#from-nursery-to-misery

[dialoogid]

Various Artists - Interpretation Series Volume Two: E O O E (1992)

[kxsagi]

we want more lil nagi! the crowd demands

“𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮 𝐯𝐬. 𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞”

a/n: whenever someone brings up lil nagi aka seishu, i will write for him no hesitation

(art credits go to dahlimasu on twt)

you should’ve known something was up when nagi walked into the living room in dead silence with seishu sitting perfectly upright in his arms – face blank, mouth slightly open, a single puff of baby hair sticking straight up like he got electrocuted. 

“… he’s not blinking,” you say slowly, halfway through folding a onesie. 

“yeah.” nagi shifts seishu a little. “i think he’s buffering.” 

you blink. “what happened?” 

“nap time.” 

“you tried nap time?” 

“yeah.” nagi yawns. “he won. i lost. i accept my defeat.” 

and then he flops onto the couch next to you, still holding the baby like a football. seishu immediately lights up at the sight of you, cheeks squishing as he beams and says, “ma, ma, ma!” 

“awww, baby!” you coo, leaning in to squish his face. “did daddy fail again?” 

nagi groans into a pillow. “he bit me. again.” 

“well, you did try to put him down when he wasn’t tired.” 

“he was tired. he rubbed his eyes and everything.” 

“rubbing his eyes doesn’t count,” you laugh. “that’s his trick move. fake eye rub, then BAM, headbutt.” 

“he did headbutt me.” 

seishu cackles at your shared misery and burrows into nagi’s chest, full goblin mode unlocked now that nap time is off the table. he begins slapping nagi’s face with a gummy hand. 

“seishu,” nagi mumbles, holding him at arm’s length. “you have your mother’s strength.” 

“that’s cute, coming from the man who got owned by a baby.” 

“he fights dirty,” nagi defends himself. “he faked sleep. had his eyes closed and everything. i was so sure i won, but then he opened one eye and smiled at me. like this.” nagi attempts to imitate seishu’s mischievous squint. it’s weirdly accurate. 

you’re dying laughing. “you got baby baited.” 

“i’ve never been more disrespected in my life,” nagi mumbles. “and i played against kaiser once.” 

later, you watch your husband go for round two. 

he’s lying on the nursery floor like a fallen soldier, eyes glazed, one hand weakly pushing seishu’s toy truck back and forth while seishu climbs him like a jungle gym. 

“buddy,” you call gently from the door. “he doesn’t look like he’s having fun.” 

“i’m stalling,” nagi whispers dramatically. “he’ll get tired soon. i’ll make sure of it.” 

“you know we could switch. i could take a shift.” 

“no. i will win this. i am the adult.” 

cut to: five minutes later. 

you find both of them passed out in the crib. nagi’s folded in like a pretzel, one leg hanging over the side, while baby seishu lies on his chest like he’s king of the world. 

you can’t even be mad. it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. you snap a photo immediately. 

and when nagi wakes up twenty minutes later, rubbing his eyes and blinking blearily like a confused cat, the first thing he asks is: “… did i win?” 

you kiss his forehead. “yeah, baby. you did.” 

bonus: the group chat 

you: [photo of nagi folded into the crib like a croissant with seishu on top] 

reo: bro looks dead 

bachira: OMG they’re twins 

isagi: he’s gonna have back pain for weeks 

nagi: worth it 

nagi: he finally slept 

nagi: i am victorious 

you: he bit you twice 

nagi: worth it 

bonus #2: baby seishu’s revenge 

the next day, nagi tries to get him to nap again. 

“alright, little guy,” he says, gently rocking seishu while humming a lullaby that is suspiciously close to a video game soundtrack. 

seishu yawns. his eyes flutter. he goes limp. 

nagi does the transfer. smooth. flawless. olympic gold in the baby handoff event. he tiptoes backward, heart racing. 

and just as he touches the doorknob– 

“BAHHH!!!” 

seishu’s eyes snap open like a demon’s. 

nagi freezes. “oh no.” 

“BAHHHHHHH!!!!” 

it’s a war cry. the crib is shaking. 

you rush in and see nagi already on the floor, hands in his hair. 

“he used a sleep jutsu on me,” nagi mutters. “i got genjutsu’d by a one-year-old.” 

you pick up baby seishu, who is absolutely losing his mind laughing. 

“that’s it,” nagi says, dramatically lying down again. “my son is my greatest rival.” 

you give him a smooch on the cheek. 

“don’t worry. i’ll avenge you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[thebearer]

in your eyes, the man that i could be |carmen berzatto x reader| part two

prompt: after carmen finds out you're staying at pete and sugar's house, he goes to try and talk to you. he's faced with his furious sister and harsh truths instead.

or part two of the devastation fic lol that is based off this ask from the other day <3

contains: angst! angst! this one is very much so more carmen focused bc let's be real... he's the problem in this one lol. still hurt with no comfort but more this one than last one?? mentions to past trauma, family trauma. sugar clears carmen in this one. slight mean carmen still, slight angry carmen still. language. dad!carmen x mom!reader. no resolution but the make up is in the next and final part! still heavy so read at your own discretion! word count- 4.8k+

Fak twisted his hands, nervously watching Carmen pace back and forth furiously. One hand running through his hair, tangled and matted from the continued motion; the other lifting and pulling the cigarette to and from his lips. Fak wasn’t sure how Carmen wasn’t sick yet. He’d never seen him smoke so much, seen anyone smoke so much. 

“Neil, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ anymore, ok? You’re startin’ to really, really fuckin’ piss me off.” Carmen’s jaw ground tight, voice starting to growl with that gravelly warning shake that had Fak flinching. “You better tell me where you put my fuckin’ car keys, alright? I-I’m not sitting here, ok? I’m not gonna sit around wi-with my fuckin’ thumb up my ass like a jagoff while my wife and kid are a-at fuckin’ Sugar and Pete’s!” 

“Carmy,” Fak tried to keep his voice calm and firm, like Sugar and Richie had coached him to, hyping him up before he entered the house. “I can’t give you your keys right now, becaus-” 

“-Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Carmen roared, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. 

Fak didn’t think he’d ever say it, but he missed the sad Carmen from before. When he’d been sent to check on Carmen and Richie, to find out where the hell they were before Sydney had a meltdown in the kitchen, only to find a nearly hyperventilating Carmen and an unsure and frantic Richie trying to calm him. Fak had known Carmen a long time, his whole life, really, and never once had he seen him so�� so sad. 

That sadness was long gone now. In its wake, an anger, worse than before, than he’d ever seen or could have imagined. Fak had just tried to comfort Carmen, offer up some encouragement that you and Teddy and Anchovy were all ok, taken care of- at Pete and Sugar’s. He didn’t realize how that would flip the switch, how it would infuriate Carmen. 

“I-I’m Fak.” Fak blinked, nervously. “You know me. I’m your friend, Carm, and I-I’m just trying to help you-” 

“-You’re trying to help me? You’re trying to fuckin’ help me by keepin’ me away from my wife?” Carmen’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of the house. 

Even in his loud rage, the house seemed too quiet, too still. There was no baby TV show on, no hum of the diffusers, or Anchovy’s small purrs and chirps. Carmen missed him, missed him jumping on the counters just to piss him off. He missed you defending him, missed how Anchovy would startle and run anytime Teddy would gurgle or whine. 

God, he missed Teddy. He spent the first night in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, staring blankly ahead, wishing he had the small screaming bundle to rock to sleep. 

Carmen couldn’t bring himself to go into the bedroom. Not again. Not after he found your ring laying there. He’d scared Richie so badly with his cries that Richie had enforced the ‘Mikey Prevention Plan’, his twisted humor of a way at keeping Carmen from being alone, from hurting himself in his misery. 

“Carm, I-I can’t.” Fak stuttered, looking at the door, begging Richie or anyone, really, to walk through the door. “You know I can’t.” 

“This is fucked up, Neil. You know that? You know how fucked up this is? Keepin’ me from-from Teddy? From my kid?” Carmen took a long drag of the cigarette, smoke blowing out of his nose with his panicked breathing. His hands still shook, everything was still shaky and rattling with uneasiness inside him. 

“Carm, I- Don’t say that.” Fak shook his head, he could feel himself caving. Carmen could too. 

“You’re keepin’ me from her, Fak. You know that? You know you-you’re keepin’ me from my daughter? My baby? Don’t you-you know how fucked up that is?” Carmen shook his head, lips pursing in disgust. “You’re lettin’ Richie boss you around like he always does, an-and you know, you know deep down that this is wrong. Keepin’ me from them is wrong.” 

Fak hesitated, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Richie said-” 

“-Richie can get fucked. Ric-Richie doesn’t know shit! He doesn’t know shit, you know he doesn’t know shit, a-and you’re lettin’ him tell you what to do? Richie?” Carmen scoffed, throwing his hands out. “The fuck does Richie know, huh? H-He’s divorced, an-an-and barely sees his kid-” 

“-Hey!-” Fak’s eyes widened in shock. “Carmen, you don’t-” 

“-Is that what you want? You want me to end up alone?” Carmen’s eyes are wild, crazed, but he goes still. “Y-You want me to end up like-like Richie? Li-Li-Like that?” 

Fak swallows, both standing in the thick, tension filled silence. “Carmen, I-I can’t.” Fak shook his head slowly. “I don’t… I think you need to, I don’t know, I think you need to calm down before you go see them.” 

“Calm down, you’re tellin’ me to calm down.” Carmen snarled, bitterly scoffing at Fak. “Fuck you. Alright? Fuck you. I will never forgive you for this shit. You hear me? You-You doin’ this to me, keepin’ me from my family. I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you.” 

Fak flinched, Carmen’s words cutting brutally through him with a bitter sting. Carmen stormed off, the front door slamming with a force that sent vibrations through the house. Fak was surprised it didn’t split the wood in two. Walking towards the front window, he saw Carmen storming off, furiously lighting another cigarette, running a hand through his hair, again. Fak assumed he was out of Spirits, that he’d smoked through another pack, walking to the corner store to get more. After thirty minutes, he called Richie, frantic that he’d let Carmen loose. 

“What part of Mikey Prevention Plan don’t you fuckin’ understand?” Richie sneered over the phone, trying to keep his voice low so the new hires didn’t hear. As far as they were concerned, Carmen was on a vacation, only the OGs knew the truth. 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Fak’s voice lilted high, a shrill of nerves that had Richie’s eyes pinching in annoyance. “I thought he was going to the corner store to get more cigarettes, an-and then he didn’t come back for a while-” 

“-What’s a while?” Richie muttered, catching Tina’s eye through the glass. She set her rag down quickly, walking towards him. 

“I dunno… Fifteen, thirty minutes?” Fak mumbled. “Maybe closer to an hour now. B-But then I went to look for him, and he wasn’t there, so I asked the guy working and he said he hadn’t seen him, and-and now I’m driving around trying to find him. I-I’m shouting his name out the window and everything!” 

“He’s not a dog, Neil, he won’t-” Richie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know where he’s at.” 

“You do?” Fak perked up. 

“Yeah, I mean, no, but I-I’m pretty sure I know where he’s at since you fuckin’ told him where they were stayin’.” Richie rolled his eyes bitterly. “Just- Come over here and get me, alright? Let me call Pete- God, you and this fuckin’ kid, got me callin’ Pete. You’re killin’ me Neil Jeff.” 

Richie hung up the phone with a huff, looking up at Tina. “What’s goin’ on? Jeff alright? What’s he doin’?” She pressed. 

“Yeah, Fak-Fak fuckin’ lost him.” Richie rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “But, I think I know where he’s at. Have a pretty good idea, anyways.” 

Tina eyed Richie carefully. “Richie, you know I love that kid, you know I do. But if he’s fuckin’ with Mama,” Tina shook her head, lips pursing in fury. It was no secret how taken she was to you, even before the affectionate nickname that came with the pregnancy. 

“He’s not,” Richie shook his head. “He’s stupid, hot headed, a fuckin’ baby- all that. But… C’mon, T, you and I both know he loves her. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Do somethin’ to himself before that.” 

Tina paused but nodded, face softening. “So, you know where he’s at then? You don’t… You don’t think he’s gonna…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, looking at the picture of Mikey with Richie, Tina, Ebra, and Marcus only a few months before he passed. Carmen had placed it at the front, a reminder of the legacy that was there before him, of The Beef and his brother. 

“No, I hope not.” Richie muttered, looking at his phone’s screen with dread, Pete’s contact on the screen gleaming back at him nearly mockingly. “I think I know where he is.” He sighed, pressing the button. 

Pete could feel his phone buzzing in his pants, ignoring it as he held the front door in a white knuckled grip. He hadn’t expected to see Carmen there, on his Ring camera, knocking on the door softly, softer than he expected given his manic looking state. 

“H-Hey, Carm,” Pete closed the door as casually as he could, only leaving a sliver open. “What, uh, what’s up, man?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Carmen could barely meet his gaze, suddenly overly aware of how disheveled he must have looked. 

“Uh, what-what brings you by?” Pete stuttered, heart picking up when he heard the soft thump behind him, Anchovy lurking behind his legs curiously. He gripped the door, shuffling his legs together, trying to close it on his frame so Anchovy wouldn’t slip by. 

“C’mon,” Carmen sighed, a tired look in his eye, too exhausted to even be pleading. “You know why I’m here, alright. I-I know they’re here.” 

“W-Who is? Sugar? Yeah, she-she’s off today.” Pete stiffened at the claim, swallowing nervously, trying to play it cool. Anchovy meowed loudly behind him, cringing when he was  given away by the cat. 

“Pete, don’t-” Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in slowly, trying to calm the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear Anchovy, hear the sounds of the house- the home. Soft child shows, the hum of the dryer, all the things that made the house feel alive. Carmen would give anything to have his home sound like that again, the silence was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Where is she?” Carmen looks up, his gaze much harder than before, a frantic look beginning to take over his sadness. 

“I, uh, I-I don’t-” Pete stutters, fingers tapping on the wood of the door anxiously. 

“-Pete, I really don’t want you to fuck with me right now, alright?” Carmen takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his emotions that were already beginning to climb in his throat again. “I need to- I-I need to see her, Pete.” Carmen couldn’t bring himself to say your name, sure even the first syllable would have him in tears, breaking down on the front porch. 

Another meow, louder than before, came before Pete could answer. The soft scratching of Anchovy’s paws on the door, a demanding meow that Carmen knew all too well. He’d learned to drown it out, or try to. It became nearly a soundtrack to your sex life when you’d first gotten the cat, locking him out of the room so you two could fuck, only for him to yowl and scratch and demand to be let in. Carmen could remember how you’d giggle, pouting at him exaggeratedly to let him in. His heart fell with an ache that was warm yet still made him feel sick. 

Pete looked down at the cat, then back at Carmen, a hesitant grimace on his face. “Carm… You-You know I would,” He started. Carmen’s heart soared with hope, eyes wide, a near adrenaline rush of excitement shooting through his system. “But…You know I can’t.” 

Carmen’s heart crashed, shattered with the hope he’d finally begun to find, to feel again. “What the fuc- Pete, that’s… Pete, c’mon. C’mon. Yo-You gotta let me in. Let me in.” Anger surged through Carmen’s chest. He closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow it down. All he’d been is angry. For weeks now, it had been a never ending cycle of anger and sickness and distraught, all amplified to new heights the second you left. 

Carmen could feel himself spiraling, ears starting to ring again, rushing and roaring flashbacks flooding into his mind. Your face when you left, Teddy’s cries, the critic’s pursed lips, Sydney’s disappointed face when he forgot something again, Tina’s eyes cutting. Carmen turned, shaking his hand lightly, trying to do a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube, years ago when he’d moved to New York. 

His breaths were deep, shaky, but deep enough that it cleared his head, dulled the ringing. His mind wandered back, Richie’s voice ringing in his head. “You wanna get her back? Quit actin’ like a goddam baby. Quit actin’ like this isn’t your own fuckin’ fault. Like you didn’t do this shit to yourself, Cousin. Take some fuckin’ accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin’ shit together, alright? And maybe-maybe you’ll get your family back.” Richie’s voice rang clear through his mind from a few nights ago, when Carmen was especially mean and awful. 

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Pete hesitated, leaning towards Carmen, his grip on the door loosening. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he turned back towards Pete, eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. “Pete, please? Please?” Carmen begged, voice soft, cracking at the end. “Please, jus-just let me see her? L-Let me talk to her? Just- Let me tell her tha-that I’m sorry. Please… I need to tell her I-I’m sorry. Don’t-” 

“-Carmen?” Sugar gaped, her voice coming from behind Pete. She pulled the door open, shocked gaze dropping into furious, jaw setting in a near snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed. 

“Why do you think I’m here, Natalie? Huh?” Carmen snapped in anger, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Natalie snapped back, pulling the door open and stepping out on the porch. She stood in front of her younger brother, arms crossed in a standoff. 

“Pete, go inside.” Sugar sneered, her gaze not moving from Carmen’s. She felt like they were children again, having a staring contest to see who got the last piece of gum from Donna’s purse, only this time, it was for worse. 

“Nat, I-” 

“-I got it.” Natalie said firmly. Pete didn’t argue with her, simply nodding, shutting the door softly behind them. Her eyes held Carmen’s gaze, both of them intense, furious at the other for other reasons. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself-” 

“-I am-” 

“-Mortified.” Sugar sneered, giving him a disgusted shake of her head. Carmen shifted, biting his own tongue to keep it from lashing out at her. “Do you know what I came home to the other night? You want me to tell you?-” 

“-No, I know-” 

“-No, I’m going to tell you.” Natalie snapped. “I came home after a very long shift because our head chef decided to, oh, I don’t know- disappear and go on a psychotic rampage apparently.” Natalie scoffed sarcastically. 

“And I walk through the door, ready for bed. Maybe a glass of wine, maybe a bath, maybe to finally catch up on my shows with my husband; and you know what I found instead?” Sugar took a step towards Carmen, intimidating him with her harsh glare. “I find my husband taking care of your baby because your wife is sobbing-” 

“-Don’t-” 

“-No, no. I mean, sobbing. A total broken mess on my kitchen table, because she said you,” Sugar jabbed a finger at Carmen. “Decided to come home and scream at her. Not only scream, but say some of the most volatile, disgusting things I’ve ever fucking heard in my life to your wife, the mother of your very much so still a newborn baby.” 

Carmen felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, swallowing back spit that pooled in his mouth with a cry that threatened to fall from his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to look at her gaze anymore. It felt too judgemental, left him feeling too vulnerable and sick of himself under it. 

“So let me ask first; What the fuck is the matter with you?” Natalie sneered. 

“I don’t know.” Carmen’s voice was tight, jaw tighter, fighting a tremble that was threatening to break. “I-I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it-” A single tear fell, slipping out of the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheek- the final crack in his demeanor. 

Carmen tried to fight it, deep breaths that burned his lungs and nose to control the tears, keep him from breaking here on his sister’s porch, but they wouldn’t stop. Carmen wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, after crying for days on end, how he hadn’t shriveled up his tear ducts. Yet here he was, broken sobs slipping out again. 

Sugar didn’t move. Arms still crossed over her chest, lips still fixed in a hard line, watching Carmen with intensity as he broke down, tears flowing in front of her. She didn’t comfort him, not that he expected her to. She didn’t try to give him words of encouragement, advice on how to right the wrongs like the others did. Instead, she kept a furious gaze on him, unmoved by the tears. 

