#Day 1: parenthood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

danysdaughter · 12 days ago

Text

Come Home To Me (Pt 2)

pairing | 40s!bucky x 40s!reader

word count | 8.8k words

summary | he came home in pieces, broken but breathing, and slowly—painfully—learned how to be whole again in the arms of the woman he loved and the child he never thought he’d meet. now, with another baby on the way, and a house built from promises once whispered in wartime, james buchanan barnes is finally learning what it means to be at peace.

tags | (18+) MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v sex, smut and fluff, lactation kink, post-war bucky barnes, domestic!bucky, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, parenthood, healing, slow burn recovery, baby fic, pregnancy, period-typical sexism, protective!bucky barnes, monster-in-law, dad!bucky

a/n | in honour of father's day here's some dad!bucky, and based on this request. and oh my days, everyone wants a part 2 of everything guys, lmao. and I won't lie to you guys I totally forgot about Steve.

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ — ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1

divider by @cafekitsune

He came home, but it wasn’t easy.

There was no parade. No smiling reunion with a neat, happy ending. No soft fade to black.

It was harder than that. Messier.

Bucky didn’t come back whole. He came back in pieces—some broken, some missing, and some so twisted by what had been done to him that he didn’t know how to name them anymore.

At first, he didn’t sleep.

Not really.

Not more than an hour or two at a time, and even that was borrowed—fitful, heavy with sweat, jaw clenched so tight it clicked when he finally startled awake.

You kept the light on. You learned quickly not to touch him before he saw you. You moved slowly. You kept your voice low.

And sometimes, like tonight, even that wasn’t enough.

You startled awake just before it happened—some instinct in you catching the shift in the room. The tightness in his breath. The tension pulling at the air. You turned just in time to see his fingers curl into the sheets, his body twitching once, then twice—

Then the sound came.

A sharp, guttural gasp. Then a choked noise, somewhere between a cry and a growl. He jerked upright like he was being yanked by invisible hands, panting like he’d run a marathon, eyes wide and wild in the dark.

You didn’t rush.

You sat up slowly, careful not to touch him yet. “Bucky,” you said softly.

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t here yet.

“Bucky, baby—it’s me.”

His chest heaved. One hand fisted the blanket. The other trembled against his thigh. You could see the outline of the scar running down his forearm, barely catching the low light from the window.

You reached out then, slowly, and touched the back of his shoulder—warm, damp with sweat.

“Hey,” you said again, more firmly now. “You’re not there. You’re here. With me. You’re safe.”

His head snapped toward you, eyes still frantic. And then slowly, slowly, you saw the panic fade. It didn’t vanish. It never did. But it loosened its grip, just enough.

You scooted closer and slid your arms around his torso, your cheek pressing against his bare back. His skin was damp and chilled under your touch, muscles coiled tight as wire.

“You’re here,” you murmured again, letting your hand move in slow, steady circles across his chest. “You’re home. You’re in our bed. You’re not there anymore.”

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t have to.

You felt the way he exhaled, like something had been knocked loose in his chest. His shoulders slumped. His hand—still trembling—came to rest over yours.

You kissed the space between his shoulder blades.

“You’re in my arms, Bucky,” you whispered. “That’s all that matters now.”

He turned then, slowly, and buried his face in your neck.

You didn’t say anything else.

You just held him.

────────────────────────

The morning came slow, gray light spilling across the floorboards, pooling in soft patches along the bedroom rug. Bucky hadn’t gone back to sleep. He rarely did after the nightmares. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, blanket wrapped tight around his waist like armor.

You were still dozing, curled under the covers behind him, one hand resting lightly where he used to be.

He stared at the metal.

At it.

The glint of it in the light made his stomach twist.

The way it didn’t move unless he willed it to. The soft, nearly silent whir when he flexed the fingers. The weight of it, always present, always reminding him.

It didn’t feel like part of him. It felt like a warning label.

Disfigured. Crippled. Not whole.

He hadn’t said those words out loud, but he’d heard them. From Hydra. From the dark, aching corners of his own mind. And he believed them, most days. Even if you didn’t.

Especially because you didn’t.

And then—

The bedroom door creaked open.

He stiffened, breath catching.

Tiny feet padded across the floor with that unbalanced, wobbly rhythm unique to toddlers. A small gasp of effort as chubby fingers gripped the edge of the bed.

“Mama?”

Your eyes fluttered open.

Jamie peeked his head over the edge, messy-haired and pajama-clad, his smile all gums and mischief. When he saw Bucky sitting there, back to him, his whole face lit up.

“Pup!”

The name hit Bucky like a punch to the chest.

He didn’t turn around.

He didn’t move.

Jamie grunted and tried to climb up himself—made it halfway before you reached over and pulled him gently into the bed, settling him beside you.

Bucky stayed frozen, shoulders tense, head bowed. His right hand curled into the blanket. The left stayed still. Cold. A weight.

Jamie didn’t seem to notice. He crawled clumsily over the mattress until he reached his father’s back and pressed a small hand—warm, sticky, unbothered—against Bucky’s spine.

“Pup…” he said again, softer this time.

You felt Bucky’s breath hitch.

He finally turned, just slightly. Enough to see Jamie’s wide eyes blinking up at him, so open, so trusting.

He lifted his metal arm an inch, then stopped.

He couldn’t do it.

“I don’t want him near this,” he said quietly, not looking at you. “I don’t want him touching it.”

You sat up slowly, Jamie still leaning against your hip. “Bucky…”

“It’s not right,” he said, voice tight. “This—this thing on me—it’s not safe. It’s not normal. What if—what if I drop him? Or he gets scared of it? What if I—hurt him?”

“He’s not scared,” you said gently. “Look at him.”

Jamie leaned forward again, unbothered by the tension in the room, babbling softly as he reached for Bucky’s hand. The metal one.

He didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t afraid.

“Pup,” he said again, gripping one thick finger and holding it in his tiny fist.

Bucky stared down at him.

And then at his hand.

Jamie didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. He giggled.

Bucky made a sound then. Barely audible.

You touched his back, light and steady.

“He loves you, James,” you said. “All of you.”

Bucky looked at you, eyes wet and uncertain.

“I don’t know how to be a father,” he whispered.

You smiled, soft and aching. “You’re learning. And that's okay.”

────────────────────────

The nursery was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp near the rocker. The curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the cracked window, casting shifting shadows across the floor. The scent of lavender and baby powder lingered in the air.

You sat in the rocking chair, Jamie cradled against your chest. He was already asleep—limp with baby weight, warm and soft, his cheek squished against your shoulder, little fist curled near your collarbone.

You hummed quietly, the same old lullaby you always sang, your voice barely above a whisper.

The creak of the floorboards behind you was soft, hesitant.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him.

Bucky stood in the doorway, shoulder pressed against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a sweater his mother had knit him during the war—worn thin, sleeves pushed to his elbows, exposing the steel curve of his arm where the fabric stretched too tight.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Just watched.

The expression on his face was unreadable—but his eyes… his eyes were full of something heavy. Something quiet. Something hopeful.

You shifted Jamie just slightly, brushing a kiss to his hair before looking up.

“He’s out,” you whispered. “Didn’t even make it through the first verse.”

Bucky smiled faintly, lips barely twitching.

Another pause.

Then—softly, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask—he said, “Would it be okay if I tried next time?”

You blinked.

Your heart clenched.

You nodded immediately, your voice catching slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He looked down, shoulders tense like he was waiting for shame to set in anyway. “I… I just don’t want to mess it up. He’s so small. And I’m just—this isn’t exactly what they trained me for.”

You stood slowly, careful not to jostle Jamie, and walked to him—closing the space with soft, sure steps.

You reached up with one hand and brushed his hair back gently from his forehead.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you murmured. “Just present.”

He nodded, eyes shining but never quite falling.

“He already thinks the world of you, you know,” you added, glancing down at Jamie. “To him, you’re not the man Hydra tried to make you. You’re Pup.”

That broke him a little.

He stepped forward, kissed your temple, then Jamie’s soft head, his metal hand brushing your elbow—light, reverent.

“Next time,” he said again.

“Next time,” you promised.

And he stayed with you in the doorway until the room was only breathing and warmth and the soft creak of the rocking chair.

It started the way it always did now—quiet, soft, familiar.

You were curled into Bucky’s chest, the baby monitor humming faintly on the nightstand, your fingers tracing slow circles along the seam of his shirt. His arms were around you—flesh and metal—and you were safe. Always safe with him.

But tonight, the air between you felt heavier.

Not sad. Not distant.

Just… thick with something waiting.

Your hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, fingertips brushing warm skin. He sucked in a breath—almost imperceptible, but you caught it.

He always did that when you touched him now. Not because he didn’t want it. But because some part of him still couldn’t believe he deserved it.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely a breath against his collarbone.

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he nodded. “Yeah. Just… gimme a second.”

You pulled back slightly, eyes meeting his in the dim light. “You sure?”

His gaze dropped, jaw clenched.

“I’m not what I was,” he said quietly. “Not the man you married. Not even the one you remember.”

You reached up, touched his cheek, thumb brushing the stubble there. “Neither am I.”

He looked at you again—eyes scanning your face, searching.

“I’ve got scars, Bucky. Stretch marks. Softness where there wasn’t before.”

“Don’t care about that.”

“Then why would I care about yours?”

That hit him.

He swallowed hard, then slowly pulled his shirt over his head. His chest was broader now, more muscle from the serum, more shadows carved by pain and reconstruction. The metal shoulder gleamed dully in the dark, the seams where flesh met steel jagged and raw.

You sat up, eyes on him.

Then you reached out, slow and steady, and placed your hand flat against the scarred seam of his shoulder.

He flinched. Just a little.

You leaned in and kissed it.

He closed his eyes.

Your lips trailed lower—to the angry red line that crossed his ribs, to the curve of his side, to the center of his chest. You didn’t rush. You just breathed him in.

“I still love every inch of you,” you whispered. “Even the parts you don’t.”

When he kissed you, it was different.

Slower. Reverent.

Like he needed to relearn your mouth, your breath, your shape beneath his hands.

When his hands slid under your shirt, you let him.

He paused again.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

You took his hand and placed it over your stomach, over the softness you used to be self-conscious about.

“I grew our son in this body,” you said. “How could I ever hate it?”

His eyes shimmered.

And when he touched you, he moved slowly at first.

His fingers slid your nightdress up, exposing inch after inch of skin—soft, real, yours. His hands trembled just slightly, and not from fear. From reverence. Like you were something holy he didn’t think he’d ever be allowed to touch again.

You reached up, carding your fingers through his hair. “Bucky,” you whispered, and that alone undid him.

He bent down and kissed your breast—gently at first, then with more intent, his lips closing around your nipple, tongue swirling as he moaned low in his throat. When the faintest taste of milk touched his tongue, he froze.

His breath caught.

Then he sucked harder, greedier, and you gasped.

“Oh,” you breathed, back arching into him.

He groaned, long and low, hands tightening on your hips. It was like something had snapped in him. Like this was the thing he hadn’t known he needed—your milk, your warmth, the undeniable proof of the life you’d carried while he was gone.

He drank like a man starved.

His tongue lapped, lips pulling, and when more milk spilled into his mouth he moaned again, eyes fluttering shut, like it was feeding him in ways nothing else had.

You clutched at his hair, gasping softly. “Bucky—Bucky—you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he growled against your skin, voice raw. “Please. Just let me.”

And you did.

Because how could you not?

This was his way of coming back.

Of reclaiming what he thought he’d lost.

He switched to your other breast, suckling hungrily, one hand sliding between your thighs to find how wet you were for him. His fingers brushed your folds and he groaned against your nipple.

“Christ, baby…” he murmured. “You’re dripping. All for me?”

You moaned, breathless. “Always for you.”

That undid him.

He kissed down your belly, trailing wet, desperate heat until he was between your legs—worshipping you like he hadn’t just sucked your milk like it would keep him alive. His tongue moved slow at first, savoring. Then faster, deeper, tasting everything you’d held back.

You writhed beneath him, clutching the sheets, your body breaking open under the weight of it all.

He made you come with his mouth.

Then again on his fingers.

Then slid inside you with a low, guttural moan—deep and full, like it was dragging out of the hollow part of his chest that had ached for years. Your body welcomed him without hesitation, soft and wet, pulling him in like it had missed him just as much.

His hips pressed flush to yours, breath shaking. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not yet.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “You’re home, Bucky,” you whispered. “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”

He made a sound—half whimper, half breath—and dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

When he started to move, it wasn’t just thrusting. It was pouring. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips felt like he was trying to bury himself deeper—like he could hide inside your body, crawl into your ribs, and finally, finally rest.

“You feel like home,” he gasped against your skin. “I don’t—I don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

You held him close, thighs wrapped around his hips, heels pressing into his back to pull him in even deeper. “You’re okay, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing his temple. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His pace quickened, hips snapping harder now, his body trembling with the force of his own desperation. Every thrust felt like a prayer, a plea—don’t let me go, don’t let me disappear, don’t let this be a dream.

He shifted, chest heaving, and latched onto your breast again—drinking you, moaning into your skin like it was too much and not enough all at once.

