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shivunin · 2 years ago

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Pour Forth

F!Hawke/Fenris | 3830 Words | M | Cross-posted here on AO3

CW: Injury (broken bones, torn stitches, scarring), pregnancy/childbirth mention

(Expanded from the original prompt here c:)

“Let me pour forth

My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,

For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,

And by this mintage they are something worth,

For thus they be

Pregnant of thee;

Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more,

When a tear falls, that thou falls which it bore,

So thou and I are nothing then, when on a diverse shore.”

— “A Valediction: Of Weeping” by John Donne

The first time she said it, Fenris had just taken a crushing blow to his leg on the Wounded Coast. He supposed the joke was intended to take his mind off the pain while she healed him—though as far as he could tell, Hawke had never met a bad joke she didn’t love. She was always making them at the most inopportune times, for reasons that remained entirely beyond him.

So, while she watched the bones of his leg knit themselves back together, Hawke had looked sidelong at him and said it:

“It’s alright to cry, you know.”

“What?” Fenris asked through clenched teeth. He could feel sweat beading on his face and arms with the effort of not reacting to the pain just above his ankle. There was little space in his mind left to understand whatever nonsense she was trying to say.

“It’s alright,” she said, “I wouldn’t judge you. This must be painful. Goodness knows I cry over the silliest things all the time. I won’t tell the others, either. Healer’s word.”

“Right,” Fenris replied doubtfully, and she winked at him.

“Your bone density is top notch, you know. I’m sure it all fit together quite nicely before the incident with the warhammer.”

There was a horrible crack from the vicinity of his leg and Fenris gritted his teeth for the wave of pain that was sure to follow—only nothing did. Instead Hawke raised a hand and motes of pale blue spun forth, enveloping the break.

“You’ll be right as rain soon enough,” she said, which might have been reassuring, except she kept talking, “I used to do this for the horses in town, you know. Creatures’ll panic themselves into a heart attack if you aren’t careful.”

“Am I to believe,” Fenris said, wiping away the sweat on his forehead before it could drip into his eyes, “That your primary means of practice was on farm animals?”

“Hmm? Oh, no,” Hawke said, and squinted at something on his leg.

When Fenris moved to sit up, she set her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back. He didn’t have the strength to argue with the touch; he let her handle him instead, since there was little force behind it and she plainly meant no harm.

“Nothing you’ll want to see,” she said cheerfully, “You know I was a smuggler for a year, yes? Far more broken bones there than back home. I only meant that horse bones are much more delicate than yours and I still got them up and walking again. I’ve healed other bones, too, of course, and all manner of hurts.”

“Of course,” he muttered, and rubbed the shoulder she’d touched to dispel the sensation of her hand.

“Thank you,” he’d added reluctantly as the pain in his leg dulled to a throb.

“Always,” Hawke replied absently, squinting down at his leg again.

As promised, he’d been on his feet moments later and more than capable of trailing along behind the rest of their group. Unlike her magic, the ghost of her touch lingered—though Fenris would not have admitted it for the world.

Of course, that wasn’t the only time; if there was something Hawke loved, it was repeating a foolish joke. So several years later, during an ill-advised visit to some lowbrow theater in Lowtown, she leaned over the armrest between them and repeated it.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she whispered directly into his ear.

Fenris resisted the urge to lean into the words and shook his head, as if unaffected by it all.

In truth, the actress wailing over her dead lover’s body onstage was little more than background noise. If asked, Fenris likely couldn’t have explained what the play was even about. He’d been distracted for the duration, because for some reason Hawke had chosen to come to this event in a dress Isabela had chosen for her—which meant it draped low in the front and exposed both of her shoulders to the smoky air of the theater.

Hawke’s arms, Fenris had realized when he’d arrived late to their group’s seats, were covered in freckles.

He couldn’t explain why the sight of them, strewn across her collarbones like a half-finished star map, had struck him most of all.

“I saved you the aisle seat,” she’d whispered as the lights went down, and Fenris hadn’t even thanked her. He’d just sat there, stiff as a statue, and bent every ounce of his focus to not actually turning his head to stare at her.

Fenris’s self control was iron under most circumstances. It ought to be good enough not to gawk at his friend’s decolletage, at least.

But not when she leaned over like that to whisper in his ear and the scent of her wrapped around him like—like it had a mind of its own. So:

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she whispered as the play reached its climax, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hawke,” he managed, his voice thankfully chiding instead of—of—anything else.

She laughed slightly and angled herself closer so he could hear her over the screech of violins. Against his will, his eyes dropped to her bodice.

Fenedhis, he could see all the way past her cleavage to the swell of her stomach beneath.

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut.

“I know,” she said into his ear, “It’s all very touching. I’m genuinely shocked I haven’t heard you laughing at the thing since that awful bit where they drank out of the boot. Shameless.”

“Shameless,” Fenris repeated, his voice rough even to his own ears, “I couldn’t agree more.”

But—time passed, and things between them changed. He grew closer to her, then too close, botched things horribly, and for a long time kept a very, very careful distance between them.

A distance he could not hold when she’d been near-gutted at the Arishok’s hands.

Fenris had seen her, briefly, dead in her bed at the manor; he had seen her brought back by Anders’ hands and luck alone. He wondered often now if he would ever forget watching her face go lax and bloodless, the way her chest had refused to rise with breath, in the very bed where they’d lain together. There was nothing he could do—he was not a healer—but he could be there when she finally sat up under her own power, when she could at last be helped from the bed to take a turn about the room.

When, not two weeks later, she’d insisted on strapping herself into this ridiculous dress and dragging herself to some absurd gala at the Viscount’s Keep.

“Stop being so grumpy,” Hawke panted now, one arm slung over his shoulder, “It could have happened to anyone.”

Fenris clenched his jaw until he felt the muscle jump, shooting her a scathing look. Her dress was too red to see how bad the bleeding was. Still, he knew it must be bad; he’d felt the tacky blood seeping through the structured bodice when he’d picked her up. He was certain the wound had not improved while he hurried back across Hightown to the manor.

“Oh,” Maria—no, Hawke, he would call her Hawke—said, chagrin coloring her tone, “I understand.”

“Do you?” Fenris said through his teeth. She hadn’t understood when they’d taken turns convincing her not to go to this party in the first place. He’d be surprised if she understood now, even after she’d ripped her stitches open dancing; she was stubborn like that.

They rounded the corner at a jog, the lantern beside her door coming into view at long last. The walk was not long, but he felt as if he’d been walking for hours. It bothered him beyond words to know that his speed might determine how well she came out of this absurd situation.

“Yes,” she said, and Fenris kicked the door twice instead of knocking.

“It’s alright,” she said, hissing between her teeth when he kicked the door again and jostled her, “I can have the dress cleaned. It’ll be good as new.”

Fenris, who’d been listening for footsteps on the other side of the door, stared down at her incredulously. Hawke blinked up at him, her eyes guileless.

“But,” she said, “It’s okay to cry, really. I won’t tell anyone. It is a really, really good dress.”

He would gladly throw it in the fire if it would keep her from doing something this foolish again. Fenris wisely chose to ignore her and kicked the door again just as it opened, connecting with Anders’ shin instead of wood.

“Ow! Watch it,” the mage said, scowling, but immediately refocused his attention on Hawke.

“What is it?” he said, “Bring her in, quickly.”

“Anders!” Hawke said, but there was an awful thickness to her voice that belied the cheer in it, “You know, I was thinking this thing wasn’t quite red enough, so I thought I ought to add a bit more dye. You know—ah!—for…aesthetic’s sake.”

Fenris carried her up the stairs, abruptly grateful for the amount of time that he spent hauling a greatsword around and wielding it in combat. Such things had given him arms strong enough to carry her home, had allowed him to ensure she was not stranded amongst strangers in her moment of weakness. She had not even asked him to do this; she’d only told him to go fetch Anders for her. What might have become of her if he’d left her behind, wounded or incapacitated in that den of wolves?

He lay her down on her bed now, careful not to drop her too suddenly. Hawke grimaced anyway, then propped herself on one elbow.

“Take it off, please; cut the strings if you must, but leave the thing intact. It did cost a fortune, it’d be a waste to ruin it now.”

Fenris reached for her, then drew back, casting an agonized look at the mage. Anders rolled his eyes and pulled a small knife from his pocket.

“I’ve got it,” he said, “You and your vanity, Hawke.”

“Yes,” she said, her face tightening sharply when Anders tugged on the ties at her back, “V-vanity.”

There was little Fenris could do here but get in the way; it would go faster if he left them to it. He took a step back, abruptly aware of her blood on his hands, but he paused when Maria reached for him.

“Wait,” she said, panting, “Wait. Stay.”

Anders made an indeterminate noise at her back, not quite an objection, and Fenris narrowed his eyes. Her hand still hung in the air between them, beseeching.

It was a lost cause; they both knew that. Even so, he could not leave her, for it felt worse to leave than it did to linger. Fenris inclined his head to her, then settled against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Hawke glanced at him periodically, as if unsure he was still there, and he met her eyes steadily every time.

A lost cause; but he stayed with her that day, and the days that followed, until years had gone by and a peace settled into the hole they’d left between them.

Hawke, as he knew all too well, could never abandon a lost cause. Fenris should have known that this applied to the two of them, as well.

So: here she was now, years later, drifting in and out of sleep in his bed, with not a stitch of clothing to cover her. Fenris traced the scar over her abdomen, faded to silvery-brown, raised from the surface of her skin. The mark was nearly straight, though jagged along the edges where the Arishok’s weapon had ripped back out of her.

“Hmm,” she said, snuggling more firmly against his side, “See something you like?”

“No,” Fenris said without thinking, then grimaced, “I mean—”

She dragged one eye open and glanced down, taking in his hand against the swell of her belly.

“Ah,” she said, adopting the theatrical tone she took sometimes when she was about to make one of her dramatic speeches, “Fair. It is impossible to ignore, isn’t it? Alas, it was once flawless, but its beauty is marred forever by circumstances beyond its control.”

“Hawke—” Fenris began, frowning, but she was still talking.

“It’s alright to cry about it, you know,” she said, and he groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow, “I won’t tell anyone. I am certain you must grieve the memory of how it used to—”

Fenris took the fastest road to ending this conversation and darted forward, catching her lips mid-word and cutting off the end of the sentence. He’d already heard enough, anyway; sometimes her joking danced far too close to her true thoughts for his comfort, and this was certainly one of those times. If he didn’t stop her now, she could go on for half an hour, and he’d far better ideas about how he’d like to spend that time.

“Nothing is marred,” he said firmly when their lips parted at last, “I thought only of how I might have made myself more useful to you, then. I do not doubt that keeping my distance made things more difficult for you.”

“Oh,” Hawke said more quietly, searching his eyes, “It’s alright. Really. And—thank you.”

“Do not speak of it,” Fenris told her, leaning his forehead against hers and adjusting himself until they were pressed too closely together to see either of their scars at all, “And—for my sake, please—find another joke to make.”

“Oh,” she said earnestly, “I’ll try my best, but no promises. I only know three jokes, you see, and it’s ever so hard to think of others.”

Fenris sighed and might have said more, but she kissed him again, half laughing against his lips. Suddenly, there were far better things to do than try to pry her from her mischief.

And—here they were at last, the many years tucked neatly in their wake, fighting side by side on the Wounded Coast again. Time had altered both of them almost beyond recognition; he could not have known in those early days that six years later they may yet return to this place as lovers rather than the reluctant allies they’d once been.

He could not have predicted that watching her fall in battle would hurt him far more than the broken leg once had.

“I will not allow it,” Fenris growled, and raised the blade she’d given him for a blow that would have felled a dragon. The battle had been fairly routine for them until that moment, but now he threw himself into it with renewed ferocity. These bandits had been an obstacle before, a task they’d needed to complete, but now they had hurt his Hawke. More, they were keeping him from her side when she needed him; that, too, was something Fenris would not allow.

When at last their foes had fallen and the others began to pick through their pockets, Fenris strode back to Maria and tucked his hand beneath her neck.

“Hawke,” he said roughly, smoothing her black curls away from her forehead.

Blood had stuck them to her skin; it would be a task to get it all out later. He knew now exactly how onerous that could be; though he would never have told anyone else, he took great pleasure in the quiet intimacy of bathing together. There was a simplicity and serenity to going to her home together, making sure both of them were well and whole, and cleaning the day off before they read or ate or lay together.

These days, Fenris was often the one who would rinse her curls, comb out anything tangled there, and ensure that she went to bed clean and safe and well. Maria could do these things for herself; he knew that well. But it was a pleasure and a privilege to do them for her instead, after so many years of denying both of them even the smallest of touches.

Not that any of that mattered when she was lying so still in his arms.

Maria was not even unconscious; just dazed, blinking up at the dull sky. He didn’t like the way her eyes looked, the unfocused way they wandered past his face to the clouds. After a moment, she took a sharp breath and parted her lips.

“Fenris?” she said.

He frowned and leaned closer. Was she injured more gravely than he’d thought? Did she need—

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she said, her voice piteous, her eyes round and entreating, “I won’t tell anyone if you do.”