“Please,” Carmen sniffed hard, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Please, Sugar, please. Ju-Just let me see Teddy. Let me se-ee her. Don’t-Don’t do this to me. Don’t ke-ep my kid away from me-” 

“-Me?” Sugar scoffed, pushing her hand into her chest. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t you even start that shit, Carm. I’m not keeping your kid away from you, let’s make that clear.” 

Carmen’s breath hitched when she stepped towards him, toe to toe with him, teeth bared in a grit of anger. “I didn’t take your kid away. You know who did? Hm? You.” Natalie snapped, Carmen flinched at the cruelty of her words. “You did this, Carmen. You did every last bit of this. This is on you. No one else but you.” 

Carmen held in a cry that threatened to break out, face crumbling with tears. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to soothe the burn and hide his distraught. “And you know something else? I know you don’t remember dad very well, but I do, ok? And lately, you’ve been acting just like him.” Sugar’s tone clipped, leaving a burning sting in Carmen’s chest at her words. 

“Yelling just because shit didn’t go your way? Do you know part of the reason mom’s so fucked up? Why everyone takes her side all the time and babies her? Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee? It’s because dad used to berate her, scream at her so badly- say some of the worst shit in the world because he was stressed out, that those guys would feel bad for her.” Sugar ranted. “And I promise you- promise you if I told Uncle Jimmy right now what you said, how I found your wife, he’d agree with me. Maybe even worse.” 

Carmen shifted, his heart squeezing in fear now. Jimmy loved you, always had. He held a special soft spot in his heart for you. Worse was probably right, and truthfully, Carmen would accept it- he deserved it. It wouldn’t be as bad as how he felt right now. 

Natalie held Carmen’s gaze, letting her words sink in. She lifted his hand when he started to talk. “I don’t-I really don’t want to hear it, ok?” Natalie shook her head. “And before you start trying to come up with some excuse-” 

“-I-I’m not-” 

“- I want you to know something. To hear it and really listen to it.” Natalie paused, waiting until his eyes met hers to continue. “I know you’ve been through a lot- We’ve been through a lot. But that doesn’t mean you get to just treat people like shit. That you can act like this and it’s ok.” 

“I know that.” Carmen’s jaw was tight, strangled words croaking out. 

“Then act like it.” Natalie snapped. “It’s not easy, none of this is easy, Carm. I mean… Do you know that every day- every single day, I wake up and something happens that’s shitty or rough, and I think about how easy it would be just to grab a bottle of wine or two. Drink myself unconscious like mom does. Just how easy that would be, how nice it would be just to drown myself out instead of face the issues.” 

“There’s days when MJ or Maggie or-or Pete just drive me fuckin’ nuts, and I want to pull my hair out, or scream, or Pete will do something that just pushes me right over the edge and I just want to rage.” Natalie continued, arms waving dramatically. “I want to throw in the towel, take the easy way out, rage, drink myself silly, scream at all of them until I feel better, but you know what? You know what I don’t do? I don’t do that.” 

Natalie crossed her arms, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t do that to them because I know how that feels.” Her voice cracked, just barely, enough to show the emotion that was hiding underneath. “I know how that felt. I know how that made me feel.” 

Carmen could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, too emotional to be embarrassed. Donna’s many red faced, slurred screaming tyrades came back to his mind. How he’d hide, try and stay quiet and invisible to avoid them. Even as he got older. 

“I know how that fucked me up. How it fucked them up. How it fucked you up, an-and Mikey up. I mean- how it…it fucked our whole life up!” Sugar laughed humorlessly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “I just… When I think about that, and about how it just ruined all of us. That’s the last thing, the very last thing, I’d ever want to do to my kids, to Pete, t-to anyone, really.” 

Carmen nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. His throat burned, scratchy and sore from screaming and crying. His chest was tight, constricting his lungs, stealing his breath. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, maybe something worse, yet, he felt eerily calm in the moment. Still even under the shame and hurt her words brought. He sat on the porch, sure his knees would give out soon, head spinning and dizzy with this damning realization. 

 “You need to make up your mind. Make a decision, right here, right now.” Sugar continued behind him. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was stoic to hide the hurt, hide the emotions. A classic Berzatto deflection trait. “You need to decide what you’re going to do to be better for your family. If you’re going to continue to be a selfish, piece of shit, or if you’re going to change; be better.” 

Carmen’s shoulders shuddered with his next breath, deep but not intentional; like he didn’t even know he did it. Too dazed and deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. “I can tell you,” Sugar stepped towards the door. “It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. It is so hard some days. You have to fight for it every day, fight to break shit that was drilled into you, fight to recognize that some things you do, you don’t even mean to. It takes a lot of work, but… I’d rather fight every single day to be better, to be kinder and softer and more understanding for my family, than to not have them at all.” 

Carmen couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you were so naturally nurturing and sweet. You’d always been like that. You were loving and gentle freely. You’d always been so patient with him. It almost made him feel insecure, inferior, when he thought of it before, but now, he just wanted to return the favor. 

“You decide what you want to do, and then maybe- maybe you’ll get to see them again.” Sugar turned the door knob, pushing it open. “But today? Not a chance. Go get yourself together before you try and do this again.” Carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, harder than he thought it would. Still, he didn’t move from his spot on the porch, head in his hands, deep in thought about his future, his past, everything. 

“There he is!” Fak’s voice was muffled through the car window, slowly pulling to a stop in Sugar and Pete’s driveway. 

Carmen looked up slowly, taking a slow, grounding exhale in, just as Richie and Fak climbed out of the car. “Cousin, thank fuckin’- You better be glad he’s here.” Richie glared at Fak. 

“I am!” Fak chirped defensively. 

Carmen stood slowly, turning one last time to look at the front door. He couldn’t see through the small privacy glass on the door, but he swore he could hear you- hear your voice. Soft and hushed, a little cautious mixing with Sugar’s reassuring one. It took everything in him not to turn and bust the door down, run inside and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He knew that time would come. 

Instead, he walked to the car, sliding in the backseat, ignoring the confused looks Richie and Fak gave each other. “So, uh, did you-” 

“-Don’t ask that.” Richie cut off Fak with a bark of annoyance. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing! I just- I thought we all wanted to know-” 

“-Hey, Cousin,” Carmen muttered, staring blankly at the house. Richie hummed, turning to Carmen carefully. “What’s, uh… You-You said you had someone for me to talk to?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded slowly. “The therapist?” 

Carmen paused, swallowing slowly. “You…You think she’d see me now?” 

“Right now?” Richie lifted a brow. Carmen nodded slowly, still looking past him, eyes glued on the house. He swore he could see a figure move- your figure, peeking through the blinds before ducking back into the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. I can… I can call her. See what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” Carmen twisted his wedding band gently, the car jolting gently as Fak started to back out. 

Fak turned around, looking from the back window to Carmen with a hesitant grimace. “You ok?” He asked, his voice dropped to a low hush with Richie on the phone beside him. 

“No,” Carmen admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, I-I’m not, but… I wanna be.” Carmen looked at Fak, eyes glassy with emotion. “I gotta get my shit together. Gotta do better f-for my family.” 

Fak nodded slowly, pulling out onto the road, slowly shifting the gears back into place. The car began to roll, Carmen watching Sugar and Pete’s house disappear in the rearview. His heart tore, ripped right down the middle and split at the seams knowing he was leaving you, Teddy- his family behind. It took everything, every ounce of strength not to turn around, not to run back. It hurt, but he realized, this is what Sugar was talking about. 

So, Carmen went to the other side of town, to the small building where Richie’s therapist was. His counselor he’d started seeing a while back, when he was on his purpose journey. 

It was weird, weirder than Al-Anon. Carmen felt entirely too vulnerable sitting in that chair, having her stare at him and only him, nodding as he told his ‘story’- it felt weird to call it that. He didn’t want it to be his story, his defining qualities. No, Carmen wanted a new story, a better one with you and Teddy and his family. He’d told Dr. Mullins that. 

“I think that’s a great start, Carmen.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “So, tell me how you’d do that.” 

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands. “I, uh, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “Kinda thought that’s what you were for.” 

“You’re right. I’m here to help you reach that goal, maintain it.” She nodded. “But in order to do that, I need to know a little more.” 

“Like what?” Carmen muttered. “I don’t really remember my dad and all the bad shi-stuff he’d do.” 

“You said you didn’t want that to define you, so let’s not talk about that.” She shook her head softly. “Let’s focus on what you want. What kind of life you’d want to live with your family.” 

Carmen’s knee bounced, taking a shaky breath. “I… I don’t want to lose control.” He admitted. “I don’t want t-to scream, and say shit I don’t mean, and-and to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to do that again.” 

“Good.” Dr. Mullins nodded slowly. “Let’s start there.” 

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Can you do a platonic Optimus x cybertronian reader, who is an Autobot and Megatron's sparkling? Like reader used to support their father in the beginning, but when Megatron got off the roads and became the tyrannical warlord, reader decided to leave and become an Autobot. Despite having supported Autobots from the start and having Optimus's full trust, because of reader's relation to Megatron, reader had received a lot of mistrust in the Autobot ranks. This sometimes causes reader to feel alone and down. On Earth things are a bit better, but maybe one night reader feels down and misses the old days, and Optimus is there to comfort them?

☆ "NO PLACE FOR ME IS HOME" — [TFP] Optimus Prime

oh anon, you just want to make me shed tears and IM HERE FOR IT. this is going to be so tragic.

scenario: you consider yourself Megatron's… protegé but that's all that you wish you were to Megatron but at least you have Prime comfort you

warning: angst and pain, fatherly issues

You hate it. You hate it so much when the memories of who he once was floods back into your helm— It happens every single time the two of you make optic contact, Megatron is quick to look away first. He never acknowledges you in a confrontation, ever. The warlord tsks and walks away quietly, it's uncharacteristic of him but… you'd really rather not talk to him either. Your spark aches when you think of what's become of him. You can see the bitterness in his optics when you're in his peripheral, it's not the typical rage and hate. No. It's...

Sadness.

He misses you too. Maybe. You're not so sure. He isn't like how you used to know him.

With your knees tucked to your chassis, servos holding them tight against you, you sit at the top of the base. The somber night sky somehow makes this all the more nostalgic as you think of times when things were different..

The day you first met him.

The day your life changed.

“Uh… hi!!!”

The gladiator had just been done with another match, the precipitation and energon stains fresh on his frame— He will need to get to his sad excuse of a living quarters to clean himself properly. But he stops right in his tracks as the voice catches his attention, another fan? Megatronus prepares himself. He looks around, he doesn't see anyone and his optical ridges furrow in confusion. Was he hearing things? What's happening? The voice was somewhat high pitched and squeaky. Meanwhile, his new, tiny little fan was waiting there for their idol to see them.

“..here! Down here!”

That catches his attention and his optics immediately dart down. He sees you, a little bot, azure optics so bright that Megatronus might be able to use you as a lantern. Though, he is surprised to see a sparkling here, especially during this hour at Kaon of all cities.

“What are you doing here, little one?” He asks with concern, stooping down to your level as he observes you in curiosity. Megatronus’ warm blue optics meet yours and the little you couldnt help but feel slightly intimidated.

“Uhm.. I was here to just tell you that… that I really liked your match today.”

Your words make his derma curve up into a soft smile, such genuine sincerity he found so endearing but then it struck him. What in the name of Primus was a sparkling doing watching Gladiatorial Combat? You're supposed to be at the nursery! Learning how to… judging by your alt mode, mine by some soulless teacher before being thrown into this pit of misery.

“Are you not a little too young to watch such violence, little one? Where are your caretakers?” He asks, lowering himself better to look at you optic-to-optic, his faceplates turned into a mix of curiosity, concern and care.

“More importantly, what are you doing in the mining sector?” The gladiator tilts his helm in intrigue.

His question clearly catches you off-guard and you look at him surprised. As if there was something he didn't know happening.

“Eh… you- you don't know?” You ask, not really sure how to spill it to him. Since he was rather popular, you thought he would know the new mining policy changes.

“Know what?” He raises an optical ridge in curiosity, he keeps the aggression in his tone to a minimum even if he was getting impatient, continuing to squat down to your level in order to converse with you. Clearly, the gladiator isn't used to talking to sparklings.

“Well,” You think for a moment on how to explain this, trying to recall the explanation that supervisor bot told you. “The Senate said that they're low on energon so they said that they're going to take us out of nurseries much earlier!”

You have a smile on your face as you say this and Megatronus’ azure optics widen in shock. “Tomorrow is my first day! I hope it goes well.

The blind, innocent naivety in your big blue optics and precious little smile makes his spark ache— you have no idea what's coming for you. At all. Your smile drops a bit when you see the disgust, anger and shock in his optics. How could they be so cruel? To condemn such helpless little things to the Pits before they even know what the world around them is like. This wasn't even cruel, it was evil, vile. And the worst part is, your young little processor can't seem to realize that. Megatronus is speechless as he rises up, continuing to look down at you in… sympathy? Pity? There's a sadness in his EM field.

“Is… Is everything okay?” You're craning your little help up to look at him, you need to take a step back to see his face and he has the most sympathetic look one could ever muster up for a newly-built in your situation.

“No, no. It's… it's fine.” He snaps out of his train of thought with a sharp ex-vent, looking back at your tiny little frame. And he comes to a daunting conclusion.

There's no way you'll make it in the mines.

Now, Megatronus isn't particularly a kind mech. Not really. He'll help so long as it doesn't inconvenience him in any way. But this? He wasn't a monster. He wasn't evil. He wasn't going to leave a helpless little sparkling in the middle of Kaon (of all places), Cybertron's infamous crime capital. Who knows who else you'll run into? The gladiatorial sponsors? Criminal T-Cog harvesters? Smugglers? Slavers?

“You know, little ones like you will need someone to escort you back to your living space.” Megatronus offers, looking down at you. He remembers when he was sent to the mines, albeit much older than you are now. The idea that you, someone so young will have to endure what he went through at such a fragile age hurts his spark inexplicably.

“Whats a living space?” Megatronus pauses, he looks baffled. Leaning down to face you once more.

“...you don't have a designated living space?”

“No. They just dropped us off here and left.”

He knew The Senate was vile but this— this was ridiculous even for them. The anger bubbling in him is near a boiling point upon hearing your story. One day, little ones like you will get their justice.

Megatronus would assure that.

“Fine. Would you… Like to stay with me in the meanwhile?”

The beaming on your face, the wide smile. It was far too precious to be here, in Kaon. It melts his spark in a way nothing has.

But what the two of you didn't know was that it would become permanent. Your time with Megatronus is something you constantly cherish, you look back at it with bittersweet nostalgia. The fondness of… What was that word Miko used for her masculine parent? Ah, yes. Father. Megatronus was like your own ‘father’ in every sense of the word.

You look back fondly at every single moment you had with Megatronus, no matter how you used to feel about it when those events were the present— how he comforted you after nearly getting terminated in your first cave-in, the way he used a majority of his earnings from gladiatorial combat to pay a medic to repair you, the way he would teach you about literature and poetry… and most importantly, how to defend yourself.

You remember how long you had begged him to teach you how to be a gladiator, so you too, could be a star at the face of a crowd. Just like he was. He taught you the combat part, every fighting style he knew but forbade you from ever entering the arena. You were definitely displeased about that for a long time. You were so young and reckless, he constantly spoke of how he saw himself in you but that only made you feel proud of yourself.

You'd always put Megatronus on a pedestal looking back at it. He was the one that showed you what it meant to be alive, that your life was more than your alt. mode and what the Senate dictates for you— He taught you the idea of his revolution, ingrained it into your processor. But he never let you attend any of the rallies or protests, he didn't want you to get tangled with the brutal law enforcers of Kaon.

Then, the day that ruined it all.

That day, The Senate hearing— Orion Pax, an archivist was given the honor, the title of Prime and the Matrix of Leadership with it. You'd known Orion Pax as a friend of Megatronus’, a polite and timid mech. He'd always speak to you fondly, considering Megatronus took you as his own. But that day, the Megatronus you knew was cracking. Was it envy? Pride? Ego? Arrogance? He believed it was him that was better suited, it ate up his helm and it morphed him into something you couldn't recognize.

You remember. The violence was something you were used to, being raised by a gladiator and often sneaking to see Megatronus’ fights despite his disapproval when you were but a sparkling. However, this was a different sort of violence— Senseless. At first you'd agreed. Only because he, the newly named Megatron, seemed to see violence as the only resort to uproot the current system. And you agreed, and so you served.

Your association with the Decepticons was short lived but that was enough to see his spiral, you couldn't do anything but helplessly watch the mech that taught you about the world begin to tear it down himself. It started off with targeting senators and snowballed into mercilessly killing anyone that disagreed.

“Those who are not with us are against us.” You remember him snarling out before giving the order to shoot down neutral ships after you tried your hardest to dissuade him. Senseless killing. It's what made you realize that the warm concern of Megatronus had been erased by the sweltering hate of Megatron.

And every time you look into his crimson optics, you're reminded of that.

After that whole Optimus losing his memories fiasco, it did nothing more than to serve as a bitter reminder of what all you lost, reopening old wounds painfully. You don't regret joining the Autobots, Optimus made it sure you were welcome— As kind and gentle as always, although no longer the timid Orion. At least some things stay the same.

You continue to stare out into the sky with a blank face, failing to take note of the approaching and concerned Prime. You've been coming up here a lot more often ever since Megatron came to Earth, Optimus has decided it's time to have a chat with you.

The fact that you haven't recognized his presence tells him you're deep in thought, usually the sounds of his pede-steps is enough for you to turn to look at him with a ghost of a smile. You were an… aggressive Autobot to say the least but Optimus never blames you, you were only ever surrounded by violence when growing— The important part is that you try your best to reject it from taking over you, trying to be better than all you've seen.

It isn't until you hear the shifting noises of Optimus taking a seat next to you that you realize he's here, and realize that your optics are glossy with coolant. Your optics shutter with a sharp ex-vent, a quick effort to get the excess coolant away before turning to face him. But before you could really ask him, he started to speak.

“Earth is beautiful.” He says as his optics take in the sight of the night sky. The town of Jasper is still kilometers away, the stars illuminating the sky— Another bittersweet memory of how Megatronus used to teach you about Cybertron’s stars and moons while laying down on your backs at the open airs of Lithium Flats.

“It is.” Your admission is uncharacterically soft. It makes Optimus smile slightly.

“You've been spending a lot of time up here recently, [name

].” His voice is soothing, concerned. While he sounds nothing like Megatronus, the concern from Optimus is just as warm and inviting.

“...I like star gazing.” Your tone goes quiet, optics averted from his for a moment. But it's enough for Optimus to know that there's more than meets the eye. But for now, he won't prod.

“I understand. Unfortunately I am not very familiar with the stars of this system but they look, as the humans would say ‘breath taking’.” Optimus replies as he looks back into the sky, the two of you sitting there in a somber silence— an understanding silence. You gently lean your helm against his shoulder plating with a sigh, pressing your knees further against your chassis. He says nothing but knows what to do, his servo gently pats your pauldron, providing you more support as you lean against his shoulder.

“...I miss him. Primus, I miss him.”

Your vocalizer breaks slightly, Optimus takes a deep in-vent and sighs.

“As do I, [name

]. As do I.” His tone sounds tired and he is, this war has been chipping away at their sparks and Megatron grows more deranged as the conflict prolongs. But he will not openly display his exhaustion, Optimus had to keep up a strong front.