“I missed this—you,” he panted, voice breaking. “Missed your voice, your body—your smell, your taste—fuck.”

You stroked his back, nails dragging lightly down the thick muscles there. “I’m here,” you breathed. “I’m not going anywhere. You can have all of me, James. As much as you need.”

He whimpered into your chest, hips driving into you harder now, deeper, almost brutal with how tightly he held on to you.

“Let me stay,” he gasped. “Please—please, let me stay.”

“Stay, baby,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “Stay as long as you need. I’ve got you.”

He cried when he came.

Not loud. Not broken. Just silent tears pressed into your neck as he buried himself as deep as he could and let go.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even try.

His breathing was uneven against your neck, forehead pressed to your collarbone, arms locked around you like if he let go, he’d disappear again. His body was still trembling—small, helpless shudders that rolled through him like aftershocks.

You didn’t say anything right away.

You just held him. One hand threaded through his hair, the other drawing slow, grounding circles on his bare back. The room was warm with sweat, with breath, with the weight of everything that had just broken between you.

“You’re okay,” you whispered—not as reassurance, but as truth. “You’re here. With me. With us.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

But his grip on your waist tightened just a little.

And then, after a long pause—quiet, rough, like the words had to crawl out of his throat—he said, “I don’t know how to stop needing this.”

Your hand stroked through his hair again. “Then don’t.”

Another silence. Deeper this time.

And then he lifted his head, just slightly. His eyes were red, lashes damp, cheeks flushed—but there was something clear behind them now. Something raw. Present.

“Can I…?” His voice was barely there.

You didn’t ask what he meant.

You just nodded.

He lowered his head to your chest again, and when his mouth closed over your nipple this time, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow. Gentle. Like he was trying to take in comfort one drop at a time.

You cradled his head, holding him against your skin as he drank quietly from you.

And for the first time in a long time, he started to calm.

His breath steadied.

His hands relaxed.

And when you looked down at him—your soldier, your husband, the father of your child—he looked peaceful.

Still inside you.

Still holding on.

And for now… that was enough.

Brooklyn, Late March 1947

It wasn’t a surprise—not really.

Not after the way Bucky touched you.

After that first night, it was like something inside him broke open, and all the need he’d held back came pouring out. Gentle. Desperate. Reverent. Like he was making up for every moment Hydra had stolen, every soft breath he hadn’t been allowed to take.

He took you almost every night. Sometimes with a quiet tenderness, other times with a hunger so sharp it left you breathless. Always with his hands on your skin like he couldn’t believe you were real.

So when you missed your period in March, it wasn’t shock you felt.

It was a heavy, low ache in your chest.

And exhaustion.

You stood in the bathroom that morning, palm flat on your belly, heart already beating with that frantic rhythm that came with too much, too fast.

Jamie was still a baby. Barely over a year and a half. His little hands still reached for you when he was sleepy, his cries still piercing when he was scared. You were still learning how to mother one child, still writing columns for the Brooklyn Standard, still keeping the household moving while Bucky tried to find his footing.

And Bucky…

Bucky was working again.

He’d taken up his father’s old job at the auto garage, the one on 32nd and Vine. It helped. The clank of tools, the grit under his nails, the old-school rhythms of fixing something broken—it made sense to him in ways people didn’t yet.

The other workers had gotten used to the way he worked in silence. The way he flinched at loud bangs. How his left arm lifted entire engines with ease, metal flexing like it was born to carry weight. He could lift a Buick’s rear axle with one hand and loosen bolts with the other.

Sometimes, you watched from the office window when you came to drop off lunch.

He looked powerful. Capable.

Grounded.

When you told him, his reaction was quiet.

He didn’t speak right away—just blinked, mouth parted slightly, eyes darting to your belly and back.

Then he said softly, “Really?”

You nodded, eyes stinging.

And Bucky—he smiled. Small at first. Then a little wider, with a kind of quiet, aching joy that made your stomach turn. “We can do this,” he said. “I can do this. This time… I’ll be here.”

His arms wrapped around you gently, hands spreading across your lower back. You felt the warmth of him, the certainty in his body, how right it all felt.

And yet—

You didn’t return the smile.

Not fully.

────────────────────────

Later that night, when Jamie was asleep and Bucky was already dozing off with an arm thrown over his eyes, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.

“You know I always wanted more than marriage and housewives and babies, right?”

You’d told him that once—your arms around his neck, your chin lifted high. And he’d smiled and said, “That’s not what I’m askin’ for. I want you, just how you are. Loud and brash and brilliant. I just want to be yours — proper.”

Now?

Now you were here.

Pregnant. Again.

Barely thirty, but your life felt like it had already been folded and sorted into tidy categories—mother, wife, columnist, survivor.

And Bucky… he was trying, God, he was trying—but the tremors still came sometimes. The nights when he wouldn’t let you touch his left side. The way he kept a knife hidden in the drawer under the sink, even though the war was over.

You placed a hand against your stomach and whispered, “I don’t know if we’re ready.”

And in the stillness, it felt like a confession.

The afternoon light was soft, slanting in through the living room window, catching dust motes in its gold-tinted glow. The radio murmured in the background—something jazzy, low and warm—but neither of you were listening.

You were at the far end of the couch, folding laundry with practiced motions—Jamie's overalls, one of Bucky's undershirts, a baby sock so small it barely looked real. The rhythm of it felt grounding, mechanical. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered.

On the floor, Jamie was giggling—sharp, delighted peals of laughter—because Bucky had taken to the rug on his back, letting Jamie clamber over him like a mountaintop. His thick hair was mussed from small fingers, and his sweater was twisted at the hem where Jamie had pulled it.

“Careful with your old man,” Bucky chuckled, grabbing gently at Jamie’s belly to make him squeal. “He’s got mileage.”

Jamie bounced and babbled nonsense, eyes bright.

You smiled.

But it didn’t reach your eyes.

Bucky noticed.

He watched you between Jamie’s squeals—your soft half-smile, the faint downturn at the corners of your mouth, the quiet way your eyes kept drifting from the pile of clothes to the floor, like gravity was pulling your thoughts somewhere heavier than the room allowed.

You folded the same shirt twice.

And Bucky knew.

So when Jamie had crawled off into a tired, milk-heavy nap, and you were still folding slowly—deliberately—he shifted on the floor and leaned back against the couch, his legs stretched out, fingers tapping lightly against the wood grain.

He didn’t look at you when he said it.

“Is it the baby?”

You blinked.

The shirt in your hand went still.

You turned to look at him, startled. “What?”

He turned his head, met your eyes now—those soft gray-blues always full of something aching when it came to you.

“You’ve been quieter since you told me. Distant.”

“I’m just tired, James.”

He tilted his head. “No. It’s more than that.”

You let out a breath. “I’m not distant. I’m not… I’m fine.”

He didn’t move, but his jaw worked once. Twice. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

You stopped.

There was a long silence.

Then:

“It’s just soon,” you said finally. Your voice was low. Not ashamed—just cautious. “Jamie’s still so little. And I’m still working. And you’re still healing, Buck. You barely sleep some nights. You flinch when the wrench clanks too hard at the garage. And now… another baby?”

His throat moved, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I told you, back when you asked me to marry you—I wanted more than this. Not *ust marriage and diapers and—”

“I know.”

“I know you're not the same the man I married, Bucky.” You bit your lip, then softened. “But I still love you. I just… don’t know if I’m the woman you married anymore, either.”

He was quiet.

Then he reached up—rested his flesh hand on your knee, fingers warm and a little rough from the garage.

“You don’t have to be thrilled. You just have to be honest with me.”

You looked down at him.

There was no judgment in his face. Just the same soft, aching gaze. And the faintest tremble at the corner of his mouth, like he was worried this was the part where you'd pull away for good.

There was a long silence between you. The kind that filled the whole room, soft but heavy, like the lull after a storm that hadn’t quite passed.

Your fingers tightened around the fabric in your lap. Jamie’s little onesie, blue with tiny ducks on the trim.

You smoothed it once. Twice.

Then said, very quietly, “I did it all alone last time.”

His brows furrowed.

You didn’t look at him.

Your voice stayed steady—but only just.

“Not because I wanted to. Not because I thought I could. Because I had to.”

The words didn’t tremble, but your shoulders did. Just slightly. Enough for him to notice.

“I worked until I couldn’t stand. I wrote columns and took the train to the office, waddling up and down those damn subway steps like a marching cow. I gave birth with a stranger’s hand in mine. I came home with stitches and a screaming baby and no clue what the hell I was doing.”

You swallowed.

“I got up at two a.m. every night to feed Jamie. I wrote pieces between feedings, between diaper changes, between crying. And when he got sick that first time and I thought he wasn’t gonna make it through the night?” You blinked hard. “I sat in the bathroom with the door closed so he wouldn’t hear me cry.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched against your knee.

“I know it’s not your fault,” you said quickly, looking at him now—finally. “I know it’s not. You didn’t choose what happened. You didn’t leave because you wanted to. But you were gone. And I had to do it all. Every goddamn piece of it. Alone.”

There was no accusation in your voice. Just tired honesty.

“And I don’t know if I have it in me to do it again. Not right now. Not when Jamie’s still in diapers. Not when I’m just starting to find me again. The me who writes. Who sleeps. Who laughs without holding my breath.”

You exhaled slowly. Carefully.

“I want this baby,” you said. “I do. But I’m so scared I’ll disappear again. That I’ll become someone I don’t recognize.”

Bucky didn’t speak right away.

He just reached for your hand—slow and careful, like he was afraid you'd pull away.

You didn’t.

His fingers closed around yours. His metal hand stayed on the floor, steady and still.

Then he looked up at you, eyes glassy and dark.

“I hate that I wasn’t here.”

You opened your mouth—but he shook his head gently.

“Don’t—don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault. I know that. I know it in my head. But in here—” He tapped his chest once, hard. “I still hate it. That you had to carry all that. That I wasn’t there to see our son take his first breath. Or his first steps. Or help you when you were too damn tired to even remember your name.”

He blinked, slow and careful. “But I’m here now. For this. For you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your throat tightened.

“I want to be the man who gets up at two a.m. this time,” he said. “Who wraps you up when you cry and holds the baby when you’re too tired to move. Let me carry it now. Let me help.”

You looked at him—really looked—and for the first time since the test came back positive, something inside you cracked open.

Not with fear.

But with a strange, aching kind of relief.

You didn’t have to do this alone.

Not this time.

And it didn’t fix everything. But it was enough for right now.

Brooklyn, July 11, 1947 – five months later

The air was thick with summer.

Not the good kind either. Not the romantic kind with lemonade and linen dresses and soft breezes off the Hudson. No, this was the suffocating kind—sun like hot glass pressing down on your skin, sweat prickling your neck, your five-months-pregnant belly making everything clingy and itchy and ugh.

And the backyard? A minefield of frosting-smudged toddlers, collapsing balloon animals, overturned paper plates, and parents with that glazed “we’ve been here too long” expression.

You should have said no.

But Winnifred Barnes had insisted.

“It’s a milestone, darling. He’s two. That’s important.”

You wanted to ask her if she planned to throw a sweet sixteen for every time her grandson figured out how to say truck.

Instead, you’d gritted your teeth and said, “Of course, Mrs. Barnes.”

Now she was here—in full force.

Hair set. Pearls on. Wearing pale blue like she’d come straight from a tea party in 1923. She moved through her backyard with the confidence of a general inspecting the troops.

“Oh no, dear,” she said now, reaching over and rearranging the napkins you had just set out. “Diagonal folds. Much more polished.”

You stared at her.

Then at the napkins.

Then at your swollen feet.

She smiled sweetly, patted your arm like you were simple, and moved on.

From across the yard, Bucky was crouched next to Jamie by the kiddie table, showing him how to twist the birthday candle so it looked like a little spiral. He looked up once, squinting against the sun. When he saw you? His brows furrowed. He could read you in an instant now.

Which wasn’t hard.

Because your eye was twitching.

Winnifred reappeared beside you. “Are you sure you want to keep the ice cream cake outside? It’ll melt in minutes. Maybe I should call the bakery and ask if they’ve got a freezer—”

You exhaled. Slowly.

If you didn’t sit down soon, someone was going to lose a limb.

And it wasn’t going to be one of the toddlers.

────────────────────────

The heat inside the kitchen was worse than outside.

Maybe it was the open oven door. Maybe it was the sunlight pouring through the lace curtains. Or maybe it was just her.

Winnifred stood like a statue beside the counter, frowning down at the stack of mismatched plates you’d just set out. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just pursed her lips and gave a slow, pointed sigh.

You braced yourself.

“That pattern doesn’t match the napkins,” she said finally, voice light as chiffon. “You’re going for a circus theme, aren’t you? The polka dots on those plates make it feel a bit more… luncheonette.”

You turned slowly from the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel.

“Winnifred, they’re plates. For toddlers. Who are currently trying to eat glitter glue.”

“Well, you never know who’s going to notice. Presentation matters.” She offered you that clipped smile again—the kind that was more threat than warmth. “I do want Jamie’s party to be something people remember.”

You stared at her. “You want?”

She blinked, her expression slipping for just a second.

You took a step closer. “I never wanted this party. I never asked for it. You did.”

