#too much weight loss after pregnancy

[yeyinde]

baby blues

John Price + the panic of fatherhood x reader

pregnancy. babies. soft. sappy. angsty. slight allusions to rough sex. John being possessive and smitten. allusions to childhood trauma. the fear of children is somehow more potent than the fear of god. girl dad John. mentions of Price's divorce lmao

Most assume he'd take to fatherhood like he'd been born for the role; handcrafted to cradle a swaddled babe in his arms. The perfect father figure. But as he hovers over your sleeping form, the little bundle nestled in the sleepy bracket of your arms, he's overcome with a sense of dread that punches hard enough to shatter bone.

The reality is this: Price doesn't understand kids. He wants them. Covets them with a viciousness that almost immediately sets alarm bells off in the heads of those who were opposed to the idea of children, parenthood. Giving birth. But when it comes to being a dad, a role model, an effigy to siphon wisdom and knowledge off of, he flounders. Hesitates.

All he has as an idea of fatherhood is bruises laughed off by the neighbours as him being a clumsy boy. A man who drank in the living room, silent in his fury, his belligerence, until something—anything, really—set him off. He always seemed like he was itching for a reason to punish.

And god, was he ever fucking good at it.

If anger issues are hereditary, then Price picked up the generational slack of his seething ancestors. 

It's this, and the plethora of scars and burns that decorate his skin (well hidden, tucked away like a dirty secret because if Old Man Price was anything, it certainly wasn't stupid; he knows how to hide the ugliness of himself away, and how to turn a boy into a punching bag without causing too much damage, too much alarm) that make him ache something fierce when he sees his chubby little child for the first time. 

Price doesn't know how to be gentle. All he has are worn, rough hands and a constant stench of smoke. A voice that makes grown men tremble. An ire unmatched thus far in his life. 

Until you. Little spitfire. His hellion. You stood on the tips of your toes just to tell him off for being a stubborn pig! and then taught him how to hold you. How to be tender. But even now, he can see the wear on your skin from his bites. His propensity for violence that he morphs into desire. Into lust. 

How is he supposed to be a dad when he's this caustic? This mean? 

The answer doesn't come. All he gets is the rhythmic sigh of your breath as you sleep, well and truly exhausted after giving birth to their child. All alone. A constant in your lives, it seems. Aloneness. His work takes him away, throws him into dangerous situations. And you carry the brunt of it. 

It caused the rupture of his first marriage and is a needling fear he carried with him when you started pursuing him some odd years ago. To think that he'd be standing here now, gazing down at you with your heavy eyes and your soft cheeks, rounded with the additional weight you gained during your early trimesters. A plushness he's trying to keep on you for good—all softened edges, flesh that gives when he touches you, marshmallows out between his fingers when he squeezes.

You look good like this. Motherhood, despite your misgivings (it took three years of him hinting and hounding you before you'd relented with a sure, what's the worst that could happen? We're terrible parents and raise a terrible kid? Or we end up the catalyst for a list of psychological issues and get reamed out during their therapy sessions later on in life?), suits you. Fits you like a glove.

A fact you'd been quietly overwhelmed by in the first few months, grieving the loss of something he couldn't ever understand, or experience. A piece of yourself morphing into the mother that raised you. A kaleidoscope of feelings that you choke on when he asks, unable to render them into coherent words. 

But you're good at that, aren't you? Good at culling expectations, at superseding the limits others place on you. Even him. 

Especially him. 

When he'd said, don't know what you're gettin’ yourself into, love, you took it to the chin like he challenged you to a brawl, and set out to show him why you knew what this was, what he was, and why it didn't matter much. 

Even now—

Giving birth all alone. Overcoming the isolation of being shackled to a man who married his post first. Sisterwife to his career. Second in all things. 

Even this. 

He was in Iceland when he got the call. Laswell, of all people, was on the other line telling him his own wife was in the delivery room. Water broke. Baby is on the way. 

And you—

Don't worry, old man. Just do what needs to be done and we'll be waiting. Always. 

—well. You certainly are. Alone in a hospital room with the curtains drawn to blot out the sun as you sleep, cradling this thing he made with his fingers shoved deep into your mouth, uttering foul under his breath as he crushed you to the bed, rutting you like an animal—the most tender he could ever be—and he's suddenly all too aware of his own inadequacies. His shortcomings. Failures. 

He's not a dad. He's not the sort of man people think about when they think healthy father figure. He likes cigars and whiskey, and sometimes aches for a mission that will let him cut his knuckles on teeth—bloodletting; exorcising his demons out on the people he's sanctioned to kill. How is he supposed to guide a child when he threw a man over a railing without a second thought—

The bundle stirs. Wrinkled, red face scrunching up tight. Little thing is just like you, huh? All softness and give. All—

They cry, and it's shrill. Loud. It jars him.

Not the sound, but the anguish he feels piercing through his chest as they bellow out their confusion to the world, this lost little thing. Strapped with a father who was beaten black and blue and told to be a man when he cried. 

But right now—anger is the furthest thing on his mind. He can't fathom that emotion when his child is whimpering in your arms, chubby little fingers grasping at the air. Seeking comfort. 

Waking you feels cruel when you've spent the better part of two days awake. Four, really. You couldn't sleep when the contractions hit, wide-eyed and worried about everything. What if something went wrong? If they hated you? What if you hurt them—

Worries he tried to assuage, but couldn't deny he felt them, too. 

All he knows how to do is hurt. But as he reaches down for this little thing squirming in your arms, he tells himself to be tender. To be the man his dad never was. 

And they're soft. So fuckin’ soft. Tiny, too. His hands dwarf them, engulfing them completely. He tries to blame the way he trembles on the denial of nicotine for so long, but the mist in his eyes, and the burn in his throat, call him a liar. He doesn't know what to do. Even with all the hours spent thumbing through manuals and books and scoffing under his breath at the parenting courses you dragged him to (but paid rigid attention to every word the heavily bangled woman said to him), he feels lost. Unsure. The ground is shaky. Control slips. And that's maybe the crux of it all—

Babies can't be controlled. And it's the loss of this, what makes him whole, keeps him steady, that has him feeling rubber-limbed and fawn-like. 

“Quiet, now,” he murmurs, and then winces at the rough drag of his voice in the silence of the room. Too firm, too forceful. All the gentleness he has in his bones was devoured by your greedy mouth when you cracked him open like the legs of a snow crab, marrow slurped up until he was hollow. Empty. His tenderness rests inside your belly. What else does he have to give—

But the warm bundle in his awkward, clumsy hold stops their shrill cries. A girl, he remembers you saying. Crying. Sobbing into the phone when he called, all ugly and gross. He heard you sniffle, snot undoubtedly dribbling from your nose as you wept to him about how fucking cute their baby was. Their little girl. 

She's soft. Smells of a newborn, too—something powdery. Sweet. Warmed milk, fresh bread. The clinical books that made you squeamish, the ones that outlined every anatomical and chemical change to your body, mentioned that newborns smelled distinct to each parent. A phenomenon meant to encourage protection and bonding. 

It made you shiver, muttering my little parasite under your breath, even as your hand curved possessively over your bulging belly. 

He knows that's what this is. Chemical. His mind is evolving, shifting. Changing. And it's then that he feels something hot thicken in his throat. Something ugly, and bitter. The scars on his knuckles, the cigarette burns on his fingers are a sharp reminder of what his father felt and ignored. 

He scoffs, then, irritated at himself. He's a grown man and still—

Still thinks of him. 

“Won't be like that,” he says, still rough. Still firm. She blinks up at him, eyes rheumy and wide. “Not with you.” 

Never. Never. He pins the word to his pericardium, letting it rot his tissue. He'd rather die, he thinks, than ever hurt this little girl. But despite that, he knows he will. Inevitably. Just like he does everything good—or bad—in his life. Leaching from the goodness of others, sucking them dry and letting them moulder. A disappointment everywhere except the battlefield where he screams himself hollow and rents the air with his ire. Incorrigible. Immovable. An object of cruelty. Unforgiving in all aspects. A curse that follows him home, into his marital bed when he pins you down, and makes you profess your love for the beast inside of him. Never satiated, never quelled, until you're shackled at his side. Tucked away from the world he knows is too cruel to people like you who end up a corpse he has to step over on his way for empty retribution. 

He thinks, too, about all the ways he's going to ruin this chubby little thing in his arms, and wishes, suddenly, he was a better man. 

“Gonna hate my fuckin' guts when you're sixteen, aren't you?” In response, this little thing just opens its red maw and blows bubbles. He huffs. “You're gonna be nothin’ but trouble, mm? Steal my car. Crash it because your mum's gonna teach you how to drive and she backed into the garage six times already. Gonna gang up on me. Both of you. Little nightmares.” 

He's not sure what else to say, and thinks, already, that he said too much. Bared his belly to her too soon. She'll have this memory, buried down in the deep recesses of her psyche of her father falling to pieces while he held her. An impossibility, he knows, but can't shake the feeling that this, in itself, is an epoch. A marker for what's to come. All the ugly, the hate. The screaming matches that make him curl his hand into fists as she levels his failures at him. Not to hit. Never to hit. But to stop the tremble that won't stop. That has already started. The shake in his joints that tell him to run before he hurts. Before he ruins this precious mass of his blood and your tissue in his arms. 

“Gonna—” he isn't crying. Isn't. But there's a thickness in his throat as he thinks about how quickly she'll grow up. Age marked in the crows feet that gather around your eyes. The laugh lines. “Gonna be a fuckin' menace, and I'll—” he chokes, then, when she reaches up with a pudgy, red fist and snags the strap of his vest he didn't even bother taking off before he fled here. Fat, tiny fingers curling into the spot he grabs to ground himself from lashing out. “Fuck.”

He'd burn the world for her, he knows. Sacrifice everyone and everything just to keep her warm. Both of you. It begins and ends with this little thing that has your eyes and his nose. 

But he doesn't know how to translate that into love. Into affection. 

It comes out caustic. Abrasive. Possessive. 

And he is. 

Now that he has her in his hands he knows that nothing else will ever compare. That they'll never be empty because she'll always fit in his palms no matter how big she gets. There's only ever been enough space in his heart for you. Chiselled into with a fuckin’ pickaxe because you wouldn't wait for it to grow on its own. 

But there's give, he realises. This domicile you carved yourself has a room attached. A place for her. And she fits like a glove. Sliding inside. Cocooned against his pulse. 

He loves her. Endlessly. Forever. She deserves better. More. 

But when he tells her this, she makes a noise and it sounds like a giggle. 

“Laughin’ at me already, mm?”

She giggles again, and he likes that her laugh is a little ugly. A little mean. 

“Scarin’ the wits outta me,” he confesses, shifting her weight as she occupies herself with the clasp of his vest, disinterested in the man that breaks into pieces around her now. “I don't know—fuck, I don't—”

You come to in a panic. It starts as a slow roll to the side before your eyes flash open, wide and furious even as sleep congeals in the corners, pawing at the empty spot where the lingering warmth of your child presses into your chest. Anger, fury, darkens over your brow, and the apoplectic rage that simmers in the gaps of your dread, your fostering panic, softens him. Makes him melt. The burn of your ire, your fear, liquifying his bones. 

He falls in love with you a little bit more at that moment. When the snarl rucks your upper lip up, up, teeth bared to the world as you whip your head around in frantic, desperate dismay, searching for the little girl he knows you, too, will burn the world for. 

“I've got her,” he says, whisper-soft and low. Cadence even, clear. Tries to quell the howl he can see hammering its fists against your throat before it rips from your lips and scorches the world around you in a hail of horrifying anguish. “She's safe.”

It says something when you immediately go still at the sound of his voice, muscles going lax, slack, as you slowly turn your head toward him, blinking against the fog clotting your vision. Something that cuts him to the core. Rents his chest in halves. One side for you, and the other for her. Nothing left to spare. 

This feeling brimming in his chest sweetens when you startle at the sight of him, them, lashes shuttering like an old camera as if you were trying to sear the image in your head forever. Branded on the back of your eyelids. (A sentiment he knows all too well considering the stream of photos added to his camera roll of you and her nuzzled together.)

“You—” your voice catches, breaks from sleep. Fatigue. You swallow, slowly licking your lips. “When did you get in?”

Your eyes are glued to them. Unblinking. Widened with pure affection, the intensity of which makes him want to touch you, hold you.

“A few hours ago,” he murmurs, glancing down at his—

It cuts a jagged line through his chest. Knicks his bone with how deep it goes. False starts pressed tight to his heart. 

—his daughter. Fuck’s sake. 

He's choked. Strangled. Rendered mute, immobilised. It guts him, this. Daughter. The ring of it echoes in his head, filling the recesses of his mind. Embedding itself within his head. Congealed over. Fixed in place. 

“I have a fuckin’ daughter,” he breathes at length, the air knocked from his lungs. He's not sure why this is what breaks him, but it does. And it's you, then, holding the fracturing pieces together, hands reaching out—in a startling mimicry of his daughter, and fuck, doesn't that just eviscerate him—and curling against the heaving brackets of his ribs, boxing him in. 

“John,” you say, but your voice wobbles. Wavers. When he peels his eyes away from the sleepy yawn she lets out long enough to look at you, there's tears flooding your lashline. Threatening to break. “Fuck,” you say, crass and beautiful, and he's overcome with the urge to tuck you into his other arm, keep you both cradled in his hands. “Don't make me cry or my stitches will tug.” 

“We've got a daughter,” he says again, just to hear it uttered aloud. We. Yours. His. It messes with him. Bludgeons into his core. “We've—”

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” 

Your words shatter him, but the pinch of your hands on his waist keeps him from buckling. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice thick. Ugly. It's mangled in his throat. All fractured and raw. “Just like her mother.”

He shows his affection in the burn of his embrace. In the way he holds you tight, refusing to let go. Keeps his words callous and firm. Soft utterances, declarations of love, tucked away in the sure, greedy way he clings to you in his sleep. Yields to you like no one else. Lets you in. 

And he supposes he ought to say it more often if the way your face crinkles up just like his daughter when she cried, tears spilling over your rounded cheeks. 

“Don't,” you heave, ugly and brittle, and he thinks you're the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in his life. “Don't or I'll rip my stitches—”

He huffs. Nods only once, and then steps toward you. “Do you want—?”

“Keep her for a little while,” you mutter, leaning back into the bed, eyes lidded by fond. So in love with him, the picture they paint, it's almost sickening. “She likes you.”

He snorts. “She's only three hours old. Give her time.” 

You're quiet for a beat. Pensive. Mulling something over. It's never a good thing when you're silent, and the unease that grows in his belly is justified when you heave out a long, tired exhale through your nose. 

The way you look at him is raw. “You're not your father, John.” 

And isn't that just the worst lie he'd ever heard.

He scoffs, then. Shifts his weight, still cradling his daughter tight to his chest. “Mm, 'dunno about that.”

“I do.”

“Jus’—” leave it. Keep going. Keep feeding him lies as he stands here and pretends that he wasn't a horrible bastard for wanting this from you. From taking it. Strapping you with a man who's always, always, one foot out the door—

“No.” You say, soft and sure. “You're not him. I know you're not because you're still here.”

“So was he.” 

You don't acknowledge the interruption. Content, it seems, to rattle off lies and half-truths into the stifling air. Your eyes close, the curve of your lashes leonine. Breathtaking.

“Do you want me to take her?” You ask instead of the multitude of things he can see piling behind your eyes. Some of the ugly. Jagged glass. Others powder soft. 

He shakes his head. “You need your rest,” it's a half-truth. Fatigue clings to you still, swathed in the purpling of your skin. The slow, heavy blinks you take to try and fight the tug of an artificial sleep. 

But the real reason is this:

He's just not ready to let her go. 

Thinks, viciously, suddenly, that if he does, this moment built between them in budding, liquid blue will cease forever. Severed too soon. She'll carry the same resentment in her heart he feels for his own father, and he'll die in a shallow pit thinking about how badly he wanted just a second longer. 

Generational, right? Trickle down hatred. Ancestral rage. It's what your grandma talks about sometimes over tea and fried bread, half disbelieving you brought a white man into her home, and making a show, a facade, of wisdom even though he spotted the how to raise a child notebook she hastily shoved into the kitchen drawer when you arrived. Taking over in place of your own mother, stepping up. And yet—

She just doesn't get it, you said, rubbing your hands over your belly when she steps away after another long-winded conversation about traditions, spirits, and dead languages. Raising a child like yours in a world like this. She's just. I don't know. Ignore her. 

(He doesn't. But you don't have to know that.)

So. He clings to her a little tighter. Holds her a little firmer. Brings her close to his chest and hopes she can hear the echo of his heartbeat and know that this tired, old song is just for her. 

(The heart itself for you—)

And maybe—

Maybe he's not quite ready to see you be a mother. Some perverse part of him is already trembling at the promise of watching you nurture and feed her, the tantalising whisper is enough to make the air in his lungs turn humid, sticky. Tar, you remind him sometimes, having seen the ugly spatter of black in the grainy photos the doctor in Hereford likes to shove at him. Never too late to reverse the damage, John. 

Or maybe he wants you for himself just a moment longer. An hour. A day. When you're still you, shackled and bound to a man who reeks of stale tobacco, and started sneaking cigarettes in the dead of night like some pimply, awkward teenager when you first came to him, cheeks wet and eyes wild, and said:

“John, I'm—”

Pregnant. 

He did it, of course. Put that baby in you. Made it with his teeth buried into your throat and your hips canting up to meet him, taking everything he had to offer. Animal aggression. Nothing tender in the way he chewed you up, made you beg him for it. But still—

Wanting and having are worlds apart, aren't they? 

Faced with it, the consequences of his actions, he's at a standstill. 

You hum, and when your eyes slide open, he feels the mallet against his head. Cracked open. You fossick about until you find what you're looking for. Cheeky fuckin’ thing—

“Fine. Just pull up a chair before you keel over, old man.” 

“M’fine,” he grouses in that voice that serves as a dice roll between making you feel hot or homicidal depending on the mood he catches you in. Muttering something under your breath that sounds like a whispered plea for guidance (“tss, gimme strength.”)

But even with the waspish denial, he's inching closer to the spare chair left in the corner, looping his ankle around the leg to slide it closer. The squeal of rubber on aluminium makes him grimace, eyes darting down to his sleeping girl, nestled in his arms. Her brow pinches in the same way your grandma’s do when she's annoyed by the news. Her bingomates. The way he refuses her offering of burning tobacco and lemongrass whenever he goes away for a while, unable to really commit to this little, broken family that feels more like home than his own ever did. 

(“aint my place,” he says, and she scoffs. 

“fuck, s'matter wit’cha?” is her counter, the harsh line between her brows now perfectly superimposed on his daughter’s face. “tss. ain't yer place, eh. are you tryna piss me off? fuck, you make me mad—”)

He sees that spitting anger in you. Generational, he knows. The same inherited attitude his daughter will inevitably have. The one that singles him out as an outlier. Outnumbered. Three, now, to one—

There's got to be a reason why his chest bubbles, innervated by the thought of a Sunday dinner when she's old enough to watch her grandma make intricate bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and pins with thread and glass beads as you, her mother, cuss at the stove that doesn't burn as hot as it used to, flipping over golden dough in a sizzling pan. 

Orange juice in old cups your grandma kept since the nineties. Something soft playing on the radio. The peeling, waterlogged wallpaper flakes off the wall when you slam the pan down too hard. The way the spill of the sun through the rusting window rents the room in half. Pale yellow and oak. Little orange blossoms in soft pink above the speckled granite countertops. Everything awash in a gossamer of sleepy-eyed affection. 

Just like it is now. But—

He looks down at her, head full of lead. Cotton. 

Complete, maybe. 

“Don't know how to be a dad,” he confesses to you, and thinks of how much easier it is to slam a sledgehammer into a metal door than it is to peel back the veneer sometimes. “Don't want to mess up.” 

“You'll be fine.” 

The crinkle of the plastic mattress, the scratch of the sheets sliding across the bed is louder now than it was before. He cuts the gentle sounds with an abrading hum that clicks off his teeth. 

“Get some sleep,” he says again instead of the awful truth that buoys in his throat. Things like you don't know and I tricked you this whole time into thinking I'm a good man and look what you’ve let me do to you. “You need it.” 

