#it's been this way for like six months to two years

[lawyer-in-law]

Wow. I didn't know so many people liked my rambling on a 7 year old post. I didn't know it had even been read by more than two people until it showed up on my own feed. So, thank you :)

If anybody is interested, there are some further thoughts I have to this:

While I do sincerely believe this behavior is part of his personality, I think it was heavily exacerbated by the multiple traumas he experienced stacked on top of each other. In a way, I think letting other people call the shots in terms of relationships is a coping mechanism.

It seems to me, as a child, Phoenix was not popular. I don't necessarily think he was disliked, but he didn't seem to have any friends. It wasn't until the class trial that he ironically got any. I'm not 100% knowledgeable on all the nuances and minutiae but from my amateur understanding, not even Larry was his friend until the class trial (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong).

So I'm imagining little Phoenix having a lot of stuff happen to him within a very short time frame all within a few months. Little Phoenix with no friends gets blamed for a theft he didn't commit and is ostracized by his whole class. The one person who stands up for him ends up becoming such an insanely close friend that Phoenix would quit art school to become a lawyer for him. Not six months into their friendship, close friend inexplicably disappears from his life without reason or explanation.

What must little Phoenix be thinking? What is going through his mind? Does he feel abandoned? Does he blame himself for any of it? I can't imagine him feeling blameless knowing the everything we know about him.

So. Trauma. And definitely abandonment issues. Throughout the rest of his adolescence, I assume he never had a friendship with anyone to the degree he had with Edgeworth. Yeah, Larry and everything but I don't think Phoenix would've gone to law school for him.

And then Dahlia comes along and breaks what's barely holding together to a degree where I'm honestly surprised Phoenix can still function as a human being.

Phoenix and Miles' childhood friendship was instantaneous. Miles defends Phoenix, bam, Miles and Phoenix best friends in true childhood fashion.

Then, like it's fate, some girl falls into his lap and suddenly it's an instantaneous connection. A false connection, but obviously Phoenix doesn't know that. So with Dahlia he thinks he finds what he's been missing for so long and becomes obsessed because it's a high he's been looking for since Miles left.

Then Dahlia goes and reveals how much she'd been manipulating Phoenix and suddenly he's back to when Miles left. Abandoned. Confused. Hurt. And not fully understanding any of it cause it's too painful and too cruel and hits too many triggers.

So I think there's honestly a bit of a split between Phoenix's acquiescence in terms of before and after. In both phases, yes. Phoenix still lets people determine the parameters of the relationship in the beginning but it's much more open and raw in a "heart upon your sleeve" kind of way in hopes of getting friends. And then he gets hurt too much in too cruel of ways that he lets people choose their relationship with him not out of a desire for friendship but from a desire not to get hurt. As a defense.

If he doesn't choose how these relationships with others go, then he can blame himself less when it goes south. And having other people make their own boundaries means that he never has to give up his own. He lets people become his friends or assistants or what have you without ever sacrificing his own vulnerability. He may let people define the relationship, but having a relationship doesn't mean you can get anything from him. He's still closed off, evasive, and sometimes down right mean if it'll keep people at a safe enough distance.

In regards to Narumitsu, I won't repeat myself, but I would like to add that in conjunction with all the other fucked up shit Phoenix has had to deal with in his life, admitting his feelings to Edgeworth (or himself let's be fucking honest here), is so far down his list of priorities. Cause not only does he have all that past trauma, but he also has to live forever with the aftermath of Edgeworth's "suicide" where he was abandoned again and I really think he walks on eggshells around Edgeworth for that reason, why he represses all his love and therefore won't confess to the feelings he's subsequently in denial of.

Phoenix is great. I love him. I love picking his traumatized, fictional little brain. And I love rambling about things I should probably let go of. But he's just. So. Interesting!

the best running theme of Phoenix Wright is that he 100% just rolls with whatever relationship other people decide to have with him. His only girlfriend basically just walked up to him and said “you. we’re dating now and you love me very much” and he was like “yeah okay, lemme know if you have a sweater I can wear to really drive the point home.” The Fey sisters basically grabbed him and said “I guess you’re our brother now” and he was like “yeah sure do you have any family drama I could get involved in?” Even Trucy just sorta told him “hey you’re my dad” and he was like “Mm. Guess I’d better get a job, huh.”

[quintessenceofdust88]

Priorities

(okay, so remember this ficlet? I finished it 🤭 and it's basically 1800 words of Tommy being me and saying everything I wish I could say to Eddie Diaz about the way he treats his supposed best friend. But since I'm a relentless optimist, I gave Eddie a slight redemption at the end. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for how much love you gave the first part! I hope this part lives up to your expectations ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. 

When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

"Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up."

Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. 

"Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..."

"Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him"

Eddie stares at Tommy, completely stunned and, if he’s being honest, not just a little offended. He and Buck have been best friends for years; who does Tommy think he is to chime in, especially after he broke Buck’s heart the way he did months ago? 

“Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” Eddie demands, trying to keep his voice low. “Buck is my best friend, everybody knows that.”

“You know what, Eddie? My bad, you are right.” Tommy says, but Eddie doesn’t feel relieved; he seems far from done. “Evan is your best friend; he supports your decisions, he’s always there for you, worrying about you and your kid, going above and beyond to make sure you’re okay.”

The words leaving Tommy’s mouth should have been positive, but for some reason, they’re bringing a deep blush to Eddie’s cheeks and a weird feeling to his stomach. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s feeling ashamed. 

“Okay, so what are you saying?” He asks, and Tommy stares at Eddie as if he’s being particularly stupid. 

“What I’m saying, Diaz, is that Evan is your best friend, but there’s no way you can claim to be his best friend. I’m not even sure you could claim to be his friend.”

“That’s not fair”, Eddie hisses in response, but that inconvenient blush is still stuck to his cheeks. 

“No, what’s not fair is making him keep your moving to Texas a secret, then treating him as expendable, then being mad when he finally snapped, and then just ‘forgiving’ him for something you should be apologizing for when he once more proved himself useful to you by taking your house”

Eddie stares at Tommy, mouth agape. That’s certainly not how he remembers things happening. 

“I… I was doing what was best for Chris. He… He didn’t have the right to make it about himself” Eddie says, but it now sounds weak even to his ears.

“Oh no, Eddie, as far as you’re concerned, Evan never has the right to make anything about himself. It’s all you, isn’t it? He babysits your son. You two talk about your plans, your feelings, your problems. Did you ever even have a conversation with him about our break-up? Did you even once ask him how he was handling it, if he was suffering?”

Eddie tries to remember those few weeks between their break-up and his moving, and he’s ashamed  when he realizes that he doesn’t remember asking Buck how he felt. All he remembers is the incessant baking.

“I…”

“Don’t bother”, Tommy says, raising a hand. “I know you didn’t. Because you, and everyone else, want Evan to always be happy and ready to help you with your problems. And when he dares to ask for help with his own things, of letting his insecurities be known, you accuse him of making everything about him. Of being exhausting.”

The word hits hard for Eddie, and he remembers a fight from so many years ago. He frowns, looking at Tommy, whose expression is harsh, his arms crossed, not a single line of the softness Eddie is used to from him. This is Tommy in protective mode, but Eddie had never expected it to be aimed at himself. It’s not fun, to say the least. 

“Did… Did he tell you about that?” He asks, and guilt is pooling up in his chest. 

“He wasn’t going to; I got it out of him when he asked me if I had left because he was exhausting,” Tommy says, and Eddie can see some of his guilt mirrored in Tommy’s eyes before he closes them and takes a deep sigh. “Look, I wasn’t perfect with him either, but you, Eddie? You were supposed to be his best friend”

“Tommy, I… I never realized…”

“No. And you never would, because he’s so used to this treatment that he’d never say anything. It’s the normal between the two of you. Except there’s nothing normal about it” Tommy laughs a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “God, Eddie, when he told me how he had ended up living at your place… The way he told it. Putting himself down, saying you were right on calling him out for ‘making everything about me, like I always do’. Like he had been a tantrum-throwing child, like you had been so good for forgiving him after he solved a problem of yours for the millionth time. You could barely say thank you. I asked, and he said you ‘shouldn’t have to thank him anyway, cause that’s what friends do’. That’s the man you like to call selfish.”

Eddie’s heart feels frozen in his chest. He wants to fight back, and wants to give Tommy examples of times he was there for Buck as well, but, to his immense despair, he’s coming up short. He’s about to mention putting Buck on his will, but he can see Tommy saying that was more for his benefit than Buck’s, and he’d be right. Eddie also thinks of telling him about how he handled Buck’s coming out, but… Is that something he should be that proud of? It was basic human decency, nothing else. 

When was the last time their friendship was about what Buck needed? Eddie can’t remember, if there ever was one in the first place. 

As guilt and shame take over him, he runs a hand through his face, and looks back at Tommy. In a way, he’s grateful; grateful that Buck found someone who’s that willing to defend him, but it makes Eddie feel awful that he’s the one who Buck needs to be defended from. And the worst part is that he knows, absolutely knows for a fact, that Buck hasn’t asked Tommy to say any of that. 

“I… I made him feel less than, didn’t I? When… When I left like that” He says, and Tommy nods, his expression finally softening a bit. 

“Look, he gets it. I get it. Chris is your priority. But Evan is mine, and him taking me back was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m sorry, Eddie, but I won’t let him be treated like that anymore. Not by you, not by anyone. He deserves better.”

Eddie finds himself nodding numbly. Tommy is right; Buck deserves better. From the 118, from his parents, but from him. Eddie has to step up. 

“He does. I… I’m sorry” He says pathetically, and Tommy only shrugs. 

“Don’t tell that to me, tell it to him. But let me tell you that it won’t make much of a difference. He doesn’t think you have anything to be sorry for.” Tommy says, and the worst part is that Eddie knows it’s true, which makes him feel even guiltier. “So instead of being sorry, do better”

He doesn’t have much time to mull on Tommy’s words before Buck is back, announcing the nachos are finally ready and that he had to re-do the guacamole three times before it was perfect.

And as he drops the bowls on the coffee center table, then gives Tommy a quick peck, Eddie looks at them. The way Tommy instantly smiled when Buck entered the room, as if the tension is out of him now that he told Eddie what was on his mind; the way he wraps his arm around Buck’s waist and Buck leans against his shoulder. The way he intently listens to Buck explaining what exactly went wrong with the first two guacamole batches, the way he praises Buck for finally getting it right. 

Eddie sighs and does his best to join their conversation as if nothing has happened. Watching the two of them, the way Buck smiles so easily, his eyes never leaving Tommy, and how content his best friend looks, how sure of himself, Eddie realizes that yes, he has to do better by Buck, because they’ve been friends for years and he hasn’t been very good at it. But one thing he knows for sure: Buck is not alone. 

He is finally someone’s priority. 

Ppl who were interested/asked to be tagged: @azaharinflames @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @iredastead @exhaustedpirate @dum-amo-vivo9 @neverstopschanging @walkedthroughfires @aar-journey @justahumblecabbagemerchant @styxhuntress @sgprfan

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Serenity

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!doctor!reader

Summary: Robby has had a really shitty day, maybe he just needs his girlfriend to comfort him

Follows the pacing of the show so minor spoilers if you’re still not caught up

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral (fem receiving), he talks her through it (yes he does and yall can’t tell me otherwise), age gap (reader is 35 and Robby is 50) (ik he’s probably Noah’s age but just bare with me here), established relationship, just vanilla sex really

WC: 6.3k no I’m not sorry

A/N: bahahah nobody look at meeeee. I think I outdid myself with this, I’m never beating the daddy issues allegations. This man just makes me so feral I couldn’t help myself. I’m hoping some of yall have been down bad too otherwise just ignore me (if this flops I’ll cry). Also tagging my bestie bc she has experienced my madness in real time🩷 @wittyjasontodd

You knew today would be an absolutely abhorrent day. You could feel it, the second that dumb clock hit six a.m, you knew. You knew it when you texted him if he wanted to eat dinner at your place after your shift, and he told you that he didn’t know when exactly he would get off his. He was working today and that made you sick to your stomach, a deep sense of anxiety and worry settling in. And you couldn’t shake that feeling all fucking day. 

You didn’t want to worry about him, coddle him and suffocate him like he was a teenager, he surpassed you by quite a few years for you to be doing that. Still, you couldn’t not worry about him down there. His day was normally absolutely draining as it was, but having to deal with that today out of all days, it concerned you just how well he could compartmentalize his own issues and the issues of dozens and dozens of other people. 

You were tempted to come downstairs yourself and check in on him under the excuse of bringing him coffee and something to eat. But then that would be weird. Then people would know. Well, you had a suspicion people did know by now, it was a bit hard to hide a relationship after two years. Though it was a bit easier considering you were all the way up in the pediatrics ICU and not in the Pitt. Still, you definitely noticed the knowing glances of Perla and Princess whenever you came down for a consultation or if they saw you sneak into the doctor’s lounge.

Dana knew, though you never told her. You didn’t think Robby told her either. You thought it took her maybe a month to figure it out. You prided yourself on how discrete you were about it, and still are. You walk together whenever your shifts align, hands locked and headphones in as you both enjoyed the short time you had in each other's calming presence before you didn’t see each other for twelve-plus hours. And then you went your separate ways, a quick kiss and a hushed ‘love you’ before going through completely different entrances to be extra cautious. You have been doing this since day-one. How Dana figured it out was beyond your extensive knowledge. 

You both would like to think other than Dana’s superhuman ability to read people, you had managed to keep things private. It was better that way, doctors were such odd creatures, you almost positively knew that ‘favoritism’ would end up circulating around sooner or later, since, once upon a time where you were a bright-eyed and still a had will to live first-year resident, Robby was your attending. Albeit he was married at the time and you were engaged, you knew someone would find a way to turn it into something it wasn’t. 

Today, however, you weren’t quite such how reserved you could be when you knew he was struggling. 

You sat on your desk, a long exhale of exhaustion leaving your lips as you ran your hands over your face, enjoying the few minutes of peace and quiet you had managed to find. And then you heard a ping. You sat up, eyes shooting open as you reached for your phone with annoyance. You thought it was the hospital, but when you unlocked your phone you saw it was a message from Dana.

Well, fuck. 

Dana: can you check on Robby? The overdose kid is hitting him pretty hard 

A long sigh left your lips as you read over the message, heaviness settling in your chest. You had been keeping up with it since earlier this morning, you had hoped maybe the kid would respond to treatment. You guessed things hadn’t been so easy down there. 

Me: you don’t think the kid is gonna make it?

Dana: Robby doesn’t think so. Come check on him please. He was gone for a while earlier

Another heavy sigh left your lips. Today was not the day for this. 

Me: he doesn’t like it when I make him talk about his feelings 

You weren’t entirely exaggerating. Robby wasn’t emotionally unavailable, the opposite, if anything, he was painfully aware of his feelings. He just didn’t like talking about them, especially when they were ER related. He would send you into a psych ward if he told you everything he experienced on a daily basis, he told you. And you respected it, your year in the Pitt definitely wasn’t the highlight of your life, and you admired him for choosing to stay there for so long. 

Dana: you’re not. You’re just being a supportive girlfriend. Come, now. 

You didn’t have to be in front of her to know she was being serious. You figured if you didn’t come down at some point she would physically come get you herself if that’s what it took. So best not to test the universe today. You had some time before your next appointment anyway. And Dana was right, you wanted him to know you were there, even if he didn’t always want it. 

It came as a shock to no one that you ultimately found your way downstairs. It was always loud on your floor, but nowhere near as bad as the pitt. You tried your best to not draw attention to yourself, though with everything going on down here and all the people that came and went, you figured you would blend in for the most part. You hoped to find Dana at her desk, preferably alone, as to avoid awkward small talk and questionable looks since nobody actually called you down here for any medical reasons. You internally thanked the universe when you spotted Dana on her computer. 

“Hey.” You spoke quietly, hands shoved into your pockets a bit sheepishly as you glanced around before looking back at her. She gave you a warm smile of gratitude and nodded at you. 

“Don’t make that face, it’s not that bad down here.” She teased, calling out your hypervigilant mannerisms and the uncomfortable look on your face. You didn’t mind being here, but only when you had a reason to be, you definitely didn’t want to have to explain you came down here to check in on your boyfriend. 

“I know.. But you know..” you gave her a look. But you didn’t have to say anything, she knew what you meant, she just liked teasing you about it. 

“South 16 is empty. I’ll tell him I need him for something. Just be quick, we might need the room.” She told you in a hush, resuming her typing away at her computer. You quietly nodded, briefly reaching to lightly squeeze her shoulder as a silent thank you. 

You waited a bit anxiously, shooting a glance at your watch. Shit, you had to be back upstairs in ten minutes to check up on a patient. But you didn't want to leave without at least making sure he was okay. Even if he was just going to brush you off and tell you that everything was fine, you at least wanted to see him. You waited another minute, and with a sigh you turned to pull the curtains out, but someone beat you to it. You jumped back a bit, eyes wide for a second before you realized. 

He wasn't quite looking at you, or maybe he just wasn't paying that much attention, he thought he was in the wrong room at first.

“Sorry—oh.” Robby glanced behind him for a second, bit confused as he closed the curtain behind him. You smiled lightly as he looked at you both with confusion and relief to see you. Now matter how hectic or chaotic his day had been, how many times he had to chase down his residents, or many patients were a pain in his ass, seeing you always brought him a sense of calmness. He was ashamed to admit he was completely infatuated with you. His racing mind ultimately landed back on you, and he realized; he didn't remember calling you down. Maybe one of the residents did? But they didn't check with him first. “Hey, what uh.. What are you doing down here?”

“Just wanted to check in, I heard you’ve had a rough day.” You said quietly, lightly nibbling on your bottom lip as you stepped closer to him. He looked down at you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips and his jaw clicked lightly as he reminded himself to curse Dana out later. He didn’t want you to worry. He said nothing, so you continued, “The college kid, you don’t think he's gonna make it?”

He tried to hold back another sigh, but he couldn't help it, he squeezed his eyes shut and scratched the back of his head with exasperation. He considered not going into details, giving you the same bullshit answer he gave the parents. He never wanted to burden you with his issues, with the baggage that came with the ER. He always wanted to keep out of the relationship, though he found that to be quite the challenge. When he opened his eyes again and found your pretty eyes looking back at him, with that warmth and kindness that made him want you in the first place. Maybe he should open up, to you at least.

“Uh, no. He’s braindead so there’s nothing we can do.” The words left him like a ton of bricks, heavy and sharp. Your face immediately fell and your lips parted open lightly. You tilted your head at him, but said nothing. He wasn’t quite looking at you as he continued, “I keep ordering all these tests for the parents, but I know. And I don’t know if giving them false hope will make things worse for them.”

You nodded softly and rested your hands on his chest, you felt him exhale unevenly. You gave him a warm smile as you lightly rubbed his chest.

“Maybe they just need more time to make peace with it. Maybe they just need to know you did everything you could to help their son.” You knew how he felt, there had been so many times where nothing you did was enough to help someone’s child, and you had to tell them that. But you knew he did his best, he always did. Though you weren't sure if he knew that. 

“Yeah.. yeah, maybe.” You felt him slightly tense under your touch and he avoided your eyes. He slightly angled his head to look behind him, like he was getting ready to sneak his way away from you and get lost in the chaos of the ER. you would let him, in a minute.

“Michael.” Your voice was a warning, quiet, stern. He snapped his head in your direction and looked at you with concern and confusion. You almost mever called him that. Only sometimes, when you were annoyed with him. With that scolding tone of yours. He didn't like it much.

“I don't like that. Why’d you do that?” He tilted his head at you, and you had to hold back a smile at the way he looked at you.

“‘Cause, you’re being difficult. There’s bad days and there’s worse days. Today is a shitty day, and that’s fine. You're doing your best, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” You sighed, running your fingers through his beard and he almost instantly leaned into your touch.

“How come you didn't go into psychiatry?” He commented and you snorted, leaning your forehead into his chest. You felt a slight chuckle rumble in his chest, and with that your deed was done for now.

“Well, I did a minor in psychology in undergrad, did I ever tell you that?” You leaned back, a small smile on your lips, and he had the little wrinkles around his eyes that you found to be so cute. 

“Once or twice.”

You shrugged playfully, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, but he turned his head and caught your lips instead. You were definitely okay with that. A groan of annoyance rumbled in your chest when you felt your phone buzz, alerting you that it was time for your next appointment. You pulled back, much to your dismay and took a glance at your phone, you were definitely going to be late.

“I mean it Robby, I’ll know.” You shot him a playful warning look and he nodded, a tiny grin pulling at the corner of his lips. You leaned up, actually leaving a kiss to his cheek this time. “Love you.”

“Love you too hun.” He called after you as you disappeared behind the curtain. A long sigh left his lips as he ran a hand over his face. If he wasn't the attending he would go after you and would purposely get locked inside an exam room with you for a little while. But alas. He waited a minute, making sure it didn’t look too suspicious before he came out too, back to the madness he went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was just the gift that kept on giving. You eventually came down for the walk of honor. You knew you wouldn’t really talk to Robby, but you wanted him to know you were there. You truly hated to see him like this. Hours on end only for the answer to have been what he knew from the beginning. It was hard to look at the brightside. And then you heard Dana got assaulted and you were absolutely freaking out. You hadn’t been able to come down until the end of your shift, when you were on your way to head home. Robby still had another hour left of his so you were just going to your apartment alone, he almost never got off on time, anyway.

You damn near ran off the elevator and a sense of relief washed over you when you saw Dana sitting at her desk. A long sigh left your lips as you approached her and you nearly gasped when you saw the bruising on her face. 

“Dana.” You said quietly, your eyes big. She shook her head at you dismissively, but it was hard not to worry. “They told me a patient hit you?”