Winnifred folded her arms. “Yes. Because someone had to. Someone had to step in.”

You scoffed. “Because I’m just failing left and right, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t say that,” she replied, lifting her chin. “But you do look… overwhelmed. The pregnancy. The boy. The job. It’s understandable. You’ve never really—well, you weren’t raised for this sort of life.”

You set the towel down hard on the counter. “You mean I wasn’t raised to be a housewife. Yeah. You’re right. I wasn’t.”

“I know,” she said, almost too softly. “That’s why I made sure this was here. At our home. Jamie deserves something. Since he didn’t even have a party last year—”

You froze.

Then turned to her fully, eyes sharp. “Sorry. I was in mourning. And up all night nursing a colicky infant while dealing with postpartum. And bleeding. And living off dry toast. Sorry I didn’t manage balloons and a clown.”

Winnifred tsked. “You young women and this postpartum nonsense. When I was your age I had James and Rebecca to deal with and I never complained. Women today just can’t handle—”

“Ma.”

Bucky’s voice sliced through the kitchen like a whip.

You hadn’t heard him come in.

He stood just inside the doorway, holding Jamie on one hip. His jaw was clenched. His eyes were cold.

Jamie blinked between you both, chewing on a toy horse.

Bucky’s voice was low, controlled—but sharp. “Don’t ever talk to my wife like that again.”

Winnifred looked up, startled. “James—”

“No.” He shifted Jamie slightly and pointed at her with his free hand. “She’s raising our son. Carrying our baby. Holding this whole damn family together. And you? You’re throwing plates and guilt at her like she owes you something.”

You swallowed hard, blinking quickly.

“She’s not overwhelmed,” Bucky continued. “She’s tired. Because she works her ass off. Because she didn’t just throw this party—she survived a war without me. She did the hardest parts alone.”

Winnifred opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Go lie down, sweetheart,” Bucky said to you, voice softening as he turned. “I’ve got this.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, turning back to the sink.

“No, you’re not,” he said gently. “And you don’t have to be.”

He crossed the room, pressed a kiss to your temple, and murmured, “I’ll deal with her. Go.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking to his mother—who looked like she’d bitten into a lemon.

But your legs were aching. Your back was sore. And your throat… your throat was thick with the words you hadn’t dared say.

So you nodded.

And left the kitchen.

As the door swung behind you, you heard Bucky’s voice again—low, cold, and full of steel.

“She’s not just my wife. She’s everything. And I won’t let you make her feel less than that ever again.”

────────────────────────

Bucky had never been so overwhelmed in his life.

Not during basic training. Not during covert ops. Not even that one time Steve broke a rib in the alley and he had to drag him home without making it look like Steve was half-dead.

This?

This was war.

“Where’s the juice—” someone called.

“He just took a bite out of the balloon!”

“James! James, the ice cream’s melting faster than we’re serving it!”

Bucky pivoted, a frown etched deep into his brow, trying to focus on five problems at once. He was sweating in his button-down, his hair was starting to curl at the temples, and the paper plate tower had just been knocked over by a baby wielding a party hat like a sword.

He rushed to pick them up.

Then someone tugged on his pants leg. “Excuse me? I think this one just put a crayon in their ear—”

He stood up too fast and knocked his head on the edge of the table canopy. “Jesus Christ.”

He hadn’t even noticed Jamie had gone quiet until he turned and found his son squinting into the sun, lips turned down in that telltale I’m about to lose it pout.

“Nope,” Bucky muttered, crouching fast. “No sir, you are not about to melt down on me—c’mere.”

He scooped Jamie up and stood, feeling the boy’s sweaty forehead press against his neck.

Jamie groaned softly, wriggled. “No nap. Wanna bounce.”

“I know, buddy. But you’re already gettin’ floppy on me.” He looked around, breath short. “I can’t—I gotta do like three things in the next—”

“I got it.”

Rebecca appeared at his side, hands already smoothing the tablecloth, her lipstick slightly smudged from chasing kids around with juice boxes.

“I’ll handle it,” she said. “Go get him down before he turns into a gremlin.”

“You sure?”

“Buck.” She gave him a look. “You’re sweating like a bootlegger and look two seconds from crying. Go.”

He sighed in relief, shifted Jamie on his hip. “Thanks, Becs.”

She smiled faintly, and he kissed her temple.

Then, muttering a trail of reassurances to Jamie, he ducked into the house and up the stairs, heading for the quietest place he could find.

Bucky paced with Jamie in his arms, whispering every half-baked lullaby he could remember from his own childhood.

“Down in the valley, the valley so low…”

Jamie squirmed. Whined.

Bucky tried bouncing. Rocking. Whispering nonsense.

“You got a real stubborn streak, huh? That from me or your ma?”

Jamie didn’t answer. Just blinked slowly, one chubby hand gripping the collar of Bucky’s shirt like a tiny grappling hook.

“Y’know,” Bucky muttered, blowing out a breath as he leaned against the banister, “this party was a dumb idea.”

A grunt. A hiccup. The threat of a wail.

“Okay, okay, alright—deal, soldier. Truce.”

Eventually, after what felt like the longest twenty minutes of Bucky’s entire war-decorated life, Jamie’s little body began to soften in his arms, the fight draining out of him in sleepy spurts.

“Yeah, that’s it…” Bucky murmured, brushing a hand down the boy’s damp hair. “Just needed some quiet, huh? Me too, pal. Me too.”

He moved toward the guest room—his old room, the one he’d once shared with Steve for a summer, the one that still had baseball posters peeling off the walls and a crooked shelf that leaned like it missed him.

He opened the door quietly.

You were there.

Fast asleep.

One arm curled under your head, the other resting lightly across the belly he hadn’t even realized he’d been watching rise and fall. Your hair was mussed from the pillow. Your mouth parted slightly in the softest breath. You looked like a painting.

Jamie lifted his head.

Saw you.

And without warning, he squirmed down from Bucky’s arms with surprising toddler stealth, thumping to the bed, crawling up over the mattress on his own steam.

“Mama,” he murmured, so soft it barely qualified as a word.

He tucked himself right into your side like a puzzle piece, nose to your chest, fingers curling in the hem of your sleeve.

And that was it.

Out like a light.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move for a long moment.

He just watched.

And something in his chest ached with it—that sharp, tender ache that came from seeing something too good and wondering if he ever deserved it.

He stepped in quietly, grabbed the thin blanket at the foot of the bed, and pulled it gently up over both of you. You didn’t stir, just shifted slightly as Jamie’s little body pressed closer.

Bucky knelt down beside the bed for a moment, resting his arm on the edge, his metal fingers brushing your wrist where it peeked out from the blanket.

His voice was barely a whisper. “Thanks for doing this. All of this. Even when you’re tired. Even when I don’t make it easy.”

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. Then Jamie’s soft curls.

Then, with one last glance, he sat on the floor beside the bed, back to the wall, and let the quiet take him too.

Brooklyn, December 15, 1947

The snow came early that winter.

Fine powder drifted down in quiet flurries, brushing rooftops in white, coating the windows with thin frost. Brooklyn’s streetlights glowed dim and golden through the haze, casting long reflections in the puddles turned to ice.

And inside Metro General Hospital, on a night that bit straight through bone, a girl was born.

It wasn’t easy.

Nothing about your life had been easy—and bringing Maggie into it followed suit. It was long, and painful, and loud in a way that seemed to crack something open in the walls themselves.

You clutched Bucky’s hand through most of it, dug your nails in when it got bad, and when it felt like you might break apart entirely, he just held you harder.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’ve got this.”

“Breathe. That’s it, baby—breathe through it.”

“I’m here. Right here.”

You didn’t let go.

Not even once.

And then—just as the wind screamed outside and the city howled with midnight cold—she arrived.

Ten fingers. Ten toes. Red, slick, screaming like she had something to prove.

She filled the room with sound, punched her little lungs full of breath like the world owed her from the second she landed in it.

And Bucky—God.

He swore he forgot how to breathe.

The nurse placed her on your chest and you both stared, blinking in disbelief. You were crying—tired, open-mouthed, whole-body crying. But he wasn’t sure he was making a sound.

Because Maggie.

Maggie wasn’t Jamie.

Jamie had been all soft cheeks and blue-gray eyes. A mirror of Bucky, from the moment he first opened his eyes.

But Maggie?

Maggie looked like you.

Right down to the slope of her nose, the dark lashes fluttering weakly against her flushed cheeks, the deep color of her eyes (even if it was still that muddy newborn gray). Her skin, dusky with warmth. Her little mouth shaped just like yours.

You were whispering to her—he couldn’t even make out the words. Your lips trembled, your fingers stroked her back, your whole body curled around her instinctively. Protectively.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered. “Hi, babygirl.”

And Bucky?

He sat there beside the bed, one hand on your thigh, the other trembling on the rail.

His whole chest ached. Like something holy had just cracked open inside it.

The doctor said something about congratulations. The nurse asked for a name.

And without even looking at each other, you both answered.

“Magnolia.”

“Winnifred.”

There wasn’t hesitation. Just agreement. Your mothers' names. The names fell like prayers. Like promises. Names that made each of you feel safe.

Magnolia Winnifred Barnes.

Maggie, for short.

You looked up at Bucky with swollen eyes and a tired smile and said, “She’s got my ma’s nose.”

And Bucky laughed.

Choked on it, really.

“She’s you,” he said, his voice thick. “God—she’s all you.”

She stayed curled against you that night, pink and snuffling and impossibly tiny. And when Bucky finally reached out, tentative, she curled her hand around his metal finger like it wasn’t any different from the rest of him.

He stared down at that small grip for a long, long time.

And then he kissed your forehead, kissed his daughter’s hair, and whispered into the warm silence between the three of you—

“I’m never letting go.”

────────────────────────

Brooklyn, December 1947 – A Week Later

The city was asleep.

At least, most of it.

Beyond the frosted windows, streetlamps cast faint pools of light on the empty sidewalks, and the radiator hissed softly, its steam like a lullaby. The apartment was warm, but still felt too small. Two bedrooms, four heartbeats, and a thousand things left unsaid in the quiet.

The monitor on the nightstand crackled.

And then it came—the sound. Thin, sharp, fragile.

A newborn’s cry.

You stirred instinctively, muscle memory from Jamie kicking in. Your body was sore, still healing, still not quite your own. But you moved anyway, your breath catching slightly as you started to sit—

A hand pressed gently to your stomach.

“Mm-mm,” Bucky’s voice rumbled low, not fully awake but firm. “I got it.”

Your brow furrowed, half-protesting.

“James, I—”

“Sleep,” he murmured. His hand didn’t lift. “You’ve done enough.”

You blinked up at him in the dark.

The room smelled like him. Like soap and starch and a trace of milk still drying into the sheets. His eyes barely opened as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of her.”

And just like that—your body relaxed.

Because you trusted him. Not just with Maggie. With everything.

The bed dipped as he rose, bare feet padding across the old floorboards. The baby monitor hissed again. Another cry. A hiccup. Then the creak of the nursery door opening.

You rolled to your side, one hand resting across the empty part of the bed, and exhaled.

He had her.

And you let yourself fall asleep to the distant, muffled sound of your husband whispering in the dark.

────────────────────────

The nursery was dim, cast in the pale blue glow of the nightlight shaped like a rabbit, soft shadows spilling across the wallpaper with tiny painted stars. The air smelled faintly of powder and warm cotton, quiet except for the rhythmic hum of the radiator and the high-pitched fussing of a newborn.

Bucky opened the door slowly, careful not to let it creak. He padded inside barefoot, his gray tee clinging slightly to the sweat along his spine, his hair mussed from sleep.

Jamie was already awake.

The toddler stood beside Maggie’s crib, clutching the rails in his small hands, curls tousled and pajama legs rumpled. His sleepy eyes blinked up at his father, wide and sincere.

“Baby crying,” he said solemnly, pointing with one chubby finger toward his sister.

Bucky’s heart did that thing—it squeezed a little too tightly in his chest, pulled by something so small and overwhelming he could barely breathe around it.

“Yeah,” he said softly, crouching beside him. “She is.”

Jamie’s lower lip stuck out slightly, not in a pout, but in quiet concern. His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to make it worse. “She sad?”

“Maybe a little,” Bucky said. “Or maybe she just wants someone to hold her.”

He rose slowly and leaned over the crib, scooping Maggie up with practiced ease. She was small but squirmy, red-faced and warm, her cries more frustration than panic. Bucky held her close to his chest, one hand supporting her head, the other wrapping securely around her tiny body.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you.”

Jamie watched intently, his head tilted as he followed every movement. Bucky gently rocked her, pacing a slow circle in the nursery. Maggie’s cries stuttered, caught, then ebbed into hiccups as her body relaxed against his shoulder.

“Sorry she woke you up, buddy,” Bucky said over his shoulder, voice low.

Jamie stepped forward and touched his father’s leg, patting it twice like he was giving reassurance instead of asking for it. “Is okay.”

Bucky’s mouth twitched into something like a smile.

Maggie was starting to settle, her whimpers softening into sleepy sighs. Bucky adjusted her in his arms and sat down carefully on the edge of the rocking chair, patting her back with slow, rhythmic taps. Her little hand curled into his shirt, breath still uneven but beginning to slow.

