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artificialqueens · 1 year ago

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Untouchable for Life, Chapter 1 (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

Admin Note: I'm so worry, Writ!! You should have been in the last queue, and I'm also sorry that it's taken me a million years to fix it after you told me. I have no excuse, I just completely forgot and I apologize deeply! -V

A/N: Summary: Anetra should be grateful for his new job as a photographer for the city's biggest queer tabloid. Especially considering how hard he fucked up before landing there. But it's all lost on him until he's roped into a special assignment, one that ties Sasha Colby into his life. But can the knots that bind him to his past be undone? Or will the cord he and Sasha walk on snap?

Sorry not sorry for all the puns in the summary fhdsjfk but I promise chapter summaries will have more specific to the chapters themselves and the story as a whole!!!

Anyways, remember how I said I'd never write another multichap bc they're too much stress? WELP! Thank you nickysjaida for encouraging me and athena for beta-ing, you're both so wonderful <3

Fic title from I Turn My Camera On by Spoon

Anetra sighs, dropping his head into his hands as his thoughts race. His boss watches in front of him intensely, almost to the point of scrutiny, but what can he do?

He doesn’t exactly have options here.

“I just don’t get why—“

“The board wanted you gone,” Michele shuts him down immediately. “Hell, they wanted your head on a platter! This is the best I can do for you. You either take it, or you go collect your things.”

“But I wouldn’t even get to write!” Anetra huffs. “Not even captions or anything!”

“I know,” Michele says coolly. “Why do you think I was able to negotiate this? You’re too good to lose, Anetra, but I guarantee if you walk, it’ll be the last time you ever work in journalism, photo or otherwise.”

Anetra groans. Michele is absolutely right—he fucked up, and fucked up big. Lose his credibility big. Sue the whole company big.

But does that really mean he has to go to Q-Beat ? He’ll be a laughingstock in the journalistic community— Q-Beat may be the most popular queer magazine in the country, but it’s barely above a tabloid. Hell, maybe it’s worse—they’re probably the only print mag he can think of that has more listicles in one issue than actual pieces, and the product placements are so obvious they might as well just say Absolut wrote the news updates.

There’s a reason the whole industry calls it Q-Bait as a joke.

But with the scandal he’s in, he can’t afford to negotiate now. If he wants to do anything other than Walmart Christmas portraits for the rest of his life, he has no choice but to take this job.

"Fine," he finally sighs, grabbing the contract and pulling it closer. "Give me a pen."

The Charles Media building is often referred to as a marvel of architecture in the city, and the reputation isn’t unearned. Standing under its sloped, pink-painted roof are twenty-five floors of different print outlets, each an empire in its own right. Anetra has to admit, it’s kind of impressive--from magazines to books, encyclopedias to graphic novels, if you can flip or scroll through it, you can find it nestled among the offices in the tower.

Perhaps most impressive, though, is the way the architects were clearly so committed to the bit when they designed the place. From floors one to twelve, everything is wide, spacious, and decorated in black and silver. The floors narrow slightly after that, and from thirteen all the way to its sloped roof, the building’s colour scheme is a deep magenta, with sparkle and hints of blush. And that’s just the outside--within the walls of 96 Tucker Avenue, things are even more colourful, bringing the entire aesthetic full circle.

The perfect shade of lipstick for the perfect media queendom, both inside and out.

At least, that’s the vision the company projects. Right now, Anetra feels anything but perfect—and from the way his coworkers avoid him in the elevator, he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

At least Q-Beat is near the top floor. Once the last few people filter out around the sixteenth floor, he has the elevator car all to himself, leaving him alone to try and collect his thoughts.

From what Anetra knows, the farther up the tower you go, the more isolated the group, meaning there’s a chance that no one at Q-Beat knows who he is or what he’s done. A perfectly fresh start. Good; his talent will speak for itself that way, and he can make friends based on that. If he even wants to--maybe friends aren’t such a good idea. The main condition of being able to keep this job was to lay low, after all.

Plus, the longer he tends to stay in one place, the less people seem to want him around. Especially now that he’s a liability.

It’s a thought that hurts, and he’s glad to be able to swallow it as the elevator comes to a stop at the twenty-third floor.

The sight that awaits Anetra as the elevator doors glide open makes his jaw drop.

Back on the eighth floor where Anetra’s old magazine was located, everything had been all business all the time. The walls and the floor were a stern black, with tiles that clicked under your feet as you walked. There had been almost no decor in the entrance either, other than a pair of leather chairs under a harsh silver sign directing visitors to various offices tucked behind heavy mahogany doors.

But on the twenty-third floor?

Anetra can’t help but feel like he might as well be on an alien planet. He had expected pink, had expected some sparkle and embellishment. But he had had no idea just how much of a culture shock it would be. It’s such a contrast, he barely knows where to start—though maybe the entrance is as good a place as any. The floor’s lobby is fully furnished with tables and chairs and even some floral arrangements, separated from the action by only a glass door and floor-to-ceiling windows that allow a clear view of the Q-Beat workspace behind it. The floors are plush zebra-print carpet, the walls an almost violent pink lit up by a fluorescent sign welcoming visitors to Q-Beat with cursive font. And when Anetra peers into the office space, he sees not a maze of cubicles, but an open floor plan that’s bustling with people in casual dress.

In other words, friendly coworkers and lax norms without anywhere to hide from either.

Fuck.

“Are you Anetra?”

Anetra snaps to attention and sees a tall blonde standing in the office’s doorway looking at him with anxious eyes.

"Oh, um… Yes?" He frowns. He was supposed to meet the editor-in-chief first, but this woman is in jeans and a tank top that shows off well-defined muscles and big tattoos, her hair fluffed up in an almost rockabilly style--definitely not like any chief Anetra has seen before.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" The woman's eyes narrow. "Because I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and only ten before my Ativan hits, so I really need to get a move on orienting you if you are."

Anetra decides right then and there that no matter who this woman is, he definitely likes her.

“I’m Anetra,” he tries again, stepping forward and extending a hand for the woman to take.

“Loosey LaDuca, she/her pronouns, editor-in-chief,” she shakes his hand firmly. But before he can drop his hand away, she grips it harder, pulls him forward through the glass doors and into the office.

“Let me introduce you to the others, they’re really excited to meet you.”

Crap.

—

Loosey’s tour of the Q-Beat workspace is a whirlwind, so fast that Anetra almost wishes he’d brought a notebook with him. Though that probably wouldn’t have done much to help him either; Loosey doesn’t even stop to breathe as she charges through the office with Anetra in tow, so he seriously doubts she would have let him slow down to write. At least he avoids seeing too much of the team this way; Loosey’s version of ‘introducing’ is more like drive-by name-dropping, and Anetra is perfectly content to settle for the waves he and his new coworkers exchange as he passes.

Good things can’t last forever, though, and sure enough, Loosey’s tour comes to a hard stop right in front of a large table surrounded by people who immediately turn all their focus on Anetra.

“This right here is our photography department. Well, two of them are,” Loosey rolls her eyes. “The rest of you, get back to work please?”

“Hey, they were working!” a short woman with hair almost as big as Loosey’s protests. “Half of them were reviewing the photos that are going to go with their article.”

“Uh-huh, and the other half?” Loosey retorts.

“Is this Poppy’s replacement?” The other woman left at the table pipes up quickly, a smooth change of subject accompanied by an even smoother smile.

“Oh, yes,” Loosey says, her eyebrows raising in surprise as if she’d forgotten Anetra was beside her. “Anetra, this is Mistress--” she points to the smaller woman, who nods curtly, “--And this is Salina. Ladies, Anetra is coming to us from News Summary Weekly , so things might work a little differently here than he’s used to. So be nice, Mistress.”

“Hey!” Mistress huffs when Loosey shoots her an extra-pointed look.

“You know I’m right,” Loosey rolls her eyes. “Now, will you guys take over from here? These pills are not doing what they’re supposed to, so I’m gonna go take a three-minute power nap before I have to talk budget for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Sweet dreams!” Salina calls after her, cackling when Loosey shoots her the middle finger over her shoulder in response.

Just like that, their attention is turned back on Anetra, giving him the distinct feeling of having been thrown to the wolves.

“So you’re from the political phonebook, huh?” Mistress starts in right away, her lip twitching as she looks Anetra up and down. “You’re certainly dressed like it.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Salina adds pensively, “Ain’t that the magazine with the guy who--”

“Sorry, what are your guys’ pronouns?” Anetra cuts in fast before Salina can finish that sentence, hoping to God the heat he feels rising in his cheeks isn’t visible to the two women before him. “I use he/him.”

“She/her for both of us,” Mistress answers with narrow eyes, her tone of voice skeptical. Anetra’s going to have to look out for her, he can tell. But at least Salina seems distracted enough—her attention is already back on her computer, which she wastes no time in sliding over to Anetra.

“Alright, newbie, come here and sit down, let me show you all the different softwares and shit we use in this department.”

It’s a close call, but he’ll take it. He smiles gratefully as he moves over beside Salina, leaning in close to get to work.

Pride Challenge Points: 2806

#rpdr fanfiction #anetra #sasha colby #anetra x sasha #s15 #loosey laduca #mistress isabelle brooks #salina estitties #t4t #t4t au #untouchable for life #writworm42 #fic challenge #aq pride challenge

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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Kiss it Better (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: when Sasha gets home from a rough shift, Anetra surprises her with the perfect self-care night.This one goes out to my partner for understanding that the perfect way to a burnt-out healthcare worker's heart is fast food, weed, silence, and orgasms.