Another noise. In his periphery, he watches you lean back against the upright pillows, lips parted on a soft sigh. He feels—

Small, then. An oxymoron considering he has to duck his head to get in and out of the room, towering over most he meets daily. But the inadequacies gut him. Vivisect him. He should be more comforting to you, he knows. This whole thing has been difficult. Tiresome. Cut into and having the life you grew inside of you cut out—

“Did good,” he rasps, still staring down at her even as he pulls the chair as close to your bed as he can get. “With her.” 

You snort. It's inelegant. Ugly. Brittle, like you're holding back tears. 

When he glances up, he finds that you are. “You're strong,” he adds, and knows he should have started with this first. “Doin’ this all on your own.” 

“I had help.”

It's awkward trying to adjust himself in the seat with his daughter perched in his arms, but he finds a way. Settled, then, with her still sleeping away, he lifts his hand from her back, keeping her cradled in his arm with the other, and reaches for you. 

The starchy sheets catch on the bramble of hair on his knuckles, the back of his hand, and the static jolts tickle against the rough scar tissue thickened over his knuckles, some still fresh, scabbed from the latest mission he'd been deployed to. You watch him, misty-eyed and tremulous, as he draws nearer, eyes flickering like a pendulum between the bundle nestled on the thick of his arm, to him, watching you back. Greedily taking in every spasm, every blink. 

Something inside of him cracks. Softens. He thinks, breathless, that you've never been as beautiful to him as you are right now. Bubbles of snot in your nose. Eyes reddened, dropping from exhaustion. A dizzying mess. The sort that speaks of tireless work, of physicality. Muted pain brimming in the backs of your eyes when you pull on your stitches. 

“Got a pretty wife,” he says, and it's not enough. He knows it isn't. Looks away before the fracture lilt to his tone breaks him in two. “And—” it's hard to say. He forces himself to. “And a beautiful daughter.” 

The tears stream down your face at this quiet, clumsy admission. 

“Don't—” you sniffle, hoarse. “Or I'll tear my stitches.”

“M’not doin' anythin’, love.” 

“Fuck you, John—”

He leans back in his chair with a hum, eyes slipping shut. A brief respite amid the panic still clinging tight to his ribcage. “Love you too.” 

It's quiet. Nothing but the soft drag of each breath his daughter takes, the tremulous sniffle you give as you try to dam the tears sliding down your cheeks. His heart hammering in his ears. He commits it all to memory. Glueing it to the fibrils of mind where it'll stay, embedded in tissue, for as long as he is of sound mind. 

Much like the grainy, black-and-white ultrasounds stuffed in his breast pocket. Tucked inside the drawer of his desk where he keeps the pictures of you. Keepsakes he's unnecessarily possessive over, elbowing the rowdier men who try to needle him for sparse information on the little wife he hides at home and the baby they'll never meet. Something just for him. Unshareable to the rest of the world because they don't deserve you. 

The feathered snores tell him you're finally asleep, and he thinks about resting for a moment as well—the bone-deep exhaustion he feels jetting from Iceland to home, to the hospital catches up to him with a vicious kick to temples—but the weight in his arm keeps him awake. Hyperviligent. 

There's this urge clawing at him, making ruins of his chest, and he answers its worried insistence by opening his eyes just a sliver to stare down at the little bundle in his arms only to find she's staring back at him. Eyes wide. Comically too big for her chubby face. 

She has your complexion, but his dark curls. Her eyes, though, are the perfect equilibrium between pools of sapphire, burnt blue, marbled with the dark gleam, that vibrant shade of yours that he's so fond of, the one that's often accompanied by a smart-ass remark. Seeing it gaze up at him with such incipient adoration knocks the air from his lungs. Has his heart shuddering in the brackets of his chest. 

It's love, he thinks first. Instantaneous. Apodictic. And then, cold, callous—

Chemical. 

Just to hurt himself, maybe. Just to let it cut deep. Scar. Because as he stares down at her, he knows it doesn't matter. No amount of hatred, of anger, will ever rip her away from him. His daughter. His family. His.

Like her mother. The root of it all. The catalyst. The start. 

Shackled to this gaping chasm that devours endlessly, never satiated. Always starving. 

Needy. Full of greed. 

Because even now he covets. Craves. Muses to himself about how he can convince you to have another the moment the opportunity arises and you're healed. Whole. Aching for it. 

He wasn't joking when he said he wanted a football team. 

But for now—

The soft sighs you make in your sleep, ones that almost sound like his name, and the comforting weight of his daughter in his arms are enough to make the beast inside purr. Preening under its own conquest, its own victory of successfully turning your body into a home he can rest his weary head on. Sacrosanct. 

He looks at her, then, and feels the dread ease into pride. Into elation. An emotion he knows should have come first, but it's here now, and that's all that really matters.

“Gonna be trouble,” he grouses, watching her pink mouth gape wide, blood-red maw grinning up at him in delirious glee only babies can imbue. Unhindered by the ruination of the world around them. Unfettered. 

Something he couldn't protect you from, but knows you're both on the same wavelength when it comes to her. At all costs, you'd said, hand against the burgeoning swell. And he kissed you until he couldn't feel his lips anymore. Until all he tasted, all he knew, was the taste of you.

“Of the best kind, though, mm?” 

In response, she coos. And he hews the sound into his chest where it sits beside the brand of when you first said, i love you, too, John. 

So, he relaxes. Whispers soft, conspiratorily. "Think you might need'a brother, mm? What'd you say about that?"

And she giggles.

[bucks-babe]

See What I See

Pairing: Husband!Dilf!Bucky x Wife!Milf! f reader

Summary: You husband shows you how much he loves your postpartum body

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Slight angst (Petal is insecure about her body after birth), postpartum sex, fluffy smut, safe sex (for once), body worship, they are in love, stretch marks, weight gain, struggles with weight loss, lactation kink?, husband kink?, lube, fingering f!rec, p in v, oral f!rec, praise kink, talk about sexual dysfunction, struggling to orgasm, sex toy (vibrator), Bucky is the perfect man, safe to say that he is officially a Dilf, mentions of masturbation, mentions of their daughter, small mention of a hypothetical fire and burns (like one line)

A/N: Part 2 of Let Me Be of Service but can be read alone. Don't know how good this will be but here it is. Thanks to my girl, @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own

You know that Bucky is getting antsy; he’ll never say it, but he misses your body, craves the warmth of you engulfing him in your tight heat. Even more than that, he misses holding you, having you sit in his lap, his arms wrapped around you, every part of your body pressed against his, your nightly cuddles, all of it.

He knows that your body has gone through a lot, but he needs to be close to you again, sex or not, he just wants to hold you. Of course, he’ll never say anything; he doesn’t want to pressure you into having sex with him. He’s been patiently waiting to make love to you for eleven weeks. Recently, he and his right hand have been best friends.

Tonight is the first night that he’s able to take you on a date. It’s not a very lavish date - takeout and a movie, but you didn’t want to leave the house, too much packing with your padded bra that you would have to change, and the thought of leaking through your dress was too much to handle. 

The date was perfect, finally able to feel like yourself again; you weren’t mom and dad, but Duckie and Petal. It’s not like you don’t want to have sex with your husband, quite the opposite, but between little Bug and your hormones you’ve been struggling. On top of that, the insecurities about your body have been running rampant in your mind.

Your breasts aren’t as perky, stomach softer than it's ever been, raised stretch marks cover your stomach, breasts, and thighs, cellulite dimpling the fat on your ass and thighs. Your body isn’t the same as it was before. You knew that it wasn’t going to be the same, but you didn’t expect such a drastic change. Other women seem to be able to lose their pregnancy weight in weeks, but you’ve somehow gained weight. Maybe it was because Bucky made sure that you were eating, saying that you needed your nutrients to feed Bug, but it didn’t help your confidence either way.

But by the end of the night you weren’t thinking about that, you were thinking about how sexy your man looked in his blue button up, hair perfectly styled, your favorite scent on his skin - you wanted him. It started slowly, gently straddling his lap.

“Petal, what are you doing?” He wasn’t going to complain about your position, warm palms already tracing the exposed flesh of your thighs.

“You just look so good, Duckie. Could eat you right up.” You place your hands on his shoulders, lightly grinding your pantie clad core against his already hard bulge. The lopsided smirk on his face makes your cunt pulse with need. “S’been too long.”

“I’ll wait forever and a day for you, Petal.” His right hand cups your chin, leading your lips to his. Your shared moans mix together, only sharing pecks for too long, never sharing deep, languid kisses like you used to. He flicks his tongue on your lower lip and without hesitation you open up.

The kiss doesn’t speed up. Bucky has waited too long to rush this moment. His left hand moves to your hip, encouraging you to grind against him. At the first motion, Bucky breaks the kiss, tipping his head back, looking at you with half lidded eyes, pupils blown and a dopey smile on his face. “Petal, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Bucky catches the way your demeanor shifts, almost cringing away from his praise. “I mean it. You’re so fucking perfect.” The movement of your hips stop completely and you try to leave his lap but Bucky only pulls you closer.

“Duckie, I don’t look the same as I used to. I’m scared you won’t find me attractive anymore.” The words come out so easily. It’s your Bucky; you could tell him anything.

“Ah, ah, Petal, I will not tolerate you talking about my wife like that, you hear me? This perfect body, all those changes that you think ruin you? Fuck, they make me fall harder for you if that’s even possible. You gave me my daughter; how could I think that you are less than the goddess you are?” 

“Duckie, I..” He cuts you off, his eyes full of sorrow for not making you see how wonderful you are sooner.

“Shh, let me show you. Let me show you what you do to me.” You nod, trusting him to bring you to the surface. He starts with feather light kisses down your neck, tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat starting to form. “Skin so soft, tastes so good.”

Easing one of the straps from your sundress down your shoulder, he trails his lips all the way down your arm, eyes meeting yours as he gets lower. He does the same on the other side, only pressing extra kisses to your ring. You can feel his grin against your skin as he sucks on your collarbones.

Your breath hitches as he lowers the fabric, exposing your sensitive breasts to him, cupping one in each hand. “Perfect fucking tits. So beautiful, feeding our baby, keeping her strong and healthy. You do that, Petal, your body does that for her.” A lump begins to form in your throat, his gentle touches and praises almost too much and he isn’t even inside you yet.

As his thumbs graze your nipples, milk leaks out. “Oh my god, Duckie, I’m so sorry.” Before you can move to clean them up, Bucky latches on, suckling, his eyes locking onto yours. A heady moan leaves your lips; breastfeeding wasn’t something that was pleasurable. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but the sight of Bucky latched on is erotic, your husband worshiping your breasts has your pussy clenching around nothing.

A distinct pop sounds out as he pulls off of your nipple, only to move on to the other. You can’t control the swirl of your hips against his crotch or the continuous leaking of your breasts. “Almost as good as your pussy, but nothing can beat the taste of my sweet girl. C’mon, let me take you to bed.”

He picks you up with ease, your naked breasts rubbing against his shirt, soaking the front of it. In the room, he sets you down, pulling off the rest of your dress, letting it pool at your feet, taking your hand as you step out. You whimper at the sight of his hand rubbing his bulge. “Duckie, please, need you.” 

“In time, sweetheart. I’m not done with your body just yet.” With one hand on your waist and one on your head, he lowers you to the bed, only your panties remaining. “Don’t know how you’re so goddamn gorgeous.” You feel your body go lax as he crawls over you, lips tracing every mark on your stomach, moaning at the soft skin there.

“Love these stretch marks. Makes me so hard knowing that my baby did this to you. My baby gave you these pretty stripes.” Your legs fall open on their own accord, desperate for his mouth or fingers to touch your pussy. But he only does the same thing to the stretch marks on your thighs, sucking bruises the closer he gets to your cunt, and you’re sure that you’re dripping.

“Duckie, please I need you to touch my pussy. You make me feel so good, s’been so long.” Bucky groans at the breathy moans leaving your perfect lips. He keeps his eyes on yours as he eases your underwear down your legs and throws them across the room.

Still holding eye contact, Bucky brings his middle finger to your core. To both of your surprise, you aren’t wet - at all. Mentally you were so turned on but physically your body wasn’t. “I don’t, Duckie, it’s not, you didn’t.” You don’t know what you were trying to say, embarrassment flooding your stomach. 

“I know, Petal, s’not your fault. It happens, nothing to be embarrassed about.” The love and safety in his eyes relax you. Bucky leans down, tongue running through your slit, pulling back just to spit on your clit. “Still the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Only pussy I want to see for the rest of my life.” Laying flat on the bed, Bucky lifts your thighs on his shoulder and dives back in, purposefully getting his spit all over your cunt, acting as lube for his motions.

Bucky’s always known exactly how to fuck you, how to lick you, to make you cum, but the first suck has your body jerking, a hiss escaping you. “Duckie, just lick, please, too sensitive.” He doesn’t pull away from your center but changes from sucking to licking. Your hand drops down to thread through his hair. “Just like that, baby. Love your tongue on me.”

You see his hips grind down on the bed, the vibrations of his moan almost send you over the edge. “Give me your fingers, please.” Bucky has to use all the restraint in his body not to cum on the bed; it’s been too long since he’s heard your pretty moans. His middle finger teases your entrance, slowly sliding in, groaning at the tightness around his finger. 

“Oh, shit, m’gonna cum, don’t stop, just like that.” Your hips grind against his face, chasing more of him, pussy pulsing around his digit. He keeps the same pace, not changing the rhythm at all, but your orgasm is just out of reach. Vibrations of his encouragement don’t do anything and your orgasm slowly fades away.

Tapping on his head, Bucky pulls away, clearly confused as to why you wanted him to stop. “Can’t cum, Duck.”

“Why’d you stop me? You know I’ll go until you soak my face, Petal.”

“Because I could feel it, that I wasn’t going to cum.” You run your hands down your face, groaning in frustration. “I’m sorry, I ruined the moment. If you want I can suck you off.” Bucky only raises an eyebrow, clearly offended. “Duckie, I haven’t done anything for you in almost three months. I can’t leave you high and dry.” 

“Get over here.” He swifty pulls you onto his lap, grabbing both sides of your face. “First of all, you can never ruin the moment. When you were still pregnant you accidentally pissed on me and I still finished fucking you. You think that some trouble cumming is going to ruin the moment?” You suck your teeth at his pointed look but don’t interrupt him.

“Second of all, and this one is very important. You will never and I mean never do anything that you do not want to do. I don’t give a shit if we haven’t had sex in three years; I will not make you feel like you have to please me.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, but I don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t cum. Don’t want you to think it’s your fault. I want to feel you inside me, but what if I can’t cum? What if it isn’t good for you? What if I’m loose and it's not the same?” Bucky rubs his thumbs through your tears before they fall down your face.

“Petal, my perfect wife,” he presses soft kisses to both your eyes, “all I want is to make you feel good, show you how much I love your body.” Gently, he lays down, pulling you on top of him again. “Of course it’s going to be different. You gave birth, sweetheart, but that doesn’t mean that your little pussy isn’t going to make me bust.” You swallow, trying not to cry again. “Come here.”

He quickly pulls his shirt off and tosses it across the room, pulling you down, feeling your naked chest against his, a few droplets of milk leaking out. You bury your head in his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. Tracing his hands up and down your back, you feel your body go lax, missing being so close to your husband. “My pretty Petal, your little pussy was squeezing my finger so damn tight that I don’t know if she can still take my cock.”

You perk up at his words. “Really?” Bucky giggles at how easy it was to make you feel better. It wasn’t a lie either, after so long of not stretching around his cock your pussy forgot how to welcome him. “Can we, can we try again?” Grinning at your question, Bucky reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom, lube, and your favorite vibrator. “Duckie, when did you buy condoms?”

A blush creeps up his cheeks. “When you got cleared for sex.” At the look on your face he quickly explains himself. “Not that I was expecting anything. I just wanted to be prepared, you know, since you’re extra fertile after giving birth. And I wouldn’t complain about having another but I figured you would want to wait a bit, because we just had little Bug but-” You cut him off with a deep kiss, his hands immediately caressing your body.

“I love you, you’re the perfect husband, you know that?” 

“Well, you married me for a reason.” You just shook your head at him in disbelief, grinding your hips against his, drawing a groan from him.

“I want you inside of me, Duckie. Can I please have your cock.” Bucky groans, throwing his head back. Flipping you both over and standing up, Bucky takes off the rest of his clothes. “Shit, I almost forgot how beautiful you are, Duckie.”

Climbing back on top of you, he smirks at you. “I would never forget how gorgeous you are, and I’ll be damned if I let you forget either.” You almost drool at the sight of your sculpted husband rolling the condom down his thick cock. “Damn, Petal, I can’t remember the last time we used one of these. Could barely remember how to put it on, maybe I should have asked for help.”

“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.” No matter where you are, Bucky always has to make a joke. Half of the reason is because he loves to see you smile, but the other half is because you make him comfortable enough to leave all inhibitions at the door.

His warm hands gently spread your legs, allowing him to settle in between. “Holy fuck. I’m not gonna fucking last, I can guarentee it. Look at you, all spread out for me, all your curves - pulchritudinous.”

The clenching of your cunt is ignored at his last word. “What the fuck did you just say? Pulchritudinous? Really?” Bucky’s eyes snap back to yours, previously latched onto your body, a huge smile gracing his features, the cutest giggle leaving him, eyes bright and shining.

“Sorry, Petal, pussy got me feeling philosophical.” Your mouth falls open and you blink at him - once, twice, before bursting out in laughter.

“There is something wrong with you.”

“But you love it.”

“I do, but are you going to fuck me or not?”

“No, Petal, I’m going to make love to you.”

He grabs the lube, letting a glob fall onto your cunt before rubbing it in, cooing at the hiss you let out from the coldness. “Are you ready, sweet girl?” Your breathy yes has Bucky lining his tip up. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?” You nod, reaching out to grab his hands.

Callused fingers rub the back of your hands, soothing your nerves. Somewhere along that way, you’ve relaxed, mind no longer worried about how you look, not when Bucky is worshiping every inch of you. Easing in, you both gasp, Bucky at how tight and warm you feel, you at the uncomfortable stretch. “Wait, Duckie.” Bucky immediately stops, only his tip inside. 

“You alright, Petal?” You close your eyes, nodding between deep breaths. The rhythmic pulsing of your tight cunt has your husband holding in a groan. His hands run up and down your thighs, resting them over his own, using his position to take in how beautiful you are, soft belly on display, heaving, wet breasts, the most beautiful stretch marks lining your belly and thighs. He catches the bright pink of your vibrator out of the corner of his eye, reaching out to grab it, slowly tracing it on your inner thighs.

“Yeah, just need a minute. Need more lube, please.” You're ready for the chill this time as he adds more lube. “Can you use the vibrator while I relax, please?” It takes every muscle in Bucky’s body to not slam the rest of the way into you, pounding your perfect pussy with your toy on high, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, but he knows you need time.

He starts on the lowest setting, trailing it around your lips, feeling the vibrations on his cock, before gently placing it on your clit. “Oh.” Your little gasp has Bucky leaking precum into the condom. Slowly, you start to roll your hips, taking a little more of his cock each time, chasing the pleasure from the toy.

“That’s it, good girl.” You squeeze the hand that’s still laced with yours, soft moans leaving your lips at his praise. “Take what you need, Petal, I got you.” The ache in your cunt dies down little by little, still trying to accept his cock after months of recovery. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, just as good as I remember. Fuck, maybe even better. You wanna know why, Petal?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, words coming out between breathy groans. “Because this perfect pussy, this perfect body, gave me the most beautiful gift. Can feel you clenching around me, so close to cumming on your husband’s cock.”

You don’t even realize that you’ve taken his entire length inside of you until the warmth of his heavy balls rests against your ass. Clit pulsing under the tiny bullet, ready to let go and give your husband what he wants. “M’gonna cum, oh, please. Baby, I need it, been your good girl. Let me cum.”

Your eyes open, meeting Bucky’s loving gaze. “Always been my good girl, Petal. I’ve got you, let your husband take care of you. Cum for me, soak my cock, m’already so close for you.” It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge, Bucky doing everything in his power to empty your mind, making you only know the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“Fuck, baby.” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence, eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolls over you. Bucky leans down, taking your lips in his before his own release floods into the condom, his groans falling into your mouth. You both stay like that for a while, breathing in each other’s scent, words of praise whispered in your ear.