He sees his old friend, Megatronus within you. Your personality is a spitting image— aggressive but not cruel; kind and empathetic, intolerant to the injustices faced by others and yourself. Optimus looks at you, continuing to provide you comfort, one he can tell you desperately need.

“We have tried, tried our best to bring him back. But,” The Prime speaks almost like it hurts him to say this to you, a gentle night breeze against both your frames. It's chilly, an enjoyable atmosphere if it weren't for the heaviness of the subject.

“He is far gone. Far past saving.”

You know that.

You know that very well.

“I know that but.. that,” The words are stuck in your vocalizer, unable to get them out. “...doesn't mean I like it.”

Optimus knows you're an Autobot and this is proof of it. Autobots value lives, even if it is someone as deranged as Megatron. This doesn't make you any sort of traitor to their faction, even if the others have their doubts when you speak of the young Megatronus with so much reverence or how you call out Ratchet when he gives a biased explanation of the war. But, what concerns Optimus is how you cling onto the ghost of who Megatron once was.

And he fears Megatron may stoop as low as to use it against you.

Optimus continues to understand you and provide you with his warm embrace, the gentleness of his tone never changing.

“I cannot guarantee that it will be better,” He says, almost quietly. “But I want you to remember that your Autobots are always here with you.” The mention of the others makes a small tension in your frame, he can feel the hesitance from your EM field. It makes him look at you curiously.

“They.. don't really think of me as one of them.” You admit what's been on your processor for years. You've always felt like a by-stander, someone they brought in to help. Almost as if you were hired but without any real payment. You cannot connect with them, they weren't raised like you nor do they have any fond experiences with anything associated with the name Megatron.

“Maybe.. I just don't feel like one of them.”

You say, it might be your misinterpretation. Who knows? But it's been like this since you've joined the faction. Optimus looks at you curiously, he's intrigued to understand how your processor works, to see what makes you think this way.

“To me, you are an Autobot.”

“Of course I am to you, Prime but that… isn't quite the same.” You smile a bit at Optimus’ attempt to soothe you as he just blinks.

“You’ve known me since I was about this big.” You raise your servo from your knee and lower it down to show how tall you were as a sparkling. Optimus hums, you had a point there.

Optimus always saw hope in you. You might've been working for Megatron but you were raised by Megatronus. Every single encounter, Prime always tried his best to persuade you into seeing the evil of Megatron’s ways. He knows it would take time, Megatronus was your everything— caretaker, mentor, teacher— father.

But that was Megatronus, not Megatron.

“You were able to reform, redeem yourself. You were able to see that freedom is the right of all sentient beings despite being surrounded by those who think otherwise your entire life.” Optimus says with a serious tone, as if he needs you to understand just how important what you did was— You were proof that Decepticons could be redeemed, that they were not all lost.

You gave Optimus hope.

So to see you so hopeless was unacceptable.

“Yes but that.. that doesn't change what I've done and what I… lost.” Your voice is even quieter than before, as if you're afraid to say it out loud. Remembering what you've done under Megatron, how you helped him. A complicit part of the Decepticon uprising and movement in the early days, you helped propel the movement to please your spiraling father, only to hope it would make him feel somewhat better.

Your love was what blinded you.

But that's not how Prime sees it.

He looks at you confused and curious. Blue optics fixated onto your face as he captures how you seem to sulk with gloom. Optimus doesn't understand why you would think that, you were young and under Megatron’s care— helpless to Megatron’s whims. You would've done what you did one way or another.

“But you are another victim of Megatron.”

You couldn't keep it together anymore when he says what you've been trying to deny, trying to make it seem like it wasn't for so, so very long. You let out quiet sobs as you lean against his servo even harder, your own servos clinging onto it as coolant tears trickle down your faceplates.

Optimus doesn't intervene. The Prime knows you need this, he gently pats your shoulder plating as he allows you to cling onto him like a lifeline, pouring your sorrows and coolant tears onto his plating. He will let you take your sorrows out, he won't say a word unless you need him to.

Optimus had you now. Megatronus was long gone but in his place, you now had Optimus.

Even if it wasn't the same.

bonus:

how you feel when you see Megatron and Optimus fight

[bagofshinyrocks]

The Baby is Sick

Prompt: The baby (and the two of you) somehow got a cold. Simon wants to make sure you get enough rest and decide to take care of the baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

You weren’t sure who brought a cold into your house. If it was someone besides you or Simon, you cursed them and wished them every single misery. If it was either you or your husband, you had no strong feelings. As you two were already in purgatory.

Because the baby was sick. And when baby was sick, he decided to make everyone else equally (or more so) miserable.

You and Simon were always covered in snot and saliva, as your son had not yet learn to not sneeze or cough directly in someone’s face. The baby wasn’t eating as much, which scared the shit out of you. No one was sleeping well.

“I know, little man, I know,” Simon soothed, as your son whined and flailed in his arms. “I know, it’s not fun. But it’s gonna help.” 

He was wrestling a nose aspirator into the second nostril. You didn’t blame your kid, having a tube that sucks all the snot out of your nose real fast didn’t sound real comfortable. But you know what was worse? Cleaning the snot out of the tube.

“See? You can breathe better.”

Simon bounced the boy a little, and he soon stopped crying, though still a bit grumpy with his dad. He started breathing through his nose and accepted his bottle again. You almost cried in relief.

“He’s okay, lovie,” murmured your husband, siddling up next to you and wrapping his arms around the two of you.

Your son looked up at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Simon’s brown eyes fluttered behind the boy’s lashes, and his hold on his bottle got looser. You helped him angle his bottle into his mouth and Simon rubbed his stomach.

He got through three quarters of the bottle before pushing it aside, and you considered that a victory.

“Time for bed, little bug?” you cooed, gently raising him up and walking to his nursery. Little burps and sleepy noises as you went and 

While you changed the baby and wiped his face of snot, milk, and drool, Simon refilled the humidifier and covered the windows to hide the fact the sun was still up. Any time your son seemed a little sleepy, you two would put him down for bed and then try to get as much sleep for yourselves.

With the care of disabling an explosive, Simon lowered the boy into his crib and tucked him in. You watched silently from the hallway and he tiptoed back to you and closed the door.

“Time for bed,” he whispered to you.

“It’s only 7 PM.”

“I know.” He beamed. “Aren’t I good husband? We get to go to bed early.”

Fifteen minutes later, you two were tucked into your own bed. Heads elevated with pillows, cups of water nearby, and a humidifier running quietly. The chest rub and a generous amount of petroleum gel on your lips and noses made the two of you shiny.

“Nighty night, baby,” you murmured.

“G’night, honey.”

Simon jerked awake at the first squawk. You hadn’t even moved by the time he was stumbling into the nursery and leaning over the crib.

“Wha’s wrong, little man,” he asked in a gravelly, sleepy voice.

The boy’s face was red, and tears and snot dripped anew. Little hands reached for Dad, and Dad picked him up.

“You’re alright.” Pats on the boy’s back and gentle bounces. “Dad’s here. Dad’s gotcha.” Small fingers burrowed into the collar of his hoodie and a small splotch of drool and snot darkened his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Simon leaned the boy back and asked him what was up.

He held up his little fist and opened and closed it. Hungry.

Simon kissed the boy on the forehead and walked to the kitchen. “Just like Uncle Johnny. Always ready for another bottle.”

Simon expertly made half a bottle with one hand, while the little man sniffled and watched. A tissue to his nose helped a bit, and Simon decided against another round with the nose aspirator till the morning. Well, sunlight morning. All of you had slept from 7 PM to 1 AM.

More kisses and your boy started his bottle while Simon made himself a snack. With a sandwich and a boy in each hand, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. 

While the baby was transfixed by dancing fruit and sucking down his bottle, Simon could eat the whole sandwich. And “rest his eyes” for a few minutes.

A particularly dangerous sounding burp woke him again and he immediately grabbed a towel and started burping him, turning his back to the screen.

“Christ, that was a wet one. Get any on ya?”

No response as the boy stared at the blueberries and pineapples.

“Yeah, I’d keep that to myself, too.”

After almost five minutes, the boy’s head sat heavily on his shoulder and his brown eyes could barely stay open. Another diaper change, more rocking, and then placing him in the crib like an active bomb.

Success.

Simon changed his hoodie without bothering to look at the damage (he could smell it) and crawled back into bed with you.

The bags under your eyes had lightened in your sleep, and your nose looked less raw. He kissed the tip of it gently and fell back asleep with ease.

Simon woke up again around 10 AM, to small hands grabbing at his nose. He opened bleary eyes to the smile of an elated infant.

“Dadadadada.”

“Mm, tha’s me.”

The mattress dipped a little as you sat down.

“Morning, handsome.”

The little man crawled on top of his dad’s chest and sat down, playing with his nose and the strings of his hoodie.

“Morning, sexy,” chuckled Simon, guiding your face to his. A sweet kiss, joined by the baby, who shoved his face against yours. He didn’t like being left out.

“Guess who drank a full bottle this morning?”

“Didja really?” cooed Simon, poking the boy’s tummy. “He had half a bottle at around 1.”

“He woke up at 1?”

Simon squeezed the little socked feet. “Yeah, he was hungry. And needed a change. He went back down quick after that.”

You kissed your husband’s forehead. “Thank you for waking up, baby.”

“Mm. You needed some more sleep.” A nip at your lip until you leaned back in for another longer kiss. “Can’t have my sexy thing staying sick.”

“I’ll get him tonight then.” He scrunched up his face and started to protest. “Ah. I can’t have my sexy thing sick either.” You squeezed the muscles of his upper arms and waggled your eyebrows.

The baby squawked and broke the sultry eye contact between you and your husband. Then he giggled as he and his father’s chest went up and down with a laugh.

“Oh trust me, little man, you’ll be an only child for a while.” Simon poked the boy’s tummy again. “Don’chu worry. Sneezing straight into my yawning mouth has made sure of that.”

Posted: 2024 January 17

Thank you for reading! Enjoyed this? Check out my other works!

[thethronezone]

Primarchs and baby's first steps

Mortarion didn't think he was a good father. He didn't even think he was an 'alright' father. But there had to be something he did right, considering the fact he was currently witnessing his child taking their first steps. There was a look of intense focus on their face, one Mortarion hadn't thought a toddler capable of. He briefly wondered if he made the same expression himself sometimes. Mortarion did not dare make a sound or any sudden movements, scared that it would somehow ruin the movement. But as his child toddles closer, he found himself murmuring encouragements. "That's it, you're doing it... One step at a time, just like that..." Just as they are about to reach him, they stumble, but Mortarion catches them before the hit the floor and swoops them up in his arms, bringing them close. "You did it!" He can't help the smile that splits his face and the audible love in his voice and for once, he doesn't mind. Right now, Mortarion needs his child to know how proud he is of them.

Fulgrim walked with his child's hands in his own, helping them keep the balance as they got a hang on walking. And really, they were doing fantastic! "That's it, my dear!" he praised. "You're doing amazing!" The toddler smiled absentmindedly at the praise but there was a look of focus on their face that had their brow furrow and their cheeks puff up. Fulgrim found the expression absolutely adorable and had his hands not been occupied with holding theirs, he would have pinched their cheeks. His little one really was the most perfect child in the galaxy, there was so doubt in his mind. This conviction only grew when he carefully let go of their hands and watched them walk a couple of steps on their own. They turned around and squealed with glee when they saw him, clapping their hands and toddling back towards him. "Absolutely brilliant!"

Whenever Angron visited his child, he only ever sat on the far end of the nursery, stewing in his own misery. Today, the kid had been placed on the floor, surrounded by a few toys to entertain them. Usually, that was enough. But not today. Today, they wanted something different. First, they made a noise. "Bah!" Angron briefly looked up from where he was polishing his mace before looking back down again. "Ba-bah!" they exclaimed once more. This time, Angron merely grunted in response. Well that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. Using their arms to push themself up from the floor, they stood up. Stared at their distracted father. Frowned. And took a step. Then another. And another. It was only by the time they were halfway across the room that Angron looked up and saw them. Walking. "You-!" he exclaimed before slowly placing his mace on the table and stared with wide eyes as his child made their way towards him. It was only when they'd successfully made their way over and clung to his leg that his mouth twitched before breaking out into a full, slightly savage, smile. For the third time ever, Angron picked up his child and held them high above his head. "A fighter!" he exclaimed with glee and for a moment, he managed to forget about the pain he lived in.

Magnus should have expected this. Their first words had been in the context of wanting a specific book. It made sense that their first steps would happen in a similar circumstance. Now, Magnus enjoyed reading to his child. He liked the way their eyes followed his finger as he used it to underline the word he was sounding out, the way they would light up when they recognized a story they particularly enjoyed. And they did have their favorites. This became undeniable when, one day, Magnus asked them which book they would like to read now. He had expected them to point, expected them to maybe say the title of one of the books. What he hadn't expected was for them to slide out of his lap and, faster than he could comprehend, toddle their way over to the bookshelf and pick out a book he had read for them many times before. "This one!" they had exclaimed eagerly, looking back at him with expectation in their eyes. Magnus had to cover his mouth with one of his hands to stifle the laugh that he felt bubbling up. Instead, he nodded, picked up the book and his child in one swoop and began telling the familiar story, his chest warm with pride the entire time.

Perturabo was a busy man. There were war campaigns to plan, siege engines to design, troops to train and now, on top of that, a child to raise. He was on a strict schedule. So, when he decided it was time for his child to learn how to walk, there was no changing his mind. First, he would help them. A steady hand on their back to keep their balance and another on their shoulder, to steer them forward. At first them would trip and stumble but Perturabo always made sure they quickly got up again, even if they cried and whined. Once he was certain that they could keep their balance on their own, he stepped back. "Get over here." His child looked uncertain, so he snapped his fingers, getting back their attention. "Now." The first couple of tries were pathetic. Stumbling, fumbling. Too top heavy, too wobbly. "Again" Perturabo would say when they fell. "Again", when they faltered. Some might have called it cruel, that they were just a child, an infant. An Perturabo might have agreed with them, had this been a normal child. But this was HIS child and he knew that the world would not be kind to them, that if they wanted to have a chance at success, at LIFE, then they had to be tough. Preparing them for this was the kindest thing he could do for them. And when his child finally managed to walk without falling, Perturabo knew he had made the right choice.

After the baby's first word, Alpharius and Omegon had started speculating when they would start walking. It was only a matter of time, said Omegon. Any day now, said Alpharius. What they hadn't expected was to one day enter the nursery, only to find the crib empty. Well, almost empty. Standing in the doorway, they witnessed their child climb out of the crib, stand on the floor and take a couple of steps as they turned around. They appeared shocked when they saw Alpharius and Omegon standing there, watching them. For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, carefully, the toddler sat down on the floor and, with the most innocent look they could muster, asked "Up?" with grabby hands. Alpharius and Omegon came to the startling realization that, not only might their baby have been able to walk for a while now, but also that they were already a manipulative little thing. Oh, they were both so proud of their little one.

After the baby had been born, it was seldom that one saw Lorgar without them in his arms. He loved cradling them, rocking them, holding them close wherever he went. It was frankly a miracle that the child learned how to walk at all, with how rarely Lorgar put them down. But walk they did. Lorgar had just looked away for a second, a short moment, only to turn back around and see his dear child toddling towards him. Whatever he held in his arms, whatever he had been doing the moment before, he dropped at the same time that he dropped to his knees, arms wide and his eyes filled to the brim with tears as he beckoned his child closer. A few steps and they were in his arms and Lorgar held them close, burying his face against the top of their head. "Oh my little miracle, my wonder! Every day you surprise me, every day you remind me just how beautiful life is!" If his child fully understood him or not, he did not know, but he knew that they could hear just how proud he was of them and just how much he loved them.

Horus holds their hands in his as he teaches them how to walk, murmuring words of encouragement. "One foot before the other, yeah, you've got it". He keeps his voice in check, talking with a low, soothing tone so he won't distract them from the task. And when he feels like they've got this, when he feels them growing more confident, he gradually starts letting go of their hands, so slowly that they don't notice it's happening until he's completely let go. They stop, turn their head to look at him. Horus smiles back. "It's ok, you can do it." And his child already knows they can trust him so they clench their little fists and with a face of determination and focus, walks. It's wobbly, it's slow, but they're doing it all on their own. They reach the wall and once again, they turn around to look at him but this time, they are smiling widely. "Dah!" they exclaim and Horus rushes forward, circles his arms around them and spin them around. "So good! My amazing child!" A thousand battlefields, ten thousands battles, nothing can compare to the pride he feels for them in this moment.

Konrad sat in an armchair, head propped up against a closed fist, staring at his child as they played with their toys. He felt his lips slowly curl into a smile when the child raised one of the toys and made it swoop down, almost as if it were flying. His smile grew when his baby suddenly looked up and locked eyes with him. To most people, Konrad's smile was a thing of terror, something that caused nightmares, but his little one merely smiled back. His smile froze and slowly morphed into an expression of disbelief however, when suddenly, his child pushed themself up to stand on their own two feet. They had done this before, it wasn't new, but something was different. There was this focus and determination in their eyes that made him pause and lean forward in his seat. Konrad's child stared at him, smiled once more, and then took a first, slightly wobbly step. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly but surely, step after step, the child made their way over to him. Before they made it, Konrad got up from his seat and kneeled on the floor, catching them in his arms when they finally got there. His child, squealing with glee, and him, holding them tight. They will stay like that for a while, until Konrad's emotions get back in check and he knows he can look at them without feeling the need to shed tears.

Laying on his stomarch, on the nursery floor, Sanguinius smiled lovingly at his child. They were investigating one of his wings, their own flapping slightly against their back. When they reached to grab ahold of one of his primary feathers, he raised that wing to avoid their tiny, but deceptively strong, hands. But his little sweetheart was faster and more determined than he had given them credit for. They grabbed ahold of his wing and when it rose, so did they, until they were standing on their own two feet. Sanguinius paused, worried he might make them fall over if he moved his wing any higher. But eventually, his child released their hold on his feathers on their own. He sighed in relief. Then almost jumped to his feet when the toddler took a step towards him. With bated breath, he watched them take their first steps until finally, they reached him, patting his head energetically. With a laugh, Sanguinius grabbed them in his arms and turned over on his back, lifting them above himself. They squealed and cooed, wings flapping like they were about to take flight. "Look at you! So amazing! My little heart!"

Corvus stared at his child. The child stared back. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch but fought to keep his expression schooled. "And how" he began, "did you get up there?" From where they sat atop the table, covered in ink and surrounded by empty ink bottles and smudged parchments, his child batted their eyelashes innocently, as if asking 'who, me?'. When they realized that their father saw right through their act, the toddler huffed. Then, pushing themself up, they stood up on the table. This already had Corvus eyes wide. When they then took a couple of wobbling steps towards him, he felt his mouth drop open. Unimpressed by his reaction, his toddler patted their dirty hands against him, staining him with ink. Not that Corvus found himself minding that all too much. No, he was too busy wondering just when his kid had learned how to walk. How many places had they gotten into when he wasn't looking? Did he have to create new safety protocols for mischieveous toddlers now?