This was almost just fluff, but I decided to make it smut; thank you x3000 to Athena for beta-ing and helping me choose the perfect ending <3

Title from 'Kiss it Better' by Rihanna

Anetra can tell that Sasha’s had a bad day at work just from the way the door almost slams when she comes home. One look towards her girlfriend’s direction just confirms it; Sasha hasn’t said a word yet, but she looks disheveled and distracted. Add in the fact that she’s an hour and a half late, and you’ve got a trifecta that Anetra knows means bad news.

“I’ve been pissed on, thrown up on, had an ostomy bag burst in my face, had to chase a patient to the parking lot after he extubated himself and bolted, skipped lunch to chart even though I skipped breakfast this morning too, threw out my back and did something weird to my neck, and had four patients die on me in the last two hours of my shift, which is a lot of paperwork,” Sasha doesn’t even look at Anetra as she stomps right past her towards the bathroom, “So unless you have like five Advil extra-strengths, an entire tub of ice cream, and a giant blunt, I’ll be in the bath using up all our Epsom salts.”

Well. They’re out of ice cream, but two out of three ain’t bad, right?

Anetra waits until she hears the water running to get to work. First she googles how many Advil extra-strengths are safe for human consumption in one sitting; next comes a text to Loosey, who she can always count on for an emergency McDonald’s run. Then she sets phase three into action, sliding into the bedroom and arranging everything else she’ll need for the perfect self-care surprise.

“Is this…” Sasha’s jaw drops as she comes into the bedroom ten minutes later, her hair wet and tangled and body wrapped in nothing but a towel.

“Mhm,” Anetra nods, unable to help but feel a rush of affection for her girlfriend at the gratefulness in her eyes as she surveys the scene Anetra has laid out for her. Dimmed lighting and a safe number of painkillers with some wine to wash them down. A freshly-rolled joint laid by the open window, a light spring breeze bringing a cozy coolness to the room. A big mac combo and oreo mcflurry laid out on a paper towel so Sasha doesn’t have to worry about making a mess or doing any dishes later. And on the dresser, an array of massage oils and lotions, plus a diffuser spraying lavender scent into the air.

“Come sit, baby,” Anetra pats the spot next to her on the bed, and Sasha obliges without another word. She eats fast enough for Anetra to almost be a little worried, but she knows by now that thanks to having absolutely no spare time at work, Sasha is an expert at swallowing without chewing. So instead of fretting, she grabs a comb and works through Sasha’s hair gently, letting her girlfriend enjoy the silence between them. She can see Sasha starting to relax with every stroke, and she takes a moment to massage her neck a little too, until Sasha gets up and moves to smoke without another word.

“Fuck, that’s better,” Sasha sighs contentedly as she snuffs out the rest of her joint and leans back against the wall.

“I’m glad,” Anetra says warmly. “So do you want the rest of your massage now, or save it for later?”

“Uh, now please,” Sasha laughs, looking at Anetra like it shouldn’t even be a question. “What else am I dating a massage therapist for?”

“Then shut up and get on the bed, bitch,” Anetra rolls her eyes, grinning, but scoots over nonetheless to give Sasha room.

“You gonna be able to focus if I drop the towel?” Sasha teases as she climbs up next to Anetra, hands hovering over her towel, to which Anetra simply answers by swatting her playfully on the ass.

“I might give a part or two special attention,” she hums as Sasha lays down, throwing the towel to the floor. “Now relax, and let me take care of you, okay?”

“Mhm,” Sasha closes her eyes contentedly as Anetra gets to work. Anetra works through Sasha’s body systematically, smoothing out every knot as she moves her hands over her girlfriend’s skin. It’s easy to do, for her; she knows every curve of Sasha, every quirk and sensitivity. She can turn her brain off and go by memory, savouring every happy sigh, every relieved moan, every shiver as another knot melts away under Anetra’s work. Her favourite soundtrack.

“Fuck, that’s better than sex, you know that?” Sasha moans when Anetra is done, a wide, dopey smile on her face.

“You say that every time,” Anetra laughs.

“Because it’s true every time,” Sasha retorts, sticking out her tongue at Anetra before pushing herself up and rolling over to look at her girlfriend face to face and show her more of that beautiful smile.

“Oh?” Anetra teases as climbs up beside her girlfriend, nestles into her embrace as she lands a kiss on her lips. “You sure about that?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Sasha grins, grabbing the back of Anetra’s neck to pull her in for another kiss. “Should we test it out, refresh my memory a bit?”

Anetra doesn’t say anything else, only moves her lips to Sasha’s neck. She starts off slow, kissing and licking and sucking as her hands find their way around the rest of Sasha’s body. Feeling and stroking and waiting to feel the goosebumps rise on Sasha’s skin, until she needs to start nipping and biting down gently to keep Sasha from squirming too much.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Sasha breathes out as Anetra’s fingers find their way to her hips, her nails digging into the older woman’s skin slightly. Anetra simply hums, her hand continuing its journey downward over Sasha’s thighs and coming to cup her between her legs.

“How about that?” Anetra murmurs, but Sasha doesn’t respond. Not that it makes much of a difference--the way Sasha’s eyes flutter closed and her head falls back against the headboard is all the answer Anetra needs. After one last kiss to her girlfriend’s neck, she pulls away to reposition, her hand wrapping around Sasha’s length as her mouth finds its way to the older woman’s breast. She sucks and strokes in tandem, swirling her tongue around Sasha’s nipple and twisting her wrist slowly, teasingly, just to work Sasha up. Within minutes, Sasha is beginning to squirm again, her breathing becoming more ragged with every move of Anetra’s hand.

“That’s it, so good for me,” Anetra brings her lips up to Sasha’s ear, close enough for them to graze its shell, “Doesn’t that feel nice, baby?”

Sasha opens her mouth to answer, but can only let out a guttural moan as Anetra chooses that second to speed up a little, grip Sasha’s cock just a little tighter. It’s enough to light a fire in Anetra’s own belly, but she pushes her arousal aside before it can get too consuming--she has a job to do, and she’ll be damned if she lets anything throw off her focus. So she closes her eyes against her own urges, focuses on breathing in the smell of Sasha’s body wash and the lotion she had used. Tunes in to listen for the little gasps and whimpers falling from her girlfriend’s lips, the ruffling of bedsheets under her twitching hips.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh my God --”

Anetra pumps Sasha through her orgasm, relishing the warm feeling of the thick white ropes as they spill onto her hand. Sasha, for her part, looks like an absolute dream, flushed and breathing heavily with her lips parted just slightly, her eyes still closed. And when she opens them again, there’s a cloudy quality to them, as if she just came out of a dream. It’s a picture Anetra never wants to forget, so she keeps her gaze unwavering as she licks the cum off of her hand, smiling mischievously. If it were any other night, she’d pay for that tease dearly, but despite the flair of arousal in Sasha’s eyes at the gesture, Anetra can tell that her girlfriend is too tired to continue. That’s okay; maybe it’s the lavender oil, but truth be told, Anetra is starting to get a little bit sleepy, too.

“C’mere, baby, come cuddle,” Sasha coos warmly, grabbing Anetra around her waist and pulling her close. Anetra yawns, resting her head on Sasha’s shoulder and nuzzling close, letting out her own sigh of relief.

They stay like that for a while, the silence heavy but warm between them, before Sasha moves again.

“Neech?”

“Mm?” Anetra hadn’t realized that her eyes had closed, but she blinks her sleepiness away as she opens them to look up at her girlfriend’s face.

“Thank you. For everything,” she leans down to kiss Anetra gently on the forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

Anetra smiles, nuzzling a little more into Sasha’s neck as she breathes out her answer.

“I love you, too.”

#rpdr fanfiction #s15 #anetra #sasha colby #anetra x sasha #lesbian au #smut #fluff #writworm42

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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The One Where Sasha Owns a Used Book Store (Anetra x Sasha) - Writworm42

A/N: hey y'all. Been a minute, but I’m back back back again. I’m sorry for the prolonged absence, but thanks everyone who’s stuck with me and encouraged me to keep writing. I have, in a way–I’m working on Come Hell or Full Circle chapter 6 still, though I was doing it slowly for a while due to some intense burnout. In the meantime, I’ve become obsessed with Anetra x Sasha–they’ve kind of re-lighted my interest in shipping and in writing. So here we go–my first drabble in a while. Thank you times a thousand to athena2 for helping me scrape up the courage to post this, to holtz for hyping up my writing, and to everyone who commented on my works on ao3 in my absence letting me know I was missed.

Alright, now that we’ve got the sappy stuff out of the way–here we go.

–

Sasha’s head snaps up at the sound of the bell, her heart pounding a little more than it should. Her hands freeze over the books she’s labeling and she cranes to see the entering customer, her breath catching in her throat.

Please be her, please be her…

She breathes out a sigh of relief, her face melting into a smile as a tall raven-haired woman comes around the corner, nodding to Sasha as she walks past the checkout counter just like she has every day for the past three weeks. The smile on her face, slight and shy and yet somehow knowing, is enough to make Sasha’s heart flutter, and she finds her breath taken away all over again, just like always.

“Hey there,” Sasha greets the woman, trying her best to keep it casual. “Let me know how it’s go–” she stops suddenly, her eyes widening and face growing hot as she hears the two sentences on her tongue blend together before she can stop them.

“It’s going good,” the woman shoots Sasha a quizzical look, but her smile doesn’t fade, only takes on a bit of bemusement. “How’s it going with you?”