“Yeah. Don't worry, I don't have any fractures, just a little sore.” She half smiled at you, but the look on your face never changed, you frowned even deeper.

“It's unbelievable. With all the patient satisfaction bullshit Gloria shoves down our throats you’d think they would invest a little more in making sure the staff is protected. Are you sure you’re okay? It bruised a lot.” You leaned down to inspect her closer and she rolled her eyes at you, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Yes I’m sure, Robby made me get a CT and made me take a break, I’m fine.” She waved you off and you nodded. 

“Oh, speaking of that pain in my ass, where is he? I’ve been texting him since the walk but I haven’t heard from him.” You frowned softly, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Dana gave you a look, one that you definitely did not like.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wait on him too much. Just go home, okay? While you still can.” Now that worried you even more. You knew today had been rough but you didn’t think it had been that bad. It took a lot for Robby to lose it, though you were unsure what exactly happened if that was the case. 

“Yeah, okay. I’m glad you’re okay. I was very worried.” You offered her a tiny smile, which she returned and you exchanged goodbyes for the night.

Dana’s words lingered in your mind, and you were definitely more concerned for Robby than you were earlier today. Usually he would text you back, even if it was an hour or two later, but it had been hours and nothing. With a sigh, you started to head for the exit, and as you walked you saw Robby walking out of one of the exam rooms. You debated whether to pretend you didn't see him and to just go home. But that really wasn't the type of person you were.

“Robby, hey.” You called out to him as quietly as you could as you walked up to him. He visibly tensed at the sight of you and he looked like a fucking mess. You narrowed your eyes, your lips pursing at him but you continued. “I uh.. I’m going home. I don’t know if.. If you wanted to come over when, well whenever you get out. I’m picking up food on the way so..”

He was silent for a while, too long for your liking and you were starting to feel a little tense as well. He clicked his tongue, scratching the back of his head like you had picked up he did when he was stressed. You probably should have listened to Dana.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what time I’m getting off, and truly I think maybe I should go to my place tonight.” He said with exasperation, his tone harsh and laced with tension. It almost took you aback how he was talking to you. 

You blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. It took you a couple seconds to process what he was saying. You counted to five in your head, took a deep breath in and just nodded. “Uhm, okay. Yeah, cool, I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went home.”

“Yes, yes I’m okay, why does everyone keep fucking asking me that.” He raised his voice before quickly realizing what he did and his lips fell in a flat line. You stared at him in shock, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It was almost like it dawned on him that you were the last person in this hospital he should be snapping at. And he did just that. He reached to grab your arm and you backed up.

“No, it’s fine. I got it. Sorry. I’m gonna go home now.” You forced a smile, you could tell Robby wanted to say something, he opened his mouth but you just shook your head at him. “It’s fine, you need space and I get that. Text me when you can talk to me like a fucking adult, yeah?”

You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, you were turning around and hurrying to the exit before he could get a word in. Was that the most mature response you could have given him? No, not really, but you didn't particularly enjoy being yelled at by your boyfriend in the middle of the ER. You knew something else must’ve happened to him, but you didn’t really want to find out when he was that upset. You hadn't seen Robby angry often, stressed? Sure, all the time. But he looked pissed and you didn’t like that whatsoever. He was always so calm, so patient and so collected, it was unsettling to see him so easily ticked off. You tried not to think about it too much, he knew where to find you if he wanted to talk, calmly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby couldn’t stop thinking about you for the rest of the night. He felt horrible for yelling at you, when his problems were not your fault and all you wanted to do was be the loving girlfriend that you were. He always loved how attentive and caring you were, when you asked him about his day and when you would listen so attentively to the little he would tell you. You were the last person on this earth he should’ve snapped at today, and now he had to go home feeling guilty when all he wanted was your comfort. He debated about just going to his place and calling you tomorrow, maybe he would get you some flowers to apologize. But then thought that would be too long. It was so late, he definitely didn’t get off when he was supposed to, but maybe you’d still be awake. You usually waited up for him anyway. 

Without much thought, he ended up at your apartment. He had a key to your place, he slept there most nights to be completely honest. He was rehearsing in his head the apology he would give you when the door got stuck. 

“What the fuck..” he muttered to himself as he tried to force the door open, thinking maybe it got caught on the rug or something. But no, he looked down to find that the latch was on. You put the latch on. He took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, trying to look into the apartment to see if he could see inside. This was definitely going to be his last straw. 

You weren’t asleep, it wasn’t quite midnight yet, but even if it was, you weren’t sure if you could get much sleep tonight. You heard the sound of your front door unlocking along with muffled shuffling. You sat up, confused. You suspiciously came out of your bedroom, only to find Robby’s awkwardly tall frame trying to reach inside to undo the latch. You almost wanted to laugh, you would have, if you hadn’t still been a bit upset from earlier. 

“Really?” You called out to him, arms crossed over your chest as you padded along the wooden floors, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet. Robby looked to find you, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of cozy pants. He always found it endearing how cozy and comfortable you looked outside of the hospital. 

“You put the latch on? Really?” He huffed quietly, annoyed that he got stuck outside your apartment, he definitely was not amused by you trying not to laugh. You shrugged.

“You said you weren’t coming over. I put the latch on when you’re not here.” You said like it was obvious, taking your sweet time in walking to the door. It served him right. He would’ve rolled his eyes if he didn’t know you were right. 

You stood for a few seconds and made direct eye contact with him as you shut the door in his face, just to make a point, before you unlatched the door and opened it. You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest again as he quietly stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him. He dropped his backpack like it had offended him, and he crowded your space. His nose brushed over yours, and you could hear his breath. You were holding yours.

“I’m sorry.” He offered so quietly, so much so that you wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn't been so close. You inhaled sharply, slightly nodding. You threw your arms over his shoulders and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Yeah? You forgive me?” 

You nodded again, as you leaned up to meet his lips. “Yes, now shut up.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, his large hand squeezed your waist as he leaned down to meet your eager mouth. He definitely said nothing after that. God, he had been wanting to do this all fucking day. It probably would have made his day a whole lot less shitty. But he was here now, and he had you all to himself.

You weren't sure when you ended up being carried to your bedroom, or when your back was laid flat on your soft covers. All you could focus on was his lips claiming yours, his lips trailing kisses all over your jaw, down to your neck, and anywhere he could find, really. He wasn't normally this messy, perhaps the stresses of today had finally worn on him.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he muttered against your skin as he half-assed shrugged his hoodie off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere he would be scrambling for in the morning. You hummed along, only half listening. “Let me make it up to you.”

Confused, you sat up on your elbows as he settled between your thighs. You watched him with big eyes and a heavy chest as he silently pulled your pj’s down your thighs. You held your breath as you instinctively closed your legs. He shot you a pointed look as he pried your thighs open, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he settled between them. You gasped softly at the delicious burn his beard left on your thighs. You loved that you could always feel the tingle of where his mouth had been, even the day after.

He took his time with you, he always did. You never understood how he could stay so calm, so patient. You had no patience, and you knew that he knew. Maybe he enjoyed seeing you desperate. His tongue lapped at your pussy with such calculated movements. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls with his tongue. You felt like such a whore for asking like this, but you couldn’t help it. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? You didn’t know. Robby raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up the slightest bit as he moved his tongue back to your clit and he slipped two fingers inside your cunt. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting.

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and sobbing, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. You chased his mouth, and he let you, always so amused by how quickly you would fall apart.

“That’s it, just breathe through it.” he hushed, his own breath heavy as he replaced his tongue with his thumb and he crooked his fingers just the right way, knowing each and every one of your tells, each twitch of your body, he had memorized all of it. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his fingers scissoring you wide open. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. He dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit Robby.” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. You ran your fingers along his face, threading through his beard and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind.

“You’re okay, just breathe for me.” He said against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face softly. You breathed out a laugh.

“You should yell at me more often,” you snorted, and Robby shot you a pointed look. “So you can make it up to me.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not done, so.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, leaving the lingering taste of yourself on your tongue before he flipped you over on your stomach. You bit your lip softly, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tossed it somewhere. You heard him shuffling behind you for a bit. You turned your head to look back at him, and with a smile he leaned over your back, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hmm hi.” you hummed softly as you braced yourself with your arms in front of you. He pressed his lips to the back of your head, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank into you. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. The side of your face was flat on the mattress when he sneaked his hand into your hair and held you there. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up.

“Thought about this all day baby. With the fucking day I’ve had.” His words left him with a groan, and he gave you a particularly sharp thrust that had you sliding up the mattress. “Just wanted this. You're the only thing that isn’t wrong in my life.” 

His raspy words in your ear made you moan, and you blindly reached behind you to touch him, any part of him. He leaned down, his chest flat against your back and his lips found yours, pulling you into a messy kiss. 

“Mhm, should’ve called me down for a quickie then.” You teased him and he chuckled, his cheek pressed against your jaw, the new angle making him sit so deep you could feel him in your fucking guts. God, you didn’t fucking care that he was so much older than you, the way he fucked you, so passionately and so gently at the same time, you didnt care for anyone younger. 

“I don't care for quickies.” he replied with an edge to his voice, despite the sass of your mouth, he could feel the way you squeezed the life out of him everytime he hit that perfect spot, getting you closer and closer to your release.

“You’re such an old man.” you managed to reply, but your witty remarks quickly left you when he slipped his free hand to find your swollen clit, which made you painfully aware of how close you were. But Robby could tell.

“Uh-huh, and this old man is gonna make you come,” There was a bit of amusement in his voice at the way your body twitched under him and the way your face twisted with pleasure. You were so close. “Yeah, thought so.” 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” you choked out, followed by a silent sob when he hit that one spot and you saw white. You were gasping for air as your whole body shuddered. Robby shushed you softly, slowly fucking you through your orgasm. He left wet kisses along your jaw as he whispered sweet words in your ear.

“Atta girl, you did so good.” He hummed as he left a kiss to the side of your head as you dropped your face flat on your blankets, your breath heavy as your body twitched in aftershock. You gasped softly when he slipped out of you, leaving you empty. You wanted to whine, but he gently grabbed your arm and flipped you on your back, and he settled between your legs with ease.

“Alright, lemme look at you. Just want to see how pretty you look.” He ran his fingers over your face, brushing your hair away from your forehead. It was always such a intoxicating feeling to have him on top of you, his pretty brown eyes watching your every move, his chain a reminder that you were about to get fucked (again). You fucking loved this feeling. You couldn’t even make a sound when he slid into you again, your eyes simply fluttering shut and your body twitching with pleasure.

“O-oh my god—!” The way you sounded so utterly fucked out, cock-drunk, it made him feel lightheaded as he fucked into you. He felt a little bad, with how exhausted you both always were, you never fucked this long, or so intensely. So he knew you were going to be so sore for your morning shift tomorrow. But fuck, with the way you squeezed your eyes shut, lips parted, he didn’t want to stop until you were both spent with exhaustion because you just felt so fucking tight and so goddamn heavenly.

“Mhmm I know, I know hun. Feels good hm?” He panted above you, his chain dangling above your face like a mockery of your current position with each thrust he gave you. You nodded harshly, a string of uh-uh-uh’s leaving your pathetic mouth as your nails dragged down his back.

“Feels so good baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, his voice shooting straight to your pulsing walls, making you whimper.

He gritted his teeth as he felt your walls squeeze the life out of him, a grunt leaving his chest as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand so tight as he pinned your hand above your head, and he planted his other arm beside your head, attempting to ground himself. 

“There you go sweetheart. That’s it.” His raspy voice grounded you as you spasmed around his cock for a second time. Your sounds were so pathetic, the way you sobbed his name was enough to make him completely lose the very little self-control he was holding on to. He fucked you through your orgasm, gave you two, three more sharp thrusts before he fell into his own release, a breathy fuck falling from his lips

Sounds of exhaustion filled the room, drowning out the still on TV you had in the background, your show being completely forgotten the second Robby was at your door. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin as he ran a hand through his hair. Your eyes were screwed shut, your forearm thrown over your face as your racing heart matched your shuddering breath. He sneaked under your arm and left a kiss to the side of your forehead. You giggled a bit and opened your eyes to find his soft brown eyes staring back, there was a smile there, too.

“You want pizza? I bought some earlier from the place you like.” You spoke eventually, your chest now rising and falling in a steady rhythm as you rested your head on Robby’s arm. He turned his head to look at you and smiled in that way that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a bit. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take some.” 

Much to the protest of your legs, you threw yourself on your feet, ignoring the way Robby was chuckling at your struggle. You managed to find a t-shirt, you didn’t know whose it was, probably Robby’s but it was yours now. After making a stop to the bathroom, you were in the kitchen for a bit. Getting fucked made you hungry, so you heated up some pizza for yourself. 

“Here’s your delivery, and I do require a tip.” You announced as you came back into your bedroom. Robby looked up from his phone, and he had managed to find his black framed glasses that you loved to tease him about. And a playful smirk formed on your lips. “I definitely want a tip.”

He looked at you confused for a few seconds then he realized and he blew out a laugh, shaking his head with disappointment. “You know, after a certain age one just gets really tired, can’t keep up with people your age. Not that I would know about that.” 

You snorted as you flopped down on your bed, handing him his pizza and a can of coke because that was all you had in your fridge. “It’s okay, you’re my favorite old man.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek, bumping his glasses with your nose. He gave you a look out of the corner of his eye that was anything but amused. Which made you laugh even more as you took a bite out of your pizza. 

“I hope I’m your only old man.” He chuckled, squinting his eyes the slightest bit as he typed a text on his phone. God he wished he could turn this fucking thing off. He couldn't even be out of the hospital for an hour before he got bombarded with messages. He caught the way you shot him a glare and he gave you a quick ‘sorry’ before he set his phone down. 

“I dunno, the chief of peds is quite the catch.” You couldn’t help but snort at the look he gave you, and you just shot him a smile. “Jokes. Totally joking babe.” 

You ate in silence for a while, you kew you had to be up again at six in the fucking morning, but you just wanted to enjoy having him all to yourself for just a little longer. There was still a lingering thought in your mind, you’ve had it all night. It never left your mind. Robby was watching whatever you decided to play on the TV when you turned to look at him.

“Robby,” you said softly, he hummed as he turned his head to look at you. “Do you want to talk about today? It's okay if you don’t… I just think you should talk to someone, and I want to listen.” 

You saw the hesitation in his warm eyes, the tension and dread from such a shitty day coming back to him. His lips fell in a flat line, and his jaw locked the slightest bit. You offered him a soft smile as you sat closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder with a soft shake of your head.

“Not tonight, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow.” He sighed out, leaning to leave a kiss to the side of your head. And you nodded with a reassuring smile. 

You didn’t know how he was prior to the pandemic, maybe he was worse, or maybe he had gotten better since. But you didn’t mind putting in a little work to break down his walls and help him open. You would do anything, and you were okay with waiting.

[absurdthirst]

Through the Highs & Lows {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of traumatic childbirth/medical issues, drug usage, depression, angst, OD, rehab, distrust, premature birth, c-section, stitches, freaking out, separation, reconciliation, wake up sex, protected sex, reaffirming words of love, healing

Comments: Frankie left you alone with a newborn, disappeared for weeks without knowing if he's dead or alive. Coming back home to find out you are pregnant again and unable to deal with the challenges of living with him. You have to leave him and unfortunately, Frankie spirals back into drug use. Until another wake up call is received and he has to see if he can make his way back to being a family with you and your children.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You bite your lip, staring out the window as the time ticks by. It’s been three weeks since Frankie left for South America. A trip that was only supposed to be a week long and a trip you told him to not go on. Your son is eight months old and he’s asleep in his crib, unaware that his father is missing. No calls. No texts. Nothing. You are terrified that this is the mission that killed him. You’ve been married to Frankie for six years. Together for seven. You’ve waited like this for more hours than you care to count. When he was deployed, when he’d go on missions and go dark, you would sit and worry for your husband. You decided to wait until after he left the army to try for a baby because you both agreed that he should only be a father when he’s going to be around full time and not off for months at a time. How ironic. He’s been missing for two weeks.

You had a bad birth when your son, Lucas, was born. You lost a lot of blood and the doctors weren’t sure if you’d make the night, leaving Frankie to hold his newborn son and that was traumatic. He turned to something that was offered to him by some asshole outside the hospital who was waiting for their loved one and that was it. He was addicted to coke. Headlights flash as a truck turns into your driveway and you scramble out the chair you’ve been sitting in, heart pounding and you fling the door open just as Frankie gets out of his truck.

Sighing, Frankie reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. The entire operation had been a complete shitshow and he had nothing to show for it except the original $17k Pope had paid him. Not worth it considering the fact they had lost Tom. Guilt settles in his stomach uneasily, making it roll. Benny was flying back tomorrow and Will was half a day behind him. Not wanting to make it obvious that they were traveling together. He had come home first so he could get back to you and the baby. When the door bursts open, he jumps, expecting you to be asleep but you’ve been waiting for him apparently. Making him even more guilty because of the fact he could have called at the airport and he didn’t. “Hey baby.” He manages a half hearted smile. 

You stare at him, wanting to pull him close and be thankful that he’s alive, but you’re so angry at him for going missing. For making you worry. Again. You step aside to let him come in and you make your way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea while he sets his stuff down. “I missed you.” He murmurs, reaching for your waist when he follows you into the kitchen and you freeze. “Don’t.” You murmur and he frowns, lowering his hands from you and taking a step back. You turn around to face him, your expression full of pain and you swallow harshly, wishing you had the cup of tea already made. “I’m sorry. I- I tried to call but I couldn’t get a signal and it was a shit show. I- I can’t believe that we were gone so long and I know you’ve been left alone with Lucas and I should’ve been here but I-” You cut him off from his rambling by saying “I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant. He freezes as he absorbs your words. He had gotten you pregnant again. It’s not like you had been trying again, you had made sure to get on birth control. Lucas’s birth had been traumatic for both of you and it was compounded by his fucking up with drugs. “Babe- I-“ he’s happy, he realizes. He’s fucking alive, his family is here and apparently you’re expanding your brood. “That’s great!” He gushes, moving to pull you into his arms.

You hold your hands up, not wanting him to touch you, and you see the immediate hurt on his face even as he lowers his arms. "Are you - are you not happy about it?" He asks tentatively and you inhale deeply, tears stinging in your eyes. "You have options if you want to...you know." He adds lamely, knowing it would hurt him but it's your choice. "No. I - I can't have this baby with you, Frankie. You are suspended from your license, we have no money coming in and I can only borrow from my mom so much before she starts to resent it. I can't sit here and wait for you to come home, wondering if this time is the mission you don't come home from. I told you I didn't want you going on anything else and you went...leaving me with Lucas for three weeks without even so much as a text to say you're alive. I can't sit by the phone and wonder if the call is to say you're dead. Either from coke or your need to chase danger. I've spent so long waiting for you to be safe and at home while you were deployed but I can't do it anymore." You choke on a sob as you look at him with tears in your eyes, "it's over. We are over."

It feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “Babe-“ he swallows harshly. “No, I’m - I’m back. I’m safe.” He adds, his face falling even more when he thinks about Tom. His body will be transported back in three days. “I know, I know I should have called you. I - I couldn’t-“ he chokes up. “Tom- he-“ he clears his throat and his eyes start to water. “Babe, he didn’t- please- he, uh-“

You stare at him, the way his hands shake, "Tom is - he's gone?" You ask and he nods, tears in his eyes that won't fall. Frankie never cries. You've never seen it. "I'm sorry." You whisper but this justifies your decision. "I can't be Molly. I can't wait to see if you come home and one day you don't. I can't do this anymore, Frank." You choke, hating how you want to pull him close and hug him, comfort him, but he will continue to destroy your family with his recklessness and you've stood by him for so long. Now, it's the last time.

“Baby, don’t do this.” Frankie begs, stepping towards you again and then remembering that you don’t want to be touched and he shuffles back again. “I’m done. This- this is it. I’m fucking done. I should have never fucking gone. You- you were right. I was just trying to make some money. I was trying to take care of you and Lucas.” His hands wrap around his body and he swallows harshly. “Just give me one more chance.” He whispers pathetically.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you fight your instinct to pull him close and comfort him. You shake your head, "I can't. I have to think about our children. I love you but I can't do this anymore." You choke and he leans against the kitchen counter, his chest heaving. You take the opportunity to make your way to Luca's room to wake him. You'd already packed your bags, stored them in your car in anticipation of Frankie returning home. There's some things you'll leave behind that you use every day and some clothes but it doesn't matter. Lucas cries as you wake him, lifting him out of his crib and into your arms, cooing at him to calm him down.

Frankie chokes out your name. “Please.” He pants, feeling like his heart is about to explode. You come back into the room and he wants to rush over and take Lucas from you, demanding you stay. He has done so many things, he killed to get back to you and when that fucking helicopter was going down, you and Lucas was all he thought of. “I can’t, Frankie.” You murmur and he closes his eyes, the pain etched on his face and he shuts down.

You hate how he looks so pained but you need to protect yourself, your son, and your unborn child. You sob as you walk towards the door, opening it without hassle as Frankie lingers behind you. You open your car and place Lucas in the car seat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you close the door and open the driver door. Frankie rushes out and stands in front of the car. “Frankie. Please. Let us go.” You beg, wanting him to know this hurts you too but you need to go.

He hates that he said yes, that he ever went on that goddamn trip. Now he’s losing everything. He shakes his head and knows that if you leave, you aren’t coming back. “Goddamnit, I-“ he chokes up and feels like he’s about to drown in his own thoughts. “Go.” He stumbles back and nearly falls to the porch steps.