“Hawke,” he said roughly, and dipped his head to kiss her forehead over and over, speaking in between each touch, “You utter fool.”

“No,” she said.

Fenris didn’t much care that he was getting her blood on his mouth—only that she was well enough to make her awful jokes again. His heart, which had been hammering uselessly against his ribs, began to settle down at last.

“I’m your fool,” Maria finished triumphantly. Fenris huffed.

“As you say,” he murmured, and sat back to offer her a potion from his belt, “Drink this and stop your joking.”

“Never,” she said with a smile, and drank it down.

Fenris held her until she could rise on her own. Even then, the touch lingered, their fingers brushing but not quite tangled together.

“You are certain you’re well?” he said, frowning when she shifted and winced.

“Oh, of course,” she said, “You worry too much. I’m not all that delicate, you know.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at her, eyeing the healing wound on her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Hawke laughed, “I’ll let you check me over when we get home. We should move on.”

She was right; they would be easy prey from some other group of bandits if they lingered too long. Even so, he kept pace with her until they reached the other two, their fingers linked as long as possible.

Neither of them really wanted to let go.

Slaves learned early to keep their emotions contained.

That was what Fenris had told her, if not in so many words. Maria had grown to be good at listening to what he didn’t say as much as what he told her. Fenris never lied to her, but he often chose to omit particulars. What he left out, she guessed for herself, and it painted a bleak picture—not that she’d ever supposed otherwise. The brutality of his early life was beyond her understanding. The gentleness he showed her despite it all was not.

A slave did not weep where others could see; a slave did not have a family—not one they would be allowed to keep, at least.

But Fenris was not a slave.

The past few days had been long and she was still exhausted, but Maria had enough presence of mind to watch him at the bedside now. This was—this was something she would engrave in stone if she could, something she wished she could save forever.

Her love sat in the wooden rocking chair to her right, his bare feet braced on the matching foot rest. Their son was cradled in his lap, and the hand he’d tucked behind the infant’s head for support looked huge in comparison. His lovely green eyes were fixed on the babe now, a quiet smile curling the corner of his mouth, and his left forefinger was clasped firmly by much smaller hand.

Impossible as she may have once thought it, tears streaked down Fenris’s cheeks. They fell in unchecked droplets to darken his soft linen shirt, as if he didn’t notice that he was crying at all.

Hawke had seen infants before—she’d been old enough when the twins were born to recall what it was like—but she’d forgotten the indeterminate vagueness babies had, as if they could be anything at all, as if nothing was decided for them yet. What a thing to think about—that they had made the little fellow together, woven of love and time, and now he could be just about anything. The whole world lay before him still, and the two of them would guard this little corner of it for him until he was ready to set out for himself.

There would be no child safer or more loved in all of Thedas than their son. Watching Fenris with him now, she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.

It’s alright to cry, she thought, watching them, but she held the words on her tongue instead of speaking them aloud. Fenris did not need her to lighten this moment for him, for whatever pain he might feel at the newness of this was surely outweighed by the joy she saw in his eyes.

“Fenris?” she said instead, and he slowly dragged his eyes from their child to look at her.

“Yes? Do you need something?”

His voice was uncharacteristically thick with emotion, but he watched her with that same focus he’d always had. It would be silly to tell him all of it in a rush now: that she was endlessly grateful he’d found her, that he was free and here, still at her side, that he already loved their child with all of his heart, or that she thought he was even more handsome with a babe in his arms. It would be too much right now—and didn’t get the heart of things at all, did it? No. She would keep it simple instead.

“Thank you,” Hawke said, smiling at him and shifting more comfortably into her pile of pillows.

His forehead creased in confusion, but his eyes held hers. His hair was mussed, and there were deep circles under his eyes. The birth had been long, and he’d been by her side for all of it. He must be exhausted. Even so, Maria thought he’d never looked more lovely to her than he did just then, cradling their son with the utmost delicacy and care, tears streaking down his cheeks and catching the sunlight through the open window.

It’s alright to cry. I won’t tell anyone.

She didn’t need to tell him; he already knew his secrets were safe with her.

Fenris didn’t ask her what her thanks was for, nor what thoughts had led her to speak. Instead, he said simply:

“Always.”

Always—yes, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep, still smiling, I like the sound of always.

#maria hawke #f!hawke #hawke #fenris #fenris dragon age #fenhawke #fenris x hawke #da2 #da fanfic #my writing #needlessly dramatic poem in the opener? check!#but it's poetry month and i enjoyed it c:#hawke has the worst sense of humor lol everyone groans when she tells jokes over cards #i like to think 'it's okay to cry' was something malcolm used to tell her when he'd bandage her knees #but i couldn't work it into the fic #consider this a secret little headcanon instead #maria tearing her stitches and needing to be carried home: :D #fenris who tried to convince her not to go in the first place but can't give in to the urge to shake her until she sees sense: >:|#shivunin scrivening

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timespaceandfilm · 8 months ago

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Reinventing the Wheel - Ch 1, Dirty Laundry

Author: timespaceandfilm

Fic Rating: E - this fic gets NSFW in later chapters, 18+ only

Chapter Rating: M

Pairing: Sebastian x Female Farmer

Chapter Word Count: 5k

Notes: This is a fic that I've been posting to AO3 for a few months now, but I wanted to start posting little blurbs for each chapter here to try and expand it to other platforms. I'll probably start by posting a blurb for each chapter 2-3 x a week until I'm caught up to AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Just a bit of yelling

Fic Summary: Charlie was used to a mundane life. She was used to fending for herself. And she was used to feeling very different from everyone else. In a bad way. Then she moved to Stardew Valley.

Now she is faced with navigating an entirely new way of life, new friendships, and a complete change in her view of reality. And amidst all of these challenges are new feelings that she begins to harbor towards Pelican Town's local nerdy e-boy.

But how can she bring herself to pursue a man dead set on moving to the place she just escaped from? And how can she hope that he might return her feelings, when all she can offer is inexperience and insecurities?

Chapter Summary: Charlie is just trying to do her damn laundry.

Blurb:

My spiraling is cut short by the sound of heavy boots trudging across the ground. Well shit. I move my head from side to side to try and wipe away some of the snot, while keeping my face mostly covered. I’m sure I’m red as a tomato. The footsteps get louder and stop.

“Hey.” That voice cuts right through the static in my head. Against my better judgment, I peek up at him. Instantly, the tears stop, and for the first time in nearly twenty-six years, the brain bots fall silent. Every. Single. One.

He’s looking away from me, one hand behind his neck, hoodie sleeves pushed up to the elbow. I didn’t get a very good look at him earlier and my brain was too fried to really retain any details. But now I see those long slender fingers, adorned with a few rings. Nails neatly manicured and painted black. Though slender, I can see the lean muscle in his forearm. I can see the beginnings of a tattoo on the one that’s raised before it disappears under his sleeve.

His jaw is so damn sharp it hurts to look at it. A tinge of pink dusts his prominent cheekbones and his nose has an aquiline shape. His fringe is on the other side of his face, but the way the ends curl to graze his chin, and the way its shadow works in tandem with the moonlight is nothing short of radiant. I don’t have it in me to avert my gaze as this angel of death turns to look back at me.

Read the Full Chapter on AO3

#sdv sebastian #ao3 fanfic #sebastian sdv fic #seb x farmer #stardew valley fanfic #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #fanfic

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madsworld15 · 2 months ago

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New #Britin fic in my Diabetes Universe: I know you’ll be a beautiful surprise (Reposted with Edits)

So, recently I added a fic to my Britin Diabetes universe on AO3 in which a middle-aged Brian and Justin discuss the idea of having kids together. I thought that was the end of it for me and my creative brain. But, then a few days ago an idea entered my head and I was compelled to write it up. 9.2k words later I'm convinced this might be a cool idea to expand into a full multi-chapter fic idea for the universe. As of right now I only plan to post it here.

The premise is this: It's March 2018. Gus is a freshman in college and still living at home with Brian and Justin. It's been almost a year since they discussed the idea of kids. Then, Justin starts feeling sick and Daphne jokingly asks him if he could be pregnant. Which leads Justin to take a test. That is where we find ourselves at the start of this.

BE WARNED THIS FIC IDEA IS MPREG. (Don't worry about the explanation of how it's possible just believe it lol)

This isn’t a trope I write for so any feedback would be great!

Chapter 1.

Justin stared at the test in his hand. On the display screen were two distinct lines.

Fuck.

Justin rubbed his hand across his mouth. He had taken the test after Daphne had joked that he could be pregnant. They’d been hanging out the day before on their mutual lunch break when Justin had suddenly vomited. He figured he was just catching something from one of his students. Daphne, the doctor that she is, asked him if he was pregnant with laughter in her eyes.

Sure, male pregnancy was a thing, but he and Brian always used condoms. He guessed a condom must’ve broken in the last few months. But, he didn’t recall Brian mentioning it. He had no idea what they were going to do. It wasn’t as if they had wanted this. In fact, just last year they’d had the conversation about kids and decided it wasn’t something in the cards.

Gus was a freshman in college, Brian had been struggling to keep his blood sugars steady for months now resulting in a few ER visits, and Justin had just switched from teaching high school art to elementary school art. In short, it was not a good time for an upheaval such as this.

Fuck.

Justin slipped the test into a wad of tissues and walked it from the bathroom to their bedroom. He opened the drawer of the end table on his side of the bed. Justin glanced at the test once again before shoving it inside and shutting the drawer. One glance at the clock told him it was almost 6 pm. He needed to get dinner started.

Justin was standing in their kitchen, his thoughts on the test hidden in their bedroom, while he chopped up veggies for a salad. The lasagna he’d pre-made over the weekend was in the oven heating. His phone rang pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Gus. What’s up?” Justin wiped his hands as he cradled the cellphone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hey, I am going out with some friends tonight and then I plan on crashing at Isaac’s dorm.” The teen practically yelled, loud noise in his background making it hard to hear.

“Alright, I’ll let your dad know you won’t be home. Have fun. Be safe.” Justin hung up.

He stared at his phone again, contemplating his next move. He should probably get an official test done before telling Brian, just to be sure. With that he dialed his best friend.

“Hey, Daph.” Justin bit his lip.

“Wow. Twice in as many days. What’s wrong?” Daph laughed.

“I took a test.” Justin muttered, pausing to gain the courage for what came next, “I’m pregnant.”

“Holy Shit! Are you sure? Have you told Brian?” Daphne asked her questions calmly despite her obvious surprise.

“Not yet. I was wondering if I came by the ER tomorrow during your shift if you’d run a blood test so I can be sure. I don’t wanna freak him out too if it’s not real.” Justin ran a hand through his blond hair.

“Of course. I could also get the lab to rush it so you’d know by the end of the day if you come in before you go to work.” Daphne reassured him.

“What if it’s also positive?” Justin was back to being worried.

“Then you and Brian will have a decision to make. Justin, you're only 35. It's not as though it’s physically dangerous. And you and Brian are financially stable. It will all work out.” Daphne answered him. She always knew how to keep Justin from spiraling.

He heard the key turning in their lock. Brian was home. Justin needed to pull himself together so Brian wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Thanks, Daph. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Justin replied and hung up just as Brian’s arms wrapped around Justin’s shoulders from behind.

“Hello, honey.” Brian teased as he nipped at Justin’s ear before kissing his neck.

“How was your day?” The older man added, pulling away from physical touch.

“Fine. The kids wore me out though. I’m exhausted.” Justin rubbed his face as if to prove a point. Then he pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

Just then, the smell of bubbling cheese hit his nose and he felt nauseous. He tried to hide it by breathing through his mouth and drinking some water, but Brian was watching him closely.

“Still feeling under the weather? I told you to stay home today and sleep it off.” Brian braced his arms around Justin, locking him in against the counter next to the oven.

“I’m fine, Bri. Nothing a good night of sleep won’t solve.” Justin smiled despite the rolling feeling in his gut, and kissed his partner on his cheek.

“Well why don’t you rest. You don’t need to stay up on my account.” Brian reached up and cupped the back of Justin’s head.

Justin decided to take Brian’s gentle out and headed to bed. He nodded against Brian’s cheek as they embraced.

“I’ll drink some ginger ale and sleep.” Justin could feel his bone deep exhaustion more acutely now that Brian gave him the permission to.

Then, just as he reached their bedroom door he remembered Gus’ call.

“Oh and Gus called. He said he’s crashing at Isaac’s dorm tonight.” Justin yelled over his shoulder. Brian didn’t respond, but he knew the man had heard.

Hours later Justin realized he must’ve fallen asleep when Brian getting into bed brought him back to consciousness. The brunet apologized, placing a hand on Justin’s back as the blond drifted back to sleep.

—————

“Alright, I will get this over to the lab and call you when I have the results.” Daphne pulled off her gloves and put the vial of blood into a canister to take it to the lab once she’s done talking to Justin.

“Do results usually take a long time?” Justin was so nervous to know the answer. “I don’t end up in the hospital very often so I’m not sure how all this works.”