Oh, just peachy. Just great, Sasha thinks to herself, her blush deepening. She glances down at the floor, cursing the fact that there’s no hole opening to swallow her up.

“It’s–I’m good,” she stutters out. “Just, um, pricing some new stuff someone brought in yesterday.”

“New stuff?” the woman perks up, making her way over to the counter. “Sweet! Can I see?”

“Mhm,” Sasha grins, sliding over some of the already-labeled paperbacks. “Mostly pulp fiction. I think the person used to be a collector or something.”

“That, or they really like lesbian smut,” the woman whistles, holding up a beaten-up book emblazoned with two barely-dressed women on the cover, the title Her Naked Secret splashed in large font over the illustration.

Fuck. She’d been so distracted by the woman’s arrival that she forgot which pile was which genre. Which means that every single title in that stack was…

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–” she scrambles to swipe the pile of erotica away, but the woman just laughs.

“It’s okay,” she grins, shaking her head as she lays a comforting hand over Sasha’s own. “So do I.”

Wait. Hold on. Is this woman actually–could it be that–

Oh my God. Sasha’s heart is pounding so hard it’s in her throat, and it’s all she can do not to start stammering all over again as she looks down at the beautiful woman’s hand on top of her own. But the woman must notice Sasha’s silence, because she pulls back suddenly.

“Too much?” she winces.

“A little,” Sasha laughs. “But don’t worry about it. It’s nice to not be the only awkward duck here.”

“Awkward duck, huh?” the woman repeats to herself, her mouth spreading into a grin as she looks back up at Sasha again. “I like that. I’m gonna steal that. Thanks, ah…”

“Sasha.” Despite the pounding in her chest, Sasha smiles breezily. Now that the ice has been broken, albeit a bit awkwardly, everything feels a little lighter. A little more normal.

“I’m Anetra,” the woman sticks out her hand again, which Sasha takes, her stomach flipping at the feeling of how soft Anetra’s skin is.

“Anetra,” Sasha repeats. “Pretty.”

“Me, or the name?” Anetra teases, but from the twinkle in her eye, Sasha can tell that it might not be as much of a joke as she’s letting on.

“Both.” Sasha tries to make her voice confident, as if she doesn’t feel as if she’s going to throw up. In a sudden burst of courage–or maybe it’s just a half-baked attempt to make herself believe she’s brave–she swipes her thumb over the back of Anetra’s palm, suppressing a shudder when Anetra’s breath hitches. But as Sasha’s hand drops, Anetra recovers, and that beautiful knowing smile is back, a little cockier and a little more meaningful than before.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Anetra winks. “Which reminds me… I’d like to buy this, please.” she grins cheekily as she slides Her Naked Secret over to Sasha, who can’t help but laugh.

“Having a private night in?” she jokes as she scans it, but Anetra just shakes her head.

“Nope,” she grins. “But I am gonna do this–” she opens the book, then promptly tears off the table of contents.

“Hey, you can’t–”

“–And then I’m gonna do this,” Anetra flips open her purse to pull out a peb without so much as skipping a beat, “And then this.” she quickly scribbles before handing the page back to a completely dumbstruck Sasha.

“Text me some time, yeah?” she winks one last time before putting a five dollar bill over the paperback, then turning and walking out without another word.

Sasha looks down at the numbers scrawled across the piece of paper and smiles to herself, a warm feeling flooding her chest.

When the exit bell chimes, Sasha doesn’t look up–she’s too busy opening her phone, already planning what to write.

#rpdr fanfiction #s15 #anetra x sasha #anetra #sasha colby #lesbian au #drabble #writworm42

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artificialqueens · 1 year ago

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🏳️‍🌈 Don't Call Me on my Bluff (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: Summary: in which Sasha needs to take care of business before she can take care of Anetra.

Thank you slutnetra & ria for the brainrot that started this fic, petitmonde for the pep talk that finished it, and athena for the beta-ing that made it post-able. Please note that I tried some new stuff for this fic--big TW for graphic depictions of violence.

Title from Bitch Better Have My Money by Rihanna

Sasha fucks into Anetra hard, pulling the younger woman's ponytail like a leash to jerk her ass back onto Sasha's dick. Anetra gasps and moans, gripping the surface of Sasha's desk for dear life as the sheer force of each snap of Sasha's hips practically pushes her doubled-over form right into it.

"That's it, good girl…" Sasha murmurs down to Anetra, though her voice is quiet, almost distant. It's not intentional, necessarily. Normally, answering emails while fucking her girlfriend would hardly be a challenge.

Unfortunately, Sasha has had to deal with quite the mess all morning. And for once, she's not talking about the one currently about to come all over her brand-new antique desk.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck , I'm so close--"

Sasha closes her phone and slides it into her blazer pocket, speeding up as she prepares to turn her full attention to Anetra.

At least, she means to--just as Sasha opens her mouth to egg Anetra on, her phone rings.

"Hold on, baby, one second," Sasha frowns as she fishes for her phone, her thrusts shallowing as she answers the call.

"John Anders is here for you, Ms Colby," Sasha's doorman informs her.

Fuck. He's early.

"Send him in," she tells the doorman, sighing as she brings her movements inside Anetra to a stop.

"Wha--"

"Our guest is here, sweetheart," Sasha sighs as she pulls out. "We're gonna have to finish this later."

"But I--"

"Fix your dress, baby," Sasha adjusts herself as she gives the command. "Our guest has wandering eyes, I don't want him getting any ideas."

"Just tell him to wait!" Anetra pouts, her leg twitching as if she’s itching to stamp her foot. It’s a tempting suggestion; Sasha’s cock is straining against her pants, and her belly is burning with desire to see Anetra come undone underneath her.

But deep down, Sasha knows if she’s going to truly enjoy herself, she needs to get this over and done with. So she pushes her desires aside, shaking her head as she extends a hand to tuck her fingers under Anetra’s chin.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” she sighs apologetically. “Daddy needs to get this done as soon as possible, then we can finish where we left off, okay?”

“This is so unfair,” Anetra huffs, rolling her eyes. It absolutely is, Sasha thinks, but what’s done is done--any second now, her doorman will knock and their guest will arrive, so business is unavoidable.

Thankfully, there is one saving grace to the situation, one that always cheers Anetra up.

“You know,” Sasha smiles, grabbing Anetra’s hand to pull the younger woman on top of her lap as she sits down, “If you want to stay for the meeting, there is something you can help me with.”

“That sounds boring,” Anetra says apprehensively, and Sasha has to hold back a laugh.

“I promise, baby, it won’t be--in fact, if you’re willing to stay and be patient while daddy takes care of business, I think you’ll have a lot of fun at the end of the meeting.”

Sasha watches with satisfaction as the realization dawns on Anetra. A twinkle lights in Anetra’s eyes as a smile spreads on her face, and she nods eagerly.

“Good girl,” Sasha laughs, kissing Anetra on the cheek. “Now here, baby, roll this for daddy, will you?” She slides the rolling tray waiting at the corner of her desk over to her girlfriend, “I could use a smoke.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, bringing the discussion to a close.

Alright, Sasha. Game face .

“Come in!”

Anders looks nervous as he enters the room, though it's obvious from his frankly unconvincing scowl that he's trying not to. Sasha doesn’t bother standing up; instead, she waits for him to approach, extending the hand that isn’t around Anetra’s waist for Anders to kiss.

“Pleasure to see you, Mother.”

“Have a seat,” Sasha says coolly. A strange look flashes in Anders’ eyes, but it smooths out as he sits down across from Sasha, clearing his throat as he leans back. There’s a beat, a moment of silence that Sasha knows is awkward for the man in front of her. Good; it’s when things are awkward that jitters spill over and people run their mouths, cracking without Sasha having to lift a finger.

Unfortunately, Anders is better at handling his anxiety than Sasha had hoped.

"Is it necessary for her to be here?" Anders frowns as he looks Anetra up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching. Anetra bristles, relaxing only when Sasha strokes her side soothingly with her thumb.

"Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her," Sasha shrugs, leaning back in her chair to take a puff of the blunt Anetra had just finished preparing for her. "Isn't that right, kitten?"

"Mhm," Anetra hums, sticking her chin out for Sasha to place the joint between her waiting lips.

“I just think that—“

“You know, funny thing about that,” Sasha watches as Anetra exhales a thin cloud of smoke, her whole body relaxing a bit against Sasha’s own. “I don’t remember asking what you think. Do you remember that, baby?”

“Don’t think so.” Anetra fixes Anders with an almost predatory look, her lips curling into a smile. She’s enjoying this too much, Sasha thinks; if she doesn’t slow Anetra down, their cards might get drawn too early by mistake.

“Patience, baby.” Sasha opts to disguise her warning with a kiss against the shell of Anetra’s ear. “Let daddy work first.”

Anetra makes a discontented noise, but relents nonetheless.

“So let’s cut to the chase,” Sasha turns her attention back to the man sitting across from her. “Do you know why I called you here today?”

“I assume to talk business,” Anders says, his tone brusque. Anetra stirs, and Sasha quiets her with a kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t like how he’s talking to you,” Anetra burrows her face into Sasha’s neck, her murmur so quiet Sasha doubts Anders can hear. Honestly, it’s probably better that way. Anders looks nervous because of Anetra’s whispering, as if the fact that he can’t hear what Anetra is saying is destabilizing him.

Sasha will have to thank Anetra for that trick later.

