#where his first words upon seeing his newborn son are “My word he's ugly!”—truly an inspirational man!

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”

[twoprides]

bury me face down / nie mingjue & nie huaisang / rated g / 1704 words 

Nie Mingjue didn't sign up for this, and part of him was still in disbelief that their father trusted him enough to keep Nie Huaisang safe. At first glance, the toddler looked like a mewling newborn, complaining about tiredness after hardly fifteen minutes of walking. After an hour, he was practically in tears, and what was supposed to be a productive training session ended before he could even pick up his saber. Going back, of course, the brat absolutely refused to walk on his own. 

Twenty minutes of crying later that'd thoroughly aggravated Nie Mingjue to the point of just leaving him there, Nie Huaisang had somehow found his way onto his back. With no room for his saber, Nie Mingjue had to strap it to his waist, the weapon practically dragging on the ground as he made up for lost time with a brisk pace. At some point, he must've fallen asleep, and the realization only served to exacerbate his sour mood.

"Nie Huaisang," he called, turning his head slightly to glance halfway across his shoulder. "Nie Huaisang! If you drool on my robes, I will string you up by your ankles when we return and flay you alive."

His voice was loud enough to startle the birds a few trees over but apparently not enough to wake the infant (or he was feigning sleep) who simply tightened his grip around Nie Mingjue's neck and snuggled further into his back. Nie Mingjue spent the next ten minutes swearing up and down that this was the last time he ever did anything for the boy or took him anywhere. It was never his choice, anyway. 

You could tell a bad apple from the seed, and Nie Huaisang fell embarrassingly short of their sect's standards. Young as he may have been, it still wasn't an excuse for always taking the easy way out. As soon as he encountered any difficulties, his wide eyes looked to either his mother or their father for assistance. He showed no interest in anything related to cultivation, the sect, or saber training, and any time Nie Mingjue happened upon him, he was running around doing who knows what.

But their father seemed shockingly complacent, leaving Nie Huaisang to his caretakers and allotting comparatively more time to Nie Mingjue's own training. He didn't mind, of course, but truth be told, he didn't really need the attention. Unlike Nie Huaisang, he didn't need anyone coddling or directing his efforts to know where they belonged. As they neared the Qinghe Nie residence, Nie Mingjue slowed and jostled the toddler splayed across his back. 

"Nie Huaisang," he repeated, tone flat and harsh. 

The return trip with dead weight hadn't hindered him much, but spending so long with nothing but his own thoughts and the saber spirit at his side had him feeling meaner by the second. Just as he was about to bark at Nie Huaisang again, light laughter redirected his attention to the pagoda a little ways off. They'd reentered the grounds when he hadn't been paying attention, and now Nie Huaisang's mother was laughing at him. He bristled, less embarrassed than he was irritated.

"My, my," she called from her seat, a smile hidden behind the sheer black-and-gold of her sleeve, "You two are certainly getting along."

"Who's getting along with whom," Nie Mingjue immediately spat, the words coming out more venomous and discourteous than he intended. "Nie Huaisang! Get down!"

When the boy didn't respond, Nie Mingjue simply loosened his arms and let him drop. Nie Huaisang scrambled at the release of support too quickly for him to have been truly asleep, which Nie Mingjue suspected, but not quickly enough to avoid falling on his ass. And as soon as he did, he was crying again in an open-mouthed wail that would've prompted Nie Mingjue to draw his saber threateningly if they weren't before his mother. His loud cries even startled the two female servants at her side, but Nie Mingjue was used to Nie Huaisang's pity-seeking, and the boy's mother only sighed good-naturedly as she stood from her bench.

She was at Nie Huaisang's side in the blink of an eye, scooping him up in her arms with soft cooing. "There, there, you're alright. No more crying."

"Mother! Mother, he's so mean to me!" Nie Huaisang hiccoughed, sounding so miserable you'd think Nie Mingjue had really done something to him. His little, red face was scrunched up with tears and snot, so ugly Nie Mingjue didn't bother passing him a second glance. "He made me w-walk all the way there! All, all the way there!"