“After years of dealing with Brian’s diabetes I would’ve thought blood work would be old hat for you.” Daphne smiled and rubbed Justin’s shoulders, “Usually blood work takes a few hours when sent from the ER, but since you didn’t officially register as a patient it will be run at the typical speed.”

Justin nodded, staring at his hands. Daphne stepped closer and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Justin, are you okay?”

Justin looked up and took a deep breath. “I just worry this will ruin things with Brian or he’ll be angry.”

“When was the last time Brian got angry instead of talking things out?” Daphne gave the blond a knowing look. “Sure, when we were young and you guys were first starting out he wasn’t likely to communicate, but he changed all that years ago.”

“I know.” Justin bit his bottom lip and shrugged, “But we also had a discussion about a kid of our own when Gus was about to graduate high school. So, not even a year ago.”

“And? How did that conversation go?” Daphne sat down in the chair next to Justin.

“We agreed we didn’t need a child. We had Gus and Isaac.” Justin shrugged. At this point he was nearly in tears and trying to hide it.

“Doesn’t sound to me like he’s fully opposed.” Daphne shrugged and pulled Justin to his feet as she stood up.

“He’s not officially for it either. You remember how he was when Gus was a baby. Brian doesn’t do well with small children.” Justin grabbed his coat and put it back on, “Anyway, I gotta get to work. Thanks, Daph.”

“Jus, this isn’t the end of the world.” Daphne tried to reassure him.

“So you say.” Justin mumbled on his way out.

For the rest of the day, Justin volleyed between being stressed about the results of the blood test and worrying that the relationship he’d spent half his life in was coming to an end. He was in his final plan period of the day when Daphne called him.

“Hey, please tell me I’m worried for nothing and that I’m not pregnant.” Justin answered the phone without any preamble.

“Let’s talk about this in person. I’m almost at your school. Meet me outside and I will buy us some coffee and we can talk.” Daphne responded. “See you in about 5.”

Justin walked out of the school after informing the principal he was leaving a bit early. Daphne was waiting for him on the sidewalk. She was wearing a purple peacoat and matching hat, scarf, and gloves. Justin rubbed his hands together regretting that he’d accidentally left his gloves in his classroom in his rush to leave. Daphne immediately wrapped him up in a hug.

“Here.” She handed him a computer printout of his test results.

Justin’s eyes scanned the page until he found the word, “Positive” toward the bottom.

“Shit.” Justin crumpled the page up in his fist as he stared, stricken at Daphne. “What am I going to do?”

“First, you are going to walk with me to the bodega we both love, grab a coffee and a pastry. Then, we are going to talk about this until you feel comfortable to face Brian.” Daphne wrapped her arm around Justin’s and led him up the block.

“What would I do without you?” Justin breathed a sigh of relief. Caffeine and carb loading sounded like the perfect antidote to his current anxiety.

“You would’ve had multiple mental breakdowns at this point.” Daphne giggled then laid her head down on Justin’s shoulder.

Half an hour later, Justin and Daphne had their hands full with pastries and coffee. Daphne was unlocking the door to her apartment and leading her best friend inside. After ordering, they had both decided it was much too cold for them to eat in the park. So, Daphne told him they could go to her apartment. Her husband and two kids weren’t home so it would be just them.

Once they were settled on the couch, Daphne spoke first. “Just think. If you go through with this Leo will get to grow up with a best friend.”

“Daph.” Justin gave her a warning look.

“Right, I promised I wouldn’t try to sway your decision.” Daphne put up her hands in defense. “I still think this isn’t the end of the world. How many times over the years have you mentioned kids to me?”

“Alright, so I’ve always loved kids. It’s part of the reason I took up teaching. But, Daph, Brian and I have a life we love and a baby doesn’t fit into that.” Justin looked panicked, he was sure of it considering how panicked he felt.

“Maybe, but you guys have Gus.” Daphne tried to point out, always the voice of reason.

“Taking care of a teenager is not the same thing as a baby and you know it. We didn’t have to adjust much when Gus moved in because he was already independently taking care of himself. He just needed guidance.” Justin leaned back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. His stomach was aching like it wanted to turn itself inside out.

“You’re right. 14 is different from a newborn. However, do you think Derek and I were ready for a baby when we got pregnant with Ella? We’d been married for 5 years at that point. We had an established routine and we had to adjust. You and Brian will too.”

“Brian’s been struggling with his health for the past 6 months. We haven’t really told anyone because he doesn’t want people hovering, but I’m not sure now is the time to be making major adjustments.” Justin sighed. If he was being completely honest with himself this fact was holding him back the most from accepting this pregnancy as a good thing.

“Has it been serious?” Daphne leaned over and grabbed Justin’s hand to hold it.

“We’ve ended up in the ER a few times for both low and high blood glucose levels. What has been working for him for years is no longer a safe option.” Justin used his other hand to pick at the stitching of the couch cushion. “He’s been struggling with more migraines and Diabetic neuropathy.”

Daphne was quiet for a moment and so Justin took a deep breath to calm himself. There was just too much happening to him all at once and he wasn’t handling it well. Normally he’d be all for talking it through with Brian, but this time he hesitated because bringing it into the open with his partner made all of it more real.

“All the more reason for you to discuss it with him. Brian’s always been able to dictate what he can and can’t handle. Don’t take this decision away from him because you’re afraid.” Daphne gave Justin a knowing look.

“I’ll consider it.” Justin curled on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t as easy a position as it had been when he was younger, but he was still nimble enough to do it for a short period.

“Wanna watch some cartoons?” Daphne gently shoved his shoulder. Justin nodded.

The two friends settled into comfortable silence while watching reruns of the cartoons they lived to consume when they were kids. Before he knew it, Justin had dozed off on Daphne’s shoulder only to be shaken awake by his best friend when her husband and kids made it home.

“Uncle Justin!” Ella screamed as she ran across the room and launched her little body into his arms.

“Oof. You have grown a whole foot since the last time I saw you!” Justin laughed, squeezing his goddaughter close to his chest.

“What do you mean? I only have 2 feet. Same as always.” The five-year-old looked down at her legs just to be sure.

Justin laughed, “I meant you’ve gotten taller, little munchkin.” Then he tickled the little girl as Daphne grabbed her one-year-old from her husband’s arms.

“You staying for dinner, Justin?” Derek asked as he pulled a rotisserie chicken out of a grocery bag along with the makings of a salad and a to-go container of macaroni and cheese from the deli down the block.

Justin put Ella back down and reached for his coat. “No, I should go home. Brian’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Tell him.” Daphne squeezed his arm as he passed by her. “Please.”

Justin leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I will.”

But, instead of going straight home, Justin paid a cab to drive him around Queens for a bit before heading over to their brownstone. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about the wadded up test result in his coat pocket. An hour passed between him leaving Daphne’s and arriving back at the home he shared with Brian. He knew for a fact Brian would be wondering where he was, if not already calling local friends to find him.

Just as he was coming to the front door, Gus approached from down the street. Fuck. Justin hadn’t factored in Gus being home. The teen had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a red tint to his cheeks as the wind blew his brunet hair around his face.

“Hey, Jus. Just getting home? Isn’t it a bit late for you?” The teen smirked, morphing his face into an exact replica of a younger Brian.

“Not that it's any of your business but I spent some time with Daphne and her family this afternoon.” Justin unlocked the door and held it open for his stepson.

“Hey, Dad! Justin and I are home.” Gus hollered the moment they were both in the foyer.

Brian came from the direction of the kitchen, his face morphing from concern to relief. He immediately wrapped Justin up in a hug, ignoring Gus. He kissed the side of Justin’s head and breathed him in.

“I was so worried something happened to you. When I got home and you weren’t here I called Daphne to see if you were with her. She then told me that you had just left. So, I assumed you’d be home ages ago.”

From over Brian’s shoulder Justin saw Gus roll his eyes. Then the teen trudged toward his bedroom and closed the door with a loud thump.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I needed some time to think so I had a cab drive me around Queens before dropping me off here.” Justin pulled out of Brian’s arms and shrugged off his coat. He made sure to grab the crumpled up paper from his pocket.

Staring down at it, Justin let out his breath and forced himself to take another deep one to replace the air in his lungs.

“Good to know my money is being put to good use.” Brian teased, but there was still a hint of concern lacing every word. “So, what did you need to think about?”

Justin closed his eyes, took another deep breath, unfolded the paper and handed it to Brian. “This.”

Then he walked toward the kitchen, not waiting around for Brian’s reaction. He was terrified of what that one little word was going to do to the world they had built together. From an honest standpoint, Justin would never be upset about having a child, but he knew Brian was much more complicated. Justin had just poured himself a glass of orange juice when Brian joined him in the kitchen. His face was completely unreadable, not calming Justin’s nerves in the slightest.

“Is this why you’ve been distant this week?” Brian reached out to place his hand on Justin’s arm, getting the blond to look him in the eye.

“At first it was because I really did think I was sick. But then…” Justin stopped trying to catch his breath as tears spilled from his eyes. “Brian, I’m sorry.”

A moment later, his partner’s arms were wrapped around Justin, pushing him against Brian’s chest. Brian’s hand went up to cup the back of Justin’s head. He kissed him on his temple.

“Justin.” Brian whispered, pulling back a bit, “Justin, please look at me.”

Justin wiped his eyes, “I know this isn’t exactly something we are prepared for. It’s not like we wanted this to happen. I mean our lives are not equipped for a baby. I’m 35. You’re 47. We can’t do this.” Justin started to hyperventilate.

Brian rubbed his shoulders as Justin tried to gain control on his breathing again. “You done?”

Justin nodded.

“This is unexpected and that can be unnerving. And you’re right, our lives are not currently equipped for a baby. But, we can adjust. If that’s what you want.” Brian continued to rub Justin’s shoulders as he fell silent once more.

“What about you? I’m not the only one in this situation, Brian. You’ve never wanted kids.” Justin sniffed, a few more tears falling down his cheeks.

“Do you remember what I said when we talked about this a few months ago?” Brian moved a hand to Justin’s cheek and cupped it. “I said if that was something you wanted we would make it work. I don’t ever do or say anything I don’t mean.”

“Do we really want to even consider this? It’s a huge change?” Justin bit his lip. He looked into Brian’s eyes and only found gentleness there.

“Ignoring everything going on in our lives right now, what is your gut reaction to this news?” Brian dropped all physical contact with Justin and stepped back. It was as if he was giving Justin the space to independently assess his feelings.

Given the time and space to search his heart for his real feelings about it, Justin found the answer right away. His hands gravitated to his abdomen and he imagined eventually feeling the baby move inside him. He smiled despite himself.

He stepped up to Brian, who was now leaning against the counter. Placing his hands on either side of Brian, boxing him in he stared up into the older man’s eyes.

“I love you. I have loved you since I was 17. The idea of having a child that is a part of both of us is beautiful.” Justin leaned forward and kissed Brian, who closed his eyes and moved his lips against Justin’s.

“Does this make us heterosexuals?” Brian finally spoke, his joke indicating he wanted this as much as Justin did.

Justin backed away completely and laughed out loud. The stress of the last few days disappeared entirely. He was going to have a baby. Holy shit.

“What are we going to tell Gus? The family?” Justin finally responded.

“That is up to you.” Brian shrugged. “Let’s eat some dinner and worry about the rest later.”

Justin smiled and nodded his head. Brian rarely cooked, stating he didn’t prefer it. So, naturally, Justin was shocked to find that while he had delayed coming home, Brian had taken the time to cook up a chicken and potato dish. Justin was grateful his stomach decided to stay calm for this. Now that he knew for sure he was pregnant, Justin wasn’t looking forward to dealing with nausea for the next few months.

“You know my mom is going to flip out. She’s always wanted us to have a kid together.” Justin commented as he and Brian dug into their meal.

Brian smirked. “Well, she can save it for when it’s just the two of you.”

“You love when she showers you with mom love, don’t deny it.” Justin chuckled at him. Then, remembering that they had a teen in the house he hollered, “Gus? Are you joining us for dinner?”

After a few minutes of silence, Gus opened his door and stuck his head out. “Nah. I grabbed pizza with Isaac while we were studying for tomorrow’s chemistry exam.” Then without another word he closed his door once more.

“I swear your son never eats dinner with us anymore.” Justin pointed his fork at Brian accusingly.

“I love how he’s my son when it’s about something he’s not doing.” Brian chuckled and then with a cheeky grin added, “I’m going to do the same when this kid gets a little older, see how it makes you feel.”

A few hours later, Justin was sitting up in bed, scrolling through various websites on his phone. He was nervous about what pregnancy meant for his body. Now that he knew Brian was okay with the turn of events, Justin had found his anxiety switching to the physicality of being pregnant. Brian came into their bedroom from the bathroom, having just finished his nighttime routine.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” Justin started, placing his phone screen down on his chest, giving Brian his full attention.

Brian pulled back the blankets on his side of the bed and climbed in next to Justin before replying. “I’d say that’s a dangerous sign, but really you thinking is never a bad thing.”