“You know, I like you, Anders,” Sasha sighs, running a hand through Anetra’s hair. “You’re good at what you do. Professional. You get your job done quickly without asking too many questions.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Anders clears his throat. The look in his eyes has lost its hard edge now, and it’s plain to see that he’s losing his footing.

“We need to talk about the Rembrandt.”

“I don’t see why,” the man bluffs, and Sasha resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Baby, why don’t you show Mr Anders what I’m talking about, hm?” She sends Anetra off her lap with a tap to the younger woman’s ass, watching bemusedly as Anetra flounces over to the filing cabinet beside Sasha’s desk. Anetra stares at Anders wickedly as she fishes the key out of her bra, pulling out the requested file almost instantly without breaking eye contact.

“He sweats a lot,” Anetra giggles as she takes her place back on Sasha’s lap, licking her lips.

“Hush, baby,” Sasha pinches Anetra’s thigh in warning. Anetra hasn’t been able to attend one of these meetings in weeks, and it’s clear the resulting boredom has been getting to her--if Sasha doesn’t reign her in fast, Anetra will wind up jumping the gun, and Sasha won’t be able to get what she needs.

She decides to hold Anetra extra close as a safeguard even as she pushes the dossier over the surface of her desk.

“I paid you two and a half million to make sure the sale was untraceable. Tell me, does this look untraceable to you?”

“I… I don’t--I don’t know what you…”

“ God , I want him,” Anetra whines, her feet kicking just a little in displeasure when Sasha ignores her.

“Take a look if you don’t know what I mean,” she spits. “But I think you’ll see quite clearly where you so carelessly left footprints. It cost me almost three million more to cover those up, you know.”

“Well, mistakes happen, Mother--”

“Oh, I know they do,” Sasha sighs. “And like I said, Anders, I like you, so I was prepared to just chalk it up to that. But you see this little kitten here?”

Anetra practically purrs as Sasha strokes a hand through her hair, laughing softly.

“Why don’t you tell our guest what you found while you were looking through those papers, baby?”

“He did it on purpose,” Anetra points out with a smile, reaching over the desk to point right at the centre of one of the splayed-out documents. “You can see it at the bottom of this page here, there’s a transaction of an additional half-million to an off-shore account that we don’t own. And then you can see in these transcripts of your Swiss account that someone from Russia was looking into it. And then look at this, daddy--the Rembrandt never made it to the buyer, it got intercepted in Chechnya. And remember how you called Smith after, and asked him all those questions? And then Smith called Ngo, and Ngo called Babanin? She said someone paid Mr Anders a lot of money to take the Rembrandt away from you. And you were gonna find it, but then the police knocked and we had to make the problem go away?”

“I do remember,” Sasha laughs hollowly. “Tell me baby, what did the whole ordeal wind up costing me?”

“Five and a half million, daddy.”

“That’s right,” Sasha echoes. “Five and a half million fucking dollars, and I didn’t see a cent of the original eight million sale.”

“Well, I can hardly be blamed--”

“Except you can,” Sasha cuts Anders off the pass. “And you will be. Tell me, Anders, how much did the thief pay you?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Babanin already did,” Anetra sniffs. “She said you got a whole ten million this time.”

Anders says nothing, but his face pales, mouth opening and closing like a cartoon fish before he sets his jaw desperately.

Bingo.

“And you have the audacity to come in here and call me Mother,” Sasha laughs harshly.

“So here’s what’s going to happen, Anders,” Sasha takes another puff of her joint as Anetra starts practically vibrating next to her. “You’re going to reimburse me every cent I spent on the deal, then give me what’s mine. Fifteen and a half million by tomorrow evening, you understand?”

Anders hesitates, and Anetra tenses.

“I can see you’re apprehensive,” Sasha smiles. “So let me sweeten the deal for you a little, alright? Starting with my girl here.”

She grabs Anetra by the chin, pulls her in for a deep kiss.

“You see, my baby’s a very playful person--she just loves all sorts of games. Problem is, she tends to get a little… excited when she’s playing. Poor thing breaks her toys so fast, Mother just can’t keep up! It’s a real shame--her tantrums aren’t very pretty, you know. Scares lots of new friends away.”

Anders swallows hard. “And this concerns me because?”

“Because she loves playing with boys especially, and I’ve heard you have five of them back home who she’d love to play with,” Sasha smiles. “Your youngest even just turned the same age as her--a perfect new friend to introduce her to! Wouldn’t you like that, sweetheart?”

“I love playdates,” Anetra muses, licking her lips. “Am I getting one, daddy?”

“Well, that depends,” Sasha purrs. “If I get my money, then sorry, baby, you’ll have to wait. But if I don’t, then I’m sure young Matthew will really love playing with you. What’s that game you like, baby? This little piggie, I think?”

“You’ll get your money,” Anders croaks. “You have my word.”

“I had your word last time, too,” Sasha says dryly. “Call your bank now, while we’re watching. Then I’ll believe you. Ah, ah, ah--I don’t want you calling a decoy on me. Give me your phone.”

The call takes less than ten minutes, but it'll take about 72 hours for the money to hit Sasha's various accounts. Not what she was hoping, but it doesn’t really matter; good things come to those who wait, after all.

And that goes doubly for the woman on Sasha's lap, who looks like she might burst any second.

"So are we done here?" Anders huffs after Sasha passes his phone back to him.

"You and I are done, yes," Sasha chooses her words carefully as she nods to Anetra, who smiles.

"Hold on," Sasha interrupts Anders, stopping him in the middle of standing up from his chair.

"Yes?" His voice is apprehensive, and the fear in his eyes makes Anetra squirm with delight on Sasha's lap.

"I said you and I are done, John." Sasha lets her hand drop from Anetra's waist, taps her back to signal that it's her turn. "That doesn't mean you're free to go."

"Mother, please--"

"Have fun, baby!"

Sasha leans back in her chair, closing her eyes to listen to Anders' screams as Anetra pounces, pulling her knife from her dress pocket in one smooth motion.

"This little piggie goes to market, this little piggie stays home!"

Anders makes a choking noise as Sasha snuffs out the rest of her blunt. She doesn't dare look to see which finger Anetra chose to shove down his throat.

"This little piggie had roast beef—“

Sasha just hopes Anetra has the decency not to go too wild this time--last time she played with someone this way, Sasha was picking shreds of skin out of the carpet for days afterwards.

“—And this little piggie had none!"

Jesus, Sasha's dry-cleaning bill is going to be astronomical this month.

"And this little piggie went…”

" Please, please, please!"

"... Aaaall the way… Home!"

Sasha opens her eyes right as the blade of Anetra's knife lands between Anders' own.

"He ruined my new dress," Anetra sighs glumly as she turns back to Sasha with a dejected frown on her face as she points to the deep red stains wetting her shirt.

"I can see that," Sasha nods. "It's alright, baby--we can get you a new one.”

The offer seems to placate Anetra, who brightens up instantly.

“Say, think we’re gonna wind up meeting his sons after all?” Anetra brings her knife to her mouth, smiling as she licks it clean.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Sasha shrugs. “You know how families like ours can get--unless they’re much smarter than their dad, it’s only a matter of time before they visit.”

"True," Anetra folds her knife closed, slides it back in her pocket before reaching for Sasha’s hand instead. "Think I can come up with a new game for them before then?"

"Anything's possible. Now come on, sweetheart. Let's go upstairs so you can thank daddy for the playdate, yeah?"

The pep in Anetra's step as they go is almost adorable enough for Sasha to forget what they've just left behind.

Sasha’s breath comes out ragged as she thrusts in and out of Anetra, the younger woman’s hands tight around Sasha’s neck. Even filed down into ovals, Anetra’s nails dig into Sasha’s skin so hard that Sasha knows it’ll bruise, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Mother can do what she wants, after all.

“Daddy, daddy, fuck , I’m so close, shit--”

“I know, baby, I know,” Sasha gasps, snapping her hips harder. “Just a little bit more, yeah? Hold it a little longer for daddy, there’s a good kitten.”

Anetra’s eyes roll back, her grip slackening and mouth dropping open as Sasha changes her angle slightly, picks up the pace.

“That’s right, baby, that’s good,” Sasha praises. “Fuck, you look so good like this, taking my cock so well.”

Anetra beams, the praise spurring her on to tighten her grip on Sasha's throat again, grind down to meet each of her thrusts a little harder.

"Don't stop," she pleads, "Even if-- shit --even if I come…"

"Oh, don't you worry," Sasha laughs, "Believe me, baby, I'm not stopping until you're not walking."

As if on cue, Anetra tips over the edge, her whole body shuddering and arms falling to her sides as Sasha fucks her through her orgasm. It’s a sight that’s mesmerizing; Anetra looks so delicate like this, so vulnerable. Like Sasha could destroy her utterly and completely, and she wouldn’t care at all. In fact, Sasha knows Anetra doesn’t, because the very next second, she dissolves into a puddle of gratitude, thanking Sasha over and over again for reducing her to such a state.

“Not yet, baby.” Sasha hushes Anetra with a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “I told you, daddy’s not done yet. You had your chance to play, now I’m going to have mine.”

“You don’t need to make any more calls?” Anetra frowns as Sasha starts to move inside her again, letting her hand slide from Anetra’s mouth to close around her throat.

“Not tonight, baby,” Sasha laughs, picking up her pace as she feels her own orgasm approach. “Tonight, business can wait.”

Pride Challenge Points: 1435

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha colby #anetra #anetra x sasha #t4t #smut #lesbian au #trans character #(s)#fic challenge #writworm42 #tw violence #tw daddy kink

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49 (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: 3 years after a life-changing and career-ending attack, Sasha comes back to the piano with Anetra's help.

