#tid reblogs

[aromantisk-fagforening]

[tid-liddell]

Uploading my attempts to draw Star's more canonical-looking face :P

I'm sorry. But someone had to do this. But i'm sorry.

If you don't know about this AU, you may read the comic there(PLEASE SEE THE TRIGGER WARNINGS AT THE DESCRIPTION BEFORE READING)

[tscsmashorpass]

TSC Smash or Pass Tournament: Round 1

[a-dragons-journal]

hi im politely asking for you to take down your response to my post, i do not want the kind of attention i am receiving. thank you

*sigh* I was going to draft a response to your first response to my reblog yesterday, but it's been a weird and stressful couple of days for me and I didn't want to accidentally snap at you because I didn't have the brain space to give the conversation the respect and attention it deserves, so I delayed it to today, and it appears that may have come off as me being rude and ignoring you. For that I apologize; that was not my intent.

I'm sorry that a couple of people have been rude to you in the tags on that post. I also apologize if my response came off as harsh or hostile in any way; as I noted in that initial reblog, I've been seeing a lot of people saying with their whole chest that alterhuman just means nonhuman, and the frequency is getting frustrating, but that's not your fault and the frustration might have unfairly spilled over into my tone. It seems from some of your more recent reblogs like it might've just been a misphrase, but it's hard to tell, so I didn't want to assume it was - and in any case, the explanation and example list was for anon as much as it was for you. I wasn't trying to attack or "rag on" you at all, and I don't think most of the people leaving tags agreeing with me were either, though obviously I can't speak for them. I was just trying to prevent misinformation from spreading - because even if you didn't mean "alterhuman = nonhuman," if that's how it read to me, it's probably how it read to an anon who has no way of knowing better, and that's how people come away actually thinking that's what the word means.

With that being said, I'm going to politely decline to delete my reblog of that post. I won't answer in further reblogs (unless you address me directly, of course) and thus won't bump it any further up my blog, but the existing reblog has already been up for two days and reblogged by multiple people; anyone who was going to see it on their dashboard from my blog has probably already seen it, so deleting it won't actually accomplish decreasing the people responding in your notes. All it will do is get rid of the clarification of potential misunderstanding, which I honestly don't really want to do when it won't do any good. If the post keeps causing you problems, turning off reblogs would probably do more to get rid of that problem than my deleting my response would; you should be able to do that in the edit interface on any post, at least on desktop (I'm never sure how mobile works exactly lol). (And that's a reversible change where deletions are not, to boot.)

[moonlitsnake-art]

RAHHHH, I FINALLY FINISHED A PROJECT I TOOK FOREVER ON!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Its an info sheet/intro to my ocs!!!!

Below is individual cuts, the text if you can't read it, and small ramble bc I'm proud of this 😋🥳

SIA!

Omnisexual, demigirl : She/They

Fav color: Bright pink and Green

Yeah!!! X3: >her older sister >loud music! >sour candy >bright colors >flavored chapstick >MLP

Nope!! >_<: >Chunky salsa >Getting scared >Being alone for long >Losing her earbuds >Squids >Boredom

Birthday: 7/28 (Leo)

Nova:

Aro-ace: She/Her

Fav color: French navy blue

Yes: >Her younger sister >(Her) Home-made cooking >Designing outfits >The night sky >Libraries >Thunderstorms

No: >Spiders >Fire >Losing her sister >Being caught by them >Any religious imagery >Too much sugar

Birthday: 10/3 (Libra)

omg, Omg, OMG!!! I'm so flipping proud of this and needed official refs for them and now I have them!! It took me like FOREVER to draw, color, and sticker both of them. But alas, they are just but tragic cat sisters lol.

[drusilla-carstairs]

look on my blog for the other families! only important members of every family will be included

[caterpillarinacave]

*at the Battle Of Cadair Idris*

Charlotte, holding Henry: He’s just resting

Cecily and Magnus: In pieces! That man is dead

Charlotte: h e s s o s l e e p y

[brupara]

Bastard and the Blade - Casper R. Lee, 2022

Hi, please enjoy my Very Trans painting inspired by Baroque art.

[livvyofthelake]

should be illegal for random shadowhunter fandom people to even see my little posts let alone reblog them.