“I’m trying to pinpoint when this could’ve happened. We always wear condoms and you tell me if one breaks because we get tested for HIV right after.” Justin assessed Brian trying to read his face.

The older man pinched his eyelids and sighed, “I was thinking about this while I was in the bathroom. The only thing I can think about was when we got trashed on New Year’s Eve at Daphne’s party. You and I don’t drink that much anymore and we kind of went overboard, who’s to say we didn’t make mistakes that night.”

“We also smoked a joint together when we got home that night.” Justin reminded Brian. “Yeah, I’m thinking this was a New Year’s misstep.”

“Which means you are probably almost two months. Shit.” Brian rubbed his temple again, signaling he was suffering from a headache.

“I will talk to Daphne tomorrow about finding a proper doctor to find out for sure.” Justin put his phone on the charger and turned off his lamp, cloaking them both in darkness. The two men end up in each other’s arms.

“I love you. We will get through this.” Brian muttered against Justin’s head before giving him a kiss.

—----

The morning of their first appointment with Dr. Savarese dawned bright and warm despite the layers of snow still on the ground from last week’s snow storm. It had been a few days since Justin officially confirmed that he was indeed pregnant at 35. Their appointment was at 4 pm, in the hopes that Brian would be able to pull away from work more swiftly than if it were in the morning or middle of the day.

Justin was nervous that there would be something wrong or worse all this had been a lie and they’d find out he wasn’t pregnant at all. Since telling Brian, he’d allowed himself to think about their future as dads to a new baby. It had been both nerve wracking and exciting, mostly exciting if Justin was being honest with himself.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Brian muttered, rolling over to place a kiss on Justin’s cheek before he got up and headed to the bathroom.

Justin smiled to himself and placed his hands on his abdomen. Today was the day they would see their baby. He heard Brian turn on the shower and knew he needed to get up soon. They usually showered together to save time on getting ready in the morning. But, also because it allowed their world to be a small bubble of just them for a little bit longer. Once they were showered, the responsibilities of parenting Gus and getting to work came crashing in and making their world a little bit louder.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Justin asked Brian nervously as he washed the older man’s chest.

“Justin. While kids were never my top priority in life, I don’t hate them. Besides, the idea of a little you running around sounds kind of nice. I always regretted not being around more for Gus when he was developing into the kid he was by the time I stepped up.” Brian smiled at Justin and nonverbally prompted him until Justin smiled back.

“You’re a great dad to Gus. Don’t ever question that. You’ll be an even better dad to this one.” Justin searched Brian’s face for a reaction.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” Brian’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“Because when Gus was born you were bound and determined to never let another heart touch yours. You had these steel paneled walls up around you that kept even your closest friends at a distance. But, now, you are open and loving and communicative. You’re already more involved in this surprise baby than I ever saw you in the first two years of Gus being in this world. Just ask Lindsay and I bet she’d say the same.” Justin replied, playing with Brian’s ear.

Moments later, they were both dressed and ready for work enjoying some eggs and toast while standing in the kitchen. Pretty soon, Gus joined them, talking on his phone.

“Don’t worry mom. I’m getting enough sleep, enough food, and I’m focusing on my classwork.” Gus sighed and rolled his eyes at Justin who smirked.

Then, suddenly, Gus’ phone was extended between Brian and Justin.

“Mom wants to talk to you.” Gus directed at Brian. “She’s convinced you’re letting me live a life of debauchery.”

Justin choked on the juice he just swallowed and had to turn around to the sink as he laughed and coughed in equal measure.

“My goodness, Wendy. Are you trying to take away everything I hold dear in my life?” Brian took the phone from Gus and spoke into it after placing it on speaker.

“What?” Lindsay’s voice sounded utterly confused.

“Dad’s only saying that because Justin choked on his drink when I said you think I’m living a life similar to the one he was living when I was born.” Gus laughed and reached over to pat Justin on the shoulder now that he’d returned to his spot next to Brian.

“I did not say that! Gus, I swear to God.” Lindsay huffed. “Justin, are you okay? I’m sorry my kid is a carbon copy of his father.”

“He’s fine, Wendy.” Brian said as Justin turned back to the sink once more to vomit around another cough. “Now, what do you need to speak with me about? I need to get to work and the lad needs to get to school.”

“I just wanted to be reassured that Gus is in fact going to school and doing his best. I worry about him.” Lindsay’s voice was laced with a level of concern that only a long distance parent could have.

“Linds, don’t worry. Even if we wanted to, Gus could never be convinced to skip school. He’s as big a geek as Bri and I were in school.” Justin returned and reassured Lindsay.

“Okay, if you are sure.”

“We are.” Brian cut in, somewhat exasperated. “I swear it’s as if you don’t trust me to monitor my own kid.”

“I do. I just worry. Like always.” Lindsay muttered. Even though they couldn’t see her, Justin knew from experience Lindsay would have a pinched look on her face as she tried to work through her mom guilt.

“Oh, Linds. Speaking of Brian’s parenting.” Justin added, as Brian tried to physically shut him up. But, Justin persisted and wrestled the phone into his hands. “Do you think Brian would be a better parent today if we were to adopt a baby tomorrow?”

“Are you guys thinking about adopting?!” Lindsay screeched.

“No! We were just having a hypothetical conversation this morning and Brian doesn’t think he’d be much different as a dad than he was 18 years ago. So, I told him he should ask you because you aren’t biased by being with him and you’d know.” Justin was quick to shut down any rumors Lindsay might want to spread. They didn’t want people to know yet.

“Shit!” Lindsay exclaimed through the speaker. “Sorry, I gotta go. J.R. just threw up everywhere.”

“Why are you two being weird?” Gus asked his dads after he took his phone back and watched them silently for a moment.

“What? We aren’t being weird.” Justin squeaked. Brian just shook his head and smirked.

“That’ll convince the CIA.”

“What is really going on? Are you guys adopting? It’s definitely strange you bring up kids now after all these years.” Gus shrugged with a knowing look on his face. “Don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll figure it out on my own soon enough.”

“Have a great day, Sonny Boy.” Brian replied, subtly rushing Gus out the door. “You will probably beat us home tonight. So, just get whatever you want for dinner.”

Once Gus was gone, Justin turned around and gagged into the sink once more. This time nothing came up. Brian rubbed his back, roaming his hand up and down.

“Sorry. The juice must not have agreed with me. Shit that acid coming back up really sucks.” Justin stood up and wiped at his mouth. “We should tell Gus sooner rather than later. He’s right, he’ll figure it out on his own.”

Brian held the back of Justin’s head, running his fingers through the blond hairs.

“Yeah we should. I’ll see you at the appointment. Have a good day.” Then Brian kissed Justin on the lips and was gone, off to work.

—---

Of course, Justin arrived at the appointment only to receive a text from Brian informing him that he’d be a bit late and to not wait on him. Justin was already back to being nervous about everything so finding out his partner wasn’t going to be there on time wasn’t helping him. Justin’s name was called a few minutes after he handed the receptionist back his medical history questionnaire.

“Justin Taylor?” A young woman wearing scrubs with flowers all over it called from across the waiting area. She had a short bob haircut that framed her face and made her look like a pixie.

“Yeah.” Justin stood up and walked toward her. “My partner is running late, could you let him in when he gets here?”

The nurse nodded and leaned over to mention it to the receptionist. Afterward she led Justin beyond the doors toward the doctor exam rooms in the back. They stopped at a scale where Justin’s weight was recorded. He was shocked to find he’d gained 5 lbs since the last time he’d had his weight recorded six months ago. Justin didn’t really ever fluctuate on his weight so even a small amount such as that further proved he was pregnant.

Once they made it to the exam room, Justin sat down on the table as the nurse pulled out the blood pressure cuff. He was used to all after years of follow up neurological appointments thanks to his persisting TBI. Speaking of which, as she tightened the cuff on his arm it triggered the spasm in his hand and Justin grunted from the sharp pain of it. Just as she was loosening things and recording his BP, Brian came rushing in.

The moment he sat in a chair next to the table he clocked Justin’s spasm and reached for his hand to massage it. Justin crossed his arm across his chest to give Brian better access. The nurse finally noticed his hand and looked terrified.

“Oh my goodness. Did I do that?” She pointed at Justin’s hand, her eyes overly apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I usually stop you guys at the head and instruct you to check things on my left arm instead. I have a TBI that permanently affects the function of my right arm.” Justin gave her his prize winning smile and she relaxed.

“I should’ve asked if you had a preference. I apologize.”

“Seriously, no sweat. This happens at least once a day without a blood pressure cuff.” Justin shrugged and chuckled.

“Everything else seems to be in order. Dr. Savarese will be in to talk with you shortly.” She then exited the room, closing the door, and leaving Brian and Justin alone.

“Sorry for being late.” Brian muttered as he continued to massage Justin’s hand.

“It helps that they were delayed pulling me back here too. I hadn’t been in here with Nurse Ratchett more than ten minutes before you came in.” Justin smirked at his joke.

“Unfortunately, I was late because there is a small Kinnetik fire that I will have to travel to Pittsburgh tomorrow and put out.” Brian sighed. Justin’s fingers flattened out and so the older man dropped the contact.

Justin didn’t mind, it was uncomfortable to keep his arm crossed over his chest for an extended period of time anyway. He fell silent. Brian went back to Pittsburgh all the time for work, but this time his chest hurt at the thought of Brian being gone for a few days. He couldn’t understand why he was reacting similarly to how he had when Brian left him alone right after his bashing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Brian gently nudged his shoulder, but Justin gave him a small smile and shook his head as the door opened to reveal Dr. Savarese.

“Hello, Justin. I’m Dr. Savarese. I see here you believe you’re pregnant.” Dr. Savarese read from his file before looking up and giving him a smile.

They shook hands and then Dr. Savarese took a seat at the desk.

“My best friend is an ER doctor. She took my blood for some blood work a few days ago and it came back positive for pregnancy.” Justin brought his hands together in his lap and fiddled with his fingers.

“Have you been experiencing any symptoms?” Dr. Savarese looked at Justin. The man was older than even Brian and on the petite side. His eyes were dark brown but filled with warmth.

“I have vomited a few times a day. A few more than that if I find a smell my body can’t handle.” Justin shrugged as Brian smirked.

“Like the orange juice this morning.” Brian commented.

Justin shuddered at the memory of the acidic beverage coming back up. “Plus, I’ve been extremely exhausted.”

Brian didn’t flinch hearing that. Justin had been hiding it extremely well, but he knew that Brian had probably still noticed he wasn’t as energetic as usual.

“Have you noticed a change in your emotional reaction to things?” Dr. Savarese took some notes on his tablet.

“Not particularly.” Justin muttered, turning to look at Brian. The older man shrugged.

“I haven’t noticed anything major.”

“Before we do an ultrasound to attempt to see what’s going on I’d like to go over your medical history.” At the doctor’s words, Justin reached for Brian’s hand.

“You want his book of allergies now or later?” Brian attempted to joke.

“Brian, please take this seriously.” Justin sighed, his anxiety was ramped up and he couldn’t pinpoint why. “They have all that in my patient file because of the forms I had to fill out as a new patient.”

“Yes, it seems you are allergic to quite a few medications, Mr. Taylor. It also says here that you are on an anticonvulsant?”

“Umm. Yeah, I was injured when I was 18 by a bat to my head. I still get minor seizures to my hand. I take the medication to prevent more significant problems.” Justin bit his lip.

“Have you ever had a major seizure?” Dr. Savarese’s face turned pinched and concerned. “I ask because if you are pregnant anticonvulsants can cause problems with the baby. We’ll want to assess the risk of taking you off them for the duration.”

“He had a significant seizure right after his injury occurred and then once more a few years later when he had an extremely high fever due to the flu. That was when he started the medication just to be safe.” Brian supplied as Justin struggled to find his voice.

Just then, Justin’s hand spasmed up again. This time the pain was so sharp Justin had to cradle his hand against his chest. Brian stood up and moved in place against Justin so he could lean on him while Brian massaged his hand again.

“Does that happen often?” Dr. Savarese pointed to Justin’s hand.

“Only when he’s using his hand too much or gets stressed. This is the second one in the past half-hour because the nurse wasn’t aware and checked his blood pressure on this arm.” Brian supplied and Justin breathed through the pain.

“Alright, I would like to confer with your neurologist after we are finished here today.” Dr. Savarese gave Justin a half-smile and turned back to his tablet, scrolling through Justin’s patient file.

“Aside from the TBI and your allergies, are there any other chronic conditions we should be aware of? Heart condition? Diabetes?” Dr. Savarese looked up again and waited for Justin to have the focus to answer.

“No, but Brian is a Type 1 Diabetic and Cancer Survivor.” Justin finally muttered. “Here’s hoping you don’t pass on those genetics.”

“Kid’s got jokes.” Brian commented, his hand squeezing Justin’s shoulder in comfort.

“It is important to note things in your medical history as well, Brian. After all, this child is a mix of both of you.” Dr. Savarese smiled at the couple. “Alright. Now, Justin, I need you to lie back and lift up your shirt.”

