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zepskies · 2 months ago

Text

I'VE GOT YOU

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Being pregnant with a supe’s baby isn’t easy, even the second time around. The good news is your husband is all too willing to help you relieve a certain craving.

AN: This one was originally released on Mother’s Day, so if you're a mom, this one's for you! 💗💗 Before writing this I rewatched the episode of Friends where Rachel is at the horny AF phase of her pregnancy. 😂

This little one-shot is set after Calculated Risks, so we also get more of Lila, Ben and the reader’s daughter! By now, she’s about five years old, and the reader is pregnant with her second child: Ben’s first boy! You all know he's been waiting for this one lol. 💚

Word Count: 3.4K

Posted on Patreon: 5/11/2025

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father-daughter fluff, pregnancy fluff, married couple bickering, and some married couple smut. Domestic feels and happy endings all around 😉

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Frank pulled the car up through both security gates, tires rolling smoothly up the curve of the paved driveway. When the black Ford Escape finally stopped at the front of the house, Ben subtly breathed out his relief.

The Spanish Colonial-style home was more modest than he had wanted for his growing family. You had been firm on just two floors, a pool, and the double garage. But it was a welcome sight after almost a week in Wisconsin, of all places.

The mission had been to gather intel on some old Vought lab that Stan Edgar’s cohorts had tried to keep hidden, one where V24 was still being made like a high-tech meth lab, with twice the exploding power.

Closing the lab indefinitely had been an easy job. Blowing up a powder keg was relatively simple when Ben himself carried the world’s biggest match, conveniently stored in his chest cavity. But he was reminded why he hated the Midwest. A dusty fucking snooze fest.

And if he ever heard another one of Hughie’s stupid fucking cheese jokes, it would be too damn soon.

He was all too ready—as he was after every field trip with Butcher and his band of merry assholes—to come home to you and Lila. His wife and his kid. That was really all he needed these days.

Christ. He almost shook his head at the thought, after getting out of the SUV. As Frank drove off and Ben unlocked the security passcode to the front door, he had to wonder when he’d gotten so goddamn soft.

“Daddyyyyyyy!”

Before he could even fully raise his head, Ben had his arms full of his little girl. Five years old, and Lila was looking more and more like her mother every day—bright-eyed and beautiful, even with that gap-tooth smile. But he saw just as much of himself there in her hair just a little darker than his, her eyes a little more hazel than green, and a small scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, with a couple more dotting her cheek. He hoped she didn’t grow out of them.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ben greeted, unable to temper his smile. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she giggled at its slight roughness, thanks to his beard. “You been good for your mom?”

You were coming around the corner, from the kitchen if he had to guess. You set down the remains of a cheese and salami plate on the mahogany credenza in the hall.

“Sometimes,” you wryly answered for your daughter, “but maybe she’ll calm it down a few notches now that Dad’s home.”

He watched your slightly waddling gait with an amused grin. At six months, you were at the cusp of your third trimester. Ben swung Lila over onto one hip and reached out for you as you came into his orbit, smoothing a hand along the swell of your belly before his arm wrapped around your waist and gathered you to him. You held onto his arm in turn.

“Hey,” you said, smiling into the narrow space between your face and his. He welcomed himself home when he bowed his head for a kiss.

Lila squealed and buried her face in her father’s neck, as if she was witnessing a crime. You couldn’t help laughing, but you stayed in his arms even after breaking from his lips, resting your head against his chest.

In some ways, the separation when he went on missions with the team was good. It allowed Ben to work out some of the more intense energy he couldn’t always release at home, and it was no secret that you and your husband could butt heads over almost anything—from who didn’t replace the bag after taking out the trash, to just how long you were going to continue working from home for Supe Affairs before your son was born (albeit with your mom’s help in taking care of Lila).

Sometimes you and Ben just needed the break from breathing in each other’s general direction…and then finding something about it to bicker over.

“Jesus, you sound like a moose sometimes. Would you close your mouth?”

“How about you leave me alone, huh? I just worked out in the basement, and it’s fucking stuffy down there.”

“That’s because you still haven’t changed the air filter like I asked you three weeks ago.”

“Christ on a cross, enough with the damn filter! It’s fucking fine. I changed it last month.”

“No, honey, that was the vacuum filter. And you didn’t do anything. You held the garbage bag while I shook out three pounds of dust and pet hair.”

“You’re the one who wanted the fucking cat!”

