#if I have spent several minutes cleaning swaddling and

[runawaymarbles]

I am not particularly precious about my work and I know full well that this is probably a translation thing and yet I can’t stop gritting my teeth every time a client says “click a photo” or “take some snaps”

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Gibbs Has A Wife?

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 971

Warnings: Mild language, fluff, pregnancy…

Prompt: Gibbs has been knee deep in a case all week and hasn’t been home to you or your son, so you head to NCIS to talk to him yourself…

Y/N's POV

Angry wasn't even a way to begin how I felt. Livid, we are getting closer. Royally pissed off, that is how I'm feeling.

I swaddle the baby, a hand on my growing bump as I storm off the elevator. I saw his silver hair from where I was coming and his team looked at me confused. I stand at the front of the bullpen when he looks up.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs, I'm this close to being your fifth ex-wife." I grit out.

"Gibbs has a wife?" Tony asks.

I knew who they all were. Gibbs was fond of each one yet, he wanted to wait awhile before introducing me. He had a blast on teasing them. Jethro stands slowly,  paling once he realized how screwed he was.

"I'm nine months pregnant, we have an eleven month old and I have a job. Yet, I've taken care of every dirty diaper this week, every time he’s got fussy, I got him calmed. I've fed him, I've cleaned the house and made dinner every single night. Yet, you can't show up to have a meal with your goddamn wife? The mother of you two babies. One I spent over twenty hours in labor with and I'm dreading this next one." I snap.

"Y/N/N, honey...calm down. I'm sorry. I've been caught up in a case. I should've called." He says softly and I narrow my eyes.

"If you knew how much I wanted to put my foot up your ass, you'd stay the hell away from me." I snap.

"I know your mad and I'm sorry." He says softly, resting his hands on my hips.

I glare at him, reaching a hand up and slapping him in the back of the head. He smiles nonetheless, rubbing my belly as he stops our little girl from kicking.

"I'm more than mad, Jethro." I snap.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up. Ziva, come here. Meet your god-son, Leroy Jackson Gibbs. Let Tony and Tim meet him too, but keep an eye on those two. Mostly Tony." Jethro says, taking our son away from my arms.

He places a kiss on his head, smiling softly down at him before handing him to Ziva who smiles and softly coos at him. Tony and Tim stand, going to stand around Ziva as they smile down at Leroy.

Jethro grabs my hand and guides me towards the elevator. He presses the emergency stop button and we were left in the dark. He cups my cheek, but that doesn't stop me from glaring up at him.

"I love you and I'm sorry, honey. It won't happen again." He murmurs.

"I know it won't because if it does, I'm leaving your ass." I snap and he chuckles.

"I love you." He murmurs, caressing my cheek as he leans down.

I huff, looping my arms around his neck. He knew what buttons to push and when to push them. That made me mad, and this time I blamed that on my hormones.

"I love you too, bastard." I grumble.

He chuckles, slanting his lips over mine. It was soft and slow, the two of us wrapped in each others embrace. God. I've missed him. We pull away and I slap him in the back of the head once more.

"What was that for?" He grumbles.

"Your daughter is kicking my ribcage and bladder." I grumble.

"Turn around." He murmurs.

I do as told, his chest against my back. His hands rub my belly before he lifts my stomach. I moan softly, my legs nearly giving out from how good this felt. I lean back against him, closing my eyes. He kisses the side of my head.

I could stay like that forever. We stayed like that for several minutes before he slowly let my belly down. I turn around, pulling him into a hug.

"I missed you." I murmur.

"I missed you too, honey. I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better or at least call.” He says.

We pull apart, but he grabs my hand and we head back to the bullpen to see Tony holding Leroy.

“I’m your Uncle Tony. I will teach you all the best movies to watch. There are some really good old ones that I’m sure you’ll enjoy. Ziva here will tell you all the good books and McGeek…he’ll probably teach you to game.” He rambles.

I smile, looking up at Jethro who looks down at me with a soft smile. I look back at them, putting my other hand on my stomach. Jethro moves behind me, lifting my stomach again as he rests his head on top of mine.

“Mrs. Gibbs, he’s got your hair…but he has Gibbs’ eyes.” Ziva says.

“I know. He’s going to be breaking all kinds of hearts with those eyes. And please, call me Y/N.” I say.

“Be glad he only got bosses eyes, it’s a good thing he got your looks.” Tony teases and I giggle.

“Stop flirting with my wife, DiNozzo.” Gibbs warns.

“He wasn’t. Calm down, Jethro.” I say.

“You’ve got another one in the oven it seems. Do you know the gender and name yet?” Tim asks.

“Oh yes. It’s a girl this time. We are going to name her Caitlyn Shannon Gibbs.” I murmur.

“A-After Kate…” Tony trails off.

“Yes. In honor of Kate…she was a good woman. And Jethro’s first wife, Shannon.” I murmur.

“Little one has woken up again it seems.” Jethro says as our little girl kicks away.

I grimace, rubbing my stomach as Jethro continues to hold it up. I suck in a breath, slowly exhaling.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Ziva asks.

“This one is definitely going to kick asses, that’s for sure.” I chuckle breathlessly.

[2nd2ndalto]

Fall Down With You

Chapter 7

(previous chapter)

The little house is dark and quiet as Will lets himself in, just the light over the stovetop glowing. Nico always leaves it on for him when he knows his husband will be home late.

Will feels a twinge of guilt as he notes the row of bottles neatly lined up on the drying rack, the can of formula open on the counter. The pink booster seat wiped clean at the kitchen table, crayons and colouring pages shoved out of the way.

Days at home with two small children can be grueling, Will knows. When their daughter was born, they’d both agreed that it made more sense for Nico to take some time off from his studies than for Will to leave his job. Though he knows Nico doesn't regret their choices, Will’s never been able to completely reconcile the toll it takes on his husband’s time and energy, nor his own nagging guilt at not being able to do more.

It hasn’t been a particularly easy day at the hospital, either. Will had made a quick detour for fast food on the way home, in the hopes of potentially being able to drop into bed even a few minutes sooner than he might have otherwise.

He toes off his shoes, hanging his bag and jacket at the back door. He makes his way through the kitchen, coming to a stop as he enters the living room.

The scene there makes his heart swell in his chest, a slow smile blooming. It’s so at odds with the rest of his long, tiring day that he just wants to sink into it, press it into his mind and hold it with him throughout the rest of his working days this week.

Nico’s been particularly adamant about following safe sleep practices - babies on their backs on flat surfaces, no bedding - even though Will’s fairly certain that Nico’s lucid dreaming abilities could afford him a little leeway. Especially considering that neither of their children have shown the slightest interest in sleeping safely.

This is the compromise, then - Will’s entire little family sprawled out across the carpet in the living room. A stranger might think they had happened upon a crime scene, but Will has come home to the same sight several nights this week.

The baby, Emmett, is expertly swaddled, fast asleep with Nico’s hand resting palm-up on his belly - likely the only way Emmett would consent to unconsciousness. Nico is lying as far from Emmett as he possibly can be whilst still maintaining physical contact. Never to be left out, Nora brackets Nico’s other side. The toddler likely began the night snuggled under her father’s arm, but is currently stretched out perpendicular to the others, her foot pressed into the side of Nico’s neck. Her nightgown is twisted around her bare legs, her little toes painstakingly painted in ten different shades, like tiny jellybeans. Will recognizes Nico’s pedicure style immediately.

Will lets the warmth of the scene settle his bones just a moment longer before carefully tip-toeing in the direction of the shower. Nico sighs and shifts as Will draws near, blinking tired eyes open. He smiles when he catches sight of his husband, raising his free hand in a sleepy wave.

“Hey,” Will whispers, soft as he can, crouching at his husband’s head. “Everyone okay?”

Nico nods. “All good. You?” He doesn’t seem at all surprised by the small foot pressed into his jugular.

Will just rolls his eyes and Nico gives him a sympathetic look, no words required.

“I’m gonna shower. Want me to take over afterwards? Or keep you company?” Will asks softly, brushing a strand of dark hair off his husband’s forehead. He lets his hand rest on Nico’s head a moment longer. Sometimes, these days, it feels as if it’s been years since they’ve spent any length of time in each other’s presence, or in the comfort of each other’s touch.

Nico shakes his head. “Nah, I got it covered. You go get some sleep in a real bed.”

“‘Kay. Love you.” Will bends closer to press his lips to Nico’s forehead, and then to his mouth, when Nico tilts his head up.

“Love you too,” Nico whispers.

“Hey, I have the whole weekend off. No call or anything,” Will adds, sitting up again.

Nico beams, brilliant in the dark. “Now I love you even more.”

And it’s a little stupid, isn’t it? The way Will’s stomach still sometimes takes a leap like he’s launched himself off a cliff when Nico smiles at him. But he’s not complaining.

“Wanna go on a date?” Will grins.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” Nico says sweetly, and Will breathes out a soft laugh.

They both know it’s more likely that Will will take over baby duty while Nico tries to catch up on some much-needed sleep. But it’s okay. They’ve got time.

(next chapter)

[a-typical]

Everywhere I traveled I saw this death space in action, and I felt what it means to be held. At Ruriden columbarium in Japan, I was held by a sphere of Buddhas glowing soft blue and purple. At the cemetery in Mexico, I was held by a single wrought-iron fence in the light of tens of thousands of flickering amber candles. At the open-air pyre in Colorado, I was held within the elegant bamboo walls, which kept mourners safe as the flames shot high. There was magic to each of these places. There was grief, unimaginable grief. But in that grief there was no shame. These were places to meet despair face to face and say, “I see you waiting there. And I feel you, strongly. But you do not demean me.”

In our Western culture, where are we held in our grief? Perhaps religious spaces, churches, temples—for those who have faith. But for everyone else, the most vulnerable time in our lives is a gauntlet of awkward obstacles.

First come our hospitals, which are often perceived as cold, antiseptic horror shows. At a recent meeting, a longtime acquaintance of mine apologized for having been so hard to reach, but her mother had just died in a Los Angeles hospital. There had been an extended illness, and her mother spent her final weeks lying on a special inflatable mattress, designed to prevent the bedsores that can develop from long periods of immobility. After her death, the sympathetic nurses told my acquaintance that she could take the time she needed to sit with her mother’s body. After a few minutes, a doctor strode into the room. The family had never met this doctor before, and he did not choose to introduce himself. He walked over to her mother’s chart, read it briefly, and then leaned down and pulled the plug on the inflatable mattress. Her mother’s lifeless body sprang upward, jolting from side to side “like a zombie” as the air left the mattress. The doctor walked out, having not said a word. The family was far from held. As soon as their mother took her last breath, they were spat out.

Second, there are our funeral homes. An executive of Service Corporation International, the country’s largest funeral and cemetery company, admitted recently that “the industry was really built around selling a casket.” As fewer and fewer of us see value in placing Mom’s made-up body in a $7,000 casket and turn to simple cremations instead, the industry must find a new way to survive financially, by selling not a “funeral service” but a “gathering” in a “multisensory experience room.”

As a recent Wall Street Journalarticle explained: “Using audio and video equipment, the experience rooms can create the atmosphere of a golf course, complete with the scent of newly mowed grass, to salute the life of a golfing fanatic. Or it can conjure up a beach, mountain or football stadium.”

Perhaps paying several thousand dollars to hold a funeral in a faux “multisensory” golf course will make families feel held in their grief, but I have my doubts.

My mother recently turned seventy. One afternoon, as an exercise, I envisioned taking my mother’s mummified body out of the grave, as they do in Tana Toraja in Indonesia. Pulling her remains toward me, standing her up, looking her in the eyes years after her death—the thought no longer alarmed me. Not only could I handle such a task, I believe I would find solace in the ritual.

Holding the space doesn’t mean swaddling the family immobile in their grief. It also means giving them meaningful tasks. Using chopsticks to methodically clutch bone after bone and place them in an urn, building an altar to invite a spirit to visit once a year, even taking a body from the grave to clean and redress it: these activities give the mourner a sense of purpose. A sense of purpose helps the mourner grieve. Grieving helps the mourner begin to heal.