You scramble to get into the car, tears streaming down your cheeks, and your heart is breaking but you can’t put you or your child at risk anymore. You start the engine and put the car in drive, looking at Frankie for a second as he stands defeated on the porch while you drive away from the home you made together.

He watches as your tail lights disappear around the corner and he chokes out a sob. Not even in the door good and his world has come crashing down for a second time in the past three weeks. He closes his eyes and pulls out his phone from his pocket. He’s lost everything, he might as well break another promise to you. He told you he would never touch the coke again, but you left him anyway, so what does it matter?

You arrive at your mom’s and she embraces you as soon as you arrive. You’d told her your plan and she’d supported you, didn’t think that Frankie was providing like a husband should, and she wanted the best for you and Lucas. You settle Lucas into the crib in the guest bedroom and your mom holds you as you cry for you and for Frankie. She was on the phone with you when you found out you were pregnant again and she promised you she’d be there no matter what. She holds you until you pass out from exhaustion, tears dry on your cheeks as you finally fall asleep.

****

Frankie wakes up, not sure what day it is and looks around the house. Hoping to find that he’s woken up from a nightmare. He hasn’t. The beer bottles and trash litter the coffee table and floor, he’s not sure when the last time he’s showered was and there’s a little baggie of white powder that’s laying on a picture. A picture of you and Lucas. He groans and reaches for it, wanting to forget again.

You are exhausted from caring for Lucas and being five months pregnant. You haven’t heard from Frankie for two months. You want to check on him but you can’t risk it. You can’t risk wanting to go back to him. Your mom has Lucas while you go out to get some things to get ready for the baby when your phone rings. You frown and answer the unknown number, “hello?” You say and the voice is official, “Mrs. Morales? This is Lakeland Hospital. Your husband is here. He - he suffered an OD and we need you here.” The store around you blurs as you barely hear what else is said as you drop the baby clothes and rush out the store, getting into the car to make your way over to the hospital. Your heart pounds as you drive until you’re walking into the hospital and giving Frankie’s name, “I’m his wife.”

The woman at reception checks the computer and frowns slightly. “He’s up on the third floor.” She tells you. “ICU.”

Your heart pounds as you rush through the hospital to the ICU and you place a mask over your face as you enter and you’re shown to Frankie’s room. When you walk in, a sob escapes your lips. He looks terrible. He looks like death. “Oh Frank.” You choke and reach for his hand, squeezing it and you sob when you see all the wires connected to him.

The doctor had been alerted that his patient had a visitor and he makes his way into the room. “Mrs. Morales?” He asks, watching the horror on your face as you look at your husband’s condition. When you look at him, he walks over to the bed and touches Frankie’s feet. “He’s going to be in here for at least twenty-four hours.” He explains. “When he coded, he exasperated into his lungs. It was a close call.”

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening as you look down at your husband who looks gaunt, beard grown in patchy, and his eyes sunken. He looks dead and it makes you hunch over him and cry. “I’m so sorry.” You choke, squeezing his hand again. “I’m sorry I left you like this.”

The doctor tries not to listen in, whatever issues you have are not his problems to solve. “He should wake up soon.” He reaches over and pats your shoulder. “Once he’s released, he’s going to have to go to rehab. It’s obvious he’s been trying to kill himself with drugs.”

Your heart breaks and the guilt threatens to overwhelm you. You left him in the middle of the night after he got back from a trip where his friend was killed. You should’ve stayed and talked to him but you desperately wanted to get away from him, from the mess that he’d created. Apparently he wanted to do the same and buried himself in drugs. “Frankie. Please wake up. I’m here.” You murmur, kissing the back of his hand after you pull your mask down. A chair is brought in for you and you have no idea how long you’re there, just staring at him, until the nurse reminds you to use the bathroom and have something to eat. “You’ve got a baby to think about too.” She says and you nod, caressing your bump as you reluctantly leave Frankie to take care of yourself.

When Frankie wakes up, he feels like shit. For a brief second, he wonders if the bird had gone down. He’s thinking that he’s still active duty, still in the Army and flying. Blinking and groaning, he hears the beeps of the machines and opens his eyes to see an empty chair beside his bed.

When you come back, Frankie’s room is a flurry of doctors and nurses and you panic, thinking something has happened to him. The nurse outside reassures you, “he’s just woken up. They are doing checks on him.” She informs you and you relax, tears stinging in your eyes when they leave, allowing you inside to see your husband. When you walk in, his eyes are heavy and his head lolled slightly, “Frankie, it’s me.” You murmur, reaching for his hand.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He groans. “The weight- it was too much. Told Tom we had a weight problem. Wouldn’t get over the mountain.” He squeezes your hand gently. “Gear box- fuck, tried to land. Thought of- of you and Lucas while I was crashing.” He looks over at you and through the pain and the haze of the medications his eyes widen. “I- baby- you’re pregnant!”

Your heart breaks at the hopeful look on his face and you can’t destroy him when he’s in a hospital bed. You nod, “yeah. Five months. It’s a girl.” You tell him and he grins, “a girl.” You squeeze his hand and he smiles, “I’m sorry I-” You shush him, “it’s okay. Just rest.”

He nods and closes his eyes. “Fucking tired, babe.” He admits quietly. “Had to give up the money. Over a million apiece, but we gave it all to Molly.” He chokes up. “Tom- he - he fucking killed those men, we killed them. And they killed him for it.”

You lean in to kiss the back of his hand, seeing the guilt in his expression. “It’s okay. Nothing you could’ve done. It’s not your fault.” You promise him, knowing that telling him what happened after will distress him and you want him to relax. He’s still your husband and you still love him.

“We - I should never have gone. I didn’t want to.” Frankie whispers. “But I wanted to take care of you and Lucas. I got greedy. We would have been set for life.” He squeezes your hand again. “Did I get shot? Is that why I’m in the hospital?”

You inhale deeply, trying to not let him see you cry, and you lean closer towards him. “You- you overdosed. You nearly died from an OD.” You inform him, watching as his eyes flutter until the words hit him.

He frowns, shaking his head. “No- no I wouldn’t do that. I promised you. I - babe, I told you I wouldn’t touch it again. I haven’t- there must be some- I didn’t touch it after you told me you’d leave me if I ever did it again.”

You have to tell him. You choke as you reach out to cup his hand, “you don’t remember?” You ask and he shakes his head. “I left you because - because I couldn’t do it anymore. I left you two months ago and you’ve been- you’ve been using.”

“Fuck.” Frankie closes his eyes and pulls his hand out of yours. The memories of him coming home and you leaving swamping him again and making him tremble slightly. His chin wobbles and he remembers being so happy for a split second when you told him you were pregnant only to have it ripped away. He swallows harshly. “Then why are you here?” He chokes out.

"They called me. I'm your emergency contact and still your wife." You remind him, "and I love you. I wouldn't be anywhere else." You assure him before you swallow harshly, "Frankie. Why - why did you do it?" You ask softly.

“Because I’m too much of a coward to put a gun in my mouth.” He admits quietly. “All the shit I’ve done, would do, to get home to you- I still fucking lost you and Lucas.” The haze of the meds are wearing off and he can think clearly. “What’s there to live for? Figured I could just forget until it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

That breaks you. You sob and lean in to kiss his hand over and over. "Never say that again. You have Lucas and I - I shouldn't have left you but I was hurting and you were gone. Frank - Frankie. Please. I- I don't want to lose you. I love you. I just want the man I married back." You plead, "I'm so sorry."

Your crying breaks his heart and he reaches out and pulls on the IV slightly as he cups your cheek. “Don’t-“ he rasps out. “I’m not- baby, you don’t deserve my shit. Just- just go and I’ll-“ he chokes up and swallows. “I love you, so fucking much. You nearly dying when our baby was born almost killed me. I don’t- I don’t know how to function without you.”

You turn your head to kiss his palm, “I need you to get better, Francisco. For our children. For me. For you. I need you to go to rehab and fight this. I already spoke to Molly and she has agreed to let us borrow the money to pay for rehab. I need you to get better. For us. For our children. I want this one to arrive knowing her daddy is there for her.” You demand, shifting closer so you can place his hand on your bump.

Frankie holds his emotions in. He’s never been one to cry a lot and it takes a lot to make him angry. Your hand, warm and covering his over the bump that protects the little girl you created together- it breaks him. He chokes out a sob, heavy tears pouring down his face as he starts to weep. Knowing he fucked up. Knowing instead of turning back to the fucking nose candy to forget how shitty his life was, he should have been at your mothers door every damned day, showing you that he could be the man you needed. He failed you and Lucas horribly and he almost died because of it. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, babe.” He sobs. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You reach out with your free hand to wipe his tears and you cup his cheek, “it’s okay. It’s okay baby. I love you. I will always love you no matter what. I left because I wanted you to change but I realize I should’ve stayed and helped you. You need help. Tell me you want to get help.” You beg, choking as you caress his cheek.

“I want to get help.” He promises. “I need you and Lucas. I need you baby. I’ll do anything.” He leans into your touch and breaks down again. “I missed so much. You’re showing and I missed it all.” It had been why you wanted to wait until he got out of the army, not wanting him to miss things and he has managed to do it anyway.

You choke on a sob, knowing he’s missed scans and her first kick and so much but you need him to get better. “I already called a rehab that can take you. It’s going to be paid for and we will make sure you get better.” You promise and he nods while you wipe his tears away. “Just focus on getting better.” You demand, wanting to see him as the Frankie you know and love.

His nod is still in the middle of him crying, unable to do anything else but agree. What can he do? If he wants any chance of being in this new baby’s life, he has to. Not to mention Lucas and you. “Okay. Okay- I- I will do anything.”

​​You caress his forehead and push his hair back from his face, “and I’ll be here.” You promise, “you need to get sober otherwise I can’t let you be around the children. Do it for them.” You demand, knowing that you love him but you can’t be with him. He will still take risks and you can’t live like that anymore.

“Sober.” He agrees, his voice cracking slightly. “I won’t even fucking drink anymore.” He promises.

You nod, squeezing his hand again, “get some rest, sweetheart. You need to sleep and get better.” You tell him and he sighs, closing his eyes as the exhaustion creeps over him. “I love you.” He murmurs and you lean in to kiss his forehead, “sleep.” When he’s ready, you’ll take him to rehab and it’s up to him to sort this mess out. You need to focus on your children.

**** 

Mail call is a torturous and wonderful time for Frankie. He now knows how all his fellow soldiers felt on deployment with their wives pregnant. He had missed you when he was gone, but now? Every letter contains pictures and every picture shows your bump is bigger, Lucas growing and he’s missing out on more. You look gorgeous. And tired. But so fucking gorgeous to him, your hands on your large baby bump.

Today is the day Frankie comes out of rehab and you are excited to see your husband again but apprehensive. You sign the paperwork and you’re told about the therapy sessions he has to continue and you are overwhelmed but when Frankie walks out, his face full of life and warmth again, you feel relieved. He embraces you, mindful of the bump which his hand finds to caress, and you kiss his cheek. “You look good, Frank.”

“Thanks.” He’s embarrassed that he’s put you through so much, but they’ve told him that he can’t dwell on that. He needs to show you, and him, that he has changed.

You caress his cheek and lower your hands, stepping back from him. You had considered having him move in with Will and Benny but you know he will backslide if you keep him away from Lucas. "Come on, let's go home." You demand and he grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder after thanking the staff. You moved back into the house when he left for rehab and it was a state. Will and Benny came over to help you clean it up since it was full of empty baggies and beer bottles. You had settled back in and you've been setting up the spare room as a nursery for the new baby.

“So, uh, how have you been?” He asks awkwardly, happy and sad you didn’t bring Lucas. Him getting out of rehab isn’t something he wants his son present for, even if he wouldn’t ever remember it.

You glance at him for a moment as you stop at the traffic light, “I’ve been good. She’s bouncing on my bladder now so I’ve been up all night going to the bathroom.” You complain and reach down to caress the bump. “Lucas is with my mom. I didn’t - I thought you might want to settle in before you had him walking around.” That kills Frankie. He missed his son’s first steps. “He can’t keep out of anything.”

“Yeah.” He frowns and looks down at his hands. “I’m sure. I’m sorry that I’ve not been any help.” He sighs. “The retirement paycheck has still been coming through, right?” His army retirement was still being directed to the joint account you shared and even though he could have taken out money to buy snacks and things like that, he hadn’t, wanting to leave that money for you and Lucas.

“Yes. I’ve been using it for the mortgage and the basics.” You tell him, “and my mom has been helping me with the groceries.” The idea was for you to stay at home with Lucas until he started pre-k and when Frankie was flying there was enough money for the overheads and to spend on luxuries but now, you’re on basics only and unable to go to work because you’re pregnant.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He hangs his head, knowing he hadn’t helped matters. “I’ll get back flying and I’ll get a second job. She’ll get her money back.”

You reach for his hand, “you’re home and that’s all that matters. We don’t have to rush anything. You need to focus on your sobriety and then we can figure everything else out.” You say before you let go of him so you can continue driving until you pull up on the driveway and put the car in park. “Come on.” You tell him when he hesitates after you cut the engine and he opens the door as you unlock the front door, heart fluttering at having your husband home.

You cleaned up. Another wave of guilt washes over Frankie and he sees that the mess and clutter he had lived in while you were gone has been wiped away and the house looks immaculate. “It looks incredible.” He praises. “I’m- fuck, I’m so sorry baby. I know it was a disaster.” He winces, aware that he’s piling onto you. “With you pregnant. That wasn't fair and I’ll make it up to you. Household shit is on me right now.”

You turn to look at him, “Will and Benny helped me. I couldn’t - there were too many baggies.” You finish with a whisper and he swallows harshly. “Anyway, I, uh, I need to - you hungry?” You ask, “I got all your favourites. Figured you’d be starving after being there for so long.”

“Starving.” He forces himself to laugh even though anything would be better than the awkward realization that the Millers have seen the evidence that he was abusing that shit after promising Benny he wouldn’t. He hadn’t been allowed his phone in rehab and he’s been scared to turn the damn thing on.

You smile and make your way into the kitchen to make him something to eat. He was so thin when he was in hospital, a shadow of the man you married, and you want him to be healthy and happy. You watch as he awkwardly stands there until you say "can you crack some eggs? Figured we could have breakfast for dinner."

“That sounds great.” Frankie immediately moves to the refrigerator and pulls out a carton of eggs. “Uh, you said Lucas likes eggs too?” Another milestone that he’s missed, his son is eating solid foods beyond just thick milk and baby food. He’s growing up and he’s missed so much.

You nod, working on a pancake batter, and you look at Frankie who is biting his lip, “yeah. He loves eggs. My mom gave him some berries and he loved them so I think we are gonna be spending our income on berries.” You tease and Frankie chuckles, “whatever he wants.” You work fast to prepare the dinner and you look at Frankie as he sits down opposite you at the table. “I really am glad you’re home.” You murmur, watching him as he grabs the glass of water to take a sip.

“Thanks, I-“ he pauses. “I looked at it like military training. It had to be done and I had to excel at it.” It had helped, snapping back into that mindset where the rules were rigid and there was no acceptance of failure.

You know his time in the military has left him with mental scars that you could never possibly understand. “Your children need you, Frankie. If you’d - well, you’re here now and we are going to support you.” You promise with a smile, “my mom is bringing Lucas over so you can see him before he goes to bed. I figured you’d want time to settle in but he wants to see his daddy.”

“She has to hate me.” Frankie huffs, knowing that if he were on the opposite end of this mess he wouldn’t like someone who did this to his child. “But I want to see Lucas. I- I didn’t get to hold him when I got home from South America.”

“She’s - she isn’t happy.” You confess but you know you can’t tell him how she begged you to divorce him and take the kids away. You couldn’t do that to the man you love. “She will be here soon with him and I…I’m going to sleep on the sofa from now on. I can’t share a bed with you, Frankie.”

“No.” He immediately frowns and shakes his head. “I’ve slept on worse surfaces than our couch. You are pregnant, no.” He insists. “I understand you don’t want to share a bed with me, I’ll sleep on the sofa. I’m not doing that to you.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him so you accept and continue eating. He’s quiet for the rest of the meal and you wonder if he’s angry that you aren’t welcoming him into your bed. He offers to clean up and he’s loading the dishwasher when your mom arrives with Lucas. “Hey baby. I’ve missed you.” You coo, taking Lucas into your arms and your mom looks behind you to see Frankie eagerly standing there.

Frankie tries to ignore the unhappy look on your mom’s face, aware that he’s not her favorite person right now. “Hey buddy.” He nearly chokes up again, seeing how big Lucas has gotten. He doesn’t try to take him from you, knowing that right now he’s virtually a stranger to him. “I missed you so much.”

You stroke Lucas’s back, “look, baby. It’s your daddy.” You coo and Lucas stares at Frankie. “You can hold him.” You offer and Frankie nods, taking the baby from your arms and he chokes on a sob as he cuddles his son. “You’ve missed a lot.” Your mom comments, “first steps. Solid food. He was growing up without his father.”

“I know I missed a lot.” Frankie readily admits that. “But I’m not missing any more.” He promises, looking down as Lucas reaches up to touch his stubble. “You and your sister and your mom are my only priority.”

Your mom stares at him, knowing she’s angry but piling it on him will make the situation worse. “Just don’t break my daughter’s heart again.” She demands and leans in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll call you later, honey. Have a good night. Bye Luc baby.” She coos, kissing his cheek before she backs away and makes her way to her car.

Lucas waves his to grandmother and Frankie knows that it could have gone a hell of a lot worse. She might have more to say when the baby isn’t around. “You said it’s near his bedtime?” Frankie asks. “What’s his routine? I want to do it.”

“He needs a bath. My mom already fed him. Bath time and then a story and bed.” You tell Frankie, “and a bottle of milk before he goes to sleep.” You explain and Frankie nods, “I’ll show you.” You say and make your way to the bathroom to fill the small bathtub inside the bigger one for Lucas.

“Let me.” Frankie fusses, knowing that your stomach is getting in the way and he’s wanting to show that he’s willing to help. “Order me around.” He jokes.

You smile and reach out to kiss Lucas’s cheek before you show Frankie how to check the water temperature before you undress the baby and roll up the dirty diaper. He likes to play with the squirty toys and splash around. Tires him out but you’ll need to use the rag and baby shampoo to wash his hair and his body. Then tilt his head back to wash the shampoo out of his hair.” You explain as Frankie sets Lucas down in the baby tub.

Play with toys, check.” Frankie nods, watching as Lucas immediately reaches for the toys and he pulls the basket off the side of the tub to give them to him. “Rag and baby shampoo, tilt his head back to keep the soap from his eyes.”

You nod, deciding to stand there and watch him even though you know he will feel inadequate. You watch him as he washes Lucas carefully and the baby giggles when Frankie puts some bubbles on his beard to look silly.

“Is that funny?” Frankie chuckles, making a funny face at his son and turns the bathing into a little game that has Lucas laughing.

You lean against the counter as you watch him make Lucas laugh, the little boy splashing the water with his feet, and your heart warms while your eyes water. You can’t believe he nearly wasn’t here to do this.

Eventually, Lucas starts to yawn and Frankie quickly finishes up washing the little boy and gets him out of the tub and wrapped in a warm little froggy towel to carry him into his bedroom. “Diaper and then a sleeper?” He asks. “Do you still use powder on him?”

“Only if he’s sore and there’s diaper cream if he’s chafing.” You tell him and he nods, carrying Lucas into his room to lay him down on the changing mat. “And you’ll need to turn on the white noise machine.” You say as he dries Lucas off before he takes the towel off and starts to get him ready for bed.

It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s put his son into a onesie to sleep in and it breaks his heart. He talks to Lucas while he does and the little boy seems to like his raspy voice. Once he’s all ready, he scoops him up. “Let’s get you that bottle.”

Lucas doesn’t need a warm bottle anymore so you show Frankie how to mix the formula with room temp bottled water. He takes the bottle from you and carries Lucas over to the chair. The little boy grabs the bottle and you hand Frankie his favorite book for him to read. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” You say after you walk over to kiss Lucas on the cheek and tell him goodnight.

At one time, that comment would be an invitation, but those days are long gone. Rather than rushing through this, Frankie takes his time. Reading the book and doing different tones and voices for different characters. He mixes them up, but he doubts Lucas cares as he drinks the bottle, nodding off in his arms. When he’s done, Frankie just sits there and holds him for another ten minutes, not wanting to let him go. Once he’s in the bed, he sneaks out of the room and closes the door, looking towards the bedroom that he once called his, rubbing his hands on his jeans and sighing softly. It’s better if he goes to clean up the kitchen.

You watch Lucas on the monitor after Frankie closes the door and you get ready for bed, exhausted from the day and you walk into the kitchen to get some water after getting changed. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on the sofa?” You ask and Frankie nods, “of course.” You reach out to caress his back after he sets the dish down on the counter. “I love you, Frankie, and I’m so glad you’re here and you’re home. Please don’t - I can’t go through that again.” You plead, your free hand on your bump.

“I won’t.” He promises, turning around and facing you. “I know things have been bad, hard, but I don’t want you to ever go through that again.” Turning back, he grabs a glass from the cabinet and gets you some water. “Here.”

“Thanks, baby.” You murmur and you are close to him. He leans in closer and you turn your head just as his lips press against your cheek. “We can’t. I can’t. We are here as parents.” You remind him, “goodnight, Frankie.” You murmur, backing away so you can go back to the bedroom.

Sighing, he watches you go, hating that he had even tried. Parents. Apparently you love him but you only want to raise your kids with him. His heart breaks a little all over again.