Eventually, Bucky rolls off, taking off the used condom and tossing it in the trash. “Could’ve given it to me, Duckie, missed the taste of your cum.” You giggle at Bucky’s groan.

“I could get it out from the trash?” He words it like a question, but you know he is 100% serious.

“No, you dirtball.” Bucky laughs before scooping you up into his arms, holding you so close to him that you can feel every breath he takes. 

“Petal, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how beautiful you are. It doesn’t matter if we have another baby, we get old together, you get in a fire and burn 90% of your body.”

You smack his arm at his last point. “Duckie! Don’t say that or it’ll end up happening and I don’t want to go through that.”

“Neither do I, Petal, but I’m letting you know that my cock will always be hard for you, even when I’m 80.”

“You don’t think you’re going to need pills by then?”

“Of course not, not when I have you. It would be impossible for me to not get hard when it comes to you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Hell, I’ll probably still be hard when I’m dead.”

“Duckie!”

He only laughs and somehow pulls you even closer. “I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, Petal. You’re the love of my life and it breaks my heart that you don’t see what I see.”

The mood in the room suddenly changes. “You’re my soulmate, Duckie, and it may take some time, but I think it would be impossible to not feel like I’m the sexiest woman alive when I’m with you.”

“Good, because it’s the truth and I get to have you all to myself.” You fall asleep in his arms feeling much better about your body, already planning on how you’re going to reward him for being the perfect husband. Maybe you’ll wake him up with the sloppiest blowjob. Yeah, he’ll love that.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

After a few weeks, you’re forced to acknowledge you were wrong about Coriolanus.

His mere presence assuages your hurt, and none of his actions bear a hint of impropriety.

He’s simply being a friend, comforting you and supporting you in a time of need.

His visits grow more frequent. 

You’re amazed he even finds time between the University and his apprenticeship with Dr. Gaul. Still, Coryo never misses tea time with you, sometimes even bringing books and sweets. You’re thankful for the time he spends doting on you, even if you hate keeping him from his studies. You know how eager to succeed he’s always been. 

But you can’t deny you missed the feeling of having a brother, of having this person who cares for you, looks out for you and protects you unconditionally. 

And while you’re aware Coriolanus isn’t your actual brother, having him besides you helps alleviate the weight of grief and loneliness. Being with him makes you feel closer to Janus. You’re also solaced by the knowledge it’s what your departed brother would have wanted.

There is one person however who isn’t too keen on the rekindled bond between you and Coriolanus Snow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” William notes, tracing the lines in your palm.

You’re both lying on the couch in the sunroom, your back against William’s chest, fingers interlaced with his. Sunlight spills from the stained glass in the ceiling, painting your fiancé’s brown curls in bronze hues. 

This is a moment of tranquility you’ve longed for, a sliver of calm amidst the storm and chaos wedding planning has turned out to be. You reckoned it’d be easier than it has been. Instead, it seems nothing ever goes right. Between incidents with the cake, your wedding dress somehow being lost by the store, and the venue perpetually being booked…you’ve grown disheartened and exhausted by the entire process.

It’s almost like some higher force is trying to prevent you marrying William. It’s ludicrous, of course. But the ceaseless string of bad luck is beginning to drain your hope that your wedding will happen before the year ends. 

You and William even had to push back the date. There was no choice as hurdles kept emerging.

So you bask in your fiancé’s presence, soaking his warmth and familiar smell, reminding yourself why you’re going through so much trouble. Marrying William is worth it.

“Yeah. He’s my friend,” you state casually. 

“Your friend. Baby…” There’s a brief pause during which William appears deep in thought. When he speaks again, it’s with a softer tone. “At the risk of sounding jealous, the way he’s looking at you…are you sure that he knows that?”

His words make you sit up straight. 

“William,” you admonish, taken aback by his preposterous insinuation. 

Coriolanus’ a gentleman. He hasn’t made any moves towards you and he wouldn’t. Sejanus trusted him and you trust him too.

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs.

“I’m just saying. We’re getting married soon, and everything’s been so…tumultuous. I just want to make sure that you won’t…”

You search his forest gaze. Shock fills you at the doubts you find lurking there.

“That I won’t what?” You give a light punch to his chest. “Get cold feet? William, are you mad?”

His shoulders slump. “I know your parents wish I was from a great house like him.”

William looks away and you put your hands on his face, drawing his focus back to you.

“It doesn’t matter what my parents think. I love you.”

He smiles, that beautiful sunny smile that blows a warm breeze through your chest every time.

He grabs your hands and kisses them.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

“William, you’re good and kind and caring. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” You hold his eyes. “He’s just a friend, I promise you. You…You’re my future.”

William studies you, love and devotion illuminating his features. His lips then collide with yours. He nudges you down on the plush beige upholstery, humming low in his throat.

When his hands find their way below your skirt, you push against his chest.

He immediately stops.

Your hot, rapid exhales mingle as you steady your breath. 

“You know I’d rather we wait for our wedding night,” you mutter apologetically. It’s not the first time things got hot and heavy between you and William and you slowed them down. You know how frustrating it has to be for him and you commend his patience. “ I know it’s old-fashioned but I…”

He quiets you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

“No, it’s okay,” he says, holding hands with you. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I got carried away.” Pink dusts his cheeks as he adds, “You just smell so good and you’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks across your face. “You’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy.”

He tilts his head and laughs. 

“How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you talk to me like that?” He bites his lip, his lids dipping to half-mast. “Can I at least get another kiss?” he whispers suavely.

“Hm, we’ll see about that…” you mumble, closing your own eyes.

“Apologies, hope I’m not  interrupting anything?”

Coriolanus’ sharp inflection shatters the spell, making you leap away from William.

Heat nestles in your cheeks as you rise to your feet, hastily smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. Your fiancé clears his throat and runs a hand through his tousled locks.

“No, we’re…William was leaving,” you stammer, struggling to meet Coriolanus’ stark blue gaze.

William’s brows squeeze together at that. But you shoot him a glare that pulls a deep sigh from him. He nods and pulls you to him one more time. 

He kisses you but you note it lasts much longer than usual, his fingers curling around your waist possessively.

Embarrassment flares inside you that this is happening right in front of your friend.

When he releases you, you’re breathless.

“Coriolanus,” William greets stiffly as he brushes past the blond.

“William,”Coriolanus replies, his tone somehow icier.

Once your fiancé has left, a weary exhale floats from your mouth.

“I don’t understand why you two can’t just get along. You both matter to me.”

Coriolanus smirks. “Oh, princess. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?” you inquire, blinking up at him curiously.

His tight-lipped smile expands as he gauges you. 

“Nothing.”

You scrunch your nose, displeased by his answer. He’s always so cryptic. A chuckle peels from his lips at your sour expression. His knuckles sweep over your cheek.

“There should never be a frown on such a pretty face.” He digs inside his satchel before retrieving a slim, leather-bound book. He places it in your hands as you gape at him, puzzled.

“Here, I brought you this. This will cheer you up.”

You examine the book. Surprise mingles with elation when you notice the words on the cover. The engraved letters spell out a familiar title. It’s one of your favorite books from when you were younger. It bewilders you that he even remembers. As if no time has passed.

“Oh my god! How did you…” An excited squeal leaves you. Then your voice lulls to a whisper. “It’s a first edition, Coryo.”

“It was printed and bound before the war,” he explains. “It wasn’t easy to dig up.”

Your brows rise. “An antique. You shouldn’t have.” You cradle the book against your chest. “You’re too good to me.”

His mouth quirks lopsidedly.

“Anything for you, princess.”

You both sit down for tea, cakes and macaroons. Time flies as you chat about everything and nothing with your friend. As always, you do most of the talking as he dutifully listens, only interjecting to ask you to elaborate on a particular point. 

No matter what you jabber on about, his interest never appears to wane.

You eventually land on the matter of your wedding planning. You share all the troubles you and William have had and Coriolanus hums in response.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He sips from his cup of Earl Grey. “How…unfortunate.” 

He then pauses, seeming to ponder something. “I have a proposition.”

Your brow arches in question.

“Clemmie is throwing a party tonight. Let me take you, get your mind off of all this.”

Your lips part. Clemensia? A party? None of it sounds enticing to you.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off, your eyes finding the floor.

“What better way to cheer you up than a party, princess?” Coriolanus’ voice mellows as he adds, “You can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

Words falter on your tongue as your eyes swell with unshed tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern oozing from his gentle tone.

You shake your head.

“You’re crying,” he insists, reaching over the table to lift your chin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says sternly. “Talk to me.”

His unwavering  inflection nudges you to admit, “I’m just scared.”

“What are you scared of, princess?”

You suck in a shaky breath.

“Every part of this house, every nook and cranny carries a memory I have with Janus.” You glance about the sunroom. Here alone you can count so many hiding spots from games you and your brother played when you were kids. “It’s easy, keeping him close here. It’s just that…”

“You’re scared to move on,” Coriolanus finishes for you. His thumb glides over your cheek, collecting a tear you didn’t realize had spilled over. “But you have to.”

“Sejanus wouldn’t want you to wilt away in this house like one of your roses.”

You mull over his words. You suppose he’s right but you’re still not convinced. Parties like the kind Clemensia is fond of hosting aren’t exactly your scene. 

A lame excuse flows from your lips.

“I don’t even know what to wear.”

“Then I’ll choose for you,” he replies without hesitation.

“What?”

“Let’s go to your room.”

Before you can protest, he seizes your hand and drags you upstairs.

“Wait, Coryo…”

He ignores you, making his way to your room with brisk strides you can barely maintain pace with. Once he’s there, he rummages through your closet. You let him do it, half-skeptical, half-jaded. Most of these garments weren’t picked by you anyway, but by your mother based on whatever fashion trend raged in the Capitol at the time. And those trends change every other season. You since long gave up on trying to keep abreast of them.

“Hm, this one is perfect,” he announces, drawing a red number from the closet.

You gape at the dress he chose. It’s a slip satin dress the color of blood. The waist is cinched with a thin belt and the lace sleeves, adorned with embroidered flowers, flow elegantly.

It’s beautiful, radiating a timeless elegance…but the neckline is low, displaying more cleavage than you’re used to. 

Your cheeks warm. “Are you sure?”

“Just trust me. Try it.”

Your eyes bulge but you relent, something about his tone curbing your impulse to argue. “Okay,” you quaver.

Trying not to squirm beneath his intense stare, you grab the dress from him and slip behind the wooden divider screen.

Chewing on your lip, you peek above the folding screen.

“Maybe you could…get out while I change?” you suggest while fumbling with the lace strings of your day dress.

Coriolanus casually sits on your bed, his crimson coat pooling around him. He leans back and spreads his large hands over your bed sheets. A small smile dances along his pink lips.

“I won’t look, I promise. Don’t you trust me, princess?”

“I do but…”

“But what?” he challenges, cocking his head in question.

Stumped, you come up short of a decent answer. “Nothing,” you mumble.

You shed your clothes quickly to try on the red dress. The whole time, you can feel the weight of Coriolanus’ unnerving scrutiny on the other side of the wooden screen.

He gives you a sluggish onceover when you step out from behind the screen. Your skin prickles as you shake.

“Hm nice, twirl for me.”

His blue eyes sparkle when you do as he says. He gets to his feet. He slowly strolls towards you.

Once he’s in front of you, he also arranges a few wisps of your hair in a way that he likes.

“Gorgeous,” he lauds when he’s done. 

He tilts your chin up, his gaze corralling yours.

“See? All you have to do is to trust me, princess.” His deep voice dips to dulcet tones. “Just trust me and, I promise you, everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

“You came,” Coriolanus points out, that signature smirk of his adorning his lips.

“I promised I would,” you defend.

He snorts. “I’m glad. Saves me the trouble of having to drag you here myself, princess.”

Nervous laughter peals from your lips at his strange joke and the intent way his eyes rest on you. For a while, he doesn’t say anything, drinking in the sight of you in the crimson dress. The very same one he picked himself.

He then loops your arm around his, bending near your ear to whisper,

“Let's re-introduce you to everyone.”

You look around yourself, curious as you’ve never been to Clemensia’s house. The atmosphere is more intimate than you expected. The only source of dim light in the Dovecote’s sumptuous living room emanates from candelabras scattered all about, the wobbly candlelight casting twisting shadows over the damask walls. The crackle of the logs burning in the gigantic fireplace mingles with the soft piano tune filling the living room. 

“Coriolanus, did you bring a ghost to my party?” Clemensia jests when she sees you. Her expression then turns serious as she studies you. To your utter surprise, she wraps her arms around you and hugs you. You freeze, too stunned to return the gesture. The two of you were never close, the opposite in fact. It all stemmed from the way she and her friends ostracized you and your brother in school. Maybe it’s all water under the bridge now that you’re older. “Oh, you poor thing,” she laments. “I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

You nod stiffly. “O-Okay.”

Coriolanus hardly conceals his amusement at the interaction, mirth swaying in his cobalt orbs. 

He and Clemensia keep introducing you to people. Some you recognize; some you don’t. 

It makes you realize how much you missed. 

After a while, faces blend into each other. You end up nodding and smiling to most of the small talk, your attention span dwindling by the minute.

Eventually, you decide to retreat to the bar to take a break. The barkeep nudges a drink your way and you thank him quietly. You swirl it in your hand, your thoughts drifting. Maybe this is what a return to normalcy must feel like. Slightly strange and overwhelming.

You gasp as Coriolanus appears at your side. “Are you alright, princess? Too much?”

Your startled reaction draws a chuckle from him.

A slow exhale drops from your chest. 

“A little,” you confess. “But…I’m glad you took me. A change of scenery is nice.”

It occurs to you that you haven’t had time to wallow in your sadness, too caught in conversation with other people. However frivolous the topics, it did keep your mind off of things. No thoughts of dead brothers have crossed your mind tonight.

It might not be much but it’s a start, you suppose.

Coriolanus’ brow curves teasingly. “See? This is why you should trust me.”

“Don’t push it, Snow. You’re on thin ice.”

A laugh bursts from his chest but, as he peers down at your drink, all humor vanishes from his face. He swipes it from you and sniffs it. 

“Hm, what’s wrong?”

A frown puckers his forehead. 

“Who served you this drink?” he rumbles.

You shrug. “I don’t know. It was just…brought to me.”

“There’s something in it.”

“What?” Ice spills in your veins. “Oh my god.”

Your mind whirls as you peek at your surroundings, paranoia creeping in. You wonder who could have done this and why. Just to mess with you? Or maybe even worse…

Your gut sinks. Thank god Coryo put a stop to whatever awful thing could have happened to you.

He puts his hand on your arm reassuringly. “I’ll bring you a clean one.”

“T-Thanks,” you stutter. “Just nothing with alcohol in it, please.”

“Of course.”

He returns with a brand new drink in a jiffy. 

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you beam before taking a sip. You were starting to get a little parched.

“Always, princess.” He grins at you while you take another sip.

A wave of queasiness suddenly hits you. 

The room starts to spin around you, blurring into crooked shapes and colors. You try to stand but your knees buckle instantly.

If it weren’t for Coriolanus swiftly catching you you’d be a heap on the floor.

“Coryo…I’m not feeling so good,” you slur, struggling to speak. Cotton seems to fill your mouth, the mere act of forming words demanding great effort.

“It’s okay, lean on me,” he says, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Head…heavy.”

“You’re alright. Just hold on to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

In a daze, you stagger along as he escorts you through a series of hallways and up a flight of stairs. You grow so weak that you slump against him. With ease, Coriolanus hoists you in his arms, carrying you bridal style the rest of the way.

You fall onto something heavenly soft that sinks under your weight. Like fluffy clouds. 

Your thoughts collapse, muddy and haphazard as you blink up at the ceiling. An antique chandelier hangs from it.

“You just need a little bit of rest.”

Coriolanus’s voice is warped, disembodied almost.

“Rest…” you echo.

But as soon as your eyes begin to close, the feeling of your dress hiking upwards tugs you back to consciousness. 

Befuddled, you look down. You’re welcomed by the sight of Coriolanus wedged between your parted legs, hands clasped around your thighs. His waistcoat and white blouse are gone, exposing his pale, broad chest. 

“Coryo, what is happening-”

His soft lips cover yours, stifling your protests. His tall frame pins yours to the bed. He purrs against your lips, framing your jaw when you feebly pivot your head to the side. 

When his lips free yours, your mouth still tingles with the forcefulness of his bruising kiss. 

He returns to the space between your thighs. 

You lie back, your bones like jelly, as you feel the delicate material of your panties sliding down your legs. 

Your brows twitch. “Coryo…”

His blue eyes glow strangely in the darkness. A chill slithers through your core. 

“Shh, don’t worry about it, princess, just sleep.”

You want to move. You feel you have to. But you can’t. 

“I…”

The syllable dies in a sharp gasp as Coriolanus’ cool tongue drags down your slit. Long fingers spreading you open, he traces wet circles around your bundle of nerves. He rasps against your center and the vibrations rock through your core. Your breath hitches. Your chest tightens. Heat builds in your stomach as he makes you dangle off the cliff of pleasure. He soon adds a finger and you cry out.

Coriolanus pumps in and out of you, gauging your expression as he grazes a particular spot that has your toes flexing. You writhe over the sheets, eyes blindly rising to the ceiling. 

You clench around his finger, your cunt clinging to him reflexively.

He sinks a second digit inside you and you whine, back arching at the abrupt stretch.

Short, chaotic breaths rush through your lungs as he works you open. His slow, meticulous drags have your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Your legs quake as the coils in your belly grow unbearably tight and hot.

He stops as you’re on the cusp of your undoing. Your boneless frame sags onto the sheets.

He leans back and you hear the rustle of his pants coming undone. You get a faint sense of wrong trying to pierce through the haziness, but you can’t grasp at it.

Still, your fingers stretch towards the edge of the bed, your body rolling to the side. The meek attempt is interrupted as Coriolanus yanks you back onto the sheets, snatching your wrists and pinning them above your head. His frame drapes over yours. The scent of roses coats your senses.

“We’re not done, princess,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your face.

A painful pressure starts prodding your entrance. He grunts, hovering above you as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles. 

You feel as if you’ll tear as more of him buries inside you. Every second is agony, your core burning at the blunt intrusion.

A sigh of pleasure floats from his mouth when he reaches the hilt of you. He stays there a while, seeming to bask in the feeling of you around him. 

When he starts to move, your eyes flutter open. He sets a steady pace right away, thrusting inside you as if his life depended on it. Wordless screams rip from your throat. He releases your wrists, his long fingers latching onto your waist instead. 

Each of his slow, deep thrusts sparks warm tingles through your body.

Sweat collects between his brows as he grunts in pleasure.

“I knew you’d feel just perfect around me,” he rasps, delighted. 

His cadence quickens, his hand digging bruising grooves over your hip. Choked moans spill from your throat. His other hand crawls beneath the thin satin of your dress, fondling your breast and flicking your pebbled nipple. His hands feel everywhere at once and that sense of wrong rolls over you again.

“Ever since I saw you in this dress, I’ve been dying to fuck you in it,” he confesses, lust bleeding in his fevered tone. 

The mattress squeaks as he relentlessly rams into you.

A uniquely sharp thrust has your slick walls tighten around him. His cock stirs, a throaty moan pouring from his chest.

The repeated friction against your soft spots has you seeing stars.

A feral glint bounces in his blue eyes as he admires your panting form, lost in the throes of pleasure. Strangled shouts escape you as another wave of pleasure crashes over your frame.

His pace slows, sloppier than before as his cock twitches between your walls. His eyes roll back as he sighs, tension draining from his muscular frame. Hot ropes spill inside you, overflowing until you feel the warmth dripping along your thighs.

Your mouth wobbles, silent tears streaming down your face.

Coriolanus cradles your face, kissing away each of your tears with tender brushes of his lips.

“Shh, don’t cry,’ he mumbles. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.” His cock stiffens inside you once more. He lifts you and snaps his hips viciously into yours, drawing a broken whimper as he bottoms out. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips when he begins to move inside you. Helplessly, you lie back as he takes you again.

“I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go.”

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (i)

⛔️ TW: mention of anorexia and drugging❗️

♡ Venus Square Mars may attract obsessive people. In particular, people who obsess over their looks or fetishize them in some way. Brooke Shields had a whole nation obsessed with her at the mere age of 12. Eugenia Cooney has infamously attracted hoards of anorexia fetishists with her content. People with this placement may have a higher risk of drastic weight loss or gain.