“No, your daughter begged—”

Anyway.

Right now, you were fighting the (hormonal) sting of tears in your eyes. You breathed through it, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid frame and the familiarity of his arms. You rested your cheek against his chest, feeling his warmth through the smooth fabric of his sweater.

He noticed the way you held onto him a bit tighter. His brows raised, but he bent his head to brush his lips against your temple.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” your voice was thick when you answered, though you nodded quickly. “Just…missed this.”

Missed you.

You couldn’t see the way he smiled. He rubbed your back, while Lila tangled her little fists in his hair and continued to cling to his neck. Still, his entire world was right here in this room.

“Why did Mr. Cheese go broke?” Ben posed the question to his daughter that evening, after dinner and a family movie in the living room. He’d pretended to suffer through yet another rewatch of The Lion King, but he’d begrudgingly admitted it was good, for a cartoon.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the three of you were going upstairs. Lila was once again in his arms. This time she stretched herself out dramatically like a starfish and expected him to carry her like that up to her bedroom. He did so with a roll of his eyes, but he also had a supportive hand on the small of your back while you made your way up ahead of him.

You held onto the guard rail as you went. Your other hand braced your belly. Occasionally you huffed and puffed, but you were determined to get up these goddamn stairs and to your bed like a normal human.

“Ummm I dunno, why?” Lila replied to her father.

Ben’s lips twitched at a smirk. “He had too many runny asses in Wisconsin.”

Lila bit her lip, but a giggle poured through and shook her whole body. Ben curled his arm upward to hold her more securely, so she wouldn’t smack her head on the stairs. You rolled your eyes, your lips hinting at a smile.

Still, you chided him. “Ben.”

“What? Blame the co…” He cleared his throat at your sharp eye, glancing down at his daughter. “Blame Hughie. He wouldn’t shut up with that shit.”

“You said another bad word, Daddy,” Lila said, in that know-it-all tone she’d gotten into.

Sharp as a tack, this one, Ben thought wryly. If you weren’t a foot away, he wouldn’t care all that much what came out of his mouth. By now his daughter had heard plenty in his presence, or whenever she hung out with her “uncles,” Frank and Loco. But by the way you were looking back at Ben, raising your brows in a not-so-subtle challenge, he knew it wasn’t worth the headache.

“Yeah well, add it to my tab,” he said. He wrangled Lila up higher in his arms and swung her halfway over his shoulder. She screeched and giggled and clung to his back. Ben smirked at the resigned look on your face, but he urged you the rest of the way up the stairs with a playful smack of your ass. "Come on, let's go. We've been here for twenty years already."

"Oh, I don't wanna hear that from you," you shot back with a laugh. "I'm carring the equivalent of a watermelon here."

Ben just rolled his eyes, despite his smile.

Once you reached the top, you both went over to Lila’s room, first door on the right. The orange and white tabby cat, Simba, was already sleeping curled up on her bed as if he was waiting for her. Ben would still rather get a dog. He'd told you more than once.

"Something butch. And reliable," he said, while shoveling Cheetos into his mouth from his reclined state on the living room sofa. "Like a German Shepherd or a Great Dane. Not this lazy fucking Garfield. I mean, what's this thing good for? Whining and scratching my leg all the time for more kibble."

"He just wants you to pet him, babe."

"Damn needy," he muttered, all while the cat was purring, curled up in the crook of his arm while he watched the latest Giants game. Ben scratched Simba's cheek absently.

You shook your head with a smile and went back to work in your office. You only came out to the living room to ask your dear husband to turn down the damn TV.

“Okay, why did Mr. Cheese cross the road?” you offered.

“I don’t know, why?” Lila asked, playing along.

“To get to the other slice, of course!” you said with a smile.

Ben set Lila down on her feet, and the two shared a similar look. Unimpressed. At least your daughter had the decency to try and hide it.

Your lips pursed, but then you waved a dismissive hand and sighed.

“Okay, time for bed,” you said.

You and Ben tucked her in together that night. She was tired enough that she didn’t demand a story this time, for which he counted it as a small blessing. All he wanted to do was strip down and relax in bed with his wife, maybe catch up on his episodes of Deadliest Catch. He’d just have to ignore your teasing that he’d never once went fishing in his life, and likely never would, despite now owning an arsenal of extremely expensive fishing rods.

He ventured down the long hall over to the master bedroom, where you began to change into your nightgown while trying not to sulk.