Just as he was about to start humming, the sound of soft footsteps padded across the wooden floor.

Jamie, with his curls fluffed from sleep and his tiny socks slightly crooked, toddled toward the chair. In his hand was one of his worn picture books, corners slightly chewed, the spine taped clumsily from how often it had been loved.

He held it up wordlessly to Bucky.

“For baby,” he said, voice sleepy but serious. “Story helps.”

Bucky blinked—something about the suggestion, so pure and earnest, swelled hot and tight in his chest.

“Yeah?” he said, voice rough with sleep and something deeper. “That’s a good plan, pal.”

He patted his thigh.

“C’mon up.”

Jamie clambered onto his lap with practiced ease, nestling himself into the right side of his father’s chest, legs tucked sideways and head resting against Bucky’s shoulder. He handed the book over solemnly, and Bucky took it with one hand, careful not to jostle Maggie.

She shifted slightly, her little head resting against his collarbone now, her breath beginning to even out.

“Alright,” Bucky said, opening the book slowly with his right hand, “let’s see what happens tonight in the land of Mr. Fox and his missing socks.”

Jamie giggled quietly.

Maggie let out one last soft sigh, the kind that let him know she was almost asleep.

And Bucky—holding one kid against his chest and the other in the crook of his arm—began to read.

Voice low.

Warm.

Steady.

Wrapped in the hush of the night, his words filled the small room like a lullaby.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling.

Brooklyn, June 1948 — 5 Months Later

“You’re going to kill us,” you said flatly, fingers gripping the edges of the blindfold. “I hope you know that.”

Bucky only chuckled from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window. “You’ve got no faith in me.”

“I’ve seen your parking,” you snapped. “And you’ve had me blindfolded for fifteen minutes—what if I get carsick? Or die? Or both?”

“Then at least you’ll die surprised,” he said cheerfully.

You groaned and shifted in your seat. “Bucky—”

“Pup!” Jamie interrupted from the back, kicking his little legs in the car seat. “I see cow! Cow, Pup! Cow!”

“Yeah, buddy?” Bucky glanced into the rearview mirror, grin growing. “You see a cow?”

“COWWWWW!” Jamie howled again, full toddler volume. You winced.

“I swear, if this is a field trip to a barn—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, patting your knee. “We’re almost there.”

From the backseat, Maggie let out a delighted little babble—one of those sweet, vowel-heavy sounds that came with spit bubbles and gurgled giggles.

“She agrees with me,” you said, still suspicious. “This is a trap.”

Bucky only hummed, the car rumbling steadily underneath as he took another turn. You could smell summer through the open windows—fresh-cut grass, warm pavement, the faint scent of wildflowers on the wind.

Jamie began narrating the drive in the only way a toddler could—“TREE! ROAD! BIRD! TREE AGAIN!”—and Maggie added her own commentary in bubbly, contented noise.

And still… the blindfold stayed on.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you muttered, “you better not be kidnapping me.”

He reached over briefly, squeezing your thigh. “Almost there,” he said, softer this time.

Something about his voice made your heart skip.

Almost.

The car came to a gentle stop, engine purring into silence.

You were still muttering under your breath as Bucky got out, the door shutting with a soft click. “This better not be a weird roadside diner,” you grumbled. “I swear to God, if you blindfolded me for a tuna melt, I’m pushing you into traffic.”

“Noted,” he said, entirely too amused.

He unbuckled Jamie first, then Maggie, and their little sounds and fidgeting filled the car like background music to your ongoing skepticism. You heard Jamie chirp excitedly, “House, Pup?” but it didn’t register—not really.

Bucky came around to your side, opened your door, and carefully helped you out, guiding you like you were made of glass.

“Alright,” you muttered, still blindfolded, one hand gripping his bicep. “This is where you reveal you’ve secretly joined a cult.”

“Shut up and walk.”

You felt grass underfoot.

Then a sidewalk.

Then gravel crunching softly.

“James…” you warned. “I swear if you got me a goat—”

The blindfold lifted.

You blinked hard against the sudden light, eyes adjusting to warm sun and white paint and red brick. A small, two-story house stood in front of you—charming in the way that made your throat tighten. A porch with peeling steps. Big windows. A yard that needed mowing but not fixing.

It looked… real.

Lived-in.

Possible.

You turned to him slowly, confused. “What is this?”

Bucky’s face was quiet, soft.

“The job at the auto shop pays good,” he said. “Especially with the hours I take. Been putting away every bit of it.”

You looked back at the house. At the porch. At the way the sun caught the little windows upstairs.

“There’s three bedrooms,” he added. “One for us. One for Jamie and Maggie. A backyard for them to run in. Room to grow.”

You swallowed.

Hard.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a folded paper—something official. He didn’t show you. Just held it like it made it more real.

“And one day,” he said, eyes meeting yours, “when I come home for good, I’m gonna carry you over the threshold of a real house. Big porch. Little garden. No leaky faucets.”

The words hit like a heartbeat echoing in your ribs.

You remembered them. That promise. More than five years ago. Whispered back when the world was black-and-white and full of war and waiting. You’d both been so young, terrified, full of hope you didn’t dare say out loud.

And now?

Now he stood in front of you, older, stronger, a little cracked—but whole. Holding this life in his hands like it had weight.

Like he meant it.

Your eyes prickled.

You looked at the house again.

Then at him.

And for the first time in a long, long time… you felt the tight coil in your chest loosen.

Because Bucky Barnes hadn’t just come home.

He’d built one. For you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

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sims-himbo · 2 years ago

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THE SIMS 4: BARBIE Legacy Challenge!

oh hi there! i haven't posted here in a while, but i just watched the barbie movie a few days ago and needless to say, it is now my entire personality. so here's my first ever legacy challenge based on barbie's many, many careers and achievements!

apologies in advance, this challenge uses a lot of packs! i'm sorry! i might try to make a base game version at some point

BASE GAME version

portuguese translation by @demaciana-sims

sims 3 version by @appaloosawhims

challenge rules below the cut

All heirs must be female and named Barbie. (non-heir children may have any name)

You may use the freerealestate cheat for your first house, but try not to use money cheats after that!

You are allowed and encouraged to use lot traits and rewards to boost skill gain, anything that’s in-game is fair game.

Packs you will need:

EPs: Get To Work, City Living, Cats & Dogs, Get Famous, Island Living, High School Years

GPs: Spa Day*, Parenthood

Optional packs (for the optional generations):

EPs: University, Cottage Living, Horse Ranch

GPs: Strangerville

*You only need Spa Day for the High Maintenance trait in one of the generations and nothing else, so it's fine to skip out on it.

You've been raised with traditional values: find a good man, start a family, be a homemaker... But you want your children to aim higher, so you'll make sure to set them up for success.

Complete Successful Lineage aspiration

Max Parenting and Cooking skills

Have at least 3 kids and 1 pet, each child must complete at least one child aspiration and they must all max out their grades in school

Must have Family-Oriented trait

Your mother was happy staying at home, but not you. You're ready to fight your way to the top and make enough money to support your family for generations to come.

Complete Fabulously Wealthy aspiration

Max Charisma and Logic skills

Max Business career (Investor branch)

Must have Ambitious trait

Your family is pretty wealthy, so you've used your funds to open up your very own vet clinic and follow your dreams of being surrounded by furry little guys all day! But it might be more difficult than you thought...

Complete Friend of the Animals aspiration

Max Veterinarian skill

Run a 5-star vet clinic

Have at least 3 pets and be good friends with all of them

Must have either Cat Lover or Dog Lover trait

You grew up surrounded by pets, and you now want to explore even more of the animal kingdom... So you're going underwater! What magical secrets will you discover on your journey?

Must live in Sulani

Complete Beach Life aspiration

Max Conservationist career (Marine Biologist branch)

Become a mermaid

Max Logic and Fitness skills

Must have Child of the Ocean trait

Your mother had an almost supernatural level of fitness at sea, so now you've been inspired to master fitness on land! You're determined to reach your full potential in physical performance and become a world class champion.

Join Cheer or Football team as a teenager and reach highest level

Complete Bodybuilder aspiration

Max Fitness and Charisma skills

Max Athlete career (Athlete branch)

Must have Active trait

Your family has achieved many, many accolades, and you've set out to capture all of it in an epic Tell-All novel that you spend your entire life writing!

Complete Bestselling Author aspiration

Max Writing skill

Write Book Of Life and bind it to your parent, use it to successfully bring them back from a premature death

Must have Creative trait

Movie stardom is the next logical step for your lineage, so you set out to conquer the silver screen. Will you catapult the family name into even greater heights, or will it now be associated with infamy?

Complete Master Actress aspiration

Max Acting skill

Must reach at least Proper Celebrity status

Must have a secret affair with a fellow Actor!

Must have High Maintenance trait

As the child of a successful actress, people may roll their eyes and immediately write you off as yet another nepo-baby trying to start a music career... So you must prove them all wrong by becoming a proper rockstar!

Complete World Famous Celebrity aspiration

Max Singing skill

Max skill in at least 2 instruments

Max Entertainer career (Musician branch)

Must have Music Lover trait

What's next after conquering so many careers and reaching worldwide fame for the family name? World domination, of course! Become the greatest Leader this nation has ever seen!

Complete Mansion Baron aspiration

Max Politician career (Politician branch)

Max Charisma skill

Must have Self-Assured trait

Now that you've conquered the world, it's time to venture out into Space! There's so much to explore out there, and Barbie must leave her mark all across the galaxy.

Complete Nerd Brain aspiration

Max Astronaut career (Either branch)

Max Logic and Rocket Science skills

Go to SIXAM at least once and bring a souvenir

Must have Genius trait

Still want more? Here's some extra Barbies that you can play with!

Secret Agent Barbie

Complete Bodybuilder aspiration

Must have Active and Geek traits

Complete Secret Agent career (Diamond Agent branch)

Max Logic, Fitness and Charisma skills

Become enemies with a Sim in the Villain branch of the Secret Agent career! (You may need to cheat this career level for sims outside your household)

Countryside Barbie

Complete Country Caretaker aspiration

Max Gardening skill

Must make all money from gardening, farming, wine making, etc. No day job!

Must own a horse and have it max every skill

Must have Animal Enthusiast trait

Army General Barbie

Must live in Strangerville

Complete Strangerville Mystery aspiration

Max Logic and Charisma skills

Max Military career (Either branch)

Must have Erratic trait

Scientist Barbie

Complete Nerd Brain aspiration

Max Scientist Career

Be abducted by Aliens at least once

Must have Genius trait

Ultimate Barbie

Set lifespan to long

Complete at least 2 child aspirations

Complete Renaissance Sim AND Academic aspirations

Max 10 skills

Have 12 or more traits

Graduate from college

Reach the top of any career

Have a house worth 1 Million Simoleons

Have at least 5 kids and max your relationship with all of them

that's about it! if you play this, please use #sims barbie legacy

have fun:)

#sims 4 legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 #ts4 legacy challenge #ts4 #the sims 4 #the sims #sims 4 challenge #barbie #the sims legacy challenge #sims-himbo #sims barbie legacy

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dandelionsresilience · 1 year ago

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Good News - June 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Victory for Same-Sex Marriage in Thailand

“Thailand’s Senate voted 130-4 today to pass a same-sex marriage bill that the lower house had approved by an overwhelming majority in March. This makes Thailand the first country in Southeast Asia, and the second in Asia, to recognize same-sex relationships. […] The Thai Marriage Equality Act […] will come into force 120 days after publication in the Royal Gazette. It will stand as an example of LGBT rights progress across the Asia-Pacific region and the world.”

2. One of world’s rarest cats no longer endangered

“[The Iberian lynx’s] population grew from 62 mature individuals in 2001 to 648 in 2022. While young and mature lynx combined now have an estimated population of more than 2,000, the IUCN reports. The increase is largely thanks to conservation efforts that have focused on increasing the abundance of its main food source - the also endangered wild rabbit, known as European rabbit. Programmes to free hundreds of captive lynxes and restoring scrublands and forests have also played an important role in ensuring the lynx is no longer endangered.”

3. Planning parenthood for incarcerated men

“[M]any incarcerated young men missed [sex-ed] classroom lessons due to truancy or incarceration. Their lack of knowledge about sexual health puts them at a lifelong disadvantage. De La Cruz [a health educator] will guide [incarcerated youths] in lessons about anatomy and pregnancy, birth control and sexually transmitted infections. He also explores healthy relationships and the pitfalls of toxic masculinity. […] Workshops cover healthy relationships, gender and sexuality, and sex trafficking.”

4. Peru puts endemic fog oasis under protection

“Lomas are unique ecosystems relying on marine fog that host rare and endemic plants and animal species. […] The Peruvian government has formally granted conservation status to the 6,449-hectare (16,000-acre) desert oasis site[….] The site, the first of its kind to become protected after more than 15 years of scientific and advocacy efforts, will help scientists understand climatic and marine cycles in the area[, … and] will be protected for future research and exploration for at least three decades.”