♡ Either I meet too many Capricorn Suns by coincidence or it's a rather common placement. One reasoning could be that April is an ideal month for marriage in many places, especially ones where it gets unbearably hot in June. Spring adds to April's allure. Traditional couples often conceive right after tying the knot, making the pregnancy due in Capricorn season.

♡ Lilith is associated with sexuality but people focus too much ONLY on that facet of it. Lilith is associated with many other things like power, revenge and how one becomes a social pariah.

♡ Planets at 0° may symbolize struggle. Lana Del Rey has Sun at 0°. The Sun represents our ego. She had many controversies in 2020 including the mesh mask and her Instagram rant undermining POC artists. Even after criticism, instead of apologizing, she remained defensive. I believe that planets at 0° provide a lot of room for growth if the individual is genuinely interested in self-improvement.

♡ Aries Moon (ruled by Mars) and Scorpio Moon (ruled by Pluto, traditionally by Mars) despite being similar are perceived quite differently by people. The sign of Aries gives child-like quality to the native. They come off as cute and their sarcastic remarks are perceived as good humor. E.g. Rihanna roasting Helena Bonham Carter's sense of fashion. Meanwhile, one eyeroll from a Scorpio Moon, and they may come off as hateful and jealous. My advice to Scorpio Moons who want to be in the public eye, please never put on the mean girl persona. Tap into your kind side, it'll be received in a positive way and you'll attract genuine support.

♡ Venus-Mars aspects symbolize beauty; the difference may lie in how people perceive it. Venus Trine Mars are often called cute. People with this aspect are well-liked and have a good reputation. These are the people who may never be cancelled due to the halo effect they have. No matter how massively popular they are, people won't be digging up dirt on them, which is also why very little is known about these people's personal lives. These people often become a household name due to that one iconic thing they did, even if they decide to adapt a lowkey presence afterwards. Let me emphasize this with an extensive list of examples:

✧ Nina Dobrev (The Vampire Diaries), Zayn, Leighton Meester (Gossip Girl), Adele, Kit Harington (Game of Thrones), Sabrina Carpenter, Tobey Maguire (Spider-Man), Kate Middleton, Mandy Moore (A Walk to Remember), Jackie Chan, Jenna Fischer (The Office), Ana de Armas, Josh Hutcherson (The Hunger Games), Constance Wu (Crazy Rich Asians), Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) and Alan Rickman (Harry Potter) have this aspect.

✧ Taeyang being the only member of former K-pop group BIGBANG who's had no controversies (also managed to keep his relationship hidden for a long time before revealing it with a wedding announcement), Khloé Kardashian being the least disliked Kardashian/Jenner sister, Cardi B admitting to drugging and robbing men, starring in Hustlers that glamorized it, hitting her career peak with WAP the very next year really drives the point home.

✧ I've also noticed this aspect in almost all Bollywood IT girls of their time: Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, Anushka Sharma, Ayesha Takia, Dia Mirza, Divya Bharti, Parveen Babi - all loved by the general public despite the media scrutiny and misogyny that prevails within the industry.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Losing It

steddie, omegaverse, virginity kink, loss of virginity, mdni 🔞

Steve has always been good, and good omegas kept their legs closed. His mother loved to say, “No one buys the cow when they can get the milk for free.”

Which, gross. He isn’t a cow, and any milk he has will be for his pups, thank you very much. But his mom clearly knows what she’s talking about—former stewardess who landed a hotshot business man at 21 and got him to build her a house just close enough to her dirt poor parents to rub it in. Who got pregnant a year later, stopping after Steve because, “Pregnancy is miserable, Steven. I could barely keep anything down with you! I lost weight and still got stuck with stretch marks!”

She only started saying that after he presented, while the cow thing started much earlier. Mostly about his father’s secretaries. And anyone in short skirts.

But his mother always would say, “You’re such a good omega, Stevie. So sweet and pure. You’re going to make an alpha very happy someday. Just make sure you get what you deserve first.”

Robin says his mom gave him a complex, fucked him up. “Seriously, Steve, it’s like a fetish. You get off on blue-balling your dates,” she says one night while Steve is shelving new releases.

“I do not! I just wanna make sure I find the right alpha.”

“You thought I might be-”

“Shut up!”

Neither of them needs to think any more about his drunken confession when they first became friends. How he tried to kiss her before she admitted to only liking girls and awkwardly screeching that he had nice tits but she was much more interested in playing with Tammy Thompson’s boobies.

“Besides, you’re a big ol’ virgin, too!”

“Yeah, but not because I wanna be! I’m a virgin in a loser way; you’re a virgin in a porno way!”

Steve’s lower lips trembles, his shoulders hunch, and in moments Robin is at his side.

“I’m sorry, that was bitchy!”

“No, you’re right! I’m a prude and a tease and I’m—Rob, I’m really fucked up.”

They talk it out the rest of their shift, and Steve makes up his mind to find a decent alpha and get it over with, rip off the bandaid so he doesn’t have some virgin/whore complex when he finally gets married.

But finding a decent alpha is *hard* and he goes on too many first dates and zero second dates. He’s about ready to give up, to focus on re-applying to colleges instead, when it finally happens.

He’s running late, picking up Dustin as a favor to Mrs. Henderson, forgetting he needed gas until he’s on the way.

It’s dark, and he pulls into the near empty parking lot, spotting Dustin leaned against a shitty white van. Steve parks and rushes out, apologizing as he pulls Dustin to him, crushing him to his chest.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Dustin huffs, pushing him back. “Eddie waited with me.”

“Figured we’d give you another ten minutes before I drove him home myself,” Eddie Munson says with a smile, blowing out cigarette smoke. “You okay, Harrington?”

“Yeah. Yes. Thank you,” he starts, blushing, not sure why he suddenly feels warm. “For waiting with Dustin, I mean.”

Eddie drops his cigarette, crushes it with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, of course. You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Steve, you’re being weird.”

“No, I’m not! Get in the car, Dustin, your mom is waiting. See you around, Eddie?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

Steve considers showing up early next week when he picks Dustin up from Hellfire. Or hanging around the record store in hopes Eddie comes in. But in the end he decides that he’s better off being straightforward and asking for what he wants. It’s not like an alpha would say no. Not to what Steve is offering. Not when he smelled interest and fear coming off Eddie the night before.

And with how his spicy scent made Steve’s mouth water… He thinks he’ll have fixed his little problem soon.

So he gets dressed as carefully as possible, and drives to Eddie’s.

He knocks, pleased when Eddie is the one to answer and not his uncle, the alpha blinking against the daylight. “Um, hey, Steve, what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding a little bit sleepy.

“Can I come in?” Steve blurts, nervous, maybe even a little bit terrified.

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie steps aside, bowing as Steve walks past him, and it might just be what he’s planning to do, but Steve’s never been so charmed in his life. “You sure you’re okay? Because you seem kinda… Off.”

“I’m fine! Honest. I just…”

“Steve?”

“Iwanyoutafuckme.”

Even with how fast he mumbled it, Eddie clearly understood. “What the fuck? What? Why! Why ME?”

“Because I’m tired of waiting, and all the alphas I know suck, and you’re weird but nice, and…” Steve pauses, swallows hard as he looks straight into Eddie’s dark chocolate eyes.

“And no one would believe me anyway, right? So no one has to know.”

Shame flames up his neck and over his cheeks, because that was part of it. The tiniest bit. But Steve bites his lip and shakes his head. “I figured you wouldn’t make fun of me. For not being good at it.”

“With how sweet you smell, I doubt any alpha would tell you that you were bad at sex, Steve.”

“They sure do like calling me a frigid bitch and saying my pussy’s gotta be too dry to feel good since ‘I’m so good at saying no.’ But, sure…” He sniffles, and Eddie steps in close.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t—” Eddie reaches to cup Steve’s cheek, and on instinct the omega leans into the touch.

He purrs, takes a step closer of his own and scents at Eddie’s neck. “You smell real nice, Eddie,” Steve whispers, his lips ghosting along the skin of his throat.

“You smell like hot apple pie.”

“Oh yeah?”

“With vanilla ice cream.”

“Nancy said my scent was really mild, and Tommy always said it was sour…”

“So, you’re just sweet for me, Stevie?”

“I wanna be real sweet for you, Eddie. Let me, please?”

Eddie can only nod. He leads Steve back to his room, watches as Steve strips out of his clothes, revealing delicate pink lace. “You really want this…”

“I really do.” Steve takes Eddie’s hand, brings it to his crotch, lets him feel how much slick already clings to the lacy fabric of his panties. “I want you to be the first alpha to touch me here. I thought about it all night, how good your knot would feel in my tight, hot pussy.”

“I don’t think I’ll last long enough to make it good. Shit, Steve, I’ve never—”

“It’s okay. We can always wait until you’re ready to go again—”

Eddie kisses him then, with far too much teeth, but Steve feels the desire in it and grins.

He’s getting what he wants.

Eddie’s right in the end, popping his knot too soon. Steve cries out in pain, his own dick going soft as he whines through the alpha’s near-violent orgasm.

But the second time is better. After that, Eddie begs to eat him out, to come all over his tits, for Steve to stuff those panties in his mouth and ride him.

By the time he leaves, he has a date for the following evening.

Now that Eddie’s gotten a taste, Steve’s pretty sure he’s not going anywhere.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[lyneira]

Spicy Rengoku headcanons!

-> how rengoku would be like in bed

kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader / cw: cunnilingus, creampie, virginity loss, breeding kink

part 2 including rengoku, tengen, sanemi, giyuu, gyomei and haganezuka!

a/n: I recently finished the mugen train arc and just needed more of him 🥲

He'd do everything with such fervor that there's no doubt you'll know exactly how much of it he has. The erotic noises that would emerge from him would be a testament to this. When he's eating you out, you'll hear how loudly he'll slurp up your juices, smacking his lips as he swallows your nectar, humming lowly into your pussy, "Delicious... So delicious!" He'll loudly moan out in between slurps. Or hearing how harshly his skin slaps against yours as he fucks you, the wet, gushing sounds of his dick repeatedly caressing your inner walls and kissing your core filling the air

Not only will you hear the extent of his passion for you, you'll see it too. When he comes up from between your thighs, you can observe your essence stained on his face, the juices dripping from the sides of his mouth and even from his flushed cheeks. He doesn't bother wiping it off because he's too drunk on your arousal to do so. Plus, if this sight would prove how much he craved and desired you, then he would let you make a mess of him all the more.

On that note, won't you allow him to do the same? He'd be ecstatic if you'd let him both creampie you and release all over you. No need to worry about how much that would take, he has so much love to give you and won't stop until he's given you it entirely. To see you so full of him, his seed dripping from both of your lips and all over your skin would be a sight that'd set him ablaze (heh)

Therefore, I think he'd also have a breeding kink too? He would love to have little ones bringing joy to both you and him, and the thought of being able to teach them and guide them all he knows would be so endearing in his eyes. To have this family with you would be the reason why he'd relentlessly fuck his seed into you for countless nights until you've finally shown signs of pregnancy. And even then, he'd want to fill you up, to cater to your cravings and because of how lovely you looked with your belly swollen

Whether it came to eating you out or fucking your brains out, he'd do them all with such enthusiasm. This man would be bursting with energy and would last much more than a couple of rounds with you, making love to you without his strength ever waning. He firecely devotes himself to his passions, and you're one of them, so he'd go all night and to the morning if he really wanted to.

He'd definitely be vocal! He isn't afraid to voice out how good you're making him feel whether it's through his loud, guttural moans that send vibrations through your body when he presses his lips against your skin or through his praises of you. Grunts, groans, moans, you'll hear them all! LOL

He'd be more than willing to try out all kinds of positions with you. He'd probably enjoy positions where he can firmly ground himself so that he can fuck you at a relentless pace with little to no interruption. So having your back pressed against the wall and legs wrapped around his waist or over his shoulders as he thrusts up into you would be one of his favorite things to do. Also, mating press for sure! (So that he's able to lodge himself in the deepest parts of you and release his seed)

Also, imagine him being the one to take your virginity? Him guiding you through your first time? He'd be such a natural at instructing you and making sure you would feel ready to take him in. He would be the very definition of gentle, but firm

After eating you out and fingering your tight, virgin hole enough, he'll pull out his cock, already stained with his precum, and would slide it up and down your pussy, letting his essence mix with yours to ease and smoothen his motions.

Looking at his dick and feeling the weight of it on your entrance would leave you feeling anxious and would have you wondering if it would fit. Because although he had prepared you so well, the sight of it (specifically his girth) would still intimidate you. If you tell him, "It won't fit", as he's ready to sheathe himself inside of you, he'll take his other hand, bring it to your face to softly caress your cheek, and would assure you it will, saying, "I know you can take me in, sweetheart. It'll hurt a little bit, but I promise you it will feel good. There's no need to be scared. I've got you. Trust me"

And of course you trust this ray of sunshine so you give him the go-ahead and he'd finally insert himself into you. You’d sharply gasp as you feel the thickness of his cock splitting you open, to which he'll quickly assuage you by rubbing circles on your hip and cooing, "I'll take it slow. Take a deep breath for me, y/n... Ease into my length"

Sure enough, you'd gradually adjust to the sheer size of his cock as he slowly buries himself into your cunt, inch by inch

And as he begins to quicken his pace, he'd heave out, with a small chuckle, "You're doing so good..! Ah, so tight..!! Squeezing my cock, just like that...!"

I also see Rengoku as the type to intensely stare at your face as he makes love to you, both relishing the delightful, expressions of pain and pleasure you'd give him and ensuring that he's not truly hurting you. So don't be startled when you open your eyes to see his fiery hues locked in on yours as he's giving his love to you

Overall, very enthusiastic, eager, loud, and has a lot of stamina when it comes to sex

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[kypopkypop]

"Your so beautiful" "I know isn't she" "I was talking about you"

Changbin fluff coming home from the hospital

Warning: Body insecurities, just gave birth, reader get really upset and doesn't feel totally better at the end (I don't know if that really a warning, mentions of nursing/breastfeeding a baby (tell me if I missed something)

She doesn't really feel that much better at the end because I think it's unrealistic for the reader to suddenly feel better after something someone else says. Sometimes your just upset and you need to be upset to make your self feel better in the future if that makes sense. Also don't mind what changbin says I'm bad at comforting people so I tried my best. I think it lacking a little something but I'll try and make it better as time goes on and I get more into writing.

You were sitting on your couch holding you 2 day old baby girl. You had just come home from the hospital a couple of hours ago.

Birth is a very painful, stressful, and interesting to say the least. Your body had changed so much during your pregnancy but it slowly changed over 9 months. Giving you some time to get used to it as your body got bigger.

Birth is nothing like that though. Even if your a little chubby everyone thinks your super cute when your pregnant. Whenever people look at a pregnant person you don't think "hmm I wonder how much weight she's gained" you usually think "aww she looks so good for being 9 months pregnant, her body's creating a life".

After birth everyone losses that mentality but your body doesn't change for at least a couple of weeks. Not to even mention all the different hormones and emotions going through your body during this time.

You think of how amazing your baby girl is and how you would go through labor a thousand time again to have her. Then you look in the mirror and see every part of your self that you liked before you got pregnant has changed.

After having your baby girl your anxiety and depression worsened. It was hard for you to think of one thing that liked about your self. Your self confidence before getting pregnant wasn't super strong or anything but you've never felt like this.

Your mama bear instincts came out. You got so anxious when ever someone else was holding your baby besides your husband Changbin of course. You loved seeing him with her. It almost felt like your only purpose in life was to take care of this baby. You know Changbin would never leave you but it scared you what he thought of you know that you thought your body was "ruined".

Looking at your wonderful baby girl as she's fast asleep in your arms your husband comes and sits next to you. He sits facing you with and arm next to your shoulders. He starts admiring you baby girl too.

Then he looks up at you. You get a little freaked out from how long he was looking at you. You were trying to figure out what would make him do that. Your scared to fully look at him. Scared he'll see how puffy your face is and your dark under eye circles.

"Your so beautiful" he says. You can really hear the emotion in his voice. It almost sounds like he could cry

"I know isn't she perfect"

"I was talking about you" even though you were scared you turned you face to see him. The love in his eyes and the smile that shows up on his face when he sees your full face

"I'm never gonna look the same though. What if my stomach always stays this big. What if....." you start tearing up and you stop talking before you fully start crying.

"Y/n I know you've changed a lot before you got pregnant vs now. But the way I see you will always be the same. I didn't fall in love with you because of your body. No physical changes would ever make me stop loving you. And I know your hormones is making things harder emotionally but I want you to know that I will always be there. And if you ever need a reminder of how gorgeous you are just tell me and I could go on and on. You think our daughter is beautiful and when I look at her I just see a mini you."

You had a lot of tears streaming down your face at this point. Everything was just so overwhelming you couldn't talk. All the emotions of how you felt about your self being contradicted by Changbins words made your head feel like it was gonna explode. But you were trying hard to not let out a sob because you didn't want to wake your daughter.

Almost as Changbin read your thoughts he picks up your baby and puts her in the baby swing. He comes back and scoots you over so your on his lap. "I know it gonna take more than just once for you to believe me but I'll say it as many times as you need." He said as he puts his head and hand on top of yours. You let out the sobs that you were holding in. You hid your face in the crook of his neck as he rocked you. It made you feel like the baby but it really did make you feel better.

After taking some deep breaths to calm down you pull away to look at your perfect husband. He wipes you tears and tells you some more how much he loves you.

He tells you to lay down and take a nap to help you calm down. And being tired wasn't helping with how stressed out you were. It scared you to leave taking care of the baby all to him but he assured you. Anytime you needed a nap during the day that he would take care of her. You have been up all night nursing her. He tries to do as much as he can during the night but when your the only one who can feed her there's not much he can do. So he wants to make it up to you.

He tucks you in on the couch. And as you almost fall asleep immediately you hear him say.

"I love you and good night beautiful"

Also this is my first time writing so don't judge me to hard 😄 also thank you for reading.

[chiaraswritings]

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably. 

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?" 

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk." 

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured." 

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in. 

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now. 

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.  

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again. 

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic. 

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead. 

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again. 

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..." 

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go. 

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

 When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain. 

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile. 

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man. 

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit." 

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back." 

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts." 

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?" 

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake. 

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying. 

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking. 

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?" 

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?" 

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back." 

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?" 

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay." 

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me. 

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes. 

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered. 

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep." 

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares. 

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces. 

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato. 

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move. 

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes. 

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk." 

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace. 

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink." 

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries. 

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce. 

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt. 

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash." 

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it. 

"Bruce... Bruce, wait." 

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes. 

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others. 

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly." 

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened. 

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly. 

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes. 

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like." 

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love. 

"Expect the unexpected." 

[multiverse-sparkles]

Loving him was never enough — B. Barnes.

summary: you allow yourself to feel the loss and the hurt of his betrayal— but after this, you promise yourself; no more. this time, you leave bucky barnes. this time, you put yourself first.

