#still have 'a father's embrace' kicking around in my brain

[generic-sonic-fan]

"Eggdad with Metal Sonic is so immature and too feel-good to be interesting"

You mean that it isn't interesting to watch Eggman learn to love something he modeled in the shape of his enemy? That he won't have any second doubts or deep-seated discomfort with confronting a more emotional side of himself? None at all? And that he's somehow going to know exactly how to deal with this newfound guilt around not treating Metal Sonic better from the get-go?

[ayyy-pee]

kind of wanna open my requests so i can flex my brain a lil bit. yall send me something to write! sldkfjksd PLSSSSSSSSS

Hi Lexi!! How’re you?? 🥹💕

Could I possible request… some fluffy dad Suguru content? 🥹🥹 I just… think he’s such a sweet dad ❤️ And so caring and adoring 🫶

Nonnie, I'm SO late answering this!! I'm doing well! I hope you are too!! I hope you enjoy this because fluffy dad Suguru also makes me meltttt. He is just such a perfect dad fr I hope you enjoy this and thank you for the request! ❤️

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

The first time Suguru holds his daughter, he is bewildered. The shock of watching her enter the world through you has not yet worn off and his mind is in overdrive. While the doctors and nurses work to ensure you’re healthy and in good condition, he’s handed this tiny human to care for in the meantime. And he has no clue where to start.

He simply watches her at first, amazed at how quiet she is, how her tiny hands are curled into fists and tucked under her chin. How her tiny chest rises and falls with calm breaths. And he’s amazed at how quiet you are, too. The baby’s entrance into the world was an emotional one for you both, Suguru holding your hand tightly as you pushed yourself to the brink of exhaustion to bring life into this world. You’re lying in bed with your eyes closed as you catch your breath and Suguru can’t help but stare at both you and your daughter.

She looks like you, he thinks. As she dozes in his embrace, he sees the uncanny resemblance. She has your best features – your nose, your cute pout, she even has a tuft of hair sitting atop her head that Suguru is certain will one day match your color and texture. He begins to wonder if he was even in the room when she came to be. This baby is all you.

But, he supposes he’s lucky. He can’t be unhappy about that. You’re wondrous. Even as you lie exhausted and sweaty, Suguru finds you to be the most ethereal being he’s ever seen. Strong, too. He’s certain he doesn’t know a single person in the world that is stronger than you right now. He definitely doesn’t know anyone as generous as you. To gift him something so extraordinary. He’s not sure he could ever express his gratitude.

The first tiny hiccup Suguru hears from his child makes him stand straighter, eyes wide as he peers down at her. And then another hiccup happens, followed by rapid breaths, a little pouty mouth that opens to let out quiet sobs. He looks at you in panic, but you meet his fear with a gentle expression on your face. One that holds encouragement, because you know that he needs it. You know he’s never seen himself as a father, never been confident in being one.

You know that he’s scared.

But you give him the boost he needs, gently rocking his baby in his arms, cooing softly. It’s like instinct kicking in. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He bounces the newborn, slowly walking around the hospital room as he tries to calm the baby. The cries quiet down gradually, the tight expression on her little face softening. “I’m here. Daddy’s here.”

And his heart swells as the cries stop, as her face relaxes, as his words comfort his child enough that she opens her eyes for the first time since coming into the world. She peers up, and Suguru stands still, heart nearly stopping when he sees violet eyes exactly like his own staring back at him. It’s the only thing it seems he’d passed on to her.

You are perfect. So incredibly perfect. He can’t believe what he’s seeing, that he’s holding such magnificence in his arms.

“See?” You call quietly to him from your bed. The doctor and nurses have given you the green light, letting you know they will be back to check on you soon. So it’s just you, him and the tiny world you’ve created together in Suguru’s embrace. Your eyes light up from across the room, guiding Suguru to your bedside where you smile softly as he leans forward to hand you the baby. “You’re already such a good dad. Himari is so lucky to have you.”

- - Six Years Later

“Daddy, hurry up!”

“Hold on! I need to fix my hair! Almost done!”

“Ooh! I wanna help!”

A quiet chuckle can be heard from behind Suguru as he sits in front of the vanity in the bathroom. You’re brushing through his hair, which has grown exponentially over the years. As you stroke through the strands, Suguru hums softly, a small smile curling on his lips when he hears the tiny footsteps slapping against the hardwood floors.

“She’s coming,” you tease, a sing-song lilt in your voice. You set the brush down on the vanity, stepping aside carefully as Suguru stands. He takes your hand in his, pulling you close. Well, as close as he can. Your round belly keeps him from being able to fully hold you. You’re due to give birth to your son any day now, and while Suguru begged for you to rest while he got dressed for tonight, you’d insisted on taking part in the festivities.

“Absolutely not! I want you both to look your best so I can get pictures!” You’d argued earlier, stubborn as ever.

“Oh, so you don’t think I could get Himari ready on my own?” Suguru asked, feigning offense and you scoff.

“No. Move.” You pushed past him, earning a hearty laugh from your husband. He loved your little attitude. He loved it even more when you were pregnant. It was so cute watching you waddle into the bathroom, starting the shower and barking at Suguru to wash his hair so you could style it. While he finished his shower, you got Himari ready, only returning when she was busy playing with her toys while waiting.

“Were the curls necessary?” Suguru asks, glancing at his reflection. You stand on the tips of your toes, attempting to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, only for Suguru to quickly turn his head and steal a kiss from your lips instead. You can’t help but grin.

“Stop it. I think you look –”

A loud squeal cuts through the atmosphere and you both snap your heads towards the sounds where Himari stands in the doorway of the bathroom. “Oh my gosh!! Daddy, you look so cute!!!” Your daughter claps her tiny hands, bouncing up and down.

You watch with hardly concealed amusement as she closes the gap between you three and Suguru kneels to her level immediately, forgetting all about you. “Not as cute as you, Hima.” He winks, taking Himari’s hand in his and twirling her around to take in her powder pink princess dress. Suguru wears the same colored shirt, insisting he match his baby from head to toe.

It’s adorable, because as the years have passed, any similarities Himari once shared with you have slowly disappeared. She’s practically a carbon copy of your husband – his eye shape and color, his nose and lips. Even her personality is the same as his, which is clear in the way they’re now bickering back and forth.

“Please, Daddy, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseeeee–” your daughter whines, violet eyes wide as she juts her bottom lip out to pout.

“Please, what?” You question, glancing between the two. Suguru rolls his eyes, rising to his feet.

“She wants to put bows in my hair,” your husband mutters. You burst into a fit of giggles because you know exactly what’s going to happen next.

“What color, Hima?” Suguru asks her, moving past you to find the hair accessory drawer you keep on the bathroom shelves for your little girl.

Just what you knew would happen. What Himari wants, Himari gets. Especially when it comes to Suguru. He has said no to his daughter maybe three times in her entire six years of life. Your daughter folds her arms across her chest, closing her eyes and knitting her brows together in concentration (because this question is so very important) and God, she looks so much like her father it almost makes you emotional. Your hands find your belly, rubbing soothing circles over the soon to be new addition to the family as you observe your husband kneeling down again with the blue and purple bows that your daughter chose for him.

Himari tucks Suguru’s hair behind his ears, holding it in place by clipping a blue bow on one side and a purple bow on the other. Then Suguru does the same to hers – one blue and one purple bow to match his. He then lifts her, holding her tightly as Himari wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ready, Mommy!” They announce in unison.

- - - - - - - -

“Promise to take lots of pictures, Sugu,” you nag as your husband guides you slowly and carefully down the stairs. Himari waits impatiently at the bottom of the steps.

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

“Suguru, I’m serious!”

He laughs, amused by the way you’re frowning. He won’t lie, everything you do while pregnant is adorable to him. He knows he shouldn’t go out of his way to annoy you, but you’re so cute and round with his baby, he can’t help it! “Yes, I know, love. I’ll take a lot of pictures.”

“Okay, good. Pictures of both of you, too. So I can frame them.”

“Yesssss, okay.”

Suguru helps you off down the last step, hands finding your belly and rubbing gentle circles. Your son kicks at his palms and he can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. He can’t wait to hold his son the same way he held his daughter soon. Your sighing pulls Suguru from his daydreams, and he sees you staring up the staircase because he knows you likely won’t have the energy to try and get back up the stairs while he’s out. You’ll probably sleep on the sofa until he’s back and able to help you get up to bed safely. It’s become sort of a routine in these last few weeks.

Suguru leans down and places a kiss to the top of your head, a promise that he’ll take care of you when he gets home. He turns his attention to his eager daughter.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

She nods excitedly.

“Wait!” You exclaim. “Let me get a picture before you leave!”

“Babe, we’re going to be late…” Suguru groans, scooping Himari into his arms.

You roll your eyes, lifting your phone anyway. “Don’t care, smile!”

Himari beams, Suguru grins and again…twins. You snap a few photos, knowing it will only take Himari only a few seconds before her cute smile morphs into an expression that looks like she’s in pain.

“Okay!” Satisfied with your pictures, you hurry over to your husband, kissing your daughter’s cheek before Suguru gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I love you both so much. Have fun, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!” Hima agrees, nodding with determination.

“We will, baby. I love you. Get off your feet and rest, please,” Suguru chides. “Call me if you need me. If you can’t reach me, call Satoru or Shoko, okay?”

“I will,” you reassure him, because beneath his calm request, you can hear the apprehension in his voice. These days, he’s hesitant to leave you alone for too long in case you go into labor while he’s gone. But this night is important to Himari, and with a little (a lot) of pushing, you’d finally convinced him to go.

You wave goodbye to your husband and daughter as they head out of the front door for the night. And maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, but as you take a seat on the couch and pull up social media to share the photo of your husband and daughter, tears begin to fall. 

Himari has grown so much, and you are proud of the young girl she’s becoming. You wouldn’t be able to do this without the man who has been there with you through it all. You are so lucky to have Suguru – as a husband, as the father of your children. You can hardly believe there was ever a time where he doubted that he would excel at being a dad. These pictures are evidence enough that he was always going to be the best dad he could be. He would do anything for you, your daughter, for you, your son, your family.

With one hand you rub your belly, you sniffle quietly as you speak, “I can’t wait to take pictures like this with you, my sweet Yori…”

You hit ‘Send’ on your post, the photo of Suguru and Himari with matching outfits, matching hairbows, and matching smiles uploading with the caption: “Look at my cuties! Baby’s first Daddy-Daughter dance! ❤️”

[robraeinnevermore]

why do u ship robrae so much

short answer: THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER mainly childhood nostalgia my brain refuses to let go of.

long answer: I’m a slut for a brooding couple dynamic. Most of my ship fuel is from the 03 cartoon so I can’t say much about comics or any other media. Warning: I am gonna YAP.

In Nevermore Robin is the one to break through her attack on Dr. Light and then later tries to constantly respect her space when she asks to be left alone despite the others wanting to check on her.

Robin was the one to figure out the connection between Raven’s powers shorting out and the haunted house in Fear Itself because he knows her so well.

They confide in each other their hesitancy’s about Terra, both the first time she comes around and when she makes a come back later on.

It’s a small thing in Spellbound but after one of the missions she runs back to her room and he’s the first one to check on her— noticing specifically how she seemed to be in a rush and wanted to make sure she was okay.

In Haunted she easily could have just used her soul self to fly through the building through the walls and used her empathy to find Robin but instead she made a mental link to him. Whether the show meant it to be a physical bond or not, it stirred up memories and information Robin likely wouldn’t have been open about otherwise. He had the option to deny her access to his mind, but I think he needed some sort of reassurance someone else could really see Slade and that he wasn’t going crazy. If he was going to trust anyone physically in his head it was going to be Raven.

Then we get into the fucking birthmark/prophecy/ end arc and I go absolutely mental.

Robin knows she doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday for some reason and even on the insistence of the others he hesitantly goes along with it because he still wants to celebrate his friend. When they’re fighting Slade, Robin is almost crushed by a gear which is what prompts her to panic and accidentally stop time. Robin is the only one she frees from the time freeze and trusts him with the prophecy of her birth. They’re both trying to protect each other and it’s just the start of them doing anything for each other. I think it’s very heavily insinuated Slade assaults Raven, to an extent, and Robin is the one to catch her after and take her home. When they try to throw another party for her he makes a point to check in again and ask her if she’s really okay with this. Plus Robin’s comment of her being in his head and letting him inside hers will always stick with me. He’s trying to be vulnerable with her and hoping she’ll do the same. She almost wavers, but the fear of losing the people she’s close to holds her back from telling him everything.

Robin can tell there’s something going on with her in The Prophecy, especially when they’re in the library right before she leaves to go to Azarath. When she returns to kick Slades ass and she’s goading Slade about protecting the gem Robin puts it together that Raven is the gem.

Then The fucking End. Raven does her best to make the end of the world the best day she can for her friends and Robin tries to get the others to go easy on her when she makes a dogshit breakfast. When her body starts to react to The End and she falls to the ground crying Robin is the one to comfort her. Robin and Cy working on a room to specifically keep her safe from Trigon so nothing can get to her. Then despite all that Robin literally goes to hell for her. Teams up with Slade, the man he hates the most in the world, in order to find her. He guides her through hell to face her father and once again when Robin is knocked unconscious she finds the strength to kick some ass. The lightness in her tone when she hugs Robin and says “Somebody believed,” and he embraces her in return. Their conversation at the end of the saga about how Raven is what gives Robin hope— as if she doesn’t feel the same exact way wtf.

I think they push each other in ways the others necessarily don’t. They understand there’s a darkness to each of them and it’s something they can fully accept in each other. I think sometimes having someone in a darker place than you can bring out an unexpected light.

Robin knows when to check on Raven but he also knows when to give her space. In contrast, Raven knows when Robin needs space but also knows when to force her help on him. They’re both stubborn, snappy and hot headed; but they would do literally anything for each other and regardless of how heated their words may get they’re always honest with each other. The trust they have for each other is insurmountable and I think that adds to their chemistry.

I also just have so many other small niche things in my brain that are just constantly screaming at me like

[chxxrylovin]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

a bowl of white rice, miso soup, a plate of grilled salmon, and a desert depending on what’s available. that has always been the menu for as long as you can remember and you were fine with it. sticking to the same thing can save you the time stressing over what to cook but thanks to your growing stomach, you wanted a change of pace.

a memory long buried in your brain resurfaced when you felt your baby kick. whenever your mother felt you kick in her fifth month mark, your father would always make her his famous curry. nostalgia got the better of you so you got to digging into the pantry.