Justin did as Dr. Savarese asked. He looked over at Brian who moved with Justin so as to stand near Justin’s shoulder. The two watched each other in silence, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as a monitor was brought over. They were going to see if the blood work was accurate.

“Do we have an idea of when this might have happened?” The doctor asked as he grabbed a squeeze bottle of gel and warmed it up in his hands.

“We always use condoms, but on New Year’s Eve we were extremely inebriated so we don’t remember the state of things as it were.” Brian responded before Justin could even process the question.

“So, we’re thinking it’s around 10 weeks.” Dr. Savarese nodded and squeezed the gel onto Justin’s abdomen. Justin hissed as the cool substance hit his skin.

“Sorry, it’ll warm up shortly.” The doctor apologized, “If the calculations are correct we should be able to see the fetus just fine.”

Justin and Brian smirked at one another as the doctor mentioned the gel warming up. They were well aware how quickly gels could warm up. Then, Dr. Savarese was telling them their child was up on the screen and Justin’s breath caught in his throat.

There on the screen was a tiny little blob that had a clearly defined head and stubby limbs. He squeezed Brian’s hand even tighter.

“Bri…” Justin muttered in a breathless voice. “That’s our baby.”

“Holy shit.” Brian muttered.

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Dr. Savarese’s voice floated through their amazement at the image of their baby on the screen.

Justin tore his eyes away and stared at the doctor. “Can we really? Already?”

The doctor nodded, “You are measuring at 10 weeks exactly.”

Then he pressed a button and the room was filled with the sound of their baby’s heartbeat. Justin couldn’t believe the extremely rapid whooshing sounds were his child. The child that he was carrying inside him. He turned to look at Brian and saw the man had tears in the corners of his eyes. Justin smiled up at him and squeezed their hands again. Brian smiled at him and wiped at his tears.

“Guess this is really happening then.” Brian finally muttered. “Part of me thought this was all a hoax.”

“Me too.” Justin whispered. “But, that’s very real.”

—---

An hour later, Brian and Justin were sitting in the back of a cab headed home. Justin held the ultrasound in his hand. He couldn’t stop running his finger over the lines that made up the shape of their child. Holy fuck they were having a whole ass child.

“We should tell Gus.” Justin stated, his voice hushed, still in awe of everything.

“We should. Do we want to do it tonight or in a few weeks when you hit the second trimester?” Brian asked, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulder allowing his hand to come and rest on Justin’s abdomen.

“I think we should do it tonight. We are going to Pittsburgh this weekend. And the family is bound to realize, considering how often foods make me nauseous.” Justin shrugged.

“Oh, we are going are we?” Brian smirked. “I didn’t know you were tagging along. Don’t you have work next week?”

“Nope. Spring Break. I told you two weeks ago I would be off the third week of March.” Justin finally looked up, making eye contact with Brian.

“I didn’t know we’d discussed this.” Brian replied.

“Do you not want me to go?” Justin’s voice wobbled as tears pricked behind his eyes.

Brian saw Justin was on the verge of tears, so he gathered the man up in his arms. “No, not at all. I’d love for you to come. We just hadn’t officially discussed it.” Then he placed a kiss on Justin's temple.

Just then, the cab pulled up to their brownstone. The two climbed out and Brian handed the driver a few bills to cover the charge plus a hefty tip. Justin waited for him on the stoop to avoid going inside and immediately coming in contact with Gus. Brian wrapped his arm around Justin’s waist and they both entered their home. Justin couldn’t help the mushy smile that graced his face at the intimacy Brian was showing him now that they’d officially seen their baby. The sound of someone in the kitchen let them know that Gus was indeed home before them.

Turning the corner, Brian and Justin came face-to-face with not only Gus but Isaac as well. Justin couldn’t wipe the smile off his face fast enough. Gus clocked it immediately and approached them.

“Hold on mom, Dad and Justin just walked in.” Gus turned his phone around to show that Lindsay was on FaceTime with their son.

“Hello, Wendy!” Brian smiled and then moved toward the bathroom, officially leaving Justin to deal with Lindsay and Gus on his own.

Justin shook his head and ducked to hide his knowing smile. “Hey Linds. How are you guys doing?”

“Mel and I are great. J.R. is feeling better than she was this morning. I was just checking in with Gus.” Lindsay looked as though she wanted to ask more questions, but surprisingly Gus cut her off.

“Alright, ma. I will talk to you tomorrow. Love ya.” Then he hung up before she could say more than just her sentiments of mutual love.

Justin walked to the refrigerator and opened it looking for something to whip up quickly for himself and Brian. He called over his shoulder to Gus and Isaac who were still hanging around the kitchen.

“Hey, did you guys eat?”

“Depends. Are you asking because you just want to know or because you’re trying to decide how much to cook?” Gus quipped back, coming to stand next to Justin.

Justin rolled his eyes, turned completely around to face Isaac, “Did you guys eat and are you still hungry?”

Isaac awkwardly looked down at his lap and shrugged his shoulders. Justin smiled and pulled out enough chicken to feed four people. His mind wandered as he cooked. They hadn’t discussed it, but Justin really wanted to tell Gus and Isaac together about the new development in their lives. The chicken was almost done cooking in the oven when Justin’s stomach rolled. He decided to step out of the kitchen until it calmed down.

“Hey, Gus, could you finish the potatoes and take out the chicken when the timer dings?” Justin looked at the younger brunet.

Gus looked at him quizzically, but didn’t say anything as he nodded. Isaac stood up and smiled.

“I’ll help!”

Justin smiled at the teen and squeezed his shoulder as he passed by the blond. “Thanks, Isaac.”

Justin trudged back toward the bathroom where Brian had disappeared. He knew Brian was probably processing everything they’d learned today. The younger man wanted to give his partner the time and space he needed, but they also needed to discuss how they were going to handle everything. With a soft knock, Justin opened the door to the bathroom. He found Brian sitting on the closed toilet, staring at his hands as his fingers interlocked and came apart in a nervous motion.

“Hey,” Justin knelt down to be on Brian’s level. “Talk to me.”

A silence hung in the air as Justin waited for Brian to respond. After what felt like hours, Brian finally looked up and Justin saw his eyes were stormy, but not in an angry way.

“I never wanted kids. I never wanted to risk becoming the drunk asshole that my father was.” Brian whispered.

“I think Gus is proof that you aren’t him. But, if this isn’t something you want…” Justin couldn’t even voice the quiet part out loud.

Brian reached forward, bringing his hand around to cup the back of Justin’s head, “No. I meant that I never wanted kids, but now I can’t imagine us not having this kid. It’s crazy. I hadn’t felt anything one way or the other about you being pregnant until the doctor turned on their heartbeat. It suddenly hit me that I wanted nothing more than to have this baby and raise it with you.”

“Bri,” Justin didn’t have words for the emotions suddenly coursing through him at Brian’s words. Here was a man who for so long dug his heels in about being reminiscent of happy, married heteros and now he was embracing the prospect of having a family with Justin wholeheartedly. Sure, they’d helped guide Gus in his teenage years, but before that Brian had been able to prove his queerness by reminding Justin they weren’t a typical couple.

Brian leaned forward and kissed Justin on the lips. When he pulled back he was smiling. “I hope they are just like you.”

“Considering we have our hands full with your mini me, I’d have to agree.” Justin laughed. “Speaking of which. I want to tell them both.”

Even though Brian didn’t say it, Justin knew he was terrified as hell at the prospect of this new life. Sure, he wanted it, perhaps even as much as Justin, but there was something still scaring him about it all. Brian’s tight hold on his hand as they walked back toward the kitchen proved that.

“Should we do it tonight, over dinner? Or wait?” Brian whispered as they walked.

“I think tonight. We never know when Isaac is going to come around these days.” Justin replied, reaching up to kiss Brian on his cheek.

As they stepped into the dining area just off the kitchen, Justin saw that the boys had set the table and everything was ready to be served. Justin smiled at Gus and Isaac alike. The latter was putting food portions onto four different plates. So, Justin walked up behind him, ruffled his hair, and complimented him on doing a great job. Despite having spent many days at their home over the past 4 years, Isaac still felt insecure whenever he attempted to do something nice for others.

“Wow, dinner looks great. I’m a lucky man.” Brian smiled at Justin, Gus, and Isaac.

“Who are you and what have you done with my father?” Gus looked at Brian’s cheerful demeanor suspiciously. “I thought it was bad enough when you both came home smiling but chalked it up to you probably having a quickie in the cab. But, now it’s just getting weird.”

Justin choked on the water he had just started to sip. Brian snorted and then laughed. “I guess we deserve that. After all, Gus has walked in on us many times.”

“Yeah, but now it’s just weird. You are never this happy. Or if you are, you never show it. Please extract the pod person from your brain so we can go back to normal.” Gus looked between Brian and Justin as the two held hands and smiled at one another.

“Actually, Sonny Boy, there is something Justin and I need to tell you.” Brian muttered, his eyes still on Justin.

Isaac stayed quiet, but started to look nervous. So, Justin let go of Brian’s hand and gave the other teen his full attention. “We wish to tell you as well. After all, you’re part of this family too.”

Isaac smiled a bit at that comment. It warmed Justin’s heart knowing that the love and care he and Brian had given this boy over the years was very much appreciated. He reached over the table and squeezed Isaac’s hand.

“Okay. What’s going on? If you guys were splitting up you wouldn’t be smiling about it. Same goes for if Dad’s cancer was back. So what is it?” Gus wasn’t going for patience.

Justin took a deep breath and looked Gus squarely in the eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonogram picture. He quietly handed it over to Gus, who immediately grabbed it. Isaac and Gus poured over the image in silence while Justin nervously watched them.

“So, you’ve hired a surrogate? I mean, that’s what Uncle Mike and Uncle Ben did when they had Violet.” Gus glanced from Justin to his Dad. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were thinking about having a baby?”

“It’s not a surrogate.” Isaac mumbled, then he pointed to the top of the image so that Gus could see. “It’s Mr. Taylor.”

Gus’s face turned from intrigue to shock and back to intrigue in a matter of seconds. He looked up and passed his gaze between his two dads. Justin wished he could tell what Gus was thinking, but much like his father, the teen was adept at hiding his emotions from his face.

“What do you think?” Justin squeaked out. He nervously squeezed Brian’s hand.

“You’re pregnant? That’s a thing?” Gus asked in shock.

“How are you a chemistry major and you don’t know about male pregnancy?” Isaac added his two cents before turning to Brian and Justin. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Justin whispered.

“Look, I know it’s a thing. I just didn’t think my dads could be part of that.” Gus shrugged.

“Why not. They are male, therefore part of the phenomenon.” Isaac shrugged once more, turning back to the food in front of him.

His utter lack of shock or surprise eased a bit of the tension in Justin’s shoulders, but not all of it. After all, Gus had yet to say how he felt about it. Justin bit the inside of his cheek and watched as Gus continued to stare at the sonogram picture.

“Cool.” He shrugged and handed the image back to Justin. Then he dived into his food without another word.

Justin got up from the table. Gus hadn’t outright said he hated the news, but he also hadn’t been enthusiastic for it either. The blond needed some time to himself. Besides, his stomach was resisting the idea of eating anything at the moment. As he sat down on his and Brian’s bed he casually wondered how Brian was handling his sudden departure from the table.

His mind wandered to his own experiences with his father. Justin had always wanted to have kids and to be the best father he could be. When he was younger he’d thought he would emulate his father because the man had always been wonderful toward him. But, then he’d come out and things devolved quickly, forcing Justin to realize he needed to emulate someone else if he ever wanted to be a dad. Then, when things got serious with Brian he knew fatherhood was never going to be anything more than part-time thanks to Brian’s lack of interest in having a child outside of the one he fathered for Mel and Linds.

Justin is pulled from his thoughts by the feel of Brian’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the older man with concern all over his face. Justin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced himself to smile up at Brian.

“I’m sorry.” Justin heaved, trying to avoid the emotions threatening to boil over.

Brian sat down next to him. He pulled Justin against his chest. “Sorrys are bullshit. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“But, Gus didn’t do anything wrong.” Justin mumbled against Brian’s chest. “Besides, he has every right to resent this baby. Considering the evolution of your relationship with him.”

“He can feel how he feels about it, but he still should’ve been more considerate in how he reacted.” Brain rubbed his hand up and down Justin’s back.

“Brian, he didn’t exactly react at all. I’m just being overly sensitive. I’m happy about this so I hoped everyone else would be.” Justin nuzzled his head into Brian’s neck.

“Just give him time. He will come around. You can’t forget he’s still cagey sometimes about the whole arrangement you and I have. He’s a teenager.” Brian shrugged.

Justin pulled back in surprise. “When did you become the logical, steady one in this relationship?”

“I’ve always been mature and logical.” Brian smirked, knowing full well he used to be a petty mess when he didn’t get his way.

“Sure,” Justin chuckled and then stood up. “I’m hungry. Don’t wait for me.”