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: cheating, ANGST, more angst, allusions to pregnancy, cursing.

part 2 to this

the party was in full swing downstairs; another celebration for a reason you no longer bothered to remember. from the third year of your marriage, banquets and gatherings were a part of your week, either with your husband's business associates or simply just friends getting together for the sake of appearances, it was a chore itself to try and keep up with the latest reason for a celebration of such caliber.

yet you have always played your part well; smiling, cheering, and raising toast when needed be. you've also perfected the charade of a loving husband and wife, sharing ocassional whispers and laughter, perhaps even a lingering kiss; and sometimes, they were welcomed. sometimes, you do feel the tenderness as he gazes at you. you feel the butterflies whenever he would whisper something cheesy on your ears. even the touch of his lips upon yours were enough to renew hope, until, come another day.

but recently, you've only ever been feeling the heavy weight of dread on the pit of your stomach. something ominous, something akin to resentment ; an emotion you've never entertained, despite his numerous indescretions. his blatant disregard for the sanctity of your marriage has finally caught up with you.

bucky finally exhausted your love.

because as you stared at him, in his act of something so sinful, molding his body with another woman, fucking into her with wild abandon; it was like a bucket of cold water has drenched you.

you were suddenly all too aware of your surroundings, and your grip on the knob loosened, only enough to close the door back again.

the frames rattled, the occupants of the bed stilled, and only the patter of drifting footsteps filled the silence.

the same time bucky's blood ran cold in his veins.

you slept in what felt like, the best ten fucking hours of rest; awaking with the bright sun peaking from the spaces of the curtain, even the birds chirping happily, and for the first time in a really long time, you woke up with a contented sigh.

you were back in your old home, it's much smaller in size, and comparatively less luxurious than the estate you lived in, but it was home. and it was yours. something that could never be tethered to the man you called your husband.

automatically, you checked your phone for emails; several missed calls and text messages from bucky himself were what welcomed you, yet you opted to ignore them, instead checking in with your close friend and one of new york's finest; andy barber.

barber: will you be free to come to the office at around ten? i can discuss your options, and we'll have to go through the paperwork to sort out whatever you need to do.

barber: also, while we're at it; i'm proud of you.

for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than ten minutes, you thought back to your back and forth correspondence the night prior— thinking, had you really made the decision to leave him? was it real this time?

could you live without him?

you'd pondered about the prospect most of your marriage, ultimately coming to a conclusion that it was difficult to eject james out of your system. he was your entire world and existing without him was a thought that couldn't even exist in your orbit. and ultimately; can you really live the rest of your life, chained to a man so warped up in his own selfishness without making the effort to actually consider what you may be feeling?

can you continously gaslight yourself into thinking that he loved you; in his own, twisted way. that he was only so weak of a man to deny the temptations and wants of his flesh— were you not so tired, and broken down by his false promises, that you ache, deep in your soul.

when will you realize that the only person who deserves unlimited forgiveness was yourself, and not the man who promised you forever; but stomped and ran over the tattered pieces of your heart.

your hand touched upon your stomach, a protective instinct blaring noisily in your head; you have not only yourself to think about now.

years of trying had not once bore to fruiton until now— you wipe the hot tears streaming down your face, a sob echoing in the stilness of the room. why was your love so cruel to you? why was it that you had let things go this far with a person such as james?

you cry out. torn and heart wrenching cries as you let yourself feel the years of betrayal, and heartache, promising yourself that this will be the last.

soon.. you hope; soon, you will no longer cry for him.

[yawnderu]

Genesis — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I

The ride back home was awfully quiet, no music playing in the background like usual, no mindless chatter, simply both of you staring blankly ahead. Your hand was holding your stomach, missing the way it bulged before you were forced to give birth to the stillborn. It feels as if a part of your soul was ripped off of your body— and in a way, that's what happened. The little girl was an extension of yourself for so long that not feeling her in your womb anymore was like losing a limb.

Three months. In three months, your little girl would have been welcomed into the world, a room full of toys and warm clothes already waiting for her. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dam breaks, crying silently out of pure shock while Simon's knuckles turn white, clutching the steering wheel.

You say nothing as he parks in the street, waiting as you slam the door shut and stumble out of the car, already feeling the dread as soon as you look at your house. Simon's arms wrap around your body when you nearly fall over, too numb from the shock and pain mixing together. He carries you like you're a child, holding your face close to his chest as you sob without even realizing, unable to process anything.

He gently sets you down in bed, removing your shoes and putting them away on the side, covering your body with a warm weighted blanket before laying down with you, holding you as close as possible without hurting you. He doesn't know what to say— truly, he's at loss for words for the first time in his life. His soul is crushed, and he can't even begin to imagine how much worse it is for you.

''I'm sorry.'' It's all he can say for now, planting kiss after kiss to your forehead while you sob, his eyes getting glossy as feels you clutch your stomach, all evidence of the little girl you said ''I love you'' to before she even had ears is fully gone.

His warm hand rubs circles on your back while the other one cradles your head, hoping that at the very least, his touch helps. He plants one last kiss on your forehead before resting his chin on the top of your head, silently feeling relief once your arms wrap around him.

"We can try later on, when you're ready. I'll be home until you're right, love." He whispers, holding you even closer as his heart beats faster. He doesn't know if his promise is helping, or making things worse.

"I'll stay with you the entire pregnancy and more. The old man can deal with me being gone for a year or two." Your silence does nothing to help his growing anxiety, ready to take over his soul like black mold until he feels your hands clutching the back of his shirt, holding the fabric in a tight fist as you choke down a sob.

"You promise?" Your weak voice makes his heart break fully hit, brown eyes softening as he looks down at you. He gently cups your cheeks and makes you look up at him, taking in your features with a loving gaze. Face covered in snot and tears, yet still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"I promise."

[mononijikayu]

“i blinked and suddenly, i had a valentine— gojo satoru.

Your heart swelled with tenderness that you’ve never felt before. And yet all at once, that unescapable touch of sadness at the thought of his departure. You couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful face. That tender face, that laughing face. Gojo Satoru was the wonder of your world. In his existence, in his every breath, his every touch, his every grin — you couldn’t help but feel like life was anything else but worth living.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: valentine by laufey

NOTE: when i listened to laufey, i wondered about satoru a lot. i think its because satoru is just very love coded, you know? he's a romantic at heart. he's gentle too. also, he definitely loves chara-bentos. genmei (you) really make the best of it. he requests digimon a lot, but you're still working on it!!! anyway, enjoy this!!! i love you~

masterlist

u s and t h e m

2008

YOU WERE EXCITED TO HAVE SOME SLEEP AFTER THIS. With a smile, you approached your apartment, juggling grocery bags in both hands. The weight of the bags felt lighter than the relief you felt after finally securing a leave from your sorcerer duties.

Gakuganji had been quite adamant about keeping you around, insisting on your presence for various missions. Yet, you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. The constant strain of back-to-back missions had left you yearning for rest and proper sleep.

When you received the news that your leave had been approved, a wave of immense relief and joy washed over you. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted off your shoulders. The thought of having a break, a chance to breathe and recharge, filled you with happiness.

However, as you entered your apartment, the excitement was briefly tempered by the realization that your pantry and fridge were nearly empty. The thought of enjoying a peaceful day off without any food was disheartening, so you quickly decided to go out and buy some groceries.

Now, with bags filled with fresh ingredients and your favorite snacks, including the much-anticipated coffee jelly, you couldn't wait to relax and enjoy the evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over your own quaint neighborhood.

The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, creating a serene backdrop as you walked towards your apartment. The gentle breeze carried the sounds of children playing in the distance and the faint hum of traffic, adding to the peaceful ambiance.

As you neared your stairs, you paused, noticing a familiar figure slumped against the railing. The sight of the usually energetic and lively Satoru Gojo looking so worn out tugged at your heart. His head was resting against the railing, and he seemed to be half-asleep. Your brows furrowed in confusion and surprise. Why was he here all of a sudden? How did he even know where you lived? You’ve always left that from records.

"Gojo–kun?" you called softly, as you patted his shoulder.  He stirred, blinking slowly, his cerulean eyes unfocused as he tried to wake up. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

"Hey, senpai." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry…. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

You could only frown, realizing how tired he looks. You can only think he’s been doing a lot of missions again. You’d already told everyone, especially Yaga–sensei, that the kids should be resting still. It’s only been a few months since the failure of their mission, since Gojo Satoru’s awakening. And since then, none had listened to your advice.

From what you heard, the missions they’d been sent on lately had been solo missions and one after another, they barely had any time to themselves. You purse your lips. They shouldn’t have to do this. Not when there were others there too. You could feel guilt pulse into you, for taking a break. It’s only a few days at most. But you couldn’t help but wonder what those three days could do to these kids. They’re getting overworked. 

"You've been on too many missions lately, haven’t you?" you asked, concern evident in your voice as you looked at Satoru, who was now seated on the couch, still wearing the exhaustion from his recent endeavors.

"Yeah." he admitted with a weary sigh, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. "It's been non-stop. But passing on missions right now... I don't think that's a good idea."

You sat down beside him, feeling a mix of empathy and worry. "Why not? You need rest, Gojo–kun. Geto–kun’s been shouldering cases too, hasn't he? Surely there's someone else who can take over some of your workload."

“How come you’re formal with me again?” He pouts at you, taking you aback. “I thought I told you to just call me Satoru?”

“You’re my kouhai, and I am your senpai. There’s still degrees of respect—”

“I don’t care.” He retorts back at you, like the brat that he is. “Just call me Satoru, senpai. Please.”

It was evident in the desperation flickering in his bright blue eyes, the glasses perched slightly askew on his nose. Your own gaze, sharp and unwavering, met his own with understanding.

In the years you had known Gojo Satoru, you had sensed the weight he carried—names like Zenin and Gojo, identities tied to clans and powers, but never fully embracing him as an individual. He had yearned to be recognized for himself, as Satoru, not just as a bearer of lineage and strength.

"You're so talkative for someone who's sleepy, Satoru," you remarked with a sigh, breaking the thoughtful silence between you.

His response was a smile tinged with relief, a small spark of joy amidst weariness. "I always feel good when I'm with you, senpai," he confessed sincerely.

"Don't say it like that," you replied, feeling a rush of warmth to your cheeks at his words. You shook off the embarrassment with a playful scoff. "You're too much, aren't you?"

"Only for you, senpai!" he declared with a mischievous grin, his eyes crinkling with affection.

You shake your head at him. “Did you just come here from a mission? Where’s Geto-kun? I thought I told you to take a break?”

Satoru nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Suguru's been handling a mission by himself, again. Haibara and Nanami are already swamped with their duties. The higher-ups are stretched thin as it is. I doubt they’ll give us time to rest.”

You frowned, “They gave me time to rest.”

“I don’t think they’d go against a special–grade Zenin, senpai.” He points it out to you. “‘sides, I doubt that’s lasting long. You’re too valuable in the field.”

You sighed in resignation. “I suppose you’re right. But you can’t keep going on like this. You’re sleeping in unknown places like this. It’s unhealthy.”

He looked at you gratefully, appreciative of your concern. "I know," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But it’s what there is. Besides, are you really going to doubt my six-eyes right now, senpai? No random bum is gonna defeat me.”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Be that as it may be, I don’t think that you should be out here all by yourself.”

He watches you as you take out your keys. “You really do live here, huh?”

You turned to him. “You were just guessing?”

“Well, not really but I found you!” His grin annoyed you for a moment.

Your eyes narrow as you sighed. "Come on, let's get you inside."

He nodded, still groggy from fatigue, and followed you into your apartment. The weight of his exhaustion seemed to lift slightly as he stepped across the threshold. Satoru's bright blue eyes scanned the cozy interior, taking in every detail.

The living room welcomed him with its warm ambiance—soft, inviting cushions adorned the couch, bathed in the gentle glow of warm lighting. The faint scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, adding a touch of tranquility to the space.

It felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the sterile and regimented environment of the Jujutsu High dorms where practicality often overshadowed comfort. Here, in your apartment, there was a sense of homeliness that resonated deeply with Satoru.

The walls, adorned with personal touches and memories, spoke of a life lived beyond the battlefield of sorcery. Pictures upon pictures of you and two young women. He could only surmise that it was your friends from Kyoto Jujutsu High. It added a nice touch. But he always gets curious about it all. Still, he doesn't want to put you on the spot.

As he took in the aroma of vanilla essence, he could feel at ease. There was no need for Infinity in this proximity. He was with you. And when he's with you, he's free to be him. He's free to be Satoru. And with you, in this place, he could pretend and set aside the weight of his responsibilities of the strongest far away.

Satoru paused for a moment, taking it all in with a mix of gratitude and relief. He turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the weariness etched into his features. "Thanks for letting me crash here, senpai." he said, his voice tinged with genuine appreciation.

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "You're welcome. But next time, please call. I thought were dead, laying outside like that."

"But surprises are way more fun, don't you think?"

You sighed. "It's not fun for me, Satoru. I was going to enjoy my coffee jelly in my peace."

“You really have a nice place.” He says as he starts moving around the pillows to the side. “I really didn’t think that this sketchy place had anything to offer.

“I know the owner, she gave me a discount.”

He looks at you with a raised brow. “Why does a Zenin like you with so much money want a discount?”

“None of your business,” you retorted, setting the grocery bags down on the counter with a soft thud. As you walked over to where Satoru lay sprawled out on the couch, you couldn't help but observe him for a moment, taking in the weariness etched into his features.

“How did you really find my place?” you asked, curiosity tinging your voice.

Satoru gave you a lazy grin, his bright blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “The Six Eyes,” he replied simply, as if it explained everything.

You sighed, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “You’re so...”

“Charming?” he interjected, his grin widening.

“Infuriating,” you finished, though there was a hint of fondness in your tone.

You leaned closer, studying his expression. “Do you have a headache?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

He nodded, his weariness becoming more pronounced. “A little.”

“And by a little, you mean a lot, hm?” you teased gently, knowing well the toll his abilities could take on him.

“It’s not easy trying to narrow down one area, figuring that area out with just your smell in the whole of Nakagyō-ku, you know!” he protested, half-serious, half-playful.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “That sounds like something a stalker would say.”

“Huh!? I’m not a stalker!” Satoru exclaimed, feigning offense.

“Also something a stalker would say,” you teased, unable to resist.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I plead guilty to having heightened senses,” he admitted with a playful glint in his eye.

You chuckled, shaking your head affectionately. “You're incorrigible, Satoru.”

“Only for you, senpai,” he replied with a wink, his playful demeanor melting into a genuine smile. 

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Are you hungry? I was just about to prepare dinner.”

“Ah, that would be great, senpai! I’m starving, y’know?” Satoru replied eagerly, sitting up a bit more on the couch, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in anticipation of a meal.

You chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. “Alright then, let’s get you fed,” you said warmly, turning towards the kitchen with a sense of purpose.

As you began to gather ingredients and pots, the comforting routine of cooking helped ease the tension that often lingered from Satoru’s exhausting missions. You moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, preparing a meal that you knew would both satisfy his hunger and lift his spirits. The rhythmic sounds of chopping vegetables and sizzling in the pan filled the air, creating a soothing background to your conversation.

“So, any exciting stories from your latest mission?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru as you worked.

He leaned back on the couch, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “Oh, you know, the usual—exorcizing curses, saving innocents, the usual hero stuff,” he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. But then he falters for a moment. “Though, the paper work is going to be a pain!”

You chuckled softly. “You make the physical work so easy.” you remarked, turning back to stir the simmering sauce.

“Well, it’s not always a walk in the park at all.” he admitted with a soft sigh. “But…. knowing someone who can be kind to me about it is with me….about everything. It’s good.”

You grinned. “Didn’t take you to be so emotional about that, Satoru.”

He pouts deeply. “Only you can see it like this, senpai.”

You smiled to yourself, grateful that you could provide him with this small comfort. As the aroma of the cooking food filled the kitchen, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you both—a moment of peace amidst the chaos of their lives as sorcerers.

As you moved around the kitchen, preparing dinner with practiced ease, Satoru couldn't help but watch you with a soft smile playing on his lips. The way you effortlessly navigated the space, your movements graceful and purposeful, captivated him. Each chop of the vegetables, each stir of the simmering pot, seemed like a dance orchestrated by someone who knew the kitchen intimately.

The comforting aroma of food slowly filled the air, mingling with the soft evening light filtering through the windows. Satoru leaned back on the couch, his gaze fixed on you with a warmth that bloomed in his chest. It wasn't just the meal you were preparing—it was the care and thoughtfulness behind it that touched him deeply.

In that moment, amidst the clinking of utensils and the gentle hum of the stove, Satoru realized how fond he had become of you. It wasn't just your strength as a sorcerer or your wisdom as a senpai that drew him in—it was the way you effortlessly made a house into a home, a sanctuary where he could find solace and peace.

"You know," he began, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity, "I think you're spoiling me, senpai."

You turned towards him, a playful glint in your eye as you stirred the pot. "Oh, am I?" you teased gently, your smile warm and inviting.

Satoru chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his gaze lingering on you with unabashed admiration.

As you placed the dishes on the table, the spread before him elicited a delighted grin from Satoru. "This looks amazing, senpai," he praised, his eyes lighting up with genuine appreciation.

You sat down across from him, sharing the meal together in comfortable silence, punctuated by occasional laughter and shared stories. The simple act of enjoying a home-cooked meal with you felt like a cherished moment, a testament to the bond that had grown between you.

And as the evening unfolded, wrapped in the warmth of good food and even better company, Gojo Satoru knew one thing for certain—he was incredibly lucky to have found not just a senpai, but someone who had captured his heart in ways he never expected.

Valentine's Day, 2008, he thought. 

This is when it all started for him and you.

History can only get better with time.

2011

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. A year had passed since you married Satoru, and each day felt like a precious gift wrapped in tender moments and quiet smiles. It was something you never imagined for yourself, when you lived in Zenin manor. You never saw a future beyond what you were forced to have then. But here you are, with him, free and content. And it meant the world to you.

He never asked for much from you, always mindful not to overwhelm you with his larger-than-life presence. From the moment he slipped the ring onto your finger, he made it his mission to take care of you, to save you in ways big and small.

Satoru was a good husband—attentive, kind, and always putting your needs first. In the mornings, he would tiptoe around the apartment, making sure not to wake you as he prepared breakfast.

You often woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of a beautifully set table, complete with a little note from Satoru that read, "Good morning, wife. Have a great day!"

He found joy in the smallest things, like holding your hand during walks in the park or surprising you with your favorite flowers just because he felt like it. He had an uncanny ability to make you laugh, whether through his goofy antics or his playful teasing. And every night, without fail, he would wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet nothings as you drifted off to sleep.

Satoru's love was a constant, steady presence, like a warm blanket on a cold night. He was always there, ready to catch you when you stumbled, to listen when you needed to talk, and to simply be there when words weren't necessary. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and intense, softened whenever he looked at you, filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

Despite his strength and the immense responsibilities he carried as a sorcerer, Satoru never let it overshadow the gentle, caring man he was with you. He made you feel safe, cherished, and above all, loved. In these walls that build your home, you never once felt out of place. You just instantly felt it. You felt like you belonged here. You felt like you had a place in this world, a purpose to live — because of him.

You don’t know if you were in love with him or if you feel like a wife should feel for one’s husband. But you knew you cared deeply for him. You knew that you wanted only the best for him.

And you want to be able to give it to him. You wanted to do everything in your power to see him smile, to protect his smile. You wanted to make Gojo Satoru feel like he has somewhere he can feel warmth in his humanity.

As your first Valentine's day approached, you found yourself wanting to show him just how much he meant to you. You wanted to thank him for all the ways he cared for you, for the endless patience and unwavering support he offered to you. So in that morning, you woke up early, determined to see him off on his mission. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow through the curtains.

Satoru was already getting ready, moving quietly around the bedroom. His movements were graceful, almost silent, as he slipped into his uniform. He glanced at you with surprise when he saw you awake, propped up on one elbow, watching him with sleepy eyes.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "You should go back to bed."

You shook your head, blushing slightly as you held out a carefully packed lunch bag. The pink bento box was wrapped neatly in a patterned cloth, a small handwritten note peeking out from underneath. Satoru’s vibrant blue stared at what you were holding, blinking – as though he could not believe what you were holding. 

He knows what it is, it's clear to see. It’s like then, in those high–school dramas, where the woman would make the person she cared deeply for a bento, with those cute character designs. Silently, he hoped that it was a digimon–chara bento. He hoped it was Metalgreymon or maybe Skullgreymon. 

"I wanted to see you off…." you said softly, your cheeks tinged with pink. “Is that….is that not what you want?”

“N–no, that’s not it.” He responds almost immediately, rubbing the back of his head. He looked shy by what you said, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “It’s just… I didn’t expect you’d be up this early, least of all for me. And doing this bento for me…”

“I–I wanted to!” You tell him, the blush on your face extending to your ears. “I… I don’t know how long you’ll be gone, but I… I wanted to show my appreciation… It’s Valentine's Day, you see…”

Satoru's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as he looked at the lunch bag from your hands. His long fingers brushed against yours, sending a warm shiver up your spine.

"You made this for me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the delicate moment.

You nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. I wanted to make sure you had something good to eat. You work so hard, Satoru. You deserve it."

Satoru’s eyes softened as he took in your words, his heart swelling with affection. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your flushed cheeks.

“You’re too good to me, y’know?” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “Thank you. This means more to me than you know.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his own in a tender gaze. “You work so hard, Satoru. And all at once, you do well in taking care of me too… I just want to make sure you’re taken care of, even when you’re out there.”