“caught you.” you got the curry box from high up in the shelf with a triumph smile. it seemed that your t-rex arms could reach great heights.

“love of mine.”

that chilling voice’s hot breath, brushes again your ear, muscular arms wrapping around your figure as you froze in his embrace.

just when you were enjoying life, he had to ruin it.

“why didn’t you use the stool i bought you? what if you got hurt? what if the shelf got loose and fell on you?”

he coos each worry with a glossy eyes as he cups your cheeks, kissing you deeply. you only closed your eyes and gently pull away from his affection.

“i…i didn’t hear you come in.”

“well, that’s because you were so engrossed in trying to make dinner, oh, my adorable wife, working her magic to make me food.”

he sighs lovingly as he took the curry box and set it in the counter. he opens a bottom cabinet and pulls out a pot.

“you were craving your fathers curry, right? you’ve done enough work for today, let me spoil my cute, pregnant wife.”

“wait, let me cook, you just got out of work and you said texted me that you were stressed with-”

“love of mine.” he says in that tone. though he was still smiling his eyes say another story all together. you swallowed a lump and you instead took his briefcase with your head slightly bowed low, avoiding his gaze.

“i-i’ll put this in your office.”

“thank you, wifey.” with hearts around him, you existed the kitchen. his smile was replaced with a deep frown. even after all this time you still haven’t warmed up to him.

not after he was so loving with you.

“oh, well.” relationships take time to develop so it was only a matter of time til you realize that you didn’t have much of a choice.

“did you go to the ob-gyn by yourself?” the hairs on your arm stood up, especially how he said it to casually. you gripped your utensils a little tighter. there was no use in lying. it was obvious this freak had planted most of your jewelry with tracking devices.

“i didn’t want you…to miss work for something…so trivial.” your voice dies down with each word you croaked out. he sets his utensils down and takes your cold and shivering hand in his big and warm one.

“it’s a husbands duty to be involved with their wives pregnancy. you know how my boss is always so, very understanding, it’ll be a paid leave.”

yea, that’s cause you threatened to kill him if he didn’t follow your demands, you thought bitterly in your head.

“ok.” shifting your hand, both your fingers intertwined, hopefully this would calm him down, and it worked.

“now let’s continue eating, wouldn’t want our little girl to be starving.”

how the fuck did he know it was a girl?

and as if he read your mind, he replied with.

“i went to the hospital when you left and the doctor gave me the ultrasound. i’m so happy that she’s a healthy girl, just like you, my love.”

“is…that so?”

“yup! on the way home, i was already thinking about baby names! should we get those girly baby clothes or those unisex ones? you know what? i’ll get them both!”

to think this was the same man that killed your talking-stage when you were in high school. he even showed you how many knife wounds he gave the poor boy. the only reason why you have yet to escape from him was because he threatened to kill someone and because you had your precious little girl in you.

there no point in escaping. you might as well just play house with him til you’re old and wrinkly. but you could agree with him in one thing.

you hopped your child won’t end up like her father.

(𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬!)

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! 𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥���𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠!!

@chxxrylovin

[xopinkroses]

Big brain Nero head cannon time!

I loved the "Can I spend my life with you?" fic and it got me thinking... Nero would be so soft around little kids! 🤧 Chaotic but soft! Like playful and fully engaged with whatever they are doing and 1000% down to play with dolls or putting on makeup or a full on nerf war or a foam sword fight or even just chasing the kid around, cackling like a gremlin while the kid screams and giggles! 😭

It would be so precious to watch and my heart can't handle how cute it is!!!

Playtime (Nero x Reader & Their Child)♥

(Dad Nero has my heart💖💖😭 Both baby and Reader are gender neutral for maximum self insertion haha~ I based this on my younger family members and how I mess around with them! (◠‿◠✿) Thank you for the request!! xo)

Summary; Nero playing with your toddler! Word Count; 575 Warnings; None! :)

MASTERLIST🌸

From the second your child was born, Nero’s ‘dad mode’ was unlocked and he hasn't looked back since. Dad jokes, tea parties and telling stories with dramatic voices to make an actor jealous– Nero gladly let go of any pride he had before in order to see his baby smile. That gummy smile and the tiny, cooing giggles when he would make faces and animatedly speak to the tiny baby in his arms… It just made everything worth it. 

“I’m gonna get youuu∼!” 

“No you won’t–!”

You watch on as the two most important people in your life cause absolute chaos in your living  room, couch cushions and toys strewn over the floor and the sound of delighted squealing and giggling warming your heart. Nero is pretending to chase after your toddler, dramatically parkouring over furniture, pretending to be some kind of monster… or maybe a dinosaur? You can’t really be sure, the game changes every few minutes and you’ve given up trying to keep up with the switch ups. He always makes sure to be just unable to reach your child, who squeals and yells for the monster to go away as they run a few feet away– but you know Nero is as eagle eyed as ever, subtly herding them away from potential dangers without pausing the game.

Nero takes playtime very seriously. Sometimes you have to ask yourself whether you have one baby or two– because father and child are on the exact same wavelength when it comes to playing. This is a game of life or death!

“I’m gonna steal all your hugs– give them to meeee∼!” Nero rushes towards your child, hands outstretched in a tickling motion. They scream and run behind the couch, peeking over it with sparkling eyes.

“Nuh-uh! None for youuuu–!” They declare, giggling and waiting for their daddy’s next move. “Monsters don’t get hugs!”

Nero gasps in offence, “What do you mean monsters don’t get hugs?”

“No hugs for monsters!” The child doubles down, grinning as Nero puts a hand to his chest and puts on an indignant expression.

“But what if I’m a nice monster?” Nero challenges, creeping closer to the couch.

“Nope, nuh-uh– no hugs for you!” They see Nero’s approach and starts mirroring his actions so that the two of them are circling the couch. 

“Is that so?” Nero grins mischievously.

They giggle, “Mm-hmm! My hugs, you can’t have them!” 

You already know what's coming before it even happens, having seen this scenario play out many times before. Nero nods sadly, looking thoughtful. “Hmm, okay… I guess I’ll just have to go without then….” 

And then he lunges– vaulting over the couch and capturing the toddler in his arms, lifting them into the air like a trophy. They squeal and kick their arms and legs out in an attempt to ‘free themself’, their cheeks flushed and white hair a mess. 

“Gotcha–!” He tosses them into the air before hugging them tightly to his chest. His arms are strong and protective around your child, and they lean into his embrace despite still screaming out in defeat at having been caught by the monster. “All your hugs are mine!”

That's when you decide to make your presence known, wrapping your arms around the two of them and nuzzling your cheek against the soft white hair of your baby’s head. A sneak attack to win you the game!

“-- And now both of your hugs are mine!”

~ 🖤

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair* You're back to requests‼️‼️ anything evanstan 🥺 I feel like it's been so long 👉🏻👈🏻 maybe even fluff?

I am!

It's been too long--I'm excited about it, but at the same time, I'm like, oh no, what if I've lost the ability? Let's be real, though, every idea I write ends up running away from me, so I'll be fine 💀💀

Maybe it's the fact that I spent a few hours washing my car after my final exam was done, maybe it's completely unrelated, who's to say, but earlier I was actually thinking about something softer and sweeter with Chris and Sebastian, so here you are!

I don't doubt Sebastian's ability to be a grown man and function for himself at all. However, I do have the sneaking suspicion that his life experience hasn't led to him being a stereotypical "handyman" with tasks around the house. Having moved around quite a bit and now living in NYC, he doesn't strike me as someone who would just pull out the tools and fix that leak in the faucet or kill a few hours on a Sunday sanding down and repainting his kitchen cabinets. It's completely possible that his Mom or his step-father taught him how to do those things, but even so, Sebastian doesn't strike me as the type of person who would enjoy those tasks.

However, you know who does strike me as that kind of person?

Chris.

All the way, absolutely, Chris gives off those casual repair, handyman, DIY vibes.

The first time Sebastian agrees to spend a few interrupted months with Chris in his house up in Boston, it's in the leaning months, spring to summer. The weather is warming, nature shaking off the frost and unfurling new soft, green leaves, gently budding into new beginnings. New York City is always changing and always exciting. Boston, the few glimpses he's had of it--which haven't been much - just a few long weekends that were mostly consumed by Chris, too busy to pay too much attention, alone and taking advantage of it, wrapped around each other--is much slower. Boston has more stillness, especially Chris' corner of the city. Sebastian understands why Chris couldn't leave--even if he himself needs times of rushing traffic and restless feet and always-illuminated neon, he gets it.

Contrary to all that stillness and peace, Sebastian is finding that the air between spring and summer is electric. Filled with change and anticipation. And Chris is, as well, moving and vibrating, ready to embrace the sunshine and humid, breathy wind.

In the hustle, Sebastian finds that the more time extends, the longer he's been at home with Chris, the more they can spend time apart. In regular routine, the first few days, they're attached at the hip and mostly, confessionally, naked. But, once they have their appetites wetted--not satisfied, never satisfied--and their bodies know the other isn't going to disappear back into the cloud of new work and new sets and new scripts and ever changing timezones apart... they can unfuze. A little bit.

Chris will read while Sebastian will scroll on his phone; Chris will scroll while Seb catches up on that TV show he's been meaning to start; Sebastian will figure out what they're going to eat tonight, consulting Dodger, who, of course, cannot talk back, while Chris hops in the shower real quick; Chris will stay up an extra hour to answer that email that's been gnawing at his brain all day aa Sebastian retires to bed. It's so good to be around each other for so long that they can relax.

Somewhere in the relaxation, not needing to be constantly in each other's presence, Chris starts leaving Sebastian to his own devices in the house while he goes outside. And here, here is where Sebastian discovers what a moving, exciting, living, breathing handyman Chris is. His own city. Bustling and busy, welcoming summer in, ushering spring [politely] out. Good manners for a good Boston boy. He knows what to expect. He's been here his whole life, and his heart beats in time with the rhythm of this sliver of the world.

He works around the house, making sure the sprinklers are good to go into the drier part of the season, coming inside for a kiss on the sun-warmed cheek, grass stains on his dirty jeans. He does a brief check over the pool and all the systems that go with it, more pipes and filters and everything. Sebastian rides shotgun because he has nothing better to do anyway, when Chris realizes he needs to go into town to get a few more bottles of algae clarifying chemicals to dump in the water before it's good to swim. From his place in the passenger seat, Sebastian keeps a hand on Chris' thigh, focusing on the way he feels under his palm. His blue jeans are thick, not torn, but soft from so much wear and work. Beneath the denim, Chris' muscles are ever-present, strong and thick, too, just like the clothes he slid into this morning, but it's especially prominent in Sebastian's mind now. That strength. Built for looks on the silver screen initially, gym-honed, but all the better for everyday, relaxed, domestic life. Chris doesn't bat an eye before throwing himself into labor. Muscles bulge and work and support him--he looks good no matter what he's doing. Digging through dirt, fucking with the sprinklers, hefting up bottles of cleaner, twisting off screws, and scrubbing down his car when they get back from the store. His forearms and biceps flex effortlessly as he articulates the sudsy sponge squeezed between his thick fingers--it looks strikingly small in his big, squared hands.

Chris washes his car with Dodger trailing him, right at his heel as if herding him. Later, Dodger spooks hilariously when the hose moves on its own--a snake!--Chris around the corner, tugging it to reach the back of his ride. Then, barking accusatorily yet wagging his fanned, fluffy tail, ready to play, when Chris sprays him with a jet of water. He growls in good fun when Chris stops, deciding that the only way to get his attention back is to try and bite and eat the stream of water coming from the hose, jumping in front of it while Chris belly-laughs, accusing him of being a goof.

Later, Chris finds a window screen with a rip in it, some stray cat--curious raccoon, or unfortunately placed tree branch in a windstorm--so he takes it out and replaces it with a new one.

Meanwhile, Sebastian shamelessly watches him work as he replaces that screen and all the other work he's done as the seasons change through the large, picture windows.

Embarrassingly enough, Sebastian actually ends up cleaning the inside of Chris' Boston home windows for him, just to make sure he has the best view possible of his boyfriend. No pesky smears to get in the way of the teasing slice of pale, freckled, hairy, and well-toned stomach. His tummy exposed between the band of his work jeans, cinched around his trim waist by that beloved, well-worn red belt, and the bottom hem of some old t-shirt, reaching up. (When he bends down, it's the same story, save for it being the small of his back and those indecent Venus Dimples being exposed to the warm light of day, framing his pretty flexing spine).

Sebastian can't take his eyes off of him.

Somehow, though, peering out at him makes Sebastian feel like a peeping Tom. A peeping Tom in reverse, perhaps? Staring out rather than in? Yet, he doesn't feel guilty enough to stop. Not by a long shot.

So, he is treated to an eyeful daily with how Chris keeps himself busy, compling odds and ends around the house. Not every day. He doesn't leave Sebastian lonely in his home by working outside and taking care of his home everyday, not that Seb could be lonely when he has a spectacular view to occupy him, but he does what he needs to do. It's responsible. It's domestic.

Sebastian hasn't really ever led this life, lounging within a suburban home, comfortable and air conditioned, while a man outside in torn-up, stained work clothes that stick to his sweaty skin takes care of business, keeping everything in tip-top shape, but he's rapidly acclimating to it. It's a bizarre feeling. It's almost laughable. He might laugh, just a little, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, when he's hit with an overwhelming wave of love, oddly, right as he rounds a corner at the front of Chris' house just in time to perfectly catch Chris framed through the window, kneeling in the driveway, adding air to his summer tires.

Sebastian is so in love.

He's in love with Chris when he's anxious and out-of-his-mind with stress in the middle of a press tour for a movie he isn't actually allowed to talk about, he's in love with Chris when he's lazy and pouting about being made to roll out of bed before 10:00 am, and he's in love with Chris when he's pleasantly busy, whistling to himself, his footsteps in and out of the house echoed by Dodg. He's so in love with him all the time. And that doesn't change, not for a moment, when Chris tweaks the wrench too far as he's attempting to remedy that troublesome kitchen sink drip and ends up sending water spraying like a fire hydrant into the ceiling. In fact, the look on his face right after? Sebastian might be more in love. If possible. That boyish, uh-oh, caught red-handed, expression is unfairly endearing. It makes his heart squeeze so tight that his chest starts to ache in a funny way.

God, Sebastian loves all of him.