“She used to think I was funny,” you complained.

“She’s developing a sense of humor. You should be proud,” Ben replied with a smirk.

You swatted him on the ass for that one, making him chuckle as you passed by. He hooked a hand on your arm and carefully guided you back to him, into the cage of his arms.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he warned.

In his eyes, you read a familiar spark of desire as they roamed over your deep green, silky maternity gown—a baby shower gift from Annie. But he tempered the spark behind a chaste kiss, more tame than usual for the past few weeks. You merely smiled against his lips, stroking his bearded cheek. Inside, you bubbled with a trill of nerves and arousal all at once.

Your second pregnancy had thus far been more tumultuous than your first one. It was similar in that you were experiencing intermitted bouts of super strength, but your hormones had been going haywire, leaving you with bouts of morning, night, and day sickness, breasts tender to the point of painful, and almost no position comfortable enough for you to lay down and rest your aching back.

Ben knew it full well and had been getting an earful of your pregnancy woes for the past couple of months (not to mention, your accusing side-eye). Weirdly, the constant shitty feeling of being rundown and on the verge of puking had begun to ease up when he was gone this past week…shifting into a different mode of insanely hormonal.

As in, bouts of severe horniness. You’d even had to consult the second drawer of your nightstand for some relief.

But now, you grabbed a fistful of Ben’s shirt and brought him down to you for another kiss. This time you led him deeper, luring him with your sensuous tongue slipping into his mouth. A groan of approval caught in the back of his throat, even though his brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice rougher, but still teasing as he squeezed your waist. “You done puking day and night, complaining about my dick and balls being the reason you can’t fit into your jeans?”

His lips brushed along your jawline, a tantalizing sensation, even though you could feel his smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“Charming,” you said flatly. “Just for that, I should leave you to stroke your blue balls for another night.”

Ben chuckled, but he also called your bluff, beginning to graze down your neck, his tongue flicking along the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the pleasurable zing of sensation, unconsciously leaning against him.

“Seriously, you feeling good?” he asked.

You felt the hesitation in his lips, which pressed a real kiss in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You smiled.

“Maybe,” you said teasingly. “And I might be craving more than oatmeal cream pies and Thai chili peppers this time.”

He snorted. “Thank fuck for small favors.”

You giggled, dragging your nails up and down his back through his shirt. You felt the suspect twitch in his muscles in response. So you slipped your hands back to his chest and gently pushed him backward. He raised his brows and took a step back, then another, until you could guide him into sitting on the edge of the bed. You stepped in between his strong, widespread legs and held his face in your hands.

His own were already beginning to roam down to your hips, giving them a nice firm squeeze. It felt so nice to be touched. It felt like every part of your body was waiting to feel something, wanting to feel good. You desperately needed him to touch you…

“But,” you said, holding a finger over his lips. “Um…I need you to go slow. Be careful.”

Ben’s brows furrowed. Did you really think he'd be too rough with you?

“We fucked plenty of times the first go around. Can't say I remember any incident.”

Your lips twitched at a smile. “Yes, but…I don’t know. I’m feeling more sensitive this time. I’m not sure what’s gonna feel good, what might be too much.”

Ben actually paused. He saw where you were coming from. It just irked him that you felt you had to warn him. He could see the concern and hesitance in your face, like you weren't sure if he could do what you were asking.

“Sweetheart,” he shook his head and pulled you closer, until your belly was nestled warm against his chest. His hands spanned your hips, large and strong, but only enough to feel secure. Grounding. “You think I don’t know how to take care of you, even now?”

Your breath hitched at the depths of his voice, the rumble of it going straight between your legs. He slipped his hands under the nightgown and kneaded the bare flesh of your thighs, somehow both firm and careful.

“Turn around for me,” he said.

You smiled, raising a brow, but you followed his lead. His touch never left you while you turned in his arms and let him slip your nightgown off. He tossed it to the side along with his shirt and pajama pants, then he guided you down to a seat on his muscled thighs. His movements were slow and calculated as he welcomed you back into his arms, brushing your hair back from your face and away from your neck. He nodded up at the dresser mirror straight ahead.

“Take a look, sweetheart,” he said. Meeting your eyes in the reflection there, he skimmed the back of his hand along your jawline. “Fucking beautiful. Now more than ever.”

Those words, he murmured into your skin. “Gonna give me a son. Then I’m gonna fuck another one into you, ‘til we got every fucking room in this house filled up.”