5. Religious groups are protecting Pride events — upending the LGBTQ+ vs. faith narrative

“In some cases, de-escalation teams stand as a physical barrier between protesters and event attendees. In other instances, they try to talk with protesters. The goal is generally to keep everyone safe. Leigh was learning that sometimes this didn’t mean acting as security, but doing actual outreach. That might mean making time and space to listen to hate speech. It might mean offering food or water. […] After undergoing Zoom trainings this spring, the members of some 120 faith organizations will fan out across more than 50 Pride events in 16 states to de-escalate the actions of extremist anti-LGBTQ+ hate groups.”

6. 25 years of research shows how to restore damaged rainforest

“For the first time, results from 25 years of work to rehabilitate fire-damaged and heavily logged rainforest are now being presented. The study fills a knowledge gap about the long-term effects of restoration and may become an important guide for future efforts to restore damaged ecosystems.”

7. Audubon and Grassroots Carbon Announce First-of-its-Kind Partnership to Reward Landowners for Improving Habitats for Birds while Building Healthy Soils

“Participating landowners can profit from additional soil carbon storage created through their regenerative land management practices. These practices restore grasslands, improve bird habits, build soil health and drive nature-based soil organic carbon drawdown through the healthy soils of farms and ranches. […] Additionally, regenerative land management practices improve habitats for birds. […] This partnership exemplifies how sustainable practices can drive positive environmental change while providing tangible economic benefits for landowners.”

8. Circular food systems found to dramatically reduce greenhouse gas emissions, require much less agricultural land

“Redesigning the European food system will reduce agricultural land by 44% while dramatically reducing greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture by 70%. This reduction is possible with the current consumption of animal protein. “Moreover, animals are recyclers in the system. They can recycle nutrients from human-inedible parts of the organic waste and by-products in the food system and convert them to valuable animal products," Simon says.”

9. Could Treating Injured Raptors Help Lift a Population? Researchers found the work of rehabbers can have long-lasting benefits

“[“Wildlife professionals”] tend to have a dismissive attitude toward addressing individual animal welfare,” [… but f]or most raptor species, they found, birds released after rehabilitation were about as likely to survive as wild birds. Those released birds can have even broader impacts on the population. Back in the wild, the birds mate and breed, raising hatchlings that grow up to mate and breed, too. When the researchers modeled the effects, they found most species would see at least some population-level benefits from returning raptors to the wild.”

10. Indigenous people in the Amazon are helping to build bridges & save primates

“Working together, the Reconecta Project and the Waimiri-Atroari Indigenous people build bridges that connect the forest canopy over the BR-174 road[….] In the first 10 months of monitoring, eight different species were documented — not only monkeys such as the golden-handed tamarin and the common squirrel monkey (Saimiri sciureus), but also kinkajous (Potos flavus), mouse opossums (Marmosops sp.), and opossums (Didelphis sp.).”

Bonus: A rare maneless zebra was born in the UK

June 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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asxgard · 3 months ago

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Masterlist for Dr. Robby

The Pitt

— Most my work is 18+. Anything marked with an astrik* contains explicit content. Minors DNI, you will be blocked.

— All work is my own. Please do not repost anywhere else without my consent.

Under the cut you’ll find all my works for Dr. Michael Robinavitch!

Series

Companionship masterlist (x f!reader) ongoing

Risk. masterlist (currently outlining)

Rough Day masterlist (planning on hold)

Multiparts

A Lesson in Vulnerability (1/2) | A Lesson in Romantics* (2/2) | A Lesson in Firsts* (alternate ending)

A Lesson in Parenthood (prequel) | A Lesson in The Good (1/4) The Bad (2/4) The Ugly (3/4) The Better (4/4) (outlining on hold)

Heartbeat (1/3) | Healing (2/3) | Handprints* (3/3)

casual. (currently planning)

One Shots

In the Vibrations - Sleep refused to take hold of you, but Michael never did.

Bedside Manner — After ignoring your symptoms for too long, Michael is forced to bring you into the ER.

Cursing* — Robby figures out what gets you all hot and bothered.

A Fresh Start — Forgiveness comes slowly, and you’re thankful for the fresh start.

Be. — You had no intentions of falling for the sad-eyed attending on one of your rotations. And yet, here you are.

More TBA

updated 05/06/2025

back to main masterlist

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch x female reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch masterlist #asxgard writes #asxgard masterlist

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anyarose011 · 1 year ago

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Anya's Totally Bitchin Masterlist

"Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call"

{Angus Tully x Reader} ->The Holdovers

Summary: Being stuck at the snooty, all-boys school your father works at is NOT how you wanted to spend Christmas (especially with Angus Tully...asshole). Still, the Winter of 1970 leading into 1971 is one you will not forget. A stubborn teenager, a professor with a stick up his ass, a woman with a heart of gold, and a mini feminist who's pissed at everyone 99% of the day (yours truly)...what could go wrong?

Tropes/keywords: Academic Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Young Love, Mystery, Hurt/Comfort, Feel Good, CHRISTMAS, and Found Family.

Chapter 1: "Bah, Humbug!" Chapter 2: "You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham" Chapter 3: "Emotional Motion Sickness" Chapter 4: "Too Late to Turn Back Now" Chapter 5: "One More Reason to Control Myself" Chapter 6: "December Never Felt So Wrong" Chapter 7: "Christmas Time is Here" Chapter 8: "The Most 'Wonderful' Time of the Year" Chapter 9: "Dimensions" Chapter 10: "Such an Old Fashioned Word"

"The Woman at the Well"

{Aemond Targaryen x Reader} -> House of the Dragon: Season 2

Summary: You allowed men to follow you in the dark for a living. One night, a man you never expected (nor wanted) to do so did just that. Over the weeks to come, you become...more acquainted with him. Still, despite how fun it is to dance with dragon fire, one must do their best to remember the chances of being burnt.

Tropes/keywords: Strangers to Friends to Lovers to Strangers (again), Mostly Angst, Little Hurt/Comfort, Somewhat Toxic Love, This story has a happy ending (but not in the way you'd expect)

Chapter 1: "There Must Be Something in the Water" Chapter 2: "Crawling Back to You" Chapter 3: "Nursing on the Poison that Never Stung" Chapter 4: "I Would Not Change it Each Time"

"The Favourite"

{Emperor Geta x Reader x Lucius} -> Gladiator II Summary: Once a lowborn girl of Rome, now a favored slave of Emperor Geta, hope at reclaiming your life comes when the return general Acacius brings Rome to a weeks' worth of entertainment.

Tropes/keywords: Minor Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Marriage of Convenience [Lucius], Slavery/Abuse [Geta], Reader is Sansa Stark coded, Scheming, Action, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, and Reader knows how to play the game [and not at the same time].

Chapter 1: "Et tu, Brute?" Chapter 2: "Agape"

"The Pas de Deux in Parenthood"

{Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader} -> Marvel

Summary: Navigating life as a single mother isn't the easiest (especially as an ex-NYC Ballet dancer). Yet, it can't be more difficult than the life of an ex-assassin Avenger, and newly made congressman that lives across the hall from you.

Tropes/keywords: Established Relationship, Found Family, FLUFF, Feel Good (for now...?), Bucky is best dad/girl dad coded, and Sassy child apocalypse.

"How to Get to Coney Island"

"Shame Was on the Other Side"

"She Looks Like the Real Thing (She Tastes Like the Real Thing)"

"Born Too Late"

{DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader} -> The Pitt

Summary: Let’s get one thing straight, Jack Abbott is your stepfather, not your biological one. So, to get another thing straight, you had no idea that the man you went on “dates” with at a coffee shop (and may or may not have had your guts rearranged by) was both your stepfather’s best friend and your new supervisor. To add to this equation, your roommate and her on-and-off again boyfriend make their way to your job. So, to sum this whole thing up = “Everything is fine.”

Tropes/Keywords: Dad’s Best Friend, Age Gap [Reader is in her mid-20s], #AlexaplayDaddyIssues, Shiva Baby coded, Reader is having the worst day of her life, Reader is a social worker because my girl Kiara needed HELP, Reader also needs help though, and so does Robby, you know what EVERYONE in The Pitt needs help.

Chapter 1: "Death by a Thousand Cuts" Chapter 2: "None of This will Matter in an Hour" Chapter 3: "It Ain't Me, Babe"

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nymphea0 · 6 months ago

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Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395 word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

#obsessed #possesive #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x darling #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere manhwa x reader #manhwa #cry or better yet beg #matthias x reader #manhwa x you #nevaerah

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plaidos · 4 months ago

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americans are so used to the reality of being able to go to a fucking planned parenthood and get HRT day 1 that they struggle to comprehend there are countries where people have to live through years of medical and psychological prodding before even being considered to be put on a waiting list. like how many of yall just rock up to posts about transmisogyny in the UK vs US just to say "urrrmrmm but you dont even know about red states.... surely theres no place thats rural and conservative in england!" country full of fucking idiots.

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Operation: Babymaker-- Ditch the Party...again

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

It's a beautiful day for a party, and Kento is a naughty, naughty goose drunk 🪿💛

And...LINK HERE to the original Ditch the Party

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink 💛

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"Kento! Are you nearly done? We've got to go!" You leaned out of the bathroom, smirking at Kento and the scrutinising eyes he ran over your niece's expertly wrapped birthday present.

Kento grumbled, mildly offended; "'Nearly done'," he scoffed, "as if I'd leave it to the last minute. It's been wrapped for a week." You padded over to him, pleased with your gift choices; a knight's costume (complete with sword and shield) and a glittery nail polish set.

"I can't believe she's five already," you crooned, fingers grazing over her gift, wistful. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kento smiled into your hair.

"I can't wait," he hummed, the prospect of parenthood filling him with fizzy excitement.

You looked up at him with sternly pinched lips, and an unwavering memory of your last badly-behaved-Kento party attendance; "Well, you'll have to wait. It's child-friendly today. The strongest thing going past your lips is pink lemonade."

You headed towards the door. Kento had the absolute audacity to look at you with total innocence.

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"Happy birthda-- oh, she's gone."

Leaning down to hug the birthday girl, your niece, was futile-- she darted away laughing, slippery as an eel, into the maelstrom of other children, several dozen boys and girls her own age who had taken over the garden.

The obnoxiously loud party music, screeching kids on the bouncy castle, bustling parents making awkward small-talk, and flamboyant party entertainers turned the scene into a sensory nightmare. You felt Kento lean close, his smooth voice grazing your ear.

"I'll get us a drink, shall I?"

Before you could turn and beg to go with him, he was gone, weaving back to the kitchen with a sly look in his eye. Other parents stepped back from you, the currently child-free sacrifice, and you were as a gazelle on the Sahara.

"Tag, YOU'RE IT--"

You squeaked as a child slapped your thigh, promptly sprinting away. You smirked, tying back your hair, ready to be the cool auntie.

Ready to be IT.

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Kento strolled through your sister's kitchen, nodding politely to the horde of strangers, catching your sister's eye and being beckoned over. She looked sweaty, and harangued, but happy.

"Kento! Drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled around behind her, scooping a ladle into an enormous crystal dish of juice, "Here, you'll need this, I promise. It's not that strong--"

Kento wasn't listening as two big red cups were pushed into his hands, and stared instead out of the window into the garden, his gaze meltingly soft and adoring.

He watched you, hair up, dewy in the Spring sun, laughing as you darted after squealing children. His chest burst, his head a montage of you and him and a fantasy child. Kento sighed, and took a generous swig of juice, thirsty after your long drive. He raised his fine eyebrows, glancing down into the cup.

"I don't normally like juice," he said aloud to your sister, who offered him a guilty little smile, "but this has something about it."

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Panting, and being congratulated by your watch for completing a good workout, you lolloped away from the crowd of children, who had now mercifully abandoned you for a live magician.

"Where is that man," you pondered aloud to yourself, as you poured yourself a glass of lemonade in the kitchen, "who promised me a dri-- oh!"

You slopped lemonade down your arm with a squeak of surprise, as strong arms wrapped around your waist, a wet kiss being pressed behind your ear.

"Kento! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left me," you teased, wriggling away to wash your arms at the sink. Kento hovered behind you, predatory in his affections.

"Leave you?" He began, low and sultry, "How could I possibly, when you taste so--"

Kento was interrupted, your mother leaning past him to give you a kiss. As you spoke with her, you reapplied your lipstick, and Kento felt a wicked lick of heat in his belly, all inhibitions thrown out of the window after three large cups of 'juice'.

Your mother left, and you turned to drape your arms around Kento's neck, ready to be held at arm's length in accordance with his strict ick towards public affection. With a jolt of surprise, you felt his arms lock behind your waist instead, holding you flush against his body, his light slacks and summer shirt (why was his tie loose? how were the top three buttons suddenly undone?) leaving little to the imagination.

"That colour suits you," Kento whispered, husky as his eyes flicked down to your lips, one thumb coming up to slowly brush your bottom lip down, shuddering at the lipstick coming off onto his skin, "but it would suit my cock much better, don't you think?"

You blushed furiously, trying to battle your way out of his arms as he chuckled against your decollete. Your frantic eyes spotted the punch bowl, your sister-- from whom drinks should never be accepted-- and a series of empty cups.

You stuttered up at Kento, feeling yourself throb against your will as his tongue darted across his lips, smearing the lipstick residue on his thumb onto his neck instead. You began to hiss at him, berating, squirming against him to release yourself from his arms.