He pulled you into another hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “You take care of me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. I should be the one thanking you, darling,” he murmured against your hair. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

He smiled, his eyes shining with a love so pure it made your heart skip a beat. “You flatter me.”

“It’s not just empty flattery… it’s from the heart, y’know?”

“I do know.” You smiled gently at him.

“I promise to come back to you as soon as I can, darling.” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “And when I do, we'll celebrate properly.”

Your heart swelled with tenderness that you’ve never felt before. And yet all at once, that unescapable touch of sadness at the thought of his departure. You couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful face. That tender face, that laughing face. Gojo Satoru was the wonder of your world. In his existence, in his every breath, his every touch, his every grin — you couldn’t help but feel like life was anything else but worth living.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek softly, pouring all your emotions into that single gesture. You didn’t know what compelled you to do that. But at that moment, it felt appropriate.

It felt like something that you wanted to give him. It was at that moment, an earned gift. After all he had done for you, it was a thankful gentleness. You tried to be as tender as the wind when it brushed against his own cheek.

Satoru froze, stunned at what just happened. He looked at you, unmoving. In that moment, self-awareness brushed through you, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I–I’m sorry," you stammered, stepping back slightly. "I didn’t mean to—"

He cut you off by pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you securely. "Don’t apologize," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "That was... perfect."

You felt his warmth envelop you, and you relaxed into his hold, your heart racing. "I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me," you admitted softly, your voice barely audible.

Satoru pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "You have no idea how much that means to me, darling." he said, his gaze intense and filled with affection. "You always know how to make me feel special."

Your blush deepened, but you smiled up at him, feeling a surge of love and gratitude. "You deserve it, Satoru. You deserve all the love and appreciation in the world."

“So do you.” He says, his face scarlet as he smiles at you. “You always will, darling.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Satoru.” you whispered against his ear. “Be safe for me, hm?”

Satoru maneuvered his face, his forehead resting against yours. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay?” he said, his voice full of tender affection. “I’ll be counting down the moments until I’m back in your arms.”

You nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I’ll be waiting for you. Like I always am.”

With one last lingering look, Your husband took the bento from your arms and smiled. You returned it just as brightly. He turned to leave, but he stopped. Your husband lets himself glance back at you with a look that speaks volumes. No one else would have him like this. Only you. He would never let anyone else have this moment. 

As he walked out the door, you could only think about looking forward to seeing him come home. Looking forward to having him in your arms, to enjoy a meal together, to laugh together. 

You returned to your shared bedroom and smiled as you saw the lilac paper laying on the lamp table. You take the paper in hand and clutched it close to your heart. You take a moment before you read the words again. 

"Think of me while I’m gone.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself once more.

You had some things to think over this weekend.

2015

HE COULDN'T DESCRIBE HIS LOVE FOR YOU. It has only been two months since you gave Gojo Satoru the best gift in the world: your little boy, Gojo Satoshi. The cute little boy who looked ever so beautiful, identical to his father, was his beloved, as much as you. And he could not get enough of him. The love that filled his heart seemed to expand with every smile, every coo, and every moment spent with his precious family.

The days had been tiring, filled with the demands of taking care of a newborn, the other children, and maintaining the household while Satoru was away on missions. Despite the exhaustion, you cherished every moment with your family. There was a quiet joy in the simple, everyday moments – the soft giggles of Satoshi, the curious questions from Megumi, and the boundless energy of Tsumiki.

Satoru, on the other hand, felt a profound sense of gratitude and responsibility. Nothing, he thought, would ever be enough to truly repay your love, affection, and the sacrifices you made for him. He was determined to be the best husband and father he could be, to ensure that you felt cherished and supported.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself sitting in the nursery, gently rocking Satoshi in your arms. His tiny fingers clutched at your shirt, his eyes heavy with sleep. You hummed a lullaby softly, feeling a profound sense of peace despite the weariness tugging at your bones.

The door creaked open, and Satoru stepped in, his presence immediately bringing a warmth to the room. He had returned from yet another mission, looking both relieved and concerned. His eyes softened as they landed on you and Satoshi.

"How are my favorite people doing?" he asked quietly, moving to sit beside you.

"Better now that you're home," you replied, offering him a tired but genuine smile.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You look exhausted, darling. Have you been getting any rest?"

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. "It's been a bit chaotic, but it's worth it."

Satoru leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You do so much for us. I wish I could be here more to help."

"You’re here now, and that’s what matters, my love." you said softly, your heart swelling with love for the man who always put his family first.

Suddenly, Satoshi stirred in your arms, letting out a small cry. You started to get up, but Satoru placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’ve got him, don’t get up." he said, taking the baby from your arms with practiced ease.

“You sure? You’re tired too, my love.”

"One hundred percent. Now, go back to sleep." he whispered, his voice tender and soothing. "I'll take care of him."

You nodded, too tired to protest, and watched as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. His touch was warm and reassuring. It always was something so wondrous, when he touches you.

He was ever so gentle, but firm to express its reality. Each and every touch, it was that repetitive, silent promise that he would always be there for you. And you were so happy, so lucky — to have that. You closed your eyes slowly, smiling against the sheets. 

Satoru left the room quietly, making his way to Satoshi's room. He sat down on the rocking chair and tenderly took him to be cradled in the bounty of loving arms. He started humming little tunes that Satoshi had loved. Recently, he loved the melody of Hey Jude.

Satoru loved playing that song on your record player. But he thinks that there was no need for the record player. The smile creeping through your son’s lips was enough to tell Satoru that there was no need. His father’s humming was better.

As he rocked Satoshi back to sleep, Satoru’s thoughts were filled with a profound sense of purpose and love. He wanted to be a good father, a good husband. He wanted to create a world where you and the children felt loved and safe.

Satoru gazed down at Satoshi, the baby’s delicate features illuminated by the soft glow of the nursery lamp. The tiny rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his fingers occasionally twitches in his sleep—it all filled Satoru with a deep, unwavering resolve.

“I’ll do everything I can to protect you, little dawn.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “To protect all of you, your papa will do anything and everything.”

His mind wandered to the future, to the life he wanted to build for his family. He envisioned laughter filling the rooms of your home, the sound of Satoshi’s giggles blending with the playful banter of Megumi and Tsumiki. He imagined quiet, peaceful moments where he could simply hold you close, knowing that you were safe and content.

“My little dawn, you were such a gift. You always will be.” Satoru smiles tenderly. “You will always be the proof of mama and papa’s love. And we’ll love you forever. Big sister ‘miki' and big brother ‘gumi will all love you a lot too, hm? Always know that, little dawn.”

In that moment, as Satoshi's cries turned to soft murmurs and then silence, Satoru felt a deep sense of contentment. He looked back towards the bedroom where you slept.

Satoru knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you never had to carry the weight of the world alone. Satoru looked down at his son, who was now gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. He couldn't help but smile as he gently rocked Satoshi in his arms.

"What should I do to thank your mom for being everything in my life?" he asked softly, his voice Filled with affection, Satoru gazed down at Satoshi, cradling his tiny body against his chest. “It’s going to be Valentine’s Day soon, little dawn. What do you think Papa should do for Mama?”

Satoshi let out a cute, nonsensical babble, his tiny hands reaching up towards Satoru's face. His fingers brushed against Satoru’s cheek, and he responded with a soft chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his son's forehead.

"You’re right," Satoru said, as if Satoshi had given the most profound advice. "I should take care of her just like she takes care of us."

Satoshi gurgled in response, his big eyes sparkling with curiosity and innocence. Satoru’s heart swelled with love for his little boy and for you, the woman who had given him such a precious gift. Satoru wonders what he had done to be this happy. To have such wonder in his life, to be able to love and live. He sighed in contentment. 

Gently swaying with Satoshi in his arms, Satoru began to plan a special Valentine’s Day. He thought about all the little things you loved—flowers, quiet moments of affection, and simple gestures that spoke volumes. He wanted to create a day that would remind you of how cherished you were, not just as his partner, but as the heart of their family.

Later, as he tucked Satoshi back into his crib, he whispered, “We’ll make it a day she’ll never forget, won’t we, little dawn?”

Once Satoshi fell back asleep, Satoru carefully placed him back in his crib. With quiet determination, he set about cleaning the house and doing the laundry. He wanted you to wake up to a peaceful, tidy home, a small gesture to show his appreciation for all you did.

As the morning light filtered through the windows, he moved to the kitchen and started breakfast for Megumi and Tsumiki, who were already beginning to stir. The smell of pancakes and eggs soon filled the air, and he could hear the kids shuffling down the hallway.

Megumi entered the kitchen first, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. "Morning, Gojo-sensei," he mumbled sleepily.

Satoru chuckled, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. "Morning, Megumi. Did you sleep well?"

Megumi nodded, glancing over at the table set with plates and utensils. "Yeah. This looks good."

Tsumiki followed closely, her face lighting up at the sight of breakfast. "Wow, Satoru-san, this looks amazing!" She hopped up onto a chair, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Good morning, ‘miki!" Satoru greeted warmly, a smile brightening his face as Tsumiki bounded into the kitchen. "I thought we'd have a nice family breakfast today."

Tsumiki's eyes widened with delight, her cheeks flushed with happiness. "Ah, that’s so lovely, Satoru-san! Thank you so much for your hard work!" She hopped up onto a chair, her excitement palpable.

Megumi, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, glanced at his plate and then at Satoru. "Thank you….I guess." he mumbled, his voice slightly muffled.

Satoru chuckled, pouring some syrup over his pancakes. "You're welcome, Megumi. Now go on. Eat!" He gestured with a playful nudge, encouraging them both to tuck into the breakfast he had prepared.

As they ate, Satoru glanced between them with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "So, what do you two have planned for Valentine's Day?" he asked, genuinely curious about their intentions for the day dedicated to love and affection.

Megumi blushed slightly, looking down at his plate. "I... I wrote a card for Gen-san," he admitted shyly. “And….maybe…”

Satoru raised a brow. “Maybe what?”

“....a hug.”

“A hug?” Satoru starts to grin. “Well, you know that bear hugs are encouraged. I really think it would be a fantastic Valentine’s day gift!”

Tsumiki beamed, "Me too! I worked really hard on my card too. And the paper flowers that I made! I can't wait for Gen–san to see it!"

Satoru's heart swelled with pride. "Gen is going to love them, both of you. You know how much Gen appreciates the things you do."

As he finished breakfast with the kids, Satoru felt a swell of pride and love for his family. Sitting around the table together, sharing smiles and conversation, filled him with a deep sense of fulfillment.

Megumi and Tsumiki were growing up so fast, each with their own quirks and personalities, yet united in their affection for you, the person they saw as their mother. They made him proud every day, not just with their accomplishments, but with the way they cared for and appreciated you.

Watching them interact, seeing how they expressed their love for you in their own unique ways, warmed Satoru's heart. Megumi's quiet thoughtfulness and Tsumiki's bubbly enthusiasm were reflections of the love and happiness you nurtured in their lives. It was a joy to witness how they cherished you, and he couldn't help but feel blessed to have such a loving family.

They were his world, and he was determined to make sure they knew it every single day. The love and warmth in their home were palpable, a testament to the bond they shared.

Satoru knew, without a doubt, that this was what mattered most—being together, supporting each other, and creating moments of happiness and love. It was all you deserved, and that realization made Satoru's heart swell with gratitude and affection for the family he cherished beyond measure.

You woke up to the sun streaming brightly through the windows, a gentle warmth filling the room. Surprised by how rested you felt, you stretched leisurely in bed before deciding to start your day. As you made your way through your home, a sense of calm settled over you, a stark contrast to the usual morning rush.

Entering the kitchen, you were met with a heartwarming scene that made your heart swell with love. Satoru stood at the sink, a baby strap securely fastened around him, gently swaying to a soft melody as he sang to Satoshi. The little bundle of joy in his arms giggled happily, tiny hands reaching out to playfully grab at Satoru's nose. It was a sight that melted away any lingering stress or fatigue from the day before.

Satoru glanced over his shoulder as he noticed you, a warm smile spreading across his face. He carefully set aside the dish he had been cleaning and moved to greet you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Good morning," he whispered softly, his voice filled with the tenderness reserved for moments like these.

You couldn't help but smile back, your heart swelling with love for the man who always managed to surprise you with his thoughtfulness. "Good morning," you replied, your voice laced with a mixture of awe and gratitude. "You've already done so much."

"I wanted to make sure you woke up to a peaceful morning," Satoru said, his gaze never leaving yours. "And now that you're here, we can enjoy it together."

You moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady and comforting, a reminder of the love that bound your family together.

"Thank you, ’toru." you murmured softly, your words carrying the weight of all the love and appreciation you felt.

Satoru pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his embrace tightening ever so slightly. "I love you, darling." he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

"I love you too, my love." you replied, your heart overflowing with happiness as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, grateful for the peaceful moments that made life so beautiful. “So much. You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to. You deserve to have a break and enjoy today, darling. You deserve it."

You leaned in and kissed him again, feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I don't deserve you. You’re so good to me, my love." you murmured against his lips.

Satoru chuckled, his arms wrapping around you. "It's me who doesn't deserve you, darling." he said softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

"Happy Valentine's Day." you whispered, your heart beating for him just as strongly as it did on the day you first fell in love.

You wish that all the years would be like this too.

You wish that you could just be this happy everyday.

And you know, Satoru wishes the same thing too.

2018

YOU COULD ONLY SIGH. It had been two months since Suguru's passing, and the grief weighed heavily on Satoru's shoulders. The loss of his friend and colleague, coupled with the memories of the events that led to Suguru's death, haunted him deeply. In an attempt to cope, Satoru abandoned his iconic Ryomen Sukuna bandages, which once symbolized his strength and resolve. Now, they served as a painful reminder of the sacrifices and difficult choices he had made.

Instead, he turned to light-sensitive dark glasses, a practical solution that shielded his sensitive eyes from the harshness of light. You observed him with a mix of compassion and concern, knowing how much he had endured. The headaches that came with his new eyewear only added to his burden, and you were determined to find ways to alleviate his discomfort.

Each day, you saw him struggle, his once vibrant energy tempered by moments of pain and fatigue. It pained you deeply to witness his suffering, knowing there was little you could do to ease the emotional weight he carried. Yet, your presence and unwavering support offered him a steady anchor in turbulent times.

One day, you decided to visit Shoko with Satoshi in tow. The atmosphere in Shoko's office was calming, the shelves lined with medical journals and the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. Satoshi, ever curious and energetic, was happily occupied with the marbles Shoko had graciously given him, rolling them around on the floor with childlike delight.

While Satoshi played, you took a moment to discuss Satoru's condition with Shoko. Sitting across from her, you felt a wave of relief knowing you could confide in someone who understood the complexities of sorcerer life and its toll on those like Satoru. Shoko, with her gentle demeanor and sharp intellect, listened attentively as you described Satoru's struggles since Suguru's passing.

"He's been finding it difficult to wear the Ryomen bandages," you explained softly, glancing over at Satoshi, who was absorbed in arranging the marbles into a pattern. "They remind him too much of what he had to do. So, he's been using the light-sensitive dark glasses instead."

Shoko nodded understandingly, her expression thoughtful. "It's not uncommon for Satoru’s six–eyes to develop sensitivities after intense situations, missions.” she mused, her brown eyes flickering with concern. "The emotional and physical strain can manifest in various ways. And right now, it’s truly emotional. I think you just have to be patient with him.”

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you shared your worries with Shoko. "I know….but it hurts to see him suffer like this, Sho. The headaches have been growing more frequent." you admitted, your voice tinged with concern. "I'm worried about how much it's affecting him."

Shoko offered a reassuring smile."I know. But right now, you can give him some space. He’ll come around to it and realize that he needs to give himself something to stop the headaches.”

You pondered for a moment, your lips pursed in contemplation. "Do you think... there's some material that could help with his Six Eyes? Something that might alleviate the strain?" you asked Shoko, your voice carrying a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Shoko considered your question thoughtfully, her expression thoughtful as she leaned back in her chair. "It's possible," she began slowly, her gaze thoughtful. "We could explore materials that are less abrasive on his sensory abilities. Perhaps something with a softer weave or a special enchantment that filters out excessive stimuli."

Encouraged by Shoko's supportive words, you felt a renewed sense of determination. Her acknowledgment of your care for Satoru reassured you that your efforts were worthwhile.

"Thank you, Shoko," you said sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude for her understanding and encouragement. "I'll do my best to make something that will really help him."

Shoko nodded with a reassuring smile. "Take your time, and don't hesitate to reach out if you need any assistance. I'm here to help in any way I can."

With a grateful nod, you bid farewell to Shoko and headed home, your mind already racing with ideas and plans. As you walked, Satoshi's cheerful babbling filled the air, a constant source of joy and motivation. You smiled warmly, his innocent excitement lifting your spirits even higher.

Suddenly, Satoshi stopped and pointed excitedly to a shop window. "Mama, here!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with enthusiasm as he tugged at your hand. You chuckled at his excitement, bending down to his level to see what had caught his attention.

You peered into the shop window and saw a display of colorful fabrics and various sewing supplies. Some of the fabrics were vibrant and eye-catching, while others were soft and gentle to the touch. Satoshi's small hand pointed to a bright blue fabric with tiny stars scattered across it, his excitement palpable.

"Good eye, Satoshi!" you praised him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "That's a beautiful fabric."

He grinned up at you, his excitement undiminished. "Papa will like it!"

"Yes, I think he will." you agreed with a smile, feeling a surge of determination to create something special for Satoru using the fabric Satoshi had chosen. “Good job, Satoshi!”

He grinned. “Satoshi–kun, the best!”

You looked at your son, his excitement contagious, and smiled. "You're so smart," you said, giving him a gentle pat on the head.

Flash forward to Valentine's Day. Satoru had made it a tradition to take the day off so that the two of you could celebrate together, and this year was no exception. As you stirred awake in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, you found Satoru in the kitchen, quietly preparing breakfast. His light-sensitive dark glasses were perched on his nose, a testament to the ongoing struggle with his heightened senses.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pancakes and strawberries, filling the air with a comforting warmth. Satoru turned to greet you with a soft smile as you entered the kitchen, his eyes tender as they met yours. Despite the exhaustion and challenges you both faced, his love and dedication never faltered.

"Good morning, darling," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I thought we could start the day with a special breakfast."

You couldn't help but smile back, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Satoru," you replied, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "It smells amazing."

As you sat down together at the table, the morning sun bathed the room in a golden glow, casting a warm hue over the cozy kitchen. The soft sounds of birds chirping outside added to the tranquil atmosphere, contrasting with the usual hustle and bustle of the day.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the tantalizing scent of pancakes filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop for your conversation. Everything about today was going to be good. You just know it. It always was, when you're with Satoru.

As you sipped your coffee, the warmth spreading through you, you began discussing your plans for Valentine's Day. Satoru listened attentively, his dark glasses reflecting the soft light from the window as he nodded in response to your suggestion.

"I was thinking," you started, setting your mug down gently on the table, "we should go to the zoo with Satoshi and Megumi, and then visit Tsumiki in the hospital."

Satoru considered your proposal, his expression thoughtful yet warm. "That sounds doable," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And then dinner together later?"

You nodded, returning his smile. "Yes, dinner together sounds perfect," you replied softly. "It'll be a wonderful day."

He grinned warmly at your remark about the plan for the day. The anticipation of spending time together as a family and celebrating the occasion filled the room with an air of excitement and joy.

"That sounds like a grand plan," Satoru said with enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling behind his dark glasses.

You returned his grin, feeling a warmth spreading through your heart. "Speaking of something grand," you began, your voice filled with affection, "I also have a gift for you."

His curiosity piqued, Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You didn't have to get me anything," he insisted gently.

"I wanted to," you replied softly, handing him a neatly wrapped box. "Open it."

Carefully, Satoru unwrapped the gift, his fingers moving deliberately over the wrapping paper. As he lifted the lid of the box, his eyes widened in genuine surprise and admiration. Inside lay an exquisitely crafted eye blindfold, made with intricate care and attention to detail.

"Satoru, I sewed it!" you explained, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "But Satoshi helped pick out the fabric, and Megumi tested it out. It's been blessed at the Mikoto Shrine by me. It's a family affair!"

He was speechless for a moment, his gaze fixed on the blindfold in his hands. The craftsmanship and thoughtfulness behind the gift touched him deeply. Slowly, he looked up at you, his cerulean eyes softening with deep emotion.

