely certain how one interacts with the
small child, he has a little sister but sisters are entirely
different from someone else’s child. Imagine him trying to find all
these awkward ways to bond except most of the things he thinks of are
like going to fancy cafes or running laps or studying law and Fushimi
isn’t really into any of those. Finally with no other options Benzai
buys Fushimi a giant stuffed cat and takes him to a cat cafe,
Fushimi’s not thrilled with all the germ-filled animals trying to rub
up against him and he’s slightly allergic anyway, but he gets to see
Benzai being a giant dork with the kitties and that actually calms
Fushimi down some and endears him more to Benzai, since clearly this
guy can’t be that much of a threat. Akiyama is so pleased that his
boyfriend and his new child are getting along, like just imagine them
all watching TV together on the couch with tiny Fushimi asleep
against Akiyama’s knee and Benzai asleep on his shoulder and it’s a
nice little family atmosphere.
idk if you're still taking writing requests, but if you are: do you have any thoughts on leia telling han she's pregnant with ben?
Leia spends precisely ten days Freaking Out About This.
To be clear, Freaking Out About Potentially Having A Baby (With Han Solo Oh Frag) gets somewhat buried below the fold, since they haven’t definitively won the war against the Empire.
(Killing Darth Vader and Darth Sidious does not equal defeating the Empire, Luke, whatever you tell handsome men in bars.)
Also Leia is coming to terms with the fact that apparently her biological father was Darth Vader? The most-feared man in the galaxy, the one who destroyed her planet and the people she considered her family, she feels a headache coming on every time she stops to think about it.
And whenever she’s in the same room(/shuttle/base/planet/system) as Han, it is so easy to just………let him distract her, he is very good at distracting her, which is how they ended up in this situation in the first place.
She’s busy, is the point.
Anyway, she takes ten days to low-key freak out about this, to turn her options over in her mind, because whatever her flaws (prone to fits of temper and a little emotionally withholding, yes, thank you Han) she’s not about to make a decision like this lightly.
Ultimately, she feels right having this child, this one—a child of Endor, the first child to be born without the shadow of the Empire hanging over him.
“With Han,” Luke says. “With Han Solo,” he repeats, when she says yes. “You’re really sure?” Luke asks, pulling a face of such brotherly disgust that Leia laughs, and throws her pillow at him.
It takes a while to wrangle it, because they all keep ending up at different ends of the galaxy—that war they’re still fighting won’t end, it’s terribly inconvenient—and she wants everyone to be there, Luke and Chewie and Han, all of them.
They’re all that’s left of her family, she wants them around her when she says, I am having a child, I think it’s a son. I want to name him Bail, after my father.
She fully expects Han to go white beneath his sunsburn, to hightail it from the base, from the system (she asks Chewie and Luke to guard the door, just in case)
But instead Han Solo smiles. His whole face transforms, opens up; he’s looking at her as he hasn’t looked at her in years, since he said, I’m a nice man, and there was enough wanting in the words to make it almost true.
“Really?” he asks, and his voice is so full of hope it cracks and spills out. “There’s—there’s a baby?”
“I don’t know how babies work,” he laughs, his hand spanning the not-even-swell of her stomach, because Han Solo doesn’t know how babies work, and hasn’t done ten days of obsessive research the way Leia has.
Prestor-Bail-Ben Organa—they never do settle on a name, right up until the moment he’s born—doesn’t kick until twenty weeks, at which point his father proclaims him a natural grav-ball player, and spends the next fourteen weeks crowing about it.
Luke claims that it’s a sign of some Jedi form that Leia doesn’t care much about, except that if they want to keep feeling her stomach with such intent and arguing about it, they ought to bring her something in exchange.
She suggests cookies, or hoth chocolate.
Honestly, the only other person in the whole endeavor who’s sensible about anything is Lando, who sends a beautiful crib carved of Endorian wood and the commlink of an excellent doctor, both with his best wishes. The note is signed: the “honorable” hold-parent. Leia is too amused to be annoyed.