[brryth]

you need to make that collage, you need to make that stupid journal entry that's totally rushed and ill worded and add a little time stamp on the side, you need to make something using stickers, you need to make moodboards and collect photos for your silly fantasies and stories, you need to keep scraps and make something out of it

[rei-the-head-shaker]

Spotify wrapped

Reblog with your 1st and 100th song of the year

[beepbeepdespair]

christmas photography at the local garden centre's display, part one

if you like these, please consider checking out last year's!

part one//part two//part three

[tscsmashorpass]

TSC Smash or Pass Tournament: Round 1

[rafelandia]

Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.

Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?” Rafe called out.

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.

“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.

“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.

“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."

Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.” 

Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.

“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.

“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.

“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”

Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.

“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.

“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.

“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.

Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[drusilla-carstairs]

go to my blog for the other families!!

[kairiscorner]

Hii, can I request Miguel with sunshine reader, who actually struggles a lot mentally? Like they are kind, friendly and very playful with pretty much everyone, but they find it difficult to open up about their constant feeling of loneliness and emptiness. And so Miguel sees them at the moment when all their facade is gone.

No pressure ofc, feel free to deny it if you don't feel like doing it🌿

HIII ANON, omg i love this idea SO MUCH, i hope i did this justice :') but here you gooooo

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

summary: miguel o'hara could never fully comprehend someone of your caliber; you were just too much for him. you were loud, playful, open, and kind; he thought you were that simple. but when he caught you one day after a mission, seeing you in a light he never thought he could see you in... he realized there was much more to you than you were letting on.

warnings: mentions of self-deprecation (this is an angst, for the most part)

word count: 2,655

miguel couldn't wrap his head around you at first, around you and your psyche, around you and just how consistently tenderhearted and amiable you were towards everyone in the spider society. when he first sought you out, he thought you were the same as him; shattered, isolated, and dissociative from people to protect not only them, but yourself. but oh, was he wrong. he knew your background very well, he knew you suffered many tragedies in your life, be it as a spider person or as a person of your own, you had too much happen to you all at once.

he sympathized with you in many ways, but he knew someone of your aptitude would be remarkable help in his elite force. the first time he met you, however, he was greeted with a completely subverted image of the spider person he expected you to be. you were warm, friendly, sweet, and open.

you were a little shy and anxious around him at first, and he couldn't blame you. it was your first time meeting someone like you, but you were so enthusiastic about meeting him and the prospect of meeting so many other spider people just like you that you couldn't sit or stand still at the thought of meeting them all.

miguel asked himself at first why you seemed so trusting, so eager to meet people when he heard how well people in your life have hurt you in the past. he didn't know the specifics of it because he was busy recruiting other spider people and monitoring other universes, but he knew of the events in your life, at least short, important tid bits of them; and he had never felt more sympathy for anyone else in his life until you came along.

when you were first initiated into the spider society, miguel was a little taken aback at how easy it was for you to make friends. you had a lot of people to talk to, bond with, and impress already, and they loved you!

every single one of them was captivated by how charming you were, how generous you were of your time and services, and how quick you were on your feet to offer yourself to join some of the spider folks on missions, or even just run errands so they wouldn't have to do it alone.

you were, in the truest sense possible, an angel. the spider society loved you, they all believed you could do no wrong. you were always up for helping other people and ensuring their safety and comfort. though sometimes you'd go overboard and not hesitate to sacrifice your own safety and comfort for them, you'd tell them it's okay, you'd willingly go above and beyond for the people you care about.

you kept telling yourself it was okay to lose yourself for other people.

you kept telling yourself it didn't matter, so long it was just you and not them.

that's how your world revolved, right? people came and went as they pleased, you did your best, your everything to keep them, and you'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it'd meant they'd stay. you wished they'd stay if what you had to do was carry their burdens and misfortunes. you were strong, capable, and durable; you convinced yourself you could take it. you saved your city before, time and time again--even if you were battered, bruised, bloodied and thankless in the end, you smiled regardless and were willing to do it all over again.