I hope you enjoyed! Nice job on being the first person to hit me up with a request this year 😘

[faejilly]

Make you choose: Sleeping Beauty or Snow White

Sleeeeeeeepiiing Beeeeaaaaauuutyyyy 😍😍😍

and uh, then I didn't write anything for a million years, so I will now give you some (prequel) Esther Sinclair from Dimension 20/The Unsleeping City because that is the only thing in my brain now

Esther loses her mother to rage and feels the sorrow lift in her in response. Even as young as she is, she knows she can't let it in, can't let it out, can't let it be. But it's too much to bear, especially as young as she is, so she screams and pounds her fists and kicks her heels against the floor until she can't breathe and she passes out.

When she wakes she hurts and remembers her mother's rage and claims it instead of sorrow.

She kicks her bed, her shelves, her door; her father tries to hold her and she bites him and he flinches and she screams until she loses her voice and her breath and cannot cry.

Her father dresses her in black because a dead mother is easier to explain to the outside world than magic, and she despises her father for giving up so quickly, for believing that her mother would never, could never come back, and she keeps herself angry enough she won't cry.

She fights everyone and everything because it helps her turn pain into an attack, sends it out and out and out, clawing and boxing and kicking and learning a smile that shows her teeth and doesn't let the tide inside her rise. When people hit back, when friends leave, when possibilities die, even when she loses and loses and loses, she never cries.

Somehow she makes it through the next five years, eight, ten, her father a ghost behind her who doesn't dare feel things because then she'd feel them too, and he won't survive losing a daughter the same way he lost a wife. (They've already lost each other, and they both know it, but they pretend, because it's that or drowning, and drowning is salt, is tears, is the end. He drifts away when she's nineteen, disappears somewhere as far from the sea as he can, somewhere he can feel again without her. She never sees him again.)

She doesn't cry, she refuses, and for now that's enough.

But she also refuses to just wait until it's not, because everyone falls eventually, and she will not be like her mother and embrace hope to the point of ignorance, will not start a family and then leave them when she fails. She can feel the magic inside her, that deep deep sea of the pain that comes after rage fades, but her mother's rage will never fade, so Esther's doesn't either, not yet, and she doesn't fall in.

Esther dives instead into the deep end of the Unsleeping City, lets herself fall into other types of magic. Magic can be dormant, can be awakened, can be innate and felt, can be gifted and uplifted, can be observed and analyzed, can be learned.

So she learns.

Magic is versatile and dangerous and beautiful. She can't risk the power within her; she builds new power outside of it, around it, fencing and framing it in until it's as far from her thoughts as possible. Until her thoughts stay as far from her heart as she can make them. But she's still human, can't break that connection completely. She's still Cursed, and that Curse is in her blood and her heart and her desires, and however tightly she covers them up they're still there, and she knows it.

There isn't much else she knows, despite all her research and training. Every curse has a counter-curse, but sometimes the counter is just as bad, and even if this one isn't, the Furies are old, older than written history, and nothing she can find has any information on the Curse itself, no known way to take it apart and look at its pieces, only scant observations of the effects, the aftermath.

Most curses have very specific goals, and once those goals are met they're gone. One big push of magic and intention, too strong to easily break or dispel, but sometimes they can be mitigated, or dodged, or simply endured, and one can come out the other side of them changed but free.

Or dead.

That is the most common way to end a curse.

That won't work for her.

Not that Esther wants to die, but she'd be tempted if she knew that this would end, that she would be the last one.

This is not that sort of curse.

It endures, more than any other hex or curse or spell she can find and she doesn't know why.

She is forced to guess, to hypothesize, to wonder rather than to know. She wonders what some distant fore-mother did to incite such an endless vicious consequence, a Curse that follows their bloodline and cannot be banished or cured or even killed. Because it had to have been a woman, they're all women, only women, mother to daughter as far back as anyone can trace. Usually only one, but sometimes more, just often enough that if the eldest daughter dies before she falls, the Curse doesn't fail, doesn't end. It moves, and claims, and destroys someone else.

Their bloodline never dies, despite centuries of women who married less, had fewer children, who tried to hide and dodge and change and still endured, still had daughters, still survived even when they weren't really living. Esther wonders if the Curse is tied somehow to the Fates, some light touch of precognition, just enough to make sure their family keeps going, despite logic or desire, despite the odds suggesting that they should have been devoured by the Furies ages past.

If Esther dies, she's sure the Curse will find someone else, some distant relative far enough away to be ignorant, but not far enough to be safe. (There's no such thing as safe, not really. Safer, maybe, but even that is only for other people. Not her. Never her.)

She wonders how much worse a Fury could get, one who didn't even know what she was, had no idea how magic worked, had no chance at all of tempering the Fury's power as it rose, of retreating to the refuge (the cage) her family had made of Tompkins Park.

The Curse lives on, so she will too.

It would be such a relief to know why, even if it didn't mean she could stop it, maybe it would ache less, somehow. Just a little.

But instead it's always there, cold and bitter and deep, salt and tears and eternal sorrow. She wonders if that pool inside her feels the way it does because this Curse is somehow tied to the sea, eternally shifting tides that will never ever end.

She stops wondering about that, because she can feel her balance waver. She needs a little hope, no matter how pragmatic she has to be to get through most days. She learns to avoid some thoughts, but she never outright lies to herself if she can help it. She will never let her guard down, never pretend she is safe when she knows she isn't. She's still angry at her mother for that, for falling when Esther was still so young, when she needed a mother, when she needed to be able to cry.

She has to be angry. She grips it tight, because it's the only shield she has; anger works, but only for so long. Eventually she'll burn out, and she'll drown, and she'll take everyone and everything with her.

She wonders what her mother held onto when she couldn't risk anger, wonders if perhaps her mother cried, was as different from the woman Esther has made herself as it is possible to be. She wonders if her mother's rage feels like a storm, a tsunami, if it's salt and depth just like her hidden sorrow, if her grandmother's grief is the quiet but endless rain that still floods, and drowns, and carries everything, eventually, down to the sea.

She wonders, but she doesn't believe. That seems too kind.

She would bet that the Furies can't even have that, can't share the taste of the Curse as it overwhelms them. She remembers faint lost stories of her grandmother, whispers of soft warmth turned remote and grey, remembers the bright explosion of magic and pain when her mother fell. She thinks that her mother burns, fire and sparks in her bones and her blood, believes that her grandmother is the stretch of a tundra far from any town, empty and solitary and rock hard beneath each step. She can feel it, somehow, in the depths of the tides within her, that when she falls they'll still only give each other pain, opposite and opposing sides of the same terrible magic.

She wonders if the Curse manifests in different elements, if her Great-Grandmother had been an air Fury, cold and fierce as arctic wind, or as heavy and cloying as the tropics. Imagines, for a moment, the soft warmth of a spring breeze instead. She wonders if there's a clue to the counter-curse there, balancing element and temperament with four instead of three.

She realizes she's half recreated the theory of humors, and wonders how she got herself caught up in such nonsense. There's no known way to make another Fury, and even if there were she wouldn't risk it somehow making the Curse more powerful. There has never been a fourth Fury. There are three of them, vicious and deadly and inhuman. The have always only been three Furies, though sometimes it takes a generation or two for the next woman to fall.

Always.

The more she learns, the harder it is to hold onto that one small drop of hope. She's not the first to try and break this Curse, it's sheer hubris to think she'll somehow be the last.

Hubris is probably what got her into this, judging by most mythology. Might as well use it to try and get out, right? She won't give up, she'll never give up, but maybe there's a way around it instead of through, an evasion rather than a breaking.

She learns.

She experiments.

She talks to people, learns to smile without baring her fangs so that they're willing to talk back.

She doesn't make friends, not really, but she learns to be friendly enough. Alejandro and Kingston, Misty and Mike and Willy, Rovias and Orlando and Frank, Ana and Amelia and occasionally even Jackson, though the Monastery's always been a little sideways to the practice of magic, and she's certainly not ready to accept that her life is what it is.

She's careful with her questions, so only Alejandro has managed to put any of the pieces together. (No one else knows her well enough to bother, which is entirely on purpose, but doesn't make her feel better. Not that she needs to feel better. She just can't risk feeling worse.) None of them give her any leads, however, and Esther knows she's running out of time.

If she can't break the Curse, she'll just have to get in its way by cursing herself with something else before it takes hold.

She does not explain this plan to Alejandro, because she knows exactly what he'd say, and also that then he'd keep much too close an eye on her, and that might make her think about how much he means to her, and that is something that has to be avoided.

Esther can't pull off anything as nasty as the thing she's already dealing with, so a new curse seems a reasonable enough risk to her, and her opinion is, in the end, the only thing she's got. She just has to find the right school, the right structure to use.

Necromancy was out; death moved the Curse.

Both healing and destructive Evocation spells had been attempted by every sort of spellcaster she'd heard of (and a few she still hadn't translated into anything she recognized) whenever the Furies showed up throughout history; she hasn't been able to come up with anything new to try there.

Transmutation would carry a bloodline curse with the transformation, so she can't turn herself into a swan or something. Animals still have emotions, and while a Swan Fury is an odd enough mental image to make her snort out a laugh when she first thinks of it, it's also terrifying, so that's not worth the risk. (The cure for most transformation curses involve someone who loves you doing something to help, quests, vows of silence and nettle shirts, or even just a kiss, and she has gone out of her way to try and prevent herself from loving anyone, from letting anyone else love her, and she's learned too much not to know that, and she values her knowledge too much not to think about it, and that way lies almost as much sorrow as the loss she's trying to avoid might cause.)

Divination doesn't really do curses, except of blinding someone to obvious consequences, and that's the opposite of helpful here. If she cobbles one together it might prevent the Curse from continuing whatever weird shit it does that means her family doesn't die out, but it would take a few generations to know if it had worked or not, and well. She'd be gone and unable to do the follow-up by then, and she doesn't know where more of her family might be, so she can't ask someone else to keep an eye on them after she's gone. (And that still doesn't help save her or anyone around her right now.)

Conjuration would just be adding something else to the Curse, and since she can't figure out what was in it to begin with, there's no telling what that would do. She can't use abjuration to shield herself from it without shielding herself from her own blood, which would again be fatal, and if she banishes herself it would, just like in transmutation, come with her. She could throw herself into a pocket realm, so at least she wouldn't hurt anyone, but then she'd just be stuck as a Fury for a subjective eternity until she died and the Curse could do its thing again to someone else. Without even that much time passing here, probably, considering how small pocket realms were in comparison to everywhere and everywhen else.

Illusion or Enchantment magic wouldn't change the Curse itself, just the way she could see it or interact with it, so that wouldn't help. It might even make it easier to trigger, rather than limiting it to sorrow.

She'd considered a sleep spell, of course, as the one exception. She had even gone so far as to doodle a vine covered tower in the margins of one of her notebooks, thorns poking around her sentences, but what if she had bad dreams and woke up a Fury, with no idea of where or when she was, or how she'd drowned in sorrow?

Even so, she couldn't seem to come up with anything better.

She'd have to make an anchor, something small enough that she could keep it on her at all times, sturdy enough that it wouldn't easily break down after she triggered it. Something to keep the spell steady so she'd be deep enough to avoid dreaming, to sleep through the shifting of magic or noise around her, but not so deep she'd die, freeing the Curse to find its next victim.

Her test run on a curse anchor was a spindle, because she did allow herself a sense of humor, but that would be a bit hard to explain as a keepsake in her pocket.

Her next run was a set of rings that would trigger if she put them both on the the same finger. She wore enough magical jewelry that even if someone went looking, they wouldn't be able to tell exactly what they were for.

And she could keep them on all the time, easy to access if she started to lose control before she found a cure.

Just in case.

[thekimspoblog]

Preview

The second she was in his arms, the bond between father and daughter was magnetic. He inhaled the smell of her head deeply, practically waltzing around the small room with her. Jimmy kept chuckling to himself under his breath, until fat tears started to stream down his cheeks.

“Oh come on. That’s not very manly,” Kim teased.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, “If someone had asked me five years ago, I would have said my life was over. Even just two years ago. I never would have dreamed… Thank you, Kim. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had”. Speaking directly to the scrunched face of their precious, perfect angel he declared, “I’ll never be a coward again. When it comes to you, I’ll never take the easy way out. Promise”

It was probably good that at least one parent welcomed Iris with blubbering, overwhelmed love. “Can I have her back yet?” Kim sighed, reluctant to break up such a magical moment. But she’d barely gotten the chance to get a good look at their child yet. Knowing herself, Kim had read up on postpartum depression beforehand. She knew there wasn’t anything wrong with her, just because she didn’t gush with affection the second her baby was born. But postpartum wasn’t really what this feeling was either. She wasn’t depressed; if anything, she felt the same high as when she had gotten away with a crime. She could revel in the way her brain was currently stewing in oxytocin and other endorphins, but that didn’t prevent her from seeing things clearly.

Her love for this child was like fire and ice, at the same time too cold and much too intense. It wasn’t some ultimate act of grace giving birth to her. The loving thing to do would have been to never drag her kicking and screaming onto this mortal coil in the first place. To keep her sequestered safely in the realm of the hypothetical, where she could never commit any sins or suffer any hardships. But it was more important to set her free, she’d decided. There had been this thing inside Kim’s soul for at least half her life; it felt like a sharp rock. And as she had aged, it had just gotten bigger. She guessed she’d thought that once she passed it along to someone else, it would leave her. But it was still there; she could only suspect Iris had inherited it. She hoped she did. She’d need it… to cut through the miles of bullshit and bureaucracy which lay ahead.

Motherhood for her meant embracing paradox: She’d have to protect her, but still let her grasp for the proverbial brass ring. She’d have to plan for the future, and take pride in her, but not burden her with expectations. She’d have to instill in her daughter a strong moral compass, while teaching her when, why and how to break the rules. She’d have to be honest with harsh truths, but not scare her. She’d have to be selfless, but not a martyr. She and Jimmy would have to take turns, when it came to who was going to be the hardass and who got to be “the fun one”. Give her everything, but don't spoil her. It was enough to make a person's head spin. But at this point in her life, she was confident she was up to the challenge. She felt at home in paradox.

@richeeduvie @mcwexlerscigarette @2entangledworms @chainsawsangel @garfballed

[idabbleincrazy]

Never a Wish Better Than This (2/?)

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: M (E overall)

Pairing: Clex

Word Count: 2985

Warnings: s4 fix-it, feelings, angst, birthday fic

Summary: Clark turns 18, Lex takes one last chance at making things right between them.

A/N: more of the same. Next chapter should have smut🤞

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Lex's POV:

"Sorry, Lex, didn't catch that?"

God, it's adorable when he blushes.