We won’t get our ritual back if we don’t show up. Show up first, and the ritual will come. Insist on going to the cremation, insist on going to the burial. Insist on being involved, even if it is just brushing your mother’s hair as she lies in her casket. Insist on applying her favorite shade of lipstick, the one she wouldn’t dream of going to the grave without. Insist on cutting a small lock of her hair to place in a locket or a ring. Do not be afraid. These are human acts, acts of bravery and love in the face of death and loss.

I would be comfortable with my mother’s dead body precisely because I would be held. The ritual doesn’t involve sneaking into a cemetery in the dead of night to peek in on a mummy. The ritual involves pulling someone I loved, and thus my grief, out into the light of day. Greeting my mother, alongside my neighbors and family—my community standing next to me in support. Sunlight is the best disinfectant, they say. No matter what it takes, the hard work begins for the West to haul our fear, shame, and grief surrounding death out into the disinfecting light of the sun.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death — Caitlin Doughty

[darkpetal16]

Can we see anything about the Jujutsu story? I'm so excited to see all the chaos!!

Sure thing! I'll take some scenes from chapter one. They haven't been edited yet and I don't have a beta so please forgive the typos / lack of description.

April 13th, 2000

Éclosion was a town of over 25,000 citizens in France. It was a suburb a few hours from Paris, and was known as one of the safer towns in France.

On April 13th, in the year 2000, the entire population of Éclosion instantly died from an “unknown” cause.

To most of the world, it was a bizarre tragedy, something to be marked down as an unsolved mystery for the history books. Each citizen had simultaneously suffocated within a few minutes of being exposed to… something.

Something that could not leave behind a physical trace of its existence yet was so overwhelming it simultaneously strangled over 25,000 living beings within Éclosion.

To a very small group of people, they knew the truth.

That town did not die by ordinary means, rather, from the sheer spiritual pressure exerted by a very dangerous being.

To that small group of people, they assumed it was the work of a curse.

Curses were created when cursed energy leaked from humans as a result of their human emotion. Cursed energy would build up in areas like sediment until it is strong enough to manifest a form. They were known to be lethal when left alone.

Populated locations such as schools and hospitals are hot spots for creating curses because many negative emotions were associated with those places. The same concept applies humanity's collective fear and hatred. An image of fear shared by the masses can create a powerful curse even if the subject was not real, such as famous monsters or ghosts. The negative emotions that humanity directed at that singular fear would cause it to manifest as a curse and in time… a cursed spirit.

Cursed spirits’ bodies are entirely made up of cursed energy--or spiritual energy. Their metaphysical existence made it impossible for normal humans to perceive or touch them.

Only a small group of humans were able to interact with cursed spirits, and in turn, combat them.

They were known as Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Jujutsu Sorcerers formed a society over the past thousands of years to work in the shadows to supress curses in an effort to protect humanity. All Jujutsu Sorcerers were trained in their youth at one of the two Jujutsu educational facilities in either Tokyo or Kyoto in Japan. At those facilities, they were taught how to utilize their own cursed energy in order to exorcise cursed spirits.

After graduating, alumni Sorcerers who remain aligned with the schools typically used one of the two facilities as a home base. Those facilities served as the cornerstone for the Jujutsu Sorcerer community. They mediated issues, assigned missions, and officially established a payroll for all their employed exorcists. The higher-ups were in charge of the schools and by extension all Jujutsu sorcerers.

Sorcerers would be dispatched wherever they found a gathering of cursed spirits. They were dispatched based on how strong they are in comparison to the spirit they face. The jujutsu society would rank spirits--and Sorcerers--like so:

Grade 4 - The weakest; a tire iron is plenty to deal with it.

Grade 3 - Slightly harder than Grade 4; handgun or something of similiar power recommended.

Semi-Grade 2

Grade 2 - An average Jujutsu sorcerer would not come out unscathed.

Semi-Grade 1

Grade 1 - “Even a tank might be insufficient.”

Special Grade 1

Special Grade - “Cluster bombs might work.”

For reasons not yet known to the Jujutsu community, curses and Sorcerers were most commonly found in Japan. While some could crop up in other countries, it was exceedingly rare.

That meant only a handful of Sorcerers were dispatched on rotation to monitor countries outside of Japan.

For example, France.

There were only three Sorcerorors stationed in France and they would handle the curses and Curse Users that appeared in France.

Three Sorcerers.

Who, at best, could handle a Grade 1 spirit.

But on April 13th that year something truly horrific happened.

A curse that had simultaneously slaughtered thousands of civilians within minutes of being born. Its mere presence could be felt by the Sorcerors not only in France, but in the surrounding countries across Europe.

It was only felt for five minutes, and then it vanished.

And so while the majority of the world was in a panicked frenzy over the mysterious massacre, the Jujutsu world was in a different kind of panic.

For a spirit that went beyond their measurement system had just been born… and they had no way of dealing with it.

.

<Skipping a scene here to avoid spoilers>

.

(Lilly - April 13th, 2000)

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Lilly stared in grim resignation at the hanging corpse. The woman didn’t even reach her thirties before throwing in the towel. The body swayed side by side, still warm. Still leaking. The woman hadn’t hung herself from far up enough to snap her neck, so she strangled slowly and painfully.

Dumbass, Lilly thought, finding it hard to scrounge up sympathy for the woman.

Woman could have saved herself the painful death if she just chugged sleeping pills with wine.

But people that desperate to flee reality rarely thought that rationally.

“Geh,” Lilly gasped, clutching at her head as another burst of pain shot through her. She was blinded, her vision going completely white at the influx of memories.

She fell to her knees, struggling to breathe from the intense pain. Her body quaked and trembled, unable to cope with the weight of her soul.

Too many memories. Too many lives. Too many deaths.

If she could forget then the body would carry on without needing her entire soul to be there. She could rest a bit more. She could sleep in death’s kind arms--

But, no.

Again.

Again.

She woke up again in a body too small and immature to handle the weight of her memories.

Lilly was what many referred to as an old soul.

It was not that her soul was older than the others around her, more so that her soul tended to retain the memories and knowledge of her previous lives.

Whereas death granted most souls a clean slate before their next life, Lilly was not permitted the same courtesy.

She was, mockingly, a Blessed being.

The pain subsided, the small body quivering.

How old am I now? Lilly wondered. Which world is this? Where--?

Panting, the old soul glanced around the house. Most of it looked like an average house on Earth from the early 2000s or late 1900s. None of it was in disarray so probably not apocalyptic.

Not completely normal though, Lilly thought, feeling how sensitive her spiritual energy was in her current body.

If was born in a powerless world, she wouldn’t have woken up. The fact that she woke up meant there was something about that world that made it special.

Maybe a Hero will be born here? Will a Story happen?

Her head throbbed again, her soul and energy aching from the strain of being awoken in a premature body. Lilly stumbled around the house, every so often feeling another spike of her insides burning.

It was not too dissimilar to swallowing lava. On top of the pain, she was nauseous, unbearably hot, and had significant difficulty in trying to focus on what was in front of her. Every step was a milestone. Her soul yearned to burst out of the fragile body, to preemptively rejoin death.

Not yet. I woke up here for a reason. There’s always a reason, Lilly thought. She fumbled around the house, searching for anything that could give her a better idea of where she was.

No computer. I think I see a landline phone, though, Lilly thought.

When she went to use it, however, only silence could be heard. She frowned, then hesitantly moved to flick on the lights.

Nothing happened.

Uwa… did I accidentally fry the tech trying to contain my energy? Lilly wanted to groan.

She hated being reborn in tech-sensitive worlds. If her spiritual energy was too overwhelmign for the technology, it became such a hassle. It meant she had to consciously filter, repress, and refine her energy any time she had to use it when around technology.

Whatever.

Time to find a neighbor then, she thought.

Stepping outside the house, Lilly found a bizarre scene. There was a mailman who collapsed right at the door, and judging from how still he was, she could tell he wasn’t breathing.

Lilly stared at the dead body. She looked up and found several crashed cards and more dead bodies.

Oh.

“Oops,” she said.

.

<Skipping several scenes & time skip>

.

March 8, 2001

Lilly was minding her own business the following day. Yuuta was swaddled and placed in a baby wrap carrier that Lilly tied around herself. She kept his head well supported, it rested in the crook of her neck.

It had been a while since she had repeatedly cast so many illusionary and compulsion spells. She knew it couldn’t be helped--she was in the body of a seven-year old, of course the adults wouldn’t take her too seriously.

She had finished authenticating his birth certificate, adoption papers, and was on her way to handle funeral arrangements for his mother. Lilly had already made a few tentative and brief ventures into the world to steal (shamelessly) steal money so she had cash on hand in case the woman hadn’t made prior plans for herself--which guessing by how optimistic she was, Lilly assumed the answer was no.

Yuuta was an easy crier, which made what would have been a thirty-minute errand into a two-hour errand since a lot of that time was spent soothing the infant.

Lilly could feel he had more spiritual energy inside him than some of the adults she had previously encountered, but it was still growing.

If her hunch was correct and he was a protagonist--or antagonist--then she figured his energy would only continue to grow.

Maybe I should start feeding him some of mine? Lilly pondered. If she doubled or tripled the raw power of someone important, what would Fate do? Would it increase the power levels of everyone else to match, or would it give away under her pressure?

She didn’t know the story--if there was one in that world--so she had no way of knowing what to anticipate. She could only catch the common signs and draw her own predictions from her past experiences.

Let’s find out, Lilly thought.

<Scenebreak>

Daiki Choki was had recently completed his mission to vanquish an A-Grade Curse at a nearby graveyard. It had gone much smoother than he anticipated, and the Jujutsu Sorcerer was looking forward to his pay.

As he was leaving the graveyard, however, he felt something… odd.

It was indescribable. A sensation he had never encountered.

Similar… very similar… to encountering a powerful Curse, but…

It was a Curse, yet it was not.

It clearly had a presence. He felt an uncomfortable heat wash over him, as if the thing was projecting an aura of fire, but it was not malicious. Curses were filled with malevolent bloodlust, but what he felt lacked that intensity.

It was still dangerous, that heat.

Perhaps not directly evil, but…

If he had to put it into words, it was as if he had stumbled across a forest fire. The fire held no ill-will, but it was still a dangerous force that if left unchecked would devour the entire forest.

Daiki did not feel that it was especially powerful, however, so he made his way over to it.

To his surprise, it took the form of a small girl holding something in a budle of cloth. She was entering the funeral parlor.

Daiki frowned. Curses had never looked human before.

Suppose there’s always a chance it’s possessing her corpse, Daiki thought. He may not have encountered that specific scenario before, but he didn’t see a reason why it couldn’t happen.

Curses weren’t human, but they were tricky by nature.

Daiki lingered outside the mortician’s office, wondering if he would need to follow after the curse. He hated fighting near civilians, but--

The Curse left, as if sensing something was wrong.

But that’s silly, thought Daiki.

It headed straight past the building, making its way to the graves behind. Daiki followed behind it, slowly pulling his gun.

The Curse stopped, turning around to face Daiki. Its eyes were a vibrant red.

“Why are you focusing on me?” it asked.

Oddly articulate for a curse, the Sorcerer thought, raising his gun and taking aim. He smirked. “Don’t worry about it, Curse.”

“Curse? What--?”

He fired, and then his whole world tilted upside down. He hadn’t even felt it happening, let alone seen it, but somehow his head had been chopped off his body the moment he pulled the trigger. The Curse, who had been several steps ahead of him, was suddenly crushing his gun in her bare hand, scowling at him.

“If I had let that gone off, you woulda woken him,” she scolded the decapitated head. “Rude.”

[the-water-nixie]

Fic: Bundle

I somehow managed to finish a (short) fic for the first time in years. 

Read on AO3.

Happy Birthday, Lan Xichen! 

It is not a grand revelation which brings Lan Xichen out of his self-imposed seclusion. His grief does not dry up overnight, nor does his guilt stop eating at him like flies on too-ripe fruit. All of those things remain, and he still continues to feel lessened and unworthy of his place, of his titles.

As it turns out, what brings Lan Xichen out of seclusion is a child.

It is still early when he hears heavy footfalls outside. He ignores them at first and stares blankly into his tea. He hasn’t been tasting it, not really, everything has been consumed perfunctorily and only because he promised Wangji he would look after himself—it is the very same promise he had procured from Wangji during his own seclusion, when he was being eaten by his own guilt and grief. He cannot ignore, however, the rapid-fire knocks against the door or the call of his own name. He sighs.