Kento groaned into you, and you clapped your hands over your face to hide your blush; "Keep that up," he threatened, low and laughing, "and I might just have to tie you up before I cum in my--"

You dropped out of his arms, wiggling under them and whipping your head round to check for other people, before pointing a finger at him. You mimed zipping your lips, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, and Kento felt his cock twitch at you telling him off. You had backed away, but Kento smirked, lopsided, and slowly loped towards you, eyes hungry, backing you into a corner.

"Tag, you're it!" A little hand batted at Kento's leg, and he flipped smoothly, spinning and jogging off into the garden after your niece. You stood, red faced, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, and wondering where to hide to cover your sha--

"You alright? Looking a bit..." Your brother-in-law walked into the kitchen, and finished weakly, unsure if he was about to inadvertently insult you. You smiled, flapping your hand at him.

"Hot," you gasped, "running round after this lot!" He smiled appreciatively, offering you a cup of your sister's deadly punch. You took a swig before holding it away from your lips, coughing.

"What the hell did she put in this?" You sputtered. Your brother-in-law looked sheepish, at least, on his wife's behalf.

"Everything, I think," he apologised, "Kento likes it, anyway--"

"Oh, he would," you snipped, before excusing yourself to the garden. Unable to spot Kento amongst the knights and princesses, your neck prickled, feeling distinctly hunted.

Staring from treehouse, to bouncy castle, to little wooden playhouse, to game of tag, you raised your cup to your mouth, ready to chug a mouthful of Dutch courage-- and you felt a long-fingered, enormous hand pluck the cup out of your grasp from behind, hearing Kento release a hum of satisfaction as he drained your punch in one gulp.

"Gorgeous punch," Kento drawled, slipping one foot between yours and one arm round your waist, "let's dip your tits in it and I can suck it right off."

Without warning, Kento hooked one of your legs from under you as you squeaked at him, and he took the opportunity to heroically catch you before you fell to the ground.

A small cluster of parents looked over to you both. Kento dusted you off, smiling at you, and gently chastising; "you shouldn't drink so much at a children's party, darling."

Your jaw dropped. Wordlessly, Kento abandoned you and hopped onto the bouncy castle with your niece; you sputtered at the faintly judgemental looks from the mothers beside you. Mortified, you moved to the party food table, pretending to organise plates to hide how flushed your face was, and how you had to clamp your legs together to stop the throbbing.

Turning round once you had calmed down, you felt Kento's arms cage you in against the table, just like the last party, and you gaped up at him in mute horror. Kento maintained eye contact, brown eyes twinkling as he reached round you, picking up an eclair from a plate of party cakes.

"Cream-filled," whispered Kento, taking a languid bite, whipped cream pouring from the end facing you. Kento chewed, leaning close to you as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick cream off his lips, "my favourite."

You could have exploded, your whole body on fire with embarrassment and want. Nearby, your elderly great-aunt cooed as Kento appeared to lovingly offer you a bite of his pastry. You were silent, stunned; she reassured you.

"Don't mind me, dear, take a bite!"

"I'm-- I mean, uh--" you stuttered, and Kento smiled at your aunt, pulling you in sweetly by the hip.

"I think she's full, actually," Kento laughed with your aunt, smiling again as she walked off. Spinning back to face you, Kento's smile was gone and replaced by wolfish hunger again, "but not as full as you could be, all fucked-out on my cock, hmm?"

"Oh my god, Kento," you whimpered, face in your hands, now surrounded by children being invited to the table for lunch. Kento smiled, bending down to pass plates out, before pulling you aside again.

"Say it again," he growled, low and desperate, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long, "but next time, I want it because I'm pulling your hair."

You ran, positively melting, in dire need of a hiding spot. Zipping through the kitchen, past the living room, you rounded the corner into the hallway, finding the nearest cupboard, and darting in.

No sooner had you reached up, pulling a little string to switch the light on...than a hand, strong and determined, closed around the doorframe, pulling Kento into view. You felt faint, both hands pressed over your mouth to stop yourself from audibly gasping.

Kento never once took his eyes off you, stepping into the narrow shelved cupboard, and reaching up for the light pull. The last thing you saw before being plunged into darkness, was Kento removing his tie.

Your senses heightened, you smelled Kento's cologne before feeling his lips on your neck, shamelessly sucking you, tasting you. Kento groaned, loud and shuddering, and he laughed as you slapped him on the chest. You felt him thrust loosely against your belly.

"I love parties," Kento lied, and you scoffed.

"You hate parties, Kento, you just love--"

"Fucking you with words before squirrelling you away somewhere?" His mouth moved lower, shifting your shirt and bra aside to pull your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and sucking you just a little too hard, "Foreplay, darling."

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Kento's hair, his other hand making quick work of undoing your shorts. Idly slipping his hand inside and underneath your underwear, you bucked against his hand, Kento shivering with glee at your delicious wetness.

"Fuck yourself on my hand," he whispered, husky with restraint, "and we'll see who cums first, hmm? A little competition." You clapped a hand over your mouth as he curled two thick fingers inside you, so long that the edges tickled your cervix and you felt him in your belly.

The heel of Kento's hand pressed flush to your clit, and your hips stuttered as you rolled them against him, seeing stars with the friction, rutting down onto his fingers, holding him by the wrist.

Kento had already undone his trousers in the dark, and palmed his aching cock desperately inside his boxers. Whispering filth to you, sucking and releasing your breast into his mouth again and again with wet pops as he pinched your nipple between his lips, Kento wished he had more hands.

"Keep going-- fuck, good girl-- such a good girl--" he whispered, unable to stroke his cock for fear of cumming down your thigh, his head swimming with your velvety wet walls clenching around his fingers, using his hand as a toy to pleasure yourself.

Kento felt his high begin to creep down his spine, his balls clenching, biting lightly against your nipple and trying not to rip into you like a wild animal. As you felt your own orgasm creep closer, humping the heel of his hand, fucking his fingers as deep as they could reach for relief...Kento removed his hand with urgency.

"--can't-- can't hold back--" he shuddered, shunting down your underwear for better access, "--can't waste it--" Kento grabbed your hand, wrapping it round his twitching cock, and settled his weeping cockhead against your clit, keeping his other hand close.

Wrapping his fingers round yours, keeping himself pressed against your clit, Kento stroked himself fast, his groans building, until they tapered off into stuttering moans. You felt short, hot bursts of Kento's seed hit your clit, and fall into his other, waiting hand.

Kento shivered and swore to feel you rub his cockhead on your clit, using his cum as lube. He had gathered the rest of his cum, thick and white, on his fingers, and thrust them back inside you, not stopping until they grazed your cervix again. Positioning the heel of his palm against your clit again, Kento squeezed your thigh, pulling it forwards to encourage you to fuck his hand again.

You complied, Kento's seed giving you the lubrication you needed, pressing your aching pussy down around his fingers until you felt him deep in your belly again. Kento's mouth and other hand were full, busy with your breasts, kneading and massaging and pinching as he whispered encouragement to you.

"--got to cum-- suck it all up into you-- then I'll fuck it in even deeper--" Kento's drunk filth rolled off his tongue without a filter, going straight to your core, and your orgasm burned through you like wildfire.

Kento kissed you deeply, drinking your cries and whimpers down like liquor. Kento's strong hand thrust you through your ecstasy, feeling your pussy clench and suck against his fingers, leaving barely a trace of his cum behind.

Pulling his fingers out, Kento replaced his hand with his knee to keep you upright against the wall. In the dark, you blushed to hear the wet sucks of Kento licking his fingers clean.

"Ready?" He toned, low and devious.

"For wha--" With little warning, Kento lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pressing his half-hard cock into your pussy, still twitching from your recent orgasm.

Kento groaned into your neck, hot and squirming with overstimulation, letting your incoordinate shocked little thrusts suck his cock deeper, bringing it back to life. He felt himself twitch inside you, growing longer and harder as the blood rushed back.

Drunk on Kento's insistent need to fill you with his cum, you had tuned out the sounds of the party, letting Kento hold your weight and shuddering in delight as you felt his cock warm and swelling inside you. A change in the tone of voices beyond the cupboard snapped you to attention.

"Hide and seek!" cried a little voice in the garden, "You hide, and I'll count...one, two--" A flurry of little screams and footsteps came closer, into the house.

"Kento," you hissed panicking. Kento chuckled against your neck, rutting lazily into you, trembling with the bittersweet tang of overstimulation. Encouraging you to lock your hips round him, Kento looped his tie through the door handle, wrapping the tails around his hand and bringing it back to your arse you hold you up again.

"One more time," he moaned, suckling little red hearts into your skin, "I won't-- won't be long--"

Hearing Kento's wavering voice, so intoxicated by his need to fill you, you slipped two fingers down, shivering as you used the remnants of his cum to rub circles on your clit, deliberately squeezing your walls around Kento until he whimpered against you. Feeling you pleasure yourself around him had Kento reeling.

Kento began to lift you by the thighs, ramming you down onto his cock, now rock solid, and you muffled your squeals into his chest. You heard him growl, shuddering as you bit into his pecs, and it spurred him on to fuck you harder. Clinging on around his neck, Kento felt a rush of satisfaction as to your pussy quivered in response to his brutal pace.

"--so close--" he whined, his breaths hot and panting, fruity with the deadly punch that brought him to this, "--got to-- you first...fuck, so deep--" Kento's arms faltered, and you dropped deeper around his cock with a squeak, the jolt making you convulse with pleasure.

Kento came with a muted growl, biting into you, unable to press himself any deeper than he already was. Overtaken by the euphoria of feeling himself twitch and spurt inside you, hearing you trying to suppress your gasps, Kento thrust lazily into you, finally satisfied, panting as he came down from his high; you flopped against him, lost in delirious pleasure.

Your stomach dropped as you heard little voices outside the door. Kento held his tie taut as hands pulled at the handle, before declaring "it's locked!", the footsteps scurrying away. Kento chuckled into your neck, devious as you slapped at his chest again.

"You need to lie down," he whispered into you, helping you to dress yourself again, filled with anguish as he thought of his cum dripping out of you.

"I do need a lie down," you agreed, still giggling and love-drunk. Releasing the tie and taking you by the hand, Kento peered surreptitiously out of the doorway before spiriting you away to the living room. A set of little boys and girls, dressed incoordinately as princess-knights, sat playing with nail polish and make-up.

They looked up at you both as you approached, taking your rumpled appearances in as evidence of a really fun playtime.

Kento filled once more with wicked intent.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Lying back on the sofa with cucumber over your eyes, your lips were pursed as your niece plastered them with sparkly lipstick.

Kento sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, fingers splayed, nails now covered with nail polish of pink and red and gold and--

"Where did they get this cucumber?" You asked, sniffing, frowning. Kento's jaw twitched, answering after thanking a blushing little girl for her wonderful manicure.

"Sandwiches."

2K notes · View notes

hisui-dreamer · 1 year ago

Text

we are one

Characters: Trey, Ruggie, Rook, Sebek

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions

Word count: 4.5k+

Notes: im sorry this took so long lol, but part 4 is finally here!!

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Shizuka (靜菓) with 静 meaning "quiet, still, calm" and 菓 meaning "confectionery, sweets, pastry"

your daughter had silky green hair the colour of fresh matcha and golden yellow eyes that were reminiscent of fresh honey

you named your daughter after her father's dislike of noise and his culinary abilities that never failed to amaze the whole of Heartslabyul

she's rather a quiet child, not very loud but too quiet either

she gets along with other kids perfectly fine, and she doesn't mind sharing or taking a step back at all, always choosing to go with the flow and not get worked up over small things

honestly she's really a mature kid

also just really good at being a peacekeeper and stopping other kids from getting into big fights

buut she does have a mischievous side and may tease her friends when she's in the mood to

at home, she's pretty obedient and will listen to you, but there are moments when she sneaks around

loves helping you with cooking, and her eyes sparkle when she's baking with you

she loves sweets and desserts, but thanks to your warnings about her dental health, she does stop herself from eating too much sugar

is slightly freaked out about cavities so don't you worry, she'll never need any reminding about brushing her teeth or late night snacks

when it comes to school, she doesn't put in too much effort, but you can tell she'd be excellent if she cared more about her grades

which is clearly shown when fixates on learning magic, always so focused that you'll have to call her twice before she snaps out of her trance

you can't blame her for giving it her all though, after all, you've never seen her more excited than when you told her how amazing a person her father is, calm and soothing like a gentle summer rain

once she puts her heart to it, there's really no stopping her

so on another normal evening, as you were cooking dinner while she was studying on the kitchen counter, you found yourself enveloped by a soft light

when you open your eyes, you find yourself standing outside a charming bakery, the fragrance of roses engulfing your senses

and peering through the bakery windows, was the man you had yearned for all these years

It was just a normal day of running the bakery for Trey. With the sun on the verge of setting, he began preparations for closing, when the soft chime of the bell announced a new customer's arrival. He turned around, catching sight of you. His eyes widened in surprise, mirroring the disbelief in your own.

Before words could be exchanged, Trey rushed past the counter. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you as he pulled you close. The years melted away, and the two of you were transported back to a time when you always had each other.