Everyone knew that Ferrus was quite proud of his child. He didn't say it out loud of course, but it was evident in how he spoke about them, the way his mouth would twist into an almost smile. For as young and small as they were, his child was not weak. No, they were durable, headstrong. When Ferrus gave them a puzzle or activity to do, they tried and tried until they got it right. Like now. He had constructed a small maze for them. Easy for an adult but for an infant? It provided a challenge. A challenge that his child quickly got fed up with, as they faced dead end after dead end. But instead of just giving up, of crying and whining until he picked them up, they instead did something quite unexpected. First they stood up. Which was smart. The walls oft he maze where quite low and they could easily peer over them once standing. Except they did not return to crawling. Instead, using the walls of the maze for support, they navigated the maze until they got out. Full of pride, Ferrus couldn't help himself. He scooped his child up and pressed his forehead against theirs. "Intelligent and strong!" he praised, voice uncharacteristically tender.

After the whole 'first word' debacle, Rogal had grown to expect the unexpected when it came to his child. So when they one day wanted him to put them down on the floor, Rogal didn't question it. When they pushed themself up on their two feet, he didn't question that either, though he did arch an eyebrow. And when they then proceeded to walk confidently up to a table and climb up on one of the chairs, the only thing he said was a simple "Ah." From their seat, they gestured at the chair next to theirs and, catching their drift, Rogal sat down. He stared at his child, who looked very satisfied about this whole thing. "So you walk now?" His child nodded. "Yeah." Well then, Rogal guessed that was the end of that conversation, though he could not help but wonder if all parents experienced these kinds of situations. The books he had read hadn't suggested it. Granted, his child was very special.

Now, some might say that, bringing a baby into a forge was very irresponsible and not a good idea at all. And, granted, Vulkan saw their point. But on the other hand, they were his child! He had been in the forge at their age, it seemed only fair that they got to experience it as well! They also didn't know how to walk so he could place them at a safe distance and away from anything that could harm them. Problem solved! At least, that's what he thought when he set to work on a new project, hammering away at the smoldering metal. "FIAH!" his child exclaimed and Vulkan chuckled. "Yes, little one, fire." Then, a few moments later, "Want". Huh. Now that was a new word. Curious as to what had grabbed their attention, Vulkan turned around, only to drop her work in shock as he saw his baby toddle towards the open furnace. With the speed of a Primarch and the reflexes of a father, Vulkan dove to catch his child before they could reach their destination. Immediately, he started fretting, checking them for any injuries. The child only stared up at him, brows furrowed and clearly upset. "Fiah..." they grumbled. Vulkan sighed and touched their forehead with his own. Maybe those people were right. Maybe his child should wait a bit before they got to be in the forge.

Lion had been caught off guard when his child had uttered their first word. That was not going to happen again. That's why he was staring down at his child, a small distance away from him. When his child looked up at him and smiled, he struggled to keep his face straight. "Come here", said Lion and gave his child a curt nod. The child frowned, confused, then started crawling over to him. Lion promptly shoved them back to their original spot with his foot. "Not like that. Walk." Still confused, his child tried to crawl over to him again. And again. And again. Each time, Lion pushed them back to where they started. They were starting to grow agitated, huffing and whining, slamming their tiny fists against the floor. Lion didn't flinch in the face of this tantrum. "Walk." His child glared at him, huffed, and finally stood up. A bit wobbly, but they were on their feet. They looked at him. Frowned, suspicious. And then took a step. When he didn't immediately push them back, they took another, and another, until they were slowly toddling towards him. It was only when they reached Lion, grabbing one of his legs, that he allowed himself to react. A proud smile appeared on his face as he finally scooped his child up. "There. I knew you would get it eventually."

Leman quickly found out that his kid was very food motivated. Just like their old man, hahaha! That's why he got the splendid idea to use it to train them. Ok, maybe 'train' was not the right word, they weren't an animal performing tricks. But that's how he found himself holding a juicy, tender piece of meat, right above them, urging them to stand and follow him. Some might have scoffed at this. But he who laughs last laughs best because wouldn't you know it? The kid stood up! And when Leman took a step backwards, they followed! Though they did look a bit unsure... He waggled the piece of meat enticingly. "Mmm, so tender, so juicy! Maybe I'll just eat it myself!" That apparently did it as his kid then all but rushed him, snatching the meat right out of his hands before shoving it in their mouth, gnawing on it with their tiny baby teeth. Leman laughed heartily and ruffled their hair. "There ya go! Good work, pup!"

Jaghatai's child learned to walk before they could talk and they learned to run before that. The Khan had decided that today would be the day that his child took their first steps and, placing his child on one end of the room and waiting at the other with his arms stretched out and encouraging them, he waited. He smiled when they stood up. Smiled even wider when they took a step forward. And then looked on with bewilderment as they ran straight past him towards the open door instead. Throwing his head back with laughter, Jaghatai followed his child as they ran out the door (capable of keeping up with them with just his walking speed) and watched where they decided to go. He greeted his legion as he passed them, none of them appearing surprised by the fact that the Khan's child could already run like the wind. It made his hearts clench with pride and he looked forward to seeing wherever his child decided to take them.

It takes Roboute longer than he'd like to admit for him to notice that his child is walking. To be fair, he was deep in paperwork and had a headache that was steadily getting worse. For all he knew, his child was on the floor in front of his desk, playing with their toys. If it hadn't been for an Ultramarine getting his attention, a slightly apologetic but frantic "lord Guilliman", then he might have missed it entirely. So he looked up. That's when he saw his child, on their feet and toddling over towards a nearby sofa, one usually reserved for guests or visitors. Together with the Ultramarine, Roboute watched his child leave their toys behind and, upon making it to the sofa, climb up on it, lie down, sigh heavily and take a nap. Roboute glanced at the Ultramarine and after a second, placed a finger in front of his mouth, signaling him to stay quiet. The space marine nodded and went back to standing guard. Roboute took a moment to bask in his child's achievement before going back to work, a slight smile on his face. How he wished he could join them as they napped.

[cipher-fresh]

💬 suffering-academy-student Follow

does anyone else wish u could regenerate but not change and not use up a regeneration. just like do a hard reboot

#i'm gonna call myself The Sufferer

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💫 constellationon-kasterborous Follow

what is it even like to not be a time lord do you like get impaled by rebar at 45 years old and just die. couldn't be me

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🚀 silvertraveller Follow

_____👶 timelordtoddler Follow

_____playing with a roentgen radioactive brick in the nursery rn

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🔉 gallifreyballifreyshmallifrey Follow

i love this website because its the only place you can say you have interfered with the natural flow of time and you won't get investigated by the CIA

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😉 winkles-wonderland Follow

who up lording they time

#no I don’t need to add any extra tags thanks I trust my audience will find it

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👦 theresponsibilityavoider Follow

I was skipping school hanging out in a clearing and some guy exited a portal from a CONFESSION DIAL 😭 and he was like “Go to the city. Find someone important. Tell them I’m back. Tell them, they know what they did. And I’m on my way. And if they ask you who I am, tell them ‘I came the long way round’” 😭😭😭 what the hell

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💬 oneofthegreathouse Follow

if you have a fetish for people being born through bodily reproductive systems KEEP IT TO YOURSELF!!!! nobody needs to see that on their dash

__♻️ callmeweaver Follow

__Ok Puriteen you need to get on my level. sexualize looms OR ELSE!!!!!

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💫 thecurator Follow

the high council of gallifrey: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “the timeless child” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw some pre-Hartnell doctors

My buddy the Master pacing: the Time Lords are lying to us

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🏠 somegrandolgallifrey Follow

I heard some kid crying himself to sleep in a cabin. COULD not be me

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♾️ thatacademygraduate Follow

Went to a museum today! I saw a lot of really cool stuff but something I couldn’t stop thinking about was this horrifically busted up Type 40 TARDIS that literally looked like it was held together with duct tape, chewed gum and prayers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girl kill that thing I’m so sorry….

#i think it was even still alive. please put it out of its misery for the love of rassilon

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🥽 howsitgoinghowitgoes Follow

Bruh my best friend and I tried to play a prank on my brother but it went wrong and he hit his head so badly he REGENERATED i need to go into hiding

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😐 the-hybrid Follow

Who am I

#please for the love of god help me

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🔹 thetasigma Follow

Koschei and I skipped school today and went stargazing. We agreed to visit every single one together when we leave this stupid planet. I love them so much. We're going to be together forever.

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💭 siblingofkarn Follow

Why do I keep having nightmares about Gallifrey being destroyed in like 5 different ways, that could literally never happen

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🤖 pompousandstuffy Follow

I literally hate children soooo much like today some ninety year old tried to speak to me. KILL YOURSELF THIRTEEN TIMES ‼️

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👽 cheapandnastytraveltime Follow

For a Time Lord I have such a bad sense of time. if chamelon arches were real i would make myself literally any other species

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😍 starstartwinkletwinkle Follow

I have to stare into the untempered schism tomorrow. Any advice?

[kaybeemes]

im attempting a nuzlocke atm so its got me thinking about kbms but pokemon….. further thoughts and some sketches below the cut 👀

Mithrun is a former region champion who got paranoid that one day someone would beat him, so he kinda snapped and became an antagonist

He used the power of his former champion team to summon a legendary (maybe giratina? idk) to assure that he’d always stay champ, it backfired, now he’s starting his journey over again as a regular trainer

The only pokemon I’ve thought about him having (both before and after) is an Abra bc of the teleporting so feel free to suggest others. I considered Gogoat and some sort of snake pokemon for his former team (for obvious dungeon lord reasons) but I’m not sure if those are really his style

The Canaries are his former grunts from when he was an antagonist (tho Pattadol’s probably more like a former commander, not grunt) who stuck around and help him out now

Milsiril is a former Ghost type gym leader who knew Mithrun when he was region champion. Since she saw how much misery being a trainer brought him and how devastated other trainers were when she beat them, she highly discouraged Kabru from becoming one

Kabru really wanted to be a trainer anyways and studied hard for it, but since his original hometown was decimated by out of control pokemon, he decided to be more practical and became a pokemon ranger instead. He’s very good at befriending pokemon alongside his partner pokemon, Lucario

He’s with Mithrun on his trainer journey now, helping him re-learn how to not just succeed in battles but also really care for and appreciate his pokemon beyond their strength and simultaneously Mithrun is subtly helping/encouraging Kabru to follow his dreams of being a trainer

I have vague ideas for the main 6 of dunmeshi also (the toudens being trainers filling out a pokedex, marcille being a contestant star who has unconventional and powerful pokemon, senshi being a pokemon caretaker/nursery worker, Chilchuck being a former gym leader, izutsumi just tagging along for the hell of it), but im thinking of this narrative through a kabumisu lens so im not really concerned with what they’re up to

[nostalgiclittlespace]

Hi, Marty!

May I please request CG!Angel with a fussy newborn reader, who won’t settle down despite him trying all of his usual tricks?

You got it! Angel is such a sweet caregiver :)

SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES

Title: Out Came the Sun

Pairing: CG!Angel & Little!Reader

Wordcount: 621

Description: Angel had been expecting you to wake up from your nap happy and ready to take on the rest of the day…not clearly distressed and regressed. But he’ll try every trick in the book and hold you until you feel better

Out Came the Sun

You had just woken up from a nap, so why were you still so fussy? Angel sighed softly, more worried than exasperated, as he readjusted his hold on you.  Despite his attempts to soothe away the light fussing that had filled his room and your nursery area for the past twenty minutes, distress still plagued your features.

All four arms wrapped firmly around you as you paced the distance of his room, he murmured soft reassurances over and over.  The ‘you’re okay’s,’ and ‘Mama loves you’s’ filled the room with the same certainty as your cries. The comforts were routine, normally used when you couldn’t verbally explain your needs, when life in Hell became too overwhelming, or after a long day that pushed bedtime a little too late.  

But rarely was waking up such a draining feat.  Where was the adorable yawn, or the wide eyes staring up at Angel as you rescued you from the confines of your crib?  The happy coos or little smiles?

“What’s got you so turned ‘round, sweetheart?  Mama’s here,” Angel hummed as he swayed in place.

You had long since buried your face against his fluffy chest, perhaps the only sanctuary you had against the pains of being in the waking world.  Your hands lightly gripped at the white fur, not tugging, but firm enough he wouldn’t dare move from your place.

The signals were distorted; your clinging implied tiredness, but your eyes were wide open.  His usual comforting techniques had not eased it, which was odd as well.  Getting any comprehensible words from you was out of the question, being far too small and overwhelmed to even consider prodding you.

“You can’t possibly be hungry again, can you?” Angel said, mostly to himself, as he ran through all the possible distresses he knew.  You had slept for a solid two hours (the usual), had a full bottle before that, had been changed when you first woke up…

As your fussing turned into tears, Angel abandoned his train of thought.  The root cause could be determined later; actually calming you down was more important.  

Approaching his bedside table, he opened the drawer and snatched the most reliable soother he had; pacifier in hand he gently coaxed it into your mouth as he bounced you in his arms. You sniffled, momentarily appeased as he swiped away the lingering tears.

“There you go, baby.  That better?” he murmured.

It was…to some degree.  Your frown and pinched expression had not diminished, misery quieted but not forgotten.  To the rocking chair then.

Angel continued to sway and rock you in his arms as he crossed the room again.  He gently shooed Fat Nuggets out of the recliner, where he had been snuffling in the baby blankets.   As the arachnid sat down, he scooped one up and tossed it over you.  Adjusting it so you were fully wrapped in its fleecy comforts, then nudging your pacifier into your mouth, Angel settled you both in the chair.  Slowly, he began rocking it back and forth, a steady and familiar rhythm.

“The Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the water spout.” he hummed the words of the classic nursery rhymes, an obvious favorite for both of you.  “Down came the rain and washed the spider out.  Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.  And the Itsy Bitsy Spider climbed up the spout again.”

You were still clinging, still fussy, still refusing to settle despite all his usual tricks.  But, Angel vowed to himself as he held you a little closer, he would be there until your sun came out again. No matter what it took, what had caused this dreadful storm in your mind and emotions; he would stay.

[margaritastation141]

"Rekindled" - John Price x Divorcee mom of teens

Chapter 5 summary: Felicity runs into someone at the grocery store. CW ⚠️ Smut towards end of chapter: verging on dub con; alcohol consumption and emotional vulnerability. Masterlist ✖︎ Ao3 Read this fic on Ao3 (priority uploads/chapter 6 out now) Playlist Previously

The day had been long. One file after another getting placed on her desk, high enough that she couldn’t even see her own desk plant by lunch (that poor thing ought to be put out of its misery by now). She’d nearly finished the last one when Mr. Abbott told her sternly it was after five and she should be heading home.

And of course, Toby messaged asking for cereal right as she got in her car, so she was now in the cereal aisle struggling to remember what she’d bought for him last time.

“Shit, I think you spoke her into existence,” a familiar voice drew Felicity’s attention to the end of the aisle but she didn’t look, already agitated by the tone. She knew that voice, that vitriol she always spoke with—so bitter. Kim. “I don’t want to—hi Effie, how are you?”

Biting her cheek, Felicity forced a smile as she turned, “Kimberly, I’m good, how are--” her eyes snagged on the bump nudging the handle of her trolley. Jesus, this was certainly late in the second trimester—if not the third already. “How are you and the baby?”

“Good! So good. You know, Sammy and I are having a girl—I know how much you used to want one. Pretty ironic huh?”

Her throat tightened, eyes burning even while she ducked her head, her laugh more sad than amused, “yeah. That’s great though, I miss when my boys were that small, they grow so quick,” she murmured, a pang of fondness running through her at the memory. Little hands pressing at her knees. Peels of excited laughter when she woke them up in the morning, hair all mussed from sleep. “You must be excited.”

Kim’s smile must’ve match Felicity’s, stiff at the corners, not reaching her eyes. “Yeah, Sam and I are just finishing up in the nursery. Made up her crib over the weekend.”

“I’m glad he’s excited too. It took me forever to get him to help with the baby after Logan, sounds like he’s turning a new leaf though, good for you.”

She hummed, “yeah. I suppose we bring out the best in each other—I mean I've always wanted a daughter, you know? We were so made to be.”

Felicity’s smile was stretched thin, brittle as her voice cracked, “lovely way of seeing it. Congrats Kim. I hope it’s a safe delivery.” She couldn’t have spent a second longer talking with the woman, quickly walking back down the aisle and as far as she could get from her—right down to the storage containers and cookware on the other side of the store, wiping her face with the cuff of her sleeve.

“Oh shit, Miss Parker!”

Jesus Christ, could she not catch a-- “Trent! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, hey what’s Logan been up to? I swear to God I haven’t seen him at school in ages.”

“What?”

“No, for real, he doesn’t even message me back. Did you ground him again or something?”

“No! No, what do you mean you haven’t seen him at school?” She tried not to let panic flare in her chest, but her resilience was already worn quite thin. “He’s been going every day?”

Trent merely shrugged, “haven’t seen him in like, over a week. Just fuckin’ M.I.A.”

“I’ll be sure to ask him—thanks for letting me know,” she said as he began to walk away, heading right in the direction from where she’d just came.

“Can you ask him to message me back? He's still got my speaker,” he called out over his shoulder, “catch you later Effie.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Shaking her head, she dug her phone out of her pocket, pulling up Logan’s contact as she made her way to the self-checkout. The line rang nearly five times before he picked up at seemingly the last second, “hey?”

“Hi, are you and the boys all home?”

“Uh, I think Jackson’s getting dinner with his track meet people or something, but Toby’s here. Why?”

She nodded to herself as she scanned her items, Jackson ought to pick up the phone once or twice, just to keep her in the loop, it was his worst trait as of late, “oh okay. Just wondering. Did I take out chicken for dinner this morning?”

“I dunno.”

Felicity sighed, swiping her card at the eftpos machine, rolling her eyes, “could you check?”

The kid groaned but she could hear him drag himself to his feet...only to yell at the door of what she guessed was his room, “TOBY!”

“What?!”

“Mom asked you to check if she took out chicken from the freezer.”

“Yeah, why?!”

“He said yeah,” Logan said, turning back into the receiver.

Felicity shook her head, leaving the store, “I heard. Hey, I just ran into Trent here at the store. He said he hasn’t seen you in a while? What’s that about, are you ditching classes again? I thought you were doing really well,” she tried her best to not let the edge into her tone as she put the groceries into the footwell of the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side of her car out in the busy parking lot.

Logan cursed under his breath, “Trent’s a shithead. What would he fuckin’ know?”

“Hey! Why would you say that?!”

“What, you like him now? He’s such a dick.”

“Where’s this coming from? Did you two fight or something?”

“It doesnt matter. What’s he care about me for?”

Felicity frowned, picking at the worn faux leather covering her steering wheel, paint peeling, “have you been missing classes Logan?”

“No, oh my god! Ask Mrs. Lowwitz or fuckin’ Mr. E. I haven’t missed anything!”

“Okay, okay, I believe you sweetheart. How about we talk about this some more when I get home?”

“Trent’s not even in any of my classes. He’s just pissed cause I don’t meet him for lunch anymore--”

“And why is that?”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, audibly frustrated even through the phone, “why are you like this?! Just asking every fucking question! It's not your business.”

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat, tears welling right back up in her eyes. “I was just worried something was wrong. But if—if you are going to class then that’s great,” she swallowed thickly, clearing her throat, “it’s my business as long as you’re living in my house Logan. I worry about you, I’m your mother.”

“Well, you can fucking stop. I’m not a fucking idiot, you know.”

“I—” the line cut just as she said, “know.”