“Zewu-jun! I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to bother you. Lan Zhan said not to, but it’s an emergency.”

The word emergency sets him on his feet. Images of his own father refusing to leave his seclusion while the Cloud Recesses burned around him flash through Xichen’s mind. He opens the door to find Wei Wuxian about to knock a second time. The sheepish expression that paints his face is relieving; there is obviously no true emergency. As Xichen studies him before permitting his entrance, Wei Wuxian shifts around nervously on the porch and readjusts the bundle of blankets he has nestled in his arms. 

Xichen raises an eyebrow in question.

“Lan Zhan is away with the junior disciples and normally I would go with them, but I was away doing a thing with Jin Ling and I got back later than I was expecting and—anyway. I need a second pair of hands, you know? Because, it’s a bit complicated. I mean, more complicated than anything I’ve dealt with before. And with Lan Zhan gone, and the kids… Well, there is no one left here who likes me besides the baby Lan disciples. And I think their hands are probably too small to help.”

Wei Wuxian punctuates his spiel with a self-conscious laugh and rubs a finger over his nose. “Not that you, uh, like me. But I thought you might still help.”

His words break Xichen’s resolve to send him away to find help elsewhere. He wonders how Wangji would feel, knowing his husband considers himself so wholly disliked in the place where they make their home. He knows his brother, and he would likely pack up and leave the Cloud Recesses with his husband in tow. No ones wants that, least of all Xichen.

“I like you just fine, Wei-gongzi,” he says, and he finds nothing but truth in his statement. He steps to the side, allowing his brother-in-law entrance to his home.

Before he can close the door behind them, a golden Jin messenger butterfly flutters inside and up to Wei Wuxian. A lump lodges itself in Xichen’s throat. That is not something he had expected to see in the Cloud Recesses again, nor had he wanted to.

Wei Wuxian smiles and it looks like an apology. “Oh, there’s Jin Ling now,” he says. He  struggles with the bundle in his arms, looking from the butterfly to the bundle and back again. The butterfly is getting insistent, fluttering against Wei Wuxian’s face. “These stupid butterflies,” he mutters. “They’ll bash themselves into the side of your head until you acknowledge the damn things.” He looks down at the bundle again and then nods decisively. “Um, here.” And he leans forward and hands off the bundle to Xichen.

Xichen nearly drops it in shock. The blankets part and a tiny face pokes out. It coos up at him and blows a spit bubble. “Wei-gongzi! This is—This is a child.”

Wei Wuxian ignores his panic. “Ah, that Jin Ling. Always pretends to be so tough but he’s already checking on me to see if I got back all right. So much like Jiang Cheng. Is that a case of nature or nurture, do you think? Like say with Sizhui—he’s so polite and kind and thoughtful. Would he have always been that way, or did he turn out so great because he was raised by Lan Zhan? And you as well, Zewu-jun. He told me he spent a lot of time with you as a child.”

Wei Wuxian smiles at him.

“Wei-gongzi!”

“Hmm?”

Xichen lifts the baby minutely and widens his eyes. “This child?”

“Oh, right. She’s mine! I gave birth to her.” He laughs at his own joke but his laughter peters off quickly at Xichen’s narrowed eyes. “Aiya, you didn’t fall for that like Lan Zhan, huh? Fine, fine. Well, I kind of found her? We were interviewing the locals about a nearby haunting and she was living with a midwife there. Poor thing—both parents dead. Her father died before she was born and then her mother giving birth to her. The midwife was struggling, what with her own duties and children. And I thought, Lan Zhan loves babies. He should have as many babies as he wants, you know? So I said I would take her. Once I told the midwife my husband is Hanguang-jun she practically threw the baby at me. If I was even more shameless than I am I would namedrop Hanguang-jun far more often. People give me so much free stuff. Wine and food and little trinkets—”

“And babies?”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breathless laugh like it surprises him. “Ah, Zewu-jun. You and Lan Zhan are both so funny. Who knew Lans could be so funny?”

Xichen ignores him to focus on the problem at hand. In his hands. Currently. He should probably give it back to Wei Wuxian because it’s starting to wriggle and squawk at him. He knows nothing about babies. How is he meant to help? Even the smallest disciples with their tiny hands would be better than him. “What about a wet nurse? You can’t just bring her here without…”

“Oh, she can eat solid food. Also, milk. So, um, we have a goat now.” He looks sheepish again. “Apparently I am determined to populate the Cloud Recesses with all sorts of animals. Haha, but look, she has some itty little teeth.”

He pulls the child from the blanket swaddle and lifts her so she is facing Xichen. She stops her irritated squawks and stares at him, mouth open and big, dark eyes blinking slowly. And then she smiles. She is the most adorable thing Xichen has seen since he was presented with his own tiny brother. “Cute, right?” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan is going to melt into a sappy puddle of goo.”

Melting into a puddle a goo is exactly what Xichen feels as though he himself is doing. He reaches out to take the child again. Wei Wuxian had said he needed an extra pair of hands after all. “Let me. You must be tired from carrying her all this way.”

The smile Wei Wuxian gives him is pleased. He places the baby in Xichen’s arms and then wipes the drool from her mouth with one of the blankets. Inside her mouth Xichen can see that she does in fact have several tiny teeth. They bite into the fabric of the blanket and she grumbles. It almost sounds like a kitten’s growls. “Be careful with your fingers near her mouth. The midwife said she’s teething. She bites.”

“Oh dear,” Xichen says. Is it normal for babies to bite? Is there something wrong with this one?

“Aiya, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Wei Wuxian says. He waves his hand in the air. “Her little teeth aren’t so sharp.” As if that clears everything up. “And as soon as Lan Zhan gets here, he will make her stop. They all just listen to what he says the first time he tells them.”

Xichen is amused and gratified by Wei Wuxian’s faith in Wangji’s abilities, but even Wangji has never dealt with so small a child. Babies probably don’t follow rules.

The baby grumbles and starts smacking one tiny fist against Xichen’s shoulder.

“Okay, you’re hungry again, I get it,” Wei Wuxian tells her. “No need to clobber your poor bobo. He’s only just met you, give him a better first impression.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head at the baby. He looks up at Xichen and sighs mournfully. “She eats all the time,” he says. “And barely ever sleeps. Barely ever.”

Then he plops himself down at the low table and begins removing a multitude of small dishes from the bag he has slung over his shoulder.

Bobo. Even Lan Sizhui had rarely called him by the name when he was small. But every time he had, Xichen had felt a spark of warmth in his chest. He had always wished Sizhui had been comfortable enough to continue with the title. But alas, once he had started training with the other disciples he had stopped calling Xichen bobo altogether.

This time he will insist on it, he decides, looking down at his new niece as she gags herself on the corner of her blanket. He pulls it from her mouth with a cringe and she squawks at him, her brow furrowed. “Sorry little one,” he says in a quiet voice. “You are going to hurt yourself.” She blows another spit bubble.

“What’s her name?”

Wei Wuxian continues to mix food in the dishes. “She doesn’t have one yet. The midwife gave her a milk name, but she said she didn’t feel right naming her when she knew she couldn’t actually raise her. I’ll let Lan Zhan do it. He’ll pick something good.” He holds up a small bamboo spoon with a smile. “Do you want to feed her? You don’t have to—she gets the whole room messy when she eats, so I can—”

“I will do it.” Xichen sits her up in his lap and reaches for the spoon.  

She does in fact get food everywhere. Maybe Xichen should care about the indignity of a sect leader with clumps of congee drying in his hair and spit and milk on his robes, but he can’t seem to stop smiling.

Wei Wuxian laughs as he cleans the food from the downy hair’s of the baby’s eyebrows. “Little one, you are a mess,” he says. Her eyes blink slowly up at them. “Thank the gods, she’s getting sleepy.”

She falls asleep in Xichen’s arms. He rocks her slowly, humming a song his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He runs a hand over her soft cheeks. He can’t recall when he last felt so content, so at peace. He almost wishes Wei Wuxian would leave her here, but he knows he will soon want to head back to the jingshi and await Wangji’s return. When Xichen looks up from the baby to ask him, he finds Wei Wuxian himself fast asleep, curled up by the table and snoring quietly.

~0~

The next time Xichen sees his niece, she is with Wangji.    

“I know you have met her already, and I am sorry for disrupting your seclusion, Xiongzhang. It felt right to introduce you formally, as she is your niece.”

Xichen smiles. “You’ve chosen a name then?”

“Mm.” Wangji runs his fingertips softly over the baby’s dark hair. “Lan Xing.”

“A good name. You must have been surprised to find her with Wei-gongzi when you returned home.”

The corners of Wangji’s mouth turn up; his eyes are soft and happy. It makes Xichen’s heart glad. He must remember to thank Wei Wuxian for this and many other things.

“Wei Ying is very good at surprises,” Wangji says. He leans forward and kisses the baby on the forehead. “Would you like to hold her?”

Xichen does. They sit in the quiet for awhile, watching as she snoozes in his arms.

“Your happiness is a balm to my soul, Wangji,” Xichen says as Wangji readies himself to take his leave. And for the first time in many years, Wangji reaches out and grasps Xichen’s hand.

“You will get there, Xiongzhang. I once thought I would never— It will be better.”

Xichen squeezes his brother’s hand and thinks perhaps.

~0~

A week later Wei Wuxian comes back to see Xichen with little Lan Xing is tow. His entire countenance screams desperation.

“Do you think you could maybe watch her? Just for an hour. Well, let’s say two or three hours. At least.” He holds the baby out towards Xichen. “If I don’t spend some alone time with Lan Zhan I’m going to kill myself.”

Xichen takes the baby. She giggles and immediately starts babbling and gnawing on her fist.

“Don’t tell Lan Zhan I said that. Gods, I should know better than to make that joke. It makes him so upset.” Wei Wuxian scrubs a hand over his face and forces a laugh. “Who knew orgasms were the only thing keeping me sane? Too bad I didn’t figure that out in my last life, right? Hahaha, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

Xichen decides he should probably save his poor brother-in-law from himself. “Wei-gongzi, it’s fine. Please go spend some time with Wangji. I will watch A-Xing.”

Wei Wuxian falls all over himself thanking him, then bows deeply and books it out of the door. “No running in Cloud Recesses.” Xichen calls after him in a teasing voice.

He props the baby up on his arm and walks her around the room. “And what should we get up to, little one?” he asks. He receives a gurgle in response.

What Xichen finds is that little A-Xing, more than anything, enjoys simply being spoken to, regardless of the subject matter. He goes through half a volume of poetry and recites hundreds of Lan Clan disciplines (the ones he finds most important, though he would never tell his uncle that he considers some rules more important than others). She is even happy when he threatens to add a new discipline to the wall in her honour (thou shalt not bite bobo).

When she finally falls asleep after a meal of mashed vegetables and rice, Xichen realizes he hasn’t had a single negative thought since Wei Wuxian brought her to him. He rests his eyes, her small, warm body against his chest, the two of them breathing in tandem.

Wangji comes to retrieve his daughter after several hours. The tips of his ears are flushed and there is an angry red mark under his jaw that looks vaguely mouth-shaped.

“Apologies, Xiongzhang,” he says. “Wei Ying should not have disrupted your seclusion. He won’t do it again.”

“Wangji, I—” He looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms. “I really don’t mind. I find it peaceful, having her here.”

Wangji watches him for a moment. “Do you want me to bring her more often?”

Xichen turns the idea over in his head, and finds it pleasing rather than stressful. “If it wouldn’t be any trouble for you. I don’t wish to keep her from you.”

“I have meetings every morning while Wei Ying teaches basic talismans to the novices. Would that be too often?”

Xichen feels a wide smile break across his face at the prospect of a daily visit. For the first time since he returned from Yunping, it doesn’t cause him even the slightest pain.

~0~

Five months go by like this, A-XIng being left by Wangji or Wei Wuxian every morning, a few hours that brighten all of Xichen’s days. She grows in front of his eyes, begins to scoot around the hanshi on her bottom and destroy anything he isn’t quick enough to remove from her ever-widening reach. Xichen holds her hands and helps her practise walking until his back aches from stooping over and he loves every minute of it.