You laughed at that, despite the way your cheeks heated up at the gravel-laden promise.

“What’re you trying to do, assemble your own version of the Von Trapp family? Dress our kids up like Mormons and make ‘em sing songs?”

Ben chuckled. “Hey, they gotta earn their keep somehow. I’m the one who’s rich, not them.”

You wanted to point out, again, that it wasn't just his money, not to mention all the ways he was already spoiling your daughter rotten. But his teeth once again grazed your neck in a sharper nip, grabbing your attention. His tongue flicked along your earlobe, all while his fingers brushed the sides of your breasts and made your shaky breaths rise to meet him.

He cupped your breasts in his large hands and brushed his thumbs over each sensitive, hardened nipple. You let out a cross between a hum and a whine, arching into his touch and pressing back against his chest. You held onto his arms for a further sense of stability and security.

“You’ve been waiting for me, huh? I can tell. You’re all fucking locked up,” he murmured.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, breathless already, a delicious heat pooling in your center.

Eventually, he continued his exploration down the rest of your body, including the gentle swell of your stomach. He kissed down your shoulder, beginning to stroke the outside of your thighs back and forth. Steadily, he moved inward. His fingers became more grazing the closer he got to the apex of your sensitive inner thighs. A shiver ran down your spine.

You heaved a trembling breath. “Ben. Need you, baby.”

“I know,” he replied roughly, a contrast to his sensuous touch. “I fucking told you, I’ve got you. Just relax.”

He clasped his free hand to yours, steading you while his fingers began to tease your wet folds, slipping in between. He brushed and grazed a torturous back and forth. Until finally, two of his long fingers dipped inside your hot, weeping channel for a moment, before they moved back up, circling your clit.

Your breaths were coming out more raggedly now. You let go of his hand just to reach back and grasp at his hair. His fingers moved at just the right angle and you gasped, a delicious tendril of pleasure licking through your core. “Oh…fuck…mhmm…right there…”

Ben smirked. He knew. Because he knew every part of you, every angle that would have you shuddering, body contorting in bliss and pleasure. His favorite thing in the world, aside from being balls-deep inside your sweet pussy, was this. Playing you like a virtuoso, like a fucking First Chair violinist. He might change the notes, tease out different chords, but the end result was always the same—making you fucking sing for him.

While his fingers toyed with your clit, rolling the sensitive bud with firmer pressure, he spread your legs a bit wider with his knees and made more room for himself. Your hips rolled against his hand on reflex, chasing your release.

He used that to his advantage, grabbing your hip and guiding his cock into your throbbing heat in shallow thrusts. You both groaned at the feeling. Your hand tightened in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, surely threatening to rip out a few strands.

It only spurred him on. Ben worked you down over him as slowly as he could manage without busting prematurely at how fucking good you felt, wet and warm and already choking the head of his cock. He buried himself inside deeper and deeper while he stroked tight circles over your clit, until his cock was finally nestled in, filling you completely, hot and hard and perfect.

“Oh, fuck. Ben,” you whined. “Think I’m…”

Your core throbbed tightly around him for a few moments, making you shudder with pleasure. There he just held you to his chest for a minute, allowing you to catch your breath. You held onto his arms. You felt caged, but in the best of ways. You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, where his lips found your temple.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice deep and gravel rough.

“So good,” you nearly sobbed. You were pretty sure you came just then, with merely the feel of him fully seated inside you. You were brimming with pleasure…but it wasn’t just that.

Your heart felt so full for this man, it was nearly overwhelming. You grabbed his wrist and dropped a kiss onto his hand, his palm, and his still slightly wet fingers. He swept his thumb along your cheek in response.

“All right. Good,” he nodded, a bit breathless himself. He slowly smirked into your neck, self-satisfied and a hint devilish.

You smiled too when you caught him in the mirror. His hands returned to your hips and began helping you move, a rocking rhythm that led into his slow, purposeful thrusts. A new lance of pleasure curled up into your core, and a half-choked moan fell from your lips.

“Now the real fun begins,” Ben said.