**** 

You grunt as you try to place the picture on the wall. You’ve been decorating the nursery for your little girl, fortunate that both kids can have their own room, but you’ve been doing it mainly by yourself. Frankie managed to get his licence back after agreeing to random checks and weekly tests to maintain his sobriety. The company needed pilots and desperately wanted him back, even with his past. So he’s been flying all the time, trying to pay back your mom and provide for your family. It’s been hard living with him under the same roof without being with him but you’ve been supporting him while he goes to therapy and NA. Lucas is attached to Frankie at the hip now and you love that your son has a relationship with his father. You hope your little girl will have that too. You adjust the picture and look over at the Mobil, wondering if you can ask Frankie to do that later.

“Morales!” Frankie turns from his locker, looking towards the boss as he is halfway out of his flight suit. “Got another dispatch in.” Frankie knows he should be happy, it’s overtime flight pay, but he had been hoping to get home early tonight. He’s been working a lot to make sure that you and his babies are taken care of and paying his mother-in-law back. When he gets home every night, he has enough time to play with Lucas and give him a bath, put him to bed and then take care of the household chores. It’s been a lot, but he’s been determined to make it good for you after missing so much. “Yeah?” He asks, sliding his arms back into the sleeves. “Yeah, Johnson is going to be an hour late, think you can take it?” Frankie nods, aware that his boss likes when he is willing to take on more flights. “Sure thing, I’m not maxed out.” He agrees, pulling out his phone to send you a quick text, unsure of when he will be home now.

You sigh when Frankie texts that he’s going to be home late. At nearly eight months pregnant, you are struggling to handle Lucas and do things around the house but you’re determined to be independent, even if your husband has done more than his fair share around the house. You give Lucas his dinner and then get him into his bath, something that Frankie loves to do, and soon you’re cooing to your son as he falls asleep. Once he’s asleep, you take the baby monitor into your little girl’s room to try and get everything ready. You glance at the mobile and sigh, wanting to get it done tonight so you can focus on washing the baby clothes and getting those put away. You grab the ladder from the garage and grunt as you carry it into the spare room, stepping up onto it with the hammer and nail to the spot you want above the crib. Your bump presses against the top of the ladder and you growl when you can’t reach. You take another step up, hammer in hand and you reach to bang the nail in when you sway and lose your footing.

Frankie sighs as he opens the door to the house. He is too late to bath Lucas and put him to bed, but maybe you’re still up. You’ve been so tired so quickly, Frankie hasn’t tried to make you stay up with him. “Babe?” He calls softly in case you are asleep. “You awake?”

“Frankie.” You gasp, your stomach clenching as you cry out in pain. You had fallen from the ladder and you are terrified that you’ve done something to hurt the baby. You fell onto your back and you are in agony, barely able to gasp his name.

Frankie hears something and turns towards the hallway. “Babe?” He frowns, hearing a small cry and he rushes towards the bedrooms. “Babe?!” The light is on in the nursery and he darts inside to find a ladder knocked over and you on the floor. “Shit! What happened?” He demands, rushing over to you and dropping down to his knees.

Your eyes widen and you reach for your husband, inhaling deeply, "I tried - the mobile. I waited for you but you were late and I wanted it done. It was st-stupid. I'm sorry." You choke out, "so sorry."

“No, no, it’s okay.” He’s going to blame himself for this. He should have been home. “We- I need to get you up baby. We need to get you to the hospital.”

You cry out when he helps you stand up, immediately reaching for the dresser to balance yourself and you hear Lucas cry. "He needs - we need to take him to my moms." You gasp but Frankie shakes his head, "no time. He will come with us." He says and you nod, "I'm so sorry. I should've waited. It's not time. She's - it's not even eight months."

“Listen to me.” Fear creeps up his own throat, but he pushes it down as he cups both of your cheeks in his hands. “It’s okay. We are just making sure you are both still perfect.” He won’t tell you about the nightmares he’s had about losing you and the baby. That he’s woken up crying and desperate to use again. You don’t need that. You need him right here and calm. “I’m going to get you to the car and then I’m going to get Lucas. Unless you think you need the ambulance?”

You shake your head, still in his hands, "driving will be quicker. I need - I just - oh shit." You shit as another wave of pain hits you, "please Frankie." You sob and he nods, wrapping his arm around you. "Come on, baby. Slow." He orders and you take small steps out to the car.

Frankie helps you into the car, hating every time you cry out and he rushes back inside. Lucas’s screams are loud and angry at being ignored. “It’s okay.” He coos as he bursts through his son’s door hard enough to make the baby jump and quiet down because he was so startled. “Daddy’s here.” He scoops him up and grabs the diaper bag that needs to be repacked for this trip. He will have to call your mom and hope she can come get him, or he will be with you at the hospital. He doesn’t bother wasting time changing him, being in a wet diaper for the next half hour won’t kill him. He rushes into the kitchen to grab some of the big boy bottles he had switched too and the can of formula, along with the snacks to shove into the bag. Fixing Lucas a bottle for the car before he is flying back out the door to strap him into his car seat.

You try to turn to look at Lucas, trying to reassure him that mommy is here. "It's okay, my love." You promise and Lucas grips the bottle as you watch him in the mirror while Frankie gets into the driver's seat. "Jesus." You hiss as you hold your bump, heart pounding in fear that your stupid mistake has killed your baby. "She's not kicking." You tell Frankie with a sob when he pulls up outside the front of the hospital.

“It’s okay.” He’s panicking on the inside, his heart pounding and he feels like he’s about to pass out. Jumping out of the car, he starts yelling into the doors. “We need help!” He shouts, waving the trauma nurses to the bay. He might have pulled up into the ambulance bay, but he doesn’t give a shit. “My wife. Thirty-two weeks pregnant. She fell off a ladder.” He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed by why you were on the ladder to begin with. That can happen later. “Pain in the abdominal area and she says the baby isn’t moving.” He rattles off the information as three nurses come out with a wheelchair and he rips the door open to help you out of the passenger seat.

You cry out when you are put into the wheelchair and you reach for Frankie, "take care of Lucas." You demand, needing your son to be taken care of while you go through this. Frankie nods, getting back in the car to park it before he carries Lucas into the hospital and asks for your room. He's taken there and you are in a gown, already hooked up to an IV and they are rolling in the ultrasound machine.

Lucas is clinging to him but as soon as he sees you, he’s lunging forward and calling out for you. “Mama!” Frankie pulls him back. “No, baby, we can’t go to mama right now.” He murmurs. “She’s got to be checked out.” He bites his lip and crowds closer to you, reaching out with a free hand to take yours. “I- I called your mom. She’s on the way.” He promises. “But you are going to be fine. Our little girl is fine.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to believe him but you are distraught. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn't have been up that stupid ladder. I should've waited for you to get home. Or the next day." You shake your head and sob when your gown is pulled up and the gel is spread over your bump. You squeeze Frankie's hand and silently pray that she's okay.

“It’s my fault baby. I shouldn’t have taken the extra flight.” Guilt swamps him but he can’t dwell on that. He rocks Lucas on his hip as the little boy is fascinated by what is happening to his mom and he prays that everything will be okay. He leans down and kisses your forehead. “I’m right here with you. No matter what.” He promises softly.

You hold your breath as the doctor presses the wand to your bump and you swallow harshly when there's no heartbeat. "Frank-" You choke and squeeze his hand even tighter. The wand is moved around until finally, the heartbeat echoes in the room. You start to sob in relief, "she's alive." Frankie has tears in his eyes and you are so happy until the doctor frowns, "she is in distress. Her heartbeat is slowing. We need to do an emergency c-section. We cannot put you into labor, it will take too long." The doctor begins to order the nurses around you but you are struggling to breathe as you panic.

“Baby, baby.” Frankie leans over you, kissing your forehead. “Just breathe. It’s going to be okay. She’s going to be fine just as soon as they pull her out.” He promises even though he can’t be sure. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

You shake your head, "I can't - I - Frankie. I can't go through it again. What if I die? Or she does? I can't - you won't be strong enough to handle it and you're going to go off the rails. You're going to fail and my mom - if something happens, you need to call my mom." You demand, "promise me you'll let my mom take Lucas."

Every time you encouraged him has been a lie. It feels like a punch to the gut to hear you say that and Frankie pulls back. “Yeah.” He murmurs, frowning as he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry. I’ll -“ the nurses rush over to start to move the bed to wheel you into surgery. “I’ll give him to your mom.” He calls after you, giving you that small bit of comfort since apparently you’ve never trusted him at all this entire time, even though he has worked so hard to show you that he is changing.

You wish Frankie could be with you in the operating room but he needs to stay with Lucas. You are shaking as the nurse reminds you to calm down. You swallow harshly, glad that epidural is working as you look up at the overhead lights, waiting for news of your baby girl.

Your words are ringing in his ears, mocking him. Reminding him that you don’t trust him. Frankie is on autopilot, changing Lucas and feeding him when he is hungry as he waits for some word on you. He’s pacing around the room that you have been assigned, where you will be brought back and he hopes that everything goes well.

You sob when your baby girl cries as she is cut from your womb and the doctor places her on your chest. "She's healthy. She will need to stay in the hospital for observation but she's okay, mama." The doctor tells you and you sob, "she's okay." You lean in to kiss her head as she cries against your chest.

“Ohhhh my grandson! Come to me.” Your mother rushes into the hospital room and practically snatches Lucas out of Frankie’s arms. She’s been frigidly polite around you and Lucas, but he knows that it’s only because you are pregnant. “How are they?” She demands, bouncing Lucas lightly as she glares at Frankie like this is his fault. “They- they are doing a C section.” He chokes out, before he covers his mouth and turns away. He can’t scare Lucas with his emotional state.

Your mom’s eyes widen, “but she’s not ready. She’s - God. What happened?” Your mom asks and Frankie swallows harshly, “she, uh, she was trying to put up the mobile when she fell off the ladder.” Your mom glares at him, “and what the hell was she doing that for? Where were you?” She demands to know, furious and Lucas clings to her.

“I was working late.” Frankie snaps at her. “Yes it’s my goddamn fault.” He yanks his hat off and runs his hand through his hair. “I took another flight to try to make more money to pay you back for everything you did for her while I was being a piece of shit. I work ten to twelve hours every fucking day I can, come home and take care of Lucas to bond with him, do laundry because she can’t load the washing machine, vacuum and mop because her back and feet are killing her, doing everything I can to make up for the fact that I fucked up.” He glares back at his mother in law. “But it doesn’t fucking matter because she doesn’t trust any of it. She doesn’t trust me. At all. Nothing. Not the fucking meetings, not the weekly drug tests, not a fucking thing I have done has made her trust me farther than she can throw me.” He huffs and shakes his head. “I- I can’t be here.” He chokes out. “I need some air.” He whirls around and opens the door before he turns back to her. “Your daughter told me that if something happened to her, I was to give Lucas to you.” His voice is quiet and broken as he tells her that. “But I’ll be goddamned if that happens.” He walks out of the room, unable to stay there for a second longer.

Your mom follows him down the hall with Lucas in her arms. "You have fought in so many battles but you're a goddamn coward." She hisses at him and he spins, his dark eyes flaring in shock. "I watched her agonize over you when you were gone without a damn word for 3 weeks. She barely slept, she was so worried. She was terrified when she found out she was pregnant again because she was worried that if she had another bad birth, you'd be sent over the edge again. She's strong but she's not strong enough to raise two kids and try to support you. She's done everything she can to help you. Most women would have divorced your ass by now. She's stood by you, helped you, and she was devastated when she got the call that you OD'd. She loves you so much and she can only handle so much. She told me that if something happened to her, for me to take Lucas because she knew you would struggle and she didn't want you to have the added stress of a baby, maybe even two babies. Even at the thought of her dying, she wanted to protect you. She loves you, Frankie, and you have done so well to be where you are today but you cannot be angry at her for protecting her children. For protecting you." Your mom shakes her head, "and I told her I didn't need the money paid back right away. She wanted you to do it so you didn't feel worse about the situation."

Frankie stares at her for a moment and sighs. “I- this is my fault.” He confesses quietly. “I was coming home to help her with the nursery. But I was asked to stay late. She fell because she didn’t want to wait. She couldn’t trust me to hang a fucking mobile.” He growls. “My wife is being cut open and our child pulled out of her, because I worked overtime. How the fuck should I feel?” He asks, opening his hand and spreading them helplessly. “I’ve not even thought about getting high. I’m too goddamn scared right now because I couldn’t even be with her!”

Your mom reaches out to hug him with her free arm, Lucas between them, “it’s okay, Frankie. She will be okay. The baby will be okay. Have faith.” She murmurs, “you’re a good man. You just need to focus on your family.” She says and leans back to smile at him. The doctor comes out into the hallway to find where Frankie is waiting and Frankie stiffens as the doctor approaches. “Mom and baby are doing fine. Your daughter is healthy but we need to keep them both in for observation for at least a week. We will bring them back to the room soon.” She tells Frankie and your mom.

Frankie nearly collapses in relief and he doesn’t even think about it as he moves to take Lucas out of her arms to hold him close. “Mama and sister are okay.” He tells him quietly, closing his eyes and letting himself believe that everything will be alright. “Thank you.” He whispers quietly.

Your mom rubs his back, “she’s okay. They are both okay. This is it, Frankie. Make sure you let her know how much you love her and your family. Anything else? doesn’t matter.” She promises and Frankie nods. It doesn’t take long for them to roll you back into the room with your baby girl. You are a little out of it but you look up at Frankie and grin, “she’s okay.”

“Good.” He smiles down at you, but he doesn’t lean down to kiss your forehead. Your words and view of him still stings and his eyes are fixed on the tiny little bundle in your arms. “She’s gorgeous.” He whispers, Lucas asleep on his shoulder and he wishes he could hold her.

"I can take him." Your mom offers, "so you can hold her." You nod and Frankie lets his mother in law hold Lucas so he can cradle his newborn daughter. "She's strong. Like her daddy." You murmur, watching the awe on his face.

His brow furrows at your words but he doesn’t let it distract him from memorizing his daughter’s face. Falling in love with her immediately. “Hello, beautiful.” His finger caresses her cheek gently. “You are going to be trouble, aren’t you?” He coos softly. “Already impatient to be out and about.”

You watch him with tears in your eyes as he looks at his daughter and you are relieved she’s healthy and okay. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I- it’s my fault that she’s here so early. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn and what I said before- I- I’m so sorry. I trust you. Of course I do. You’ve worked so hard and come so far, but I was scared. I didn’t want you to go over the edge if I died, if she died, and Lucas was left watching his father struggle.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that.” He tells you gruffly. “You need to rest. You- you were worried.” He doesn’t tell you that most of the time people are more honest when they are scared, he just cuddles his daughter closer. “Did you decide on a name?”

"I wanted to discuss it with you." You tell him, "it's our decision but I was thinking...Francesca...after her father." You reveal, hoping he likes it. If not, you have other options.

Frankie bites his lip and looks down at his beautiful little girl. “You know everyone will be calling her Franny.” He hums. “But I love it.”

You chuckle, "I know but I thought it suits her. As soon as I saw her face. She looks just like you." You coo as Frankie brings her back to your chest while your mom holds Lucas. "I love you, Frankie. Never forget that." You plead, "I never stopped."

He nods, clearing his throat and he looks between you and your mom. “We don’t have anything here.” He huffs, a half smile on his face even though he’s not really feeling it. “Do you- uh, want me to go get some clothes and - or would you rather your mom went?” He asks, sure you would think he was running off to get high.

"Can you go get it?" You ask, wanting him to feel like you trust him. "I am going to try to get her to latch and Lucas can go home with my mom until we are out of the hospital...if that's okay with you?" You ask, wanting to be considerate to Frankie.

“Yeah.” He nods seriously and walks over to Lucas to kiss his forehead before he glances at his mother in law. “If you don’t mind?”

She shakes her head, "of course I don't. I am more than happy to spend time with my little man." She coos, rubbing Lucas's back. "Anything to help you both out. Go get the stuff. We will be fine." She promises, shifting to sit down with Lucas.

Frankie walks back over to you and the baby, leaning down and kissing Francesca’s head but he pulls back before he kisses your head. Since that first night he had been back from rehab, he’s never tried to kiss your lips again, wanting you to come to him, so it had become a habit to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” He promises. “With everything on your baby list.” You had started making a list of everything you would need in the hospital.

**** 

You wince as you enter the house, your stitches pulling, and Lucas toddles around while Frankie carries Franny in her carrier. She's asleep and you are anxious to get her settled so you can relax a little. The surgery and stress of her birth have made you exhausted and you are eager to be in your own bed. "I'll go get the baby things." Frankie says after he sets her down, leaving her to sleep in the carrier.

He is tired, but he doesn’t regret any of the lack of sleep. It’s been amazing spending time with his baby girl. Your mother has brought Lucas to the hospital every day and his job has given him paternity leave, so he can focus on you and the baby.

You watch him as he rushes around to make sure everything is settled before he is sitting down on the sofa, showing Lucas a toy that your mom had gotten him for being a new big brother.

“You like this?” He asks with a smile on his face as Lucas grabs the toy and hugs it to his chest. “You’re going to be a good big brother, you know that?”

You smile, watching Frankie and Lucas. "He will be because his daddy is going to show him." You say and Frankie looks up at you with a look you don't recognize. So many years together, you know him inside and out but right now, he looks like a stranger. You spend a few hours settling in until Lucas is in bed and Franny is in the crib next to your bed. Frankie is getting a glass of water for you and when he brings it in, you look at him, "come to bed tonight." You request, wanting your husband next to you.

“Uh,” a week ago, Frankie would have jumped at the chance to sleep beside you. He had missed it every night that he had been on the couch, but he can’t do it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He admits. “Your stitches…” he wipes his hands on the sleep pants he had changed into. “If I’m out in the living room, I can immediately start making Francesca a bottle when she wakes up.”

You frown, your stomach twisting and your heart sinking with the rejection. It’s a flimsy excuse and you wonder if he hates you after everything you’ve put him through. Maybe he resents making him jump through hoops to get back with his family. “Yeah.” You murmur, shifting to lay down, “goodnight, Francisco.”

“Goodnight.” He murmurs your name and watches as you close the door to the bedroom. He sighs softly and reaches up to rub his cheek. It’s for the best. You don’t trust him and that’s just something he can’t quite move past.

**** 

It’s been a few months since you came home with Franny and Frankie went back to work when his leave ended, leaving you with two children. It’s exhausting but you love them both so much. Frankie is still sleeping on the sofa and you feel so guilty. He’s shown you how you can rely on him and you hate that you hurt him when you told him you didn’t trust him with Lucas if something happened to you.

Coming home, Frankie opens the door and sighs happily. “I’m home. I brought pizza.” He calls out, tossing his keys and kicking the door closed behind him. He managed to get off on time, aware that after a day with the kids, you don’t need him working extra.

“You’re a godsend.” You groan, coming into the living room with Lucas running up to his father shouting “dada!” and you take the pizza box from Frankie so he can greet his son. Franny is in her rocker and you are ready to eat and relax once the kids are settled.

“Hey buddy!” Frankie scoops him up with a groan and laughs when he tosses him up in the air, making Lucas shriek in delight. The fact that his son is running is amazing and terrifying at the same time. “How were they today? I also picked up a bottle of wine.”

“God, I love you.” You groan and he stiffens slightly until you continue, “they were - a lot. Lucas woke Franny up and she needed a diaper change but Lucas decided to run around with it so of course it went all over the floor and I had to clean it and give them both a bath and yeah. The wine is needed.” You sigh, “I have enough milk to pump and dump tonight.”

“Yeah.” He winces slightly. “I can take the night shift tonight.” He volunteers. “We don’t have a flight in the morning, it’s a training class.”

You don’t argue, knowing he wants to help out as much as possible. You put Lucas in his high chair and give him his dinner while Frankie plates up your slices along with a glass of wine. “Have you heard from the boys?” You ask once you’re sitting down and Franny is in her rocker while Lucas plays after you feed him.

“Yeah.” He nods and takes a bite of his pizza. “They are good. Benny’s still fighting. He’s moved up in the MMA circuit.” He had been asked to go out for a beer, which he turned down, and to come to a fight, which he also turned down. The baby is still too much for you to take care of during the day and expect you to watch her at night too.

You smile, “that’s amazing. You’ll have to go to one of his fights soon.” You tell Frankie who hums, he didn’t tell you that he’d turn down a couple of times going out with his friends. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me. I’m sure you’d rather be out with them.” You murmur, acknowledging that Frankie had become distant, even more so than when he was using.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I love being here with the kids.” He takes another bite of his pizza. “When we get done with dinner, I’ll get the bath time done and then work on the bottles.” He tells you. “What’s being out with the guys compared to spending time with Lucas and Franny?”

You smile, “yeah. They are the best company. Lucas listens to me ramble all day long without complaint.” You joke and after a moment, you reach for Frankie’s hand. “I know it’s hard to forgive me for what I said in the hospital but I’m sorry. I trust you. Implicitly. I would never have my mom take the kids from you. I’m sorry I said that. I was terrified and I thought, well, I thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to me again. I don’t feel like that. I did when you first got out but not now? You’ve more than proven that you are sober and capable. I’m so sorry I doubted you. I should’ve stood beside you as your wife as well as the mother of our children. I love you, Frankie, and I want…I want us to be married. I want our marriage back. Not just parents.” You confess, knowing he could say no.

He bites his lip, looking into your eyes and hoping that you aren’t just saying that. “Are you sure?” He asks, swallowing harshly. “I’ve- it’s gotten easier. Not wanting to reach for you. If you- I can’t have you change your mind. I won’t use again, but I-“ he struggles to explain himself. “I’ve tried so hard to compartmentalize things. To make it easier for you. I didn’t want you to feel like I was just trying to get back in your bed. When Franny was born….” He sighs. “I thought about divorce.” He admits.