"don't worry about me, i'm your friendly neighborhood spider person! i'm built for this stuff, i've got you." "oh, no! i'll take care of that for you, i'd rather you rest. let me take care of it, i've got you." "i'll take care of this! you guys do your own thing, i'll do this. ...because i've got you."

endlessly, those three words: "i've got you" is ingrained in miguel's head. he's not exactly tired of hearing it, he's impressed on how keen you are to be useful and pick up your own slack plus others' work. he does think you're a bit of a pushover for that, though, which he is a little disappointed with, but nothing he can do to force you out of that trait of yours.

he does wish you'd say no or stand your ground whenever you were uncomfortable with something, but then again, like all great pretenders, you took every favor and request with a smile and a pep in your step. it was like you wanted everyone to know you live to serve, that you wanted nothing but to be useful to everyone, even if it put a strain on you.

however, when you and your team came back from a mission with significantly more injured spiders than usual, instead of being greeted with your concerned yet reassuring self that'd rush to the side of the injured spiders, you ran away when you got back to HQ, leaving them behind as you looked away in what appeared to be... unbridled shame.

miguel weaved his way through the small crowd that gathered around the injured spider people when he was told they'd all be out of commission for a while, but otherwise, do okay; he had to find you, because he had a feeling something was off about you, something must've happened.

miguel wordlessly searched for you, thinking that if he called out for you, you'd run away and hide even more. not long after, he heard soft sobs and whimpering by a nearby broom closet. miguel halted in his tracks and moved closer to the door. his expression softened and became one of genuine worry, but he still remained his composure as he realized that voice that was choking up tears and sobbing was yours.

he knocked on the door of the broom closet, and soon, the sobbing stopped for a minute. "...do you want to talk?" miguel asked you after that moment of pure silence. you didn't respond for a little while, but you gave in and slowly opened the door, your eyes and nose puffy and red; your lip quivering at the corners--you really weren't okay, and this was a rare sight to behold.

miguel's expression soon cracked into one of worry. he instinctively moved toward you a step closer, but held back in fear of you sobbing again. "what happened?" he asked you in a gentle voice, a voice that promised he wouldn't judge you for whatever answer you give him, because miguel always had that feeling: there were a million unsaid things that were so, so wrong; but you never uttered a word about it, nor cried a plea for any help, and kept all your feelings locked away behind your insincere, forced smile.

you looked down, not wanting to make eye contact with miguel... or anyone, for that matter. you tried to shake your head, deny anything was wrong, but not this time. you had betrayed yourself, your own feelings, wants, and needs for the longest time that they all just came spilling out and being released from you in a much needed sob.

you could feel yourself tearing up again, and you tried to fight it, but miguel shook his head and put his hands on your shoulders. "no. stop it." he said in a concerned yet stern voice as he gazed at you and your glassy eyes, keeping your tears in the best you could. "stop holding it in. please. i know you want to see everyone happy, i know you don't want things to go wrong anymore, but please... don't keep your feelings bottled up. it does you more harm than good." he uttered softly as his grip on you tightened a little.

you heard it. finally, you heard it. those words that you longed to hear, in the many years you've been hurt, lied to, and abandoned by people you loved and cared about; you finally heard permission to cry, to be vulnerable, to be weak for a moment. you finally had a moment of respite from all the pretending you were sick of doing.

in a moment, you went from being composed, yet red and puffed up in the eyes and nose, to a full on sobbing mess in front of miguel. he let go of you when you started sobbing, but you held on to him as you cried. he took that as a sign that you didn't mind him holding you as you cried, you never had that luxury before anyway, being held as you cried, letting go of everything you've been holding for the longest time.

it was relieving, it was soothing, but it was painful. it was a remedy for your wounded emotions, crying your heart out as miguel held you. you knew you might get sick afterwards, crying so hard your heart might break, but miguel pat your back--albeit a little awkwardly--and whispered words of encouragement to let it out, let it all out.

"i hurt them..." you muttered through your sobs. "i told them i had it, i thought i had it, i thought i could take out the villain all on my own." you murmured as your sniffling continued. "i didn't want them to get hurt, really, i promise... but i took one wrong step, and–" you choked out as you cried even more as miguel shushed you and told you it was okay to let it out.

"i... just... i just don't want–don't want to be left alone anymore... i don't want to be hated, i don't want to be talked bad about behind my back; i want to feel like i belong." you whispered as your crying slowly stopped to let you breathe for a bit, taking in a ragged breath as you leaned against miguel, exhausted after letting out exactly what you felt and held in, all this time.