One morning Wei Wuxian says, “She took her first steps without us holding her, right into Lan Zhan’s arms!” And Xichen feels pride, yes, but also disappointment. He wasn’t there to see. He should have been there to cheer her on. “And then,” he continues with a laugh, “she took off running right at Sizhui. We are all in so much trouble now!”

With a wish of good luck, Wei Wuxian leaves A-Xing in Xichen’s care. She is already struggling to get down from his arms.

A-Xing runs the length of the hanshi, back and forth, back and forth. And then she does it all over again. Xichen tires just watching her.

It must be a bit of a bore for her, just Xichen’s rooms instead of the world outside. She would probably much rather run in the forest or pester Wangji’s poor rabbits. Just as Xichen is contemplating taking her to the garden behind the hanshi, A-Xing bumps into the sword rack and falls on her behind.

Her lip pops out and begins to quiver—a sure sign of an impending meltdown. Xichen rushes over. “You’re fine, little one. All fine.”

“Bobo,” she says and then wails, lifting up her chubby little arms towards him.

Xichen scoops her up, staring into her watery eyes. “What did you say, Xingxing?”

A-Xing sniffles at him, her crying stopped, and then shoves her face under his chin to wipe her tears and snot on his neck.

She had said it though, there is no way he misheard. His niece had said his name. And if she had spoken a coherent word before that surely one of her fathers would have told him about it. Xichen turns to tell someone, anyone, that his baby niece just said her first word, but there is no one to tell. He is alone with A-Xing as he has been every day for months, preluded by months of no one but himself. It feels wrong, suddenly. He feels trapped, smothered, impotent. And he wants to bring the news to his brother himself. He wants to tell Wangji and Wei Wuxian. And Sizhui and Shufu and—

He kisses the top of A-Xing’s head and leaves the hanshi for the first time in more than a year.

As he walks through the Cloud Recesses he receives bows and smiles mixed with incredulous looks. He must appear half-crazed, thin and hollow in his plainest robes. He hadn’t even put his hair up properly—it is simply tied half back with a small ribbon, no guan to be seen. He hasn’t worn it out in public in such a way since he was still a child.

No one comments on his hair or his sudden appearance when he bursts into Wangji’s office and hurriedly closes the door on the stares he can feel at his back.

“Xichen?” Wangji stands from behind his desk.

Wei Wuxian is closer. He reaches Xichen first and looks his daughter over as if for an injury.

“She is fine,” Xichen says. “She took a little tumble, but she is unharmed. But she—she spoke.”

Wei Wuxian laughs. “Sometimes her noises sound like words, but nothing real yet.”

“No, she did this time. She said—” Xichen looks down at A-Xing. She has a fist full of his hair and is moments away from shoving it into her mouth. “Who am I, Xingxing?” He points to himself.

She grins and bites on his hair. Xichen tsks at her and pulls the hair from her grasp. Her brow furrows. “Bobo,” she whines, and makes another grab for his hair.

He lets her take it, barely noticing when she tugs too hard. He is too busy watching for Wangji and Wei Wuxian’s reactions.

They do not disappoint.

Wangji rushes over with a delighted smile on his face. Wei Wuxian claps his hands together. “I guess we know who your favourite is, ah, little one?”

Her favourite, Xichen thinks. At the back of his mind a voice that sounds like Shufu says, “do not be prideful.” Today, just today, Xichen decides he is going to ignore that voice. Today, for a moment, he will allow himself. Today as he is surrounded by his family. Today as his little brother smiles at him, full of what looks like relief, and leans a head against his shoulder. Today, as Xichen leans back against him.

“Bobo,” A-Xing says again, and she tries to shove her parents away.

Today he is A-Xing’s favourite.

[builder051]

Whumptober 2020 day 29: emergency room

powers/no powers, Bucky vs depression storyline

TW for suicidal ideation

_____________________

“Tell me if you feel really bad,” Steve tells Bucky as he tucks him into bed around noon on Sunday.  “I mean... you know.  If your mind feels worse.  Than you just want to be up here by yourself.  I’ll take you out to the farm.  I’ll take you to the hospital.”  Steve gives him a pleading look.

Bucky reluctantly nods.  He lies back against the pillows and pulls the quilt up to his chin.  “I just want to go to sleep,” he whispers.  

Steve nods.  “Ok.  I can stay if you want.  Until you drift off.”

Bucky snakes his arm out reaches for the bottle of quick-acting melatonin on the bedside table.  “I’ll be ok.”  He pops the easy open lid, shakes out two, and tosses them back.  They taste terrible, but he resists making a face.  He deserves disgusting pink tablets.  He deserves the throbbing headache.  He deserves the repetitive thoughts that tell him he’d be better off dead.

“You sure?” Steve asks.

Bucky sets the bottle back down and murmurs, “Yeah.”

“Ok.”  Steve gives him a wan smile.  “I’ll be downstairs.  Yell if you need anything.  Or text.”  He nudges Bucky’s phone closer to the bed.  “Or call.  Whatever you want.”

“Sure...”  Bucky closes his eyes, if only to get Steve to stop talking.

“Come check on you in an hour or two?”

“Fine.”  Bucky hopes he’ll be asleep.

“Alright.”  Steve begins to retreat toward the door.  “It’ll be ok, Buck.  This’ll pass.  I promise.”

“Hm.”  Bucky turns slightly so his ear is buried in the pillow.  He knows he ought to believe Steve.  But he also knows that today isn’t the day for his words to be true.

Bucky drops off quickly, though for how long he has no idea.  He wakes feeling warm and groggy, a thin layer of sweat beading up on the back of his neck and his unshaven upper lip.  Light still streams in around the curtained window, so not too much time seems to have passed, but whether he’s been under for twenty minutes or two hours, it seems to have been enough time for him to spike a fever.

Bucky rolls over onto his stomach, pressing his forehead into a cool spot on the pillow and attempting to breathe in deeply through the barrier of the memory foam swaddled in organic cotton.  He smells a hint of laundry soap, though it’s almost completely overtaken by the scent of his own musk.  He’s spent far too much time in bed lately without letting things air out.  

Bucky’s hit with a wave of disgust that quickly turns to self-hatred.  What is he doing with his life?  He quit his job months ago; he’s bringing no income into the house.  Steve can easily keep them afloat, but when he’s constantly using up sick days and vacation to take care of Bucky, his employment is in danger as well.  And that’s Bucky’s fault.

Steve would be better off without him.  Bucky’s had the thought before, and now it returns with a vengeance.  Steve deserves the opportunity to live without the dead weight of Bucky tied to his side.  

But Bucky can’t live without Steve.  He can’t care for himself; he can’t open his pill bottles with just one hand to work with.  He’d miss his appointments because he either wouldn’t remember or wouldn’t care.  Bucky knows Clint and Laura will always be there and willing to help him out, but Steve’s something else entirely.  Steve is his.  But at the same time, he can’t claim ownership of Steve at all.

Bucky looks around for something to use.  Something to take.  But his heavy-duty meds are all locked up downstairs, and their aren’t any razors or scissors or sharp objects of any kind in the bedroom.  If he goes into the bathroom to look for something, Steve will certainly hear him moving around and come to see what’s going on.  

Bucky’s eyes sweep the room and come to rest on the bottle of melatonin on the bedside table.  It won’t kill him, he knows, but it’s worth a shot.  Maybe he can choke himself on disgusting pink spit,  

Bucky pops the lid and pours the tablets directly into his mouth.  He swallows at them, forcing them whole into his throat where they burn and poke as the muscles squeeze and simultaneously attempt to accept and reject the foreign objects.  He coughs, and several pop back up into his mouth with a splash of mucousy spit.  Bucky grimaces and swallows it all down again.

Suddenly there’s a soft knock on the door, and the knob begins to turn.  Bucky still has the melatonin bottle pressed against his lips as he struggles to down what’s in his mouth and stuck in his throat.  His eyes go wide with panic, and he freezes, unable to force his body to change positions.

“Buck?” Steve says softly, opening the door a crack.  He peers inside, then pauses a moment as if he isn’t sure what he’s taking in.  Then, “What the hell...?”

Bucky tries to swallow again.  Most of the tablets have disintegrated by now, and they run down his throat in a gritty mush that turns his stomach with its medicinal sweetness.  “Um...” he starts, his voice quiet and watery.

“What’re you...?  How many of those did you take?”  Steve rushes forward and pries the bottle out of Bucky’s hand.  He peers inside and gives it a little shake.  

Bucky’s heart pounds, for it’s clear that the thing is mostly empty.  He hadn’t factored in the possibility of getting caught.  It’s not that Steve looks angry; in fact, he just looks concerned; but Bucky’s never felt a stronger urge to stop living and disappear from the face of the earth.

“You took a lot, huh?”  Steve looks at him with wide, worried eyes.  “You don’t... You’re not feeling good, are you?”

Bucky stares at him a second, then slowly shakes his head.  He realizes his hand is trembling, and he balls it into a fist in his lap.  Bucky’s breaths come in shaky, and tears threaten to spill from the corners of his eyes.

“We need to go,” Steve says softly.  “Ok?”  He sets the melatonin bottle down and reaches for Bucky’s hand.  “It’s not really an attempt, but, like...”

“No,”  Bucky whispers.  His stomach turns, and he gulps.

“I don’t know if I can keep you safe.  And you’re...” Steve uses his other hand to gently cup Bucky’s cheek.  “You’re not feeling so good, are you?”

Bucky slowly shakes his head.  

“I mean... We can call it poison control.  Say you mixed your meds up.  Whatever you want.  I just don’t think you should be at home right now.”

Bucky just stares blankly at him.  “’M not getting dressed,” he mumbles.  His head hurts, and his body feels heavy and uncooperative.  Nausea plays around his jawline and the top of his throat, threatening to connect with his stomach and turn things even nastier than they already are.

“You don’t have to,” Steve assures him.  “Come on.  Let’s go.”  He sweeps back the covers and offers Bucky his arm.  “Just shoes, that’s all you need.”

Bucky shoves his feet into a pair of Birkenstocks and shuffles downstairs, then follows Steve into the garage.  He lets Steve buckle him into the passenger seat like a child, then tips his head back against the headrest.  He catches sight of himself in the rear view mirror, taking in his pallid countenance and dark, nearly bruised-looking eyes.  His lips look red and wet, and the lightest of pink spots bloom above the stubble on his cheeks.  He looks ill, which Bucky supposes works in his favor.

“Ok, here we go.”  Steve starts the car and backs out of the driveway.  “Short drive.”

It’s only about fifteen minutes to the hospital, but for Bucky it feels like an eternity.  His stomach jumps into his throat at every stoplight, and the vibrating motion of the car increases the ache between his eyes.  

“You ok?” Steve asks around the ten minute mark.

“Hm,” Bucky replies, unable to move his head to nod.  It would be a lie anyway, so perhaps it’s better for him to keep his response neutral.

“You’re going grey.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna pull over--” Steve starts.  Then, “Fuck.”  Steve signals to change lanes, but a red sports car immediately swerves in front of them from the other direction.  Steve slams on the brakes, and Bucky’s seatbelt clamps down tightly across his stomach and chest.

Without warning, warm and overly sweet fluid begins to pour upward from Bucky’s throat, and before he knows it, his lap is drenched in foamy pink.  Momentarily unsure of what’s happened, Bucky inhales and is left choking and sputtering.

“Hang on a sec.”  Steve brakes again and manages to make it to the shoulder.  He stops the car in a stretch of gravel and immediately throws open his door to sprint around to Bucky’s side.

“Here.”  He helps Bucky lean over as his stomach continues to empty itself.  

When he’s finished, Bucky flops back into his seat, eyes closed and mouth open, panting.

“I wish I had water or something,” Steve says apologetically.  “They’ll have something for you in the ER.”

“Hm.”  Bucky gives a tiny nod.  He keeps breathing deeply as Steve roots around in the glove box for a handful of napkins.  

Once he’s satisfactorily cleaned up, they continue on their way.  “I’m so sorry that happened, Buck,” Steve says.  “I’m sure there’ll be some Zofran.  Some kind of anti-emetic.”

“Do I have to tell them what happened?” Bucky asks in a hoarse whisper.

“You mean the puke?  I’m pretty sure that’s self-explanatory.”  Steve nods to the damp bile-smelling patches on Bucky’s pants.