​​Tears sting in your eyes at the news that he wanted a divorce and you resist the urge to pull your hand from his, “if you still want that…I’d understand, but I love you. I never stopped loving you. I was scared and in uncharted territory. I didn’t know how to react and I was trying to protect myself and our children. I was angry with you but now, I understand what you’ve been through. Why you did it. I’m not angry anymore and I trust you. Like I said, I want our marriage back but if you don’t…just tell me.”

“I didn’t leave.” He reminds you softly, squeezing your hand. “I thought about it, and I couldn’t see myself not seeing you every day.” He sighs again. “I don’t want to divorce, I didn’t want that when I was at my lowest and I don’t want that now. I want you, I want our family.” Frankie promises. “Whatever it takes.”

You smile, picking his hand up to kiss the back of it, “whatever it takes. Come to bed with me tonight. Not to have sex. I just want to be next to you.” You say and he nods. You aren’t ready to introduce sex back into your relationship. It doesn’t take long for Frankie to bathe the kids and you work together to get the kids ready for bed. “Goodnight baby.” You murmur to Lucas before Frankie reads his bedtime story. You warm up the bottle for Franny since you and Frankie drank most of the wine, and you settle her in the crib by your bed after she’s asleep on your chest. You get ready for bed just as Frankie tentatively enters the room. “I’m sure your back is killing you from sleeping on the sofa.”

“It hasn’t been great.” He admits with a soft laugh. “But I wasn’t going to make you sleep on the damn sofa.” He steps into the room and tilts his head. “You start snoring?” He asks teasingly.

You chuckle and shake your head, watching him start to strip down and your stomach twists at the sight of his strong back. You bite your lip and enjoy the sight of your husband after so many months at odds. “I'm glad you’re back where you belong.”

“I’ve missed you.” Frankie admits softly, smiling when he catches you eyeing him. You’ve never had any problem with your attraction to him and he’s glad that everything that’s happened hasn’t changed that. “Do you need some water before I get into bed?”

You nod and he pulls on his sleep pants before he makes his way into the kitchen to get you a glass of water. He hands the glass to you and you set it down on the side while Frankie heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he comes back out, you turn off the lamp and the baby monitor for Lucas is on the side while Franny sleeps in her crib. “Come here.” You say as you lift the covers and he slides into the bed. “Can you hold me?” You ask him, wanting to feel his arms around you again.

“I can do that.” He promises, opening his arms and sighing happily when you fold yourself into that space. “I hated not touching you.” He admits quietly, kissing your hair softly. “You’re right where you belong, baby.” He smiles and closes his eyes. “Right here with me.”

“I’m here, babe. I’m here.” You promise and sigh, pressing a soft kiss to his chest as you close your eyes. You need to sleep before either one of the kids wakes you up so you snuggle into his chest and fall asleep within moments. 

**** 

“Frankie.” You whisper, poking your husband in the chest. He groans, grunting as you wake him up. “You okay?” He asks, voice heavy with sleep, and you swing your leg over his waist. “I need you.” You whine slightly, wanting to feel him. It’s been six months since Frankie came back into your bed and Franny is in her nursery, so you and Frankie have been exploring the physical side of your relationship again.

“Hmmm?” He groans when you slide your hand down into his boxers and wrap it around his cock. “You want that?” He is still tired but quickly becoming more alert as his body responds to yours. You are still as sexy as the day he took you home the first time and he doesn’t think he will ever think any differently. “How do you want it, baby? Want to ride me?”

“Want you on top. Want you to surround me.” You coo, squeezing his cock and you love the way he twitches in your hand, hardening at your touch. “Wanna feel you, baby. All of you.” You plead, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

“Give you whatever you want.” Frankie groans, running his hand down your back and squeezing your ass. You’re already naked, so you’ve obviously been thinking about this for some time before you woke him up. “Get a condom baby.” He reminds you. You hadn’t had any birth control after Franny, wanting to give your body a break and you both had decided that he would use condoms when you started being intimate again.

You reluctantly let him go so you can roll over and reach for a condom from the drawer, rolling back over to hand it to your husband who is kicking off his boxers. Your hand finds his cock again as he takes the condom from you and your lips meet his in the dark.

“I love you.” He whispers softly, reaching up to cup your cheek gently. He then rolls the condom down his cock and pumps himself a few times. “Take what you want baby.” He begs. “I’m yours.”

You reach down to position him at your entrance, wanting him inside of you. He groans as he starts to push into you, hovering over you, and you kiss him. “I love you.” You murmur, caressing his shoulders down to his back.

“I love you too.” Frankie groans, pushing his arms under you and pulling you close. He’s always loved the intimacy, the closeness of being with you. “You’re so perfect.” He whispers, kissing along your jaw.

You moan softly as he starts to move inside you, "I'm not. But I want to be the best for you. For the kids. I love you, Frank. So damn much. Will always be here for you." You promise and you wrap your legs around his, pressing your heels into his thighs.

Frankie uses his body to worship yours. Every thrust is slowly building up to a rhythm that has you panting breathless praises into his mouth. “Fuck baby, want you to soak me.” Frankie growls, pushing deep and groaning when you clench around him. “Give me one.”

He's always known exactly how to place your body, especially after so many years together. You gasp when he pushes deep and hits something that makes your thighs clench and your walls grip him tight. "Again. There." You demand and he grunts, focusing on that spot and you start to whine breathlessly as he works you higher until you are clamping down on his cock. His name smothered against his chin as you try to keep quiet to not wake the babies.

He shudders as you come apart around him, loving how wet and tight you get. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” He coos raspily, twitching inside you. “So good, you’re so good for me baby. Cumming on my cock like that. This is what you needed?” He asks, smirking against your neck as he starts to rock a little harder into you. “Needed me to fuck you before the kids wake up? Wanted to ache all day?”

You moan at his words, loving when Frankie talks dirty to you. He’s usually quiet, moans and groans, and he has to be really worked up to be talking like that. “Yes.” You whine, “want to feel you when I do the laundry. Want to know you fucked me hard. My husband giving me what I want.” You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his head close so you can kiss him.

Your own words make him snap his hips harder, fucking into you with harsh, jolting thrusts. Working himself closer to the edge as he pulls moan after whimpering moan out of you. Feeling you clench down around him again, either to push him over the edge or because you came again, he doesn’t know. He groans your name into your mouth and pushes deep, throbbing inside you as he spills into the condom.

You try to catch your breath after he made you cum again, the way he groans your name has your heart pounding in your chest and you caress every inch of skin you can reach. “I’m so happy we made it through, baby.” You murmur when you are curled around him, condom thrown into the trash.

“Me too.” Frankie hums softly, caressing your skin gently as he thinks about how different things might have been and how he’s glad that they aren’t. “I just wish we could have one birth that wasn’t traumatic.” He admits.

You caress his chest, “I wouldn’t mind if we had another.” You comment, knowing that you have steady income now and he’s sober. There’s nothing to stop you from having another one. “I have been thinking about it. Another baby.” You confess, “if you want one.”

“Babe, are you sure?” He twists his neck to look at you. “It’s been a lot and I don’t want you to end up regretting it because we were talking about what ifs.”

“I’m sure. We are the best we have ever been. And Lucas is starting daycare soon. We will manage and my mom can help out. I want us to have a pregnancy that’s not a surprise and that isn’t traumatic for us both. I want to enjoy this. But after this one you’re getting the snip.” You tease, “I love you. I want to have another baby with you.”

“Okay.” Frankie grins as he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. “One more and we are done.” He promises. “I love you baby. Never doubt that.”

“You got another round in you, soldier? We can start trying tonight.” You smirk, sliding your hand down to his cock and you love how he starts to harden in your grip. “I love you.” You gasp when he rolls you over and bats your hand away. “Another round, but first…want to make you feel good.” He declares as he starts to kiss down your body. It’s been a rocky road to get to where you are now and there were times when you didn’t think you’d make it but you have. You and Frankie are strong and in love. Through all the trials and tribulations, you’ve made it and now you’ll enjoy making baby number three. You’ll get your happy ending with Frankie after all.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Overwhelmed

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,170ish

Summary: Everything becomes too much when Bucky's away.

Notes: I'm incredibly overwhelmed right now. The scenarios in this fic are based on my true situation. The only problem is that I'm all on my own.

You and Bucky met at a fundraiser for your school. Sam had convinced him to come to help raise money. You were the energetic teacher in charge of it all and Bucky was immediately smitten by you. With some meddling, Sam got you and Bucky to swap numbers and Bucky asked you out on a date. The two of you have been together since.

That was six months ago. In that time, you and Bucky have grown close, sharing many things close to your own hearts. He’s shared experiences from his life, including glimpses into the Winter Soldier, while you shared your teaching experience and your chronic illness. You had been thankful that up to this point, you hadn’t had a flare up with Bucky, but you knew it was bound to happen.

You were taking on a lot at work. You were the leader of your teacher team, running student council, in charge of the yearbook, the pseudo tech coach, and just the person people came to for whatever they may need. You had been come to be known as the person people could rely on. You were also known to be good with students who had behavior problems, so you had many of those in your class. And now, you were just asked to do a fourth / fifth class next year, which you had done in the past. 

It was all beginning to pile on and you felt like you couldn’t say ‘no’ out of fear for disappointing anyone and knowing that others couldn’t handle the tasks at hand. You could feel all the stress seep into you physically and, on your way home from school one Friday, you could feel a flare up coming on. You held it together until you got home and then curled up on the couch and broke down into sobs. Everything hurt. Emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you shakily pulled it out. It was Bucky, who you knew was away with Sam right now. He was calling to check on you, like he tried to do after school every day. You took a few deep breath’s before you answered the phone.

“Hey, Buck,” you tried not to show like you were barely holding it all together.

“Hey, doll,” you could hear the small smile on his face. The one he saved for you alone. “Just calling to check on you. How did your day go?”

“It was, uh,” you paused to clear your throat, “fine.”

“Are you sure?” You should have known that Bucky would catch on. He wasn’t an idiot and was very in tune with you. “What are you not telling me?”

Letting out a shaky exhale, the tears built up again and there was no stopping them. “It’s been… a lot. Everything’s finally getting to me and I don’t know how to work through it all.”

“What’s going on, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“They asked me to teach the split class again… and I said yes.”

“Y/N…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Buck. But who else was going to do it? The options aren’t good. The— The students couldn’t handle the other options and I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”

“At what cost, darling?”

“I know…” You moved slightly on the couch, a pained groan slipping through your lips. 

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you. What else is up?”

You sighed. “I… I have a flare up starting. But I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with it for years now and thankfully, it’s the weekend so I’ll take it easy.”

“I should be there. I shouldn’t have gone on this mission with Sam. Doll—“

“Stop that, Bucky. I’ll be fine. Just finish the mission and I’ll be here waiting.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there, sweetheart.”

“No need. I know you’ll be back soon and make it up to me.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up the phone and curled further into the couch, knowing that you’d probably fall asleep like that without any food or even changing. But it was just too much too move. You were in too much pain.

~~~

Bucky stared at the phone after the call ended. Guilt was bubbling up inside of him. He hadn’t ever been there to help you through a flare up before, and here he was, not there again. 

“You okay there, Bucky?” Sam wondered, watching the whole interaction.

“No,” he replied, stuffing the phone in his pocket. “I’m going home. Y/N needs me and I need to be there for her.”

Sam smirked. “I hope you know that I expect a child named after me.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Go. Help your girl.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

~~~

Though Bucky didn’t live with you, he did have a key to your apartment. It was slightly past midnight when he slipped into your apartment. He snuck further into the apartment, glancing around to make sure he didn’t accidentally do anything to disturb you. He headed for the kitchen to quickly get a drink of water before his eyes caught sight of you on the couch. Bucky’s heart broke as he took in the sight of you curled up on the couch. You were still in your work close and there were dried tear tracks on your face. He could also see how tense your muscles were.

Quietly, he came over to you and gently scooped you up into his arms. You whimpered as he did so.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “Just gotta get you to bed.”

“B—Bucky?” You slurred.

“Yeah, doll, it’s me.”

You began to wake up more. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t stand the thought of you struggling on your own.”

“Really?” You quickly grew emotional again.

“Really, doll. I’m here for you. So let’s get you into something comfy.”

~~~

Bucky helped you get changed as he soon realized it was currently hard for you to easily help yourself. After you were changed, Bucky helped you get comfortable in bed.

“Have you eaten or taken any meds tonight?” Bucky wondered. You sheepishly shook your head. “Alright, I’ll go whip something up.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Be right back.”

~~~

Once Bucky was sure that you were fed and that you had some medicine down you, Bucky climbed into bed with you. He knew that you were in pain so he kept to his side of the bed.

“Bucky?” You whispered.

“Yes, doll?” He responded.

“Can you hold me?”

“Are you sure? I don’t—“

“Please. You won’t hurt me. I promise.”

Bucky moved closer and carefully wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you into him. “This okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your face. “I love you, you know that? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

“I love you so much, Buck… thank you for coming home to help me.”

“Always, doll. I will always come home, for whatever reason.”

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

She's My Kid | Wooyoung

- Pairing: step-dad!Wooyoung x Mum!Reader

- Requested by: requested by @starsfly01091711

- Synopsis: Part two of Chosen Appa. Hannie's biological father tries to come back into the picture.

- Warnings: Mentions of asshole ex-husband and Hannie's biological dad, lawyers, custody. Sorry if this is a little angsty. I needed to write some angst.

- Word Count: 1,421

- Requests: open

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Y/N arrives home to find a large white envelope taped to her front door. A sinking feeling enters her stomach as she recognizes the stamp in the corner that belongs to her ex-husband's lawyer.  

She takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the envelope. a reminder of a past she had put behind her. Unlocking the door, she carries the envelope, a bag of groceries and the baby carrier inside. She leaves the bag of food and envelope on the kitchen counter, unable to bring herself to open it just yet and tends to Hye-young, her and Wooyoung's three-month-old daughter. Once she's settled in her crib in the corner of the living room, she makes her way back into the kitchen to put away the food she brought. 

Stealing glances at the envelope, her stomach and heart feel heavy. She can only think of one reason why her ex-husband is reaching out to her after all this time. It’s been 5 years since she’s heard anything from him. Five years since he left her for his mistress and five years since he abandoned Hannie, completely cutting his own daughter out of his life for a woman and child that probably wasn’t even his. Y/N is no longer angry at him or hurt that he divorced her. She was able to find love again after all. It was Hannie that her heart breaks for. She understands the pain it brings not having your own biological father love you enough to stick around. Y/N knows that pain all too well.   

But just like when she was a child, there's a man who stood into the father role as if they were born for it. Someone who loves her more than himself and she calls him dad. Wooyoung didn’t have to, he keeps reminding her that he knows he didn’t have to. He wanted to.  

Instead of opening it, she pours herself a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table, glancing at the clock. Wooyoung is due home with Hannie any moment now. It's his day to pick the now six year old up from school. Not even a second later, the familiar sound of the keypad lock unlocking is heard.  

“Eomma! I’m home!” Hannie calls out, bursting through the front door with Wooyoung right behind her. 

Y/N’s heart swells as she watches Wooyoung crouch down to help Hannie remove her shoes. Once her shoes are off, she makes a beeline for her mum, climbing into her lap and giving her tight hug, not knowing that it's what Y/N needs the most right now.  

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, moving a strand of hair out of her daughter's face when she pulls back from the hug. 

Hannie nods. "Miss Lee made sticker packs for everyone and said we can use them on our new project," she excitedly tells her mum. 

Y/N smiles at Hannie's enthusiasm, feeling the warmth of her daughter's joy wash over her like a comforting blanket. “That sounds amazing! What’s the project about?” she asks, hoping to keep the conversation light and cheerful.  

“It’s about animals!” Hannie exclaims. “I wanted to do mine on penguins, but Yuri got the penguin sticker pack, so I chose squ-squ-," she continues trying to pronounce squirrel but ultimately gives up and says, "Uncle Joong because he's one of those.” 

"I'm sure Uncle Joong will feel honoured you chose the squirrel," Y/N chuckles lightly. "Go put your bag away and I'll make you something to eat," she kindly orders her daughter, helping her off her lap. She watches as Hannie picks up her bag and takes it into her bedroom. 

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asks his wife as soon as Hannie is out of the room. He knew something was wrong the moment he walked inside. The look in her eyes when she put on a smile for Hannie only confirmed that something wasn't right.  

She stands up and makes her way to the kitchen counter, picking up the envelope and handing it to him. "I haven't brought myself to open it yet." 

Wooyoung takes it from her, looking at the fancy law firm stamp in the corner. Wooyoung’s brow furrows as he examines the envelope, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface. “This is from your ex-husband’s lawyer?” he asks, his voice low and careful, as if afraid that Hannie will overhear them. Y/N nods, a lump forming in her throat. "Do you want me to open it?" 

She nods again. 

Wooyoung tears open the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. His eyes quickly scan the words on the page, his own heart sinking. "He's applying for custody," he tells her.  

Y/N feels the world around her tilt on its axis as Wooyoung's words sink in. "Custody?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. Even though this is what she was expecting, it being the only reason why her ex-husband and Hannie's biological father would reach out now, it's still surprising. 

Wooyoung looks up from the letter, his expression one of fierce protectiveness. “He hasn’t been in her life since she was a baby, Y/N. What does he think he can just waltz back in and—” 

“Wooyoung,” she interrupts gently, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “I know. I feel the same way.” Her mind races with memories of how hard she fought to create a loving home for Hannie after everything fell apart. “But, biologically-.” 

“I don’t care about biology,” Wooyoung says, frustration creeping into his voice. “She's my kid... our kid.” 

“I know,” Y/N replies softly, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "He's a complete stranger to her but the courts won't see it that way." 

Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his face. “We need to fight this,” he says, determination igniting in his eyes. “I’m not going to let him take her away from us.” 

“I know,” Wooyoung replies gently as he tries to calm himself down, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Y/N's waist. He pulls her against him, grounding them both amidst the storm brewing inside their hearts. “But we can’t let him just walk back in and claim what he hasn’t wanted for years.” 

Y/N leans into Wooyoung’s warmth, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “You’re right,” she murmurs softly, looking up at him with gratitude shining in her eyes. “But… it’s just hard to think about what this could mean for Hannie if things go south. She's going to be so lost and confused.” 

"Maybe it's time we tell her everything, that way if it does go to court, she might be a little less confused," he suggests. 

“You’re right,” she concedes, pulling back enough to look at him. “But how do we even begin to explain all of this to her?” 

Wooyoung holds her gaze, his eyes filled with warmth and determination. “We’ll figure it out together," he assures her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

"Eomma, Appa, look what I made today," Hannie's sweet voice calls to them as she walks back into the kitchen. "Look it's you Appa and Eomma and me and Hye-youngie and our cat," she exclaims, holding up a drawing of her little family with a little cat next to them. 

Wooyoung tries to blink back the tears hearing her call him Appa. “Wow!” he exclaims, leaning forward to get a better look. “Is that us?”  

“Yes!” she beams, her face lighting up with pride. “And that’s our kitten,” she adds, pointing to the little cat again.  It’s her latest attempt at trying to convince her parents to add a kitten to their family.  

Y/N smiles warmly as she moves to make Hannie her after-school snack. "But we don't have a kitten. 

“Can we get one? Please?” Hannie pleads, her big brown eyes sparkling with hope.  

Wooyoung chuckles softly, “I don’t see why we can’t.”  

Hannie’s eyes widen in delight, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Really?”  

“But you’ll have to help with taking care of him or her. That means helping with feeding the kitten, cleaning out the dirt box, making sure there’s plenty of water and all that comes with having a cat,” Y/N tells her, letting her know that since she wants a kitten, she will also be responsible for the tiny creature.  

“I promise!” Hannie exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.   

Wooyoung smiles, “That’s sorted then. We’ll start looking for a kitten this weekend.” 

@carattinymoa - @ateezswonderland - @forever-atiny - @choppedballoondetective - @rainyday-daydreamer 

@ultrapinkvoidbouquet - @reiofsuns2001 - @alexxavicry - @hollxe1 - @bookswillfindyouaway

@http-gyu - @deltamoon666 - @astuteataraxy - @everythingboutkpop - @jaymiwrld

@life-is-a-game-of-thrones - @carattinymoakpopficrecs - @kpopdramaficrecs - @nochelunaxx

[quandledlngle69]

GUESS WHOOOO ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

its the anon with whipped cream a cherry ontopand rainbow sprinkles again.

I js wanna thank you for feeding me so well with the kaiser drabble your highness i am forever in your gratitude

and may i or may i not pretty please take over the 🍡 emoji as my batsignal THANKYEEEWW٩(ᐛ)و

i also come with more demands😈😈

Can i get uhhhanother kaiser x reader where uuuhhh uhmmm kaiser is being the little toxic german boy he is but reader is a lot more independent and smart than he thinks and defends herself and uhhhh he actually fell for reader a bit more when it happened and then he dramatically begged reader to take him back pretty please (ᗒUᗕ)

・. ★ OMG OMG HI ANON ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜.ᐟ Yes you can be the 🍡 emoji as your batsignal :P Your demands have been met 😈 i proof read this like three times but if theres any mistakes lmk!

☆ CONTENT: Kaiser see's the fact you won't fall into his trap of manipulation and being money-dependant on him, it boils over when he gets jealous watching you talk to a male designer at one of his events and says you'd be better off single, you take him seriously and leave, and he comes crawling back, grovelling at your feet. How could you not forgive him? ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Kaiser being a dick, accusations of flirting and cheating. Kaiser trying to manipulate and gaslight reader, reader not tolerating his bullshit and seeing right through him, reader standing on business until the end, suggestive nature of oral in the end, Kaiser being soooo fucking pathetic and apologetic at the end and reader taking advantage of that. kinda oc kaiser (?) Schatzi – 'sweetheart/darling.' Engel – 'angel.' ☆ W.C. 1.5K

Michael Kaiser is the complete opposite of a green flag. Beige bordering on red if you were being nice.