"you're... so very brave." he murmured as your sobs drowned out what he was saying. he didn't raise his voice at you, and especially not when you were in this state. "but so, so foolish." he remarked as he looked down at you, still sobbing. he sighed as he put a hand on your chin and angled your head to look up at him, the softness in his face ever so present as yours became redder and puffier.

"you're amazing, you can do anything and everything asked of you, and everyone loves you for that. and yet, you can't seem to give yourself a break. you're... you're forcing yourself to become someone you don't want to be." he says in a soft voice. "...i might just be doing that." you say as the realization of what you've been doing to yourself dawned on you.

miguel pulled away from you a little and ran a hand through his hair, still looking at you, but thinking of what to tell you. "if you're scared of them rejecting you for showing weakness or this... vulnerable side of you, don't be. i've worked with many of these people for years, some i've only met recently, but all of them–all of the people here love you." he told you as he watched you wipe the tears from your eyes, still sniffling. "every single one of them, they all have something nice to say about you. but we're all concerned for you," he said as he took your hand in his.

"you're constantly taking their burdens upon yourself. you don't think they realize that? they appreciate you, so, so much; but they want you to stop and think about yourself first." he tried getting his words through to you in a pleading voice. "we're a team. you don't have to go through this alone. and, really..." he said as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, staring down at how much smaller, more vulnerable you were compared to him. "...i wanted to be the one to keep you from falling apart and letting yourself forget who you really are. i know i knew you for, what, a few months? but even before that, before you joined us, before you are who are now, i've seen how you are, how you act--and i've been informed of... tribulations you've gone through, things you keep hidden underneath the surface. you've been through too much for one to bear all alone."

you look up at miguel, and for the first time, you feel something new; you feel as though, despite the troubles you've gone through, the troubles you sometimes inflict upon yourself, you do have someone looking out for you. and it's always been him, ever since the beginning.

"and because... i know what it's like. i know what it's like to have to mask yourself so nobody gets worried about you, so no one thinks you're easy pickings... so you don't hurt or get hurt anymore..." miguel continued as his voice got softer. he took a breath in, and letting it out in an exhausted sigh, as if he, too, were also sick of hiding exactly how he felt and who he was. "it's the things we keep hidden that always show." he said as he looked at your eyes. "but don't... don't be scared to show it. and if not the others... you have me." he said softly, slowly reeling back from you, letting go of your hand gently and widening his eyes as he realized what he was saying. a silence befell you two as you stared at him, in wonder, at this side of miguel; this side he was hiding that he soon showed, that he soon brought to light in front of you.

"can you do something for me?" miguel asked as he broke the silence, looking into your swollen eyes. "please promise me that when you say 'i've got this'... remind yourself that i've got you. i'm right here for you to call, any time you need me." he said with a small smile as he wiped the tears from your eyes. "do you promise me?" he asked you as you slowly nodded, with his hand lowering down to your cheeks and resting there. "i promise. i... got this. i've got you." you said with a small smile. he returned the smile with one of his own. "you've got me." he said as he rubbed your cheek softly.

and as miguel were about to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him, your bright, signature smile returning to your face. your eyes were still puffy and swollen, but they shone, even in the dim light of this tiny broom closet. "thank you, miguel." you thanked him before he could leave, your arms tightening around his waist as you held him close, not wanting to let him go. it wasn't out of fear that you didn't want to let him go, you wanted to let him feel just how much he's saved you from yourself, how good it felt to be told those words for the first time in a long, long while.

miguel was shaken at first when you held him, he... hadn't been held that way in... ever. he didn't know what to do in the beginning, he wasn't sure when you'd pull away, but as the embrace prolonged, he found himself wishing you wouldn't pull away. he soon brought his arms up, then, he brought them close to your back, still hovering his arms in the air awkwardly as you leaned into the hug.

then, in one final swoop, he took the plunge and embraced you back; and miguel had never felt a happier silence than that, embracing you, who finally let yourself show how you truly felt, and how, even if you were scared of being abandoned again, being left alone... miguel was not one of those people for you to fear would leave.

not now, not ever.

a/n: NERIJOBFIURBIUBRIBVVBBNE NGL I FEEL LIKE I KINDA DRAGGED THIS OUT AND DIDN'T EXPRESS EVERYTHING I WANTED TO SAY, BUT THIS AAAAAAAAAA I'M CRYINGGGGG

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @luvstarrstruck