"Sugar high kicking in already, Clark?" I question him, smirking to show it's only a friendly tease. The blush deepens, and fuck, am I glad I wore the looser slacks tonight. "I was just wishing you a happy birthday."

"Oh! Right. Thanks."

He still hasn't gotten up from his seat, the absence of the gesture only so obviously noticeable in places like the Kent home, where manners are valued more than the size of someone's bank account. Clark fidgets as I draw out the eye contact and, as I turn my gaze away, I catch the way his shoulders slump in relief out of the corner of my eye. Another one of those moments where I long to read too deeply into it. My cock twitches at the possibility that he hasn't stood up to greet me because he's dealing with a bodily betrayal of his own.

"Eighteen's a pretty important milestone, Clark, glad to see you finally decided to have a party."

There's that blush again, but he's saved by the distraction of Martha's perfectly timed arrival back into the kitchen, her arm slinging around me in a comfortable half-hug.

"We weren't going to let him pass this one by. I'm glad you could make it, Lex; we were starting to worry you'd miss the cake."

I let myself relax into her embrace. Why is it that of the few people whose touch doesn't fill me with unease, two-thirds of the Kent family are at the top of that very short list?

"Speaking of which…" And there's the last third of the whole, the man whose approval I'd probably prefer far more than my own father's, striding towards us from the counter he'd been huddled over since I stepped in. Jonathan's carrying a large, homemade cake in both hands, stepping carefully so as not to disrupt the flames of the glowing candles. "Happy birthday to you…"

I turn my gaze back to Clark as we all join in on the singing, the 100-watt smile stretching his lips as he looks around him proving contagious as I feel my own mouth stretch into an open grin. What is my wealth compared to this? I envy this beautiful young man, surrounded by family and friends who care about him, not what he can do for them, or how they can use him to further themselves. I envy him, and am glad for him.

He purses his lips and blows out the candles, one deep breath extinguishing all eighteen flames in one go, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before flitting away to scan over the rest of those gathered around.

"Come on, you guys, let's cut this baby!"

I chuckle at Pete's honest enthusiasm and must admit I agree. Martha's baking is the best in Smallville, and there's no doubt she'd go all out for Clark.

Clark elbows Pete into sitting back down, and begins cutting the cake and plating it out for everyone as I take the seat Martha offers me directly across from him. As he hands me a plate, his fingers graze the back of my hand, and it's all I can do not to let my face react. So many glancing touches over the years, and still, my body has not become desensitized to the feel of those impossibly soft fingertips. And just how are they not calloused and rough after nearly two decades of farm-living?

Clark gives me a quick wink, which confuses me until I look down at my plate. My piece is nearly as big as his, and quantifiably larger than those he has handed out to everyone else. My heart tugs at the gesture, though my brain is less apt to catch the obvious significance. Chloe gives him a shrewd look as she accepts her plate, her keen reporter's eyes flicking between her plate and mine. Of all his friends, she's the one most likely to have noticed, probably from the start, the difference in my behavior towards Clark in comparison to anyone else. Maybe I should have gone to her for insight on the way he behaves around me? Then, maybe I wouldn't have to dive into this insane plan with my heart pounding in fear of shattering into so many pieces on the pavement.

No one else reacts to the disproportionate size of their slices, and Chloe shrugs off the slight with a tiny shake of her head. Clark remains oblivious.

"There's still plenty of chicken and potato salad left, Lex, if you want. I could fix you a plate." Martha's offer interrupts my musings, and I turn my head to her. She's always prompting me to eat more, like a good mother should. "Sometimes I wonder if they ever even remember to feed you up at the Manor."

"I'm fine, Mrs. Kent, really. I ate a couple hours ago, I promise."

Martha gives a nod and a smile, placated for the moment. Her instinctive mothering warms me and I push back a bittersweet wave of nostalgia, returning the smile.

"Alright, but I'm sending you home with leftovers."

Clark's soft chuckle sounds in my ears, and when I glance back over at him, I can't help but return his smirk. I think he knows how much I secretly enjoy his mother's subtle care.

The cake is delicious, as expected, and there are sounds of appreciation from around the table, Lois' less-than-quiet moan of satisfaction causing Clark's nose to wrinkle in an amused grimace. The room is in high spirits, even Jonathan has been unexpectedly hospitable towards me, offering me a beer. It's domestic, and a brand I admit I always skip over, but I accept with a small smile of thanks. School my face against the grimace fighting to twist my lips as the bitter tang of the first sip catches me by surprise, as always.

I watch them, this table of Clark's nearest and dearest; Lois, if Clark's constant griping is anything to go by, is merely the former of the two. Watch them laugh and chatter, Pete and Chloe catching up on lost time, their heads nearly touching periodically as Chloe's voice lowers to whisper something or other that makes Pete's eyes widen fractionally. Lana chuckling softly at Lois' complaints of putting up with Clark's teenage-boy habits. Martha's warm voice next to me, checking in on everyone in-between cozy conversation with Jonathan, sitting at the end of the table. As a whole, it's a tableau that makes me ache inside, this Rockwellian perfection that was always missing from my life. Hopefully, this won't be the last time I'm included in the experience. Hopefully, this won't be my last time feeling real happiness.

Clark's POV:

I've blown out the candles, unwrapped the gifts, and hugged Lana, Chloe, and Pete good-night, and now there's just the five of us, me, my parents, Lois…and Lex. I'm pleasantly surprised by his decision to stay and help clean up; dad is just plain surprised. He even goes so far as to shoo my mom and dad into the living room, insisting the three of us will take care of the dishes.

"Wow, Lex, didn't think you knew how to wash a dish" Lois quips from the fridge where she's putting away stacks of Tupperware. I grit my teeth and shoot Lex an apologetic look. "Want a pair of Mrs. K's rubber gloves so your delicate hands don't get all pruney?"

"Lois!"

"No, it's alright, Clark. She's right, Luthor's never wash dishes. We dry."

I can't help but roll my eyes at the smirk he flashes me as he grabs the dish towel from the rack above the sink and sets up shop beside me at the counter. I can feel his body heat, he's that close, his bare arm brushing against mine every so often as we fall into a rhythm, me washing a piece of tableware and handing it over to him to dry and stack. It takes most of my control not to break anything as I fight back my resurging hard-on.

He hasn't given me his gift yet. I know it's there in his left pocket, but I forced myself not to look past the elegant silvery wrapping paper. He seems to be waiting to give it to me in private, though I can't imagine what he could possibly want to give me that he thinks would need shielding from the rest of the group. Maybe it's just something on the more extravagant side that he figures my dad would insist I couldn't accept. But that's the upside to birthday presents, it would be rude to refuse them.

Lois makes a noisy exit upstairs as we finish up the last of the silverware, leaving us alone. Lex takes the fork from my hand, his fingers brushing over mine, and we share a smile at the sound of her grumbling.

"Bet she's gotten you over your desire for an older sibling."

"Oh, yeah. She's the sister I never wanted. But, she's not all that bad. Just very talkative."

"Well, we're not all the silent, broody type like you, Clark."

I roll my eyes at his teasing, glad we've fallen back into the easy banter that seems to have been missing from our friendship these past few months. There's a real grin on his face when I turn around from putting away the plates. I missed that grin. The one that actually reaches his eyes.

"So…no gift? I would have thought today would've been full of deliveries of unreturnable trucks and flashy gadgets."

"You jest, but if I thought your dad wouldn't have shut the door in my face, I would have shown up hauling a 30" high-def television." There's an uneasy flicker that ripples over his face as he speaks, but it's gone before I can make anything of it. "I do have something for you though. I was just waiting for the right time to give it to you."

"Well, we're all done here, wanna come up to the loft with me and hang out for a bit?"

"That'd be great, Clark."

I hand Lex his promised plate of leftovers and quickly head out to the living room to thank my parents and say good-night. At least there's one perk to giving Lois my bedroom; once I head over to the barn for the night, I'm usually left alone.

"C'mon, Lex. Mom and dad are heading up to bed in a bit. Oh, and I already thanked them for you."

Lex ducks his head at that, and I see the faintest trace of a blush on his cheeks. I think he secretly likes someone knowing him so well. I just wish I could let him know me, the real me. He almost did, but Lionel erased it. Sometimes, Lex looks at me, and I almost think some part of those days before Belle Reve resurfaced; but then he blinks and the moment is gone.

As I walk with Lex to the barn, I find that old peaceful blanket of silence surrounding us again, and it makes my heart clench, yearning for this moment to never end. I don't want to keep wondering if Lex is up to no good again; if he's still trying to dig up knowledge that isn't his to know. I love his unending sense of curiosity, but it puts so much in danger when he can't rein it in. Him, me, my family, my friends; it's all set upon a precarious edge, and everything could crumble to ruin with one misstep. Lionel can't be trusted with Kryptonian knowledge, and he has so many eyes on Lex. It was easier when the older Luthor was in prison, but that didn't last, and he's more determined than ever to keep us all under his watchful eye.

I'm dragged away from my thoughts by the sound of Lex's voice in my ear, his hand squeezing my arm.

"Huh?"

"You okay, Clark?"

I shake off the wistful feelings and give him a small smile.

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

"I think thoughts that deep are against the rules on your birthday."

How does he always know? I scoff and lead him up the stairs to the loft, clearing my bedding away from the couch for him to sit.

"Thirsty? I keep a little fridge up here so I don't have to go all the way back to the house." I know, I'm rambling, but I just don't know what else to do now that we're up here, alone, and he still hasn't handed over the little box in his pocket that he keeps toying with.

"Water, if you got it. Thanks."

Lex sits as I grab a couple bottles of water from the mini-fridge in the corner.

"Sorry it's not your fancy kind." And, great, now I'm thinking about Lex's lips wrapped around the mouth of one of those blue Ty-Nant bottles. Why are my hormones the one thing about me that are as normal as a human teenager? "I, uh, had to sneak this into the shopping cart. Dad's strictly a tap-water guy."

"I'm sure the water out here is clean enough for it. Wouldn't be very healthy in Metropolis."

I sit down on the other end of the couch, the easy closeness I felt while we were washing up gone, replaced by an awkwardness that isn't the same as the ones we've fallen into this last year, but just as painful. At least it's a distraction from the ever-returning erection that had begun at the image of Lex drinking water. Christ, Kryptonian or not, being a teenager sucks.

"Clark, I'll give you your gift, but you have to promise not to return it. Even if you never use it."

He's holding it in his hand now, a small cube-shaped package, the moonlight from the window glinting off its shiny covering.

"Okay, I promise." The words fall so easily, just as they always do. Promises are easy to make, even if they're not always so easily kept.

He hands me the box, but stops my hand as I go to unwrap it. The awkwardness isn't so much gone, as shifted, the warm night air charged and heavy. Lex keeps hold of my hand, and I look down, uncertain what might be showing on my face.

"Don't open it yet. Wait until I'm gone, please." He shifts closer on the couch, his knee touching mine, and I look up, needing to see his face. "I'm glad you invited me here tonight. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Lex-"

"Please, just let me say this." He waits for me to nod my head before continuing. "Clark, this past year…I've missed this, the way we used to be. I miss us. I'm not good at keeping friends, but it's never really bothered me before. This time it does. I know I've screwed up so much between us since Belle Reve, and nearly lost everything important to me in trying to get back the information on my father and Morgan Edge. And, between that and the search for the Stones, I kept putting you and your family in danger, and…I'm sorry, Clark. If you can forgive that, if you're willing for us to make our way back to where we were, I think this can help us get there. If you think so too, try to come by later? I'll be up late."

Before his speech can really sink in, before I can respond, Lex leans in and I feel the press of his lips against my forehead.

"Good night, Clark, and happy birthday."

I stare down at the gift as he leaves, listening as his car door opens and shuts, as the engine revs and gravel crunches under the wheels of his Jaguar, his heartbeat fast as a hummingbird's as he speeds his way back to the mansion. When I hear him finally pass through those iron gates, I finally blink.

I speed through unwrapping the box, but hesitate on opening it, confusion and so much hope coursing through me. It's a little black jewelry box, plain and simple on the outside. But lined with lead, as I discover when I try to scan through it. I suppress the urge to return to the house, have mom or dad open it, just in case…but I want so badly to trust him, to believe his speech wasn't just some trick in his search for answers. And, aren't relationships, friendship or otherwise, supposed to have moments like this? Where you just have to take a leap of faith?

It's a key. A plain, silver key. He bought me another truck? I pick it up, and beneath it, is a small piece of cardstock. In the light of the moon, I read the flowing, easy script of Lex's handwriting.

If you want to know what your gift is, you know which door this opens.

And I do. Immediately, I know exactly which floor of the Luthor mansion, in which wing, the door resides. Third floor, east wing. Again, I falter for a second, thinking of ways he could be leading me into a trap. The last time I saw the room, he had emptied it of everything except for one large square of crushed metal that once was a Porsche.

I take a quick look through the house, making sure even Lois has gone to bed, and slip the key into my pocket. Before speeding off, I spare half a second to the consideration of leaving a note, just in case, but quickly dismiss it. What good is a leap of faith if you set up a failsafe? Tonight is not a night for half-measures. It's an all or nothing kind of moment, and I'm tired of pretending I don't want everything.

****

@leatafandom

[storiesofsvu]

Her Everything Ch 11

Warnings: Language. Angst. Just..everything really. A/N: We here fam, some of this is taken straight from the one shot, but I embellished a lot more. Also it’s fucking 8 pages long…sorry not sorry

If there was one thing that you absolutely hated it was desk duty, and if there was one thing you hated more than that, it was being sent home by your Captain and on insistence by your fiancé when in your opinion, you could at least handle paperwork. Truthfully, when you did get home you realized how terrible you still felt, how exhausted your body was, and that maybe this was a good idea. You’d had a very small medical issue, an allergic reaction that slightly kicked your ass but you were fine, you’d already taken two weeks off, and a week of desk duty for it.

Now…you were just absolutely bored out of your skull. You’d flipped through the wedding planning already, marking a few pages with post its for Rafael to look over when he had the time, made lunch with enough leftovers for the rest of the week, and watched about three hours of mindless t.v. You were every so thankful when your favourite office gossip texted you to update you on what you were missing, a kidnap case morphing into one of Mom vs. Dad on whether they were okay to withdrawal life support on their basically already brain dead baby. You grimaced at the sound of it, thinking maybe you were better off at home.

When seven p.m. rolled around and Rafael still had yet to reply to your text you figured he was in it for the long run, the least you could do was bring him some dinner, even if he would complain about you being out of the house. Grabbing a container of leftovers you wrapped your coat tighter around you and made your way into the chilly city streets. You passed Jack McCoy as you came off the elevator, nodding a polite hello to him before making it to Barba’s office, not surprised to see Carmen already gone. The brief knock at the door made Rafael turn from the widow, scotch clutched in his hand.