You followed what your mother told you–don’t ever get too comfortable, don’t rely on a man for money, be polite–not sweet. And don’t settle for less than what you deserve.

This is what made Michael Kaiser interested in you. He was always confused when you didn’t seem completely ecstatic when he would whisk you to fancy 5 star restaurants, or when your wrist and neck were adorned with gems and stones worth more than six months of your salary. And don’t even get him started when you guys hit the one year mark, he made a sly off–hand comment that you should quit your job, that he could afford and provide whatever lifestyle you wanted and more.

You blinked at him, and with such genuine concern in your voice, you asked him if he had drunk too much of that wine you got for your anniversary. 

You would always thank him for his gifts and for spoiling you, but it would never go beyond that. You never asked him for more, never expected him to do more, and that set off a challenge in his brain. But no matter how bad he tried to convince you, manipulate you into seeing his perspective, you refused to put yourself in his hands completely, just a thread in the breeze he would never be able to fully grasp.

He may be subtle with his manipulation and gaslighting, but one thing he wasn’t subtle about was his emotional maturity. 

“You two were so close, it's adorable.”

“The sarcasm’s not needed, Mihya.”

You could hear him tsk under his breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder than before. A quiet sigh left your lips, turning away to look out the window, the blurs of other cars and lights whizzing by. The roar of the car's engine a low hum, the music on the radio a mere whisper. You had just left another one of Kaiser’s sports events, you had accidentally bumped into a known fashion designer you were a fan of. The conversation mostly consisted of you gushing over the designer's works and what upcoming fashion pieces he was doing. But it was clear from the way Kaiser was being over–the–top sarcastically sweet when you had headed back over, he didn’t see it that way.

“I’m jus’ saying.” He mumbled as he casually side–eyed you, a smirk on his lips, but it wasn’t cocky, it was soured with jealousy. “I'm glad you two were enjoying yourselves. Maybe next time you'll sneak a little make out session behind the curtain, before he takes you up to his hotel for the ni–”

‘–Are you really this insecure?” you interrupted in disbelief, head whipping around to face him, but he kept his eyes on the road, completely ignoring you. 

He shrugged, like your words weren’t even worth thinking about. “Not insecure schatzi, I’m just telling you what it looks like. His eyes were practically devouring you.”

“He was making eye contact and paying attention to me because we were having a conversation, Mihya.” You argued, rummaging through your bag to scroll through your phone, hoping to distract yourself from getting too heated at his audacity. 

He wasn’t used to girls bluntly defending themselves, he was used to the apologises, the feeding into his cracked view of being loyal, him being the only man they talked to outside of family. But you weren’t having any of it, you would tell him exactly what his problem was and not back down from his outrageous accusations. Your words made his eye twitch, and it was if you were shrugging him off like a child throwing a mindless tantrum.

“Well maybe its better if your single–if your gonna keep eye–fucking and flirting with random men all night, right?”

Your chin instantly retreated towards your chest, your manicured nails on your chest in a taken aback manner, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape at his pure audacity. There's pure silence before the car pauses at a red light, and without hesitation, you grasp your purse, the high–pitched sound of your seat belt unbuckling makes his head sharply turn towards you.

His voice is strained, “what are you–”

‘–I completely agree, it is totally better.” you shrugged in the same manner he did a moment before as you opened the door. He wasn’t quick enough to grab your arm before you were already out, shimming your short dress down before slamming the door of his sports car, making the car shake. You didn’t look back once as you walked away, following the path of the zebra crossing, ignoring the people watching from their cars and the sidewalk. Kaiser watched your back get smaller and smaller like a deer in headlights. His jaw slack, his whole body completely frozen in the driver seat. 

When he got home, he tried calling you before hearing it go straight to voicemail.

You had blocked him. 

He waited for you to unblock him, but you didn’t. He waited for you to at least pull up to his penthouse, to come get the stuff you left. But you didn’t. 

At first, he didn’t want to swallow his pride. He was stubborn, he didn’t grovel, it was the opposite way round, it was him who was the forgiving one, who relished in the begging. The hours became days, the days becoming weeks, the weeks becoming a month.

He cracked at the two month mark.

You had just come back from another failed date, some idiot that only blabbed on about wanting a trad wife and four kids, plus ordering way too much wine for it to be appropriate for a first date. You were a little tipsy, but nothing too hard. You make it to your apartment door, the jingling of keys filling your ears before the creak of your door opening. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you before kicking your heels off, sighing in satisfaction that the throbbing at the back of your heel had faded into a dull ache. You throw your bag somewhere, but your body goes into a standstill when your eyes notice the familiar but out of place shoes on the floor.

You knew those un–creased blue jordan 4’s anywhere.

Your eyes snapped up to the light emitting from your bedroom that you didn’t notice before. You rolled your eyes internally, your bare feet making careful steps on the wooden floorboards before walking into the room. 

Your bed was covered in boxes of luxury brands–Chanel, YSL, Lululemon, Dior, Prada–

And the man himself, who immediately got up when he saw you, taking in your form. You could tell he knew you had been on a date of some sorts, but he doesn’t comment on it. He looks more tired, the circles under his eyes a bit darker since the last time you saw him. Your lips opened to say something, ask him why he was here, how he got in, the words ‘you need to leave’ on the tip of your tongue. 

However, the built up words disperse into nothing as Kaiser sinks to his knees in front of you, his arms snaking around your calves, his hands on the back of your thighs, one of them dangerously close to brushing under your mini skirt. A small yelp leaves you at the sudden action, a hand shooting out on the open door,  grabbing it to steady yourself. 

“Kaiser–”

“I’m sorry, Engel.”

His apology takes you completely off guard, the sudden swallow of pride has you suspicious, but it disappears from the sincerity in his small voice. He’s latched onto you like a man drowning at sea, and you doubt he would let go even if you asked him to. His cheek pressed against your lower thigh, his sharp cobalt eyes dulled with feverishly longing and vulnerability, pupils so blown that it made you shiver. 

“I was being an asshole, engel, wasn’t I? I was pushing your buttons, and–and I'm sorry. I miss you.”

Maybe it was him being on his knees in front of you, begging you oh so sweetly–so desperately, it made a certain heat spark in you, and all thoughts of kicking out disappeared. You groaned internally, you were supposed to be standing on business! But… 

It was the way he was looking at you so feverishly, the ustulation of lust swirling behind his blonde lashes that had you biting your lower glossy lip.

Your lungs stuttered at the sight, a faulted breath leaving your lips as your hand slowly slicked his hair back, his sharp features much more prominent in the dim light. Your mind going blank.

“Show me, then.” You breathed in a heavy, thick tone, not missing the way his adam's apple bobbled slightly as he swallowed. “Show me how much you missed me, Mihya.”

His rough fingertips hiked up your skirt, curling around the hem of your lace panties, unhurriedly pulling them down. 

No words were spoken, because actions speak louder than words, right?

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[hannahssimblr]

Back home, the cats emerge from their shadowed pockets as I haul my bicycle into the building. My new friends, two stray cats I’ve named Main Street and Ten Feet Behind—on account of the fact that one is always wandering the main street, and the other is always like ten feet behind her, just kind of watching. I give them food, usually, just bits from my breakfast, or the leftovers of some half-eaten ham sandwich inside my pocket, but today I'm empty handed. Bringing nothing home from the café today but a scald. 

My hand’s red now, like a boiled lobster, feeling every tiny crease and movement of my skin in a way that makes me oddly nostalgic for summer. For a sunburn across a nose, stinging when you wrinkle it. Leave the bike by the stairs and head up. A new apartment. Still getting used to it. Different tile on the stairs and a new echo in the foyer. 

We left Kreuzberg last month on account of the expense and hauled ourselves all the way to Neukolln. Almost an hour to cycle to college from here, and not much faster on the train. I cycle everywhere anyway. It’s free, and the fresh air does me good. At least that’s what I tell myself, so I feel better about it. 

“I am happy to move,” Jonas said as we packed up our things. “I never liked living among all the landlady’s items. Now we can have our own space.” And we do, and it’s smaller with lower ceilings and thinner walls, and we have very little to fill it. For weeks we’ve been using pillows in place of a couch. Both of us, sitting there with sore backs on the floor of a near empty room to watch the ultra HD TV I bought last year for six hundred quid. It seems to encapsulate my month perfectly. 

Today, Dalia is here. Those are her boots outside the door. We now live closer to her than any of our other friends, much to her delight. “Nobody ever visited me out here,” she said, bringing over a home cooked meal for us before we had set our kitchen up. “I’m genuinely so glad to have someone to visit in the area.”

And visit she does, every couple of days now, hanging around, eating Chinese food on the floor with us, bare feet stretched out on the floorboards. Ranting about politics. Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan and whatever, filling the empty apartment with her loud, American voice. A racket that brings specific comfort. A safety about it. My cousins in Albuquerque chatting in the kitchen, voices ricocheting off the Spanish tiles. 

“...equal pay for equal work,” she’s saying now. Audible from the door. In the living area, Jonas is on the floor with her, back against the kitchen counter, nodding intently so she knows he's feminist, too. 

“Jesus Christ, your hand.” Dalia stares in alarm. “What happened to you?”

I hold it up like a dead fish. “Boiled it.”

“And they let you come home like that?”

“Kind of.”

She’s up then, and I’m trailing her into the bathroom. She’s rifling through a cabinet. “They’re fucking assholes,” she bites out. “This is the second time you’ve been burned, huh?”

“Yep.”

She mutters expletives under her breath, and moments later, produces gauze and bandages.

“All that?” I say. 

“Does it hurt as bad as it looks?”

“Well, it hurts.”

“Then sit down out there and I’ll help you out.”

Back in the kitchen, I get onto the floor with Jonas while she works on me. Taking my hand. A shock of cold as she applies a burn gel to tender skin. Gauze. So gentle. I feel like a baby. 

“Fuck that shithole job,” she says. “You could sue them for this.”

“It’s alright, I quit.”

“Good. You gave your notice?”

“Nah. I just left.”

Jonas, then. “You left? You mean you walked away?”

“Yeah. I threw my apron off and headed out.”

“Hm,” he says, a frown appearing. 

“What?”

“Well, it is not exactly best practice. You are supposed to give notice. Give them time to find a replacement.”

I scoff, turning my bandaged wrist in my hand. “Or what?”

My question appears to confuse him. “Well, this is the rule.”

Let my eyes slide back to Dalia. The queen of emotive outrage. Anti-establishment this, communism that, and whatever, but she’s nodding along solemnly. “Yeah, honestly, it looks pretty bad. You shouldn’t have done that.”

I scoff and remind them both I am a grown man with free will, but their faces remain grim.

“Eventually you’re gonna need a reference,” Dalia points out. “Your resume will have all these places you worked at, but nobody to vouch for you. It looks sketchy.”

“Right, well, doing it once is okay.”

Nobody says anything, so I pretend I’m correct. Hate being wrong, but hate too, that uncomfortable sense everyone is afraid to oppose me. They’re confusing. Agreeing it was a shithole job a minute ago, now saying that leaving without giving notice was unfair. They’re ganging up on me, really. That’s what they’re doing now. And when I have a burned hand and all. Dalia sees my face and changes the subject. 

“I heard you’re taking Astrid to the cinema this week.”

Ah, yes, the cinema. The peak of our week lately. It takes me almost two hours to earn the twelve euro our tickets cost, so I make her buy her own snacks. It pisses her off enough that she doesn’t share the popcorn with me, even though I ask. A couple weeks ago, I ate a kernel that fell into the crease between the armrest and my seat, and didn’t even regret it. 

“Yeah. The film with Brad Pitt in it.”

“So fun.”

I shift restlessly. A sudden resentment for all of it. Irritation comes like this these days, in bursts, spurred by exhaustion, all the micro moments of the day culminating into my ultimate swirling fury at the state of my life. When I bite my tongue with a rude customer, the noise a metal chair makes when I bump into it, wet jeans after cycling in the rain. Pissed off now about the cinema, that infernal croissant woman at the café, and the way I have to sit on the floor in my own apartment because we haven’t bought a fucking couch yet. Rage quick and hot. Yeah. So fun. The cinema. Cycling there for like an hour, then sitting for two in complete silence. Going back to hers, then, always hers, where she makes me take off my trousers before sitting on her bed because they’re touched public seating, or whatever, and there’s never anything to eat for breakfast. 

“Does she ever visit you out here?” I say, hearing the edge in my voice. “Astrid, like.”

Dalia laughs dryly. “She doesn’t come to Neukolln. Every single time I’ve seen her in the last two years, it’s been in the city, or at her place. She won’t come the whole way out here.”

“Wow. Yeah. That’s what I thought. That’s really nice.”

A thin smile. “Yeah, well, you know how it is.”

I shrug my shoulders. Thinking of her the other week after college when I asked her back with me. “Are you ever going to see my new apartment?” I said, and she just laughed. “Maybe when I have time.” Knowing on a deep level she wouldn’t actually make it. This is just admitting it aloud. Confirmation of a quiet fear. “Thought she might come for me, is all.”

“She might.” I can tell she's trying her best to sound hopeful. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Right.” I’ve had enough. I get up and trudge towards my room, Jonas calling out to me as I go. “We are thinking we will go to the bar later with Elias if you’d like to come.”

I look around at them, huddled there on the kitchen floor with those uncomfortable looks upon their faces, grimaces, almost. Hoping I’ll turn them down. Nobody wants this energy at the bar. “No. I’m going to lie on my bed.” I mutter, and kick the door behind me. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[onlybeeewrites]

Easy to Blame

Request: Darling....can I request a fic of xaden ....where the reader is her sister and he and other marked ones don't like her due to some reason...but then she's a goddamn badass and yeah make it angsty as hell(I don't know if this makes sense)

Pairings: Xaden Riorson x sister!reader, Marked ones x Reader, sort of Sawyer x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, cannon accurate violence, targeted hated, cursing, life threats, past deaths, misdirected hatred and grief, bad parenting.

A/N: This is where my mind went with this request! Hopefully you all enjoy it ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the guilt clung to you like a second skin, thick and suffocating. A burden and weight that seems to be placed rather unfairly onto your shoulders. As each and every step through the halls of Basgiath War College was met with narrowed eyes, cold glares, and the ever-present whispers that followed like a specter.

It didn’t matter who you passed in the halls. It didn’t matter when. Didn’t matter who you sat with in class or in the dining hall. The other cadets in your year would see the swirling dark tattoo on your left arm and lift their noses at you. While other marked ones would do the very same thing.

They didn’t trust you.

No one trusted you.

He didn’t trust you.

Xaden Riorson had made sure of that.

Your older brother—the only family you had left—had turned his back on you the moment you arrived at the college when you were old enough. His expression carved from stone, his voice sharp enough to cut. You had known it would be difficult. You had expected anger, the frustration, even the resentment.

But this? This was something worse.

You wasn’t just unwanted. You were avoided. You were the enemy. To everyone.

“Stay the hell out of my way.”

His voice was ice, cutting through the tension between them like a blade. And cut through you like shards.

You had found him in the training yard, surrounded by the Marked Ones in his squad, his second-in-command Garrick, your old friend, leaning against a post while Bodhi, your cousin, didn’t even look at you. While Imogen crossed her arms, regarding her with a mixture of distrust and disdain.

But ever so determined, you lifted your chin. It had been almost two months since you had gotten there. Almost two months and he still refused to even give you two minutes of his time. And yet you refusing to shrink under their scrutiny. “I’m not your enemy, Xaden. I’m your sister. You’d think after six years you’d know that. I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m here to,”

He scoffed. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” Interrupting your sentence

That had hurt. Had it been too late? You could feel your stomach twisted. You had prepared herself for hostility, but hearing it aloud—from him—still hurt. Hurt more than expected. That was your brother.

But in that moment you had never more like a stranger.

Garrick sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Look, it’s not personal—”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Xaden cut in, his jaw clenched. He took a step toward you, his voice lowering to something dangerous. “Because of you, our father is dead. Because of you, our mother walked away from us. Had you just been a little more helpful, things wouldn’t be this fucking difficult,” he said. His voice filled with pure distain, pure hatred and anger.

His words hit like a punch to the ribs.

You had only been fourteen years old, just barely understanding what was even happening when their father was executed for his rebellion along with the other leaders. You had stood there, frozen, tears streaming down her face while Xaden held her hand so tightly it hurt.

But it was your mother who shattered everything.

It had been before the rebellion. Years before. Right after Xaden’s birthday. She had tucked you both in at bed that night. Told you both how much she loved you. Kissed you both so lovingly and softly. And the next morning?

Gone.

No note. No explanation. Just a home that felt empty and wrong.

Xaden had never forgiven her for that. Neither had you.

And now, surrounded by the people who would die for him, who would follow him into battle without hesitation, he made sure they all knew where she stood.

“She can’t be trusted,” he had told them. “Keep your distance.”

And they had listened.

The isolation was suffocating.

It was a permanent weight in you chest that was always threatening your mind constantly.

You were used to whispers, but the silence was worse. The Marked Ones didn’t speak to you unless necessary. They didn’t train with you. If you tried to spar, they found someone else. If you sat down at a table, they left.

Even the others followed their lead.

Even your squad. They put up with you when they had to. But that was it.

Sawyer was the only one who seemed indifferent, watching her with something like curiosity rather than outright hatred. At least she had him. Sawyer was sweet.

But Xaden?

Xaden didn’t look at you at all.

And that was worse than all of it.

It was months past, presentation and threshing was just around the corner—or just over the gauntlet.

The Gauntlet loomed in the distance above them, an unforgiving structure of swinging beams, crumbling platforms, and gaps that seemed impossible to cross.

Failure meant death.

And you weren’t about to fail.

The morning of the run, whispers followed her as she strapped on her training leathers. Echoed whispers surrounded them around the dining hall and through the halls out side.

“She’ll fall.”

“She won’t even make it halfway.”

“She should’ve never been allowed here in the first place.”

“She won’t make it past threshing.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You ignored them.

You had to.

You couldn’t allow those thoughts to take over. You couldn’t let them be right.

All the odds were against you. Abandoned and ignored by your brother. Ignored and shunned by your family from a decision that you truly had no part of. It wasn’t your fault. In the big grand scheme of things, it was not your fault. But that didn’t matter.

Because in their minds, and in Xaden’s, it was your fault. Everything. Was. Your. Fault.

And that guilt? That unfair burden? That would always remain as long as Xaden blamed you for everything.

It had been months now after parapet. Threshing was in a few weeks. Presentation. But first was the Gauntlet.

Xaden stood at the top with Garrick, arms crossed as he surveyed the cadets. If he heard the murmurs, he didn’t acknowledge them. His dark eyes narrowing down the course at his wing as the other sections and squads prepared to do their practice runs before the timed trials.

Practicing for when threshing was finally around. The test for a chance to prove themselves worthy. Worthy enough to make it past presentation, they’d need all these skills. To ride your dragons. If you made it that far, at least.

The course was grueling. Designed to push cadets past their limits. Designed with dragons in mind for each obstacle. Designed to weed out the weak ones.

And so here you were. Standing in the front of the line for your squad, just behind Sawyer. First squad was finishing up ahead of you. The first few competitors barely made it over the first swinging bridge before slipping to their deaths. Others hesitated at the crumbling stones, losing precious time.

Then it was time for your squad. Sawyer went first, his agility unmatched as he maneuvered through the course with a speed no one could match. It was probably because he had done this before.

Sawyer was a repeat, as you had learned. He had gone through all this last year.

Then it was your turn.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, but you shoved the nerves down. You didn’t have the luxury of fear. You couldn’t afford to feel. Not now. Not in front of the rest of your Squad, the

As the signal to begin echoed through the training grounds, you launched yourself forward with unwavering resolve.

The first obstacle, a towering vertical wall, stood as an imposing sentinel. Without hesitation, you sprinted toward it, you steps light and measured. Utilizing your momentum, you leaped, you fingers gripping the edge with practiced precision. With a controlled pull, she swung her leg over and descended smoothly, barely pausing before advancing to the next challenge.

The rotating wheel loomed ahead, a notorious obstacle that had bested many cadets. Timing her approach, you synchronized your movements with the wheel’s rotations. With a swift, calculated jump, you grasped a handle and swung yourself to the other side, landing in a crouch before springing forward without losing momentum.

A series of balance beams awaited, each narrowing mean. You navigated the beams with grace. Your arms subtly adjusting to maintain equilibrium. Your focus was absolute, gaze fixed ahead, blocking out the murmurs of onlookers and the weight of expectations.

Next came the rope climb. Seizing the coarse rope, you ascended hand over hand, you movements fluid and efficient. Reaching the summit, you tapped the marker and descended in controlled slides, your feet touching the ground with barely a sound.

The next challenge, the chimney climb, required both strength and strategy. Positioning yourself between the narrow walls, you used opposing pressure to “walk” upward, your movements steady and controlled.

The final challenge was the huge steep wall. The one to run up, the challenge that simulates climbing up the dragon leg to ride. And just above it was where your brother was.

Taking a deep breath, you backed up. Backing up as far as she possibly could. This was where she proved them all wrong. And then. Suddenly, you bolted forward. Using all the strength she had, she spent it into and bolted up the wall. Your feet pressed against the wall as you pushed yourself up and up and up until your hand reached the lip of the curve.

With all the strength you had left, you pulled yourself over the edge. Your body was pulled over with the last bit of your strength as finally your right leg got pulled over. And a soft click of the stop watch sounded in your ears.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd as you finished hauling yourself over the edge.

Garrick’s voiced cleared before he read your time aloud.