#queer as folk #brian kinney #justin taylor #brian x justin #fanfiction #diabetes universe #alternate universe #cw mpreg

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artemiseamoon · 2 years ago

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Back on

Older Detective! Javier Peña

An: Look I’m on break and this just happened I had to get it out. If I expand I’ll post the fuller version to Ao3, when and if that happens. Did I bang this out frantically in 10 minutes? Yes I did. :)

Warnings: an unsolved case involving a killer

He has a family now. Married with two kids, even a damn dog: the whole picture perfect life. The kind of life he never imagined from his DEA days, or when he made the switch to detective after being sent home for a major fuck up.

That was a life time ago. He’s retired now, well he was until he got that phone call. Javier Peña had many ghosts; they lurk in the shadows and hide deep in his memories.

Shoved deep in the crevices are his memories of his fuck ups and things he could never come back from in his career, with that lies his one unsolved case.

Peña has a near perfect record, almost 100% cases solved. There was just one that got away from him; one case collecting dust and withering away in the unsolved files.

The outer world moved on years ago, but it never left Javier and he continued to feel for the family he couldn’t get justice for.

Many years later, that phone rang; a lead.

He still recalls the look on her face when he hung up, she knew before he could tell her.

Javier met his wife shortly after his career switch, when he was back home on his fathers farm and feeling miserable, then she came into his life and changed it forever.

And though she had the normal worries of a detectives wife, the thing that scared her most was this: the unknown killer was one of the most violent they’re ever seen.

“I just want you safe, but I understated. It’s unfinished business.” She said as she pulled him into a hug.

In his younger years he wasn’t really a hugger, never really knew what to do with them, but now he loves them, he loves the comfort and warmth.

“I have to catch this guy, I have to go back.” Javier said, his nose in her hair.

“I know, I know.” She whispered softly, caressing his back now.

Javier’s using the shed, all the evidence spread out.

He’s stared at this for hours, his eye’s are crossing now and the second cup of coffee wasn’t doing shit.

He almost stepped out to buy some cigarettes, but decided against it. He gave up that habit, trying to keep it that way but this case might drive him back into the arms of nicotine.

Forgoing the coffee, he goes for a beer then returns to the single chair. Seated again, his eyes travel the evidence board, looking at all this with the new lead in mind.

A certain picture captures his attention. Putting beer down, Javier goes to it and takes it down from the wall.

“Fuck-“ he scans it, then goes back to the board, looking closely.

He must have gone over this stuff a hundred times and the missing piece neatly drive him to insanity.

Now, now he has it.

“Got you asshole.” He rests on hand on his hip, taking in the whole board, “got you.”

More Pedro (Javi on this list)

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#Javier Peña #detective Javier Peña #married javier Peña #oc wife

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theoutcastauthor · 1 year ago

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About My Blog

Hello! Welcome to my writing blog account! I’m so excited to join the writing community here!

I plan on changing the name of this account once I figure out a more suitable pen name but for now you can call me “Outcast” or “Crazy” (my usual usernames), “Annabel” (my real name), “Caye” (my middle name), or “Author” (what my readers mostly just refer to me as). You can also call me any variation of those names if that’s easier for you (people often like to abbreviate or shorten my names, or use honorifics of whatever language they are fluent in). If there is anything else you’d like to call me for whatever reason, I’ll most likely be okay with it, and it might even help me get ideas for my pen name, so really you can call me just whatever you wish or feel like calling me (obviously within reason though). And for your further information, I use she/her pronouns and identify as cis-female.

I know many writers use Tumblr to post their fics. Since I’ve been busy and burned out and unable to write and post as much I would like on Wattpad or AO3, I decided to make a Tumblr to share my WIPs to my readers so they can keep better track of the books and fics they have been anticipating for, and maybe I’ll even attract new readers from Tumblr and get to expand my reader base in the process. Overall though, I intend to make this a fun space for my works and readers! I plan to share information on characters, lore, random drabbles, scene snippets, even full chapters as I write them, and much more… Of course, you’ll get to see me ramble and rant about my ordinary life on occasion as well, since this is a blog after all. It’s basically going to be how I would have set up a Patreon if I had one, except without the paid membership.

For my newcomers, I write a bit of everything! But I’ve mainly been focusing on romance and various fanfics these past couple years, and that is what I will be mainly posting on here for now. You’ll probably notice that a good amount of my works feature power couples and some form of enemies to lovers. My books can get really dark but I have books that are lighter than others as well.

I initially was going to make an introduction of sorts to celebrate me creating a Tumblr account but I couldn’t decide if that was necessary. In the end I decided to just get the most important things I wanted to say out of the way instead of giving random trivial facts about me. I might give a better introduction about myself later when I get more followers or as people ask about me (perhaps a QnA?). Though you just might gradually find out about me as time goes on.

#blog intro #writeblr #new account #greetings

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lightlycareless · 1 year ago

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Chapter 33 - thoughts.

Hello everyone!! I'm here... again... after disappearing for like 2 weeks lol.

Allot of things happened, between my birthday, surprise visits, me getting sick, me getting sick again, and con's... yeah, I was quite busy (and good thing I postponed the next update lol am I jinxing myself tho?) but I didn't forget writing them notes!!!

I'm sorry it took a while for me to post them, but they're finally here! They're quite short since there isn't much for me to expand on this chapter :> (which you can find over here.... hehe) but I still hope you find them interesting!

Per usual, this post has spoilers so I recommend reading the chapter first, unless you want to get spoilers with no context lol. Also, this is briefly, (mainly not) proofread so I apologize for any mistakes 😭

Now, without any further ado, here are the notes!

As some chapters in the past, I had some issues figuring out what I wanted for an introduction.

I already knew what points I wanted to cover, but there are moments where I have issues connecting those points, so after a while thinking about it, I finally decided to go with the one thing I had talked about in the past, but never really show, that being: Y/N’s letters to Hinata!

Now, it goes without saying that these letters had to be treated carefully since Y/N is meant to be locked away from the world and all that stuff. So, there wasn’t much to be written in that sense, Y/N wouldn’t go ahead to literally write down all of the things she had gone through while on the estate.

Of course, that soon changed when she began to feel some kind of cathartic release while writing them, as well as a feigned sensation that she was actually speaking to Hinata.

Going back to those letters after I was done writing them was bittersweet. After knowing all that happened all I could think of is “NO, THAT’S NOT TRUE AT ALL!!” 😭😭😭 (on the fabricated ones right) and the way that Y/N was trying so hard to act as if she was living a normal life, like she was contacting her sister as she always did because they couldn’t meet due to her job… ☹ It’s nothing but a lie, a longing for a happy life, in a happy marriage, maybe where Naoya wasn’t her husband but instead anyone else lol.

Ugh, he’s a terrible, poor excuse for a human being. I’m excited for next chapter 😊

Anyways, I added a few details I thought would fit Y/N’s personality, how she would normally “text”, for example, kaomoji’s. It might be a bit… redundant I guess, but it’s the small things that help remind me she’s just 18, super young and already having gone through all this. (Also the first letter made me think that maybe I’m being too serious/dramatic with certain conversations, you know? Like chill, that’s your sister you’re talking/writing to lol)

My favorite letter would have to be the “I hate Naoya” one, inspired by a segment found in the Twilight saga, specifically on New Moon, right after Edward leaves Bella and there’s just chapters that only October, November, that kind of stuff. At one point I was tempted to upload a chapter that only said “I hate Naoya” over and over again and call it a day 😂 (I would’ve posted the rest of the chapter immediately after, but damn … I just might do that later on)

When doing the final editing on the ao3 page, just to check how the chapter was going to look published, I was very surprised to see that segment wasn’t very long… I ended up extending a few “I hate Naoya’s” just because, but I still wasn’t satisfied, considering it was one whole page on my google doc, but I think it still got the point across lol.

From there, the other thing that I wanted to show (and the one that seems to have yall divided 🤭) is Naoaki! And how their dynamic has changed. The staff and Ranta have stated that the two (mostly Naoaki tho) had become a bit bolder with their interactions, and I wanted to show just what they were doing for them to come to that conclusion—cause we’ve seen how they be acting inside closed doors AMIRITE? AAHHAHA

This part was particularly… well, I don’t know if hard is the right word, but I was heavily debating whether to write it in or not because, (I think I stated this before) I don’t want to cross certain lines with the two just yet. This is a Naoya/Reader fic at the end of the day, and reader being with someone else that’s not of the main pairing is…. Well, idk how to say it, a trope that if not handled carefully might sour the story for me lol.

Ahhh, I still want the harem experience though 😂 I can’t seem to understand myself. We’ll see.

My initial notes portrayed Naoaki to be a bit more insistent on the… you know, implications given throughout the whole the grape feeding thing. I supposed it made sense he’d want something more since the two had been going at it for a while, however, I do not think he would’ve been that adamant after her initial rejection.

Sure, he’s been a bit more comfortable with her as days went by and there’s many things that already happened between the two to build a stronger trust, but this specific desire might be a bit too much in this context, so he respected her decision and stopped insisting.

Also, let’s be real, Y/N has too much in her mind to go through with it. She might think of it, cause she’s human at the end of the day and who doesn’t like being doted by a nice, kind and handsome person???, but all that Naoya has done to her is still taking a toll on her.

I haven’t explored much about this topic, but most sexual acts disgust her at this point—it brings her back to the moments she was absolutely miserable with him. So yeah, at least for now, we can rest knowing Naoaki and Y/N are occupied thinking of other things (for now, for now mwahahah)

From there, Mariya’s secret makes its return. It’s here that I realized this is probably the most Mariya has spoken of her relationship with anyone outside her parents (More on that later) thus… it’s only natural that someone would overhear of it eventually.

All things considered, perhaps Hitomi being the one to hear about this wasn’t as bad as literally anyone else, but it’s the emotional value of their connection that worries her!! Hitomi is very… strict when it comes to following the rules, looking up to Mariya as a role model because of such thing��she wishes to have her work ethic, her determination… And Mariya knows that. It’s why she feared telling anyone from her close coworkers to begin with.

Haruko would be somewhat ok with her having a relationship with a fellow employee, after overcoming her surprise of course, since she never, ever, imagined Mariya would break the rules lol. At the end, I imagine both sisters would be very supportive of her, just… not right away.

I find it funny how Hitomi was quick to become suspicious of Mariya as soon as Tatsuro was mentioned. It’s not the first time she’s heard her talk of a man, but rather… her use a tone that would be comparable to excitement. Now THAT’S suspicious.

But she’s unable to confront her since there really isn’t evidence of anything, it’s all in her mind right now. Also, Mariya isn’t known for being a so… yeah, still, very funny indeed. What do you think? Think she’s going to find out who Tatsuro is to Mariya? Or will that remain a secret 👀? (I don’t want Hitomi to know… I fear the reaction she’ll have :’) I actually wanted to develop more that whole scenario in this chapter, but it was getting a bit too long so I decided to postpone it ahaha)

Moving to something happier, Hitomi preparing Y/N a gift because she’s super thankful of her sweets?! Ajkajkgajkjga Her and her sister really couldn’t get any sweeter…. I want them to be happy, just go with Hinata and leave all this shit behind. 😭

Aw man, now I want to write something with all of them together, explore what kind of dynamics they would have and all that. (Well, I do have some pending one-shots… so who knows?)

Honestly these scenes are just excuses for me to live my slice-of-life, fluff fantasy in this nightmare I have written lol.

Now lastly, but not least… the mystery that plagued the last chapter… what the hell was Naoya doing the moment he briefly left Y/N on the record store? We only see him shove something in his pocket, but what is it?

Well, now it’s finally revealed… the thing he was hiding in his pocket was… a receipt! For the things that eventually got delivered to her :> Guess Naoya did pay attention to what Y/N was saying after all, although there’s another motive behind those gifts that will be revealed in the future. Oof, excited for what’s to come.

Y/N’s reaction regarding the discs was something I was the one thing I knew had to be in the chapter, if anything, all was written around that particular detail, there’s no doubt about that.

The way her reaction happened was the only way I envisioned it going down honestly 😂 blatant anger seemed to be… a bit too on the nose I guess, but if you think about it horror sometimes starts from there— So yeah, I couldn’t see her reacting any other way: Naoya has been nothing but piece of trash since they got married, and suddenly he cares for her and what she has to say? Naaahhhh.

It felt like a mockery to her, a way for him to taint whatever good memories she had of her family, so yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sad that she’s unable to react any other way 😣 wishing she wouldn’t have to get emotionally exhausted all the time, but in a place where she’s constantly attacked by everyone around her, and without the appropriate guidance to deal with her emotions, a completely different environment to the one she grew in… yeah, Y/N’s doing the best she can I guess.

Y/N’s decision (or more like approval via Mariya) regarding the relocation of the discs is one we’ll see further developed immediately in the next chapter, how it will affect her relationship with Naoya, as well as what he was doing during these days they didn’t speak to one another!

I’m really excited to post the next chapter, it’s one that I’ve been literally dreaming about!! I just hope I’ll be able to deliver. Agajkgvjkagja!!!!