“Carino? What are you doing here? You should be at home.”

“Raf..I’m fine.” You stepped into the office with a roll of your eyes, kissing his cheek gently as you placed the Tupperware on his desk, “Besides, we both know you were going to forget to eat. ‘Manda told me about the case, it’s a tough one.”

“It’s a dumpster fire.” He gruffed, taking a swig of scotch.

“I saw McCoy on my way in, he pressuring you to prosecute?” Rafael simply took another sip of his drink, not meeting your eye. Your hand grasped his free wrist, turning his attention to you, “Hey..what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours?” His eyes met yours and he practically melted at the concern splayed on your face, the warmth of support and love echoing from your eyes to his.”

“My father…”He muttered. Right. He had told you about that pretty early on, “I was selfish to keep him alive. He wasn’t scared of death he was scared of dying, and…Baby Drew..he’s dying everyday.”

“Mi amour.” You stroked his cheek softly, “Don’t drown yourself in guilt from seven years ago, it’s not going to help anyone. Especially you. And certainly not Baby Drew.” Finally he turned his attention fully onto you, a weakened smile on his face.

“I know.” He wrapped an arm around you waist, kissing your forehead as he held you in his embrace, ever so incredibly thankful to have you in his life, not entirely sure what he would do without you. “Go home.” He pecked your lips quickly.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He gestured to the wild mess of papers on his desk, “I’ve got to figure out at least some of this case and that could take hours.”

“Okay.” You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, popping up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “Don’t forget to eat. I love you always.” You were slightly surprised when he tugged you back to him, lips meeting the crown of your head for an extended kiss, hand cupping the back of your hair.

“I’ll love you forever.” He murmured against your skin, giving your lips one last kiss before you gave him a soft smile, leaving the office.

*

You were practically passed out on the couch, Netflix marathon still going on in front of you, it was nearly 1:30 in the morning and you were starting to wonder if you should put out a call for a missing persons. You’d just picked up your phone to text Olivia when you finally heard keys in the door.

“Rafa…there you are…” Your voice trailed off at the sight of your fiancée finally returning to the apartment, “Thought you’d be home hours ago.” His eyes avoided yours as he shrugged off his coat, dropping it to the hook in the entryway while his bag heavily met the floor. Your brows furrowed at the way he barely acknowledged you, quickly moving down they hallway to your room, the sound of scuffling around, a zipper or two being pulled piqued your interest.

You gave a tired sigh, pausing the t.v in front of you, knowing that Rafael had been having a hard time with this case, padding you way to the bedroom. You leant yourself against the doorframe, an instant of shock taking over your face as you saw a suitcase on the bed.

“Rafael.” You began to move into the room, “What are you doing?” He continued to toss things into the suitcase, moving through the room, collecting more than a handful of clothes, your heart rate picking up as he grabbed his phone charger and tablet along with a few other important pieces. He crossed into the bathroom, tossing a handful of toiletries into the bag before your hand strongly grasped his wrist, finally bringing his eyes to yours. “Rafael..what the fuck are you doing?” Your voice wavered slightly, tugging him to you as he tried to pull away.

“I fucked up…” He muttered, his gaze not meeting yours.

“I don’t understand why that means you need to pack a bag? Mi amour, what is going on? You were fine seven hours ago.” Rafael stuttered, trying to pull away from you again, barely daring to meet your eye.

“Baby Drew….” He muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What happened?” After the talk in his office earlier, his very late night out, the smell of scotch on his breath you felt your heart rate pick up, worrying that the stress had made him make a very stupid decision in a bar with someone else. Rafael tossed a few other items into his suitcase before zipping it up, finally looking up at you, the tears ever so clear in his eyes.

“He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t smell, he couldn’t even breath without the machines.”

“Why is everything you’re saying in past tense?” Your stomach flopped, but this time not with the thought of Rafael cheating on you, but something that would land him in one hell of a lot more hot water.

“Mrs Householder couldn’t do it herself. I told her to leave…and I pulled the metaphorical plug.” He felt his heart drop into his stomach at the lightning flash look of disdain that shot across your face before you were able to compose yourself, the look he knew was coming. How could you love someone, how could you see a future, with someone like him, someone who thought letting a baby die was the right move. He’d only been thinking for himself and the baby in the moment, forgetting that he had someone to answer to at home, not just in the courts. “It’s too late for me to ask for forgiveness.” Your heart clenched at the way he moved passed you towards the door without a second glance,

“You could go to prison Rafa!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” He rounded on you, the anger seeping through his voice, “And what?! You and Mami will come out to visit me once a week for the rest of my life?! I highly doubt that. I’ll be tried for murder, you need to disassociate yourself from me. It’s over.”

“Rafa, no!” Tears broke into your eyes, barely able to meet the reddened ones of his. “You can’t mean it…we can work through this. I know you’re going though a lot but this doesn’t need to end…. I love you always.” You choked over the last word, begging him to return the sentiment as he usually would.

“Carino, please.” He begged, “I can’t drag you through this mess. I made it, I need to deal with the consequences…alone. You deserve so much better than me…”

“Raf..you can’t be serious…” You felt the tears burning in the corners of your eyes, daring to fall, your vision nearly blurry.  “I don’t care what happened, I love you…” Rafael took a shaky sigh, his eyes unable to meet yours,

“Y/N. I am serious. I can’t do this anymore.” He dared to meet your reddened eyes for a briefest of  seconds.

“What? No! Rafael! You might not get convicted! Call Rita! She’ll be able to get you out of this, at least be able to get a plea.” Rafael was ashamed to admit it, but he was even more ashamed of what he’d done, the last thing he wanted to do was call one of his oldest friends to get him out of something like this.

“If I don’t end up in jail I’m leaving the city.” He sighed, “I need the ring back.”

“But-“

“Please.” He dared to meet your eyes one last time, hating that he did, feeling the punch to the gut at the absolute anguish in them. He’d never hated himself more than he did in that moment, knowing he was completely breaking your heart.

“After five fucking years I would’ve thought you’d had more decency.” You spat, choking over a sob as you ripped the diamond off your finger, tossing it to the kitchen island before turning back down the hallway, Rafael didn’t deserve to see your tears. As soon as you heard the apartment door close you broke into a fit of tears, collapsing onto the bed, your head in your hands.

Sure, the two of you had had one hell of a year between work and the cases and problems it threw at you, but that seemed ages ago, the past year sandwiched between the tough times and tonight. It was so out of left field you wouldn’t have been able to see it coming with a fucking telescope. Sure, he’d been upset at the office earlier, but this…this was something completely unexpected.

You just couldn’t understand why Rafael wouldn’t let you help him through this. Sure, he was stubborn as hell, especially when it came to his independence, but to instantly give in and run from his problems afterwards was so unlike him. You thought he’d have more fight in him, apparently this case had affected him much more than he had let on, even to you, in the privacy of your home.

By the time you’d managed to finish crying you felt completely deserted, an emptiness in your chest you weren’t sure would ever go away. You’d been alone for so long, unsupported and unloved, you’d learnt how to deal with it, how to take care of yourself, what to do when you were feeling down. Then came Rafael, throwing your life upside down in the best possible way he could. You loved always, and he always said he would love you forever. This wasn’t the way someone who would love you forever would treat you, right?

You gingerly pushed yourself up from the bed, moving to splash some cold water on your face before pouring a hefty glass of scotch. Grabbing your phone you made a quick call to Olivia, asking for a couple more days off, you assured her it was fine to use vacation days considering you’d already been out ‘sick’ for weeks, the paid vacation would help. Figuring you wanted the extra time with Rafael, Olivia quickly agreed, reassuring you to call if you needed anything.

It was only when you didn’t show to his arraignment that she clued in that there was more than what met the eye going on. Not able to get anything out of Rafael she showed up at your apartment, her concern rising at the near empty bottle of wine on the counter and how disheveled you looked.

“You wanna talk about it?” She softly asked as she moved into the apartment, “I thought I’d see you at arraignment.” You gave a weary sigh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the island. The days of crying and tears were over, you were well into the days of resentment and anger, the tears only coming at night as you cried yourself to sleep in an empty and cold bed. To say your emotions were running high was an understatement.

“It’s hard to support someone who doesn’t want your support.”

“Well he can get a little pig headed at times. I’m sure he’d want you at the trial.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, he’ll make bail, be home in a few hours, you guys can talk it out then.” You practically cut her off, knowing that beating around the bush was completely useless.

“Liv, he left me.” Shock took over her face, thoughts scrambling in her brain in an attempt to understand. The two of you always seemed so hopelessly in love, the way you spoke about each other made Olivia a little jealous, wishing she could find a powerful love like that. Not to mention the wedding was only three months away, she could see the garment bag housing your dress thrown over the back of a chair in the living room.

“What?”

“The night he pulled the plug. Came home, packed a bag, told me it was over…asked for the ring back and everything.” Turning slightly you topped up your wine glass, taking a large swig.

“I’m so sorry…” Her hand gave your arm a reassuring squeeze, “Maybe he’s just worried about being convicted?”

“He said if he gets off he’s leaving the city. I’ve tried calling but he never answers, not even to texts, he’s already shut me completely out.”  A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you glanced up at your Captain, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over him. Rafael was the love of my life…”

“Oh sweetheart..” Olivia stepped towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug, “It’ll take time, and it’s not gonna be easy, but I know you’ll come out on the other side stronger.” You gave a watery muffled thanks against her coat, tears dripping onto the fabric, ever grateful for your Captain.

Just as Olivia had promised, it certainly wasn’t easy. You avoided the trial, at least relieved to hear the verdict came back not guilty, still holding your breath over the entire situation. Though the verdict didn’t give him a change of heart. McCoy approached you in the hall, urging you to try and do something about Rafael handing in his resignation. You simply snorted in response, saying you certainly didn’t have any pull there anymore before stepping into the elevator. The next shift you worked was an overnight, bored as hell in the squad room until after the sun came up, finally getting back to your apartment at 9:00 a.m. You felt your breath catch in your thought at the sight, although all of the big things, furniture and the like were all there you felt another pit in your stomach at the missing nick nacks in the living room. The second bedroom he’d fashioned into a home office was completely emptied out, his side of the closet completely clear, leaving another giant hole in your heart. Just for the sake of it, you tried his phone again, not surprised when it rang six times before cutting off.

He really was gone.

*

The next few weeks at SVU were rough for everyone, there was constant clashing with the new A.D.A, especially from Olivia since he’d been the one to prosecute Barba’s case. Not to mention simply adjusting to someone else handling all of their cases, you weren’t surprised when most of the team gave the cold shoulder to Stone. Not that you cared, he was just doing his job, and you certainly didn’t care that he’d taken on what used to be Rafael’s, the man broke you, so what if someone took his job…especially considering he resigned.

Olivia was defeated, annoyed and frustrated with Stone, with the arguments, the bickering, the not being able to see eye to eye at all. She felt like if she spent another minute in the same room with him she’d end up decking him, so she escaped to the only place he wouldn’t be able to follow her, the women’s washroom. As she leant over the sink, trying to regain her composure, knowing that she had to keep her attitude in line considering she was Captain, she realized the other washroom occupant was vomiting, a small cough echoing from the stall before the flush. When it was you that unlocked the door, she met your gaze through the mirror,

“Please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to send you home with the flu, we’re already so short staffed.” Carisi was undercover, Fin was out sick, things weren’t exactly all rosy around the precinct.

“It’s not the flu..” You grumbled, moving to the sink to rinse your mouth before washing your hands.

“You hit the wine too hard because of Barba?” You crossed your arms over your chest, the side of your hip leaning against the sink.

“It certainly has something to do with Rafael..” Liv’s brows furrowed, taking in the glassy look of your eyes, realizing it wasn’t just from the puking. You took a shaky breath before meeting her gaze, she was gonna find out eventually, may as well be now. “I’m pregnant…”

“Oh..God..” She could barely comprehend what you must be going through at the moment.

“That..medical issue that had me out last month? My doctor swapped my IUD for a copper one, I had a bad reaction to it and they were waiting a month before putting the new one in to make sure everything was okay. It’s standard procedure to take a pregnancy test before getting one put in…we must’ve…forgotten. I..feel so fucking stupid.”

“Hey..hey..don’t..” Olivia’s hand squeezed at your shoulder, her voice soft with worry and support.

“I’m so scared Liv…I don’t know if I can do this alone…”’ You quickly swiped at the tear that manage to escape, streaming down your cheek. “You and Amanda, you’re so fucking brave, strong. I don’t have much fight left in me after…everything.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She pulled you into a hug, “You are the farthest thing from alone, you hear me? Everyone here has your back, we’re a family, you know that. Hell, Carisi will be more than excited about another baby in the squad.” You gave a watery laugh at that, “If…that’s what you want. This is your choice, remember?”

“I know..” You gave her a weak smile, “But I’ve always wanted kids, even if it is in a situation like this. I mean..what’re the chances I’ll trust someone else after all this? I just…wish I had a way to tell him..he deserves to know at the very least, right?”

“He..didn’t leave a forwarding address or anything?” Olivia was shocked at that, sure, he hadn’t left her with anything, but she thought at least the super would have something for any delayed mail.

“No.” You shook your head, “I’ve tried everything. His phone’s different, email’s all redirected to spam, any social media he had taken down, he’s cut himself off from the world completely.”

“What about his Mom?” Your head shot up to Liv’s,

“God I didn’t even think of that. Fuck, I’m stupid, he must’ve left her with something!”

“First..stop calling yourself stupid. You’re dealing with a hell of a lot right now, okay.” You gave her a weak nod, “Second…take the rest of the day off, go talk to Lucia, see if she can contact him.”

“Okay.” Olivia gave you a soft hug before she let you leave the bathroom.

“And you calll if you need anything. I can redirect any pregnancy or birth questions to Rollins. We’ve got your back, okay?”

“Thanks Liv.”

*

Knowing Lucia would still be at the school until the evening, you headed home first, giving your exhausted body exactly what it needed, sleep. You managed to get some food down before jumping on the train to the Bronx, your heart nearly hammering in your chest. You hadn’t spoken to Lucia since before everything blew up, and you weren’t sure what Rafael had told her, if anything, you only prayed you weren’t to blame in her opinion.

“Y/N! Thank God, I’ve been waiting for one of you to call for weeks.”