Desperately willing herself not to cry in the supermarket parking lot, Felicity shifted, slouching back in her seat, arm propped up on the ledge of the door, head in her hand as she tried to take some calming breaths. But she didn’t last long before she was watching through rapidly blinking eyes, as Sam’s car rolled on through the parking lot, getting a spot just near the sliding doors out of the crisp wind.

From where she was parked, Felicity could see him get out of the car, his work shirt still on, the tech company he worked for embroidered above the chest pocket. Lanyard tucket into it now that his workday had ended. He wore a smile as he walked around, hand low on the curve of her back as he kissed her, opening up the boot to load in the groceries while she hoisted herself into the front. He looked happy. He never saw Felicity watching him, crying.

❀❀❀

She awoke in a panic. There was a loud buzzing from the center console, from the cupholder, and a sharp knocking against the window where she’d been resting her head. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, shit, what time was it?!

Everything was blurry and much darker. Felicity squinted out, a streetlight casting light over her car and the supermarket parking lot—rain fell in a steady, warping blanket across her windscreen. Someone stood close beside her car with a dim flashlight, their knocking like rocks against the glass until she cracked the window open, shivering from the lack of heat in the car and squinting up into the light, wincing.

“Hey sugar, just checking that you’re alright? We’re closing up now and don’t permit vehicles overnight, I’m sorry,” the older woman said, a hand raised to shield her eyes from the rain. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Shit—what—what time is it?” Felicity asked, starting up her car, “I’m sorry,” she blushed hard, worse than just being cold, “I don’t know what happened, it’s—”

“Rough day. I get it sweetie, it’s alright. You get home safe now, okay?”

“Okay, thank you, I’m sorry.” The woman blended into the night as she pulled away, the rain too thick to see much more than her flashlight in the rearview.

She pushed the speed limit the entire way home, rubbing at her eyes that were still a little puffy, until she finally pulled into her own driveway and turned the car off, quickly running up the drive to get in the house but the door was thrown open right as she reached the porch, light spilling out into the late autumnal night, catching on raindrops.

John was frowning down at her from her own doorway, phone in hand, still waiting on her to pick up. “You’ve ten seconds to explain sweetheart.”

Felicity blinked up at him, sniffling from the cold, the rain catching on her blouse. “Is everyone okay? I don’t—I don’t know what happened. I went to the store to get cereal and—and—I just had such a bad day,” she sobbed out, tears overwhelming her.

“Mom?!” Jackson’s voice came from somewhere behind Price’s shoulder. “Mom—what happened—what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay,” she sniffled, wiping her face, “just a long day, sweetheart. I’m okay. Where are your brothers? Is everyone okay? I’m sorry. The time got away from me and I—” As she was herded inside she saw Logan sitting on the stairs up to the bedrooms, glaring up at her, and a fresh wave of guilt crashed over her before she could get a word out.

He’d been waiting for her.

“Logan I—” he stood and walked right back upstairs, not so much as hearing her out, and Felicity’s strength waned, leaning back a little.

Price’s hand gently found the small of her back. “Everyone was just a little worried where you got up to, but they’re okay. Got some pizza in the kitchen for them. You must be hungry too, yeah? Nearly eight thirty.”

The hallway loomed in front of her, the echo of Logan’s closed door making her jolt, her chest tight as Jackson hugged her. “Where were you?” Toby asked, poking his head out of the living room, a soft frown marring the few freckles between his eyebrows.

On autopilot, she moved forward and hugged him too, “got held up at work. I’m sorry I forgot about my phone.”

• • •

“We left some pepperoni pizza for you,” Jackson said, brows twisted as he looked at his mother, eye level with her, “if you’re hungry.”

John watched Felicity’s shoulder knot up as she nodded, her smile pushing at her cheeks but not reaching her eyes. “Yeah, um—I’ll just put my things away. Yeah?”

“Hey, I reckon it’s about time mom gets a little time out of the house, yeah? You guys can handle yourselves for an hour or two while she takes a breather? Work must be pretty tough at the moment.” He locked eyes with the two boys still downstairs, “how’s that sound?”

The two of them looked at their mom, eyeing the splotchy flush up her neck, the watery smile on her lips that looked more sad than happy. Jackson nodded, “okay.” After another minute of quiet deliberation, Toby nodded too, looking up at Price warily but not objecting.

Closing the door gently behind them, it was a quiet walking over to John’s house, the rain already lessening as they went. “Reckon you need a nice drink, hm? Something to warm you up—you a whiskey kind of girl?”

She huffed a laugh, watching her feet as they climbed the porch and he unlocked his door, ushering her inside, but her tone was bitter, “not a girl anymore, John.”

“Not an old maid either,” he grunted, snappy, bordering on a reprimand that finally made her look up at him, “want a drink and a chat sweetheart?”

“Are you offering or telling me?”

“Telling,” he grinned, closing the door behind her.

“Well then,” she grumbled, trailing after him as he went to the kitchen, leaving her heels by the door, feet gingerly set back down on the hardwood floors. “I really did have a long day at work,” she began, her story quickly unwinding the moment she let the first words free.

In the kitchen, John was confronted with a choice, wine or whiskey. Tough. He poured her a healthy glass of red while she wandered to the couch, pouring himself two fingers worth of bourbon, washing his hands before taking the glasses through to her. Handing her, her glass, he set his on the coffee table and turned on the lamps either side of the couch, the warm light softly diffusing over her crumpled clothes.

“And it’s been, what, three years since we finalized the divorce?” Felicity sighed, swinging her legs up on the couch in the space between them, leaning back against her side of the couch. “Like, come on, I can’t imagine having a baby at this age—I mean, I know she’s like, fucking twenty-three, but he’s—ugh—he’s forty with a baby on the way?! What is he thinking?!” She stretched and John’s eyes followed the strain of her shirt buttons against her chest; threads taught like the zipper of his jeans.

“Maybe he’s got some kind of fucking kink for twenty-year-olds—you know he got me pregnant in my second year of university? I was so pissed at him but—” she brought her knees up a little, toes sneaking under the blanket he was partially sitting on to warm up. John nearly bit his tongue clean off, not wanting to look down her skirt while she could catch him. “But we could afford it with that tech job of his. We moved out here to the suburbs and I could finish my degree from home. You know—I thought we were in love. I thought he liked me! We got fucking married, right?!”

“Yeah,” John hummed, knuckles white on the edge of the couch as the plush muscle of her calf called out to him like a siren, fingers aching to tear the dark nylon coating her skin like oil. “Disrespectful little prick,” he added, watching the contents of her glass dwindle.

She hummed a soft little noise, a dopey smile lifting the corners of her lips as she refocused on the man opposite her, the lion toying with its food, lifting one foot from beneath his thigh to prod it teasingly, “more guys should be like you, John. You’re so nice to me. And you’re helpful and stuff,” she giggled when his hand caught her ankle, not letting her hide away under the blanket again, pulling her foot into his lap. “And you’re smart too—just know how to do stuff.”

In all honestly, John wasn’t thinking with much more than his cock right now, he huffed a laugh, eyes drawn to the press of her lips on the edge of her glass, watching her tongue dart out to lick the rim of it like a real tease, “flattery will get you anywhere love.”

Her nose crinkled as she brought her other foot to rest in his lap, “yeah?”

“Sore feet?” he asked softly, running his hand up the curve of her calf, thumb digging into the pit of her knee to watch it knock into the other, thighs pressing together. He wondered what it would take to get them to fall apart. To let him in. “Must be,” he didn’t let her answer, brushing his thumb against the inside of her knee before dragging his hand back down to her foot, “with no one to do this for you.”

“Hm?” her brows pressed together a little, lips parting as he dug his thumb into the arch of her foot, her grip tightening around the stem of her wine glass.

“Anybody looking after these aching little feet of yours, sweetheart?” he asked, voice cooing when her lashes fluttered, her leg jolting into his touch as he pressed a tender spot. He clucked his tongue, digging into the spot again, a little harsher, coaxing out a whimper. “No one’s takin’ care of you, huh? You need someone to help you relax, I reckon.”

“Y-yeah, no one,” she whispered, breath hitching when he switched to the other foot, knees knocking together again, brows furrowed tight as she hissed, trying to pull away from the discomfort, “John—”

“S’okay love, I know it hurts. M’gonna make it feel better,” he murmured, waiting until she set her glass on the table before pulling her feet more firmly into his lap, “you want that? Want someone to make it better?”

Her rosy wine flush darkened across her cheeks as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, eyes dark and owlish as she looked at him, stubborn to admit it. “Mhmm,” she nodded, lip glossy when she let it go.

Christ, he could’ve cried at the dip of her head, the way she didn’t look away. He patted his thigh, and her eyes dropped instantly, “c’mere.”

“Sit on your lap?” she asked, voice soft.

“Not gonna offer again.” Because he couldn’t. His voice would crack. He’s trying so hard to keep himself in check even his blunted nails could rip a hole in the arm of the couch. Just sit on—

The way she moved was gentle, all guilty little smiles as she tucked her feet into her side to turn around on the couch. John certainly didn’t mind the view when she back up onto his lap. Something small and dark slightly visible through her shirt on her lower back, piquing his curiosity.

“I um—” she glanced at him, “it’s been a while since—”

“Oh, you haven’t cum in a while?” he asked, voice turned sympathetic, hand trailing up the inside of her leg until he reached her knees, pressed firmly together. “Gonna need to get in here, if you don’t remember.” His grin was terrible, cruel really, but she listened, and he couldn’t have smiled any wider. He skimmed his nose up the curve of her neck, inhaling deep until her perfumed curled in his lungs like smoke. “Fuckin’ hell, love,” he cursed as his hand delved beneath her pencil skirt, enveloped in her warm inner thighs, “just about runnin’ a bloody fever.”

She squirmed, turning her face to hide in his neck. But he didn’t let her, tilting his head just so that their lips brushed. He felt the way her breath hitch when she gasped, eyes snapping open, “John—I—” His thumb brushed a hot little damp spot between her thighs and she just about bit her tongue, eyes widening.

“Are you always like this?” he groaned, the gravel in his voice sending shivers across her skin, “achin’ for someone to sort you out? To get you out of your head for a little while?” Her breath shuddered against his lips, and she moved in closer, angling for a kiss, but he didn’t let her, shifting his face so she only caught the corner of his mouth, “need an answer first, Effie.”

He grinned when the fabric between her legs changed in texture, smooth, taught nylon, suddenly soft cotton—a hole in her tights for him to hook his finger into and pull. Her hips shifted on his lap, and he clenched his jaw as her hip pressed into his crotch, cock hard as a fucking rock with hardly any bloody stimulation. “Please?”

“Please what, sweetheart? Don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

“I—” her brows shifted, hesitation plain as day in her eyes and John gave her a second to breathe, tilting his head back slightly.

“Not gonna judge you if you want me to touch you, Felicity. D’you want me to make you feel good?” She nodded, he smiled softly, “see? Not so scary, is it?”

Her nose wrinkled at his tone, and she curled a little more into his chest, “I’m not a baby, John.”

He huffed a breath, “alright then, sweetheart,” and he tore that little hole in her stockings wide open. She gasped, eyes flashing wide, mouth agape, looking at him. “I’m gonna rub this warm, wet cunt ‘til you tell me exactly how you want it then.”

Not wasting a second, he tugged her panties to the side, groaning softly in appreciation of the soft, slick curls he parted with the pad of his index finger. She stiffened right up at that first touch, fingernails biting into his shoulder when he dipped a little deeper, getting his fingers nice and wet, gliding back over her clit. “You stay silent, and this is all you’re getting—you know how nice it is to cum ‘round somethin’. Don’t wanna miss out just cause you’re actin’ all shy, do you?”

John added a little pressure, a second finger swirling around that fizzing little hotspot between her thighs, and she let out a soft whine, eyes half-lidded as she looked down at her lap, where his hand disappeared her beneath her skirt. Stubborn as all hell, she looked up at him, pupils dark in the dim light, “kiss me?”

“S’that all?”

“John.”

“Alright,” he grinned, and with his free hand he reached up to cradle the back of her head, bringing her in nice and close to slot their lips together. She had no chance to shy away when his tongue licked into her mouth, feeling out her gums and twisting it around her own tongue, prying one hell of a depraved moan out of her, her legs melting apart, heat spilling across his fingertips. There she is.

He pulled away but she was sucking his tongue in a way that had his cock throbbing against the teeth of his zipper, she let him go with a lewd pop, already leaning in for more, but he was getting antsy, “d’you want me to fuck you? Want me to stuff this hot little cunt with my fingers?”

“Fuck, yes please,” she moaned, hips rolling into his palm, mouth hot as she reached for him again, her arms going round his neck, fingers scratching at the back of his scalp and the nape of his neck in a way that made his shoulders tense up. “Mmm,” she hummed, tasting his bottom lip, tugging on it with her teeth, “you like it when I scratch you,” a fact, not a question.

He simply nodded, stealing her breath with another kiss, and suddenly her hands were everywhere. Under the collar of his shirt, up under the hem, feeling out the muscles of his back, exposing his skin to the warm couch cushion while her nails drew patterns he hoped he’d see in the morning. Not one to deprive, he didn’t stifle his groan, letting it pour into Felicity’s mouth as he sunk his finger knuckle deep, pulling back and slowing sliding in a second.

Even his palm was wet now, her panties probably ruined, and—fuck, he was going to cum in his pants.

His thumb turned on her clit, resuming that circular friction, making her clench right up as his fingers sank deeper still, curling in search of that— “oh,” her feet shifted, pressing into the cushions below as the sensation made her gasp, “oh—” she couldn’t even keep up with the kisses anymore, panting hot into his mouth, her forehead against his temple, lashes low against her cheeks as her brows furrowed tight.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, Effie,” Price grunted, his own gasp escaping him as he pressed his hips up, finally some pressure relieving the ache burning low in his gut. “Such a—mmmfuck,” he rocked his hips again, “such a pretty woman, aren’t you?”

Her thighs were clamping tight on his wrist, slowing his movements worse than the clenching of her cunt, walls tightening around his fingers, insistent as they were to curl against that spongey spot. He didn’t relent for a second though, putting his fucking shoulder into it, her knees shaking as she came with hiccupping sobs, his name falling off her tongue before she could muffle it with his mouth, twining her tongue hot around his. He was grunting as if he was balls deep, as if his cock wouldn’t be irritated by the zipper cutting into him, the pressure too good as he rolled his hips up into the side of her hip, his hand heavy on the back of her neck as he groaned, strained, deep as he came, cheeks flushed with the heat blossoming in his stomach, lighting sparking down his thighs making him tense up beneath her as his cum made his boxers stick to his balls.

They panted into each other’s mouths for a moment, still exchanging lazy kisses while he slowly eased his fingers out of her. A hot trickle of her own arousal spilled out after him, nearly making him chub right up all over again. “Same time tomorrow?” he murmured against her cheek, grinning, kissing her there too.

“I’ll check my calendar,” she breathed, turning her face to kiss him again…and again…and again until he made to stroke up the seam of her cunt again and she jolted—oversensitive. “Fuck—okay, okay,” she huffed, finally pulling back, “I think I’m done for now.”

“Oh, for now?” John couldn’t help but tease, mind still fuzzy and stuck on the sound of her.

She huffed a laugh, legs pressing back together again, “where’s the bathroom, John?” Standing, his hand followed her, steady on the curve of her backside when her footing wobbled for a second. Her blush was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen, “John?”

“Oh, yeah, bathroom—I’ll show you; it’s just down the hall—”

❀❀❀

Awkwardly, Felicity deposited herself over the toilet, just siting for a moment, her head falling into her hands in a single moment of clarity, flickering and fine as it might be.

What was she doing?

[pfhwrittes]

prompt: gaz and ghost on overwatch, watching soap talk to their contact on the ground, and roasting him alive on comms. just stepping on his neck nonstop. soap can hear them but can't react because the contact spooks easy -391780

@391780 i LOVED this prompt. nothing makes me happier than Ghost and Gaz banter (there's so much of it in the drafts for misery and festivals). hopefully this little blurb satisfies the prompt!

-- “Permission to speak freely, sir?” 

Soap’s earpiece crackles as Gaz opens the comms, distracting him for a second from the twitchy man in front of him. 

“Go ahead, sergeant.” Ghost rumbles.

“You ever realise that Soap stands with his hip cocked?” Soap can hear the shit eating grin in Gaz’s voice. The sleekit wee bastard. 

“Hm. Looks like a teapot.”

“A teapot, sir?”

“Like the nursery rhyme.” 

The comm crackles again as it cuts off Garrick’s stifled chuckle. 

Soap shifts his stance, subtly redistributing his weight to rest evenly and bringing his hands up to loop his thumbs into the shoulder straps of his vest. There, now he can’t be called a fuckin’ teapot. The informant flicks his eyes over Soap warily. 

The comm clicks on again.

“Think he heard us, sergeant?” Ghost asks, amusement lacing his tone.

“Can’t be sure sir, it appears Cap has taken Soap’s place temporarily.” Gaz’s voice wobbles with repressed laughter. 

“Can’t see it myself, Garrick.”

“Why’s that, sir?” 

“Doubt Price would dare show ‘is face if he had a mop like that on his head.” Ghost deadpans. Soap feels his eye twitch as Gaz chokes back another burst of laughter. Cheeky fuckin’ cunts. 

“Looks -” Gaz cuts off the comm before flicking it back on, “looks like he lost a fight with a pair of clippers -” the comm cuts off again and Soap swears he can hear Gaz wheezing somewhere above him. 

Soap moves one of his hands to scratch at the back of his helmet with his middle finger, aware of the way the informant tracks his movements. If those pair of wallopers blow this op, Soap swears to himself that he’ll dye every single one of Ghost’s balaclavas pink and sew a Saltire on the front of Gaz’s cap in place of the Union Jack. 

Abruptly the tone on the comms change. 

“Garrick.” Ghost snaps, the teasing lilt to the banter is gone and in its place is the hard tone Soap’s heard before when things are about to get dicey. 

“I see ‘em.” 

“Keep them in your sights, I don’t like the look of -” whatever Ghost doesn’t like the look of gets cut off as an explosion sends a shockwave of sound and dust over Soap, forcing him to cover his head from flying debris. 

- 

Much later when the three of them are getting chewed out by Price for “missing a whole fucking truckload of insurgents because you three were too busy dicking around on the bloody comms” Soap decides that his little sewing project isn’t nearly enough in the way of payback.

[joyoushyuck]

15:45

Donghyuck is shooting you a wide-eyed look, lips set in a pout, batting his lashes and all. His manipulation is as clear as daylight. He knows you can't resist his charm when he brings out his fatal puppy eyes. Under normal circumstances, you would have given in by now, but this is anything but normal.

You take another look at what you are sure is the ugliest house plant ever, repulsed by the mere sight of it. You don't understand why Donghyuck would go out of his way to pick the strangest of plants everytime he stepped into a nursery. You remember his past infamous pet plants. His devil’s ivy (which he so lovingly called divy) almost killed Daegal, and his mother of thousands was so revolting that his own mother refused to drop by until he got rid of it.

Now he wants a goddamn sea onion of all things to add to your list of greatest miseries. It's not even a seedling, it is fully grown and at a point where it just cannot get anymore hideous. The cherry on top is definitely the bulb sitting on top of the soil.