Anyways, these are the notes I have for this chapter! They’re quite short, since it was straightforward and settled down some points that will affect the future of the story and I don’t think there is much for me to say outside what inspired me, but if there’s something I missed out on please let me know! I’ll do the best of my ability to respond ❤️

As always, thank you so much for coming back for another update! I’m eternally grateful for all of your support 😭❤️ I hope you have a wonderful week, take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

#thought series: first it hurts—

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a-lil-bi-furious · 2 years ago

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I posted 721 times in 2022

46 posts created (6%)

675 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@momentofmemory

@bericas

@scribeoffate

@scottappreciation

@spikeface

I tagged 709 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#teen wolf - 261 posts

#scott mccall - 143 posts

#kira yukimura - 67 posts

#teencrab2022 - 61 posts

#teen crab - 57 posts

#fic recs - 43 posts

#fanart - 36 posts

#legacies - 34 posts

#peter parker - 28 posts

#tvdu - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#especially happy with the anger and the heart wrenching grief scott expressed as he tried to process not only that he died—but that he maybe

My Top Posts in 2022:

38 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,941

Relationships: Scott McCall/Theo Raeken

for @spikeface

Breathing comes in short, quick bursts, Scott’s chest heaving. He pulls Theo’s hands away from his shoulders, grip tightening around forearms as he holds them out and away from him. Theo’s hands are relaxed and open, as close as he can manage to holding them up in surrender. He’s trying to show Scott they’re harmless.

They aren’t.

They are.

He doesn’t know.

Read on ao3

41 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Just a moody lil Sceo scene that might be expanded later:

Scott collapses the moment he reaches the bed’s edge. It’s nice to finally be off his feet—he isn’t sure how much longer he could have kept upright before passing out. It’s almost worse sitting down with the way his body bends, the movement pushing fresh blood past the coagulated mess binding flesh to polyester. He grimaces at the feeling, sickeningly warm.

Several moments pass; Scott sits completely still, barely breathing, eyes closed tightly and one hand pressed to his middle, willing the blood to stop flowing. Waiting to welcome numbness in pain’s stead.

When he opens his eyes Theo hasn’t moved a muscle, still standing halfway between the open door and the foot of the bed. His eyes are trained on Scott’s chest. Theo looks hunted. Not quite a deer in headlights, more like the wounded strays Scott handles at the clinic. Tense, uneasy.

Like if scott makes one wrong move he’ll run.

In which direction he’s not sure.

Scott feels oddly stripped, vulnerable, somehow both a threat and easy prey. He shifts uncomfortably under Theo’s gaze, wondering whether willing his hand to hide all the damage will magically make it happen. “Theo,” he starts, “You know you don’t have to…” Scott trails off, trying to read Theo’s expression. It’s unsettling, having no idea what Theo’s thinking. “I’ll heal,” he finishes.

“You sure about that?”

He isn’t.

He says, “I’ve survived worse.”

Theo visibly pales, eyes shifting from Scott to glance aimlessly around the room. Scott notices the way Theo curls his fingers inward before slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, out of sight.

45 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

so when do talia and margot get to kiss huh?? where are the milfy violent delights?

All I’m saying is if the kids get to kiss their enemies so do the moms. it’s basic math

130 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I just know in my heart Scott McCall is the type of person who accidentally ends up with like 10 pets as an adult because he just brings strays home and every time says “just until she heals!” or “until we find a good home!” but in the other arm he clearly has a giant bag with a pet bed and a collar with a name tag. Even MORE likely if endgame Scira. You could not convince me Kira wouldn’t show up with a lil bunny scooped in her arms at least once like “it’s only fair.” And they’re just a happy lil family of 12(and counting, probably)

130 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblrwrapped2022 #love that a teen crab post is in the top 5

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builder051 · 2 years ago

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Hi, this isn’t a prompt, I just wanted to say you’re one of my favorite writers for multiple fandoms and I really love your work. It’s actually been years since I first started reading fanfic, jeez it was since before I was even in high school, and I always find myself coming back to your fics. That’s all, have a good day🫶

Thank you! You’re so unbelievably kind. Hearing feedback from readers is so helpful, both in motivation to create content, and in just feel-good friendship.

I, too, was an avid fanfic connoisseur since age 12 or so, and I’m so glad you’ve had fun reading my writing. I have a hard time rating my stuff as teen, adult, explicit, etc. on AO3 as well as on here, though I do try consistently tag my work and provide content warnings. I hope I haven’t scarred anyone for life with my…unsavory content?

I’m so happy to receive kind messages like this; they definitely reignite my motivation to create and post. Tbh, I have two really well-developed fics (powers/no powers and chasing ghosts). I also have WIPs that are on my scratch pad that I need to type up and proof and post. I’m having a bear of a time keeping the stories concise (like < 2 or 3 k). I like introductions where we acclimate to the characters and who is speaking and acting, and I also like subliminal backtracking so we as writers and readers can refresh the ‘verse and assign the correct backstories to the characters in the categories in the ‘verse.

I also know the strong connections we develop with those knock-your-socks off stories, whether because of that one line or that one chilling description… I’ve had a hall’o’fame list since long before I started my own content. (There’s a link to that list in the expanded text of the bio at the top of the blog.)

Thanks for the wonderful, cheerful message. You know I’m still way underwater with schedules and stuff, but I’m attempting to put in some personal time where I can work on a project. (Currently cuddling in the hammock chair with my National Geographic is kinda the go-to). I have so many stories in my head, both as more Marvel fanfic, as well as OC modern/historical/fantasy ideas. I swear the little buggers come in like ear mites and start jabbering with all this dialect and dialogue and specific scenes. I’m running as fast as I can to put them to paper before they all fly away. It’s good fodder for self-pub on KindleVella, or, if it has a more substantial plot, something might turn out to be a note for this years’ NaN0. (Although I have three very lengthy unfinished manuscripts—I’ll settle on something later summer or fall.

I’m also looking forward to events, like CA birthday challenges in July, Marvel medical differences/chronic illness challenge in August, I think, and, of course, Whumptober ( + Inktober). No promises for consistency which any of that, but our new schedule (heavily reworked for consistency among the autistic and ADHD-diagnosed parties in our family. I am trying to take some private time a few times a day for undisturbed art and writing and magazine reading, but my attention span and lack of stamina contribute heavily to, well… some slow going.

Ok. I’ve talked way too much. 💝 to you, anon. Thanks for getting in touch.

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clearancecreedwatersurvival · 1 year ago

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The double necromancer griddlehark prompt is Very good, thank you.

Also people keep saying ‘if you’re still taking prompts’ Yes. I’m still taking prompts. Until I change the original post or like shut down the askbox I’m still taking prompts. The final drafts of the fics may not be published on ao3 till February or March at this point with how many I have, but I might just leave the post up for all of NaNo we’ll see how I’m feeling. As a reminder, each fic prompt will be answered with a completed Drabble on here during November, and then most or all of those will be expanded into longer oneshots to be published on ao3 later after I do a couple rounds of drafting and rewrites and edits.

I am really big on character analysis, doing character studies based on the source material is part of what makes fic fun for me, so some of these requests will definitely require me reviewing certain parts of their canons. No tlt ones till later in the month when I have time to reread gtn. Wheel of time requests (would love some more of those tbh) will be first along with haikyuu, because I am currently working on the wot video essay and rewatching haikyuu for fun.

I might stop accepting prompts if I get a truly overwhelming number but at the very least I’m still waiting for SOMEone to send me an UkaTake prompt. Someone out there has gotta be hankering for one of those.

Thank youuuuu to the person who sent me a namivivi request much appreciated.

Everyone else?? Get on it.

Send me NaNo Fic Prompts

#Caitie speaks #prompt fic

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healerelowen · 2 years ago

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I gots some more headcanons and imagines for you all to feast on while I get a few things going.

Leshy prepping his nest before he goes to sleep, then he goes, “Hm, something is missing, oh yes!” Then he rushes off and comes back holding his partner like a kitten and softly drops them into the nest.

P03 bonks people/things he loves with its screen. It’s not something that he’s learned to do in a relationship, no no. It’s a natural behavior that all bots do! Meaning that the Inspector, Melter, and Dredger all do this as well. Maybe even the Uberbots too. (This is based off of ShioCreator’s fic, “Almost Murder Was Not The Intention” on Ao3. I’m just expanding the idea more.)

All of the others that live in the land of beasts (Angler, Prospector, Trapper, and Trader) their eyes also turn red whenever they’re angry.

I like to imagine that the Challengers are the definition of ‘Fuck around and find out’.

If P03 can purr, that definitely means that the other Uberbots can too;

-Archivist’s purr is soft and soothing, gently rumbling against the metallic frame of her body.

-The Photographer’s purr is very low and deep, rumbling loudly as it gently bonks whoever or whatever it’s purring at with its ‘face’.

-The Unfinished Boss’s purr has a rather odd pitch to it. Their purr occasionally will have a sort of beep or chirp at random.

-G0lly’s purr is high pitched and squeaky. Unlike the Unfinished Boss, G0lly will let out beeps and chirps whenever she gets even more happy and excited rather than uncontrollably.

-Extra: P03’s purr is not too low and not too high, a solid middle ground pitch. Will quietly let out a beep or two on occasion.

Which Scrybe enjoys stargazing the most? (In order of greatest to least)

Leshy

-Leshy enjoys stargazing whenever he can. He finds it a very relaxing activity, one of his favorites in fact.

2. P03

-P03 would never admit it, but he actually is really curious about astrology, it's just not one of its main focuses.

3. Grimora

-Doesn’t see stars as often as she would like to, but when she does, she enjoys gazing up at them with her ghouls.

4. Magnificus

-Doesn’t stargaze as a hobby, however he does use them as reference for his art.

The Reader in the Chaoscule has a scar on their right eye from Act 1.

Everytime Leshy looks at it, he feels guilty. (I will provide a visual example sooner or later.)

All of the Scrybes have a soft spot for kids. All of them (some more than others).

For example;

Leshy would prevent the child from using any items to hurt themselves.

P03 would probably go easy on them, especially if they’re struggling and might even teach them a thing or two along the way.

Grimora would also go easy on them and if they’re struggling will give them a few tips to help them.

Magnificus would probably take baby steps with them, teaching them about which cards to use for each turn, to the point where he’s hardly even playing anymore, he’s just teaching them about the Magick cards.

A little sneak peek into the ending per say of the Second Stoat Card Au, P03’s partner definitely thinks about teasing P03 about him being a stoat, but then decides not to as that was traumatizing for it and they don’t want to overstep that boundary. Character development 101.

When I said in my ‘How would the Scrybes protect their S/O’ post that nobody hurts Grimora’s partner, I did not mean she will ensue violence. Though that doesn’t mean she won’t give a sharp and stern talk to whoever hurt you. I could imagine that she has a sharp tongue and only uses this ability when she needs to.

#inscryption #inscryption p03 #inscryption leshy #inscryption grimora #inscryption magnificus #the second stoat card au #the chaoscule #the unfinished boss #the photographer #the archivist #inscryption g0lly #the angler #the prospector #the trader #the trapper #inscryption dredger #inscryption melter #inscryption inspector

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remosdeerica · 3 years ago

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Serial Adoption is Hereditary: The Series.

(Yes another series. Look, I have a very short attention span- I feel like most of y'all can relate- and I like to switch between various projects so I don't get too bored and drop them. Ya know?)

I’ve been using this as a tag for a couple of posts I’ve made about Damian inheriting Bruce’s habit of adopting people, but I actually came up with the concept for this series a few years ago.

I was pretty annoyed when instead of giving Damian an actual team of his own, DC just gave him the Teen Titans. They didn’t even try introducing new characters. They pretty much just copy/pasted Dick’s team (I know he has the makings of his own team now). Which unfortunately seems to be a theme with Damian and pretty much every Robin after Dick because DC writers don’t really seem to know what the word “creativity” means.

But anyway, I saw a post a million years ago (idk who it was by, sorry) about Damian finding and helping other kids who’s parents are criminals and helping them out cause he knows what it’s like to be in that situation- yada, yada. And thus the idea of a series where Damian collects various villain kids was born. (Disney's Descendants may have had some influence as well but I will neither confirm nor deny such claims)

I haven’t quite decided what to call them as a team yet (I’m stuck between The Renegades and The Rogues) as the whole point of the series is that Damian is just kinda collecting these kids as he find them with no real intentions of creating his own team or even training them how to fight. He just knows they need a safe space, he provides that, and then shit happens. But I do eventually want them to have their own name because team names are cool.

But I digress; Here is the team roster (might add some characters later but this seems to be the main few that I tend to settle on):

Damian Wayne/al Ghul: 17yrs, Villain affiliation- Thalia al Ghul/Ra's al Ghul

Colin Crain: 19yrs, Villain affiliation- Scarecrow (Jonathan Crain) *He’s not canon but he is loosely based off Colin Wilkes*

Lucy Quinnzel: 18yrs, Villain affiliation- Joker/Harley Quinn

Zoe Lawton: 13yrs, Villain affiliation- Deadshot (Floyd Lawton)

Lena Luthor: 17/18yrs, Villain affiliation- Lex Luthor

Hippolyta Milton: 16yrs, Villain affiliation- Ares (God of War)/Circe

Jon Kent: 20yrs, Villain affiliation- Jor-El *this series is actually where Dark-ish Jon was born! What a angry/tired boi. He is my son and I love him.*

Secret OC Kid That I Love But Might Be Hated For: -1yrs, Villain affiliation- Poison Ivy *kinda* ;)

There are actually a fair few villain kids in DC.