"Yes, yes," she answered in a placating tone, patting the boy's back soothingly as she swayed where she stood. "But he also carried you back, didn't he?"

Nie Mingjue only hmph'd in response and brushed past the both of them into the shade of the pagoda. He hadn't noticed while he was walking, but the sun's rays were strong that day, such that he'd developed a sheen of sweat across his brow. His clothing felt slightly damp as well. One of the servants made to pour him some tea, but he halted her progress with a raised hand. "Cold water," he demanded, and she acquiesced with a quick bow.

It was a few more minutes before Nie Huaisang calmed down, Nie Mingjue having set Bàxià across the stone table and already finished his drink. He was preparing to leave when soft footsteps and sniffling reentered the pavillion. Nie Mingjue angled his body to acknowledge his step-mother who seemed unfazed by the "rough" treatment he'd shown her son.

"A-Sang, be a good boy and sit for a moment, will you?" she asked. Before she could set him down completely, he made a grab for the collapsed fan in her hand, tugging at it incessantly until she laughed and gave it up. Nie Mingjue watched the brief exchange with a deeply inset frown but refrained from commenting.

"A-Jue," she started, taking the empty water cup before him and passing it to the servant in a silent gesture to refill, "Be patient with A-Sang. You know he's not like you or your father."

Nie Mingjue couldn't help scoffing at the sentiment. Oh, he knew that very well, but it still wasn't grounds for letting him do whatever he wanted. Rather than voice these thoughts, however, he returned, "I won't be taking him along with me anymore. He's useless and has no interest. What's the point?" Did they think he would succeed where their father and caretakers were failing?

The woman opposite him smiled again, her youthful face showing none of the ferocity that he occasionally saw when she accompanied them on night hunts. If he hadn't seen it firsthand, he wouldn't have believed her level of cultivation to be as high as they said, but afterward he had no further objections to his father's new bride.

"Perhaps his age is too young to be of assistance to you, but A-Jue, there is a considerable age gap between you and A-Sang. Is it wrong to spend time together to strengthen your relationship?"

"There's no need," Nie Mingjue quickly replied, determined not to let a sniffling brat drag him down any further. "There's plenty of time for that in the future," he amended when he saw her expression slightly wane.

Sighing, she watched him take a sip from his newly refilled water before shaking her head. "You and your father are really quite similar. But I'm sure you'll come to see the benefits of having a sibling." Her hand reached out to caress the crown of Nie Huaisang's head who was currently opening and closing the fan with abandon, probably breaking it. "He may seem like a burden to you now, but in the future, you may very well end up relying on him."

Nie Mingjue just barely refrained from snorting. He doubted that very much. The reverse was far more likely.

"Right, A-Sang?" she asked.

Nie Huaisang, who hadn't seemed to be listening, immediately chirped, "He's so mean and scary, I'm not doing anything for him!"

Nie Mingjue shot him such a menacing glare that Nie Huaisang instantly curled in on himself, tugging at the hem of his mother's sleeve. She laughed once more, the sound airy and refreshing in the worsening heat. They'd left in the morning, and now the sun had almost climbed overhead. Nie Mingjue was about to excuse himself, but his step-mother's voice interrupted him a second time.

"Ah, that's right, A-Jue. You and your father will be going night hunting this evening?"

Nie Mingjue nodded once in affirmation then cocked his head to the side inquisitively. "Will you be coming with us?"

Her expression fell again as she shook her head, left hand coming up to press at her temple. "I haven't been feeling well lately."

"Still?"

"Yes... but don't tell your father. He has enough on his mind as is."

"I see," Nie Mingjue agreed, fully aware of the recent issues they'd been having with the Qíshān Wēn sect. His expression must have darkened because in the next moment, she was saying something to the other servant at her side and turning to him to ask, "And you? Have you been well?"

Her line of sight flickered to Bàxià, and Nie Mingjue understood the nature of the question.

"Yes," he lied, but he hadn't perfected his lying face to the extent of his step-mother or even his toddler half-brother. He and his father had always preferred bold-faced truths, after all, so it couldn't be helped. She smiled rather than pursue the falsity of his words and turned to accept the guqin she was offered with a respectful nod and 'Madam'. Then the servants retreated to a distance, and Nie Huaisang was practically bouncing in his seat.