"Is this real?" he wondered aloud, your hearts pounding in sync.

You nodded into his shoulder, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. He pulled back slightly, brushing away your tears as his gaze softened, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"It's been a long time," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

he's just holding you tight, crying as he thanks the heavens for being so lucky to have you in his life again

trey returned to his hometown after graduation, helping out and eventually inheriting the family bakery

he loved incorporating your favourite foods into the store's selection, adding some new desserts from your world that you taught him, and always reminiscing on those tender moments when it was just the two of you in the kitchen

he always knew you had to go home eventually, but that didn't stop him from wishing you could be his life-long partner, supporting each other through thick and thin

so he's beyond grateful and excited to know you and his daughter(?!) shared the feelings even though you were apart

he's rather surprised about said daughter, but there would be no denying how similar they looked

shizuka is a bit nervous, tugging your skirt as she stares curiously at her supposed father

but Trey very quickly makes her feel at home, his warm smiles and even warmer hugs melting away all her nervousness!

he closes the bakery for a few days to help the two of you settle down a bit

this involves reunions with friends and of course, the clover family, who welcome you and their granddaughter with open arms

the clovers are just really really glad their son finally has someone in his life and that he seems a lot more energised now

Shizuka is very quickly introduced to uncle riddle!! who is very surprised but delighted by the behaving little girl who seems to stick to him a lot

uncle deuce and ace also get along with her wonderfully!! especially when Shizuka wants to play around with riddle for a bit hahaha

don't forget uncle cater who flies instantly to meet his new adorable niece and show her off on magicam!!

the three of you settle into a nice rhythm and you help out trey at the bakery now

Trey is very very affectionate with you always, pecking you on the cheek or nuzzling into your neck any chance he can get

Shizuka loves helping out whenever she can too!! she loves learning from her papa and sometimes will just spend hours watching him work

all in all, a blissful, simple family that Trey had always dreamed of, but never would he have believed he was so blessed to have the two of you come back to him

Trey gazed at the young girl, her silky green hair catching the light in a way that seemed surreal. With a heart full of emotions, he approached her hesitantly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Shizuka, was it?" he spoke softly, the name lingering on his lips like a prayer. "It's so nice to meet you."

Shizuka's gaze flickered from Trey to you, seeking reassurance. With a gentle nod from you, she turned her attention back to him, her eyes studying him intently.

Trey knelt to her level, his heart racing. "I know this might be a lot to take in, but I'm your father."

She took a small step forward, cautious but curious. Trey extended his hand tentatively, offering a warm smile. Without a word, Shizuka reached out, placing her small hand in his.

A soft smile graced her lips, mirroring the warmth reflected in Trey's eyes. With a tentative but genuine embrace, Trey enveloped his daughter in his arms, tears cascading down his cheeks. Shizuka, feeling the sincerity in his embrace, wrapped her arms around him as well, a sense of belonging beginning to bloom within her.

Kenji (賢至) with 賢 meaning "intelligence, wisdom, cleverness" and 至 meaning "to arrive at, to reach, to come to"

your son had the softest hair the colour of wheat, and blue eyes that reminded you of cloudy skies

you named your son after how clever his father was, and his endless determination to reach his goals

he's a really sweet kid, always eager to help around and even others when he notices they're in need

you've heard about the many experiences his father had when he grew up, so you've tried your hardest to make sure Kenji wouldn't have to go through them, knowing it's what your hyena would've wanted

but even then, he's never complained about not having enough, there's a subtle wisdom to him that really mirrors his father

though he differs from him in that he's always willing to share, because he knows not everyone can be so lucky

he may not be too good at haggling prices, but his puppy dog eyes work just as well!

he loves doing chores with you, always smiling and laughing that familiar laugh as he helps you sweep the floor while he tells you about his day

he loves cuddles and kisses!!! his favourite part of the day is climbing into your warm bed to wrap his arms around you, asking you for a goodnight kiss and sometimes even bedtime stories

his ears and tails are a bit of a problem, so you keep his hair a bit long to hide the ears, or just say they're fun accessories

you've told him how his father's determination to support his family and community shined through even in unfortunate circumstances, the resourceful and intelligent man he became and you fell in love with

his blue-grey eyes almost resembled a clear sky when he listened to you, asking you more and more questions about this amazing person

he'll try learning more to be like him, but his kind nature stops him from being too schemey

he's not exactly academic weapon material, but he's pretty quick at absorbing information and putting it into practice

and with lots of determination and practice, he somehow manages to manifest the very thing the two of you wanted, and before your eyes was the man who never failed to make you laugh with him

As Ruggie's eyes adjusted, your figure slowly came into focus, revealing the very person who took his heart with them. "Prefect...?" He whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy.

His usually carefree expression shifted to one of disbelief, and then a bittersweet smile spread across his face as the tears welled up in his eyes. Without a second thought, he rushed towards you, sweeping you into a tight embrace.

"You're here... You're really here, right?" Ruggie mumbled, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded furiously, comfort washing over you at his touch. "Yes, Ruggie, it's real. I'm really here."

His hand reached up to thread his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head. "I'm so glad... So, so glad..."

he's holding onto you as tightly as he can, so afraid that you'd disappear into the light if he let you loose for even a bit

after graduation, Ruggie followed leona to become his official attendant, what with him knowing how leona likes to get things done, and his ability to pick up etiquette cues

he's also a great information gatherer, so he's perfectly able to assist leona with his foreign affairs

it's leona's voice that finally breaks the two of you out of your trance, him rushing over to investigate that weird light

the two of you pull back and you almost wouldn't notice it, but leona's smile has softened a bit from the image you had in your memory

Ruggie never expected himself to be a father, and things are going a bit faster than he'd like, but there's no denying he's absolutely grateful to have you and your kid at his side

almost immediately the next day, he takes you back to his hometown so you and Kenji can meet grandma and the neighbourhood

grandma bucchi welcomes the two of you so warmly, she even gets a little teary eyed when she sees Kenji, with him looking so similar to the very hyena she raised

leona and Ruggie delegate a room for you in the side palace, where they also live, so you'll be able to see familiar faces often

Kenji loves following his father around, picking up his mannerisms and wanting to learn more about being more schemey

Ruggie's a bit conflicted his angel of a son wants to learn his ways but even he can't deny those puppy dog eyes

uncle leona and guard jack also love spending time with him! though one of them pretends it's annoying

leona shows him magic tricks and jack will teach him how to fight! he'll be getting great lessons all around

Kenji is very eager to learn more and explore this world, so sometimes you'll have to hold him back a bit just in case he gets hurt

but you suppose with the splendid man his father is, you don't have to worry too much

Ruggie's schedule can be a bit hectic and he pulls a lot of late nights, but he always tries to make time for his family

they're the most precious thing to him in the entire world, did you think he'd let them go that easily?

"Dad!" Kenji exclaimed, darting over to grasp at the fabric of Ruggie's pants. "You're my dad, right?"

Ruggie blinked in disbelief, shifting his gaze towards you. "Is... Is he?" he asked, hope saturating his voice.

You affirmed with a nod, and Ruggie redirected his attention to Kenji. "Yeah... I'm your dad..."

Instantly, Kenji wrapped his arms around Ruggie's legs. "Yay! I've always wanted to meet you, Dad!"

Ruggie couldn't help but marvel in awe at the bundle of joy now clinging to his legs, realizing that this spirited kid was the product of your love.

Ayaka (斐佳) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 華 meaning "flower, splendour, brilliance"　

Ayato (斐斗) with 斐 meaning "elegance, beauty, grace" and 杜 meaning "forest, grove, woods"

maybe a part of you should have expected it, with how unpredictable your beloved hunter always has been, but you ended up having to raise twins

the two had luscious golden locks that rivalled sunlight and sharp green eyes akin to the forests in the summer

you named the two of them after their father's love for all things beauty and his love for forests and nature

the two are well-behaved children, though they can be surprisingly sneaky and mischievous

Ayaka is more outgoing and is always fascinated by the pretty things in her vicinity

while Ayato is more introverted and quiet, often silently following his younger sister and nodding along to her ramblings

he definitely appreciates beauty, but he's less vocal about it

and whereas Ayaka is more fascinated by gems and cute plushies, Ayato is more interested in nature, finding beauty in the moss, the trees and the insects

the siblings are just really really curious about the world and they love observing the little details, from catching beetles to keep as pets, to planting flowers they found on a hike

they really do reflect your hunter's wide range of appreciation

the twins love sticking to each other and they're rarely arguing

though they do fight a bit over who helped you more with chores or who you love more

they're very helpful and efficient, and though they may complain about not wanting to work because the other twin is lazing, they'll still get the job done

they love watching tv shows and dramas, often acting out scenes in the shows or in fairytales

and oh the way their eyes sparkled when you told the fascinating man their father was, a man who could control his own heartbeat, keep track of time so accurately, and with such incredible eyesight, who devoted himself to spreading joy and beauty

almost immediately they doubled their efforts in studying, wanting desperately to meet the man to learn his ways and see for themselves just how interesting he is

and just like that, the dazzling light gradually subsided, unveiling a world that you thought only existed in your dreams

you remember the villa, it's where he took you on vacation for the first, and supposedly last time

You hesitantly knocked on the weathered wooden door of the villa, the echoes of your anticipation mingling with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As the door creaked open, memories flooded back to the first time you entered this place with the man who had captured your heart.

Rook's usual stoic expression shifted, replaced by a mix of surprise and unspoken emotions. "Mon amour... You're really here," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper that hung in the air. Without uttering a single word, he enfolded you in an embrace, as though afraid you might slip away like a fleeting dream.

"I missed you so much," you whispered back the tears flowing freely now that you've felt as you savour the warmth of his touch and the comforting scent of his cologne.

He pulled back, soft brushes of his fingers wiping your tears, his eyes lingering on your face as if trying to capture the essence of the time that had passed. "I missed you too, so dearly..." he admitted as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, a rare vulnerability in his gaze.

this was the most emotion you'd seen from him, even when you said goodbye he kept a smile on his face

he's holding you so delicately, as if you were going to fade away if he applied just a bit more pressure

he's surprised by the children, but he instantly warms up to the idea!

he's remained a pursuer of beauty even after graduation, sponsoring artists while he makes a living through hunting and his film critique

he was taking a break in the family villa for old times sake, but it's almost as if the universe planned it all along

he's very affectionate with you, even more so than before, which you didn't even know was possible

always a warm hand on your waist, an occasional peck on your cheek, and every once in a while he'll feel the urge to pull you in for a hug

he tries to do everything for you so you don't even have to lift a finger, breakfast in bed, waking the children, even cooking and cleaning

he loves spending time with the twins!! teaching the two of them how to hunt and explore the forest safely

he'll show them pretty plants, and interesting fungi, all while explaining what properties they might have and whether or not they're poisonous

the twins are so fascinated by everything, their excitement and energy are seemingly endless

and who's a father to deny his children? he spoils them rotten

he also loves showing the kids a certain idol he's supported...

as well as films of vil!! occasionally talking over the movie to express how perfect a scene is or how flawless his acting is

and when the twins get to meet the vil schoenheit, they're beyond thrilled

asking questions, throwing compliments, all directed towards vil, but they're quiet the moment he tells them to shush

uncle vil loves talking to his niece and nephew, but only when they're... calm

uncle epel also loves popping by and giving the twins some apples so they'll get proper nutrition!

really, you'll have to step in to prevent your kids from being spoiled rotten

but you'll indulge Rook for a while, he's just blissfully happy with his family after all

"Are these...?" he began, his voice trailing off as he looked at the children with a mix of awe and wonder.

"Ours," you answered, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you delicately wiped away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. "Meet Ayato and Ayaka."

The hunter knelt down to their eye level, his usual face softening into a loving. "Ayato, Ayaka," he said, his voice gentle, "It's so nice to meet you. I'm your father."

The children exchanged glances before Ayaka stepped forward. "Hello father!" she exclaimed, throwing her tiny arms around him.

Ayato, the quieter one, followed suit with a nod, a shy smile on his face.

The hunter embraced them both, a warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes. "Such angels... Mon amour what a blessing you've granted me...," he sighed as he held them close.

Atsuki (惇貴) with 惇 meaning "sincerity, loyalty" and 貴 meaning "precious, valuable, honourable"　

your son had curly hair with the softest shade of light green, and piercing golden eyes with slits that reminded you of reptiles

you named your son after the chivalrous values his father had devoted his life to

he's a rather loud and excitable child, always forgetting to control his volume when he gets too emotional

doesn't really get along with other kids, but it doesn't affect him much, he's just happy to have his mama with him

if he's done something wrong, you don't even need to yell at him really, most of the time he's already holding back tears at the thought of disappointing you

very into sports and is also really good at several sports, he's earned a couple of medals and trophies already

he's not the best at magic, and you're also not too sure how his dark fae blood affects that, but he's still pretty good at making progress

he really is just a good kid who tries hard at everything and tries to make the right decisions, but he's quick to get disappointed when things don't go his way, and suddenly you're faced with a very familiar and endearing puppy dog face

so a lot of times, you'll just have to pull him in a hug, and remind him things almost never go the way we plan, and it's okay to accept defeat and learn from it

but there's nothing he's more motivated about than learning more about his dad, who in his mind, is an honourable, talented knight straight from the fairytales who devotes his life to protecting the people important to him

so much so, that you'll find him swinging around the toy sword you got him for training

he'll also start putting even more effort into learning magic, wanting to connect to his amazing papa in a way

and then on one night, you're not sure what triggered it, but he's incredibly emotional and crying about how he can't help you and you're always taking care of him and he just wants to have his dad in his life and it's all so unfair why his mama is alone and-

he starts emitting bright light, so bright you can't keep your eyes open, but you reach to hold him in your arms

when you no longer feel the bright light, you tentatively open your eyes, only to find yourself standing in the dark, spacious throne room of Briar Valley

and standing there, right next to the throne, was your knight in shining armour

Standing next to the grand throne, was your knight in shining armour, Sebek. He, along with Silver, stood in positions of defence, but the moment his eyes met yours, the mask of composure crumbled, and he rushed toward you with an urgency that mirrored the longing that had lingered in his heart during your separation.