“Sorry Lucia…” You practically mumbled as she ushered you into her apartment, guiding you to the couch while she busied herself in the kitchen to grab some snacks and tea.

“I’m so glad you’re here! How’s Rafi? I can’t believe he’s enough of an idiot to risk going to prison, you tell him I need him to call me, okay? His own mother shouldn’t have to find out from the news that her son’s being tried in court. What?” She stopped suddenly, looking across the breakfast bar as she took in the sorrow on your face.

“Lucia…he’s gone..he left two days after the verdict came back.”

It appeared that Rafael Barba had decided to cut himself from everyone he knew and the entire world as he knew it. There was no plan to come back. He was done, completely moved on already.

“What?” Her attention on the food was abandoned, quickly moving to your side on the couch.

“I’ve been trying to contact him for weeks, everything’s shut off or changed. You were my last hope, that he left you with some kind of information, I really need to talk to him.” As she grasped at your hands her fingers felt the absence of the ring, her breath catching in her throat.

“Did that son of a bitch leave you too?” You couldn’t help the watery laugh at how quickly Lucia was to turn to your side, giving her a small nod as the tears began to slowly fall down your face. God how you misssed having your Mother around, she always knew what to do, she would’ve been a world of help right now. At least…so far…you had Lucia. “He’s an idiot for that, I hope you know.” She wrapped an arm around you, letting you softly cry into her shoulder, “You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him, and if he’s let you go, that’s the greatest mistake he’s ever going to make in his entire life. I’m so sorry…he didn’t give me anything. You know if he did I’d give it to you in an instant.” Your head nodded agaisnt her shoulder.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping away at a few tears, “I’m just..scared..” You lifted your head, feeling another wave of nausea surging through you for an entirely different reason, “I don’t have any family, I’m alone in this. You and Raf..you were all I had..”

“Sweetheart just because my son was a coward and abandoned you doesn’t mean I’ll do the same, you have my support whenever you need it.”

“Thank you..”You wrung your hands together, suddenly finding them more interesting than anything else in the room, “Uhm..do you remember the day you asked if I was going to give you grand babies…” You dared to meet her eye.

“Yes. It was-“ Her eyes widened in realization, “Oh…oh..are you?”

“Yeah…”

“Rafael doesn’t know?”

“I did everything I could. I didn’t find out until after he was gone, believe me…if I could track him down he would know.”

“Don’t hate yourself for this. And you don’t need to be scared. I’ll be there for you every step of the way, if my grandbaby’s coming into the world I’m going to be a part of its life.” She abruptly stopped, taking a breath, “If that’s what you want. I may not support..termination…but this is a sticky situation, and I understand if that’s the choice you want to take.” Tears in your eyes you shook your head,

“I really don’t. I want to have this baby, I’m just not sure I can do it without Rafael.”

“Screw him. You don’t need him okay?” She wiped a tear off your cheek, “You’ve got me, you’ve got the support of your friends. From my knowledge you’re not the first single mom in that squad, you’re a strong, independent, powerful woman Y/N. Motherhood may be daunting, but I know you’re going to be incredible at it.”

“Thank you.” Lucia wrapped you in a hug, soothing you, reminding you that this would blow over, that everything would be okay.

You felt a small weight lift off you, you knew you had one hell of a road ahead of you, but at least you knew you’d have support, that Lucia was more than willing to be an incredible Abuelita to your child. True to her word, she made sure she was at as many doctor’s appointments as possible, texting you homemade remedies for the morning sickness, the back pain and the like, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be. When you found out the sex, you took her to lunch, asking if she was okay with you using the name Catalina, in honour of her mother. It was with happy tears in her eyes that she whole heartedly agreed, more than happy to have her legacy live on in another generation.

As tough as you knew things would be over the next couple of years, you were ever thankful for the support from the literal only ‘family’ you had and your squad. Rollins gave you as much insight as she could to the newborn stage, Carisi naturally babbled on about his various sisters and their kids, half of which you found yourself rolling your eyes at. You were ever thankful at the amount of hand me downs you were able to get from them, old toys, clothes, bassinets and the like. Before you knew it, the second bedroom in your apartment was exactly that, set up for the arrival of your baby girl

[real-jane]

drifting (9)

[cw!bucky barnes x female!reader]

summary: bucky saves the life of a woman when she’s buried in an avalanche. faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is… or what he’s done.

how long can he hide?

warnings: none.

word count: 3.8k+

a/n: we're rounding second base here, headed for third--I may extend the chapter count a little. Trying not to give you 10k word chapters. ;) enjoy!

series masterlist

***

The moment the quinjet touches down in D.C., she’s out of arm’s reach. Her eyes are still red, and his shirt is damp from her tears, but the jet is swarmed by so many agents that Bucky has no time to swipe his thumbs over her cheeks and tell her, again, that he’s sorry to have wasted precious hours, or ask what else she remembers about her father while the memories are still fresh. Those hours are over, and she’s letting Rumlow shove into her shoulder as agents who weren’t privy to Steve’s original plea for peace lock handcuffs around her wrist, forcing her arms behind her back. He’s helpless to do a thing; Bucky submits to cuffs of his own, and only then does Steve pat him on the shoulder. It feels patronizing.

They’re ushered down a long stretch of concrete; identical aircraft line the glorified warehouse, but the whole place is silent to let the parade of agents pass, escorting SHIELD’s number one most wanted and her pet. Bucky can hardly see her through the kevlar-clad shoulders of her escorts.

A woman in black athletic-wear waits at what appear to be doors leading deeper into the compound; her hair is burnished copper, and braided away from her face, but some strands have been disrupted as if she was interrupted mid-workout. She’s stoic. A spark of recognition hits him in a neighboring synapse to the place his flashbacks have been striking. He’s met her before. Y/n stops walking when she sees the woman.

“What the fuck, Rogers?” The strange woman’s voice is the first sound to break the choking silence. She strides over to Y/n and pushes Rumlow out of the way, yanking a remote device out of the attending agent, and releasing the handcuffs with a clatter on the ground. She kicks them away. She raises her hands to pull Y/n into an embrace. Y/n stiffens.

“What about him?” Y/n says through gritted teeth. She looks over her shoulder at Bucky. The other woman shakes her head.

“It’s not my call–”

“Please, Natasha.”

Ah. The little flicker of recognition in his head forms more resolutely. So this is Natasha Romanoff.

Y/n points at Bucky. “Take his fucking cuffs off.”

“Пчёлка–”

“Don’t,” Y/n gasps at the affectionate nickname. “It would’ve been my ass busting Steve’s jaw if I’d gotten to the door first!”

“We’re not shirking protocol just because he’s docile for you,” Rumlow chuckles. “Though I have to applaud you: who knew all it took to take down the Winter Soldier was getting his dick wet–”

If it weren’t for the Black Widow’s arms winding around her waist, Y/n would’ve snapped the man’s neck. Her fingers still manage to find his face and she leaves a welted scratch mark in his cheek. She tries to shove Natasha, but her fellow Widow knows just the right hold to keep her from wriggling away, and starting something which will surely end in one of the agents finding their gun, again. Y/n takes heaving breaths. She lets out a cry of frustration that rips at her throat.

Bucky can’t take it anymore; the desperation in her eyes, the fury… he doesn't want it to consume her. She’s hardly in a headspace to fight off an entire hangar of SHIELD agents, and the woman trying to restrain her has tears streaming down her cheeks, even as she keeps her stoic resolve. And watching Y/n panic… it’s fucking with him. It’s tugging at pieces of his brain that want to do worse than just hold her and tell her that things will be alright. They won’t be.

And the idea that his willingness to go along with this dog and pony show has anything to do with whether or not he got his dick wet, as the piece of shit so elegantly put it… it makes Bucky feel the smallest amount of pity for any person in that room who supposes that what earned his allegiance to her is from something as fleeting as sex. Anybody who thinks that way doesn't understand the intimacy of looking into the eyes of another person, and knowing that they don’t think you’re a monster. No amount of one night escapades in Bucky’s younger years could equal the intimacy of having her come to his aid, even though he hurt her feelings, and wash blood out of his hair. If giving in to that feeling is docility, then sure–Bucky’s docile for her. He’s alive thanks to her. The sky is blue thanks to her, the world has worth. Because of her.

If he does nothing but rot in a cell for the rest of his life, at least he has known intimacy that none of them can touch.

“Y/n,” Bucky manages. She stops struggling enough to find his eyes through the crowd of heads between them. He shakes his head just once. “I’m okay,” he says evenly.

She presses her eyes shut, sagging back into Natasha’s embrace. Natasha presses her lips against Y/n’s temple and her lips move, but no words are said loud enough for anyone else to hear. After a moment of digesting whatever the woman said, Y/n nods faintly. She turns her face into the other woman’s neck.

“Come on,” Steve mutters beside him. Bucky nods his ascent. “Rumlow!”

The whinging man grips his face and wheels on Captain America with wild eyes.

“You’re relieved.”

Rumlow smiles in a way where the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. He backs out of the crowd of agents, all of whom seem to be operating like a herd of confused sheep, for which Brock Rumlow is not the shepherd. The man stumbles out of a side door. The herd closes ranks; it becomes clear that they’ve been given orders to keep a barrier between their two captives.

“Fury is requesting you both sit through some questioning and evaluation,” Steve explains quietly to Bucky. “I’m sorry about the cuffs. It’s just for optics–”

“It’s smart,” Bucky grumbles. “After?”

“You go to the med bay.”

“And then?”

Steve finally meets his eyes; he’s been looking everywhere but directly into Bucky’s corneas, avoiding owning up to whatever this strange confrontation is by virtue of not addressing him directly. But his expression lacks the reassurance that his words seem to be trying to convey. Bruised eyes and crusty blood from the split in his lip doesn’t help. Bucky swallows hard.

“I am hopeful that Fury will see reason,” Steve says, finally, “because your evaluations will speak to the fact that you’re sound of mind.” He sighs. “I didn’t want it to go like this, Buck.”

“But it did.” Bucky’s gaze skips over Steve’s shoulder to where Y/n stands. She has fully turned into Natasha’s embrace, and she’s clinging to her sister in arms for dear life. “If–if this doesn’t go well…”

“I’m not gonna leave it alone. You have my word on that.”

“If it doesn’t,” Bucky pushes, “please take care of her.”

“She’s special.” Steve says it in a way that doesn’t feel like pity. From the mouth of someone else, it would’ve sounded like a taunt, but… it reminds Bucky of the days when Steve was just earnest, and not the figurehead of the world’s foremost defense organization. Bucky nods.

“You said you knew what happened to us, before.”

“We’ll get there. I don’t want the information to taint your questioning so they hold it against you, but I’ll show you the whole file.” Steve gestures with his head towards the doors. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Bucky allows Steve to lead him past the line of agents. When they reach the double doors–

“Wait!”

He freezes at the desperation in her tone. Y/n’s boots are silent on the concrete as she darts between the seeking hands of agents and puts herself between him and the doors. Steve steps back, and turns away to give them privacy. She shrugs out of Bucky’s coat and tosses it around his shoulders; her face is stricken, but she makes sure the seams are straight and the collar folded. Then, she wraps her fingers in the plackets of the coat which fits him but smells like her, and tugs.

“I have such a bad feeling,” she whimpers. Her eyes are glassy as she admits the whole of the panic she’s experiencing.

“Okay,” he whispers. “It’s alright, doll.”

“I don’t think it is. But… no matter who they think you are in there, you’re James Buchanan Barnes–you’re Jamie, you love books and you can cook rice, and you like Irish Spring soap for some weird reason–” she hiccoughs a laugh, and he can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks even as she yanks on his heartstrings. “And I don’t care what happened to us before. I mean–I do, but it doesn’t have any bearing on this. Okay? If it starts feeling like nobody is listening to you, or they don’t see you how I do, just remember that I’m somewhere in this building raising hell until they give you back to me. Yeah?”

Bucky sighs. “Please don’t give them a reason to punish you.”

“I make no promises.” She cups his cheek. “If one hair on your head is harmed…”

“Ditto,” he whispers.

“What would you do?”

Bucky presses his forehead to hers. “Let’s hope you don’t have to find out.”

***

She clutches Nat’s hand so tight in the lift that the woman hums, rubbing her arm. She’s still so angry that it feels like she could spontaneously burst into flames, but the comfort is welcome. Watching Bucky get led away broke something in her. She can’t even cry anymore. She’s too mad.

Nat ignored Steve when he asked her a question, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder instead, and she dismissed the hovering agents who hadn’t followed Steve and Bucky through the doors. It was very clear that the agents were there solely for Bucky. Yes, she had caused a considerable amount of grief for them, but she wasn’t the one who had perpetrated a hit on Nick Fury and Steve Rogers (even if he had failed on both counts).

It’s a cruel reminder that Bucky’s demons are still tangible, even if he is a victim. But watching the heel of his boot pull away from the leather reminded her that he ran out of resources in Colorado. Being in Washington didn’t feel like a better prospect than being out in the world together with no money and no contacts, and shitty boots which he’d walk the soles out of in short order. That would still have been freedom.

But this compound isn’t the sort of place where anyone might find comfort, and the thought of Bucky being taken into the recesses of the base for ‘evaluation’ without anyone there to vouch for him makes her want to burn the place down. Surely he is entitled to counsel of some sort. Even a measly public defender would be some kind of advocate. Her confidence that Steve Rogers can be that advocate died when his deception came out.

Natasha encourages her out of the hangar. Wherever they’re headed is lost on Y/n because she can’t stop seeing his face behind her eyelids with every blink–smiling at her to encourage her, actually smiling like that was a thing he did with regularity, there where anybody could see him do it. The bravery in that smile, too. He may have put it on for her, but it was very convincing. How could anybody think that he was still under HYDRA’s thrall when he looked at her like that?

That feeling that things aren’t going well–or the way Steve had planned–intensifies as the elevator doors open. Not on the fifth floor of building H, where she participated in several interrogations herself, but in the basement. She glances at Nat. The woman beside her just tugs her along gently.

“Where–”

“Shh.” Nat holds up a finger, and pushes her into a small room off the dimly-lit hallway. She closes the door quickly behind them, and locks it. The room is dingy, and clearly not often used. Natasha strides to the far end of the space, and opens a second door.

Y/n gasps.

Even though the room is dark, there is a window at the far end of the new room… through which she can see a brightly-lit interrogation room. And Bucky. She presses her fingers to the glass.

“He can’t see you,” Nat says.

He is cuffed to the table with measly little chains, and he is hunched over with his hands covering his mouth. He taps on his lips. Bucky is worried.