“Stop calling my baby ugly!” He whines.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. You sense an oncoming headache. “Hyuck, there are some ferns over there,” you point in the general direction of some decent-looking plants. “Do you want to take a look at them before we make a decision? I saw some moth orchids too-”

“Baby!” His gripe cuts you off. “We formed an instant connection the moment our eyes met! I just know this is it!”

You don't want to know what eyes he is talking about. The poor salesboy who had the misfortune of helping you find a plant looks like he is two seconds away from crying. Donghyuck is still giving you his fatal puppy eyes. This plant would ruin your aesthetics.

“Fine,” you relent reluctantly because the headache is getting worse and the salesboy is getting teary eyed. Not because you love Donghyuck or something.

Donghyuck does a small victory dance and cups your cheeks to press a quick kiss on your lips. It doesn't make your heart somersault into your stomach at all.

That's just gross.

If months later, you are the one taking care of Mr. Anion (a terrible pun) while Donghyuck (being the irresponsible father that he is) is on a world tour, it isn't because you love him either. Or whatever.

That's just gross.

-

Note

Working on your requests. Might take some time:)

Also Donghyuck would 100% be ugly plants enthusiast. He has that type of unhinged energy. Reblog if you agree.

(reblog even if you don't agree because it'll help me π_π)

P.S I'll answer the asks once I'm done writing the requests. I read all of them.

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin and Salvation: Chapter 1 (Sweet)

I don't even know what to say. I started a new fic (haven't abandoned my others don't worry!). I became consumed with the need to bang this one out. My first modern AU! I hope you enjoy/I welcome any feedback!

Chapter 1: Sweet

Fic summary: Azriel works for the mafia under his brother Rhysand, the boss of the family. After Rhys marries Feyre and she has a target painted on her back, he assigns his brothers Cassian and Azriel to guard her two older sisters in case of retaliation from rival families. Azriel begrudgingly accepts the job, but everything changes when he meets brown-eyed, sweet, secretive Elain. He must contend with his unexpected feelings, keep Elain safe, and, above all, avoid letting her into the bloodthirsty world of the mafia.

Chapter summary: Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian meet Feyre's older sisters. Azriel gets to know his new charge. Preview below!

Chapter CW: Descriptions of child abuse, particularly of foster children. Discussions of parent death. Mention of substance abuse/addiction.

Azriel opened the passenger door of his car with keyless entry and did a quick sweep to make sure no errant weapons were hanging around. When he found the front seat free of knives and pistols he held the door open and gestured to the passenger seat. 

Elain smiled gently and slid onto the seat, buckling the belt as Azriel shut the door and moved around to the driver's side. 

The engine purred to life and Azriel cringed as the car automatically connected to his phone and started playing the audiobook he was in the middle of.

He quickly turned the volume off. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

Elain giggled as Azriel backed out of the garage. “What was that?” She asked. 

He cleared his throat. “A book,” he answered. 

Elain looked at him sidelong. “You like to listen to books?” 

Azriel shrugged. Damn it. Why hadn't something cool been playing for that moment? Like some music? “I do,” he answered truthfully. 

“Me too,” Elain said in response. 

Azriel felt his shoulders relax slightly. 

She smelled so fucking good. 

Stop. Pull yourself together. 

“Direct me?” He asked as they approached the main road. She nodded. “East on the highway.” 

After a minute or so Azriel pulled onto the ramp and merged seamlessly. 

“Have you done this before?” Elain asked him. “Guarded someone?” 

“I have surveilled people plenty. I usually…collect information for Rhysand. But the people I follow do not typically know I'm following them.” 

Elain frowned slightly. “So you're like a spy.” 

Azriel felt a small grin break across his face. 

“Kind of, yes, I suppose.” 

Elain considered and then shrugged. “That sounds much more exciting than my job.” 

“Oh?” Azriel asked, scanning traffic and swinging into the fast lane. “You’re not an assassin or private investigator?” 

Elain snorted lightly. “I work in a plant nursery,” she answered. “But I love it,” she added warmly. “I don't make much, but it's worth it to spend my day surrounded by beauty.” 

God damn she was so fucking sweet.

“That sounds nice,” Azriel responded. And it did. He often wondered what it would feel like to have a normal, peaceful life. To not be surrounded by violence and death. But it was the only life he knew, and it saved him from the poverty and misery he once experienced.

“Do you like plants?” Elain asked him.

“Some,” Azriel answered. “I don't have much experience with gardening, but I actually really enjoy the conservatory at the cultural center.” 

He saw Elain's face light out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, I love it there,” she answered warmly. “It's so peaceful.” 

Azriel hummed in agreement. “Straight still?” He asked. Elain nodded. 

“A few more miles.” 

“I enjoy the bonsai trees,” Azriel continued. “I think I would be suited for caring for them.” 

Elain surveyed him from beside her.

“I think you're right,” she agreed. 

[slippinmickeys]

Thank you for expanding Funfetti! I am so thirsty for M&S keep William fics, I can't even tell you. More please? I'll take anything. But can you continue with the Thanksgiving Pageant stuff? What happens next?? please and thank you

“Tell me you didn’t tell him to say that, Mulder.” 

Scully had pulled him into a stairwell the very second they could escape the auditorium without notice. 

“I didn’t tell him to say that,” Mulder answered honestly. 

“Tell me you didn’t tell him to say that and fucking mean it,” she hissed. 

Mulder reached out and grabbed her by the hand, looking her in the eye. 

“I didn’t tell him to say that. I swear. He…” 

“Did he hear us? Did he hear us talking?” 

The boy had been shut up in his room. The idea that he had overheard them was unlikely. 

The third grade class was singing something that sounded an awful lot like ‘Fah Who Doraze’ from The Grinch. In the echo chamber of the stairwell it sounded eerie and hollow.

“Mulder!” Scully hissed. 

Mulder turned his attention fully back to Scully. “I don’t see how,” he finally said. 

“He must have though,” she replied, stepping back, fidgety and distressed. “He must have.”

And then Mulder remembered something. 

“Scully,” he said, his voice low and serious. “The last bit. The smallpox bit. I never said that out loud.”

“What do you mean you never-” 

Mulder watched as the color drained from Scully’s face. 

“I thought it,” he said. “I never…I thought it.”

The implications washed over both of them. 

“Oh my God,” Scully said for the millionth time that night, swallowing thickly and lowering herself to sit on the staircase. 

Mulder, knees popping, sat down next to her. The song ended and there was an underwater sound of polite applause echoing against the painted brick walls of the stairwell.

“You’d hoped it was telekinesis,” he said. “Just telekinesis.”

The baby’s mobile spinning on its own. Stuffies dropping from the air when they walked in the nursery. Umpteen other things they wrote off because it couldn’t have been what they thought it was, because there was a plausible explanation, because it was just a figment of their imagination. 

…Maybe not ‘they.’

“I hate that word.”

“How do you feel about ‘telepathy?’”

Scully turned to glare at him. 

“I’m not trying to raise your ire. But we’ve had fights about this, Scully, and every time you find some kind of plausible deniability.”

“Isn’t that why Blevins hired me?” She was deflecting, now. 

Mulder waited a moment, then reached out and grasped her hand. She didn’t pull back. 

”We both know he’s different. I’ve known for a while. I think you have too. But I also think there’s maybe no more denying it. Don’t you?” 

At some point, even skeptic extraordinaire Dana Scully had to accept what she was finally seeing with her own eyes. 

She sighed heavily. “Do you remember when you told me that maybe he wasn’t what those supersoliders thought he was?”

Mulder nodded, wondering where he was going with this. She turned to him with a look of misery.

“What do I do when it’s me thinking the same thing?”

Mulder turned more fully toward her. “What do you mean?”

Scully paused, sniffed, wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I mean…what if our son isn’t what we thought he was?”

“You mean the fact that he’s different? Special?” he asked. 

Her shoulders wilted. 

“Yes.” Quiet acknowledgement. And then she went on. “It’s not the…supernatural things…not completely, anyway. It’s not those things that are so hard for me to accept.”

“Then what is it?”

“Acknowledging his…gifts…means mourning the loss of the child I thought I had.”

“And embracing the one you do,” Mulder said. He kept all judgement out of his voice. 

Scully finally looked at him, her eyes full of tears. 

“It doesn’t make you love him any less,” Mulder said, knowing what he said was the complete truth. 

Scully looked at the floor and a tear streaked down her nose and swayed for a moment at the end of it before dripping to the floor at their feet. 

“It makes me feel like I have to protect him more,” she sniffed. “It’s going to make his life so much harder. It’s going to make our life so much harder.”

Mulder let go of her hand and put his arm around his shoulders, pulling her in tight. They sat for a moment, the sound of the fourth graders' song pinging through the air in round, hollow drops of sound. He squeezed her into himself once. 

“Scully,” he finally said. “I can’t think of two more qualified people to handle this. Can you?”

The moment was a quantum shift in their lives. Nothing would ever be the same again. But life went on. And you had to go with it. 

She inhaled expansively, sat up straight even under the weight of his arm. “No,” she said after a moment. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She gave him a watery chuckle.

“I suppose not,” he said, standing up and reaching out a hand to her. “Come on,” he went on, hauling her up. “We’ll sneak back in, watch the fifth graders chew some scenery, and be first in line for lemonade and cookies.”      

“We’re going to be fielding some questions,” she said with obvious distaste. 

Mulder swung the stairwell door wide, holding it open for her to walk through. 

“Let ‘em,” he said, following her through. “I’ve got a tight five on Thanksgiving as a tool of assimilation.”

[robo-milky]

Sometimes, you feel like you’re being watched.

The burning gaze of a person unknown, drilling its way into your back, staring into your very soul. It used to make you uneasy, wary, even. Yet you tried your very best not to show it.

Turning around discreetly around every corner, peeking from the corner of your eye. Stealing glances at shadowed nooks and crannies, trying to pinpoint the source of your unease. Remarkably, you’ve never seen anyone, even after all this time.

Not even the smallest glimpse of fabric, or a wayward footprint. Sighing to yourself, you resume your journey. Most stalkers tend to get conceited by now. They think they’re ever so sly, that they let down their guard. They get a little cocky, if to put in it such crude terms.

Unfortunately this stalker seems to be rather skilled in their profession. Despite your annoyance, you find yourself grudgingly admiring the ability of your wonderful little “friend”. Musing to yourself, you hum softly to yourself. A sweet little tune from the depths of your memory. You’ve heard it, somewhere before, but the memory seems determined to evade you.

“À la claire fontaine m'en allant promener

J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle que je m'y suis baignée.”

(As I was walking by the clear fountain,

I found the water so lovely I had to bathe.)

You pause, struggling to remember the next line. Only to hear another voice humming softly along with you. The same sweet little tune in a deep, passionate voice.

“ (refrain) Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai”

((refrain) I've loved you for so long, I will never forget you)

The voice had the richness of fine wine, yet there was something gravelly about it. It intoxicated you, creeping deep into your heart. A siren’s voice, you mused. A wonderful sound that was simply music to your ears.

You could curl up right next to the singer and listen forever, until your body rotted away. It was mesmerising, enchanting… spiriting you away from the present like a prince in a fairy tale.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you felt a warm breath, waft against the nape of your neck. Before a pair of soft lips pressed against it, gentle and tender. A kiss, like one a gentleman would yield towards a fine lady.

A soft chuckle was laughed as your skin flushed pink, before another kiss was pressed into your skin. But like the meek light from a sunset, the sensation was gone all too soon.

A weight pressed into your shoulder. Turning around, you see a flash of blonde, before those soft, gentle lips press against yours, capturing them in a lovely kiss. A greedy one, where he took every last bit of your air from your lungs like some depraved beast.

Yet the feeling… wasn’t totally unpleasant.

In the middle of it all, you catch a raspy whisper, words spoken ever so softly, just for your ears alone.

“Happy Birthday, Cloche dear.”

Anyways happy birthday from the mage of misery🫶 wishing you a great one!!!!

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash]

UWAHHHHHH CERUUUUUUU WHAT IS THIS- CLOCHE SINGING ONLY FOR ROOK TO CONTINUE AT THE RIGHT TIME??? THE PECKS BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT?? AND THE FACT THAT THEY FINALLY KISS ON THE LIPS- I’M GONNA LOSE IT- Oof this feels like watching those really long TV shows and finally getting to watch the will-they-won’t-they couple finally get together 😭😭

Ig it’s canon now that Cloche has French nursery songs drilled into her head from Canadian elementary- they pop in there at the worst times (as someone who was once in a half French immersion school- the war flashbacks are real-) But in all seriousness I just love this detail??? I will never not be salty that we were robbed of Rook singing more

Ofc Rook goes out of his way to tail Cloche instead of going to the party like normal people 😩 What is so special that it just can’t be shown to others??? Show off PDA, cowardly huntsman- assert dominance like an alpha— 👁️👁️ /j

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write this!! This will now forever be my brainrot- Like holy— I can feel this in my soul, hear it, see it-

Schedule’s tight now but one day….

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Chapter Forty-Four

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier, @faceless-mirror & @comforting-madness

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: After some emotionally triggering moments between mates, Ricky and Justin talk of past concerning the former handler... Leading to intimate moments. Smut ahead.

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Bands Included: Motionless In White, Bad Omens, Bring Me The Horizon, Ice Nine Kills, Sleep Token (to be added as characters join, no spoilers)

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, kidnapping, suicidal ideation, torture, racism/speciesism, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @comforting-madness

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday @high-wire @awkwardalex @ofelia19

@retriibutions @mylittlehatefuck666 @daddy-sir @punkprincess1999 @31miw-inkpsycho

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Forty Four

Justin felt intensely guilty when he thought about the fact that the others were picking up the slack when it came to patrols. He hadn’t gone out nearly as much as he knew he should since he had discovered Ricky was pregnant with the twins. Part of him was waiting for Chris, or Ryan to approach him, give him a talking to about that, perhaps not like Jerahmiel used to, but remind him they all worked together… they never did. Then he remembered how others had been now, when their mates would be partners in the breeding program. It did not matter that the young that were to be born were biologically were not their own, the children were their mates.

Until now, Justin wasn’t aware if any gargoyle was actually looking forward to their mate carrying their child, it would have been forbidden by the edicts. It wasn’t how the breeding program worked. He knew Ryan and Gwynn could have gotten around it, but he’d not been alive, never gotten to meet Gwynn, didn’t know why they had never… he didn’t dare ask either of the pair now.

Despite his guilt, and waiting for the other foot to drop with a lecture that had yet to come, he couldn’t bring himself to be far from Ricky at the Church. It wasn’t even the added threat of Jerahmiel over their heads, that only made matters worse… 

He had been spending his mornings working on preparing the nursery alongside Chris, who had joined him after the lunch rush, getting it ready for the twins. They’d finished painting it, which was curious considering they didn’t know whether they were having boys, girls, and knowing their nature, could be either should they choose. Now, settling on colors, it was rainbows all over one of the walls, but in colorful splotches, not the typical arches, splotches only… Justin looked a bit of a mess, and he hoped Ricky wasn’t going to bite his head off… All he knew was whenever they mentioned rainbows, one of the babies went crazy and not in a good way, but they both loved the idea of a colorful nursery… so… he’d done this. Hopefully, when Ricky got home, he’d like it.

Ricky got home, waddling into the apartment with a smile, carrying multiple bags. “Hey, baby boy, I got something for you.” He called warmly as he pulled out the leather journal he had selected for Justin with the nice lock on the cover. After dispensing the gifts, he knew he needed to lay down. Hopefully, with Justin for a bit.

The thought of cuddling with him felt heavenly, and he beamed, holding the boxes with the chain and the one with the ring in his other hand.

Justin smiled as Ricky came in, cleaning his hands with a cloth, the room was still mostly empty, the furniture hadn’t been brought in as they were still painting the room. Sure it had all been put together, and was ready, it all had been sorted, Justin was excited… the room was ready to be put together almost. They were getting so close… It was both exciting, and scary. “You didn’t need to get me anything. Did you have a good time with Ryan?”

Chris looked up from the containers of paint he was sealing, thankfully the runes they’d used had allowed the paint on the walls to dry quickly, or Ricky walking in here, would have just bombarded him with fumes. None of them would have allowed that. It had been frustrating, watching all the workers around the Church, coming, and going, through the time they’d been tearing their home apart as Chris had once seen it, everything going so slow, when it was so different for them. They were used to having to do things on their own, and making sure they could live in different ways. Chris still hoped when Vinny and he had their own children, she didn’t have a problem with him making their cribs himself, just putting them together hadn’t been the same.

Ricky giggled and hugged Justin, “I know but… just think of it as silly… but… this is the big part,” he whispered and opened the box, showing him the ring. “And yes, I did have fun. This is a chain for you to put it on when you're on patrols.” he explained, offering him the other box. “I also got things for the others too but…”

Justin was curious what this big thing that Ricky had actually gotten was. Sure, it wasn’t really his thing today, they had been going out to some big book store thing, Justin had just known Ricky had been looking forward to going out, so he was happy he had enjoyed himself. What was more, it had given him time to work with Chris in the continued adjustments to the apartment, including painting the nursery. They had expanded the nursery much like they had the alcoves all through the upper levels of the Church, not that the humans had ever been able to get to them before the gargoyles had allowed Ricky and Vinny into their lives. Now the apartment was more than twice the size it had been before, and the nursery was a whole new room for the babies. 

Looking down to the box, with the ring, the chain, for when he was on patrols? Then Ricky was offering him the other box, and Justin looked towards him confused, “I’m, I don’t understand, I thought you went out for books, these, these are rings? What, what are these for?”

Chris looking over from across the room as he reached for one of the discarded clothes that they’d been using to clean up, he finished wiping his hands and said nothing. He saw the ring boxes, and smiling, oh, that was an interesting development, though, if he were to get a set for Vinny, he’d be partial to an actual ceremony, and he didn’t know how they could. It wasn’t like he had any legal documents for the humans, who would marry them… would it matter… then again, to them, it was only for god's benefit, not the humans. 

Ricky smiled, “I wanted to give you a reminder of what you’re fighting for. Our babies… our future and for humanity.” He breathed softly. “I got books too.” He admitted, “There was a store next to the bookstore.” He mused, slipping the ring onto his finger.

He moved and pulled out the journals, tossing a large, thick one to Chris, knowing he would see the lock and keys. 

Chris looked over at Ricky and wondered what he was doing, did he, he could have bought Justin anything as a memento, to be a reminder. Anything at all. He went with rings. Such a symbolic gesture in human society, culture, and when Justin realized what Ricky wasn’t telling him… By the angel… “Justin, rings are a mating symbol in human culture, Ricky is giving you a mating symbol, and he is just too chicken shit to tell you.” Justin had had his head messed with enough, Chris was not going to stand by and let Ricky beat around the bush. Symbol of what he was fighting for his ass… they were mates, if Ricky wanted to say husbands, than admit it.

As it was, when Ricky was just tossing him the journal, Chris caught it, seeing the lock, the keys, he huffed a little… “I’ve learned my lesson about keeping secrets, they are dangerous and hurt those I love, why would I need a book only to lock it?”

Justin blinked at the rings, first hearing Ricky, smiling slowly hearing about the idea of them being a reminder of what they were fighting for. Of their babies, why he would need a ring for that he didn’t know. He could feel them always, they were a part of him, in his very soul. Seeing the way Ricky slipped the ring onto his finger, it looked so good, but as he reached for the other ring box, that was when Chris spoke, and Justin looked over to his commander… What? Why wouldn’t Ricky just tell him they were for mating? Was it so bad for him to know… sure he wasn’t human… was it bad he wasn’t human, was there something that he should be doing because he wasn’t human… He felt stupid because he didn’t already know what the rings were supposed to mean… it was like… like… him all over again.