“Everything else?”   Bucky squeezes his eyes shut again as Steve turns to park the car in the hospital lot.

“That’s up to you,” Steve sighs.  “I don’t want you to lie, but I also don’t want you to have to do anything you don’t want to do.  It’s your choice.  Not mine.”

“Mm.”  Bucky taps his teeth together.  He’s exhausted, perhaps from the melatonin, or perhaps from the events of the day.  “Can I... go to sleep?  Just escape for a while?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says honestly.  “You can tell them you’re tired and want to rest.  I think you’re pretty sick.”  He brushes away stray hairs that Bucky hasn’t even realized are stuck to his clammy forehead.  

“And you’ll, uh, be there?” Bucky asks, a wave of anxiety suddenly washing over him.  “When I wake up?”

“Sure will,” Steve replies.  “I always will, you know.”

“I, uh...”  Bucky stutters.  He swallows hard, unsure if he’s pushing down vomit or emotion.  “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Steve says reaching to take his hand.  “Of course.”

[thetranquilteal]

The Gift [AO3] by @thetranquilteal​

Jamie has spent almost every night of his deployment yearning to be with his wife and newborn child. When he is given the opportunity to be home for Brianna's first Christmas, however, he unexpectedly finds himself torn between the past, present and future. 

A modern day short story inspired by @thelallybrochlibrary Holiday Prompt: "Soldier Jamie returns from his deployment in time for Brianna’s first Christmas” submitted by @becc127.

Part I: Home For Christmas

Jamie looked down at the photograph resting in the palm of his hand. 

There sat his beautiful wife, their brand new wean resting in her arms. The stark contrast between Claire’s dark and unruly curls lightly brushing their daughter’s red tuft was only highlighted by Claire’s dark blouse and the cream coloured crochet blanket she had wrapped Brianna in. 

He chuckled to himself and raised his eyes as if to follow the sound carrying away with the wind into the mountains lit only by moonlight shining through sparse clouds.

He could still remember the moment Claire had announced her name over the phone.

“Brianna,” the mouthed to himself and smiled again. He had made a fuss at the time but it had been token, half-hearted at most, as he hadn't truly minded. How could he? After what had happened with Faith -

He shook his head quickly in an attempt to dispel the thought.

He loved Faith. A Dhia, he loved her. So much so that it hurt to think of her - their first, a daughter born too early, too silent and too still - let alone speak of her out loud and, truthfully, he could only deal with so much heartache on a dark night like this, where stars were dulled by lingering clouds and death curled around them like unwelcome hot breath. 

His hold on the photograph tightened as his throat constricted and heart thumped in his chest. 

It had been a standard patrol. Standard. There was a scoff bubbling up from within but he hadn’t enough energy to dispel it, instead opting to let it simmer in the barely controlled but well-concealed anger that had been plaguing him for hours. It was supposed to be standard, damn it! Instead, they had stumbled across an IED. 

Unmarked. Unexpected. Deadly.

Now, instead of continuing their assignment as planned, they would be departing at first light to escort Angus' body home. 

Christ, how he wished he could speak to Claire. Touch her. Feel her. Wrap his arms around and just hold her. 

During her time as a Combat Medical Technician, she had been on two tours of her own and had seen such violent harm up close and intimately more times than he would wish upon any soul. Unlike any other Tech here in this God-forsaken desert, however, she had the ability to heal a lot more than just physical wounds. She had hands that wove stories across the skin, lips that formed words to heal the soul, and a heart more loving than anyone - including he - could ever deserve.

From the very first, when she had come and laid a hand on him to reset a dislocated shoulder, he had known - she was everything. 

Everything he knew he wanted.

Everything he hadn’t known he needed. 

Leaving her, just weeks pregnant with their second bairn, to go on this tour had been one of the hardest things he had ever done and news of a happy and healthy daughter had provided incredible relief. For a moment in time, he was devoid of the burden that had been tying him down ever since he had step foot on the aircraft and the weightlessness had left him giddy with the feeling he could do anything - achieve anything.

But all too soon that feeling had been replaced with something new. A yearning, almost.

A calling. 

On nights he managed more than an hour or two of solid sleep, he would dream of Brianna. Shifting within her swaddle, asleep in her crib. Small fingers wrapped tight around one of Claire's. Crying out blindly in hunger only to be soothed by her mother’s scent shifting closer. 

The following day the images would linger, there in the background of his mind, as they cleaned their rifles and organised equipment, long after shifts changed and there were no words to fill the silence that fell down upon them, and every time they paused to take refuge from the hot sun beating down upon them. 

Despite their continued occurrence, he resisted speaking of them out loud, too afraid that the sound might interrupt the ethereal connection that existed between the two of them. That he might be left even more alone than he already was. 

The mere thought made him grit his teeth. 

In his youth loneliness hadn’t bothered him - if anything he had welcomed it. First, it was the solitude that came with working in the Highland fields as a teenager and, then, the freedom that came with being an entry-level soldier travelling between various stations and training grounds, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots or form any serious relationships outside of work.

Then he had met Claire. 

While, from that point onward, he had spent his days afield eagerly awaiting their next reunion, their intimate relationship had had very little impact on life in the Armed Forces. It was one that the two of them were used to and one that continued on even after they had wed. When Claire, pregnant and suffering from terrible morning sickness, was released from active duty, however, things changed. It was then he had come to truly understand what it meant to be ‘away’. Away from his wife. His family. His home. And now, another daughter. 

One that would be there when he returned. 

The thought gave him hope - a small flicker somewhere deep down beneath the bone-weary exhaustion and budding sense of desperation.

The sound of worn boots upon dusty gravel grew nearer and he turned slightly, more so due to a long instilled need to keep anything and everything within his line of vision than simple curiosity. 

He shifted again as Murtagh sat down next to him and waited. 

It wasn’t uncommon for the two to sit side by side in comfortable silence from time to time but he knew the man, both godfather and superior, had sought him out with purpose. 

"Received confirmation from Stuart - schedule remains unchanged,” Murtagh stated casually. “Dougal's putting together the last of the equipment. Thought it would be best to leave Rupert be fer now."

Jamie nodded his approval. While Rupert had not been severely injured by the blast, he remained in the medic station for a long while before making his way to Angus' cot to start packing his best friend's belongings and it had been second nature for the team to unofficially take the man off rotation, wordlessly absorbing any and all remaining jobs between them. 

"I should double-check the paperwork's been lodged," Jamie replied though he made no move to stand and Murtagh did the same, having obviously decided it was his own turn to wait. Minutes went by unchecked until he finally said aloud, “I always thought this job couldnae get any harder,” the words spontaneous and providing little to no detail for their use. 

Still, his Godfather understood.

“Tomorrow may be harder than most, aye," Murtagh brushed a hand over his bearded chin and then waved it towards Jamie’s own, "but at the end of it, you’ll be home. In time fer the bairn’s first Christmas, no less.”

"Christmas," Jamie echoed, mostly to himself, nodding his head slowly before looking back down at the photograph. “I'll be home for Christmas.”

When Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder and stood, he dipped his head in acknowledgement but continued looking a moment longer, before tucking it back into his chest pocket and rising himself. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck - a long practised method used to replace the battered armour he had worn for far, far too long but destined to wear a little while longer yet. 

He would be home for Christmas but until that day came, he reminded himself, he had a job to do. And a promise to keep.

A/N: For a lot of people, Christmas is not a time of joy but of sadness, anxiety and distress. There can be an overwhelming sense of pressure to be happy and this underlying notion that expressing anything different is not only inappropriate but harmful to those around us. It leaves many - like Jamie in this AU and myself in real life - conflicted, confused and, at times, hopeless and lost. This story is dedicated not only to all service-men, -women and their families but to all of those who struggle during the holiday season. Please know that I am thinking of you and hope that you, like Jamie towards the end of this story, are blessed with a sense of inner peace and many restful nights. A x

[bellsybuilds]

We’re back and making an attempt to return to the rhythm of cross-posting!

We do not negotiate with toddlers (G) Din Djarin & Yodito (slice of life, domesticity, bath time, bed time)

Din demarcates his life in phases. Life before the siege on his town. Before he came of age in the Covert. Before the child entered his life and now he has to coax it to evacuate its bowels in a timely manner every night; he hardly recognises his life anymore.

Life for Din Djarin before the child hadn’t seemed idle: his days were ordered and methodical.

Rise from his light doze at the helm of the  Crest  and check the logs for anything noteworthy while he slept. Wash up. Eat quickly. Get back to the helm and close the distance to his next quarry as soon as possible.

Din did not like sleeping in space if he could help it. Although he spent so much of his life now among the stars, to be a lone Mandalorian without walls or atmosphere to signal the approach of enemies always kept him on edge. He did not enjoy relying on technology alone. Radars could malfunction.

But he wasn’t alone anymore.

Though, he did not consider the child as back-up. If anything, the foundling was just one more concern in addition to low fuel, low rations, outstanding repairs and -- oh, the target the Empire painted on their backs.

“That’s not for you.”

The child blinks, startled when Din shuts the armoury doors in his small face, pouting at the wheezing lock. Din hears the lock fail to engage. The doors creak open as though in apology. Scowling, Din shoves it out of spite.

Add a broken lock to his list.

Ah well. That's a problem for future him. He sighs, mentally setting it aside.

“Come here,” Din gestures for the little one to follow and starts up the faucet in the sink.

Ears perking up, the child recognises the motions for bath time and totters at his heels. 

“You need to stay out of the weapons locker,” he explains, shedding his gloves to test the water’s temperature. “I know you’re powerful, but I don’t want to test if your healing powers work on you, too. Or to find a hole blasted in our hull.”

The child trills happily, small claws tugging at his calf.

He knows the child can understand him sometimes. If only it was clear when his intention was lost or the child was willfully ignoring him.

From the corner of his eye, Din catches sight of the vacc tube beside the sink. Huh. He pulls back to consider the small face beaming up at him, wrapped around his leg.

“You used the tube yet?”

The child looks at it with a questioning sound. 

Five minutes later, Din is crouched before the vacc tube, holding the small child above it, that long robe (sack?) bunched high around his chest to avoid any mess. He needs to buy the kid more clothes. It’s not good for one so small to be running around half-naked in space while his sole piece of clothing dries.

Din had felt a little guilty after the first time he washed the kid’s robe and it emerged a few shades lighter. He had been wandering with Din for several days by that point.

He needs to buy the kid some new clothes. In the meantime, he has other tactics for stretching their modest resources.

The kid swings its large feet back and forth and giggles, holding onto his hands.

“C’mon, kid. Do your thing. We don’t have all night.”

His back is starting to ache holding this position. But it’s kind of necessary. Without Din, the little one would fall straight in. Maybe even get stuck in the tube. The mental image of a sad and bewildered child stuck halfway in a toilet makes him snort under his breath. Guilt chases the thought. That would be terrible. Definitely terrible.

The kid burbles with bright laughter, and catches one of its feet, pulling it to its mouth.

“No,” Din tugs that foot free. “Dirty.”

An unhappy squint is his answer. Or is that the kid's judging face?

He looks around at the sound of rushing water, just in time to see the sink overflow.

“Damn it!”

The kid squeals in his hold when he lunges to turn the faucet off. Panting, his heart racing, he glowers at the pool of water now at his feet. Water, even recycled water, is a precious resource out here (it's all recycled on the  Crest). He thought he’d turned that off!

“Aaaaaooo,” the kid wriggles helpfully, patting his wrist as though in reassurance. 

Din sighs heavily and meets the kid’s big, smiling eyes. And then sees the trail the kid has pooped from the tube to Din’s boot and--

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, checking his leg for further splatter.

The kid kicks a foot out to the overfull sink. “Ahhhhm.”

“Now you’re ready.” Din shakes his head in disbelief and gladly deposits that child in the makeshift tub before it sprays any more of its dinner on the deck.

He squirts a dollop of cleaning solution into the water and the child splashes happily up to its waist, ignorant of his guardian's weary determination, stepping back to assess the damage. 

Din didn’t realise how quiet his life used to be until his days were overrun by keeping hunters off their backs, cleaning up the digestive wreckage of his foundling while trying to keep it from accidentally killing itself or driving Din to destroy their home from distraction.

It’s okay. This is just another mission.