AN: 😘 All right, some fluffy family moments, some classic BMD bickering, and some fluffy married couple smut. I think we checked all the boxes here! lol Let me know if you guys still want to go back in time and see their wedding, because I have a fun idea for a twist – complete with another Supe Affairs mission with unintended consequences. 🫢

Until then, I've been working on soon to be future chapters of Breaking Point (Russell Shaw x Reader). After that, I'll be working on a series to continue 10 'Til Midnight (Professor!Dean Winchester x Grad Student!Reader). So stay tuned for those! 💚

But on June 1, we're finally getting to another SB series! Unravel Me: the prequel to Lost in Translation (Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader). 💜💙

Join My Patreon ⟡ Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories. Top-tier patrons can even send me requests!

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when more stories drop! Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💚

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imaginespazzi · 2 months ago

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thinking of GH!Paige and her first mother's day with GH!Azzi and Stephie-bean 🥹

Picture Perfect ~ A GH!Verse Drabble

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Mother's day my lovies! I hope everyone is having a wonderful day, whether you're celebrating or not. I can't lie, this wasn't planned and I very much wasn't expecting to write, let alone finish, something like this today but I guess inspiration struck and I've missed Stephie and GH!Pazzi just as much as the rest of you. Besides, with the way I've been procrastinating, you guys deserved something, so I hope you guys like it <3

"Mommy," Stephie's voice starts off quiet, a soft tickle in Paige's ear as the little girl makes herself comfortable on the blonde's back, her tiny hands wrapped around her mother from behind, "wake up, Mommy."

Paige lets out a low groan, keeping her eyes shut as she buries her head further into her pillows, "it's Sunday Stephie-bean, five more minutes please."

"No Mommy," the six-year old whines, poking at Paige's cheeks, "you have to wake up now. Now, now, now, NOW!."

"I don't want to," Paige says petulantly, "I want to sleep and you know what sweetheart," she grins sleepily as she pulls her daughter -and even in this tired state just thinking of Stephie like that, as her child, makes Paige feel all warm and fuzzy inside- off of her back and into her arms, "you should go back to sleep too."

Stephie squeals as Paige barricades the little girl into a hug, squeezing her tightly against her chest like she's her own personal cuddly toy.

"Mommy," the little girl gasps dramatically, "can't," another gasp, "breathe."

"That's okay," Paige says nonchalantly, a soft serene smile on the blonde's face as she gently pats Stephie's head, "don't breathe sweetheart, just sleep."

"Top-notch parenting Bueckers. Real wise words right there. Don't breathe, just sleep. Exactly the words every parent should be saying to their child," Azzi's voice cuts through the room, teasing and light and-

Paige scrunches her face.

Azzi's voice is distant, far away. As in not coming from their bed. As in not coming from right next to Paige where she should still be. As in Azzi is already awake and out of their bed on this sacred sleep-in-able Sunday and that? Well, Paige thinks that's blasphemous really.

She doesn't open her eyes as she quirks an eyebrow in the general direction of where she thinks Azzi is, her tone leaking with betrayal, "why are you awake already? Why are you out of bed?"

"Because-" Stephie tries to say, her voice muffled by Paige's chest.

"Shhhh Stephie-bean," Paige quiets the little girl, her hands blindly feeling around so she can cover Stephie's mouth, "I'm talking to your traitor Mama right now. Can't believe you left me in bed alone like this babe. I thought you loved me or something."

"Or something," Azzi laughs, that fond, somewhat exasperated you're such a dork but you're my dork, she's had reserved for Paige since they were fifteen, "you're such a drama queen baby."

"First the betrayal? Now the insults?" Paige shakes her head in mock disbelief, "I can't believe you're treating me this way Az."

"Mommyyyyyy," Stephie whines again, trying to say something but Paige ignores her in favor of snuggling the little girl closer to her as she continues to talk to her fiancé.

"Come back here and make it up to me," the blonde demands and even though her eyes are still closed she can practically feel Azzi's rolling her eyes at her, "that's your punishment. You have to come back and lie in bed with us till the afternoon now. No exceptions."

"But Mommy," Stephie starts again, "she can't-"

"Of course she can."

"No she can't."

"Stephie-"

"Mommy-"

"C'mon Stephie-bean you know you want to go back to sleep too."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do-hmph!" Paige is blocked from speaking by a soft weight being pressed against her lips.

"Oh my god Mommy stop talking," Stephie says exasperatedly, tiny hands having finally pushed free so they can cover Paige's mouth, "now open your eyes," she pauses and then like an afterthought -probably in the form of Azzi's stern voice reminding her about manners ringing in her head- she adds, "please."

And Paige does as she's told, eyelids slowly fluttering open as she squints to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming through her windows. The first thing she sees is Stephie, dark brown curls framing a face that's staring at her with big, wide, eyes. Paige grins, the size of it stretching across her whole face.