He enveloped you in a fierce embrace, his arms securing you but also gentle to not hurt you with his armour.

"I thought... I thought I lost you," Sebek's voice was a shaky whisper against your ear, his grip on you tightening as if trying to confirm that you were indeed real.

"I'm here, Sebek. I found my way back," you reassured him, feeling the softness of his hair against your cheek.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he admitted, his words a whispered admission of the fears he had harboured, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

he's a mess the instant he sees you, and he melts completely when you're finally in his arms

malleus and silver are also immensely happy that you're back, calling lilia to join the family reunion

Sebek's pretty overwhelmed with your presence on its own, so silver and lilia have given him a gentle push to actually function and introduce himself to Atsuki

he's grown to be less awkward with his affection, and particularly with how long you've been away, he doesn't hold back too much

his hands are always inching closer to touch you, his forehead resting on your shoulder every once in a while, it's all really endearing

but his parenting style is a bit awkward

Atsuki really admires him, but that also makes him ever so slightly afraid of him

meanwhile, Sebek is nervous because he doesn't want to do anything that ruins the image of a perfect knight for his son

so they're a bit awkward, but with you as the middle person they can get along pretty well!

they bond over training, with Sebek teaching him sword fighting (with you reminding him not to push him too hard)

Atsuki also really enjoys sparing with uncle silver, who always lets him him, but Atsuki just wants him to fight for real, so it's just silver being "this is real??"

uncle malleus taking him out for gargoyle studies (Sebek is jealous lmao)

and of course, uncle lilia who cooks extremely nutritious meals that always end with Atsuki puppy dog eying you to save him

sebek's family is also very very happy to have you two!!

grandpa baul grumbles around a lot, but he keeps note of Atsuki's favourite foods to prepare them when he visits

also comments on his sword fighting and stance when he feels like it

mom and dad also adore you guys!! mrs. zigvolt loves giving you gifts and talking about sebek when he was younger haha

all in all, sebek's so incredibly grateful you could come back to him, and though he's still awkward with his affection sometimes, he'll never stop trying his best to love the both of you

Atsuki's eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father, the mythical figure he had only heard tales of until now.

Sebek's gaze shifted from you to Atsuki, and his breath caught. His eyes softened as he knelt down to be at eye level with the child who was undeniably his son. "Hello," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of joy and uncertainty. "I... I'm your father."

Atsuki's eyes flickered with a mixture of awe and excitement. "Papa?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sebek nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently cup Atsuki's face. "Yes, little one. I'm your papa."

The room seemed to hold its breath as father and son locked eyes for the first time. Atsuki, still processing the enormity of the moment, broke into a wide, joyful smile. "Papa!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Sebek's arms.

Sebek, overwhelmed with emotion, held Atsuki close, a mix of laughter and tears escaping him. "I've missed so much, haven't I?" he murmured, his heart swelling with love for the son he never imagined to exist.

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 3 ✧Masterlist

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callsigns-haze · 10 months ago

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His Shadow: The beginning

This Is Chapter 1 (masterlist)

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The Inner Circle noticed the change in Azriel almost immediately.

It started subtly. A missed meeting here, a late arrival there. At first, they chalked it up to his duties as the spymaster, knowing full well how deeply he was entangled in the shadows of Velaris and beyond. But as the days turned into weeks, Azriel’s absences grew more frequent, his presence more elusive.

Cassian was the first to voice his concern. “Anyone else noticed how Azriel’s been… disappearing?” he asked, frowning over the rim of his glass. They were gathered in the River House, the warmth of the hearth doing little to dispel the chill that had settled in the room.

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Feyre, his brow furrowed. “I’ve noticed,” he admitted. “But every time I reach out through the daemati, he’s always quick to assure me everything is fine. He’s been more secretive than usual, though.”

Mor, who had been unusually quiet, leaned forward, her eyes shadowed with worry. “I tried to ask him directly last week. He brushed me off, said it was nothing, just more work than usual. But… he looked exhausted, Rhys.”

It was true. When they did see Azriel, it was only for brief moments. He’d sweep in, dark circles under his eyes, his normally impeccable leathers rumpled as if he’d been up all night. He would give them a tight smile, exchange a few clipped words or go to his nephews, and then vanish again into the night. Even his shadows seemed quieter, more subdued, clinging to him like they too were weighed down by something unseen.

Feyre couldn’t shake the image of Azriel from her mind—the way he’d barely touched his food the last time they’d all sat down to dinner together, the way he’d flinched when Mor tried to touch his arm. There was something wrong, something deeply troubling, and it gnawed at her.

“I don’t like this,” Feyre said softly, her hand resting on the swell of her abdomen. “Azriel never lies to us, but it feels like he’s hiding something. Something big.”

Cassian’s hand clenched into a fist. “I’m going to drag him here if I have to. We need answers.”

But when Cassian did confront Azriel, it was like trying to catch smoke. The spymaster simply shrugged him off, his face impassive, his hazel eyes cold. “I’m fine, Cass. Just busy.”

“You look like death warmed over, Az. What’s going on?” Cassian pressed, frustration bleeding into his voice.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, shadows curling protectively around him. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

And that was the end of it. No matter how much Cassian prodded, how much Mor pleaded, how much Rhys tried to subtly pry into his mind, Azriel remained a stone wall. Implacable. Unyielding. Denying every question with the same cold, tired detachment.

It wasn’t until one particularly stormy night that Feyre finally cornered him. Azriel had returned to the River House, drenched from the rain, his normally sharp wings drooping with fatigue. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his face gaunt, his eyes haunted.

Feyre intercepted him at the door, blocking his path with her small frame. “Azriel,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “We need to talk.”

He looked at her, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes—something like guilt, or maybe fear. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, impenetrable mask. “There’s nothing to talk about, Feyre.”

She didn’t move. “Please, Az. We’re all worried about you. You’re hiding something, and it’s tearing you apart. Let us help.”

For a long, tense moment, he simply stared at her, the rain dripping from his hair onto the polished floor. Feyre held her breath, praying he would open up, let her in, let someone in. But then his shoulders slumped, and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Feyre. But I can’t. Not yet.”

And with that, he slipped past her, leaving her standing in the doorway, her heart heavy with a growing dread.

Whatever Azriel was hiding, it was tearing him apart. And if he didn’t let them in soon, Feyre feared it would destroy him.

The Inner Circle was united in their concern, but despite their best efforts, Azriel remained a ghost in their lives, always on the periphery, always slipping through their fingers.

It was Rhys who finally voiced what they were all thinking, his voice a low, worried murmur as they gathered in the dim light of the sitting room. “Whatever it is… it’s only a matter of time before it comes crashing down on him. And when it does, he'll open.”

They nodded in agreement, but a shared, unspoken fear hung heavy in the air: would Azriel let them catch him when he finally fell?

---

Dinner at the River House was usually a time of comfort and camaraderie, a rare moment when the Inner Circle could gather without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders. But tonight, the atmosphere was tense, the usual warmth replaced by a cold, uneasy silence. The kids played outside as the adults sat.

Azriel sat at the far end of the table, his plate barely touched. He pushed the food around absently, his mind clearly elsewhere. His face was shadowed, his eyes distant, and the weariness that had been growing in him for weeks was more pronounced than ever.

Feyre noticed the way his gaze flicked to the windows, as if he was counting the minutes until he could leave. Cassian and Mor exchanged worried glances, and Rhysand’s brows drew together in a frown.

They all felt it—the growing distance, the secrets he was keeping. But tonight wasn’t the night to push him further. Not when he looked so close to breaking.

“Azriel,” Feyre said gently as the meal drew to a close, “You barely ate. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Azriel looked up, his expression neutral but his eyes giving away his exhaustion. “I’m fine, Feyre. Just tired.”

Cassian opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Azriel stood, the movement abrupt. “I need to go,” he muttered, already turning toward the door. “There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Az—” Rhysand started, but Azriel was already halfway out of the room.

“Goodnight,” Azriel tossed over his shoulder, his voice a distant echo as he disappeared into the night, leaving the Inner Circle staring after him in stunned silence.

Outside, the cool night air hit him like a wave, clearing some of the fog from his mind. Without pausing, Azriel unfurled his wings and launched himself into the sky, the wind whipping through his hair as he flew faster, higher, needing to escape the concerned looks, the unspoken questions, the suffocating worry.

He flew over the glittering city of Velaris, its lights twinkling like stars reflected in the Sidra River. But he didn’t linger. He angled his wings and veered away, heading towards the mountains, towards the darkness that loomed just beyond the city’s borders.

The Hewn City was a stark contrast to Velaris, a place where shadows reigned and light was a rare commodity. Even from the sky, Azriel could feel the oppressive weight of the city, the malice that seeped from its very stones. But he didn’t hesitate. He descended into one of the darker parts of the city, where the narrow alleys were shrouded in perpetual twilight, where even the bravest of souls dared not tread.

Azriel landed silently in one such alley, the shadows welcoming him as an old friend. He folded his wings and moved quickly, his footsteps barely a whisper on the cobblestones. The buildings here were ancient, their facades cracked and worn, their windows dark and uninviting. But Azriel knew exactly where he was going.

At the end of the alley was a narrow staircase, worn smooth by centuries of use. He climbed it swiftly, his heartbeat quickening with each step. When he reached the top floor, he paused, gathering himself. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

The apartment was small, barely more than a single room with a bed pushed against one wall and a fireplace that cast a warm, flickering glow across the space. But to Azriel, it was a sanctuary. A place where the world’s troubles fell away, where he could be someone other than the Spymaster of Night Court.

And there, in the center of the room, was the reason he kept coming back.

YN, his love, his secret, his everything, was standing by the window, bathed in the soft light of the fire. She was smaller than him by far, her frame delicate, her own scars glowing, her features soft and kind in a way that was the exact opposite of the harshness of the world he knew. Her eyes, so full of warmth and love, lit up when she saw him, a smile spreading across her lips.

But there was a reason Azriel had never mentioned her to the Inner Circle, why he kept this part of his life hidden even from those he trusted most. YN worked under one of the pleasure homes in the Hewn City, forced into servitude under the command of the Hewn City’s lords. It was a dark and cruel existence, one that Azriel despised with every fibre of his being.

The idea of the Inner Circle knowing the truth—that the woman he loved was bound to such a place—was unbearable. He had seen too much darkness in his life, and the thought of exposing YN to the judgment, pity, or even the well-intentioned attempts to “rescue” her from that life, filled him with dread.

But here, in the quiet of this small apartment, she wasn’t the servant of cruel masters. She was just YN, the woman who had captured his heart despite everything, who had chosen him despite the four hundred and fifty years that separated them.

And in her arms was their newborn son, Knox, a tiny, perfect symbol of the life they had created together despite the odds.

The infant was only two weeks old, a small bundle of life that had already become Azriel’s anchor. Knox was asleep, his small, peaceful face a reminder of all that was good and pure in the world. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of them.

This was why he disappeared every night. This was the secret he guarded so fiercely, the reason for his exhaustion, his distraction. This was the life he had built in the shadows, away from the eyes of the world.

YN walked over to him, her steps light and sure. “You look tired,” she said softly, reaching up to touch his face, her fingers brushing against the dark circles under his eyes.

“I am,” Azriel admitted, his voice rough with emotion. He let her touch ground him, pulling him out of the dark places in his mind and back into the light of her presence. “But seeing you… seeing him… it makes it all worth it.”

YN’s smile was soft, her eyes filled with a love so deep it made his heart ache. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she whispered. “I told you that if coming here after work is too much stay in Velaris for the night.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, savouring the warmth that radiated from her. He knew she was right, but the weight of his responsibilities, the need to protect them, to keep them safe from the dangers he faced daily, made it hard to let go. “I just want to keep you both safe. And need you,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

YN reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her touch gentle but firm. “You already do,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just being here, being with us… that’s all we need, just as much as you need us.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around her, careful not to disturb Knox, who slept on, blissfully unaware of the world’s troubles. He held them both close, feeling the tension that had been coiled inside him begin to unravel. In this small, hidden room, in the arms of the woman he loved and with his son safe in her embrace, Azriel finally allowed himself to breathe.

For now, the shadows could wait. Here, in the warmth of their love, he was home. And this home is just the beginning of their secrets...

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