"Mother, mother! Will you play for us?"

"Yes," she replied, gaze turning to Nie Mingjue. "Any requests?"

"Whatever," Nie Mingjue answered with a wave of his hand and closed his eyes as the first plucks of string reverberated around them. In the future, when his step-mother was gone, other people would take her place to play for him, and he'd be none the wiser to their intent.

[martyrsfall]

his mother’s eyes ;

    ‘he stares down at the silent blue marble of     the earth and thinks of his sister, as he will     at every important moment of his life. he     doesn’t know this yet, but he senses it deep     down in his core. so much will happen, he     thinks, that i would want to tell you.’

                                   - celeste ng, everything i never told you

    His mother’s eyes had been his favourite place to hide as a boy. Whenever panic had riddled his form, it’s to the green hues he’d look, searching for comfort and love, for a sign that everything would be alright. And his searches would always be fruitful, his mother staring back into the brown of his own, a soft smile on her face as she hushed him, reassured him in only ways she could. A gentle brush of fingers over the top of his head, a small kiss upon his forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she’d tell him, “nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. I will never let them hurt you.” And he’d believe her, just like that, the thumping of his heart slowing down, the sweat that glossed his skin simply fading away. His mother said everything was fine, that he needn’t fear. And so, it would be. 

    Onyx and cruel is the most he could remember of them now, blackened with hatred as the horror inside her murdered every bit of light she had left. He hadn’t seen his father with the same look, too scared, too afraid to look up at the man behind him; his hero pushing the barrel of a gun against his head. He’d blocked it from memory, refused to revisit it even when his dreams brought the night his hopes had died back to haunt him. Zeke had idolized their life once, viewed hunters as if they were some kind of hero.

    He’d learned better.

    It’d taken months for Zeke to be able to look at Zoe again, her features bearing the same as their mother’s, her eyes just as green, just as gentle despite all they’d seen. It was too much to stare into them, seeing the woman that had raised him staring back, the woman he’d shot dead without mercy, without hesitance so soon before. 

    And even with so many years passing, Zeke still couldn’t do it for long. He’d give Zoe all the attention she needed in the world, but he could never truly meet her eyes, not really. A quick glance here and there before he focuses on the bridge of her nose, perhaps a stray hair hanging down upon her face, maybe her smile instead. 

    Perhaps it was the fear if he looked too long, he’d see her change too.

    Leaning over the engine of the car, Zeke wipes his hands on his shirt, the oil and grime leaving dark and slick lines across the fabric. It was routine maintenance now, a little bit of TLC for a home that had carried him for thousands of miles. She was an old girl, beat up and battered in more ways than one and if the world was right, perhaps she’d of been retired by now. If he’s honest, he’d considered it more than once before Zoe had gone missing, but after, he hadn’t the heart to part with the only thing he had left connecting him to her. 

    It doesn’t stop him from talking shit to the old thing though, standing straight with a shake of his head. “Fuckin’ thing,” he grumbles, reaching up to grab the hood, slamming it down with a loud bang of frustration. “I just fixed you. Why you gotta fuck with me now, huh?” He taps a tire with his foot, crossing his arms over his chest in some stance of defiance. “We’re gonna fall out one of these days, I’m tellin’ you--”

    “Ezekiel.” 

    “Jesus fucking christ.” The hunter, for all his bravado and confidence, quite literally almost jumps a foot in the air, hairs on the back of his neck standing on end like some frightened cat. He spins on heel to find Zoe and he places a hand on his chest, the other pointing at his sister with a huff of breath. “You scared the shit outta me, what the hell Zo.” He doubles over slightly, puts his hands on his thighs as he steadies himself. It’s playful, a tad dramatic and childish. It’s a curious thing, however, how she’d managed to sneak up on him though. The courtyard made every footstep sound loud and clear to the hunter, able to hear someone approaching before they’d even made it outside. Zoe hadn’t made a single sound. He could hardly hear her breathing, even now as she stood so close.