Well, that’s not fair. Chewie is very sensible too, though Leia wishes he would stop referring to Prestor-Bail-Ben as a “cub” it conjures very hairy images she can’t shake.
(I hope you take after your mother, Han whispers to her swelling stomach one night, very late when he thinks Leia is asleep. Leia keeps her breathing even and slow, waiting— I’ll teach you to pick locks and pilot a freighter, Han says quietly. You can inherit my nose, if you really want. But otherwise….I hope you get everything else from her.)
It’s after the Battle of Jakku that Han finds her in the cheering crowd, his eyes wide with that immediate earnestness of the very drunk, shouting LEIA ORGANA WILL YOU MARRY ME, PRINCESS BE MINE
Luke is a few steps behind him, howling with laughter, a fair mixture of pity and amusement in his expression when he manages to straighten up.
“Ask me when you’re sober, flyboy,” Leia laughs, pulling them both into an embrace giddy with victory and peace and satisfaction. Except—
She doesn’t expect him to show up the next morning, dressed in the suit he wore on Yavin IV, a sober expression on his trickster features. “So,” he says, and fishes a small drawstring bag from his pocket. It’s not a flashy promise ring, just a simple band, songsteel etched with knot-work.
It’s so perfect that her throat closes up, she wishes she had put on something other than her nightgown and robe, even if there’s n one else around to see.
“How long have you had….?” “A kid should have a family,” Han Solo says, the fierce emotion in his voice belying his shrug. "And I love you, Princess. Whatever else, you know that’s true.”
“Commander,” she says, because she is going to proposed to with her proper title, damn it. “It’s commander.” He laughs. She offers her hand, and he slips the ring over her finger. “I love you, Commander Organa,” he breathes, and kisses her.
Princess (Commander) Leia Organa is married at seven months pregnant, Commander (Scoundrel) Han Solo looking at her as though she hung the stars in the sky and getting distracted when she smiles at him. Chewie wails, dramatically, as the vows are read.
Her brother (Master Skywalker, the first of the last of the jedi) has to help her kneel, she’s too far along to move without assistance. Han touches her elbow as she shifts uncomfortably on her knees, the barest brush of fingertips, his dark eyes soft.
She thinks this is what peace is supposed to feel like, as Han kisses her—delicately, his hands spanning the absurd swell of her stomach, feeling Prestor-Bail-Ben kick at his father’s palms. She cries, and blames the hormones. He pretends not to cry. Luke blows his nose loudly.
“I thought you would run,” Leia grits out two months later, riding another wave of contractions. She feels wrung out as an old rag, can’t imagine having any energy left to bring Prestor-Bail-Ben into the world. “Yeah, nice try, your Worshipfulness,” Han says. He’s gripping her hand almost as hard as she’s gripping his. “You broke the mercenary in me—what, five years ago? Now you’ll never get rid of me. I’m not even sure I remember what money is for.” “Liar,” she wheezes as the next contraction wrings her out, and Han grins, he grins.
They put Prestor-Bail-Ben in her arms, his little face screwed up as he wails, warm as—well, as inside her, and isn’t that the strangest thought, that this person was inside her, right up until a few minutes ago?
She doesn’t know how much room there was in her chest until she holds her son, and all of it floods with love, more than she’s ever known. Enough to ignite stars. (Later, Luke will say he could feel it through the Force, all the way at the other end of the hospital—like suddenly walking into a wall of light.)
“Cradle his head,” Leia says, and Han moves a hand to almost engulf their son’s small skull. He looks abjectly terrified and yet so proud her could burst—none of the nurses have commented on it, and so Leia assumes this is normal.
“Hey, kid,” Han Solo whispers to his son, this small child tucked up against his chest and making soft shapes with his mouth as he yawns. “Hey, I’m your dad. It’s me. How are you?”
Leia falls asleep to the quiet murmur of Han’s voice and the quiet tread of his boots as he walks around the room, rocking Ben in his arms, saying wait until we get you home, you’ll love it there; your uncle and I hung a holomobile with little x-wings, it’s great. Someday—