Y/n watches all his little ticks that she knows by heart; flicking his hair off his forehead, clenching his jaw… drumming his hands on his knees. He slips his free hand–the prosthetic–into his coat pocket, now that he’s been allowed to put his arms into the sleeves. He frowns for a moment, and slowly draws his hand out again. Bucky smiles.

It’s the lid from the cheap bottle of whiskey he had pilfered to help with her pain. He had finished it after putting her to sleep last night, and she had worried the little cap all morning under the table so he didn’t see how torn up she was.

“Y/n,” Nat murmurs.

“He’s so nervous.”

“I want you to be realistic about what could happen here.” Nat leans against the window beside her. “I don’t know if Fury’s going to just let him go. I don’t see it happening without an act of God. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. But, um…” Y/n bites her lip to keep back the newest swell of tears. “I also know that he’s good. He’s so good, Nat.”

“So you said.”

“What?” Y/n narrows her eyes at her friend.

Nat nods. “At the worst point of your therapy, when I couldn’t get you to even recognize me, you wanted to tell me all about him. You thought I was your nurse. ‘He’s not who they say he is,’ you kept saying. ‘He wouldn’t hurt me. He’s good.’ It broke my heart, Bee.”

“And Steve?”

Nat looks away. “Nevermind him,” she breathes.

“Shit. What?”

“No, I–we very much disagree about how this should have gone. Steve doesn’t understand covert ops. If it were up to me, you would’ve been allowed to disappear. Maybe forever. I wish you would’ve lost your phone in the slide.” She grits her teeth.

It’s so far from what she expects Natasha to say. She worked very hard to get Y/n back after she was found in Bucharest, going so far as to write a personal appeal to Fury to accept a fellow Black Widow into SHIELD’s protection, and going on leave from her own duties to be by her side as she received treatments. The thought that after all that, Nat was willing to let her disappear into the world with a man who was a known HYDRA tool (with no clue that Bucky wasn’t under mind control anymore), on the basis of trusting her words brings tears to her eyes.

Y/n blinks away the heady emotion. “You would’ve let me go.”

“Yeah.” Nat shrugs, but she is tearful herself.

“Why?”

Natasha sets her jaw, and looks her dead in the eye. “Because I love you. And I wanted you to have him back, with as much power over yourself as possible.” She scoffs. “How could any person in this place understand what you’ve been through, Пчёлка? Except him? I should have told you what I knew, and I’m so sorry I didn’t give you a chance to choose for yourself.”

“Бабочка,” Y/n soothes. She brushes Natasha’s elbow. “You should have told me. We agree on that.”

“I know.”

“But you love Steve. And you thought you were helping us both.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not all about me.” Nat smiles sadly. Y/n bumps their shoulders together, and then lays her head against Nat’s.

“Thank you,” Y/n breathes. What she means is thank you for giving him back to me. Nat wraps her arm around her shoulders. “I forgive you for not telling me. I just hope we can find a way to keep him from the Raft.”

“Steve will do his best to prevent that. To be honest, he’d probably give up the shield if it would help Bucky.”

“I’m sorry about Steve.”

Nat sighs. “Me too. Sometimes his nobility makes him blind. He thinks he has to follow proper protocols to help his friend. But it means my feelings don’t matter. Or yours. He knows he fucked up. And Bucky could pay for more than the Winter Soldier’s crimes because of Steve’s mistakes. So. We’ll see what he does to make it up to all of us. And as for me… this is what little I can do for you, for now.” Nat gestures to the one-way mirror before them, and the man waiting alone in the room beyond.

Her phone rings at full volume, drawing Bucky’s curious eyes to the mirror. As Nat steps away to take the call, Y/n taps on the glass. Three quick pecks with her nails. Bucky smiles, even though his gaze is off-set from where she actually stands. He nods once. Y/n hopes he feels what she’s driving at. I’m with you, she wills him to remember.

“Yes, sir,” Nat says quickly, moving away from the mirror with one hand pressed to her free ear. “She got sick from the flight. We’ll be there shortly. No–Nick, I said we’re on our way, and we are. Okay.” She hangs up. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Alright.” She backs away, taking in as much of Bucky’s image as she can. His longish hair, and the way he tucks it behind his ears (where it always fails to stay for long). His scruff, which has grown out a little since he saved her, flecked with little hints of silver at his chin. His shoulders hunched to make himself smaller. And those eyes–clear, blue, and kind.

“Nat, do you have an anchor point? It’s–it’s something he and I talked about. What HYDRA let us have, to keep a bit of our humanity.” Y/n nods to the man.

“Якорь,” Nat says with acknowledgement on the weight of the word. “My mother.”

“Mmm. My father was mine.”

“They liked to twist the knife from the earliest memories.”

“Yeah.” She looks over her shoulder at the woman who is her sister in all ways except by blood. “I have a new one, now.”

“Bee, he has been your anchor for a while. Whether you knew it or not.” Nat squeezes her shoulder. “But I think you’re his, too.”

She allows Natasha to pull her away, but only because Bucky closes his fist around the whiskey cap and presses it to his lips. Anchoring himself to her.

***

Chapter 10

Thank you for reading! Tag list is open, lmk if you'd like to be added. :)

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[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[thegremlincrowsnest]

My Little Prince

All reader inserts are poc, chubby and ftm! All reader inserts will use he/him and they/them pronouns unlessed specified! This was a commission for @calslaundry

CW: Sex under the influence, consumption of weed, slight scumbag dabi, dabi is called Touya

“Awe, does the little prince wanna do somethin’ naughty?~” Touya said with a smirk. You could only hide your face in your oversized sweater, the heat of your embarrassment rising to the surface.

He only chuckled, poking your nose softly. “Cute little mouse,” he whispered softly. You looked up curiously, but before you could ask for clarification, he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He guides you back to his apartment, surprisingly flourished for someone who tries so hard. Lavish as it was raunchy. The lingering smell of sex and weed clung to the air in a thick fog. The hairs on your arms stood on end from the initial contact. Kicking off your shoes, you walked immediately into the living room. Looking outside you could see some storm clouds begin to congregate. You sat down on the plush leather sofa, sinking into its cushions with a sigh.

“Good thing we got home in time before the rain started,” you remarked. Touya only grunted a response as he quickly gathered the tools for his nightly ceremony. With a big smile, he walked over with a variety of items. A jar filled with the illicit green substance, a pipe, a bong, and some lighters.

“Usually I’d roll you a blunt but Keigo owes me more papers,” he remarks as he sits down next to you.

For the next few minutes, he explains the difference between the bong and the pipe, how they’re used, and how each will feel. You’ve never seen him this focused before. “There’re also edibles I want you to try first. I made them myself and they’re a slow introduction into this. I don’t wanna freak you out darlin,’” he adds before standing up once again, grabbing a plastic container filled with cookies. You can’t help but take in this slightly domestic side of him. He hums to himself as he picks out a few cookies for the both of you. You look around to take it in, the guitar in the corner, the faint smell of frankincense and myrrh, the few more expensive items from his father. It brought a small smile to your face, as rough around the edges he was, he seemed comfortable.

“Scoping out what to snatch little one?” A gruff voice said near your ear.

You jumped slightly, “Fuckin’ asshole!” You squealed. He let out a hearty laugh, reclaiming his space next to you once more. You couldn’t help but stare at his stupid, sexy face and his stupid, sexy piercings. He looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself, but you'd never tell him that. Taking a bite of the brownie, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It doesn’t taste any different!” you squealed. Touya couldn’t help but chuckle at your adorable reaction, reaching over carefully to cup your cheek. Gently brushing his thumb against the crumbs lingering on your face.

He looks into your eyes, smiling softly before turning away, pulling up Netflix on his phone to cast onto the TV. “Tell me, mouse, what would you like to lose yourself in?”

(break)

A few hours later you’re snuggled close to his side, ribbons of smoke dance around you. Frankincense and myrrh mix in with the earthy scent of weed. Your eyelids droop as you stare at the tv, it’s some cartoon. You giggle softly at every joke, every instance of slapstick to the brightly colored characters. Touya was in a similar state, constantly stroking your hair gently as he took puff after puff of his blunt. Tapping your cheek gently for you to look at him, he leans down.

“Little mouse~ How’re you feelin’? 1-10,” the deep voice said, you hazily look up at him, it's dark out and the only light radiates from the tv. His eyes were still that enchanting blue, even in darkness. You couldn’t help but melt into them, you saw his lips move but the sound was muffled and far away. You cooed softly with confused eyes, being met with a soft chuckle and a hand cradling your chin. “One…” A thumb brushes your lips, “..to ten my mouse,” he says softly.

Your eyes focus on his face and your smile. “Eight...sir”

He felt his cock twitch at the response, licking his lips as he sits up. “Wanna try something new?” he asks as he begins rolling up another blunt. You sit up and turn yourself around, facing him and watching intently. Skilled fingers tuck and hold the soft green herb as he rolls tightly, tongue peeking out to wet the edge he looks you in the eye. Grazing his tongue against the paper slowly, purposely, before looking away and closing the joint.

He sits up and turns to you, gripping a lighter in one hand. “Now yer gonna try and begin smokin’ this blunt,” he began, leaning in ever so slightly to point out where you light and where you inhale. Your focus switches from his fingers to his eyes to the sweet honey baritone of his voice. Getting lost in the myriad of thoughts that spill into your haze-smoke-filled mind. He notices you slipping into this space and smirks, cupping your chin gently. He tugs your lip gently with his thumb, whispering, “Alright little mouse, open those pretty lips for me and pucker up. You’re gonna inhale this smoke and hold it in those little lungs of yours,” he instructed.

You nod, empty fuzzy head completely transfixed on the melody that was his voice. He leans back to light the joint, inhaling deeply before motioning you over. You climb on top of him, hands pressed against his firm chest for balance. He holds your chin again, helping to steady you as you pucker your lips, exhaling the smoke into your mouth. Your lips are inches away from each other, barely touching. You can smell his cologne much stronger now, the cinnamon spices mixing with the incense and weed, it made your head spin.

As soon as you inhale the smoke he pushes your lips together. “Hold it for me, baby,” he sighs as you feel the smoke fill your lungs. Moving his hand to cup the back of your head he pulls you close to his chest. Placing your hand on his chest he exhales deeply. “Just like that”

You nod and exhale the same way, giggling as you feel the effects melt your brain. He rubs your side comfortingly, staring at your blissed-out face, feeling his cock twitch again at how pliable you’re becoming. “Easy there, ya might spur somethin’ ya can’t finish.” His grasp becomes a warning, gently pressing his hardening erection against your stomach.

You only nodded and giggled, curling into his lap, “I trust you Touya, you’ll help me through it.”

Soft moans could be heard, tv long forgotten, as a sonorous voice directs you. “Ya gotta practice holding it in sweet cheeks. Holding it in while daddy plays with your little pussy is great practice.” Sweet promises fill your ears as you feel his long, dexterous fingers grope and prod your pussy lips. “Such a good boy for daddy,” he kisses into your hair, cooing how good you’re pulling from each hit of the blunt. Even teaching you how to flow smoke into his mouth. He calls it shotgunning? You think, it gets hard to think straight the more he fingers you. The sound of your sopping wet pussy filled your ears. You would hide your face in embarrassment if your body didn’t feel so deliciously heavy, leaning your entire weight on the taller man. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest, feeling your plush skin pressed up against his. He was in heaven.

“Let’s get you out of these.”

Your brain processes the words slowly before you feel your sweatshirt and shirt lifted over your head. He does the same and you shiver slightly at the cool touch of his skin against yours. His cock pressed against the small of your back as he begins to grope your tits. “Your so soft baby mouse, so small and fuckable.”

You keen in his embrace, drawing another hit as you feel him lift you gently. His cock, hot and throbbing, slots itself perfectly in between your lips. He groans into your shoulder, feeling your pussy throb against him. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me baby.”

He cups your breast, rubbing your nipples until they harden under his ministrations. Moaning against your neck as he grinds his cock between your folds. “Such a good boy for me, already wet and ready for my cock aren’t ya?” You can only nod and whimper happily in your daze. He reaches down, letting his fingers graze against your stomach and mound before grazing your clit. Rubbing it softly between calloused fingers he smiles. You don’t push him off, only moan softly as you try to hazily focus on his touch. He doesn’t relent, moving to tease your nipple as he tweaks your clit more. “Does the little prince want more?”

You can only respond in soft whimpers as you nod your head. “Use your big boy words.''

Another whimper slips past soft lips before you attempt to speak, “P-please Touya...Touch me more, feels so good.” You don’t notice the Cheshire grin that paints his face but he abides, sliding one slender finger into your heat. Your thighs twitch as they spread wider for him, sighing happily as you feel another finger join the first.

“I don’t have to prep you much. That indica really is hitting you hard ain’t it darlin’.”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him gently graze against your sweet spot. He does this a few more times before beginning to thrust his fingers faster. A thumb grazes your clit as he continues his assault on your most delicate spot. He tilts your head back, smiling at your misty eyes and sloped smile. “Look at you, all sensitive and at my mercy, such a sweet peach ya are.” He stops his fingers, bringing them to your lips. You gently lick them before sucking them clean, moaning at your taste and the look in his eyes. “I think you’re ready for the main course my little prince.”

He smiles as he pulls your back against his chest. Lifting your plush thighs up as he angles his cock to your entrance, lowering you gently he sucks in a breath at your tightness. “Mmm~ shit, you’re so fucking tight,” his groans filled your ears as he held you close, bouncing you on his cock. You laid your head back against his shoulder as he began to thrust up into you. He hummed softly to himself as he set a steady pace, rubbing your clit in tandem to when he was balls deep inside of you.

Touya turned your face towards him, kissing your soft lips ever so slightly as he devoured your moans. He sped up his pace, the sounds of wet slaps filled the smoke filled room. He continued his stream of praise as he felt his cock clench around his cock. Balls slapping against you as his pace quickened. “My sweet boy- ngh- my prince, I’m very close. I’m gonna fucking cream you, alright?” You nodded in understanding as you felt his grip tighten around your hips. His pace quickened as he felt himself grow closer to completion, reaching over he flicked your clit quickly. Your moans reached a higher pitch at the added sensation. His nails dub into your skin, leaving crescent moon shapes in their wake as he pushes you into your stomach. Humping you like a dog he kissed your neck, “Ready to take all of me my sweet boy, gonna fucking be full of my fucking cum.”