Grabbing a cleaning rag from beneath the sink, he shakes his head at the little one’s delighted laughter and kneels down to get to work.

///

An hour later, the kid is clean, dry and wrapped in one of Din's spare undershirts. Already falling asleep, Din swaddles the little one in its sleeping blanket, tight and firm.

He didn’t think he needed so many  things until he had to share with a child. And the child couldn’t help but be a child -- spilling, soiling or simply losing their belongings. He tried to give the child shoes once. They had just been overlarge socks with thickened soles, but by the end of that first day when he pulled up the child's robes, the child had blinked back at him and wriggled innocently when he appealed, incredulous, "Where are your shoes?"

The child's head nods to the blanket at their chin, heavier with each soft, rasping breath.

Frowning, Din adjusts the wrapping. Is this blanket thick enough? It might be worth the credits to invest in a spare. Is it too tight? Not tight enough? Should Din tuck his ears in?

He tugs it loose around the kid’s shoulders, just in case.

Large, dark eyes open at the motion and the little one pouts at him with a soft, hopeful sound. 

Din scowls at the tug in his chest. He really wishes he could pretend he doesn’t understand. He tries anyway, but the moment he starts easing the kid down to the sleeping rack, it mewls unhappily and starts squirming within the blanket.

No, that’s not good. Go to sleep, kid.

“Shh, shh. Hey,” he hushes, patting the kid’s chest to discourage its attempt to worm its arms free. If the kid gets his hands up to reach for him with those big eyes, it’s all over. “It’s okay. It’s time for sleep.”

“Mmmm.” A whimper, that small pout deepens and dark eyes shine with the threat of tears.

…

Damn it.

Din leans down and raises a finger in warning, other hand braced behind the precious bundle in his arms. “Listen. This time. Okay. But next time, you sleep here. Understand?”

The kid just yawns and tries to catch his finger in his mouth.

Ten minutes later, the little one snores against his cuirass, tucked firmly into his elbow as he adjusts their course. Glancing down, he cleans the small line of drool and gently pokes him in the cheek. The child sleeps on and Din squeezes him gently, unable to help himself.

Sliding off his helmet, he presses lips to the little one's wrinkled forehead. He lingers and his eyes slide shut, breathing him in.

The child smells of soap and steel of the sink, of its warm woollen blanket, and Din is glad more than anything that his senses recognise the baby's own scent as healthy, running warmer as it settles and heals from the day's rhythms.

A twitch of sleep, the baby murmurs sweet and nonsensical. Heart warmed, Din smiles, settling back in his seat.

It’s surprising how much work he can still accomplish with only one hand.

[barnesthesarge]

Gentle

Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on your relationship//proposal fic

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past, fluff!!

Bucky remembers it all clearly, the pain inflicted both on him and by him. It’s like the memories are glued to the back of his eyelids, that’s why he feels like he doesn’t deserve this. You. You wrapped up in his arm smoothing patterns on his thigh. He doesn’t deserve the gentle squeeze you give every once in a while.

He thinks back to the first time you met, how he was with Sam walking his mom’s dog, and how you were busy giving your dog treats while he played fetch. Sam had left his mom’s dog play with yours, and you began talking with them.

Instantly Bucky has registered you as a softy, the words you spoke served the purpose to comfort. He was swaddled in every sentence even now, hearing you speak was a heaven he didn’t think he’d find.

The tender way you said his name, when you’d roll over every morning with a sleepy grin and kiss his nose, calling him beautiful. Everything you’d say, it would make his knees weak. Especially when you said his three favorite words.

Bucky knows that he comes home in several pieces sometimes, that sometimes he carries more than the weight of the world on his shoulders. Every time you’re there in seconds, rubbing away his insecurities and anxieties. The way you know his favorite bath temperature, the way you climb right in and make him feel clean. You always know just how to make him whole again.

You smell of something perfect, he can’t exactly tell what it is, maybe flowers, maybe a mixture of that and fruit. It’s his favorite smell and sometimes he wishes it came as a candle scent, or that you always wore his clothes before he did so they would smell like you. Your smell lingers everywhere in the apartment, he loves laying in bed, sometimes you catch him rolling over to snuggle your pillow.

Bucky didn’t remember dancing that much when he came back, it didn’t matter that he had spent so long doing it in the 40’s. He remembers you pulling up an old song he danced to and how you giggled at him and asked him to dance with you. He recalled how sloppy he was, he stepped on your toes, he bumped into the counter, he kept you too far away. Now it was flawless, the two of you together. Bucky could lead you anywhere in the house with ease, you’d lean into his chest and tell him that his heartbeat matched the rhythm of the song.

Bucky’s never told you, but he secretly loves being the big spoon more. To him there’s nothing more perfect than having his hand on your hipbone rubbing smooth circles, or how you and him fit together flawlessly. He loves that you hold his hand against your chest, and that in your sleep you always move to remain against him throughout the night. He loves how you’ll purposely shave your legs and wear shorts to entangle your legs together because he loves the smoothness.

Bucky enjoys walking your dog Alpine every morning, how you keep treats in your pocket because you love the big dog so much. He loves watching you play fetch with him, because Alpine loves you just as much as Bucky does, (maybe not as much according to Bucky). Bucky takes pictures of you cuddling Alpine on the couch when he comes home late.

One of Bucky’s favorite things about you is that you make his lunch sometimes before he goes to meetings or briefings. It’s not the lunch itself, but how you always leave sweet notes for him behind. You don’t know he has them all taped down in a notebook at the compound.

You tap his thigh three times and Bucky looks down at you, you have the movie paused and you give him a dazzling smile.

“Hey handsome, what’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” You sit up taller to press a lazy kiss to his jaw.

“You.” He answers simply, his heart swells when your smile grows in size.

“Good things I hope?” Your hand stops and moves to cradle his jaw.

“The best things, I love you more than anything darling.” Bucky closes the distance between you and kisses your sweet sweet lips. Those lips drive him mad, he’s seen you bite them and lick them and those same lips tell him all the sweet things he needs to hear. The same lips that feel so good on his own.

You break apart, “I love you more than anything.” You say, Bucky is beaming now.

You turn back to the TV and unpause the movie. Your hand goes right back to his thigh and presumes the gentle patterns. Bucky covers your hand with his own, his metal arm thrown over your shoulders.

Bucky knows that you respect his comfort zones, and he appreciates it more than anything. When he doesn’t feel right after spending ten minutes at one of Stark’s parties, you both go up to his room to dance in your fancy clothes, and then you both go back to your apartment to sleep. You don’t force him places he won’t go, instead you take longer routes to avoid people, and shop at dingy supermarkets if he can’t be in the one down the street. You’ve never purposely hurt his feelings, and you’ve never put him on the spot. You’ve never once made him tell you anything about himself.

Bucky wants to focus on the movie you put on, but he can’t, and you’ve noticed. You pause the movie and look at him, “Is it boring?” You ask nervously.

“No doll, I’m just thinking still s’all.” You bite your cheek to hide a grin.

“About me still?” You giggle at him heavenly, “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” Bucky becomes more nervous than he’s ever been around you.

“Y/N..” He starts very serious, and your face breaks terrified, “No no it’s not bad, at least I don’t think it is—“ he gulps, “I-I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, hit me Sarge.” The nickname sends chills down his flesh arm and a warm feeling in his stomach.

“Y/N..we’ve been together for two years.” He states and the corners of your lips upturn.

“The best two years of my life.” You kiss his nose softly and Bucky exhales.

“Marry me.” He blurts and your eyes widen, your jaw drops, “Er..will you marry me?” Your eyes look watery, “I can’t stop thinking about how I need this for the rest of my life, with you, only with you.”

Tears roll down your face, Bucky knows that he should’ve shown you the ring, or maybe done this in a better place like he planned, or maybe prepared an actual speech.

“Yes! God yes! Yes yes yes!” You cry out, your arms latch around his neck, and your in his lap, and Bucky’s face in shoved into the crook of your neck, he’s starting to cry.

Bucky picks you up with your legs wrapped around his waist into the bedroom and sets you down on your bed. He goes into his socks drawer and finds the ring box he should’ve had out already. When he presents it to you, you’re still crying with such a joyful look on your face he could die right there. He slips it on your ring finger while you look at him in that way again, like he’s a miracle.

He knows you’ll look at him like that forever.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

A/N: I hope you guys liked this! I loved getting to write it! If you want to support me and my writing I have a Ko-fi in my bio!

[chrysolina]

Our chance

Ask - @glitterquadricorn Can I request something? I want one with chris evans and a baby. Maybe his wife telling him that they're finally pregnant after a couple of years of trying. Him with babies makes my heart flutter!

Gurll you and me both!! Here it is, I hope you like it 💕💗

Summary - after years of being unsuccessful in stating a family, maybe your chance to have one was over..or is it?

Pairing - Chris Evans x reader

Warnings - brief SMUT (18+), crying, floof

M A S T E R L I S T

The quiet lull of the passing cars echoed around the silent, sleepy private estate in Sudbury, every house in the exclusive estate dead silent with the promise of sleep for every individual - all but one house.

The grandest house in the estate - the Evans house - wasn’t lit up with the signs of life but within the house, nobody was sleeping. The sounds of grunts, heavy moaning and skin slapping against skin reverberated around the house, as muffled at it may be, it was still loud enough to hear.

The two of you had lost all sense of discreetness and mindfulness for poor Dodger after round two and were still going at it like animals. On what could’ve easily been round five or six even, you felt that tight bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach unravel for the sixth time tonight and begged Chris with his release by slamming your ass into his thrusts and tightening your pussy around his incredible length.

To your pleasure, Chris thrust his hips into yours a final few times and gave you his release at the same time as yours, stuffing your already overfilled pussy with his cum again, begging it worked this time.

The two of you were indeed very eager to start a family of your own after seeing so many of your friends and family with their own bundles of joy. Both yours and Chris’ parents didn’t help either wondering if you were considering giving them more grandchildren and were always keen to praise yours and Chris’ natural parental ways whenever the time came up.

After a long talk on your honeymoon, you and Chris decided that after a year of work and finishing filming projects off, you’d start trying to conceive.

That was three years ago and you still had not one positive pregnancy test to this day.

You spoke about everything with your trusted GP, who only reassured you these things are temperamental and take time. She even checked your insides to see if everything was in order - and it was.

After another year of intermittent trying and no luck, you went to her that same morning, asking for anything you could take or do to help the process along. She understood your feelings of disappointment on a personal level and prescribed you a small packet of fertility pills that’d help boost your fertility - only for a maximum of seven to eight days.

As soon as you got out of the clinic and back in your car, you rang and told your husband about the pills - asking for his opinion on whether you should have them - he agreed profusely and suggested you take one straight away.

He didn’t warn you, however, of how well he‘d test the pill once he got home.

The pasta bake you made that night wasn’t touched; Chris didn’t bother eating that night instead he kissed you passionately, hauled you over his shoulder and ran upstairs to bedroom, a raging boner painfully straining his boxers. And that’s where you spent the rest of the night.

To take extra precautions, before allowing you to cuddle to sleep Chris ran to the drawer, pulled out his favourite butt-plug and shoved it snug in your pussy to almost guarantee conception. Believing he did a good job, he cleaned you up and joined you under the covers holding you close as the two do you fell into a warm slumber.

You woke the next morning with an incredibly well sculpted chest littered with little dark hairs in your face. Instead of the usual morning kiss, you chose to trace patterns all over Chris’ chest with your fingers, ghosting maticulously over certain areas like Chris’ tattoos.

A rough grunt resonated around your bedroom and quickly found your face smooshed into Chris’ chest, his large hands snaking around your shorter frame welcomely.

“G’morning handsome,” you sighed dreamily at your snoozing husband and popped you head up to look at the sleeping beauty himself. ‘Too dreamy to be real’ you thought to yourself. Chris only hummed in return and placed his hand suspiciously over your lower stomach, as if he was...cradling it.

“Chris, what are you doing?” You sighed with deep suspicion laced in your morning voice.

“M’nothin..just saying good morning to my two favourite people..” your breath caught in your throat and his touch on your stomach suddenly felt more sensitive and warm at the hint of conception, but you laughted it off as shock.