Swallowing, he opened the ring box slowly, trying not to shake as he looked at the ring… “It, it looks good.”

Ricky realized his mistake… trying to make it more casual than wedding rings- well that went out the window. And the look of defeat on Justin’s face, guilt ate at him. “I didn't… I wanted them to be more casual. I'm sorry I didn't…” he slumped before focusing on the journal. “...I wanted you to have a safe place to write your thoughts without anyone prying… I got one for everyone. I…” he sighed, swallowing.

Nothing was casual about mating though, not for Justin, and looking down at the ring in the box, it was beautiful, he just didn’t understand, he was confused now. Ricky had said this was the big part, but then said he wanted it to be casual? That didn’t make much sense at all to him. He did, however, understand Ricky’s desire for them to have something between them. Something to remind them. “Daddy, there, is nothing casual about these, nothing, the meaning behind them, our babies, fighting for the future of mankind? It means the world, they mean the world.”

Chris looked down at the book, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Ricky editing the information for Justin still, trying to make things easier for the gargoyle benefitted who? Nothing was casual about anything that was happening in their lives, and pretending that they weren’t going to be parents… They didn’t have to get married, they didn’t have to have a wedding, but he should have been honest about the rings. Humans were so strange about relationships sometimes, then again they didn’t have mates. 

Now, the journal… “My thoughts? Who would want to pry-” Chris cut himself off swallowing, oh, he knew off the top of his head people who would want to pry into other’s thoughts, but he doubted they’d need a book to do it… Usually, the only reason he’d ever written anything down was for patrols, and briefings if needed, but not usually. “I’ll consider it, not sure if it would have much purpose for my thoughts.”

Ricky looked up at Justin, he hadn't wanted Justin to think they had to be married… but why didn't the thought of being married… not scare him? Ricky used to be terrified of the concept… but when thinking of being married to Justin wasn't terrifying. It excited him. 

Ricky didn't know whom to talk to about this- this was… so much more, and his heart ached. He wasn't used to wanting to keep someone so close as he did Justin. He wanted him. But part of him was still so scared.

Maybe It was memories of how his father had treated marriage. Maybe since he now looked more like his father… what if he turned out to be like him…

But he looked at Chris, smiling softly, “use it for writing down all of gargoyle history. Maybe that’s a place to start?” He offered, trying not to let his voice shake, both from anxiety and the fact he had upset his mate, What if he hated him now?

Gargoyle History? Whoever would want to hear about such, horrifying atrocities… Angels had created them for such… Gwynn might be a shining beacon of an angel, but so few of others could be said of those that had created them, and it would bleed through of anything that he write of his kind's past. He would detest putting down that kind of sentiment, of what they had bred them for, how they had made them to be, instilled in them, onto paper… “I'm not sure, I, I could…” Chris sighed… “I’ll consider it, though… Thank you, Ricky. I should go, I’m going to check on Vinny.” Holding his book close, he slipped out the door, leaving the mates together.

Justin wasn’t thinking about marriage, marriage wasn’t a concept for him, at least not in the modern sense. Now, if they went back to the ages when it was more than legality. When it was about the Church, and not about assets, and divorce, and signing your names to paper. Too many people threw their ties away now, and it was horrifying just how easy it was to destroy their binds, and Justin couldn’t destroy his mating with Ricky, he never would.

What he was thinking about now, was the added stress his mate seemed to be under… “Ricky? You, why did you want to get us rings… really?”

Justin spoke. 

And the nephilim looked up at him. So many similarities between that young child who looked up at him as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world among the tatters of their home life. Except the fear. The fear wasn’t of the father waiting at home. It was fear of becoming him. Ricky hadn’t realized he had started crying when he opened his mouth to try to answer. “I-” one letter and his voice cracked sharply, and he shook like a leaf. 

No. Don’t look at me. I look like him. Stop.

Ricky stumbled back, and he looked at the cribs and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door, breaking down in tears. Don’t look at me, don’t look at me- I look like him, how can you not hate me?

The gargoyle’s suspicions that Ricky not telling him about the ring’s being a mating symbol might not have been as much an issue as Chris had thought, and more… something else. Justin had a horrible feeling something else was going on here and if he was honest, he had been growing worried about his mate over the weeks as they went by. Ricky had been doing so well; however, he had hoped, hoped that everything was going so well… He had been in such high spirits with Ryan when he left this morning that Justin had counted his blessings…

This afternoon, didn’t look to be going so well. 

As soon as the smaller man, well, smaller in the sense that he was shorter, Justin was not saying a damn thing to his size otherwise… he was beautiful and carrying their children… Well on his way to full term, well on his way, it wouldn’t be long now. He was not saying anything… Rushing after him to the bathroom door… he paused outside…

“Ricky, Rick, it’s okay, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, I love the rings, I do, I just… you can talk to me, about anything, you know that, right?”

Ricky was leaning in front of the mirror on the sink, knuckles white as he panted looking into the sink. He sobbed softly and looked up at himself, feeling sick all over again. He heard Justin and he sniffled, “Justin… I look like him! How can you even stand looking at me? I…” He choked for a moment on his tongue and moved, fumbling before pulling out scissors, looking in the mirror had become so difficult. Maybe this would help- 

Snip. Snip.

Snipsnipsnipsnipsnip.

It was shorter. Much shorter… maybe this would be easier. Dark and short hair. That… that was enough… maybe not… He trembled and couldn’t stop seeing his dad in the mirror. You’re not good enough, girl. He could hear his father in his head like a worm hatching. 

“You’re going to die, what are you trying for?”

Ricky could swear he could hear his father’s voice… Or was it his own? He didn’t know-

”You’re going to die, and you’re so fucking desperate to be remembered despite how forgettable you are-”

No…no. No! Justin wouldn’t forget him!

There was the sound of something breaking and Ricky felt… something. Pain in his hands and… warmth… rolling down his arms… but he was blinded by tears as he stumbled back, curling up in the bathtub sobbing. 

Maybe he was just like his dad… violent and horrible in every way.

Hearing Ricky from inside the bathroom, at first, it was clear he was talking to him, the way he was asking about looking like him, and Justin caught his breath. No, Justin didn’t care. He’d accepted that his mate was related to Jerahmiel, and the angel that Justin remembered and saw in his mind was not the one that had walked in here and tormented them. The one that he remembered was the blonde, twisted and cruel one… Gwynn was closer to him, and yet, Gwynn was nothing like Jerahmiel, they were kind. Not that Justin had gotten much time with them thus far.

“Da- Rick, Ricky, I love you, I don’t care what you look like.”

Then Justin heard the sound of metal, a click, snip, what was that… What was Ricky doing in there? “Ricky, Ricky, are you okay?”

That was when he heard his voice… change, as he kept talking… wait… what… what was he saying? 

“Ricky? Ricky, what is going on? Is someone else in there…” Turning his head, listening for heartbeats, no, no, there were no extra heartbeats, just Ricky’s, the babies, though the babies were going absolutely crazy, and Justin, oh Justin was worried with the sobbing, the stumbling. Fuck… was he smelling blood…

“Rick!”

The wood of the door was no match for the protective gargoyle as he smashed it open with the force of his shoulder, and he made for his mate curled up in the tub at the sight of him… “What, what are you doing?!”

Ricky sobbed hugging his knees, “I… I just didn't want to look like him-” he sobbed out after a moment, trembling. His hair was shorter, and he looked as if he was going insane on his own. “Baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He whispered, hugging himself and breathing hard.

He was coming out of his turmoil, seeing Justin, and he hesitantly reached for him, ignoring the shattered mirror on the floor.

Justin didn’t even blink at the sharp shards of mirror glass on the floor as he kneeled next to the tub by his mate. Lifting him up with ease, fingers brushing tears away from his cheeks, it was terrifying seeing his very pregnant mate in such a state, curled up. His knees folded up against him, as high as they could go against his rounded belly. The way he reached for him from being wrapped around his legs, Justin could see the bruised, bleeding knuckles where Ricky had punched the mirror… The mirror was nothing, nothing that couldn’t be replaced.

“Come here, I got you, I’ve got you.”

Just picking Ricky up out of the tub, away from the broken glass on the floor, Justin rose to his feet and walked him out of the bathroom and to their room.

Ricky leaned on him crying, “I'm sorry…” he whispered, still shaking like a leaf against him, swallowing tightly as he held onto him, “I'm sorry…” his voice was shaking bloody hands clinging to Justin. “I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't want you to forget me- I don't want-”

His sobs started up again, that look of hurt in Justin's eyes. It killed him. It killed him, and then the fact he knew Jerahmiel had made him feel-

He had done it without meaning to. 

The fact he looked like him.

Nothing was okay.

It killed Justin to hear Ricky talking like this as he sat on in their big rocking chair holding him. They’d moved it in here until the nursery was completed. As much as Chris had tried to insist they could make most of the furniture like this themselves; Justin was sure the elder gargoyle was still going to try to convince Vinny for their babies, Ricky had fallen in love with this chair. Justin had made sure they’d gotten it for him.

Holding Ricky, and just rocking them both in the chair, reaching up to brush his now short hair back, short, dark hair…

“You are not going to die, I won’t let you, we won’t let you… we’ve been preparing, we have so many plans… He isn’t going to get anywhere near you, you know that… We didn’t know he was coming before, we know now. The wards are Archangel strength thanks to Noah, we’ll know the moment he or that hell beast even gets close… and Daddy… Daddy… Me… Me, forget you? Never… Never!”

He looked up at Justin, blue eyes tinged red as he cuddled closer, hanging onto his words tightly as he was his shirt, “Baby…” he whispered, moving to hide into him. He was relaxing, “I'm scared I'll turn into him.” He whispered, “I hate looking like him. I don't want the blond either, though.”

“I thought I looked different enough…” He whispered and hid into his chest, He was happy for the large chair. Who knew it would end up getting so much use… maybe it would just stay in their room. Or they would get a second one. His wings shifted under his shirt, trying to wrap around himself, trying to be as small as he could. 

Justin just kept rocking him in his arms as he held him, he wasn’t worried about the chair, or worried about where it was going to go, certainly not the color of his mate's hair… “Oh, Ricky…” Justin brushed his finger through Ricky’s shorter hair gently, carefully, tenderly. “Nothing about how you look, makes you like him, nothing.”

Taking in a deep breath, “you know who reminds me of Jerahmiel when I look at them? Gwynn. They are nothing like him, either. The way they look, that is the Jerahmiel that affected me, you are not him, anymore than they are Ricky.” Brushing his hair back, Justin leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ricky’s temple.

He made a soft sweet noise pressing into him and sniffled softly grabbing at him more gently nuzzling him. “... I'm sorry…” he whispered again, hiding into his chest. His body slowly released the tension that was keeping him wound up.

“No, Daddy, it's okay, there is nothing to be sorry for, nothing.” Justin just held him. He knew everything about this was so hard. He remembered how Ricky had grown up, he knew the pain, the torment his father could inflict, even mentally, with nothing but words… just simple words… Justin knew… Possibly better than anyone in their troupe. The angel had never raised his hand to him to even punish him, he’d used words and allowed Justin to punish himself, Chris and Ryan over the years had allowed him to see that in turn. 

Ricky nodded slowly, “Can…” he stopped himself. He didn't want Justin to think he saw him as… a novelty. As much as he wanted to be wrapped in his wings and just feel smaller than he already did… he wanted that comfort of being safe… Justin, whether in human form or not, was his safety. His guardian. He just had never realized it before. But he cuddled him more, melting into his embrace, letting his thoughts and fears drift…

Large hands ran down the smaller man’s sides, curving around him, even as Justin could feel the way Ricky’s wings had wrapped around himself under his clothes… Justin wished he could bring his wings out, but with the chair, the room, his wings were too big, and it would only destroy half the new furniture in here, he knew that wouldn’t work. “Can, what, talk to me, I’m here, anything you need?”

“I want to be wrapped up in you. I don’t want to think.” he whispered, muffled by Justin’s chest softly, “I don’t want to think…” he whispered softer voice shaking slightly. Pressing closer, encouraged by his mate’s gentle touches. His body wanted nothing more than to hide and collapse. A nap. A nap. Much, much, much needed. Fuck, going for a walk right now. He wanted a nap with his mate. “ ‘m sorry…” he mumbled again.

Justin’s arms wrapped him just a little tighter around him as he felt Ricky shake with his words, sighing softly, “Then don’t think, you don’t need to, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.” Rocking him in his chair, humming softly hoping to lull him and get him to rest, he needed it, he needed all he could get. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’s alright Daddy, I’m here, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere… I love you…”

Ricky sighed softly, sore red puffy eyes fighting for a moment, but as Justin's arms held him tighter… he couldn't resist. His eyes fell shut and steadily fell asleep, crashing into dreamland still clinging to his mate. He ducked his head closer, cooing like the doves and pigeons that once kept the gargoyle company during the day. 

Feeling him drift off in his arms, the way he leaned against him, not only the way his breathing evened, but his heart calmed, and the babies soothed once more… Justin sighed. All of this, it was such, it was all so overwhelming, and that was for him, so he couldn’t even say what it was for Ricky. The gargoyle sat there for a few more moments, rocking his nephilim mate, soothing him, until he was well and truly sure he was asleep, before he risked moving him. Lifting his smaller body up in his arms, and carrying him over to their bed, so he could rest them down. He didn’t let him go, no, no he let Ricky stay curled around him as Justin laid with him.

Ricky wiggled adjusting himself in his sleep moving impossibly closer with a soft coo and hid his face more sighing out sweetly as his grip slowly relaxed as exhaustion was banished, and he sighed sweetly and oh so contently.

It was later when the nephilim stirred and blue eyes blinked open, sighing sweetly, breathing in the scent of his mate and hugged him gently, nuzzling his neck and shoulder for a moment, almost aggressive. “Mmmm, Justin…?” he whispered softly, looking up at him with a soft smile of delight.

Justin hadn’t slept, not deeply. His rest had been light, holding his mate carefully as he protectively circled Ricky in his arms and held him, until the other man was stirring and drawing Justin so easily from his dozing sleep. The smile was perfectly heartwarming the moment he saw it on his face, and had the gargoyle returning it without a second thought, “Hey, feel better?”

Ricky nodded tiredly, “I do.” he whispered, nuzzling his shoulder, rubbing his hands over his mate slowly. “Mine…” he murmured, tucking his head into his mate more, his tiny wings fluttering and stretched big as they could be. The noise of small feathers against his shirt made him jolt as a feather tickled his back.

“Ah! Itchy…!”

The gargoyle chuckled, the way his mate rubbed his hands over him, and then he saw the way Ricky’s shirt was moving behind his back in ripple. Hearing his murmuring of the itchiness just had him ducking his head to Ricky's shoulder… “Your shirts aren’t that mindful of those wings.”

Ricky whined softly, “there's feathers that are itchy…” he whispered, hiding his face. “I don't know what to do about my wings, sometimes They just… pop out.” His eyes fluttered softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Justin paused, he didn’t actually know much about angel wings, how different they were from gargoyle wings. He knew how to teach gargoyles to control their wings involved flying; however, he knew that likely was never going to be a possibility for Ricky, so he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. “How about, to start, we free them to give them a bit more room to move so they stop irritating your skin as much right now?”

Ricky whined but nodded, “Okay… but you need to take off my shirt.” he teased softly, petting his face gently as close as he could with the babies between them, his belly proudly peeking from under the shirt playfully.

Not the only one that whined then, he knew he would have to take off his shirt, that was the intention, but to do so, Justin also knew he’d have to move. Kissing him quickly, just a peck on Ricky’s lips, Justin shifted back slightly, his hands curving over his mate's firm swollen belly, smiling before carefully bringing his shirt up. He did his best, so his wings weren’t pulled, feathers were different from gargoyles wings, he knew that much.

Ricky sat up enough and moaned, his wings spread and whined some thin sheaths covering some new feathers and sighed, looking up at Justin with a soft smile. “Thanks…” he whispered, his face framed by the short black locks now, and he leaned in, face pressed to Justin’s chest lightly and lovingly.

Discarding Ricky’s shirt to the side, Justin was curious about the differences with some of his feathers as they were revealed, he wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe they should ask Gwynn, but Justin didn’t know… Shifting, he reached for his phone that he’d left on the bedside table, “some of your feathers are looking different, I might text Ryan and see if Gwynn can come and have a look later. That might be why they are itchy.”

Ricky nodded and sat back, belly on display, smiling softly, “Sounds like a plan. It might be a good plan… but…” he smiled, “Did you know the babies can hear now? Clearly. They should be able to hear clearly…” he whispered, putting a hand on his round belly, smiling at him. “After you text… do you want a moment to talk to them?” he asked softly, feeling much calmer and better than previously.

Justin quickly texted Ryan the moment Ricky agreed, hoping that Gwynn would know what was going on with Ricky’s rings. Now though, wait, he knew the babies could hear in the womb, but they could by now? Oh! Justin grinned so brightly as he set his phone aside, he could wait to see if Gwynn could help, shifting down, he wiggled down the bed until his head was closer to Ricky’s belly. “Yes, oh yes… We still haven’t thought of any names… you hear that, we have no idea what to call you, I know, I know, your Dad and I have been slack, but don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Pausing though, Justin’s hand rubbed on Ricky’s belly, as he talked to the babies thought he looked up to Ricky. “Is it wrong I would like to meet them first? We don’t, we can’t even know if they are boys, girls… they might not even know themselves.” Gargoyles could change after all if they chose, for all they knew, maybe so could tribrids… Who knows if Noah could change, they had never even asked him!

One of the babies wiggled happily, a little foot or hand pressing towards Justin’s voice curiously. “I don’t mind waiting one bit, meet them first… It’s fitting…” he sighed softly, smiling, seeing the other baby stretch too, unable to keep his smile from growing as he watched his belly move.

As the babies moved so exuberantly in Ricky’s belly, the nephilim laughed quietly, “They very much love their daddy.” He breathed out sweetly, “Look at that.” Ricky whispered, savoring the feeling of his mate’s hands on his belly.

Justin’s large hand continued to rub over Ricky’s curved belly as he felt the twins move, chuckling low at their intensity. Leaning in to press his cheek alongside his palm to his skin, still gauze longingly up to Ricky, “Both their daddies.”

Ricky smiled and stroked his fingers through his hair slowly and tenderly, eyes fluttering softly. “Justin…” he breathed softly, eyes tender as he looked him over lovingly.

Justin just laid there, looking up at Ricky, happy to have that moment, listening to the heartbeats of both their babies, his mate. Chuckling after a moment, “Your dad is getting mushy kids, watch out.”

Ricky laughed, “I can't help it. I just… hope I get to enjoy our family.” he murmured some of the dark thoughts peeking in for a moment like a nightmare during the day.

When Justin’s hand rubbed at his belly again, he frowned at the soft murmur, not sure at all what Ricky was meaning, why wouldn’t he get to enjoy their family… Of course, then he thought of what he’d said about chubby toes and baby giggles, and he smiled just a little ruefully, “Don’t worry, we’ll get at least some chubby toes, and baby giggles, I promise.”