TW transphobic violence, though not written about in detail. Chopin is my absolute favourite composer and in tough times, I cling to his music. I hope I gave him a fitting tribute. Title is one of his pieces; I tried to pick one that fit the fic's mood, but lmk what y'all think! I highly encourage everyone who's not familiar with his music to listen to the songs named in the fic as well, they're all beautiful.

Thank you Athena for beta-ing & hyping me up. Please note, I'm not a guide dog user, but I did try my best to research. If anyone who is a guide dog user has any feedback for me, please let me know!

It makes the news the night it happens, and stays on the news for weeks.

First transgender winner of International Chopin Competition attacked at awards ceremony. Even three years later, the thought of it opens a pit in Sasha’s stomach that makes bile rise in her throat. The hospital stay where all the nurses treated her coldly, where she didn’t speak the language they spoke to each other, sometimes right in front of her, and only knew what she was told despite having so many questions. The way she had been only half-conscious most of the time between the painkillers, anesthetics, and ICU delirium. The pain, so much fucking pain. Being wheeled from surgery to surgery, never knowing when the last one would be.

Blinking and blinking and blinking, but seeing nothing but clouds and muted colours. A fog she’d never be able to get out of, no matter how many ophthalmologists she consulted.

She brings her hands to her face, the phantom burn of acid tearing over the bumps of her scarred skin as her throat tightens, her heart speeding up. Her mind’s eye was 20/20, suddenly maybe more. She could see the crowd on their feet, hear the thundering applause, feel the weight of the award plaque in her hands. See the shine of the gold medal as it extended towards her, only for a collective gasp to draw her attention away, away from her joy and towards a man’s face twisted in disgust and anger, the open jar in his hand flying towards her--

“Baby, baby, breathe. Breathe.”

Sasha blinks at Anetra’s voice. The music that had been playing on the radio came to an abrupt stop. Chopin’s Grande Polonaise Brillante. The piece she’d been trying to forget for three years.

“You’re safe,” Anetra repeats, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Sasha feels the phantom pain fade, replaced by the prickle of hot tears at the corner of her eyes. It strikes her as incredibly ironic in a cruel way--of all the things that attacker had taken from her, he had somehow managed to miss her lacrimal ducts. Or maybe the surgeons had just saved them. She supposes she should be thankful--no, knows she should be. And she is, most of the time.

It’s just that right now, she feels ugly all over again.

Sasha’s psychologist had encouraged her to start listening to Chopin again about six weeks ago. It had been extremely difficult at first; she barely made it through half of the Wrong Note Etude before Anetra had to step in and help Sasha calm down. But it had worked—slowly but surely, with Anetra by her side, she could make it through a playlist without needing to do much more than deep breathing. And even though sneak attacks from the radio were difficult, just picturing Anetra leading her through a breathing exercise was enough to help her come out the other side unscathed.

“Would it help if I hold you?” Anetra asks, as if the answer isn’t almost always yes. Sasha nods anyway, leaning in for Anetra to wrap her in a hug.

“We can reschedule, you know--if it’s not a good day, I mean.” Anetra says quietly after a few minutes, stroking her fingers through Sasha’s hair like she knows she likes. It’s a tempting offer, but Sasha just shakes her head.

“We already reserved the music room,” she sighs. “Besides, if we waited for a good day…”

Anetra nods, not even needing Sasha to finish the sentence. They set today to reach this goal so that there would be a firm time, less room for Sasha to second-guess and back out just like the last two attempts.

She’s made up her mind--for better or for worse, she’s going to sit at a piano today.

“I think I’m okay now,” she pulls away from Anetra after another minute, heaving herself up to stand again. “I’ll go get ready.”

The drive to the community centre is relatively short, but feels like an eternity for Sasha. They drive in relative silence except for the occasional yawn or sneeze from Sasha’s guide dog Busby, a chocolate lab with as much personality as Sasha and Anetra combined. They don’t dare put on any music for fear that something upsetting might come on the radio, and Sasha can’t think of much to say, anyway. So she reaches her hand out into the back row for Busby to move towards and hit his snout up against, allowing the cold, damp feel of his nose to ground her.

“We’re here,” Anetra advises as they turn into the parking lot, and for a second, Sasha falters. They’re doing this, they’re really doing this. it’s freeing to think of, yes, and she’s proud of herself, but… The battle’s not over yet. They’re still in the parking lot. They have to actually walk in, have to actually open the door to the music room, have to actually walk up and sit down and then what if the piano bench isn’t big enough for the both of them, what if there isn’t even enough space for Busby to sit by the piano and he has to stay by the door and so she’s trapped, trapped sitting on a bench because she doesn’t know her way around the room and Anetra will be far and Busby will be far and it’ll be a disaster--

“Hey.”

Sasha jolts to attention at the sound of Anetra’s voice and the feeling of her wife’s hand on her shoulder.

“The room has an upright, I think it’s a Yamaha. It’s arranged on the far side of the room so there’s room to move around freely. The piano bench fits two and Busby can sit beside you.”

“How did you--”

“I know you is how,” Anetra laughs. “I visited the room last week just to make sure all the logistics would be smooth for you. For us,” she adds, moving her hand down to grab Sasha’s and give it a comforting squeeze.

“I love you,” Sasha sighs, the warmth of gratitude and affection flooding her chest.

“I know,” Anetra says, and Sasha just knows she’s smiling.

They walk into the community centre together, Sasha holding Anetra’s hand in an iron grip. Even though she can’t technically see, Sasha swears she can feel a million pairs of eyes watching them as they move through the building. She can’t decide which of her insecurities is worse; the bitter anger that people might see a mangle-faced freak with a victim for a partner, or the painful dread that they might see her as a pitiful charity case with a saint of a wife. If they even see Anetra that way; Sasha swears that every time they’ve been out since they came back from Poland, people have assumed Anetra was her aide instead of the love of her life.

“We’re here,” Anetra gives Sasha’s hand one more squeeze as they come to a stop, Busby guiding Sasha right to the door of the music room and pointing his nose to indicate the location of the doorknob. Not that he needs to; before Sasha can reach out for it, Anetra has swooped in ahead of her, throwing open the door and stepping aside with a theatrical ‘ milady.’

“You’re such a dork,” Sasha snorts, giggling a bit despite herself as she steps inside. It’s strange; maybe it’s because she can’t really see, but as she’s walking deeper into the room, nothing plays in her mind and there’s no anxiety in her chest. She knows there’s a piano, yes, but somehow, for a split second, she convinces herself that the room is empty, just a regular room with nothing special or scary in it.

That is until Busby guides her to the piano bench, allowing her knees to graze its edges, and her heart drops into her stomach.

Breathe, Sash. Breathe . She closes her eyes and inhales shakily, imagining the things that make her feel calm just like her psychologist taught her. Listening to her favourite songs. Red velvet cake. Her family back in Hawai’i. The soft feeling of plumeria petals against her fingertips and sun-warmed sand between her toes. Her and Anetra’s honeymoon in Tahiti, making love under a deep orange sunset.

“I’m coming beside you,” Anetra warns, careful not to disrupt Sasha’s fragile attempt at inner peace, for which Sasha is incredibly grateful. She relaxes a little further, opening her eyes by sheer force of habit so as not to feel surprised by the sudden warm presence of her wife beside her.

“Take your time, angel,” Anetra murmurs, reaching for Sasha’s hand and giving it another squeeze. “We have the room for an hour, we can just stand here that whole time if that’s what you’re up to doing.”

“If I do, Dr. Da Luca will make me come back again next week,” she jokes, even though it’s definitely true. Though Sasha supposes that she’ll have to come back next week regardless of whether she succeeds today or not; that’s the key to exposure, Dr. Da Luca keeps reminding her--consistency and repetition.

She’s trying not to think about that right now, though.

“Would it help if we put on music?” Anetra chances, and honestly, Sasha isn’t really sure, but she nods anyway, willing to try. She’s curious, anyway, what kind of music Anetra will pick--Anetra’s a mood-listener, someone who forgoes genre or artist to pick solely based off of the vibe she feels. And considering that Sasha has absolutely no idea what to call the vibe in this room right now, if Anetra can provide some clarification, well. She’s sure Dr. Da Luca would support that.

“Remember when you taught me this song?” Sasha can hear the grin in Anetra’s voice as Go Tell Aunt Rhody starts playing off her phone, and Sasha can’t help it--she bursts into the kind of laughter she never would have thought she’d be capable of in this moment.

“Yeah, I remember,” she rolls her eyes, giving Anetra a playful shove on the shoulder, “It took you three days to get the hands-separate version even remotely acceptable. Which honestly was pretty impressive. Just, you know, for all the wrong reasons.”

“Hey! I got it in the end, didn’t I?” Anetra protests in mock offense. “Pretty damn well, too, I would say. Hands together, even!”

“And I was very proud,” Sasha giggles.

“You know, I think I still remember it, actually,” Anetra continues pensively. “Move over, let me check this out--”

Before Sasha can even think about what’s happening, Anetra is plunking her way through something that sounds more like one of Busby’s more theatrical whines than any song Sasha’s ever tried to teach her. It’s absolute chaos, and as much as Sasha knows Anetra’s doing it on purpose, she also can’t help but try to step in.

“Oh my God, stop, that’s not how you do it--”

“Mhm,” Anetra’s hands come off the piano, her voice smug as it suddenly hits Sasha that she’s not standing anymore. She’s not hovering, not bending over to correct her wife. Instead, she’s…

“Did I… Am I…?”