Second place.

Second place.

Only second to Sawyer.

The silence stretched, heavy and stunned, before someone let out a low whistle. And then some hushed mumbling.

You got to your feet before you turned, locking eyes with Xaden. Onyx eyes, locking with onyx eyes. Sweat dripping down your skin.

For the first time since you had arrived, he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

And for a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you saw something crack in his expression. Something uncertain. Looking like you big brother again. But there was something else.

Something like doubt.

But then he turned away, jaw tightening.

He didn’t congratulate you.

Didn’t acknowledge what you had done.

But he couldn’t ignore it, either.

You weren’t weak.

Just like Xaden, you were a Riorson.

And you were a goddamn force to be reckoned with.

[jessicas-pi]

For the ask game, "arranged marriage+secret identity+eloping aka basically eloping with someone you're already engaged to, but you didn't *know* you were engaged to them. Back home their parents are facepalming in exasperation because *both* of them just eloped with *each other*" AU with, of course, Sabine and Ezra. Please

I was a little stumped on this at first, but then I got INSPIRATION and speedwrote half of this in one night! And then I procrastinated for six months before writing the other half also in one night! 😅

btw, this is set in my Jedi Get Hitched AU (here's links to part one and part two for reference), which was not originally a sabezra au... but when it comes to me, if I am given the opportunity, anything can be a sabezra au (and a very long one, apparently... oops...)

--

Ursa Wren would like to state, for the record, that it was incredibly difficult to arrange a marriage alliance with the Jedi Order, and people really ought to start giving her a little more credit for pulling it off.

She wouldn't have considered it at all, except that clan tensions were rising (again), and as there had already been one recent Jedi-Mandalorian intermarriage, Ursa concluded that it really would be handy to have a lot of space warrior monks with laser swords as one's in-laws, should things come to war.

So, she got to work on it.

First, there was that message to the Jedi Council—and their reply, which explained that the Council's role in a Jedi marriage was really more of a permission thing than an arrangement thing and that the Jedi did not actually set up marriages with politicians and planetary rulers, it was just that they had an unfortunate habit of falling in love with them, so they wouldn't be arranging any betrothals or anything of the sort, but that if some day in the future, either of Ursa's children should form a mutual affection with one of the Jedi Order, they could certainly consider it.

Then Ursa had to go about trying to ensure that one of her children did form a "mutual affection" with a Jedi, which she started by bringing her family to Coruscant for a vacation and finding an excuse to tour the Jedi Temple. Tristan, she dismissed after just one afternoon visiting the Jedi Archives to explore their section on Mandalore—he went out of his way to be antagonistic to the Jedi, and the visit ended with a sweet-faced, doe-eyed twelve-year-old girl slam-tackling him to the ground in a blind fury. There was clearly no future alliances to be made regarding him.

But Sabine, Ursa considered. After all, she was more inclined to get along with the Jedi in general. And that Padawan that gave them a tour did seem a little smitten...

Perhaps it was coincidence and perhaps it wasn't—perhaps, indeed, someone on the Jedi Council had a sense of humor about things—because when a Jedi was requested to attend a peace conference on Krownest, who should show up but this same Padawan and his Jedi Master?

The Jedi Master made eye contact with Ursa , and shot her a wink with a nod towards his Padawan, who was gaping goggle-eyed at Sabine.

Oh, yeah, she thought, giving him a subtle nod of acknowledgement and the hint of a smirk. They know.

The conference lasted a few days, and Ursa instructed Sabine to take an interest in the boy. He's our guest, she'd said, and the rest of Clan Wren certainly isn't going to make him feel welcome. Do me a favor and take pity on the boy, would you? Make him feel like there's at least one person in the fortress who wouldn't wring his neck if they got the chance.

Sabine had rolled her eyes and saluted sarcastically, because she was fourteen and sarcasm was her language, but Ursa observed that she did her best to help the Padawan. By the last day, she and the boy were even passing notes to each other.

When the conference was over, Ursa slid into the shadows with the stealth of a well-trained Nite Owl, and watched the two. The boy broke away from his Master and slipped up to Sabine, darting through the crowd. He was only by her for a second—just long enough to stuff a scrap of flimsi into her hand and blurt out, "Call me!" and add on a "Please!" as he tripped backwards into the bustle of people, heading back to his Master.

Ursa saw Sabine eye the paper with a look of incredulous amusement, and her heart sunk. That flimsi was headed straight into the wastebasket, no doubt of it. So, Ursa acted quickly.

"I hope you're not going to keep that," she said dryly, stepping up to look over Sabine's shoulder. Her daughter jumped, crumpling the flimsi in her hand as if she could hide it. Ursa just arched an unimpressed eyebrow at her. "Take my advice, and don't bother being friends with a Jedi."

As Sabine's choice of friends was something Ursa nagged her about often, Ursa thought the idea was particularly genius. There was no way Sabine was getting rid of that number now—if only out of sheer spite.

It turned out, that was all Ursa ever needed to do. Sabine and the boy did the rest.

By the time she was sixteen, Sabine had casually brought up going to Coruscant "to see the Mandalore collection in the Jedi Archives" again at least four times, and when Ursa and Alrich did arrange the trip, the blue-eyed boy just so happened to be the one giving them the tour again. Ursa did not miss the way he and Sabine seemed to isolate themselves, standing side-by-side with their heads together for brief moments of whispered talk, interspersed with giggles.

When she was eighteen, Sabine actually insisted on going to Coruscant once again, this time specifically to see the boy. Apparently, that cockroach of a Sith had managed to escape his holding cell in the Jedi Temple, and on his way out, he badly injured the boy's Master. Sabine said—with no room for disagreement—that Ezra needs all the friends he can get right now, Mother.

(Ursa pretended to be very inconvenienced by it all, and announced that Sabine would have to go on her own.)

(Sabine clearly didn't mind.)

When she was twenty, Sabine brought up the idea of her attending an art school on Coruscant. Ursa allowed it.

When she came home, at twenty-two, there was a look in her eyes that spoke volumes—a look that said that home wasn't quite home anymore, that it was missing something, that it was missing someone.

There was something else different about her, as well. She wore a blue, crystalline jewel on a leather cord around her neck.

When Ursa asked what it was, Sabine explained—hastily, with a light flush and a little stammering—that it's nothing, really, just an old lightsaber crystal. Further questioning revealed that Ezra was the one to give it to her, and that it was his old lightsaber crystal, from the first lightsaber he made.

"Fascinating," Ursa remarked, wearing a mask of disinterest, and then bustled off to send another comm to the Jedi Council—this time asking them if there would be any problem with her daughter and that Jedi of hers marrying.

Their reply was short and concise.