He sped as fast as he could, smacking your ass as he growled. Your own moans grew in octaves as you felt over your peak. Squirting on his cock and all over the couch below your body shook. He held his hips close to yours, filling your pussy with his thick cum as his balls twitched against your clit. “Holy fuck~ my prince really knows how to take my cock don’t he, such a good boy~”

[bellakitse]

Only you

TK stares into Carlos’ brown eyes, lost in them and the love he sees there. “Do you think about kids?” he finds himself blurting out loudly, his voice cracking at the end.

+

Seeing Carlos with the Vega girls sparks a conversation between TK and Carlos about their future.

*spoilers for 2.14*

“Well, that was fun,” Tommy says dryly as they pull the ambulance into her driveway as the sun sets on Austin. “Pretty sure we’re going to find dust on us for weeks to come.”

TK nods, making a face as he parks the rig. “In very uncomfortable places for sure.”

Tommy chuckles, flashing him an amused smile as he shifts in his seat. “Come on, let’s go see if your boy survived my own forces of nature.”

TK grins back at his Captain, himself interested in seeing how Carlos faired with the adorable Vega twins. He follows Tommy towards her front door, stopping short when she comes to a stop two steps into the house.

“Damn, that really is cute,” he hears her say, fond and a little emotional. 

TK peers over her shoulder, curious to see what she means, his breath catching in his lungs at the sight before them, causing him to let out a soft sound. “Oh.”

Isabella, Evie, and Carlos are asleep on the couch – Carlos in the middle, while the girls each use one of his legs as a pillow. Carlos’ hands rest on the girls’ backs protectively, his head tilting forward.

“I used to find them like this with Charles all the time,” Tommy whispers, bringing a shaky hand to her mouth, taking a breath before she continues. “They would tire themselves out playing and still wait up for me to come home. I used to tell Charles not to do it, but he was such a pushover when it came to the girls.” 

TK places a comforting hand on her shoulder, giving her a small smile when she turns to look at him. “He was a really good dad,” he whispers back, squeezing her shoulder when she gives him a wobbly nod. 

“He really was,” Tommy agrees, sniffing loudly to keep from crying. She turns to look back at the three sleeping bodies, her smile coming back as she does. “Your boy is a good one in training.”

TK startles at the comment, his heart ticking up nervously at the suggestion behind her words. “Oh, I, that’s, we – ” he stammers as Tommy turns her knowing eye to him.

“Did I just break your brain?” she asks with a smirk, her brown eyes dancing with affectionate amusement.

TK tries to answer, coming up with nothing; finally, he lets out a huff, rolling his eyes as she continues to smirk at him. “That was mean, Cap,” he pouts when she lets out another chuckle.

“I’m just making an observation,” she says as she lifts her hands innocently. “You found yourself a good one, and as one of my kids,” she continues warmly as she reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I’m happy for you.”

TK feels a lump in his throat at her words, both her comments about him and Carlos and her familial affection for him making him feel warm inside. “Thanks, Cap,” he says softly, giving her fingers a squeeze in hopes she understands he feels the same love for her.

Tommy gives him another smile before she nods towards the trio. “I’ll let you do the honors,” she motions.

TK lets out another huff of laughter as he moves towards the couch, crouching down to be at eye level with Carlos. He reaches out to touch his cheek, smiling softly when his boyfriend instinctively leans into the touch. “Babe, wake up, we’re back,” he says softly as he runs his hand from Carlos’ cheek to his hair. He watches him, his smile growing as he slowly opens his beautiful brown eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips when he’s awake enough to realize it’s him.

“Hey, baby,” Carlos says with a yawn, bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Saved the world?”

TK moves his head from side to side jokingly. “We did our part,” he answers, stroking Carlos’ curls once more. “How did you do?”

“The girls are crazy good at the Nintendo Switch,” he answers, looking over his shoulder to look at Tommy. “They kicked my butt, but they’re going to let me have a re-match when I get better.”

“How magnanimous of them,” Tommy laughs softly with a shake of her head. “I better get them to bed even though it probably means they’ll be up at the crack of dawn.”

“I got it, no worries, Captain Vega,” Carlos answers as he smoothly gets up without waking either girl. TK stares, his heart pounding a little faster as Carlos picks up Evie first, heading for the girls’ bedroom. A few minutes later, he comes back for Isabella, doing the same, leaving him and Tommy alone in the living room watching after him.

“Damn,” Tommy whispers, impressed, her eyes twinkling. She turns her gaze to him, and TK feels himself blush at the knowing look she gives him. “I bet you take advantage of those muscles.”

TK’s face burns, but it doesn’t stop him from giving her a bratty smirk that makes her laugh with delight. “You know it, Cap.”

 ֎֎֎

 TK comes into the bedroom he and Carlos are temporarily using in his father’s home, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. “Even with the shower, I feel like I didn’t get all the dust off.”

“I offered to spot check you, and you said no,” Carlos answers from the head of the bed where he’s reading a book.

“The crew is coming over in an hour,” he reminds him, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he drops the towel around his waist while looking for a pair of underwear, smiling to himself as he feels Carlos’ eyes on his backside. “If you had joined me, we’d still be in there, and you know it.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t want to tempt me with your wet, naked body,” Carlos asks sarcastically as TK hears him close his book and stand from the bed.

“Exactly,” he answers teasingly, letting out a gasp when he feels Carlos’ body pressed against his back.

“Then you’re not doing a great job, baby,” he whispers into the skin under his right ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth to give it a soft suck.

“Seriously? Now?” TK groans even as he presses his body back into Carlos’ frame. He turns around, letting out a shallow breath at the heat he finds in Carlos’ gaze. “When we have people coming over, and I can’t have my wicked way with you the way I have wanted to since we left Tommy’s?”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at him. “Anything in particular that got you going at Tommy’s?”

TK feels himself blush, realizing his mistake. Turning around again, he quickly slips on a pair of blue boxer briefs before reaching for a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve button-down shirt with flowers on them.

“TK?”

TK sighs softly, knowing Carlos isn’t going to let it go. He turns back towards his boyfriend, giving him a sheepish smile when he finds his curious gaze on him. “You taking care of the girls,” he starts to say, his face growing hotter when Carlos raises an eyebrow at him, the corners of his lips twitching as he begins to understand. “You looked really good with them, and I thought – “

“What?” Carlos questions softly, his expression serious and focused on him as he comes back into TK’s space, reaching out to place his hands on his hips. “You thought what?”

TK stares into Carlos’ brown eyes, lost in them and the love he sees there. “Do you think about kids?” he finds himself blurting out loudly, his voice cracking at the end. He cringes, opening his mouth, ready to apologize, stopping short when Carlos speaks.

“Yes,” he says easily, giving TK a shrug like they’re talking about something simple and not children, which is anything but. “I think of a little boy who I can teach to cook, and read the stories my mom used to read to me at bedtime. A mini-you, who you’ll dress up in flower button-downs and skinny jeans to match with you. Maybe a little girl afterwards, the queen of the house, wrapping both of us around her little finger. They would get away with everything with us as their parents,” he chuckles fondly as he paints their future with his words. “We would love them so much.”

TK stares at Carlos, feeling his heart pounding. He swallows hard, clearing his throat when he finds it hard to speak. “You want kids with me?” he whispers, afraid that any louder will break the magic of the moment.

Carlos smiles softly, his eyes closing for a moment as he does so. When he opens them, he takes another step, their chests brushing against each other as he reaches up to cup TK’s face, tilting it towards his. “Baby,” he says gently, rubbing the tip of his nose against his as he presses their foreheads together.

TK swallows again, overwhelmed by the emotions he’s feeling. He squeezes the sides of Carlos’ waist, needing something to anchor himself.

“When I think about kids, or the future in general,” he continues, love coming off him in waves. “You are at the center, always. Whether there are kids or not in it, my future has you right there next to me. You are my future, TK.”

TK closes the small gap between their faces, kissing Carlos desperately, letting out a groan when Carlos matches his need. They kiss long and hard, hands touching any part of the other they can, and TK really wants to take it further if it weren’t for the fact that their friends are going to be over any minute. He’s not done thinking about it when he hears the bell ring. He pulls away reluctantly, whimpering when he sees the heat in Carlos’ eyes.

“To be continued,” he promises, leaning in to give Carlos another kiss, this one soft and tender. “You’re my future too,” he whispers, his eyes locking with Carlos’, making sure he understands he means it. “That little boy and little girl, none, one, two, or six kids,” he grins when it makes Carlos chuckle. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s with you and only you.”

Carlos pulls him into a hug, kissing the side of his face. “I love you.”

TK returns the embrace, pressing his lips into Carlos’ muscled shoulder. “I love you too.”

[sparkywrites25]

Levi x Reader x Petra Baby Headcanons

Writing that Levi x Reader x Petra gave me the bug and one of my favourite tropes is pregnancy so here are some headcanons for the three of you handling the pre-birth and post-birth journeys. For this post Y/N is the one pregnant although I'd say most if not all of these would apply with Petra too. I had a lot of fun writing these. I didn't think I'd do headcanons because I had few ideas but once I started with those I did have, more snowballed out of my brain.

Petra and Levi's reactions to the pregnancy are extremely different initially. Petra is thrilled about the baby and becoming a parent. She's very much of the "new life, new hope" mindset and "bringing something good into this world". She wants to stroke your bump and talk to the baby straight away. She also wastes no time in checking in with you about your symptoms and how you're feeling about this pregnancy - whether it's something you want.

Levi's mind, however, immediately jumps to the fact that his child is going to be born into a shitty world and could end up losing two out of its three parents before its even born. There's the threat of the Armoured and Colossal Titans returning to breach another world. This world is too damn fucking dangerous and so he's kicking himself for getting you pregnant.

He doesn't really hide this feeling which is disappointing but his reasoning becomes pretty clear real fast so you know it's not coming from a hateful or malicious place. He wants a good future, a safe future for any children you all may have and right now this world is not there yet. He knows it might never be.

But he is conflicted. This is his child. This is your child - all three of yours. He's shocked yeah, but that love is still planted beneath layers of fear and doubt. He knows one thing though. He will never walk away from this, like his father and Kenny did. He made this child and he's committed to looking after his family.

Oh how quickly honourable commitment turns to him fully embracing the idea though. When the shock wears off and the fear fades just a little, he remembers his time with his mother - how he wouldn't wish any of that away in order to be born into a different life. He loved his time with her mostly and even though it was hard, (and raising this child will be hard too, he knows) he wants to have that with his child.

He and Petra are god sends when it comes to your morning sickness. Petra's at your side rubbing your back and holding your hair (and when she's not, Levi is) while Levi's on standby to clean up after you once he's readied some water and plain crackers (according to Hange these are good for not triggering your nausea too much).

Petra is better at handling your mood swings but Levi still gives you good, steadying hugs. If you're getting teary, he tells shit jokes to try and make you laugh. Once he realizes that you also take amusement from it, he also rants about annoying habits and behaviours of comrades.

Levi is genuinely perplexed by some of your cravings and his reaction often has you and Petra in giggles. Due to his insomnia, he handles most of the late night cravings but sometimes Petra beats him to it so he can rest. She generally fetches your cravings during the day.

They're both very conscious of making sure you don't overdo things but they also don't baby you either. If you aren't clearly straining yourself or struggling, they will simply remain watchful around you. (Neither of them want to just leave you to it in case anything does happen.) They have faith in your strength but they also know you don't like to be a burden and so may overestimate your limits.

Levi and Petra very much tag team you when it comes to staying hydrated and eating properly.  They do recognize that morning sickness makes that more difficult. Petra, however, will try and get you to eat just a little but more often, spread throughout the day. A few crackers here and there to tide you over.

Levi experiments with home made cleaning supplies to produce effective ones without strong smells that might trigger your nausea. He actually quite enjoys the production process and you and Petra spy on him in the doorway trying not to coo and giggle until one of you inevitably gives the game away and you both get locked out as his ears go pink.

When it comes to your aches and swollen ankles and fingers, your two lovers team up to help you. Levi hates handling feet unless you all have literally gotten out of the shower or bath so Petra volunteers to massage your feet and ankles while Levi will either roll you on your back or side (depending on how big the bump is) and massage your back. He's super careful not to use too much of his strength but oh man he's so good at working out all those tense places. Often you fall asleep from his and Petra's massages.

Generally Levi hates crumbs in bed and the like but he will bring you food in bed if you're not feeling well enough to get up and move around. You can bet those sheets are getting cleaned though as soon as you are well enough to get up or go to get a bath.

Petra runs the best baths. While Levi puts enough soap in, he doesn't get the bubbles as foamy and frothy as Petra does.

However Levi does make you the best tea and he is basically your tea boy. He's researched what ones are better for pregnancy and keeping anxieties at bay.

Petra and Levi handle the whole labour process very differently. Petra outwardly frets and panics about things while Levi takes charge of the situation calmly (although his mind is already running through scenarios in which things could go horribly wrong).

God forbid that infirmary is not clean enough for his standards because he would rather have you give birth in his quarters. Which of course ends up happening because Levi's child is not being born into an environment any less than the very best - even though the medics in the infirmary do try and keep their workspace as clean as possible but are also so busy.

Petra cries buckets when you finally give birth and Levi's eyes are suspiciously shiny, accompanied by a shaky expression like someone's picked him up and completely rattled him. The pair of them wrap their arms around you and snuggle in to admire your child.

When it's their turn to hold the baby, you're left in tears of joy as Petra rocks the baby and coos gently, kissing them all over their face. She gently rubs her nose against the baby's.

Levi cradles his child with such security and yet tenderness. He stares at them amazed, struck dumb by the very notion that he helped create this tiny person. He kisses their head and whispers how much he loves them.

The pair of them are amazing in the aftermath of you giving birth. Scout HQ is currently the old royal residence most of the time (even before Eren) and Erwin allows you and the baby to stay at HQ for now since Levi's quarters are away from most of the others (by his request) and it'll be easier for Levi to focus on work with you both here.

Levi and Petra manage to coordinate time off to help you out without leaving Levi Squad leaderless. In the day time, Levi does most of the training with the squad although sometimes  Eld covers. While one is training, the other one helps you out or catches up on paperwork (or sleep).

Once you've recovered, you take up more responsibility with the baby and take over Levi's paperwork. You have chosen not to remain as a soldier but you can still help out paperwork wise and Erwin talks about having you handle more officers' paperwork once your baby is older.

At night, Levi will fetch the baby to you if they need feeding otherwise he will change them and try and soothe them himself. (He'll bring them to you if you want cuddles as well).

Overall, you fall into a good routine. It doesn't solve every problem nor does it mean none of you get exhausted or snappy but it works.