    “Ezekiel,” Zoe says again, her tone far more serious, his name leaving her lips so sharp it surprises him. The look on her face is enough to bring his little display to an end, standing taller again, the protective big brother side of him settling into place. Had something else happened within the house? He couldn’t say he’d noticed. He couldn’t even say he’d been paying attention. Every part of him simply didn’t want to. But now? He can’t drag the worry away, put the job to bed. Had he ever given it up so easily like that? When did he start letting his guard down like this? 

    “What’s wrong?” Zeke asks, his brows furrowing slightly as Zoe’s expression ceases to give anything more away, her features... empty, lacking the life and determination they usually carried. 

    “It’s your fault,” Zoe tells him, “everything is your fault.” 

    Zeke’s expression hardens, his eyes looking to his sister’s in search of something more than emptiness and accusations. “Zo, I don’t--”      “You let them die. Why didn’t you do something?”     “Who? Zo I--”     “Why didn’t you find me, Ezekiel?” 

    Brows furrow, watching Zoe closely. This wasn’t... like her. Sure, there had been times when she’d questioned the things he’d done. Maybe at one time, there’d been resentment there, rightfully so, for killing their mother. But somewhere along the line, she’d understood. She’d accepted it, perhaps even forgiven him.

    She says his name again, his full name, and it’s now that Zeke notices how she holds herself differently, how the tone of her voice isn’t the sound of his adoring baby sister looking to him like he’s her hero. Zoe never called him ‘Ezekiel’. Ever. And so a hand moves slowly to the pistol holstered at his side, eyes narrowing towards the woman in front of him, a question hanging on his lips. One he never gets the chance to voice, for Zoe answers it for him first with her eyes.

    Black; the colour of coal. Cruel and onyx, void of all the love she’d ever showed him.

    His mother’s eyes.

    “Ezekiel, where have you been? Where were you?” she asks him, taking a few steps forward, a wide grin on her face, one too cruel to belong to Zoe. “Where were you when I needed you the most?” 

    It’s a sickening thing, to draw a weapon on his sister without hesitation, the hunter in him and the reflexes from years of training and fighting kicking in. He points the gun at Zoe, the safety already off, finger hovering over the trigger in steady hands. His body knows how to work. It’s muscle memory and experience. His mind, however, is falling apart. 

    Not again. Not again. Don’t do this to me again.

    “Let her go,” he says, his voice wavering, gravelly and lacking the fierce confidence it usually had. It betrays him, showing his fear. “Let my sister go. There’s more than enough bodies in there for you to take, goddammit, let her go.”

    “No.” 

    Zeke had given up on God a long time ago, standing within a church in the middle of no where, candlelight dancing upon the dark walls. All his life, he had questioned, had wondered if there was more to all of this, more than the demons and the monsters he’d dedicated his entire being to killing. 

    He had prayed to the man on the moon when his father had died, standing beside his mother as they burned his corpse in a lonely, abandoned field. He could still feel his father’s blood sticking to his face, the splatter from his mother’s shot drowning him in red. He’d asked then, watching the fires lick and consume his father’s body, that God watch over them. He’d begged Him not to take his mother too, to let his sister grow up. ‘Please let us live,’ he’d asked, ‘please.’ 

    He’d prayed when he murdered his mother; a shot between the eyes just like she’d taught him. He’d asked the heavens for forgiveness, asked him to let his mother know that he loved her, that he never wanted to do it. That he’d had to, that it was the only way to keep Zoe safe. 

    For all the jobs his mother had given him, protecting Zoe was the most important one. “Keep her safe, Zeke,” she’d said the day she was born, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Promise me.”     “I promise,” he’d whispered back, Zoe in his arms, looking down upon the newborn like she was some kind of angel. He’d murmured the promise into the soft tufts of hair on her head over and over, swearing he’d never let anything hurt her. 

    And then, Zoe left him too. 

    “God has plans for us all, my son,” the Father had told him, placing a hand upon Zeke’s shoulder like his words would mean anything, like he could find comfort within the church, standing before a statue of Christ who held his arms wide open, as if he were welcoming him home. “You must have faith.”      “Fuck his plans,” Zeke had snarled back like a rabid animal, something ugly and unkind. “He doesn’t deserve my faith.” 