Ricky smiled, trying not to laugh, “I was meaning… I hope I make it through the birth…. I've read so many stories.” he admitted. “It scared me when I was young… I suppose it still does. I'm going to have two battles in one day…my father and labor…”

Justin took in a deep breath, sitting up from leaning over Ricky, shifting closer to him to lift him up and place him back onto his lap as he settled against the pillows. “Okay, here is why that is the last thing you need to worry about. Gwynn has helped many gargoyles give birth to babies. Chris, Ryan, even I, have had a hand in the birth of gargoyle babies. I don’t know about Shade and Riyah’s experiences, but in our troupe, we never had the luxury of hospitals, or doctors, we looked after ourselves, we trained ourselves. In everything.”

Brushing the nephilim’s hair back gently with a sigh, “that isn’t even counting the fact that the vampires have both mentioned they have medical experience as well. No matter what time of night or day you go into labor, someone will be with you that will know exactly what to do. How to look after you.”

Ricky smiled softly and hugged him, settled on his lap, knowing that… it helped. A lot more than his mate knew… “Promise you’ll be there for the second twin… if you can.” He breathed. “I want you there.”

While he didn’t know what was going to happen, if Justin had his way, he was going to be there for the birth of both of their babies, both of them. “I will be there for both of them if I can, I will do everything remotely possible to be by your side.”

Ricky smiled softly, leaning into him more, “I need you. And I want you beside me.” He admitted, “I don't want to give birth without you right there… I love you.” He breathed softly. 

Justin wrapped his arm tightly around Ricky, he wanted to be able to promise he’d be there no matter what, he wanted to so badly, but knowing that Jerahmiel’s potential arrival was an unknown entity. All he could do was promise that he would do his do everything possible to be there. “I love you too, all three of you.”

“I love you, Justin.” he whispered, cuddling more into him, feeling much calmer and settled, face pressed to his shoulder. “I love you…”

Ryan had gotten the text from Justin, Ricky’s feathers were weird? That could mean anything, he didn’t elaborate on that at all, Gwynn was supposed to be resting… Sighing, he was tempted to wait, tempted to just tell Justin that he could wait for another day, however, from things that had been said, he knew that Ricky had yet to come to Gwynn for anything angel related. Noah, yes, surprisingly enough considering how that first meeting between the young tribrid had gone, and how aggressively anti-angel he had, and sometimes Ryan wasn’t so sure he didn’t seem to still feel. Maybe that was Ryan, he hated angels, most angels, very few escaped that feeling these days, very few.

In the last few days, he’d been staying in the alcove, the more time Gwynn had to heal, the better, and Ryan could sacrifice his time on his gaming unit if he had to. Now, now however, he moved towards where they were resting. “Gwynn, Gwynn, Justin texted me mentioning Ricky might want to talk to you about something happening about his wings?”

Gwynn lifted their head yawning, “Hmm…? Ricky…? Oh!” they said, getting up quickly, leaning on their cane, “Lead the way.” they mused, smiling at him with a warm bubbly look in their eyes, excitement on their face, gentle and loving as ever. “Did… you have a good time out with Ricky, by the way?”

Nodding at the question, Ryan thought back to the day to the book store the day before, well, that morning to those that lived by the day. Gargoyles lived to all hours, and it was well into the night, and Ryan had taken some downtime since his trip out. All in all, he felt it had gone quite well, the box with the rings, however, was down in the rectory, out of the way. “I think it went well, productive. Picked up some interesting books, both educational and just for fun.” Already he had been trying to read through the book on how he could try to help Gwynn. Walking with them towards the door, slower, as quick as Gwynn was moving, glad they were healing, he didn’t want to rush too fast.

Gwynn smiled and gently held his arm lightly, “I’m happy to hear that. My next goal will be getting electricity in here for you… in case you ever want to move back up here with me… permanently. I don’t want to rush you… I just miss our home.” they murmured, “It’s always felt… safe and comforting to be in…. It’s only complete with you here.”

Ryan had read enough of the book to know it was important to make his partner feel secure on their healing journey, which was part of the reason he had been spending so much time in the alcove. He’d barely been down in the rectory in a while now for a reason after all, the thought of moving up here permanently. Glancing to Gwynn… He… Ryan’s heart clenched hearing that, safe… He still thought they deserved better than him, so much better… after what he had done to them… how he had just… “Maybe, we could bring my things up from the rectory, and see how we go?”

Gwynn’s eyes widened and the smile that covered their face, the joy and excitement in their eyes- it was infectious and hopeful. “I would love that… so much, my darling.” They whispered and leaned up, kissing his shoulder lightly as they leaned on him as they made their way down the stairs. “I… would very much love that.” 

As Ryan felt them kiss at his shoulder, he swallowed, heavily, tilting his head to the side, just enough to hide the way his eyes waters, if only for a moment as they walk along the path down the stairs. He said nothing as they made their way down to the apartment that they were all renovating not only for both couples, but for the arrival of the twin's birth, and the hope of more children. The gargoyle had himself together, by the time they reached the door to the apartment, letting them both in.

The angel was quiet the rest of the way and smiled, seeing the now familiar apartment, “Ryan?” They asked softly, “I'm happy you're in my life.” They murmured, hearing a soft giggle from Ricky in the next room. “I just want you to know that.”

He didn’t know how they could be, after how he treated them, after how he’d forgotten them? How could anyone just forgive someone who had forgotten the entire face when they claimed to love them for over a thousand years? Let alone when they came back, everything he’d done while they were gone… Still, taking in a shaky breath, Ryan reached for Gwynn’s hand gently and, just, squeezed their fingers lightly. Words were stuck in his throat, he knew he wouldn’t survive without Gwynn, they were everything to him, but he didn’t, he didn’t know how to say it, not anymore, not yet. “Let’s check in on Ricky and Justin.”

The angel smiled understanding without words and leaned up to kiss his cheek softly, “Sounds like a good idea,” they whispered to him before walking ahead, knocking on the bedroom door before opening it when Ricky answered.

Seeing the nephilim snuggled into his mate, little wings spread out. “Oh dear- you're molting. It happens. Nothing to fret over.” The elder chuckled, moving closer, “Do you mind if I show you how to fix it? Or Ryan can if you're more comfortable with his help.” They offered.

Ricky looked between them quietly for a moment. “Um… I don't… know.” He answered honestly. “Uh…”

Gwynn smiled in understanding. “Ryan? Do you remember how to preen?” He asked, looking at his own mate tenderly. 

Justin looked up from his arms wrapped around Ricky, he’d known the moment Ryan and Gwynn had entered the apartment, however not wanting to move Ricky after his confession, he waited until they came to them. When the door opened, he looked over at Ricky’s wings, and immediately, Gwynn, knew exactly what they were looking at. Molting? Justin glanced towards Ryan when he was mentioned.

Ryan had seen it too, though, Ricky was in desperate need of preening, though, the state of Ricky’s feathers were a little different from the manner of which Gwynn’s could get when theirs were in need of preening. It made him curious as to why. Though, when he realized they were asking him, “Oh, yeah, I remember… its, been awhile, I ah,” glancing at Gwynn, there was a fondness there, as if he could forget. Preening was always something so, personal between them, especially because Gwynn’s wings could be so, sensitive at times. It was something he could gladly say he had never done for Jerahmiel. “Gwynn, why, do some of Ricky’s feathers look… different?”

“He's losing his baby feathers. His adult feathers are coming in.” They explained gently and smoothed their hair back, tying it up, “So the feathers underneath, the soft downy level… are pushing through and let's fix it for you.” Gwynn said softly as Ricky nodded, showing them his small wings.

“Okay. I'm ready, I think.”

Ryan hummed, that was interesting, it also had implications when it came to Noah’s wings. The man was four hundred years old, what-the-hell kind of feather had he shown Gwynn, they certainly didn’t look downy, they looked adult… had he just skipped the awkward grown out stage? Or was that boy, when he was finally able to bring those suckers out, about to go through one interesting, massive molting phase… damn… he was not going to know what hit him. “Usually preening is rather intimate, I’ve only ever done it for Gwynn before, Justin, come around here, watch, you’ll want to help him in future.” 

They didn’t always preen just because of molting, sometimes, it just felt nice, and it was a perfect feeling of self-care for their wings.

Ricky got off Justin's lap to let him see and spread his little wings for them, blushing softly. “It won't hurt?”

Gwynn's cheeks turned pink. “No. Quite the opposite. If you need some more privacy, I can leave. I don't want to overstep.” They assured gently, an understanding smile on their lips.

Ryan shifted closer to the mated pair as he sat down, but not yet reaching for Ricky’s wings when Gwynn asked about needing privacy. He might be helping with the preening here, but he wasn’t about the answer for Ricky. It was his body, his privacy, what’s more, he’d never been through this before, Ryan didn’t even know how he was going to react to this… Now, he could guess from how much Gwynn enjoyed their wings preened, but everyone enjoyed things differently. It was like, pain, there were times… there were times that he needed it now, and he was sure other people wouldn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to talk about that. Everyone was different.

Ricky blushing, he shivered gently, “um… if you could leave if I moan… I'd appreciate that- I get overexcited easy-” he whispered.

“Of course.” They assured, biting back the comment about his father being similar… They needed to talk to the gargoyles later about who Jerahmiel had loved… They needed to know. But they didn't want to broach that right now.

As Ricky had shifted from him, Justin had adjusted his position on the bed to make it more comfortable for Ricky to sit between both Ryan and himself, but also so he could see what Ryan was doing. Glancing towards Gwynn, he smiled, thankful that they had come down so willingly to help, “Thank you for this, Gwynn.” Even if Ryan was the one that was offering to show him how to help Ricky, Gwynn had been asked.

Ryan took in a breath, saying nothing to the mention of the possibility of moaning. “Justin, now, one way to is running your fingers through his feathers, gently, but move with the line of his feathers, not against, that will tug them out harshly… You only want the ones that are ready to come out naturally.” As he spoke, Ryan was showing the other just as he explained, practically stroking along Ricky’s wings, along his back.

Ricky’s breath hitched for a moment, trembling lightly for a moment- Gwynn couldn’t help but smile, nodding to Ryan, already making a line for the door. They knew it wouldn’t be long before Ricky was keening for the pair. Silent permission to help however they could. They opened the door with less than a creak- and shut with a barely audible thump to anyone other than the gargoyles.

The nephilim, just as the door shut- let out a tender moan at the strokes of his fingers. His head fell back, letting his now short hair be on display to Ryan clearly, and his wings flexed gently.

As much as Ryan hoped that Gwynn wouldn’t leave, he knew with Ricky’s request, that the odds that he wouldn’t moan soon, was unlikely, so seeing them even prepare, left a twinge. Then, the angel was slipping out the door, without more than a word, Ryan watched them go, that smile, Ryan nodded back to them, sighing as the door thumped softly behind them. Turning his attention back to Ricky just as his head tilted back, the newly short hair made him wonder what brought about the change, he couldn’t say he hated it. Now, however, was not the time to ask, as Ricky moaned.

“Justin, come closer, here, join me in stroking his feathers.” Ryan gently had Ricky facing Justin, only to reach for the other gargoyle’s hands and placed them into Ricky’s wings and stroked them through the soft feathers. “See how some of his downy baby feathers are naturally coming out., and his adult feathers are adjusting in place?” Ryan’s fingers scratched gently down Ricky’s back as he guided Justin’s hands.

Justin leaned into Ricky’s front, his wings were tantalizing to him too, and to hear him moan just from the way Ryan had run his fingers through them, oh it was delicious. It reminded him of the night they’d been together, with Ricky riding him, hands brushing through his wings, it had been glorious… His feathers were so soft, feeling them now, he could tell the difference between his feathers. The adult feathers, while they were just as soft, they were pristine, defined, larger, even if you could tell his wings were still small. 

“Justin- Ry-Ryan- oh fuck-” Ricky whimpered, rolling his hips slowly, groaning softly. Glancing to check that Gwynn was gone before folding quickly rolling his hips without thinking, hiding his face. “Oh fuck-”

Outside, all Gwynn could do was listen.

The way Ricky was positioned between them, Ryan could feel all too well from behind him the way the nephilim’s hips were rolling, they were so close together on the bed. “Keep going, and help him, Justin.” Ryan was happy to continue preening his feathers, pressing a kiss to Ricky’s shoulder as he ran his fingers through his wings again.

Justin glanced over Ricky’s shoulder to Ryan as he felt Ricky rock against him again, moaning as he stroked through Ricky’s wings to the side at the edges to the tips of them. “We’ve got you, Daddy.” As his hands came down to the small of Ricky’s back, he let his hands slip around to the front of his pants and start to undo them.

Ricky gasped and moaned, hips rocking smoothly against his hips slowly, and he shivered. “Justin- Ry…Ryan…” he whispered, his wings fluffing up eagerly displaying themselves for him as his jaw went slack. “Oh fuck-” he breathed, grinding into Justin's hand helplessly for a moment. Even at the faintest touch, and his wings twitched eagerly as he trembled.

With Ricky’s belly so prominent, Justin was so careful helping him get his pants off, most of his clothes were relaxed lately anyway. Dressing for comfort was more important now than trying to pull on his jeans, much to Ricky’s frustrations. There had been a morning that had not gone down well, despite Justin trying to help.

Ryan watched as Justin stripped next, stroking through Ricky’s wing’s again as he sat behind him, “He looks, so good doesn’t he, Rick? You are lucky.” Scratching slowly down his spine to gently detach more of the downy feathers as they came away.

He gasped softly as his eyes fluttered as his wings spread to their biggest as he shivered, “Yes-” he moaned, helping Justin with his pants as much as he could, trembling softly. “Ryan- Jus-” he whispered before kissing Justin’s shoulder, burying himself into him as Ryan preened him, feeling so vulnerable in the moment. As his lips parted into a soft expression looking up at Justin.

Sliding back to sit back against the pillows as Ryan was continuing to preen him, watching them both, enjoying the blissed-out expression on his mate’s face as he reached to gently pull Ricky onto his lap. Ryan shuffling closer along with the shift as they position shifted, “You want to ride me Daddy? Feel stuffed so full…”

He nodded eagerly, eyes wide, “Please?” He paused and looked up at Ryan, “Can… can I?” he asked softly for permission, licking his lips, “Please…” he whispered gently, eyes glassy and full of desire and want. Longing and confusion. He had dropped into a much more submissive headspace.

Ryan felt a twinge seeing the way Ricky submitted to him, brushing his fingers down his back, in the thick of his feather, seeing the glaze of his eyes, the pure desire, the lust… the adoration… Ryan was in a haze for a moment as his mind flickered back to a different being with their perfect pale skin, crystal perfect eyes… pale hair… he swallowed… breathing in deeply. Ricky is who was before him, and it would do him a disservice to not be here right then, he would find Gwynn after. Detangling a hand from his feathers, and reaching up and around to brush fingers along Ricky’s jaw, “go on Justin… fill him up, stuff him so full the babies won’t stop kicking.”

Justin knew better than to question whether it was safe for the babies. While he knew neither Ryan nor he had ever chosen to breed before, Ryan had avoided it, and Jerahmiel had never picked Justin for the breeding program, claimed he was scared, too weak to be worthy. Still, being around the others, he knew the physical limits, fucking, even this close to birth, was not dangerous, despite Ryan talking like that.

His fingers grasping Ricky’s hips, “Hold on to me. That’s it.” Lifting him enough, Justin slid him onto his cock slowly, filling him, inch by inch, knowing he’d feel it just as much as he’d feel the way Ryan’s fingers were brushing through his feather’s again.

Ricky moaned softly, wrapping around Justin and cuddled into him as he was filled, eyes fluttering as his lips parted, settling against him, just rocking his hips slowly back and forth. Steady with him, and feeling Ryan’s fingers, he couldn't help but melt faster, feeling heavenly.

Most of the downy feathers had fallen away now, but Ryan was just letting his fingers gently continue to massage through Ricky’s wings, knowing just how it felt for him, and remembering himself. Leaning into the smaller man’s back, the gargoyle couldn’t help thinking of Gwynn outside the door though, even if he was trying to be here, in the present, as he pressed his cheek to the back of Rick's shoulder.

Justin thrust up into his mate, long, slow, not wanting to rush the moment. He just wanted to let him feel the connection, not only the press of his cock, but the stroke of his wings. Leaning in, he brought his lips to Ricky’s to kiss him softly.

Ricky moaned softly, melting into him with a shiver, lips parted slightly and trembled, “Justin- Ryan- oh fuck- oh fuck-” he gasped, feeling Justin press perfectly into him, feeling him as his heat settled between the gargoyles easily.

Outside the angel was listening though, hearing Ryan’s name caught between moans… They couldn't help but miss their mate touching, holding, caressing them, making their heartache.

Ryan’s fingers stroked along Ricky’s wings, all that were left were the adult wings, none of the downy baby feathers were left. Even he had learned something today when it came to angel wings, he hadn’t been aware, then, many angels from heaven in Ryan’s era, were not born, but created. Pure angels were not encouraged to breed, and half angels, such as Ricky, were considered an abomination to the nature of heaven. At least, that was what the gargoyles were taught to believe. No longer did any of them have to follow those ways, so much had changed. 

Hearing Ricky moan, gasping out their names, Ryan moaned out low, thinking about feathers under his fingers. Looking down at his hands as he brushed through them, just straightening them out under his touch. Shifting against Ricky’s back as he thought of Gwynn, wishing they were here, he could be touching them too… As much as he struggled every day to believe he deserved to, he wanted to, he wanted to deserve the love they were giving him.

Justin panted against Ricky’s lips, before they had mated he had been so jealous of Ricky’s connection with Ryan, knowing how much Ryan always drew in angels. At least, that was how Justin saw it, and it was painful to him the thought that Ricky would favor Ryan over him, seeing the way Ricky would look at Ryan. How Ryan could give him something Justin never could… Now, though, the love that ran through him seeing his mate so happy, what else would he ever want for him?  “That’s it, Daddy, that’s it.” Justin rolled his hips with Ricky’s, it was a gentle movement, but keeping the momentum going, and him full, the sensation so intoxicating as he continued to fuck up into his mate.

The nephilim cried out, cumming hard without hesitation, holding onto Justin tightly as his moans were drawn out desperately, head falling back as he submitted so eagerly to him, jaw slack and eyes rolled back happily.

Gwynn waited on the sofa, hearing the sweet noises of the nephilim and desire for their own mate grew. They wanted Ryan. But… They needed to be patient.

As Ryan slowly finished stroking Ricky’s wings, watching as he trembled in the gargoyle’s arms, he could tell all the signs of how Justin chased his own release after him, moaning out as he came undone… “That’s it, good boys.”

His fingers smoothed Ricky’s wings over and settled them down after a moment. “Justin, make sure to go help your mate to get cleaned up, he’s going to need plenty of rest I think.” Climbing off the bed now, leaving the pair be as he let himself out of the bedroom, adjusting his clothes slightly as he did from his own situation. 

Ricky moaned a soft thank-you, settling into Justin’s arms, whining softly.

Gwynn stood as the door opened, “Ryan…? Can we talk? Please.” They offered gently as they reached for his hand, tangling their long slender fingers with his calloused ones, a timid storm behind their soft blue eyes.

Taking in a breath as Gwynn asked to talk, asking that, could not end well, now could it… Didn’t mortals have this thing about asking someone to talk in a relationship? Not to mention, that look in their eyes, he could see that tempest in them… Shit. Still, this was Gwynn, and he couldn’t deny them. “Of course, but not here.” When their hand took his, he led them out of the apartment.