This isn't new, not anymore. This is how Paige wakes up almost every morning, to the sight of Stephie- a golden hue around her daughter, like a halo around an angel- being the first thing she sees every morning. But it never gets old, never gets tiring and Paige never stops praying that every morning will start just like this.

"Good morning babygirl," she whispers, pressing her lips to Stephie's forehead.

"Good morning Mommy," Stephie replies happily as she gives Paige her own kiss on the cheek, before wriggling out of her mother's grip so she can sit on her stomach instead, a beaming smile on her face, "do you like my shirt?"

And that's when Paige sees it, her eyes widening as she takes in the graphic tee Stephie's wearing. Her breath hitches, the tears already threatening to fall. It's lavender -of course it is- and on it is a picture, -the first ever selfie of the three of them together, taken on the day before the blonde had, had to go back to Dallas to start making the transition to the Bay and she'd promised a tearful Stephie that she would come back- and above the picture, is a sign, in big, bold, darker purple lettering that says:

Happy Mother's Day Mommy and Mama!

Paige swallows a sob, her eyes drifting over Stephie to find Azzi leaning against the door, wearing the same matching shirt as their daughter, as she smiles at the scene in front of them. Her fiancé - god Paige loves saying that- sends her a wink when she catches her gaze, accompanied by a mouthed i love you and Paige swears she almost melts on the spot as she mouths her own i love you more back.

"Happy Mother's day Mommy," Stephie echoes, somewhat shyly as she brings the blonde's attention back to her.

"Thank you sweetheart. This is-," Paige chokes on her words, sitting up against the backboard with Stephie still firmly on her lap, "when did you guys come up with all of this?"

"When you were asleep," Stephie teases, "you sleep a lot Mommy."

Paige guffaws, "I do not."

"Do too," Stephie sticks her tongue out and Paige shoots her glare with no fire before flipping the little girl onto her back, making her writhe with laughter as the blonde's fingers start tickling her sides.

"Take it back," Paige yells, her own giggles mixing with the little girls as she continues her onslaught.

"No," Stephie manages to get out with all the determination of a stubborn six-year old, "I will stand for the truth!"

"You two are insane," Azzi remarks from the doorway, shaking her head at the two of them.

Paige stops what she's doing, her eyes finding Stephie's as they both smirk -mischievous and conspiratorial- at each other. The older woman nods once and then they're both flinging themselves out of bed and running towards Azzi, their feet thudding against the floor as they tackle the brunette, who lets out a loud shriek as she's pulled back towards the bed, the three of them falling onto the soft mattress in a tangle of limbs.

"Stop, stop, stop," Azzi says finally, "or I'll make both of you drink a green smoothie for breakfast."

That gets them, both Paige and Stephie immediately going still as they look at each other and then at Azzi -who's barely concealing a smile- in horror.

"Okay Mama," Stephie says fearfully, holding her hands up in surrender, "we stop now!"

"Yeah Az," Paige follows her daughter's lead, "don't threaten us with," she makes an exaggeratedly grossed-out face, "green stuff."

Azzi huffs, "the green stuff is good for you."

"Abso-utely not," Stephie practically gags as she disentangles herself from her mother so she can sit comfortably in between them, "pancakes are good for me!"

"Exactly Stephie-bean," Paige appraises, "pancakes are the best for you. We should have pancakes this morning. Mother's day special."

Azzi snorts, "you say that like I don't make pancakes every weekend."

"Well you're not gonna make them," Paige says with a smile as reaches her head over to steal a good morning kiss from her fiancé lips, resisting the urge to deepen it when Azzi hums into it, "it's Mother's day. We're going out."

"Ooooh can we go to that fancy new one Aunty J told us about?" Stephie chirps excitedly, "the one she says lets you have as many as you want and she ate so, so, so many that she threw up."

"Think it was the so, so, so many drinks she had the night before that made her throw up not the pancakes actually," Azzi mumbles under her breath and Paige laughs at the memory of Jana last week, striding into their house looking like she'd been through it, after a team nigh, out that Paige and Azzi -the domestic old heads they were now- had left from early.

"What?" Stephie asks, her nose scrunching up in confusion and she looks so freaking cute, that Paige can't help but press a quick kiss to her nose.