    But now, in this moment, it’s all the man can give. Because that’s simply all he is, isn’t it? A man with a burden that sits too heavy upon his shoulders. A man thrust into a life that, perhaps at one time, he’d of been happy to live, where he’d looked to hunters as heroes, defenders of the weak, destroyers of monsters. Please. Please help me, Zeke begged in his head, watching how his sister began to approach, power crackling at her fingertips. Power that wasn’t hers. Please don’t make me do this.

    “This is how it ends,” Zoe -- no -- the demon cooed, laughter in its voice, “this is how it will always end. It began with you, Ezekiel, and it will end with you.” 

    Please. Please God, don’t make me do this.

    “Zoe--” He rests his finger on the trigger, tells himself the same thing he told himself the night he killed his mother. ‘She wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. She wouldn’t want to hurt you. She’d ask you to do this. She’d understand.’

    “If you can hear me--” Zeke continues as Zoe raises her hands, dark energy flooding to her finger tips. He feels his chest begin to tighten, his breath catching in his throat.

    No, no no no, don’t make me do this. Please. Oh God, please.

    “I’ll find you again. I’ll always find you.”

    Please. I’m begging you. Don’t make me do this.

    Zoe grins, raises her hand, rushes towards him to attack.

    Please.

    “I love you, Zo.”

    Zeke doesn’t hear the gunshot, doesn’t feel the way his finger squeezes the trigger one, two times. The world moves in slow motion around him. The bullets leave the barrel of the gun in flashes, move through the air in line with each other, find the space between Zoe’s eyes. He watches the crimson burst from the back of her head in a a cloud, falling like soft rain behind her. The black in her eyes shift back to green, the dark taking the light of life that lingered for the briefest second with it. 

    She falls backwards, and Zeke drops his gun.

    He catches her, because he would always catch her and falls to his knees with her in his arms. She’s limp, something warm running down his arm, her hair wet and slick. A trickle of red bleeds from the hole in her forehead, the hole he’d put there and Zeke looks down upon her face and into those eyes.     His mother’s eyes.     Zoe’s eyes.

    Dead.

    A pained sob filled with anguish rips from Zeke’s throat as he pulls his little sister closer, holding her against him, tucking head beneath his chin, the tears falling from his eyes dripping down onto her cheeks. He wails, the sobs wracking his form, cries her name over and over whilst he rocks her back and forth in his arms. She lays still within his grasp, doesn’t protest to how tightly he hangs onto her.

    ‘Gotta breathe, Zeke.’

    So breathe. Come back. Come back. Come back--

    She doesn’t, and he’s left alone again. She’s another body, another name on the list of people he’d killed, murdered, hadn’t been able to save. Now, he had the blood of his entire family staining his skin, their deaths his fault. 

    Zeke tilts his head back and lets out an agonizing scream. 

[naferty]

Steve leaves tony and Tony learns he's pregnant

Seeee, now I had this wonderful angsty idea swimming in my head for a while about pregnant Tony being left behind for reasons I haven’t decided yet and now I have the perfect opportunity to show this part that I’ve really wanted to show peeps. So here’s some past-stony with endgame ironpanther and some small blink-and-you-miss ironhusbands, if you want to see that. 

a/b/o au where it’s frowned upon for a child not to have at least one alpha parent claim them as their own. Doesn’t necessarily mean they have to have an alpha be their parent by blood, just that an alpha (family friend, uncle, cousin, brother/sister-in law, anyone close really) takes them under their wing. All nothing but titles. 

There were many painful things Tony had gone through in his life, physically and emotionally that would’ve left many throw in the towel and give up on everything, but none of those painful experiences had been as rewarding as the moment he first held his baby son and daughter. Labor be damned.

The lungs on the pair were strong and their cries powerful. Too young for their orientation to be known yet but Tony knew for sure they would grow up to be well respected and stand tall with nothing to hold them back. 