I’m sure Rose Wilson will pop up at times but I wasn’t feeling the vibes with her for the team.

The idea is to write a Oneshot series about how each of the kids came to be taken in by Damian and then just let shenanigans ensue.

I’ll be posting bio/backstory stuff on here and then further expanding upon things over on Ao3, like I'll be doing with The Demon Head Damian Wayne series.

So, yeah! What do we think?

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felicitysmoaksx · 3 years ago

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Hi! I'm sure you're all wondering what this is because I promised you all one more one-shot in the series but sadly plans change, and I don't think I have enough of an idea to post a full-fledged fic. So instead I'm posting this-which is deleted scenes, scenes that were written differently, and expanded scenes from the way they appeared in the series. In addition to the new ideas, I get for this universe that I don't think will work in a full-fleshed out fic!

And if you have any requests from this universe, drop them in my ask and I might just write them.

Summary: (How does one tell their platonic wife that they were in love with them? Connor’s asking for a friend.)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: None that I can see?

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | My Playlist for This Fic

Friends Don't Look at Friends That Way

Shit. Shit. He screwed up. Oh, he didn’t just screw up, he really fucked this up. The thought had been going through Connor’s mind since he pulled away from Sarah’s lips. A wide-eyed Sarah who by the way, was staring back at him. Connor felt his mouth open to say something… anything. Anything to get that deer-in-headlights look off of her face (though he didn’t know it, it wasn’t like he any better) Maybe something charming? Flirty? The look from Sarah’s face morphed into one that Connor wasn’t sure he liked. It looked like the time she was lost about a patient only more…morose?

“Sarah?” He questioned. Those brown eyes-the ones that he quickly learned he was immune to-met his. But see here lay a problem. What was he supposed to say? Because all Connor couldn’t think about was how soft his wife’s lips were or…

Someone bumped into them and apologized (Right they were in the middle of a gym, slow dancing with Sarah’s former classmates around them because they were at her class reunion) breaking whatever spell was on them.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” his wife told him abruptly and before he could even say anything, she had darted off in the direction of the gymnasium doors. But Connor let her hand slip easily from his grasp as he shuffled off the dance floor too because he didn’t know what he should say to her. Hell, he didn’t even know how to describe the feelings he had for her. (How does one tell their platonic wife that they were in love with them? Connor’s asking for a friend.)

Because he had been married to her for the last six months and every day, he could feel himself fall a little bit more in love with Sarah, no matter how cliche it sounded. Hell, by month three he had stopped referring to her as his platonic wife, and in-between months five and six, he had subdued his urge to kiss her lips by kissing her forehead or hair throughout the day. The kiss they just shared had completely blown that though because now he knew what Sarah’s lips tasted like, how soft they were…

“You okay?” Connor asked when Sarah came back ten minutes later and sat down beside him. She nodded. But after living with her for the last six months, he could tell that wasn’t the truth. She was sitting too rigid and as far away in her chair as she could get. (Did he make her uncomfortable with the kiss? Maybe she didn’t like him like that. After all, she kept correcting him when he called her his wife and he asked what would happen if he met someone. Had she?) However, Connor couldn’t press her about it with where they were at the moment. He sighed inwardly; he would have to wait until they got back to the hotel. In the meantime though, Connor grabbed Sarah’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Do you want to get out of here? I’m kind of tired.” Sarah said quietly to him an hour later, in the middle of a tedious conversation with Marnie Pipper and her husband. Nodding, he used the excuse that they had an early flight in the morning. (They didn’t need to know it was a little white lie) Then he helped Sarah out of her seat and wrapped his suit jacket around her frame. (Ever the doting husband) Pressing a hand against the small of her back, he guided her out of the school where she hailed them a cab to the hotel. The ride back was quiet. They couldn’t really talk with the driver in the front, so Connor kept quiet with his arm around Sarah’s shoulder. His thumb kept rubbing small circles into her shoulder.

Once the taxi pulled to a stop, his wife jumped out as if the seat was on fire. He quickly paid, ignoring the way the driver chuckled, “Got some groveling to do, don’t you son?”

Then he got out, slamming the door behind him as he followed after her. Sarah stormed into the hotel room, ignoring Connor’s calls for her to wait.

“Sarah, Sarah, stop.” When Connor finally made it to their room to see her pacing; he caught her arm and swung him around to face him. “Sarah, we need to talk about what happened.”

“Why did we-” Sarah had that morose look on her face again as started to say something, but he shook his head. “No, let me talk first, okay? It’s important.”

Brown eyes met his apprehensively before Sarah inclined her head. He sighed in relief. Leaning slightly into her, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead (Just like he thought, it wasn’t the same)

“We did all of this out of order,” He told her, stepping even more into her personal space, he wrapped Sarah’s arms around his neck again. His wife looked adorably confused as he grabbed her waist and it was like they were dancing again. While the former trauma surgeon couldn’t rewrite the past, he was determined to get as close as he could. Starting with everything that should’ve been said on that dance floor before they kissed. He started to sway slowly.

“You’re supposed to meet someone, become friends. Then fall in love and then get married. Do you know what Downey said to me before he died? Uncomplicate it, he was referring to our marriage. I didn’t do that though. Instead, I fucked it up.”

“I wanted to kiss you for a while now.” He admitted softly. Her face grew even more confused as she blinked at him, “What? Why?”

“Because I want you to wear your ring all the time. I want to wear my ring all the time. I don’t want to have separate bedrooms. I want you to take my last name for real. We can hyphenate it if you want. So you can be Dr. Reese at the hospital. Or you can be Dr. Rhodes too and we can confuse everyone at the hospital.”

“Connor, what are you talking about?”

“These past six months, I’ve fallen in love with you. So I want you to be my wife and not just in a platonic sense of the word, but in every sense of the word. I want it all with you. I’ve wanted it a while to be honest. That is if you feel the same way.”

“But what about Robin?” She asked. Confusion clouded Connor’s features as he processed her words. “Doctor Charles’ daughter? What about her?”

“She likes you. She asked me two weeks ago if we were together because she didn’t want to step on any toes.”

“What did you tell her?” Besides Dr. Charles and Mrs. Goodwin, no one knew they were married yet. Everyone else just thought they had grown close over the last year. His best friend shrugged, “You said we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. So I told her a version of the truth-we were best friends and roommates- because I’m in love with you and I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Connor felt his heart flutter and swoop. She loved him. Sarah was in love with him.

“You make me happy,” Connor told her earnestly, pulling her closer so there was no space between them. Now Sarah laughed softly and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“We’re idiots.” She declared and Connor nodded. His head now falling against Sarah’s forehead. When he spoke, his lips were ghosting over hers. “We are. But what is talking anyway?”

“Communication skills for grownups.” Sarah’s sarcastic reply made him snort.

“I’ll show you communication skills for grownups,” he told her before he leaned in and captured her lips for the second time that night. His lips moved slowly against hers because he wanted to savor the moment. Then slowly, ever so slowly he felt her mouth respond hesitantly against his. He felt her arms come up and then her hands were in his hair as she pulled him closer. Groaning, he moved to deepen the kiss.

Because he could. He could finally kiss his wife. His wife. His non-platonic wife. Damn, that felt good to say.

#Rheese #Connor Rhodes #Sarah Reese #Chicago Med #One Chicago #Sarah Reese x Connor Rhodes #Connor Rhodes x Sarah Reese #chicago med fanfiction #one chicago fanfiction #Married But As Friends Fic Series #My Writing

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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Late Night in the Library

Day 31, Post #1 by @sp0okynerd

Title: Late Night in the Library Author/Artist: AccioTardisKey (AO3+FFN) Pairing: Ron/Hermione Prompt: Studying together - also used the prompt "I just like hearing the sound of your voice" If you recognize it please let me know so I can credit Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

Rain pounded on the large windows of the Hogwarts Library, the rhythmic sounds almost like a lullaby. It was a dreary day, and these were especially good days for studying, if you were to ask Hermione. Ron tried his best to hold back a yawn, and failed, as he and Hermione reached the three hour mark of their study session.

The library was one of Ron’s least favorite places to study. The dim light often added to his desire to be sleeping. The table they sat at, in their usual back corner, was covered with stacks of books. He could barely see Hermione's hair over the top of some of the piles, and Ron laughed to himself as he wondered how close she was to reading every book in the building.

He decided he was going to take this year seriously, more than he had in the past anyway. Because of this, he had taken up the habit of sitting and studying with Hermione in the library and the common room, often long after everyone had gone up to their dorms. So he was here tonight partly because he needed help with his History of Magic essay, but mostly because he really just loved to be near her.

If he was lucky, he might convince her to stay up a little later for some ‘extra credit.’

She glanced at him momentarily as she flipped through a copy of History of Medieval Evil Doers. She looked very serious, her brows slightly furrowed, as she read. But he could see the corners of her mouth threatening a smile when their eyes met.

They were at the start of their 7th year at Hogwarts, where they were among the only ones from their year to come back after the war. Neville and a Ravenclaw named Lisa Turpin were the only others to join them. Ron had been wary of it at first; he didn’t know how he felt going back to the place that held some of his best and worst memories. Hermione did everything she could to convince him that finishing out his education was the right thing to do, and in the end he agreed with her. To his surprise, McGonagall had even decided to make him Head Boy.

“Part of me is so scared to return,” Hermione admitted to him one night at The Burrow. They were snuggled close on a couch in the living room, enjoying the fire and the rare quiet that occurred only in the late night hours of the usually loud home. “But - I’m also excited to spend this year with you.”

It wasn’t that he disagreed with her, because he was excited too. A year at Hogwarts with Hermione Granger on his arm? As his proper girlfriend? This was something that he thought could only exist in his wildest fantasy. Things were just so different now, in many more ways than just his relationship status. They had experienced life faster than one should, and as a result he felt like both an adult and a child at the same time. Harry seemed so sure of himself, and took up an offer to start training at the auror academy right as the summer ended. When Ron was given a similar offer, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The truth was, he didn’t know what direction he wanted to go. It was hard to decide what you want to do with your life when you’ve been chasing after dark wizards since age 11. He just didn’t see himself as an auror like Harry. He sometimes entertained the idea of helping George in the joke shop for a bit, but even that didn’t quite seem like a fit for him. Both of those would leave him still feeling in the shadow of someone else, and Ron Weasley was ready to find his own glory for once.

So finishing out school seemed like the best idea. Maybe this year would be better than his previous years. Maybe this time he would come across something that he truly enjoyed. Through all of this uncertainty, though, there was one thing he knew for sure. Wherever he went, he wanted a certain beautiful, bossy, and brave witch beside him.

Ron was beyond ready to tap out by the time he was finished with his essay. They needed to start rounds soon, but as usual Hermione still insisted there was just a little more work to be done. They were among the last in the library by this hour as curfew neared and his eyelids had begun to feel heavy.

He caught himself getting lost staring at the movement of her lips as she read a passage of the book out loud to him. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she read something that truly interested her, or how she would get just a little frazzled when she explained something to him that she was passionate about. He could watch her learn all day; it was one of his favorite looks of hers. When she learned, he could tell this was when she felt true joy. It was contagious, because every time he watched her he felt himself fall more in love with her.

He was beginning to fade, his head nodding along to the lulling sound of her voice. He let himself drift off, images of their expanding future entering his mind. A lot had changed between them since their kiss in the Room of Requirement, things beyond his wildest dreams. Things between them grew quite serious over the summer. He began to ponder some of these moments, especially the ones involving little amounts of clothing in the broom shed, when he heard her snap her fingers in front of him.

“Can you say that again?” He muttered, eyes still closed.

Hermione let out a small huff. “Were you not listening to me?”

Ron let out a small chuckle of amusement. He loved to push her buttons, especially since he knew just how to cheer her up now. “No I was, I just like hearing the sound of your voice.”

He let his eyes open to make contact with hers and he saw them immediately soften.

“I guess it is getting to be time for rounds. We better pack up,” Hermione said. She got up and started levitating a stack of books to send them to their correct locations one by one.

“Wanna snog a bit amongst the books before we go?” Ron said with a waggle of his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes at him, “so it's not a no, then?” And she gave him a laugh.

He took that as his answer as he stood up and closed the distance between them, one of the books crashing to the ground as she lowered her wand, but they didn’t even flinch. They were utterly lost in each other. And suddenly Ron had a new found love for the library.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione

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aknosde · 3 years ago

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Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

—————

Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

#percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #its been a while since i posted something for pjo #pjo #pjo fanfic #hoo fanfic #hoo #alea iacta est #Reyna!Swap au #chart writes #fic: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur #riordanverse #anyways I'm pretty happy with this and if you want some explanations or clarifications you can ask me or look at my final notes on ao3!#i already have another one in the works! it just needs to be beta read

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