"You made this?" he asked, his voice filled with awe and gratitude.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. "I wanted you to have something special," you admitted softly, your heart fluttering with warmth at his reaction.

"Besides, I know it's hard to use the bandages now. And I just... I want you to have something that drives away the pain and helps you with your headaches."

Satoru set the blindfold down gently, his expression softening as he pulled you into a tender embrace. His arms wrapped around you securely. He doesn't want to ever let you go. Not in his entire life.

"Thank you, darling." he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. "You always know how to make me feel special."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. "You don’t have to thank me." you whispered, your voice tinged with emotion. "I love you. More than anything."

"I love you too, darling." Satoru replied softly, his words a gentle caress against your ear. His embrace tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go. “Always.”

You leaned into his embrace, your heart swelling with love for the man who meant everything to you. "Happy Valentine's Day, Satoru." you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

His embrace tightened briefly, a silent reassurance of his love and gratitude. "Happy Valentine's Day, my darling." he replied softly, his voice tinged with affection. "I love you more than words can express."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your home and the love that filled the air, you knew that this Valentine's Day would be one to remember—a day where your love for each other blossomed even brighter.

You looked forward to next year’s Valentine’s day.

You wanted to have the same joy and happiness.

You prayed that you and Satoru would have that.

epilogue

The day at the zoo was perfect. You, Satoru, and Satoshi wandered through the exhibits, enjoying the beautiful weather and the excitement in Satoshi's eyes as he marveled at the animals. Satoru wore the blindfold you had made for him, and you couldn't help but think how good he looked in it. The fabric was soft and stylish, and it seemed to suit him perfectly.

As you approached the ocean exhibit, you spotted Megumi making his way towards you. He had stayed at the dorms for his lessons but had managed to follow and catch up with you. You waved at him enthusiastically.

"Megumi!" you called out, hurrying over to him.

Megumi smiled shyly and allowed you to hug him. Then he bent down to scoop up Satoshi, who squealed with delight at the sight of his older brother. "Nii-chan!"

When Megumi finally set Satoshi down, he looked up and saw Satoru standing there with open arms, a playful grin on his face. "Megumi-yannnn, aren't you going to give me a hug too?"

Megumi's cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he tried to hide in his oversized uniform. He started laughing, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Huh!? Megumi, what's so funny?" Satoru asked, pretending to be offended.

Megumi shook his head, still chuckling, as he took a step back. "Nothing, nothing," he said, trying to stifle his laughter.

Satoru pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, be that way," he said, but his eyes were twinkling with mischief.

You watched the exchange with a warm smile, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Your family, despite all the challenges and hardships, had found moments of joy and connection. And in those moments, you knew that everything was going to be okay. As long as you were together, it always will be.

[alicerosejensen]

ha ha ha! Here's another portion of Papa Leon's headcanons. I hope to write more sad text, but so far only headcanons. This idea has been in my head for almost 10 days.

warning: Leon is a single dad; Loss of wife/girlfriend (S/O) due to zombie bite; The child is female; Leon's daughter is implied to be immune to viruses.

- When Leon found out that he would become a father, he was surprised, excited and very worried.

- He had long lost hope of starting his own family, but he was glad that he met you after China.

- You understood that the child meant the end of your relationship, but you also wanted a family, so having gathered all your will into a fist, you announced that you intended to leave the baby. Plus, you knew he still had feelings for Ada.

- It was painful and scary for you to admit it to him, but you had the strength to tell him about everything that had accumulated in your soul.

- Despite the fact that two people are involved in the conception, Leon does not have to bother with the duties of fatherhood. You yourself are raising YOUR son or daughter.

- This is what you said to him without even letting him utter a word.

- But Leon also wanted this child.

- There was a quarrel between you, the reason for which Leon did not understand. Yes, it will be hard, but he is ready to take responsibility for little Kennedy and whatever you think he loved you very much.

- There could be no question of any separation!Leon wants you to keep the baby, and if you mentioned abortion, he might flare up.

- So you were preparing to become parents together.

- During your pregnancy, Leon was very afraid that something could happen to you. He said the only weight you can carry is your baby. All the time while he was not distracted by work, he helped you get through the difficult time of pregnancy and read various literature himself. He also took some cute pictures of you talking and stroking your belly. He will definitely print them out later.

- You furnished the children's room, bought a crib and a lot of things. You were waiting for the doctor on the ultrasound to tell you the gender of the child.

- And when you did find out, you made Leon a kind of gift.

- The work of a government agent is dangerous and full of surprises, so no one knew about you and your child except for a narrow circle of people. Everything was strictly classified.

- But returning home from work, Leon heard you say that there was a present waiting for him on the table.

- A paper bag with a girly jumpsuit and a photo of an ultrasound with the caption on the back: Baby girl says hello to busy dad!

- Girl! Leon had already decided that she needed extra protection from future bullies.

- Everything was too wonderful that it began to seem like a sweet dream: he will soon become a father who will have the most beautiful daughter in the world. You will give him the family that Leon dreamed of for so long and was deprived of.

- You said there was nothing to worry about. There is still a whole month before the birth and that Leon will still have time to return to his girls, if he does not delay with his super secret mission.

- But Leon should have been worried.

- Because just two days after his departure, another outbreak occurred in the city that B.S.A.A and D.S.O did not have time to prevent. And the world is again flooded with zombies.

- You didn't even feel the first two bites when an infected shop visitor jumped on you while buying water. You pushed the zombie away by tearing it away from your hand, but he immediately knocked you to the floor, biting into your shoulder.

- By some miracle you managed to fight back. The only thing you were worried about was your daughter, so you struggled to your feet, holding your big belly, and got to the car to go home.

-People yelled and pounced on each other, biting into the throats and devouring the flesh. The sounds of an ambulance siren, police, and then shots were heard all over the streets ... You just wanted to get straight home along this crazy road, but you felt a sharp pain in the lower abdomen.

- Should I go straight to the hospital? You felt your seat getting wet, but despite the pain, blood and madness reigning, you still went to the original goal: home. The place where Leon will look for you first.

- You didn't close the door behind you. Tried but grappled with a distraught neighbor, who was also not averse to feasting on your flesh. You had no weapons, you were torn in half by hellish pain and your child... an innocent child should not die before being born. A loud volley of gunfire deafened you as Mrs. Jones stopped attacking you.

- And thick still warm blood stained your face and dress.

- It wasn't Leon. Ada.

- Seeing a lot of bites on you, including on your thigh, there was only one way out: put another bullet in the forehead, but you were pregnant. Ada wanted to find Leon, but found her (former?) friend's pregnant girlfriend.

- Leon would never forgive her for yours and the death of his unborn daughter. But damn it, you've been bitten at least three times already! Ada aimed the cannon and immediately lowered it when she heard pleas for help.

- Reluctantly, she helped you give birth, hoping that the child did not mutate into some kind of monster. But the room was filled with the usual cry of a child.

- But you already succumbed to infection: swollen black veins; pale gray skin and one eye began to become cloudy.

- "Do not tell anyone I ask you ..." - you croaked in a voice that was not your own, smiling terribly when Ada held your daughter. She quickly handed over the umbilical cord. - "Tell Leon she was born after my infection. She's not sick, I know."

- Ada wrapped the baby in swaddling clothes and reached for her gun again. The hand didn't shake when you asked her to kill you until the conversion happened. Ada fired, and you blood from your head splashed on the wall after which you fell to the floor forming a crimson puddle under you. The girl was screaming at the top of her lungs, but what she definitely didn't want was to mess with a newborn baby during an outbreak of the virus.

- But she couldn't leave the baby just like that, despite the fact that the original plan was to give Leon some information.

- All right, Kennedy girl, you better not turn into one of the critters.

- Ada took her away, making something like a sling for convenient carrying of the child, so that in parallel it was possible to defend.

- Maybe Ada should have waited for Leon at home, but it was too dangerous, especially since more infected people ran in somewhere on the ground floor.

- So she escaped through the second floor.

- Taking the penknife with which you fought off the zombies. Before the shooting, you asked Ada to give the knife to her daughter.

- "Plans have changed Leon" - Ada's voice came from Leon's earpiece. - "Meet me somewhere else and I have a little gift for you."

- But Leon's priority was his beloved with a child. What was the horror when he saw that the doors of the house were open wide and the moans of zombies could be heard from there. Leon dealt with them and together with his partner (it was Helena) went up to the second floor. But you weren't in the bedroom or in the bathroom. However, when Helena opened another room and went deep into it, she froze in place, losing all words, looking at your body.

- Helena noticed a few bites, but still your death was not a conversion, but a bullet in the head. Besides, it was clear from the huge traces of blood on your thighs that you had recently given birth. She barely forced her voice to be louder to call Leon, and when he immediately entered the room, the weapon fell out of his hands.

- "She's infected. Was infected…" - Leon wasn't listening. He picked you up in his arms, pressing your dead body to his chest. Now that he couldn't protect his family, he didn't care about anything. His beloved and his daughter, but Helena assured that the baby had clearly been born, because the umbilical cord was cut, and the baby was nowhere to be seen. - "We need to find the baby. Ada said you were supposed to meet at your house, but what if she took your baby?"

- "And put a bullet in his mother's head," Helena did not voice it out loud.

- With difficulty, but Helena gave her partner a goal to move forward despite all his heartbreak. Tears were streaming down Leon's cheeks and all he wanted was to put a bullet in himself. He. Didn't. Protect. You. This house was supposed to be your island of peace and love in which your daughter grew up, but it turned into another piece of hell.

- But he can still save his daughter!

- Therefore, when he met Ada at an abandoned station, his stomach dropped from the baby's crying. Ada was sitting on some old stool, almost like a mother, clutching someone else's child to her. However, without further ado, as soon as Leon broke into something similar to a rest room, she immediately said that he should drop the gun if he did not want to frighten his daughter even more.

- "Miss Kennedy herself" - Leon immediately took his daughter in his arms. Ada immediately realized that Leon knew what had happened at his house. "I'm sorry about what happened to her mother."

-There was an option to lie or tell the truth, given that this child's life depended on it. But Leon didn't seem to be listening anymore, but his partner was…

- "Relax," - but Helena remained tense. "She was born after her mother was bitten. I'm sorry, but I was too busy with the baby to protect your S/O. Of course, her mother did not feed her with her milk. I'm going to have to send you a bill for baby food and babysitting, Leon."

- In the end, Ada left as if nothing had happened, and Leon had to transfer the child to safe hands for the duration of the mission, but his thoughts were still confused.

_____________________________________________

- He had the idea to put his daughter in good hands. So that D/N has a full-fledged family, and not a loser father who could not protect her mother.

- D.S.O got into the situation and gave him a good vacation so that Leon could fix everything and find a kindergarten or a babysitter for his daughter. Actually, Hannigan, on her own initiative, offered several good options.

- If it wasn't for D/N, Leon would have preferred to get drunk in some bar, mourning his beloved, but he had to mess with diapers, baby food and put the baby to bed. And he coped abominably.

- Stomach cramps, newborn stubble with which he had no idea what to do… Leon was driven crazy by constant screams and he hardly slept until Claire came to the rescue.

- Being a free nanny and a good slap on the head for a dumb father, she took it upon herself to calm the D/N, and, to Leon's surprise, the child stopped crying pretty quickly.

- Claire sent Leon to a well-deserved rest and she cleaned up the house and took care of the baby. Leon found them in the evening in the bathtub where the baby was bathing, while Claire was shaking a rattle in front of her, talking funny.

- "She has your eyes. Did you know that?. And she'll grow up with pretty blonde hair."

- He smiled wearily as he watched D/N squeeze Claire's finger with a small hand.

- "I'm thinking of putting her in foster care."

-"You… WHAT?! - if not for the presence of the child, the younger Redfield would have cursed Kennedy with various obscenities. - "You're crazy! While some are risking their lives (a reference to Ethan - I adore him) for the sake of their children, you are like the last coward running away from the duty that has fallen on you! I know it's hard for you! Y/N died, but it's not your fault! No one is to blame for this, especially D/N, and you want to deprive her of her last loved one! Don't you dare do that, Leon! Or I'll put your stupid head in the toilet!

- Despite all the arguments that Claire considered as stupid as possible, she was really ready to dip Kennedy in the toilet, but she remembered about the baby and wrapped the girl in a towel, taking her to the room for later care: baby cream, tummy massage, a clean diaper for sleeping. Claire changed into a D/N ironed bodysuit and gently began rocking in her arms while she was preparing baby formula. Leon watched her actions, once again making sure that he was a shitty father.

- But is it right to give up your child by giving it to strangers? Claire made him think about his decision until he committed a fatal stupidity that he would regret for the rest of his life.

- And Leon has really put that decision aside for now. Thanks to Claire's advice, he began to cope better with the situation and fully blossomed when his baby girl smiled at him for the first time. Maybe she wanted to show her comfort in this way, but Leon literally shone like the brightest star.

- Actually, the older D/N got, the easier it was for him.

- Cartoons really save Papa Leon.

- Leon knows how to tie complicated knots and would also cope with the first pigtails.

- Claire still helps him a lot and they often go for walks in the park together. Being a single father is difficult but real.

- Alas, Claire also devotes herself to TerraSave, so Leon's daughter often stays with a well-tested nanny (Hannigan and Leon took care of this together). Yes, it's a big expense, but Leon has no problems with money.

- Leon buys his baby coloring books, various books, pencils and markers so that she does not get too sad in his absence.

- The new house is littered with all possible toys. D/N loved dinosaurs the most. Leon thought it was a temporary hobby, but all the dolls were quickly forgotten when his baby had an allosaurus given to Claire.

- Now baby Kennedy has a love only for all possible kinds of dinosaurs. Even bed linen and pajamas.

-"This is all temporary," - Leon told himself, handing his daughter a recently purchased toy. This time Velociraptor.

- Good. At least the girl is busy watching some kind of documentary about dinosaurs while her dad calmly cooks dinner.

- And Leon had to learn to cook, because no one else does it for him (maybe sometimes Claire).

- Maybe Leon doesn't always manage to be a good dad, but he tries for the sake of his baby and really scolds himself for thinking that he once wanted to give her to another family.

- Leon is definitely not getting married and D/N will be his only child. He will have one-night stands, but it will never happen at his house. The only woman he really loved was you, but now he only has a daughter left.

- Claire is still only his friend (I only see them as friends, sorry). A friend who helped him get up from his knees when he was depressed by your death and wanted to give up the child.

- Actually, she visits the Kennedy house quite often and can be considered to some extent a mom for D/N.

- Leon does not know that his daughter was born when you were already bitten three times, which is why doctors tell him about the high ESR in the blood D/N. No one understands what's going on because the girl behaves quite normally and feels pretty good.

- Some kind of anomaly. Maybe these indicators persist due to frequent colds?

- Because gradually they decrease, however, never to the norm.

- Frequent trips to the doctor have already become a routine with which he has come to terms. In the end, without noticing that something was wrong with his daughter, these tests were halved.

- When D/N grows up, it will be much easier for him to cope. The Kennedy family cleans the house together, or the Pumpkin (as Leon calls it) helps to cook (chop carrots or stir soup in a saucepan, add a little seasoning, but everything is under strict control). In addition, Leon tries to teach her to be independent, but it is difficult for him to do this because he constantly wants to spoil her so that she is happier.

- Leon keeps all drawings and children's crafts in a special cabinet in his desk. However, there are a couple of drawings on the refrigerator on a magnet.

- He can't always attend children's events where his daughter performs, but he tries to make up for lost time when he returns home.

- Sometimes he falls asleep with his daughter watching TV. When D/N falls asleep, he will take her to bed without waking her up. And be sure to turn on the night light (with a dinosaur).

- Leon doesn't mind if the girl runs to him at night, because she had a terrible dream. Leon knows all about nightmares, so let her stay close and tell some kind stories so that she calms down and falls asleep again.

- Someday D/N will want to know something about his mom, but for Leon this is always a closed topic. He won't tell anything except that you were a wonderful person and loved her very much.

_____________________________________________

And now the teenage period (D/N 13 years old) .

- The topic of mom is forbidden.

- Perhaps due to the frequent absence of her father, the girl has a bit of a rebellious character, but she does nothing to cause problems for her dad.

- On her birthday, D/N found a small box under the door. Thinking that it was Dad who sent the gift, he and Claire quickly started unpacking, but inside there was a rather elegant folding knife that looked very expensive. And a short note: "Your mom asked me to give you this. I think you're old enough for such a gift. Happy birthday, young Miss Kennedy."

- Claire turned pale when she saw a familiar object and a strange note. Leon would never send that. But the girl was thrilled to get something that had to do with her mother.

- Leon did not comment on the gift at all, but he recognized the handwriting on the note. He didn't want to spoil his daughter's mood, especially since he was late for her birthday, but the next questions began to annoy him.

-"Who was she? Also a secret agent? Did she save the world from bad guys? Look what an awesome knife! My mom must have been really cool! Maybe her partner gave me a gift?"

- Leon tried not to get angry, but the fucking knife still made him flare up. He quarreled with his daughter and immediately got a scolding from Claire when D/N ran to room. He understood that you can't be angry with a child who just wants to know something about his mother, but Leon never let go of that situation.

- He definitely needs to apologize to his daughter.

- As an additional gift, Leon, after a long conversation with his pumpkin, will eventually give her your photo. One of the few that he was able to keep.

- And ask not to play with a knife because it's not a toy.

- I think Leon's daughter likes to play guitar and her favorite song is "Wayfaring stranger"

- Therefore, a new guitar (exactly the one she wanted for so long) will be a gift from her beloved dad.

- Dinosaurs are still the most beloved creatures, why can we have a pet dinosaur?

- But in order to finally win his daughter's heart, he takes her to the dinosaur museum on a day off. Of course they will take Claire with them - she has long been an unspoken member of their family.

- And in the evening, the three of them will sit down to watch her favorite movie with a delicious dinner, which they will order from the restaurant at home.

- D/N is more like you - her mother-but her eyes and hair color are from her father.

- You knew that she would grow up beautiful and become even more beautiful with growing up. Before you died, you were sorry that you would never see it.

- Leon is calm when his daughter likes famous guys from these series and movies. However, the cardboard king from some movie that stands next to the bed began to confuse him

- "Come on Leon! Many girls love sugary boys." - Claire laughed, finding it funny. - "Wait until she starts going on real dates."

- Well he has a DSO database for that.

- In fact, Leon finds it soothing when his daughter is in her room playing the guitar while trying to sing at the same time.

- She still has bad blood tests with elevated ESR and leukocytosis, and Leon really doesn't understand what's going on, given that there is no malaise.

- Leon's weapon is always kept in a safe under a combination lock, however, when he forgot it one day on his desk after returning home, D/N wanted to support him in his hands admiring how cool it is but at the same time heavy.

- Of course Leon was scared when he saw his daughter with a gun in her hands and ordered her to put it back immediately.

-"Let me shoot!" - she said when she watched her father put things in the safe. - "I want to be like these guys with guns from movies. There was one Yakuza who had such an awesome gun with a pattern! Da-ad?"

- "No!"

- The password could not be peeped. And the birthday didn't come up either. But D/N got a scolding when she climbed into her father's office without permission, trying to get his gun.

- The restless child does not want to shoot herself or her neighbors at all, she just watches too many militants, believing that shootings are cool.

- Leon doesn't comment on it at all, considering what's going on at his job. But when pumpkin says that she will work with him after she finishes school, she can't stand this long hard look from her father.

- Maybe Leon really should teach her how to shoot and use a knife, but the thought that someday she might need it scares him. It's easier for Leon to keep his daughter in the safest place away from all this virus-parasitological shit.

- But still, after much persuasion, it brings her to the shooting range and even shows you how to hold and shoot correctly.

- Oh, it's a delight! She hit the target a couple of times and already considers herself the best shooter. But Papa Leon still praises her even for these two successful shots.

- "If the apocalypse happens, then I can watch your back!. I will make such a drawing in the form of a poster where we are next to each other against the background of a green world freed from people".

- Leon can't help but smile. This blonde-haired miracle is the only thing that really makes him happy. Therefore, even talking about the apocalypse does not cause anything but laughter.

- And if there's another outbreak, Leon will be Joel saving his Ellie. Even if him have to go against the government.