At least they would until their unfortunate circumstance Tony had placed them under was revealed and their status would greatly plummet. Not even an alpha would be able to recover from the taint of being unclaimed, to be raised without the influence of an alpha prime. Even with the progress done in modern society the belief that a child raised without an alpha prime in their name would grow up to be a nuisance with no possible future or benefit. That was all bullshit and the mentality of old traditionalist, but the opinions of many did cause a stir and lowered their chances to even have equal footing to the rest fortunate enough to have an alpha prime take them under their wing. 

Tony had doomed his own children even before they were born. 

As he held them with such happiness and pride, the wrongs of the world unable to touch them at the moment, he couldn’t ignore the shadow that loomed over them. The soft eyes of pity from the nurses and the doctor as they watched the single omega hold his children alone without an alpha prime present to claim them was a reminder that his most precious and joyous moment wouldn’t last long. The reality of society would soon bring it’s ugly head in and not even the children of Tony Stark could escape it’s harshness. 

“I’m sorry, little ones. I can’t do more.” 

His beautiful children didn’t respond, naturally. They were oblivious of the disgraceful life they were brought into and had no idea what was waiting for them. For now all Tony could do was hold them and pray his love was enough for now. And the resentment wouldn’t nearly kill him. 

“Mister Stark?” the doctor came forth, looking uncomfortable with a birth certificate in hand. “Is there anyone to claim them?” 

Shame prevented Tony from looking at the doctor straight in her eyes. “No. No one. Just me.” 

Thankfully she didn’t say anything. There was no need to. Everyone was well aware of what the future would bring for the newborns and there was nothing to be done about it. 

(break, for mobile users) 

The silence that befell the room made it so the sound that came seconds later echoed through Tony’s very core and nearly caused him to go deft. The squeak of boots made him wince and one of the nurses’ low voice of “Sir, you can’t be here,” made it seem she was screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Tony didn’t panic at the sudden intrusion but the sight of his best friend walking towards him like a man on a mission made his heart leap. Rhodey was still meant to be waiting outside until the doctor gave the go ahead for visits. There was no reason for him to be in the room yet. 

“My name is James Rhodes. I’m an alpha prime and I’m here to claim the children of Tony Stark.” 

Tony’s mouth nearly hit the floor. 

The doctor didn’t question it. She had no reason to. She had seen Rhodey when Tony was first wheeled in, crying in pain and gripping Rhodey’s hand. She knew Rhodey was someone close and was an alpha prime and had just declared to take Tony’s newborns under his name. 

“Rhodey?” Tony’s voice cracked, unable to form what he truly wanted to say. What are you doing? What are you thinking? Don’t fix my mistakes, please. 

Rhodey’s eyes were full of determination. No sign of hesitation of second thoughts. This was an alpha ready to take a step. “If the next words out of your mouth are you trying to convince me not to do this because you don’t want me to ‘sacrifice myself’ then don’t bother. I’m doing this because you’re my friend, Tones, and because the months I spent with you leading up to this day I ended up falling in love with two squirts that haven’t even talked yet but managed to win me over anyway. This is not a sacrifice. It’s never going to be a sacrifice. I want to do this. I’ll be their uncle, hell I’ll even be their dad if you let me, but you bet I’m going to be in their life. Now shut up and let me sign that certificate.” 

Tony shut his mouth and blinked away the stinging in his eyes. Damn Rhodey and his ability to always make everything better. 

The doctor handed the certificate over and stamped it twice after Rhodey signed, making it official and giving Tony’s…. no, their, children a chance. When Rhodey made his way over to the bed and leaned down Tony didn’t hesitate to thank him. 

“Don’t thank me, Tones. I told you it’s not a sacrifice.” 

“But you didn’t have to.” 

“No,” Rhodey squeezed his shoulder, “I wanted to. Now let me see my kids, ey?” 

Pale skin, pink cheeks, tuffs of brown and blonde hair, features that belonged to their biological father, they resembled nothing of Rhodey but Rhodey stared at them as if they were truly his own. Pride, happiness, Rhodey didn’t care if they didn’t belong to him. He already loved them. 

“So what are their names?” 

“I was thinking…. Peter and Gwen,” Tony stared up at him, wanting his approval. He had just as much of a say as Tony now. 

Rhodey mouthed the names, nodding. “I like it.” 