“Ha, ha..very funny Chris” you rolled your eyes at him, not knowing he was watching from one slightly open eye, smirking incredibly smugly at your faithless response. You may not had believed him but Chris was, if not 100% certain something had happened last night. He could just feel it.

The rest of that week consisted of relaxing, catching up with old friends and walking dodger around the local parks and trails. Since you rarely got to have this amount time off as an actress, you relished in the change of pace even if it was without Chris.

It wasn’t until one night after having a takeout curry you quickly began to feel unwell. Your stomach felt like it had been punched from the inside out several times and your curry and naan bread were gonna make a reappearance pretty promptly.

You bolted to the downstairs toilet and threw up the contents of your stomach quicker than you could comprehend, leaving a very confused Dodger alone on the couch.

The trips to the toilet became more and more frequent as the days went on and you couldn’t stand it much longer. Chris had been in Atlanta for a week doing final touches to a film out there and you were all alone heaving your stomach up.

You couldn’t bring your teary self to call Chris, you knew that he’d bolt straight home to be with his wife, you also knew how important his job was and instead of being the incredibly inconvenient wife of major actors you stayed calm and quiet. For his and your own sake.

The sickness lasted for another three days, to your great discomfort. To your shock, you also found that your favourite lace bra’s were becoming more snug and sensitive as the days went on, not to mention the bouts of fevers you’d been experiencing.

There was only one explanation left in your mind as you drove to the nearest 7/11 early one morning and picked up three different pregnancy tests, all varying in prices and specific jobs. You discreetly paid for the items and drove back to your loved home, quickly greeting dodger and hurried to open up all three, reading through each instruction manual carefully.

You were halfway through reading the sticks when you heard your phone go off, someone had text you. To your surprise, Chris had text telling you he’d be back by this evening and that he couldn’t wait to see you. ‘What a man’ you smiled to yourself and bolted back to the bathroom to pee on those sacred sticks.

What could’ve been the longest four minutes of your life, the timer on your phone went off and you ran to the bathroom to see what the sticks read, Dodger eagerly dashing behind you too. Closing your eyes, you grabbed the sticks messily and peaked at them with one eye open, the other eye flying open in shock.

‘Positive’

‘Positive’

‘2 weeks pregnant.’

Fuck, it was finally happening. You were pregnant.

The barrelling shock that you had a life, a baby inside of you knocked the wind out of you causing you to sit on the toilet seat shaking on shock. This was it, you were finally going to be a parent and Chris would be.. “CHRIS!” You yelped out and rose to your feet, stumbling through the bathroom back to the living room.

‘What do I tell him? How do I tell him? What time is he coming home?’ You were quick to text a response back to Chris, wishing him a good flight and asking what time he’d be home - to which he replied ‘5pm sharp, can’t wait to see you babygirl (; x’. You giggled knowingly at his tone and set about thinking of how you’ll break the news.

Ideas evaded your mind for a solid hour at least. You paced the whole length of the house twice and even took to sitting out in your backyard pool, your feet absentmindedly sifting through the cool turquoise waters for longer than you imagined. You were running out of options until an idea struck your mind - the perfect lightbulb moment.

You locked Dodger up in the house and dashed off to the nearest Toys-R-Us incognito-style and bought a white-cream baby-grow with the words ‘my daddy is the best in the world’ - it was cheesy, yes; but it got the message through. You paid for it and left quietly, returning home to wrap up the gift and make a nice homecoming meal for your beloved husband.

As by his word, Chris’ voice echoed from the front door at exactly five o’clock and you hurried down the stairs with his gift swaddled up in a beautiful white box and bow clutched tight to your chest, the slight rattling from inside made you squirm uncomfortably.

“God I missed you Y/N,” he sighed lovingly and yanked you into his arms, the gift placed gently on the hillside by yourself as you got embraced by Chris.

Before you could welcome him back, his lips found yours in a smouldering and sobering kiss and quickly brought you back to reality. “Mm honey, I got you a present..you might..” he chased your lips and met them again in a smiled kiss. “You might want to sit down to open,” you pulled yourself out of his grip and picked up the present, holding it out to Chris giddily.

“What is it, baby?” He looked you suspiciously, dropped his suitcase handle and bags and took the box off you. Tentatively he unwrapped the ribbon and opened the box up, only to find a pile of tissue in his face.

“Just open it Chris,” you whined with a grin and continued to watch him get to the bottom of the box and pull out he baby-grow. “What’s this?” He placed the box down with a rattle and unfolded the baby-grow. “my daddy is the best in the...world...” Chris stopped and looked to you with tears welling in his eyes. “You’re not..?”

You nodded to the box with as much of a tight-lip you could muster. He dug under another pile of tissue and tears began to roll down his face once he reached the bottom of the box. There they were, three positive pregnancy tests staring right at him.

A strangled cry of your name passed his lips and in an instant Chris was hugging you with all his might, sobbing softly into your hair.

The similar happy tears you’d concealed had finally come to pass and you found yourself crying into his soft t-shirt, your hands clinging on for dear life.

“You’re really..we-we’re gonna..” you beamed into his shirt.

“Yes Chris, we’re gonna be parents.” You squealed as he lifted you into his arms, your lefts immediately locking around his tiny waist. Hot wet lips immediately found your own in a searing exchange, an unknown promise tangled up in the kiss. “Thank you Y/N/N..” Chris sighed into your neck and sucked on the crook of your neck tenderly.

“No Chris.. thank you, for everything.”

[thestudyof5sos]

Smudges of Love (dad!ashton)

Summary: Luke thinks Ashton and his daughter are lonely, so he does something about it. Author: 🐾 @larryologymajor Fandon/Pairing: 5SOS / singledad!Ashton with toddler!Iriwin and a side of bff!Luke Warnings/Tags: fluff, toddler Irwin, and kitties Word count: 2.9k

Smudges of Love

Ashton glanced at his watch as he strolled through the front door of his house. He was late. His afternoon coffee meeting ran much longer than he anticipated. “Emily?” he called out to his babysitter.

“We’re in the bathroom, Mr. Irwin. It’s bath time for Miss Aubrey,” Ashton heard Emily call from upstairs.

Emily was a college student who lived in Ashton’s neighborhood. When he and his daughter Aubrey moved from their third floor flat to a newly purchased single-family house ten months ago, he was unsure how he would handle last minute childcare situations. Finding Emily was an utter fluke. Almost weekly Ashton said a thank you prayer to the magical wind that haphazardly dropped her babysitting flier into his yard one windy afternoon. Emily was an absolute godsend, and Ashton practically considered her family. Ashton never thought he’d be a single parent at 35, but here he was. He was thankful for Emily and the support of his three best friends.

Ashton tossed his briefcase on the bench in the foyer and unzipped his leather boots, kicking them under the bench. He passed through the living room and climbed the stairs two at a time. He headed towards the bathroom and stuck his head through the doorway. His face lit up like the sun when he saw his barely-three year old daughter splashing in the bathtub. “Hi sweet pea, daddy’s home!” Ashton greeted his daughter.

To Emily, Ashton added, “Hey, Em. I’m going to change into something comfy super quick.”

Emily nodded. “Hey, welcome home.”

As Ashton walked away, his daughter called after him, “Daddee, meeeowwwwww meeeooowwwww.”

Ashton popped his head back into the bathroom and looked quizzically at Emily.

She shrugged. “I have no idea where that came from. She’s been meowing since we came back from the park this afternoon.”

“Maybe she saw a kitty on your walk?” Ashton called over his shoulder as he quietly closed his bedroom door. Aubrey was a quiet child. She would say words when she really wanted to or had something to say, but she mostly kept to herself. He was excited for the day they could hold conversations with her. For now, their home was quiet.

“How did it go today?” Ashton questioned Emily when he returned to the bathroom, smiling and grabbing Aubrey’s pink hooded kitty towel from a towel bar.

Emily grinned. She loved babysitting Aubrey, in fact she was Emily’s easiest client to care for and she was always happy to be called in last minute to babysit her. “Aubrey was a good girl today. After lunch we read a book and napped. Then we played in the park until 4:30, came home, washed up, ate the leftover chicken and risotto for dinner, and now here we are. She’s all clean and this is her ten minutes of playtime. Umm, the only thing I didn’t do was take care of our dinner dishes.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I’ve got it from here. And no worries about the dishes. I’ll Venmo you once I get her to bed later.”

“Thank you, Mr. Irwin.” Emily got up from her seat next to the tub and shuffled past Ashton out the bathroom. She paused before descending the stairs. “Let me know if anything comes up tomorrow. The Brown’s don’t need me at all this week.”

Ashton smiled at her and chuckled. “Will do.” Tomorrow was Aubrey’s birthday and their only plan was dinner with his three best friends.

Emily closed the front door behind her and left smiling.

Ashton stopped down to pull the plug on the bathtub drain. “Are you ready to get out?” He questioned the toddler, know she didn’t really comprehend his question. He reached down to scoop her up and she immediate lifted her arms so he could wrap her up in the kitty towel.

“Daddee uppie uppie,” she commanded. Ashton swaddled her in the towel and lifted her to his chest, nuzzling her wet curls with his nose. Aubrey was a spitting image of him down to the unruly curls and gleaming hazel eyes. Her curls were more unruly than his, he thought; combing them was the most difficult part of their bathing routine. He quickly spritzed a detangler in her hair with one hand while he held her up with the other arm. He brushed her hair and let her attempt to brush her teeth.

As Ashton dressed Aubrey for bed, she meowed again. “Girlfriend, what is with all the meowing tonight?” he laughed and blew a raspberry on her tummy. Aubrey giggled hysterically and Ashton was thinking that he should tell his best friends, Luke, Calum, and Michael about the meows.

Ashton tucked Aubrey into bed newly acquired big girl bed. He laid gingerly on the edge and snuggled up with his baby. She loved lullabies and stories at bedtime, so Ashton reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the princess fairy tales book they’ve been working their way through.

Ashton spent about 15 minutes reading before Aubrey yawned and he watched her eyes flutter shut. “Wub you daddee,” her tiny voice whispered. She was on the verge of falling into deep sleep so he kept reading. Several pages later, he abruptly stopped. Ashton swore he heard a small meow. He closed his eyes and opened them really wide, hoping to fend off his own sleepiness and hallucinations of meows.

Moments later, Ashton feathered a kiss to Aubrey’s forehead then got up and made his way downstairs. He silently ate his own leftover dinner and cleared the dishes.

He climbed the stairs avoiding the creaky step near the top. As Ashton tiptoed down the hallway to his room, he thought he heard a light thump followed by another tiny meow. “I am clearly losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Ashton brushed his teeth, combed his hair back into a loose topknot, and washed his face in preparation for bed. He turned on the small bedside table in his room then turned off the overhead light. His bare feet padded quietly down the hall to Aubrey’s room where he would check on her once more before climbing into his own bed.

Ashton entered Aubrey’s room and froze. Illuminated only by her nightlight, Ashton could see a tiny body on her pillow that wasn’t there when he tucked her in. He blinked and the body moved slightly. He blinked a second time, hoping he was seeing things, but caught a glimpse of light reflecting off a pair of eyes. His limbs were frozen in fear and he could feel his heart thudding out of his chest.

Meeeooowwwwww.

Ashton quickly flipped on the overhead light. Cuddled up next to Aubrey was the tiniest kitten Ashton had ever seen. In the bright light, she (or maybe he?) blinked her eyes at Ashton twice then closed them and lowered her head back down to cuddle up with Aubrey.

What the fuck, Ashton thought out loud, mystified how this tiny kitten got into the house.

He padded lightly over to her bed and scratched the kitten on its head. The kitten mewed and butted her head against Ashton’s hand, then licked his thumb. Aubrey stirred lightly and Ashton was afraid she was waking up so he quietly backed up.

Aubrey’s little hand and chubby fingers found the body of the kitten and snuggled it closer to her face. Still fast asleep, she murmured, “My kitty. Wub you kitty.”

Ashton’s heart melted. He quietly snuck back into his bedroom and grabbed his phone.

He quickly typed out a text to the group chat he shared with his best friends:

Guys, I think we’ve adopted a kitten here. I’ll explain tomorrow but can someone swing by the store to pickup an online order for me and bring it over?