"Nothing sweetheart. Of course, we can go to the new pancake place," she says softly, her heart aching in the best way possible when Stephie rewards her with a bright, excited smile.

"YAY PANCAKES!" the little girl bounces on their bed happily before her eyes widen with a memory, "wait Mommy, stay here. I have to get you your t-shirt too."

"My t-shirt?" Paige asks, raising an eyebrow as Stephie slips of the bed.

The little girl gives her a look as she stop by the doorway and points to her own shirt and then Azzi's, "yes Mommy. We got you a matching shirt too and we're all gonna wear our matching shirts to breakfast, duh."

"Um wait no Stephie," Azzi calls out after the little girl, "I didn't agree to that."

"Yeah you did baby," Paige deadpans as she pulls her fiancé into her arms, nuzzling her face into the brunette's curls, "yeah you did."

Azzi sighs, melting into the warmth of Paige's embrace, "we're gonna look so silly."

"Oh absolutely," Paige agrees, pressing her grin into Azzi's shoulder, "but if that's what Stephie wants."

"You spoil her," Azzi chides but there's no real fire behind it.

"I love her," Paige corrects, her fingers slipping under the hem of Azzi's shirts, "and I love you. The shirt, it- it's-"

"It's corny," Azzi surmises.

Paige laughs, "it's perfect. Thank you for doing this for me today."

"It's your first Mother's day," Azzi shrugs as she turns her face towards Paige, reaching out a hand to rub her cheek, "I wanted it to be special."

"Every day with the two of you, every moment with you, me and Stephie, is special," Paige whispers, nuzzling their noses together.

"About that," Azzi bites her lip -her tell for when she's nervous- as she pulls away slightly.

"What is it baby?" Paige asks softly, brushing a loose curl away from her fiancé's eyes.

"I was just thinking," Azzi begins, her fingers fidgeting with the collar of Paige's sleep shirt, "this whole Mother's day thing, it's kinda lonely to plan by yourself you know? I mean I helped Stephie today but when she's older- when she wants to do things by herself for us, cause you know she's already dying to be that independent, it'd be nice- it'd be nice if she had someone else to help her."

Paige studies the younger woman's face, still a little confused as she tries to process Azzi's words, "what are you saying Az?"

Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, "I'm saying- next Mother's day or maybe the one after that- maybe instead of just a picture with the three of us on the shirt- it could- it could be a picture of four people. You, me, Stephie, and- and a baby."

"Azzi," Paige breathes out, her lungs constricting like there's flowers blooming inside them, the veins wrapping around her chest and squeezing tight. The image Azzi has just painted for her dances in her mind and Paige wants to reach out and grab it, make it hers, now.

"You mean it?" she asks cautiously, "you want that? Another- another baby?"

"Yeah," Azzi nods tearfully, her hands twisting around Paige's neck as she shifts herself fully to straddle the older woman, "I want it. I want it so bad baby. With you."

The sounds that escapes Paige's lips is indecipherable between a sob and a laugh as she cups Azzi's face in her hands, "then let's have a fucking baby," she whispers before smashing her lips against her fiancé's. It's a kiss full of promise, full of hope, full of dreams of a future that has never seemed clearer, never seemed more within their reach.

And it isn't until Stephie comes bounding in, a disgusted, "ugh you guys kiss too much," reverberating throughout the room as the little girl bounces onto the bed, that they finally separate from each other, lips chapped, eyes shining with giddy excitement.

Stephie regards them warily, one hand holding the lavender t-shirt for Paige, "why are you guys crying? Are you sad?"

"No sweetheart," Paige reassures the little girl, pulling her so she's enclosed between the two of them, "these are happy tears. Really fucking happy tears."

"Mommy!"

"Paige!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Paige apologizes for the profanity, immediately pressing a kiss to Stephie's cheek as penance, "it was an accident."

Azzi rolls her eyes, leaning her head against Paige's shoulder as Stephie shakes her head dramatically before launching into a tirade about everything she's going to eat at the new pancake place. Paige falls back against the headboard with her family in her arms and the dream of how to make their little world even more perfect, locked securely in between the palms of her and Azzi's entwined hands.

And as she slips into the slightly crumpled lavender t-shirt, Stephie and Azzi watching her with identical smiles, Paige thinks, she can't wait for that dream to be her reality, for three to become four, for the next Mother's day t-shirt to have a picture of her, her wife, their daughter and their little baby boy.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #gh!verse #idek what this is but it's got stephie so it can't be that bad!

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