“You did it, baby!” Anetra squeals, practically throwing herself onto Sasha and squeezing her tightly. “I’m so proud of you.

“Oh my God,” Sasha laughs in disbelief. Her heart is pounding, and her throat feels tight, but she did it--she really, actually did it.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Anetra keeps hugging Sasha, holding onto her tightly as tears begin to gather at the corner of Sasha’s eyes again. She knows they’ll spill over if she tries to speak, so instead, she just puts her head on Anetra’s shoulder, sighing contentedly as Anetra brings a hand up to stroke her hair.

“Neech?” she finally says after a few minutes, when the beating of her heart has fully calmed and her throat feels relaxed again.

“Yes, angel?”

“Can you play it again?” Sasha buries her face deeper into Anetra’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her perfume.

“Oh, you want a little bit more of this?” Anetra’s voice is dripping with mischief as she begins to bang on the keys again.

“Fuck off,” Sasha laughs. “No, for real this time. Just… play it again.”

So Anetra does, and it sounds absolutely beautiful.

#rpdr fanfiction #anetra #sasha colby #anetra x sasha #lesbian au #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #disabled character #writworm42 #concrit welcome #tw transphobia

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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Parenthood (Anetra x Sasha Colby) - Writworm42

A/N: now that I Cannot be Stopped, another drabble coming at y'all!! Thanks to Holtz & Athena for encouraging me to post, even though there isn’t a lot of “pure romance” in this one. If any PECS users have feedback for me re: how I’ve written it, please let me know–I based it off of the two PECS users I worked with, but they were both at the beginning stages of learning how to use it so I don’t know if I got the picture of a more advanced user right.

The rain comes down hard on Anetra and Sasha as they run up to the therapy centre’s door, Anetra internally kicking herself for forgetting to bring an umbrella. They had been lucky enough to find a parking spot close to the centre, but it didn’t really make much of a difference–by the time Anetra throws open the front door, she and Sasha are both soaked and shivering, and Anetra can feel her makeup running a little.

She’d forgotten setting spray too, apparently.

Sighing heavily, she gives herself a little shake and kicks some of the water off her boots before trudging over to the front desk, mustering up a smile to give the office manager as she says, “Hey, Marcia. We’re here to pick up–”

The patter of little feet cuts her off, and Marcia just grins as a little brunette bullet smacks right into Anetra, attaching herself to her mother’s leg.

“Hi, baby,” Anetra smiles, reaching down to pat her daughter’s head. Her daughter reacts with a warm hum as she sways back and forth, each leg kicking up in the air in turn and practically taking Anetra with her.

“Camp wrapped a bit early today because of the rain,” Marcia explains, watching the little girl with a warm smile on her face.

“It’s too bad, huh?” Sasha sighs, coming up beside Anetra and patting their daughter’s head in turn, extending her hands for the girl to grab and swinging them back and forth to match her rocking pattern. “I know Lily was really looking forward to kickball today, it was all she’d talk about in the car over.”

Lily pipes up at the mention of her favourite sport, smiling widely.

“Kickball!” she repeats enthusiastically, bouncing a bit on her toes. “Kickball!”

“Oh, I know,” Marcia laughs. “She broke into the supply closet and found some of the balls, actually. Never seen such a chaotic game of dodgeball before, but it was pretty funny–”

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t take a ball to the boob,” Salina, the clinic’s occupational therapist and self-appointed head counsellor, snorts as she comes up behind Marcia to greet Sasha and Anetra, Lily’s iPad in hand. “She does got some pretty strong legs, though. Here you go, kiddo,” she adds as she extends Lily’s iPad out toward the little girl, “Can you take your iPad back?”

Lily grabs the device and signs a quick thank-you, grinning as she scans the ‘favourite words’ page of her PECS app.

“Play.” a little girl’s voice repeats. “I want play. I want. I want. I want–”

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, but camp’s over,” Sasha sighs. “We can play at home, though, does that sound good?”

“Yes,” Lily’s app chimes.

“Alright, baby. Can I have your iPad? We need to put it in your backpack so the rain doesn’t hurt it.”

Lily looks a little skeptical, hugging the iPad a little closer to her chest in a way that sets off a pang of sympathy in Anetra’s chest. She hates the idea of taking away her daughter’s words, even for a second. It reminds her too much of the times before the therapy team came into their lives, when she had to watch Lily struggle to be understood and she and Sasha were overwhelmed with the ways Lily was trying her best to communicate when she had no options presented to her. Who would have thought giving her something as simple as an app and a handful of signs would be such a game-changer?

“Sash, maybe we can just–”

“She already dropped it into a puddle once, Neech,” Sasha sighs. “We can’t afford another replacement.”

Anetra knows her wife is right, so she swallows her apprehension. At least the car isn’t too far–Lily will have her voice back in less than a minute if they run. Which they do.

“So sweetie, tell us more about camp today,” Sasha glances into the rearview mirror and smiles as they begin to pull out of the parking lot, “What did you all do?”

Lily lights up and grins, her fingers already poised to talk.

#rpdr fanfiction #anetra x sasha #anetra #sasha colby #s15 #marcia marcia marcia #salina estitties #lesbian au #drabble #kid fic #fluff #disabled character #writworm42 #concrit welcome

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artificialqueens · 1 year ago

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🏳️‍🌈 Journey to Joy (Robin Fierce x Aura Mayari) - Writworm42

A/N: for @petitmonde <3 thank you Athena for beta-ing!!

Seven weeks

Aura drives slowly on the way home from the obstetrician’s office, his hand resting on Robin’s knee and a smile as big as Robin’s own on his face the entire trip.

“You’re carrying precious cargo,” he had said, his excitement barely contained. “Gotta be careful from now on.”

Robin knows he probably shouldn’t enable his husband’s anxiety, but he’d also be lying if he said he doesn’t feel the same way. It’s been round after round of IVF, decrease after decrease in testosterone dosage; night after night of crying and month after month of wondering if their efforts will ever pay off.

And now finally, finally , all of their dreams are coming true.

Robin had wanted kids since he was a little boy--he just hadn’t wanted to be a mother. And all his life, he’d been told that that was the only way. That transitioning would cut his chances of fatherhood in half. That he could always adopt, said with a disappointed tone as if that was somehow a lesser path to parenthood. That maybe it would be for the best, since there’s less to explain that way. And all those people must have been right, if that was the only thing Robin ever heard.

Right?

It was only when Aura had come into Robin’s life that all those shattered dreams were finally repaired. Aura was different from anyone else Robin had ever met--instead of accepting that he and Robin wouldn’t have kids, or trying to debate Robin into wanting to adopt, he took to the internet. Robin still wasn’t sure how Aura had done it; within a few months, he’d found more information about pregnancy for trans men than Robin had managed in years. He helped Robin find a doctor who confirmed everything Aura had heard. Thank God Robin had thought to freeze some of his eggs before he went on T; by the time they got married, all their ducks were in a row, and they were fully ready to start trying for a baby.

“Hey, isn’t it too early for pregnancy tears?” Aura teases as he glances at Robin, noting the tears prickling at the corner of the man’s eyes.

“I’m just really happy, okay?” Robin laughs, wiping his eyes. “Aren’t you?”

Aura laughs in turn, grinning widely and grabbing Robin’s hand to give it a loving squeeze.

“I am, baby. I really, really am.”

Ten Weeks

They decide to tell Amethyst first. It’s a bit strange, telling Robin’s ex about the little family he and Aura are on the way to building. It could go either way, after all--Amethyst and Robin didn’t break up because of anything to do with kids, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get jealous of the idea of Robin having a future sometimes. Still, she remains one of Robin’s best friends, so he’s pretty sure this jealousy is more out of protectiveness and disappointment with her own singleness than actually wanting him back.

After all, she was the one who organized Aura’s proposal and acted as incredibly-neurotic planner for their wedding, so clearly, she doesn’t feel that much of a loss.

Nonetheless, Robin can’t help but be a bit nervous as they sit across from her in the coffee shop, Aura’s leg bouncing a mile a minute under the table and Robin struggling to find the words to get this conversation started. Just when he opens his mouth, though, Amethyst beats him to the punch.

“So, you’re pregnant,” she says plainly, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Wh--how did you--”

“You’re drinking camomile tea, I’ve never seen you drink that before, which means you’re nauseous, and you’re also avoiding caffeine at all costs. Not the Robin I know. And your shirt doesn’t look tight, but you’ve got just a bit of a lump, even though you’re still skinny everywhere else. And you’re not on max testosterone anymore, right? I can tell because your stubble is more like peach fuzz right now. Not a great look by the way, you should probably shave more carefully if you don’t want to look like an eighth grader.” Amethyst’s eyes are narrow, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in them nonetheless, and Robin can tell she’s trying hard not to smile.

“It’s still early,” Aura cuts in, “So we’re not telling a lot of people yet. But you--”

“Say no more,” Amethyst gives up on her quest to keep a straight face, her smile wide and warm as she reaches both hands across the table, grabbing both Robin and Aura’s hands at once. “Your secret is safe with me, on one condition.”

“You want to be godmother?” Robin guesses, but Amethyst just laughs.

“I was gonna say the middle name needs to be Amy, but that works fine too,” she grins.