_____________________________________________

I'm a little sick, I have a lot of debts at the same time, but I like the topic of "father-daughter" relationships so much… Fuck, I also passed the "Last of Us again", and God, like the first one, I'm crying at the moment where Joel saves Ellie (I think he did the right thing and no one will dissuade me from this)

Now I literally want to write and read about "Leon and his daughter". Because this guy would do anything to protect his little pumpkin.

I will definitely make a couple more posts on this topic later. Maybe even a full-fledged fan fiction with an already invented name for his daughter (her name is Lara, yeah).

I love everyone who reads this and he likes it 💖

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Non-smut Vol 1

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist | Vol 2

Hi friends! Sometimes we want fics that are SFW or we just want to make ourselves sad or we need a little pick me up. I'm here with a list of fics that have no (explicit) smut as of posting! They may have smutty thoughts or mild allusions to smut, but those are marked in the warnings!

I know, me, posting non-smut fics.... but they deserve love too! Note that while many of these are rated T, they are posted on blogs that are 18+ so MDNI <3

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Updated 5/24/2024

Whiskey, Dark and Deep - Jack - @prolix-yuy

Summary: In the short time you’ve known Jack Daniels, he’s disappointed you three times. Warnings: M, violence, blood, injuries, gunfights, so so so much yearning, full on cowboy tropes.

A bearable weight - Javi G - prolix-yuy

Summary: New Years Eve is the holiday of new beginnings, and you take a leap to see if Javi might be one of them. Story Warnings: T, plenty of sweetness, more ridiculousness because I can’t help myself, some lightly spicy kisses.

One Hundred and Fifty Seven - Din - @theidiotwhowritesthings

Summary: Din fakes his death for some reason. They leave reader behind thinking he’s dead. Months go by and he returns but reader is like super not okay. Say she’s been super into spice because then she can see Din when she’s high. Anyway, happy ending but loooots of angst please! Also, can it be a bit between him returning and reader being okay with him being back?” Warnings: angst with happy end, drug use, drug addiction, mentions of death, brief canon violence, self loathing, anxiety, self doubt, boba adopts reader b/c i couldn’t resist

In an instant - Joel - @mishasminion360

Summary: Happy Birthday, Joel Miller... Warnings: Um…..😳🙄 (ed. note: I hate to spoil the story, but since this list is intented to help people avoid triggers, I must; Major Character Death (reader), angst, loss of pregnancy)

It would be - Din - @fuckyeahdindjarin

Summary (aka prompt I gave myself): ‘It would be easier if you just married him.’ Warnings: angst, jealousy, fighting, pining, yearning, no use of Y/N

Just Keep Breathing - Javi P - @swiftispunk

Summary: javi finds it harder and harder to keep up with the more physical aspects of his job. reader offers him some love and words of comfort. warnings etc: BODY REPRESENTATION <3 (reader is described as having thicker thighs, a belly, and crow’s feet), smoking + smoking related health issues, hurt/comfort, back massages, fluff, angst, bein in ur 30s/40s, established relationship. probably bad spanish (please correct me). NO USE OF Y/N.

Every Pilot Needs a Wingman - Frankie - @kikis-writing-world

Summary: You have been pining quietly over your neighbor for months. He hasn’t noticed, but apparently his friend has… Warnings: Smutty thoughts - grey sweatpants should be their own warning. Fleeting mentions of masturbation and sex toys. Swearing. Santi gives the reader tips on how to impress/pick up Frankie, I don’t know if that might come off as shady or triggering to people so I want to mention that.

A girl walks into a bookshop - Ezra - @oonajaeadira

Summary: Set a couple of years after the events of the film. Ezra owns a bookshop. You walk in. Warnings: The coziest, softest romance. They do work up to intimacy, but it is sequestered in it’s own chapter–the “Interlude”–which can be skipped without losing any of the story. 

Breathe Through It - Joel - @tommysversion

Summary: you have a panic attack. Joel helps. Warnings: Descriptions of mental health conditions (namely PTSD, but can be read as any anxiety based disorder with panic attacks) / graphic description of a panic attack / some adult language/ references to past trauma (nothing explicitly described but inferred).

A kiss before dying and in death we combine - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: When Joel becomes infected, you make the decision not to leave him alone. Warnings: Blood and wounds. Bodily character death. Loss. Love that hurts. Sex of course, but blurred to the edges. Playing fast and loose with the cordyceps and how fast it grows.

102 - Frankie - @tieronecrush

summary: every week, you and frankie meet up at the same spot at the same time to catch-up and share a coffee. you’ve been his best friend for years. through thick and thin, always there. thing is, frankie’s been in love with you for nearly as long as he’s known you and hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you. warnings: no use of Y/N, post-film timeline, au where frankie doesn’t have a kid, use of pet names (solecita, mi mejor), high school level spanish (mostly swear words), unrequited love, self deprecation, alcohol use/drunkenness, smoking

Safe in my arms - Ezra - mishasminion360

Summary: Ezra harbors a secret hatred for his absent arm, but his feelings come to a head when his newly acquired handicap fails to do the one task he vowed never to fail in: keep you safe from harm. Warnings: Language; light angst; feelings of insecurity; body dysmorphia; brief allusions to smut; hurt/comfort; fluff.

Leave Off Your Wandering - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: An area native, long-term resident and shepherd in Jackson, you prefer quiet and isolation and the company of sheep. It seems this new resident Joel Miller and his young ward might share your interests. Warnings: M (possible canon violence and language. most likely non-explicit sex further down the line.) (ed. note; no smut as of chapter 2)

Peace - Joel - swiftispunk

summary: jackson era, post-tlou. you and joel discuss what it means to die. warnings: angst and fluff, discussions of death and dying, discussions of sex but nothing too explicit, age difference implied but not specified (joel is older than you but the number of years is not relevant), established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

This is me trying - Joel/Ellie platonic!! - swiftispunk

summary: jackson. a flashback on a film reel sparks a memory. joel tells ellie how it feels. warnings: angst, discussions of child loss, discussions of grief and death, ig fluff

Epiphany - Joel - @jksprincess10

Summary: Your new neighbor is a war veteran with a lot of scars. (1k words) Warnings: AU where Joel is in the military, age gap, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, allusions to smut, suicidal thoughts, sad ending. Beware!! 

Significant - Din - softlyspector

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for. Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end

A pile of cards - Javi P - @undercoverpena

summary: it’s become a tradition. he presents you with a birthday card so you can collect his words, while he collects the expressions you share as you read them. warnings: javi through the seasons, narcos season two/three spoilers. cute, fluff. happy ending.

Fire - Din - jksprincess10

Summary: None Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, this is pretty short, mando still has the crest, canon divergent.

Honeyed - Joel - softlyspector

Summary: You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel. Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse, tattoos and getting tattooed (the reader only has one tattoo that is described in any detail), description of a past abusive relationship and a bad experience getting tattooed, insecurity, anxiety, loneliness, implied undefined past trauma with men, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this, you can decide if this is game joel or show joel

The Art of Healing - Marcus Pike - @northernbluess

Summary: Marcus Pike was feeling lost—unfulfilled and unmoored. After a failed marriage, heartbreak courtesy of his ex-fiancée and relocating to D.C., Marcus knew that he needed more than the FBI. Seven years later, Marcus has traded in Special Agent for Doctor and is now a clinical psychologist specialising in art therapy. He combines his two loves of art and psychology, spurred on by his experience in art crimes, FBI psych courses and his own time in therapy. Josephine is referred to Dr Pike, having just been discharged from treatment for an eating disorder. While Dr Pike is fresh to his new career, he is knowledgeable, warm, kind and attentive. Over time, as she bares her soul to him, he falls for her and the bond between them ties both their heads in knots. As her therapist he knows it’s wrong but he begins to feel incapable of separating his feelings from his work. Before long neither can truly live without the other — if only she knew that. Warnings: (warnings will be specified in each individual chapter, however, please read these carefully) Art Therapist!Marcus Pike, eating disorder, therapy, mentions of disordered eating patterns, hurt/comfort, slow burn, lots of pining and tension, angst, age gap, strained familial relationships, so much softness and feelings, eventual smut (ed. note: no smut as of chapter 5 and worth the read up to that point)

The Man That I Love - Joel - @lumoverheaven

Summary: None (ed. note: Joel is an idiot who doesn't know what he has until he almost loses it). Warnings: None (ed. note: angst)

Not Strong Enough - Joel - @beskarandblasters

Summary: Fem!Reader and Joel are in an established relationship, having met shortly after the events in Kansas City. They’re living in Jackson, Wyoming together, post Salt Lake City with Ellie. Things are going well until an incident happens during patrol and Joel questions whether or not he’s good enough. Written in third person. Warnings: angst, feeling inadequate, canon types of violence, swearing, bar fight, Joel is an asshole :/

Do You Love Me - Dieter - me

Summary: here is a fluffy (by my standards) little drabble in the A Ghost of You universe. Can be read standalone Warnings: There's just some kissing and no mentions of anything bad because I'd never do anything bad to D, would I?

Thunder Buddies - Joel - me

Summary: Joel comforting reader who is scared of thunderstorms Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, Joel being adorable, cuddling, cuteness, a distinct lack of angst or smut - which is really weird coming from me.

Wash Day - Marcus P - @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: Some completely self-indulgent romantic fluff about Marcus Pike washing your hair. Warnings: none

Personal Best - Marcus P - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: This picture of Pedro holding a dog inspired me to write a fluffy meet-cute for Marcus Pike & Reader. I'm feeling 90s romantic comedy vibes, I don't know if I'll write anything more on this but we'll see if people like it. Warnings: none

Context and Perspective - Marcus M - @elvenmother

Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood

A Very Furby Christmas - Joel - @proxima-writes

Summary: it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect. well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months. turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town. Warnings: pre-outbreak, no use of y/n, holiday/christmas fic, the last toy trope, no smut, age gap - not explicitly specified but joel is 31 and reader is mid-20s, the great miller gingerbread construction competition, operation get sarah miller a furby, some kissing.

The Haunting of Dieter Bravo - Dieter - @idolatrybarbie Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are." Warnings: referenced substance abuse, mentions of alcohol, dieter is sober, one song-based joke (please get it plsplspls), reader is gender neutral, a good ol' haunting tale.

The Locksmith - The Thief - oonajaeadira

Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack. Warnings: reader is an adult, reader is AFAB, no physical descriptions of reader

A Piece of Cake - Frankie - idolatrybarbie

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen Frankie Morales. Warnings: Angst, discussion of addiction, mentions of cocaine, alcohol consumption, bowling

The Parents That Are Left - Joel - @frenchiereading

Summary: There weren't many patrol partners Joel Miller tolerated: his brother and Iris. On a cold January day, Joel pays her mother a visit and finds out you can bond over anything. Unfortunately. Warnings: canon-typical violence and language, heavy angst, talks/mentions/descriptions of death and dead bodies, heavy discussions/thoughts of feelings/grief/guilt, suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumption, Jackson-era Joel, no reader, no y/n, OFC, not a single ounce of romance

For the Love of Horror - Dieter - @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist

Summary: Dieter and you watch a scary movie. Warnings: No use of y/n, horror movies, euphemisms, fluff, suggestive language

Stages of Grief - Joel - @bonezone44

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it. Warnings: Gender neutral reader, familial trauma, angst, grief, neglect, trauma, childhood emotional/physical abuse

The Riding Lesson - Jack - @bluestar22x

Summary: When you are hired at a ranch as a trail guide, the owner asks the foreman to teach you how to ride Western style. Warnings: Suggestive thoughts, sexual tension, equestrian terms

Frankie and Din - Frankie/Din - @avastrasposts

Summary: a one-shot with our favourite pilot, sweet Frankie and our favourite space boy, broody Din based on the line; "Go on then, space boy, fly this.” Warnings: none

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: The only thing that can get rid of a minor jerk is a major jerk. Warnings: Non-consensual attention (not Max), stalker behavior (when there’s trouble, Max always seems to be watching from nearby), vampire violence.

It's always been you - Dieter - @alwaysmicado

Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy

John Wayne - Joel - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: twenty years after the world ended, you find yourself face to face with Tommy Miller. The brother of the man who was your boyfriend at the time of the outbreak. Warnings: talk of attempted suicide, child loss, grief, angst

illicit affairs - Joel @chaotic-mystery

Summary: it’s my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it. Warnings: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n.

Stay Close to Me - Jack - @alwaysbethewest

Summary: You're a rookie agent sent to work undercover with Jack as a married couple!Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! Warnings: A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU.

To Know the Light - Din - @burntheedges

Summary: to go in the dark with a light is to know the light. Warnings: fluff, a teensy bit of angst, introspection, winter, food mention, reader has no description, gn!reader

O, Christmas Tree - Dieter - @covetyou

Summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many? Warnings: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness.

In Fiction - Dieter - @sin-djarin

Summary: Dieter comes to bed. Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of self doubt, no physical description of reader, no dialogue, no use of y/n.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York - @brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Warnings: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Cocoon - Joel - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Warnings: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described)

Home - Frankie - @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Warnings: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Negotiations - Max Phillips - prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Warnings: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra - @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Warnings: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Caught Kissing Santa - Dave York - @wildemaven

Summary: Alice saw you kissing Santa Claus Warnings: reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

Unwind - Dieter - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter helps you unwind when you get your period after an already long day. Warnings: established relationship, reader menstruates, drug use (marijuana), reference to past drug use, reference to bad horror movies, Dieter being our favorite trash panda, sweet, fluff, domesticity

One Night - Marcus P - secretelephantattoo

Summary: You get one night with Marcus Pike. Warnings: Implied/referenced smut but nothing is explicitly described. Smoking and alcohol. Angst because they only have one night together. Marcus is a flirty menace. House party nostalgia. Heavy petting in a stairwell

Lovesick - Joel - prolix-yuy

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long. Warnings: descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use, no actual smut

---------------------------------

Happy Reading!

[atomsminecraft]

Gurl can you try to do a Guy x MC angst?

Ah shit I was suppose to post this 30 minutes ago but I got distracted mb

Anyways 😃

Yes.

Have fun everyone 😇

Gone

——————————

Trigger warning: Pregnancy and pregnancy loss

——————————

It has been four months since discovering I was pregnant. Four months of baby and pregnancy books, people putting pressure on me to give birth to an heir, and people focusing a little too much on what I eat and my weight gain. Nothing could be better though.

Guy has been surprisingly helpful—with the help of Jasper of course. Honestly even without him, he’s been very attentive to me; making sure I eat healthy, going with me on walks, helping me pick out baby clothes, helping pick baby furniture, and so much more. Honestly life is amazing, I wouldn’t change it for the world, and this baby will make things even better.

At the moment, me and Guy are on a settee. My head is on his shoulder while he has a hand on my stomach. “Did you feel it yet?” I ask.

Guy shakes his head with a sigh. “Not yet.” I hum in response and I put one hand over his and the other on my belly.

“The baby was so active not too long ago. I’m sure they’ll kick soon.” We stay in silence for a small bit, with Guy slightly tickling my stomach by moving his thumb back and forth. “Oh!” My eyes widen as I suddenly feel a feather-light sensation within me. Guy must have felt it too because he has a similar expression of surprise on his face. We look at each other and smile. “I told you you’ll feel it!”

Guy leans in closer to my stomach and gives my stomach a kiss, seemingly causing the baby to kick more. Guy’s face looks like he’s almost in a trance, feeling and looking at my belly with such love and admiration. I smile at his loving gaze at my stomach. “I can’t wait to raise this baby with you,” I say gently.

Guy goes back to a normal sitting position and takes my hand to his lips, kissing it. “I reciprocate the feeling.” He then leans in and gives me a kiss, one which I of course reciprocate in turn.

~~~~

Music and dancing fill the hall as the dancers spin and twirl. A week ago we were formally invited to a party from a noble household. After being cooped up in Avari castle for so long, I had to literally beg Guy to let us go. He of course caved once I brought in the pregnancy tears. Another battle won, haha!

The music is honestly so good I cannot help but sway back and forth to it. I feel a warm hand take mine and I look up at Guy. “Do you want to dance?”

I can practically feel the metaphorical stars in my eyes as I nod. “Yes! I would love to!” He smiles at my excitement and leads me to the dance floor. The dance is slow and sensual, a musical rhythm that is almost addicting.

Even as the song ends a few minutes later, I am still left with a feeling of lightness as the music continues to play the rhythm in my head. Guy hands me some juice and I thank him before taking a sip. Mmmm this is so nice! The cold ice floating on the top cools my hot face.

Before I even know it, I suddenly get bumped into by a young gentleman, who quickly prevents me and my drink from falling by grabbing onto me and my drink. “Oh creator! My apologies!” The man quickly hands me back my drink that he prevented from falling to the ground and does a quick bow. “I sincerely hope I didn’t harm you, please forgive me….!”

Guy glares at the man and pulls me close. “You better be careful,” he says coldly.

“Guy, I’m alright!” He doesn’t respond and just continues to glare at the man. The gentlemen apologies again before running off past us.

I take another sip of my drink, enjoying the bubbly feeling. I find that the ice has somewhat sunk to the bottom, giving me a better opportunity to get more drink from my cup and less ice trying to get into my mouth. Guy’s hand is perched on my stomach, practically holding the baby inside it. I put my hand over his, enjoying the moment. The baby slightly kicks, which brings even more joy to the moment.

A few noblemen and noblewomen come up to talk to us. Simple small talk fills our time as those who wish to speak to us come forward. I get many congratulations on my pregnancy too, which I am very happy to show off with the small bump of my stomach.

Some time passes and Jasper walks up to us. “Your Majestys, the carriage is ready.” We, well I, thank him as Guy grunts in acknowledgment and Jasper goes off to get our coats.

“Did you enjoy your time here?” Guy asks. I smile and nod.

“Thank you for bringing us here. I honestly missed socializing with others. It felt refreshing coming to a ball after so long.” Guy nods in acknowledgment and starts leading me to the exit. It has been such a good couple of months. Five more and we’ll be happy parents to our adorable ba—!

My legs give out as I feel a stabbing pain in my stomach. Guy holds onto me, preventing me from falling, as I hold onto my stomach for dear life. “What’s wrong?!” I can only curl into myself as I hold onto my belly as the pain heightens. I squeeze my eyes shut as I attempt to breathe. Guy’s hold on me tightens. I open my eyes only to regret it as I see a giant puddle of blood around me, which only gets bigger within every passing second.

Oh.

Oh god.

Oh my god…!

No no no no no!

The floor feels unsteady as I feel myself sway. Air can’t seem to get into my lungs fast enough. There’s yelling then soon a calm yet shaky voice talking to me. I can only stare at the blood pooling around me.

I honestly don’t remember what happens after. Only that the ground seemed to swallow me whole as a pair of arms held onto me.

~~~~

“I’m so sorry, Queen MC. There’s nothing I can do…” says the healer. “The poison was too far into the babies body to be able to save it.”

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL MY BABY AN IT!” I yell. I grip onto the red bed sheets, hoping it could stop my crying. I can’t even look the healer in the eyes, only at me and Guy’s joined hands.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean…!”

“Leave. Now.” I command. I’m honestly surprised I even have the energy to be angry. I can hear the footsteps of the healer before he leaves the room.

It was deduced that the man who bumped into me put something in my juice once he bumped into me, taking advantage of my glass almost falling to the floor. An investigation was set out to find him.

I’m gonna be the one to kill that man first if I ever see his face again.

Me and Guy continue to stay in silence, both of us too distraught to say anything.

I feel myself zone out. Thoughts drowned my head. I’m such a horrible mother. I couldn’t even save my baby because of my own eagerness to go to one last party before my feet hurt too much to walk. This is karma. That has to be it. This is a punishment for not being careful enough.

I barely even notice the tears falling onto the blanket and my hand. Guy pulls me into a hug as I cry, not saying anything.

Even as the days pass, I haven’t had it in me to talk or move much. Guy stays with me whenever he can once work is done. Jasper keeps my company when he’s not around.

The monster who has done this has yet to be found.

My baby is gone. And it was all my fault.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: no, you're not seeing things, again. my anti went ahead and took it upon themselves to flag something that is SFW as m*ture so tumblr has forcibly labeled and hidden it. i've already put in the appeal, but tumblr has yet to remove the community labels from the appeals i've won; therefore, i have no faith in them. reposting so hopefully it find the people who loved it. the original can be found on my masterlist, not likely to pop up in the tag. reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up.