Thank the Force, we were beginning to think you'd never ask.

~~~~

Sabine hadn't meant to fall in love.

She was the eldest child of the ruling family, and that meant she would need to marry logically. She could fall in love with her spouse once the vows were said and they were a team. Before then, it had to be all business. She wasn't going to get caught up in a romance with someone she could never really be with, and she wouldn't break her own heart.

But some things were just out of her control.

Her feelings for Ezra Bridger were one of those things.

Sabine didn't know when she started falling for him, but she realized it halfway down, and tried to find a way to stop it, but there was nothing to slow her fall, and she plummeted.

She fell and fell and fell, until the night before she left to go home, when Ezra gave her his old kyber crystal—and a soft kiss.

She ought to have pushed him away, but she didn't. Like a sentimental idiot, she'd melted into him, kissing him back, as fierce and heady as he'd been tender and sweet. And when both of them were so out of breath that they had to break apart, he'd whispered to her in a dazed wonder— "I think I love you."

Sabine hit rock bottom at full speed and shattered.

She couldn't live without him. She knew that now. He'd woven himself into her soul, and the idea of leaving him just then made her heart throb with regret.

But she had to go home, so she went, and he was in her thoughts every second of the way.

He was still in her thoughts at dinner that night—with the ghost of his embrace keeping her warm and the feel of his kiss still burning on her lips—when Mother brought up marriage.

Sabine barely heard the words her mother said. She knew this was coming. It was a surprise it hadn't happened sooner.

It would have been a mercy if it had happened sooner. Sabine wouldn't have known what she had to lose, then.

What she had to lose.

The thought brought a lump into her throat, making it hard to swallow, and her eyes started to sting.

Sabine rose, and asked to be excused, and didn't wait for an answer. She went back to her room, and because it was what she always did when she needed to talk, she called him.

"Mother thinks it's time for me to get married," she said.

"Oh."

Ezra's voice was hoarse and a little broken, and it broke her all the more. She said nothing in reply—her words were gone.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked her softly.

Sabine would have said that there was nothing he could do at all. But the kyber crystal strung around her neck was warm to the touch, and as she traced her fingertips lonesomely along the smooth planes of its surface, an idea came to her.

It was an idea so reckless, so wild, so entirely irresponsible that it was impossible.

But Sabine could work with impossible.

"Well," she said. "There is something."

----

Caleb had commed Hera last night and asked her to be here for this discussion with Ezra. Apparently, the Council had reached out to Caleb last night with a message from Countess Wren, wherein she said that she was pretty sure it would be agreeable to all parties concerned if her daughter and Caleb's Padawan tied the knot, and that they might want to be quick about suggesting it before the two just up and eloped together. Caleb had messaged Hera, then, asking her to help him explain the situation to Ezra—who had spent the last eight years stubbornly and consistently insisting that he and Sabine were only friends, and might need some persuading to own up to his own feelings.

But when Hera showed up at the boys' quarters in the Temple the next morning, Ezra was nowhere in sight, and Caleb was slouched back on the couch, wheezing with laughter.

"Love? What is it?"

Caleb was laughing too hard to answer, and he just held out a piece of flimsi to her, indicating that it was the source of his amusement.

She took it and sat down beside him, reading it twice through before the meaning of it fully sank in.

Dear Master, Do you think the Council will be very annoyed that I got married without their permission? Like, I already said the vows and everything so it won't make me call off the elopement if they will, but it would be nice to know that Master Windu won't give me the Eyebrows Of Disappointment look when I get back from the honeymoon. See you in a couple weeks! Ezra Wren (née Bridger)

Hera huffed a rueful laugh under her breath.

"Well. That simplifies things."

[fanfic-obsessed]

Aging the Past

Here’s another fun one that could dip into the angstier side of things if you choose to go there. 

As a reminder, expect no canon. 

What we start with is, through magic, Red Hood and Red Robin are deaged to 6 years old.  The deaging knocks them unconscious (because such magic should always knock the victim out), so no one knows if the deageing is only physical, or if their minds were deaged as well. They are quickly collected and brought back to the Batcave. Even the magic user, captured by Robin, was confused since that was not the magic that was cast. 

Now unknown to absolutely everyone, including Tim and Jason. When they were 6 years old, they were each abducted. 

In Jason’s case, Willis Todd had used Jason as collateral as a bet. Jason was taken in order to make sure that Willis would pay up. Thankfully Willis did, but Jason did spend three days in the company of a handful of goons who talked about selling him to the nearest rich pervert. Jason was young enough that he had forgotten the mild trauma by the time he became Robin. 

In Tim’s case, he was abducted by his Nanny at the time and sold to one of the gangs looking for ransom.  His abductors were never able to get in touch with the Drake parents. After about a week, during which much of the gang would talk loudly about selling him, one of the only sympathetic members of the gang (who felt very uncomfortable with trafficking, for all that he was ok with abduction) managed to manipulate everything so that he got Tim out and dropped him off at Drake manor. Tim, a very intelligent 6 year old, figures out how to contact the agency the Nanny came from (thankfully the nanny was simply a bad egg, the agency was not corrupt) and says that his nanny stopped showing up. The agency, which never realized they were being contacted by 6 year old Tim and not one of his parents, sent a new one. Three months later when the Drakes return they do not realize that the Nanny is different from the one when they left. 

I’m sure you have all guessed that the de aging, which was mental as well as physical, brought each of them back to these respective events.  They both wake up in the infirmary of the bat cave, and become instantly convinced that they have been sold by their respective abductors. They have no way of knowing that they think it is two entirely different years (Since Jason is actually two years older). 

The various bats wait for the deaged duo to wake up, no one quite sure what to expect. Given how badly Tim and Jason’s first meeting originally happened they were all geared up to have to separate two frightened, fighting children even if neither remembers. They were not prepared for these two children to instantly bond and escape the bat caves into one of the tunnels. 

It takes almost two hours for them to be found. 

During those two hours Jay and Tim bond like a pair of feral cats. Though 6 years old, Jason is well aware that he might not be able to go back home, for fear that Willis would give him right back to his abductors. Tim, to the extent that he is able for a six year old, makes plans to bring Jason home. 

To that end Tim decides that he and Jason will need to get married. Because married people live together and love each other and Tim already knows that he will love Jason. Jason agrees. 

After they are found it takes another three hours or so to convince them that they have not been sold. During this time both Jason and Tim bit Bruce and Stephanie. Jason had also attempted to fight Damian, who picked up Tim.  Tim inadvertently did psychic damage to Dick when he said something to the effect of ‘you look like Dick Grayson, or the flying Graysons, if Dick was old’. Jason and Tim are not told that they are de aged. 

It also becomes clear that Jason and Tim are smitten with each other, as only tiny children can be. Both talk about getting married when they get older.  Everyone, at different times, makes sure to save recordings for the surveillance cams to tease Red Hood and Red Robin with later. 

If we want to keep it light, it ends with the spell being broken, Jason and Tim returning to their correct age. They have their memories of that time, or even if they don’t they have plenty of recordings that their family shows them, and start dating not long after. A happily ever after is had by all. 

On the slightly angstier side:

The deaging is permanent. There is no way to undo the spell and if there is a way to retrieve Red Hood and Red Robin’s memories, it can only be done after they reach the age they were before (21 for Red Robin, 23 for Red Hood). Even then no one is sure. 

In a way it is lucky that the boys are young enough that they do not know what year it is supposed to be. They are also young enough that they can be distracted until they forget about their original families.  The decision is made to wait until they are at least late teens to tell them of their older selves. In the meantime Jason and Tim are adopted again, no hyphen to their names.  Jason Todd was never declared alive again, but Tim Drake-Wayne is listed as missing presumed dead after going on a trip to South America, just one more stupid American tourist becoming part of a horror movie. 

Now the Batfam as a whole is grieving Red Robin and Red Hood, while raising their younger selves. Adn trying not to let on that they are grieving. Even if they get their memories back, neither Tim nor Jason will be the same. They can’t be. They are going to have a minimum of 14 to 17 years of a different life. 

Bruce is straight up not able to adopt them. He breaks down entirely one night, a few days after they realize this is permanent. He is self aware enough to know that he would never be able to treat Tim and Jason as who they are now, and would always expect them to be who they had been. This is compounded by the realization that little boys with the name Jason or Tim anywhere near the name Wayne would, at best, make it seem like Jason Todd-Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne were being replaced. 

In the end, on paper, Stephanie adopts Tim while Barbara adopts Jason. In practice they do not separate the boys, who live in an apartment with Stephanie (in a building that was bought by Bruce) and Cass. Damian was actually much closer to the boys then he was to their older counterparts, feeling much more comfortable being their older brother than their younger brother.  Dick was an affectionate uncle, but there was also a distance because he had lost his brothers all over again.  Bruce and Alfred slotted into Grandpa and great Grandpa, respectively. 

It was obvious for anyone who knew them all before the deaging and after that there was still quite a bit of awkwardness and distance with Tim and Jason. Neither of the boys really noticed until they were older. 

So Jason and Tim grow up together. From the first they do not think of themselves like brothers. They decided that they would get married when they were old enough and never looked back.  They never actually look at anyone else either. For those who have ever watched ‘Boy Meets World’, they are Corey and Topanga as far as all of their civilian friends are concerned. Soulmates for the word go. Their wedding is planned for Jason’s 18th birthday (Since Tim was born in July and Jason was born in August, when they were deaged it made Jason slightly younger on paper) since they were 8 years old. 

Tim is just as intelligent and as observant as he always was, though his self confidence is much better. He does not need to wonder if he is loved. Jason loves him, he knows that. Tim is 12 when he realizes that all of the adults in their life act strange sometimes. When he starts to think that he disappoints the adults in weird ways. Jason and Tim had both known about their families night lives from basically the beginning, and Tim did not want to be a vigilante. Not even tech support. Though he does take to Self defence training well. This Tim also preferred fashion to photography(still very creative, but did not want to view the world through a lens) and was not interested in business or solving cases of any kind.  He wanted to use his observant nature to be a fashion designer.  

Jason is not a fighter. In fact any attempt to give any kind of fighting training beyond the most basic is firmly rebuffed.  He is still a huge literature nerd, though his preference is sci-fi rather than Regency Romance. Jason is also interested in Mechanical Engineering. Jason does become interested in the Vigilante life, but as support like Oracle.  He is also not as connected to Crime Alley as he was the first time around.  

By the time Jason and Tim are 15, several of their civilian friends (and they actually have more civilian friends than vigilante friends, the vigilantes all know what happened to Red Robin and Red Hood and tend to be awkward around Jason and Tim as a result) have commented on the strange reactions or looks that Jason and Tim’s families give sometimes. 

So just Jason and Tim growing, being different from who they were because of the differences in growing up (Stephanie flinched badly the first time Tim called her mom, Jason quickly following suit) and all of the Batfam and co struggling with the ways that the boys are different from who they were and the ways that they are still exactly like who they were. Particularly as they grow and start to look vaguely like who they had been. Just a whole Uncanny Valley effect over the course of years. 

They plan to tell the boys when they are 18 of who they had been. Unfortunately a sixteen year old Jason overhears an argument between Dick and Kon, who was an occasional figure in their lives, about finally telling them.  Every person who knew the boys before and after is conflicted about them getting their memories back.  By the time the boys are in their late teens it is so very obvious that they are happier now, without those memories. But at the same time, there are a lot of good memories that they have lost. 

Jason, after overhearing the argument, goes digging. When their files were locked down, not long after everyone realized that the spell was permanent, Barbara specifically locked the files down to be unhackable to Tim’s method of hacking. No one ever remembered to go back and secure it against Jason’s method of hacking. He gets in easily.  He finds Red Hood and Red Robin, everything. Naturally he brings it all back to Tim, his boyfriend and soulmate.  The Red Hood/ Red Robin reveal, with all it entailed, did not go over well. 

Part of the file included a few hours of various arguments that were had back and forth about letting them remember, casting a spell to force the memories, keeping them from remembering. In just about every configuration of vigilantes. Unfortunately, instead of conveying the difficult and complicated feelings everyone had around what happened, it conveyed that Jason and Tim had been kept around because they one day would become Red Hood and Red Robin (Not even Jason Todd and Tim Drake, but the vigilantes). 

Reacting like any other sixteen year olds, they ran to a friend's house with a story of finding out that they may have been adopted to replace people who died (they were not going to be able to explain everything and that would be the closest to what was going on).  The friends' parents, who had also observed some ways that the variety of Batfam (in their civilian guises) could react strangely to Jason and Tim ( and who realized Tim was starting to look an awful lot like Timothy Drake-Wayne and Jason was looking a lot like Jason Todd-Wayne), agree to let them stay for a while.  It takes six months for Stephanie and Cass to convince Tim and Jason to come home, that they loved the boys as their sons, not as the brothers they lost.  Jason decides that, ultimately, he does not want anything to do with being a vigilante after finding out about Red Hood. 

Jason and Tim do get married at 18, fully funded by Bruce (who was awkward, guilty, and willing to support anything either boy wanted-frankly their relationships were better with him as a grandfather than a father).  They are fully civilians by this point. 

Dealers choice if they get their memories back, and if they do, whether it changes anything. 

[howdeepthegrave]

Agathario AU where Wanda, Alice, and Lilia learn on a rather drunken Girls' Night that Agatha has not gotten laid in nearly a decade (the last time was four years before she had Nicky.) The crew make it their personal mission to get her into bed with someone within the next six months.

"Or what?" Agatha asks when they tell her. "I'll explode or something?"

"Well, getting laid might take down some of your bitchness a notch or two," Alice says.

"I'm not bitchy. I'm a perfectionist."

"Agatha, you once threatened to flatten a traffic cop for looking at you as you crossed the street."

"ACAB, Alice."

"Hey, I was..."

"You were a cop once, yes, I know. But you left the force, thus reducing your bastardy by at least 0.8%. Anyway, when was the last time any of you got laid?"

"Jen and I went a little wild last weekend," Alice says.

"Vision and I are in counseling, okay?" Wanda grouses.

"Michfest 1982," Lilia says, "but of course Lorna and I were really only friends with benefits by then."

Alice audibly gags.

"You slept with my mom?"

"Alice, dear, your mother and I were in a committed relationship for a decade."

"So, after this evening of exciting revelations," Agatha declares, "I think we can all agree that there are others in this world who need to get laid far more than I do."

A week later Agatha, having acknowledged that she kind of is lonely, having not even gone on a date since Nicky was two, agrees to let Alice set her up on a blind date with someone Alice knew in college. The night arrives, a sitter is procured for Nicky, and Alice's old friend arrives to take Agatha out to dinner.

"Hey, I'm Rio Vidal. You Agatha?"

"I am," Agatha manages.

The person at her door is gorgeous, and she's actually a little afraid she might explode if they even seem inclined to kiss her, let alone take her to bed.

The date goes well: an excellent meal, a lot of good conversation. Rio is a restauranteur, which Agatha finds fascinating.

"Nothing so fancy as this place, though," Rio says. "Just a couple of pizza places. Non-chain."

"Oh, well, Nicky and I do love pizza."

"Nicky. That your little boy? Alice said you have a kid."

"Mm-hmm. My pride and joy."

Rio smiles at that, and Agatha feels her heart almost melt at the sight.

At the end of the night, Rio takes Agatha home and walks her to the door.

"This was good, I think. Can I see you again some time, Agatha?"

"Uh, well, sure. I had a really great time."

She's sort of wondering if maybe Rio will kiss her or something, but all she gets is what she thinks will be simply a handshake...

Until Rio lifts Agatha's hand to her lips and kisses the back of it softly.

"I'll call you, Agatha. Te veo."

They end up going out to a folk music concert in the park the very next weekend. It's fun, and when Agatha is shivering at one point near the end of the evening, Rio offers up her jacket.

"Can't have a beautiful woman like you freezing."

That night, Rio does kiss Agatha good night, and it's a good one. Long and soft and warm and... Well, Agatha has some dreams that night which go way beyond kissing.

Three months in, they're properly dating, as far as Agatha is concerned, and she's very happy about it. Rio is kind, considerate, funny, and very sweet. She almost always brings Agatha flowers, and she goes out of her way on all of their dates to make certain Agatha is comfortable and having the best possible time.

Then, one day, Rio stops answering Agatha's texts and calls. At first she figures things are busy in the restaurant game. She would go ask Alice if anything's up, but Alice's band is touring the west coast for three months and communication on that end has been spotty as well. After a month and a half, Agatha figures maybe Rio got tired of her and decided to ghost her, and she moves on.

Another month after that, it's just a quiet Friday night at home for Agatha and Nicky when there's a knock at the door. When she answers, who should Agatha see but Rio.

"I... I'm sorry I haven't been in touch," she says. "There's been a lot of family stuff. I had to be down in Puerto Rico a while and take care of things, and at first I was too busy to really get back to your texts and stuff, and then I figured you would be pissed I had gone silent and..."

Rio trails off, and Agatha notices that she looks worn down and tired.

"I... I thought you might just be busy or something. Would you like to come in? I was about to make dinner."

"I don't wanna disturb you."

"It's fine. C'mon, you look like you need to sit down for a while."

So Rio comes in, and Agatha introduces her to Nicky.

"This is my friend Rio. Rio, this is Nicky."

And Nicky instantly does that thing a lot of little kids do.

"Hi! Would you like to see my toys?"

Rio looks sort of nervous, but Agatha goes with them and stands in the doorway of Nicky's room while he shows Rio all of his stuff, and right away Rio seems really relaxed. She's acting genuinely interested in everything Nicky says, and she doesn't talk down to him like many adults do with small children. After a while, Nicky goes over to Agatha again.

"Mama, can Rio watch TV with me while you make dinner?"

"If she wants to, sweetheart."

"I like television," Rio shrugs.

So Agatha makes dinner, and when she goes to tell Nicky to wash his hands, she sees that Rio has fallen asleep sitting in the big armchair.

"Rio. Rio, are you hungry?"

"What? I... Oh. Oh, I'm... I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay. Would you like to have dinner, or do you need to rest a little longer?"

"I'm sorry, I'll go, I..."

"Hush. Here, why don't you stretch out on the sofa?"

Agatha goes and gets a spare pillow and a blanket and gets Rio settled on the sofa. Later on, just after Nicky goes to bed, Agatha is washing the dishes when Rio wanders into the kitchen, the blanket around her shoulders.

"Hungry?" Agatha asks.

"Starving."

Agatha warms up some of the leftovers and Rio sits and eats while Agatha finishes cleaning up.

"You feel better after your nap?"

"Yes," Rio says, "thank you. And again, I'm really sorry..."

"Don't be. You clearly needed it."

After Rio eats, she insists on washing the plate and utensils she used herself, and she starts to say she needs to leave, but Agatha is still worried.

"Stay the night. Just so I know you're not out driving tired in the night."

So Rio spends the night on the couch, and she has breakfast with Agatha and Nicky in the morning, then heads out. She calls Agatha that night and thanks her for being so kind, then asks if maybe they can go on another date in a few weeks.

"I'd like that, but don't rush yourself."

"It's no rush. I know I'll feel better if I can get back to spending time with you."

Their next date is actually taking Nicky to a carnival. Well, Agatha takes Nicky to the carnival, and they run in to Rio, who was about to leave after going there with friends who already left. Instead Rio stays and spends the afternoon with them. Three days later Agatha and Rio have another official date, and when they get back to Agatha's, Rio ends up spending the night in a more romantic way. It is glorious and soft and amazing.

They go on dating for three years before Agatha's friends start bugging her about "reeling in the big fish." Agatha ignores them, because the relationship is what it is, and it's wonderful. She would love for things to progress to perhaps marriage, he's not sure how Rio would feel about that. They've sort of avoided the topic, just because it felt rushy to both of them.

Finally one night, they're doing the dishes together after dinner at Agatha's, and Rio just casually reaches over and places something on the little ring holder that sits on the inner ledge of the kitchen window. Agatha looks and sees this gorgeous ring, a diamond surrounded by little amethysts.

"What's that?" she asks.

"It's yours," Rio says, "if you want it."

"Are you... Proposing?"

"Not if you don't want me to. Do you want me to, Agatha?"

And Agatha realizes she does want it. She's so deep in love with Rio, and Rio is so good to her, so sweet with Nicky. And Rio proposes to her right there at the kitchen sink. When they get married six months later, Alice takes all the credit.

[harringroveobsessed]

For @harringrovewinterbingo prompt: A1 -Accidental Kiss.

“Mmm, thanks baby”, Steve hums leaning into Billy’s space to press a soft kiss against his lips as he gratefully accepts the glass of water he’s handed.

Steve pulls back an inch, confused when his usual warm, perpetual cuddlebug during a movie Billy morphs before his eyes into a stiff, eyes wide open with terror Billy. He twists to follow Billy’s horrified gaze which is landing somewhere over Steve’s shoulder and… oh fuck.

Steve has been told he’s an idiot more times than he can count at this point, but he’s really gone and earned the title this time. Shit, Billy is going to kill him. Steve’s dead, deader than dead, there isn’t a word in the English language for how dead he’s going to be.

“Oh my god, you call him baby?” Max groans in disgust, her cheeks glowing as red as her hair, “You guys are so fucking gross.”

Steve can barely hear her over the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. It was an accident; Jesus Christ he forgot the kids were even here. In his defence, Steve was barely awake, the kids put freaking Star Wars on for the hundredth time this month and he’s yet to make it through one of those movies awake. And the little shits were so quiet for once, all draped out of sight on the floor and Steve was comfy and sleepy and just… shit it was an accident, Billy can’t kill him over an accident!

Swallowing nervously Steve hazards a glance in Billy’s direction hating what he finds there, Billy looks more terrified now than he ever looked facing down the Mindflayer. Steve feels a little sick at the look on his boyfriend’s face and a lot sick that he’s the one that put it there. A year, a whole damn year of being so careful and he’s blown it with one stupid accidental kiss.

Nobody knows about them besides Robin – who is also wide eyed on Billy’s left and gripping his arm so tight that Steve can see the white marks blooming around her fingertips – and that’s only because she was the one who finally got tired of their “gay yearning bullshit” and told them to make a move before she dies of old age. It’s not that Steve doesn’t trust the kids, he knows they can keep a secret but they both thought it wise to keep a lid on it until they finally got out of Hawkins at least. But now. Well the lids blown right off.

It's coming on to just over two minutes of silence (Steve’s secretly impressed the shitheads lasted this long) when he realises he’s not said anything, Billy hasn’t said anything, nobody has said anything.

His hand has all but seized up around the glass he’s still holding and the silence is stifling, Steve isn’t quite sure how to play this off. Could he get away with hauling Billy off the sofa, into his car and fleeing the country? Maybe…he and Billy are faster than the kids after all. Or perhaps he could convince all six of them they had some kind of shared hallucination, tell them he’s heard whispers there is some psycho going around Melvald’s putting psychedelics into the soda. It wouldn’t be terribly out of left field but… shit no. Joyce works there doesn’t she, Will would know if that was true.

Steve is forcibly drawn out of his increasingly wild thoughts by an odd, spluttering sound from down on the carpet. Are one of the kids choking? Shit, he’s killed one of his kids, kids who faced down monsters from another dimension, killed by the image of Steve kissing his boyfriend. How is he going to explain this to Hopper or fuck, in court?!

Suddenly the sound filters its way into his brain and Steve realises someone isn’t choking, El is giggling.

The sound has Steve finally lifting his gaze from where it’s been burning a hole into his mom’s pristine carpet. El has set off a chain reaction it seems, now all six of the little shits are laughing, Dustin is crying as he cackles like a loon.

“The fuck is so fuckin’ funny?”, Billy grunts.

Dustin has to catch his breath, wheezing through another howling laugh, “You guys are sooo bad at this, oh my god!”

Lucas snorts so loudly at that Steve’s neighbours probably heard which dissolves the group into another bout of hysterical laughter. Steve turns to Billy and Robin for help and while Billy’s glare has only turned more murderous, Robin is laughing right along with them, only laughs louder when she catches Steve’s frown.

“They know Steve.” Robin chuckles.

“W- wait, what. You guys... you guys know about me and Billy. How?”

“Don’t you mean your baby?” Max chokes out setting off another ripple of hysterical giggles, “We’ve known for like forever, the heart eyes when you’re around each other are less than subtle.”

Steve feels himself flushing with embarrassment and when Billy leans in to get a closer look at the kids his cheeks are also painted a pretty pink. While Billy still looks cautious, he’s smirking now as he reaches to clasp Steve’s hand in his own. Steve slumps against him dazed and still confused but he can’t help but smile back at Billy in relief. People found out and it’s fine, the world is still turning, and the kids are just making fun of them as usual.

Will, always the peacemaker grins at them both in turn, “We were waiting for you to tell us, we’re all fine with it obviously, but we didn’t want to make you guys uncomfortable. You hadn’t told us for a reason I guess.”

“I mean you could have just said something instead of starting to make out in front of us,” Mike shudders pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction.

Scowling down at the kid in faux outrage Steve whines, “It was an ACCIDENT!”

He feels a tug at his side and Steve is hauled onto Billy’s lap. Billy is grinning wolfishly now; all teeth and tongue, Steve is so beyond relieved to see the familiar expression replace the mask of terror it was before.

“You haven’t seen making out yet Wheeler, try and stop me now I know I don’t gotta hold back.” Billy teases. “C’mere Bambi.”

Steve ducks down to meet Billy’s lips and to the sound of the party screaming in the background, Steve kisses his boyfriend.

And this time, it was on purpose.

[sineala]

Greetings!!!

I have another question, this time a relationship kind.

Tony and Steve have “main” love interest in their comics (quotations for Tony because the writers either kills or spirit away his supporting casts). For the purpose of this ask, we’ll focus on Steve rogers/sharon carter and Tony stark/fujikawa Rumiko, and then we’ll get to the part of shipping Steve rogers/tony stark.

First part: in canon, Steve and Tony being a pair romantically won’t happen (I hope they will tho😮‍💨) and they’ll likely be with Sharon and “Rumiko” respectively. In fanon however (and as Stony lovers), we can make it so that there’s a possibility of Stony happening, granted that both have broken up with their girlfriends and are single. Now, the question is, what canon basis would lead to them breaking up with their girlfriends or their girlfriends breaking up with them? I wouldn’t want them to break up just for the sake of it, you know?

Second part: as stated previously, both Steve and Tony have love interests. What part of Steve/Tony ship is compelling for you that you ship these two characters and not their canon ones? And if there was a canon basis that lead to them breaking up with Sharon and Rumiko, will they be able to avoid the same fate with each other?

Thanks for answering in advance! Have a good day!!

Thank you for asking! These are fun questions! Sorry it is taking me so long to get around to answering them!

So I'm going to start here by cordially disagreeing with your premise -- because, speaking for myself, I don't actually want Steve/Tony to become 616 canon. I'd be happy to have it in an AU, although ideally a gayer AU than 3490 and something that is more than one panel. Like, a miniseries, or a nice Ults-sized universe. But not 616. Would I be happy if they were canonically queer? Hell, yes. Do I want them together? Probably not.

Look, I know what happens to canon Marvel couples. We all know what happens. If they got together in 616, if we were lucky, maybe we would get a nice special commemorative issue, but probably only if they actually got married. Then we would get, like, six months of them being happy and then Tony would start cheating on Steve with Hydra Steve and we would probably hold Civil War III: Now With Real Divorce and then Tony would sell their entire relationship to Mephisto. Sure, if you like darkfic, you might enjoy reading that fic. But then you'd close the AO3 tab and go back to your much happier canon. Except then this would be canon and we'd be stuck with it until they got back together in ten years. For like a year. Then they'd do it all again.

(Plus, if they put them together in a miniseries or small spin-off universe, they might actually get a shot at staying together for the length of the series, and Marvel editorial might actually let someone do it in the first place. Especially with Steve, who would I think be the sticking point here. I feel like the odds of them being okay with canonically queering up any version of Tony (who is, let's be honest, like 75% of the way there already) is, like, a thousand times higher than the odds of them letting Steve fall in love with a man because blah blah Captain America blah.)

While, since Ed Brubaker's run, Steve/Sharon has basically been Marvel's default pairing for Steve -- although Sharon was dead for, like, fifteen years and they didn't date again for ten more years after that -- I would, sadly, have to say that Tony probably doesn't have a canonical pairing in the same way, given that Rumiko has been dead for over twenty years, has been mentioned maybe once since then, and no writer has ever indicated that they want to bring her back, as far as I know. The current IM writer says he has no plans. So I think Ru means more to fandom than she does to Marvel.

Anyway, in both of these cases, the thing that has canonically led to both of these relationships breaking up is Sharon and Rumiko dying. Sharon eventually came back; Rumiko never has, and for maximum tragedy, Tony was going to propose to her and also she was murdered by someone in Tony's armor so she presumably died thinking Tony killed her.

Superhero comics generally tend to just… be that dramatic. Either that or the hero's girlfriend just, you know, says "ok bye" in about the span of a page (looking at you, Cantwell tanking Tony/Jan) and the hero is now conveniently single and ready for his next girlfriend. Steve also tends to canonically ruin his relationships by prioritizing superheroing over them and/or generally alarming the civilians he dates by being in a lot of danger all the time. Tony also dates straight-up villains more than once and that doesn't… work out. Because they usually try to kill him. So I think Steve/Tony would avoid several of those pitfalls by probably not dying permanently, probably not trying to kill each other (again), and also understanding that being a superhero is a priority.

I do want to clarify that I also enjoy reading about their canon relationships. Sure, yeah, Steve/Tony is my OTP, but that doesn't mean that, like, I wasn't having fun reading all the Tony/Jan in the Slott run, or all Tony/Emma in Duggan's IM run (the fact that Tony has dated multiple telepaths is really fascinating to me) because I absolutely was enjoying this. (Or Steve/Bernie, my favorite Steve canon relationship. I also find Steve and Sharon's relationship fascinating because they seem to have almost no emotional intimacy and yet it's clearly working for them.) So it's not so much "why do I ship Steve/Tony and not their canon relationships" because I like their canon relationships too. But if I want their canon relationships I can… read canon. If I want Steve/Tony, I can't just pick up a comic book about them dating (and, again, I wouldn't really want to).

But why do I ship Steve/Tony? I don't know what to say, really. I read The Confession and got to the end of it and I was like "oh, they love each other. That's why people ship it."

I like stories about queer relationships. I think Steve and Tony are interesting because they understand each other well and have a lot of similar values and at this point a lot of shared history (like, they are committed), and they have a lot of very strong feelings about each other (I mean, not always good, but that makes it fun) as well as an amount of emotional access that they don't really give other people; they clearly get to see each other's real selves, not just the public persona. And this is a combination of things they don't have with other characters, even their other friends. Like, with their other friends, if they get upset with each other, they will probably stop talking for a bit, take a break, think things over. Exhibit reasonably normal behavior. Steve and Tony? They need to be in the same room even if they can only scream at each other. They just… feel compelled to keep offering each other their personal feelings, even when they really should not. They are just massively intensely into each other.

Again, I think if canon tried to interpret this in a romantic way, it would involve breaking them up a lot and making them not… be with each other. Which is not how this dynamic actually works when they don't get along, but, like I said, a lot of Marvel characters' romantic relationships fail in similar ways, which is why this is a thing I don't want canon to do, because I think they'd try to fit them into that mold. Fandom can make them have all the emotionally messy romance! Canon can just write them as emotional messes who can't stay away from each other. We can do the rest.

So the emotional access/intimacy isn't always good, but it's absolutely fun to read. I'm thinking of in early v4 when Steve and Tony are barely speaking to each other and not on the same team but Tony makes a special point of having someone tell Steve he of course already has the password for this drive full of instructions for how to deactivate Tony's RT. Like, these guys are barely talking and Tony thinks it is absolutely perfectly normal and a good idea for Steve to be able to turn off Tony's autonomic nervous system. No one else has this ability. No one at all really should have this ability and, yet, here they are. Meanwhile, Steve is not on Tony's team because he's off doing black ops -- he refused to be on the Avengers -- but yet he cannot stop showing up to Avengers missions and having a terrible relationship with Tony. They can't talk to each other but they also can't leave each other alone. It's fascinating.

Plus, there's so much canon that you can basically have your pick of character dynamics -- whatever the hell that was in v4 is canon, and them being BFFs is canon, and so on. As I think I have said, I love this thing they have going on a lot -- you can see it in the azure eyes issue -- where they have this mutual admiration society and mutual inferiority complex going on where they both think the other one is so great and they can't understand what this person who is so great sees in them. But they both believe this! I love it. So, yeah, if you want to see them as being totally happy, I would absolutely read that, and there are eras of canon where I would buy that; I think it just depends where you want to go with them. I mean, I also obviously write super sappy fic in addition to stories that are miserable piles of pain. But whatever happens, Steve and Tony are clearly not leaving each other for good.

[theameliaxevans]

"As fun as it would be to try and hit a moving target on a skateboard, it would be less fun if you're not trying to snipe me back. So okay, back to the drawing board with next date ideas." And if she let that last little sentence slip without thinking about it then...oh well.

Amelia grinned at him as he continued speaking, letting out a laugh of amusement at the mental image of Spencer in this big fuzzy sweater. "You know, for someone all big and buff, this whole adorable fuzzy persona of yours is...definitely a trip." Not in a bad way, but in a surprising one. He was like a giant puppy that could probably punch someone's lights out. It definitely threw her for a loop since this wasn't what she'd expected from him when they first met.

Amelia was glad for the drinks then because as the topic shifted to their homes, her smile faded just a bit and she focused on her glass, taking a long sip from it. "I'm from Salem. Totally opposite end of the country, and this place is....definitely a far cry from it." Which wasn't always a bad thing, but still. "I've been here for going on eight years. I lived with a family friend who's pretty much my aunt. And now m older brother and sister are here, so..it's home." She shrugged, unsure if the smile still on her face reached her eyes anymore. She tried though--especially as Spencer spoke once again, telling her more about himself...a lot

I talk a lot when I get nervous around people I have a crush on. That definitely made her smile grow again and she hummed, nodding, "So I've noticed." She told him teasingly. "I don't box, and I haven't been on a skateboard since I was like six so I doubt I'd be any good. And no allergies that I know of. Like I said, I have two siblings here, twins, and an older brother who...fuck if I know where he is or what he's up to or..anything." Is he even alive? "I don't really dance, and I read a lot of novels. I speak fluent French and lived in Paris with my grandparents last year for a few months, and after I graduate college in a few months, I....have absolutely no idea what I'm doing." There. If he could overshare, so could she. "And I'm ready for at least two tequila shots."

Spencer glanced back at Amelia and raised a brow at her paintball comment. Is that what normal dating was about because Spencer was definitely not that experienced with relationships. “ okay then shoot me with paintballs. I’ll even skateboard so you got a moving target. I’m not sure my code would let me shoot back at you. I’d probably hide forever of i actually got you with one “ Spencer admitted. He wasn’t sure how playing a game like that and then firing a paintball gun at the girl you were crushing on was gonna win him points, especially if he actually did hit her. And he had to be honest with himself here; he wanted to keep going on these dates with her.

“ oh yeah dude I’m like a fuzzy little bear man. It’s a look. I’ll wear one next time when it starts to get a little California cold “ Spencer teased as he looked back at Amelia, unable to stop the smile on his face. It was like every time he looked at her the expression on grew and now he just could stop smiling. He had to admit to himself other people didn’t make him feel like this. Others have made him smile plenty of times but not in this way. “ Ooh, where are you from? I’m from Visalia originally. Were the closest town to Sequoia National Park. Huge but pretty trees and everything. I kind of miss it, especially how weird it was to go from this like desert climate right into a forest. We get all the weather here just not on certain places like here. “ Spencer was rambling but he was just really excited to talk to Amelia that it had a tendency to get his motor mouth running. His talking stopped instantly though when it registered that she had called him sweet and he could feel his cheeks get hot. “ I - uh. “ he began unsure where to go with his words. “ I go boxing when I’m not skating. Helps me stay active and quick on my feet. Though it doesn’t work when I get districted. But I maintain that happened cause there was a really pretty girl in front of me. I have a step sister,and I’ve mentioned my baby brother. He’s super cool. Oh I’m allergic to nuts. Im numbers dyslexic. there's a specific word for it but I forgot. I love dancing. I read a lot of comic books. I talk a lot when I get nervous around people I have a crush on. “ he continued only to stop when he blurted out his thoughts like that. “ you should interrupt me to stop me from saying too much “ @theameliaxevans

[into-the-very-fires-of-mordor]

alright y'all, this aint shit

making this post to reblog it every time i feel like having a mental breakdown and fleeing from my job and other responsibilities.

and also when i realize that this is my damn luteal phase's fault.

and also a lack of sleep problem