Twenty weeks

Robin stands outside the maternity clothes store, clutching Aura’s hand for dear life. One of his doctors--there’s so many involved right now that he can’t remember which--told him he should do everything he can to keep his blood pressure down. Hard to do when he’s about to step into a landmine of dysphoria, but he tries anyway, doing breathing exercises and trying to focus on the world around him, using Aura’s voice to ground him in five things he can hear, four things he can see, three things he can feel, all that good shit.

Doesn’t mean it works that well, though.

“We should probably just rip the bandaid off,” Aura sighs, squeezing Robin’s hand as hard as Robin’s squeezing his. “Hanging around probably isn’t going to help that much.”

Up until now, Robin had managed to avoid needing to shop in the maternity section of stores. He’s been lucky that just going up sizes in the men’s section and switching to stretchier fabrics has been enough. But now that he’s about halfway through the pregnancy, he and Aura need to start seriously thinking about budget and saving for supplies when the baby gets here. Plus, he’s starting to be able to hide his bump less, which isn’t much of a problem most of the time, but sometimes the looks he gets when he doesn’t quite pass for not-pregnant make him a little too nervous.

Granted, Aura has punched more than one particularly-vocal transphobe in those instances, but he prefers that Aura stays out of jail for the foreseeable future, thank you very much.

“Just a pair of pants or two, then we’re out,” Aura reassures Robin, “Easy-peasy, no more clothes being squeezy.”

Robin rolls his eyes, but laughs nonetheless before taking one last big breath and stepping inside.

“Welcome to Everything Nice Maternity!” a woman behind the counter immediately greets them as they come through the door. “Let us know if--Sugar, what are you doing?”

Robin nearly cracks his neck with the speed of his double take when a carbon copy of the cashier pops up from the floor. He had no idea how he hadn’t noticed her before, but from the look on her face, he gets the feeling he’s probably not the first.

“New line of shoes came in,” she dangles them in front of her face, and Robin’s eye is immediately drawn to the mannequin she must have been putting shoes on--a mannequin currently wearing almost nothing else. “Oh, don’t worry, she’s not gonna stay naked--I just like to always start with what we’re trying to showcase.”

“I don’t think that’s why they’re staring, bitch.” Robin and Aura’s heads snap around to look at the cashier again, who’s watching the scene with a knowing smile and bemused twinkle in her eye.

“Oh. Right.” the woman holding the shoes laughs. “Sorry, it’s a shock to people sometimes if they don’t know us. I’m Sugar,” she extends a hand for Robin to shake, “And that’s my identical twin Spice.”

“Sugar and Spice, bringing you everything nice in maternity fashion!” the woman behind the counter chimes.

“You guys are great,” Aura grins, looking over at Robin, who returns his smile. It’s actually kind of nice--talking to these two ladies, he almost forgets where he is and why he’s dreaded being here for so long.

Almost.

“So who are we shopping for today, guys?” Sugar asks. “Wife? Girlfriend? Baby mama?”

Shit. Robin’s heartbeat picks up again, and he finds himself squeezing Aura’s hand a little harder.

This is exactly what he was hoping to avoid, and now that the question is out there, he’s completely unsure how to answer it. Should he lie? Tell the truth? Say fuck it and just bolt? He looks over at Aura for any kind of support his husband might be able to send telepathically. But Aura’s face is just as blank as his own--in other words, Robin needs to go with his gut, and he needs to go with it fast.

“Well… Actually, we’re shopping for me,” he says meekly, sucking in a breath and praying he made the right choice.

Sugar and Spice’s jaws drop in sync. For a second Robin reconsiders the bolting idea, but then the twins look at each other, and their open mouths instead lift into excited smiles.

“Congratulations, daddy!” Sugar squeals. “Sorry, I just always wanted to say that. We read about trans dads in the news last month and have been waiting for some to come to our store, we figured we might never see one--”

“Bitch, stop treating him like a zoo exhibit!” Spice scolds. “Sorry about her, it’s my turn with the brain cell today, apparently.”

“No, that’s okay,” Robin says cautiously, though he finds a grin spreading on his own face, too.

“We’re just excited, because usually we make the clothes you see here, but it’s been a while since we’ve been able to do anything new,” Sugar continues. “The same stuff always sells out and then we wind up getting into a rut, you know how it gets.”

“Boring,” Spice clarifies, “It gets boring. But now we can spice things up a bit! In a good way, we mean. You know, like dignified. We’re not completely crazy, we promise.”

Robin’s smile continues to grow, and suddenly, he doesn’t feel so nervous anymore--any reservations he has melt away, and he decides that actually, he likes this store very much.

“So what do you guys have for me? Since you guys are so spicy here,” he quips.

“Currently nothing, but we can change that!” Sugar replies, her voice taking on a bit of a sheepish edge. It’s gone almost as fast as it comes, though, because a lightbulb goes off in her eyes, and she turns to Spice with an excited gasp.

“Do you think this means we have to change our store from ‘maternity?’ Oh my God, wait, that means we can be--”

“ A literal mom and pop shop!” both twins scream in unison, and this time, all four of them laugh. It feels amazing, so relieving that Robin almost can’t remember what he’d been anxious about this whole time.

“Alright, Sugar, let’s close for a while--you two, just sit tight while I grab our design supplies,” Spice moves out from behind the counter, and Robin can’t help but note the way the young woman seems so excited that she’s actually trotting rather than walking. “Looks like Sugar and Spice are going to dip into the paternity world!”

Twenty-four weeks

Sugar and Spice wind up being an amazing resource for Robin. They don’t just design a whole wardrobe for him, a lot of which they give him for free—they also offer him rides to appointments when Aura is unavailable, and on occasions when they invite themselves over, they always bring whatever strange thing he happens to be craving.

Perhaps the best thing they do for him and Aura, though, is bring Sasha Colby into their life.

"A certified doula who specializes in advocating for and coaching trans parents-to-be, huh?" Aura eyes the card Spice had given them as they sit outside the given address, reading it over and over as if he's the one about to let yet another person up in his business. As if this appointment is still up for debate instead of happening in five minutes. As if the idea of a trans person wanting to help other trans people is something to be skeptical about.

Bullshit , Robin thinks. He loves his husband to death, but honestly?

Sometimes Aura's insistence on being as involved as possible can be… stifling, to say the least.

Still, Robin supposes this is better than the alternative, so he swallows his irritation as he gets out of the car, gesturing for Aura to follow.

"Did I do something?" Aura frowns as he bounds to catch up with Robin. Not a hard task to do; Robin's stomach is big enough now that it slows him practically to a crawl. Yet another reason he doesn't get why Aura seems to want to all but be the pregnant one himself.

"No," Robin lies as they walk up to Sasha's door and ring the bell.

Barely two seconds pass before the door swings open, and Robin almost has to check if his water broke. Sugar and Spice had told Robin and Aura that Sasha is good at what she does, but they had neglected to mention how fucking hot Sasha is.

It’s a fact that even Aura must have noticed, from the way he suddenly bristles beside Robin.

“Welcome!” Sasha smiles broadly, beckoning them inside with a sweep of her arm. “You must be Robin. And who’s with you today?”

“I’m Aura, Robin’s husband,” Aura extends a hand towards Sasha with a strained smile. Robin should probably be concerned by the way Aura seems surprised that Robin hasn’t mentioned him, but he can’t help but feel irritated instead. Once again, all of Robin’s pregnancy has to be all about Aura, he thinks.

“Well it’s nice to meet both of you,” Sasha shakes Aura’s hand, her gaze warm and unwavering as she looks between the two men in front of her. “Can I get either of you anything? Tea, water, juice? I have snacks too, if you’re hungry.”

“I would love a--”

“We’re fine,” Robin shoots Aura a look, quieting him instantly.

“Right,” Sasha replies cautiously, the warmth in her eyes faltering for a moment before she recovers and smiles again. “Well, come on into my office, then. We can get started on the intake, that sound good?”

Aura starts to follow Robin into Sasha's office, but for some reason manages to think the better of it, leaving Robin alone.

Twenty-five weeks

"Boundaries are important, but setting them in a healthy way is the only way to make them stick."

Robin sits in Sasha's office and listens to her intently, his leg bouncing a mile a minute. Aura was at work, and didn't even know Robin was at another appointment--Robin had planned it that way.

“Have you actually spoken to Aura about needing space?” Sasha asks, though her facial expression tells Robin she already knows the answer.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Robin shrugs. “Anyway, it’s not that I want space, it’s more that he treats me like glass. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not a kid just because we’re having one. I can do things on my own, too.”

“Sounds a little emasculating,” Sasha suggests.

“It is!” Robin sighs, leaning back in his seat. He hadn’t wanted to say it, but it was true—being treated like he can’t stand on his own two feet makes him feel weak. And yeah, it’s okay for a man to feel weak, Robin knows that—but it doesn’t make it any easier. Especially when almost every resource Aura throws at Robin, every class he wants them to take together or article he wants Robin to read, is marketed towards women.

He just doesn’t have the time, energy, or a clear enough head to unpack all of that right now.

“I have to wonder though, even if you haven’t told Aura, what aspects of your pregnancy have you shown him?”

Robin looks up at Sasha and frowns. Shouldn’t it be obvious, especially to someone as experienced as Sasha? He and Aura are married, after all—even if Robin wanted to hide anything about the pregnancy from his husband, he wouldn’t be able to.

“I can see you don’t really get what I mean,” Sasha shakes her head. “What I’m trying to say is, has Aura’s role been to support you through pregnancy, or has it been to participate in welcoming and preparing for your baby? What have you guys done to bond over being expecting? Or have you guys been focusing less on the baby aspect, more on the difficulties of waiting for it to come?”