At five years old Peter and Gwen were already partners in crime, devious and truly evil when they put their minds into things. Thankfully they loved Tony and Rhodey too much to put them in the ground early. But Tony got the feeling that once they hit their teen years they weren’t going to hold back as much. 

Today wasn’t that day. The pair were seated in their booth, talking between themselves and eating their slice of pie as they waited eagerly for Rhodey for their weekly dinner out together. A small tradition they had created in their favorite diner. The very same diner Tony and Rhodey had gone to during their MIT years. Still in business and going just as strong as before. The fact that Tony sometimes makes small donations had nothing to do with it. 

The day was meant to be like any other. Wait for Rhodey, order their usual, chat about what trouble Peter and Gwen had gotten into, have Rhodey pry for information on the alpha that Tony had gotten to know during a recent business meeting to extend a hand towards Wakanda, and leave together for whatever activity they were up to. Tony was ready for it all, looked forward to it, so when an alpha he didn’t think he’d be seeing again (not after nearly six years have passed without a word from him) walked up to his table to greet him his mind completely blanked out. 

“Tony?” 

Tony clenched his hands under the table. “Steve.” 

The alpha looked… good, happy. He was smiling, eyes bright with the same shine that appeared on Gwen’s when she ran to greet her uncle Bruce and aunt Nat and got to spend a day to play with Mary Jane. 

“How are you?” Steve smiled. Tony didn’t understand why. The last time he had seen Steve the alpha was guarded, emotionless as he told Tony he couldn’t do it anymore and needed time and left him to spend months alone without a single phone call. 

“I’m great,” and honestly? He truly was. He had his beautiful children, his best friend turned parental partner that gave his children a chance, a downright handsome man with an attractive accent courting him, children and all, and the giant hole that Steve had left behind when he broke things off had finally closed shut. There were no regrets. 

“That’s good to hear,” Steve bit his lower lip, something that Tony had always loved seeing. Now? He didn’t feel anything. 

There was another question coming from the alpha, but Peter and Gwen had kept a close eye at the newcomer and their curiosity wasn’t going to let it go. “Who is that?” Peter asked, eyes wide. 

Steve seemed to mimic the look as he finally took in the sight of the pair. 

“This is… an old friend of mine,” Tony settled on. No point in explaining. Steve had given up his rights five years ago. 

“Oh,” the two said and went back to their conversation, ignoring the alpha completely. 

“Tony….?” It was obvious Steve wanted to ask the question. Hard not to assume it, considering Gwen resembled him in more ways than just the hair coloring. 

Tony was saved from saying anything as Rhodey walked up without hesitation and pushed Steve over to sit down. Peter and Gwen lit up at seeing their father. “Daddy!” 

“How are my favorite kids doing?” Rhodey grinned at the pair. “Have you been behaving for your mom?” 

“Always,” Gwen said with a childish smile. 

Shortly after Rhodey appeared T’Challa sauntered over with a red and gold bag. “Hello, kitten.” 

Tony sighed into the kiss T’Challa gave him and scooted over to give him room to join. 

T’Challa greeted Rhodey and the kids after and it was only until he noticed Steve standing nearby did their attention return to him. Rhodey eyed him warily and nothing else. “Steve. Long time no see.” 

“Yes,” Steve started shifting in place. His presence was slowly making it uncomfortable and the alpha seemed to notice but refused to leave. Clearly he wanted to know more about Peter and Gwen but with Rhodey as their alpha prime Steve had no power to pry. Not if Rhodey didn’t allow it. 

“Need anything?” Rhodey’s eyes turned challenging. Alpha prime to alpha prime. 

Steve wanted to say something but as he watched T’Challa wrap an arm around Tony and Rhodey move his body to block Peter and Gwen he knew he was defeated. He took a step back, shoulders slumped and shook his head. “No. Nothing. It was… nice seeing you both again.” 

Tony and Rhodey didn’t return the sentiment and watched as Steve walked out the diner. 

“Someone I should know?” T’Challa eventually broke the silence. 

Tony and Rhodey shook their heads. “No, just a chance encounter.” 

“Chance aside, happy birthday, Love.”