Oh.

“If you’re not ready to tell Aura that he’s making you feel stifled, maybe show him he doesn’t have to worry about you,” Sasha suggests. “And I think that might benefit you too—take the focus away from being pregnant, and shift it towards being a dad. That’s the end goal, right?”

“Right,” Robin echoes. Looking back up at Sasha, he smiles gratefully, a weight instantly lifting from his shoulders.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a Godsend?” he pulls himself up from Sasha’s couch and gathers his things, his smile only widening when Sasha laughs.

“Once or twice,” she winks.

“Well, make it three times, then,” Robin notes, “Because I really do think you might have just changed my life.”

Thirty weeks

Robin is getting a little too big to really contribute anything to the decoration of their nursery, but that’s what friends are for, he supposes. They decide to make a day of it—with snacks and toolboxes in hand, their friends and family file in at 10 in the morning, the last of them leaving again at 10 PM. It’s nice, actually; laughing and talking with everyone, every chore goes by a bit faster, and before they know it, the nursery is almost done—all it needs is some toys and supplies.

Darling❤️: hey baby can we go to Amethysts today

Darling❤️: i told her i’d let her borrow a book, i have it with me so i want to drop it off

Weird. Robin didn’t know Aura and Amethyst talked without him around. And why wouldn’t Aura just take the book by himself on the way home from work? He can always just text Aura the address.

Unless…

Robin: you trying to throw me a surprise baby shower?

There’s a few minutes that go by without any answer, and Robin is almost afraid he’s gotten it wrong. But then a call comes through, and Amethyst’s voice sounds over Robin’s speaker.

“You’re an asshole,” she says immediately, though her voice has no edge to it.

“An ass--Really? And why is that, because two couldn’t have come up with a better cover?” Robin snorts. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Just get here by six,” Robin can practically hear Amethyst’s eye-roll, and he can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, but there better be some fried pickles for me!”

Thirty-four weeks

Robin hasn’t been in his home office in almost two weeks at this point, but who could blame him? His back constantly hurts, his feet are always pounding, and he can’t sit in one place for too long without sciatic pain. It’s much easier to spread out on the couch while working these days, especially after Sasha gets Robin a lap-desk to minimize contact between the laptop and his belly.

“Just one more week,” he sighs to himself as he closes his laptop for the day, stretching slightly. His brain feels thoroughly fried, and he’d love nothing more right now than a strawberry milkshake and a very long nap. But there’s so much to do before he goes on leave, and so little time--he owes it to all his coworkers and clients to make sure there are no loose ends left untied. He just wishes it wasn’t so damn tedious.

As if to rescue him from his ennui, the sharp sound of a car horn goes off in the driveway. It blasts again, then again, until Robin realizes that it’s going in the tune of shave and a haircut.

“Canned bits,” he sings to himself, heaving himself up from the couch.

Sugar and Spice are standing outside of their car waiting for Robin when he finally makes it out to the driveway, back aching with each step. As if to protest the exercise, the baby kicks Robin hard, and he puts his hand over his stomach, grimacing and nodding.

“I know, I know,” he mutters to the baby, who only kicks again.

“You ready to go check out some free real estate?” Sugar grins as Robin comes up to the car, smiling gratefully when Spice opens the door for him and extends a hand to help him in.

“I wish it were free,” Robin snorts as he slides into the backseat next to Aura. “You know the copay is like a hundred and forty bucks?”

“It’ll be worth it,” Sasha reassures Robin from the other side of Aura. “You’ll appreciate the extra privacy, and if you’re planning on having a lot of people at the birth, a suite is a lot roomier than a semi-private.”

“I’m just shocked your insurance didn’t cover it,” Aura huffs. “You’ve been with the company for years, and it’s like, okay, just because the hospital decides to be bougie and call it a suite instead of a private room, all of a sudden the claim is denied? Bullshit.”

The baby kicks again, this time forcefully, and Robin can’t help but laugh as he puts a hand over his stomach.

“Even the little one agrees,” he jokes, smiling when Aura puts a hand over Robin’s stomach, his palm landing exactly where Robin can feel their baby settling to rest.

Thirty-seven weeks

Sasha was right about the so-called suites being worth it. Thanks to his surprise admission a week too early, there were no suites or semi-privates left for Robin to room in. Meaning he was essentially a zoo exhibit for every judgmental asshole, every overly-excited nursing student, or any bored patient to gawk at twenty-four seven. Even with the curtain drawn, rumours seemed to swirl around the unit far too fast, and it wasn’t long before news of the pregnant man reached Robin’s own ears.

Stupid fucking preeclampsia.

It was kind of funny when he made his voice super deep to tell the woman who tried to talk to him through the curtain that no, he hadn’t heard of that, though.

He wishes for nothing more than to be able to be on bedrest at home, but that’s a pipe dream--after many fights with Aura that made his blood pressure even worse, Robin had relented and given in to his obstetrician’s advice about checking in to the hospital early. He had already known he was technically high-risk, after all--he just hated the way that made everything so medical. Every day is a flurry of questions and tests, and every day is a new symptom--headaches so bad his vision blurs, rib pain worse than the feeling of binding too long. Constantly needing to wear a bib because he never knew when he wouldn’t be able to grab a bedpan before an inhuman amount of vomit forced itself out of his body.

But the worst part by far is the gossip he can hear from his care team and roommates.

“Hold on, I’m going to give those ladies a piece of my mind.”

Aura’s mom stands up from her place at Robin’s bedside and throws the curtain open, marching over to where a couple of nurses had been whispering in Tagalog. Robin didn’t know what they had been saying, but based on Aura’s mother’s tone and the way Aura flinches when he hears her begin to rant at them, he could guess it wasn’t very nice.

“All good now,” she comes back into his area with a smug smile on her face.

“What did you--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aura says grimly, though Robin can tell he’s trying his best not to laugh.

“Well, at least they had the decency to switch languages--”

Robin’s silver lining is snatched from him as another wave of nausea hits, and Aura’s mother barely has time to thrust a bedpan in his face before bile projects from his throat.

“My baby doing okay?”

Robin looks up from his bedpan to see his mother standing in the threshold of his makeshift room, her brow crinkled in a worried frown.

“I’m fine, mom, I’m just--”

He’s cut off by another heave, the acidic taste of vomit stinging his tongue and bringing tears to his eyes.

“No, no you’re not, baby,” his mother frets. “Aura, where’s that call bell? You haven’t rung it yet? Come on, let’s get the nurse, he needs some gravol--”

“I’m fine ,” Robin hisses.

The woman in the next bed cackles.

“He’s a big boy!” she mocks, “Big enough to get knocked up, he wants to be a real man he can take it!”

“Oh, this bitch is trying to get punched --” Aura mutters, but Robin just puts out a hand.

“Stop,” he coughs. “Stop it right now. I’m fine .”

“Rob--”

Robin doesn’t respond, only lays down and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out like Sasha taught him, visualizes a beach and the sand between his toes. Tunes out the beep of his heart monitor and purses his lips.

This has been an absolute disaster, a terrible time. God, he just wants to go home…

He opens his eyes when a warm hand grabs his own. Aura smiles down at him, his gaze as affectionate as it is sympathetic.

“I’m here for you, baby,” he whispers, “We’re gonna get through this. I love you.”

The heart monitor’s beeps even out, and Robin can finally breathe again.

Thirty-nine weeks

The rest of the week goes by in a flurry; the noise about the pregnant man on the unit dies down, and people stop caring as much. Robin gets more used to his symptoms, and the cocktail of meds the doctors prescribe finally gets him on a more stable path. A private room becomes available, and Robin’s stay starts to become a little easier to bear. And then, a few days after he passes the thirty-eight week bench mark, he’s finally declared stable enough to go home.

It’s honestly a relief--he had barely been eating the hospital food anyway, and watching TV at home is much nicer than being restricted to two channels that are somehow always showing Maury marathons. And of course, nothing beats being able to go to sleep with Aura next to him again, his husband’s snores leading Robin into easy rest each night.

It’s during one such rest that Robin is woken up by a sharp cramping in his stomach and the feeling of fluid running down his legs.

Shit.

Robin glances over at the clock on his bedside table, frowning when it blinks 3 AM back to him. His whole support system is probably asleep right now—he can wake Aura, but what about their moms? What about their friends? What about Sasha?

No, he can hold it. He has to hold it. He can make it; his contractions aren’t even that close right now. Just for a few more hours—he’ll wait until a respectable 5 AM, then start shouting about his labour from the rooftops.

Unfortunately, another cramp hits him hard, making it clear the baby has other plans.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Robin’s head snaps around to see a half-asleep Aura frowning as he pushes himself up in bed.

“Nothing, it’s fine, it’s— ohhhh…”

Robin doesn’t bother fighting Aura any more, only leans on him as they rush together to the car.

Labour

Robin’s and Aura’s mothers are at the hospital within the hour of Aura’s call, and Sasha isn’t far behind. Robin doesn’t have arms to hold every hand extended towards him, but he sure as Hell tries--he could use any squeeze, any encouragement, any comfort he could get.

Twenty hours later, little Riley Amethyst Mayari-Fierce is laid against Robin’s chest, sleeping soundly as Aura lays a gentle hand over his new daughter’s back.

“She’s perfect,” Aura’s voice is soft with wonder, his eyes shining as Riley stirs.

“Yeah,” Robin leans down to kiss his daughter’s head, her soft, wispy hair tickling his nose. “She really is.”

Pride Challenge Points: 2848

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