Within minutes, Ashton had placed an online order for canned kitten food, kitten kibble, litter box and scoop, cat litter, food and water bowls and plates, collar with a jingle bell, brush, kitty shampoo, a fluffy beige-colored bed, and a few cat toys. Jeeze, he thought, this is like having another kid. He really had no idea what a kitten needed but he figured that would do for now. The rest he could figure out tomorrow.

Seconds later his phone dinged. He snatched it up and found a text from Luke:

Ha, that’s gonna be an interesting story. I’m on it. When and where?

Ashton tapped out the details and made himself a cup of tea while he waited for Luke. He sat at the table warming his hands around the mug and inhaling the lavender scent. It was early autumn and the sun was dipping into the horizon, throwing beautiful streaks of pink and orange across the sky. Although it was only 7, he was exhausted. He started appreciatively out the window at the paint-like sky for a few minutes then put his head down on his arms folded across the table and closed his eyes to rest for a few minutes.

Luke let himself in the back door and set the three bags down in the kitchen. Ashton was slumped over in his chair fast asleep. Luke gently shook his should to wake him. “Hey dad, I’m here with your kitty supplies.”

Ashton raised his head and looked at Luke sleepily. “Ugh, thanks. When I got home, Emily-“

Luke cut him off, “the super hot babysitter?”

Ashton rolled his eyes and fake punched Luke in the shoulder. Luke totally had a thing for Emily, and although he teased Ashton about her, he would never act on it. “Dude, no. She’s just a kid. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Emily was cute, but not exactly step-mom material. She would have been Ashton’s type ten years ago.

“All is fair in love and war,” Luke recited.

Ashton rolled his eyes again. “Anyway, Emily said that Aubrey has been meowing all afternoon since they came back from the park. Several times tonight I could have sworn that I heard the tiniest little meow inside the house. After I put Aubs to bed, I came down to eat dinner. I went back in to check on her and found this tiny ass kitten sleeping on her pillow!!”

Luke cocked an eyebrow, looking as surprised as Ashton felt. “Seriously?”

“Nooo,” Ashton started sarcastically. “I just needed an excuse to see your gorgeous face at 8pm on a Tuesday night.”

Luke let out a belly laugh and grabbed one of the cat bags. He marched towards the stairs, knowing his way around Ashton’s house like it was his own. “I want to see this mythical creature you have hiding in the house.”

Now it was Ashton‘s turn to laugh. He picked up the other two bags and jogged to catch up to Luke, who was already at the top of the stairs.

They set the bags in the hall and Ashton lead the way into Aubrey’s room. He held his pointer finger to his lips shushing Luke and Luke stuck out his tongue; he obviously didn’t need a reminder to be quiet.

Ashton flipped the bedside lamp on, and sure enough, the tiny kitten was still perched on Aubrey’s pillow, fast asleep.

Luke instinctively reached for the kitten and scooped it up, being rewarded with a mewl and a purr. He stepped into the hallway to get a better look at the two-pound creature that easily fit into his palm. He carefully flipped the kitten over to inspect its genitals. “Aww, Ash. I think you have a baby girl on your hands.” Luke nuzzled the kitten with his nose and passed her to Ashton.

“Wow, she’s so tiny.” Ashton breathed, holding the kitten at eye level. “And so pretty.” He studied the kitten. She was a soft, solid cream color except for her cloud gray accents. Her ears and nose were striped gray with the typical tabby markings. And it looked like she walked through wet paint because her toes and the tip of her tail were streaked with the same soft gray color.

Ashton handed the kitten back to Luke and snapped the collar around her neck. Luke nuzzled her again. He was a sucker for pretty girls and small, fuzzy critters. “Welcome to the family, precious.”

While Luke coaxed purrs from the kitten, Ashton busied himself dumping cat litter into the litter box, filled a bowl with water, and smeared some wet food onto a plate. He carefully arranged them in the bathroom so neither Aubrey or him would trip on them. Luke handed the kitten to Ashton, and Ashton brought her into the bathroom. First he showed her the litter box. He set her in the box and moved her paws in the litter, praying that she had already learned to do this. Next, Ashton set her in front of her wet food. She sniffed the air once and dove straight for the plate. Both men laughed. She gobbled up her entire ration in less than 30 seconds.

“Poor baby was hungry,” Ashton observed. Without warning, he let out a big yawn. “Let’s get her back to Aubs so I can go to bed.”

Luke scooped her up and the both tiptoed into Aubrey’s room. “Do you mind if I tuck them in?” Luke questioned.

“Nah, go for it.”

Luke gently slipped the kitty onto Aubrey’s pillow. He leaned in to kiss Aubrey on the forehead and whispered, “happy birthday, peanut! I hope you love the kitty I picked out for you.”

Aubrey’s eyes popped open. “UNCLE LUKEY?!” Her jaw gaped open, barely awake. “YOU BROUGHT ME SMUDGE? I WUB SMUDGE!” Aubrey sat up and snuggled the kitty closer.

Once again, Ashton was so confused.

Aubrey continued, “You are the bestest uncle ever Uncle Lukey!” She reached for Luke’s hand and tugged him down to her until they were eye to eye. She leaned toward Luke and planted a smacking wet kiss on his cheek. “I wub you so much!”

Ashton narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Did you really do what I think you did?”

“Busted!” Luke grinned sheepishly. “I knew you would say no to me getting a kitty for Aubs, so I decided to sneak it in while you were all out earlier. Surprise? I’d have gotten you a D-O-G because you’re missing out. Me, Cal, and Mikey know what’s up. But I figured a kitty was easier to deal with.”

Both men looked at the adoration on Aubrey‘s face. Ashton could see the love radiating from her smile and he was gone. “You’re the worst best friend I could have asked for,” Ashton laughed. “Thanks. How long have you had her?”

Luke leaned down again to scratch the kitty’s head. “I picked her up four days ago. She's as calm as can be, you’re really going to love her. I kinda think Petunia was angry at me when I took her away. Motherhood was really growing on her,” Luke laughed.

Aubrey got excited when she heard Petunia’s name. “Patooma is Smudge’s mommy??” she questioned.

Luke laughed again. Aubrey loved his dog as much as he did. “Nah, peanut. Petunia isn’t kitty’s mom. But they are best friends, just like me, and daddy, and Uncle Mikey and Uncle Cal. Maybe you and kitty can come visit Petunia this weekend. I think she’d love to see you!”

Aubrey pouted. “Kitty isn’t kitty!!” she yelled. “Kitty is Smudge! She has lotsa dirty smudges!”

Both Ashton and Luke chuckled. Ashton crossed over to Aubrey and Luke stepped away.

Ashton scooped up Aubrey and Smudge. “Sweet pea, Smudge is the most perfect name for your kitty. Let’s get you both tucked in again.”

Aubrey looked tired and complied without complaint. She snuggled down into her blanket and whispered, “I wub you daddee! I wub you Uncle Lukey! I wub you Smudge! And I wub Uncle Cal. And I wub Uncle Mikey. And I wub Patooma.”

“Shhhh,” Ashton interrupted her list. His little girl had the biggest heart and could go in for hours naming all the people she loved. “Get some rest sweet pea, I love you!” He kissed her forehead, turned off the lights and left her door open a crack.

Both men returned downstairs. “You’re a bastard,” Ashton told Luke. “The most lovable bastard I know. Thanks for the precious gift.”

Luke slipped on his shoes and grabbed his phone and keys off the counter. “Yeah, yeah,” he smiled. “You both deserve some companionship to cure the loneliness. You’ll love Smudge in no time too.”

Ashton threw his arms around Luke to hug him. “Love you brother, goodnight!”

“Love you, too.” And then Luke was gone, slipping out the back door.

Ashton flipped off all the downstairs lights and sprinted back upstairs, skipping the squeaky stair at the top. He slipped into bed and wondered what the hell just happened. He closed his eyes and slipped into a deep sleep.

Just before dawn, Ashton felt the bed dip beside him. Then he felt his pillow dip too. He rolled over and found Aubrey in his bed, and Smudge on his pillow. He pulled them both close, sighed contentedly, and went back to sleep.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

[thefeedpost]

Airbnb Reviews Decoded | The New Yorker

Review: The bathroom is clean and bright, equipped with all the essentials!Decoded: Truly, just the essentials. I guess, technically, you don’t need a designated faucet for the tub. You can use a showerhead to draw a bath. It just takes longer. Bonus: the tap water was incredibly hard and gave both me and my boyfriend a new greasy-and-sticky hair texture to experiment with!Review: Their bed has the fluffiest pillows we’ve ever slept on. . . .Decoded: Too fluffy. Little to no support. We had severe neck and shoulder pain after just one night’s sleep.Review: We really felt at one with nature in this secluded gem.Decoded: There were very rambunctious and active squirrels in/on the roof that woke us up at seven each morning.Review: Our hosts were so sweet and quick to respond to all of our messages.Decoded: Soon after our arrival, the sink started making persistent grunting sounds, which were quite disturbing. When we checked in with our hosts about the issue, they responded within two minutes and said, “Oh, yeah, that’s the water filter. Totally normal. Thanks for asking!”Review: We barely left the living-room couch. It was so cozy and inviting!Decoded: No matter how high we set the thermostat, the place was still absolutely freezing. We spent the majority of the weekend on the couch, swaddled in blankets. Not the worst way to spend a weekend, but we would have appreciated it more if this had been a choice.Review: The kitchen stove was very quaint. Our own private cottage! Read the full article

[captainsbabysitter-blog]

Baby Makes Three

Pairing: Benkaru

Rating: Everyone

Length: 2257

Summary: Sequel to On A Whim! We left off with Hikaru showing up on Ben’s doorstep. And here’s the next part: Hikaru Sulu getting wrapped around the tiny fingers of an infant he never even imagined would be part of his life.

~*~*~*~

Hikaru apparently showed up at just the right moment. About half way through the next day, he got a frantic call from Ben asking if anything else was put together because he was on his way to the hospital. Luckily for Ben, Sulu was world class at putting together furniture with an Allen wrench and had gotten it all done in a few hours.

“Yeah, babe, it’s all ready. I’ll meet you at the hospital if you want?”

Just a beat of hesitance before he nodded. “Please?”

When he arrived, he suddenly realized he had no clue who to ask for. He didn’t know the mother’s name and Ben’s name probably wasn’t going to be on anything. The woman behind the reception desk took pity on him and finally asked, “Sir? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, um… My boyfriend he here because his surrogate is in labor.”

“Do you know the surrogate’s name?” When he shook his head, she continued, “Alright, then. He’ll be on a list of approved visitors. What’s his name?”

Once Ben was looked up and the right room was found, she had to remind him that he couldn’t go to the room but could wait in the maternity waiting area. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t really do anything about it so he spent the next few hours pacing with the family members waiting for other babies to come into the world. Every time someone walked through those double doors, everyone perked up like meerkats in hopes that it would be news on their own loved one.

Hours ticked by, and the room slowly emptied until Hikaru was the last one waiting. Ben found him sprawled over one of the tiny couches, fast asleep with several empty cups that must have once held coffee littering the small table beside him. He startled awake, but offered up a sleepy smile when Ben ran his fingers through his hair.

“Hey… Everything turn out okay?”

“Yes. Would you like to see her?” Even now, Ben looked nervous. It was like he expected that moment to be the one where Hikaru went running toward the hills.

Instead, he was treated to a bright grin, “Hell yeah let’s go!”

Ben chuckled, but took his hand as he led his boyfriend through the halls to the lines of infants. Toward the middle was the tiny bundle of human they’d be bringing home with them. She was fast asleep, a tiny black curl poking out of the blanket swaddling her snugly.

There was nothing but pure, unbridled awe plastered to Sulu’s face as he watched her slumber away. “She’s so small…”

“Most babies tend to be.” Just a hint of sarcasm tinted the fondness in Ben’s voice, but it flew right over Hikaru’s head. “They want to keep her for another hour for observation then we can take her home.”

“Wow so this is really happening.” His voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes never left her. “You’re a dad. It feels like just yesterday I was making filthy plans for this trip.”

“You can still back out,” Ben countered, the way he held his body screamed apprehension as he continually shifted his gaze between his new daughter and his boyfriend.

That was what it took to finally pull Hikaru’s attention back to him. His brow furrowed in irritation as he shook his head, “That’s not happening. I still say we should get married.”

Just a bit over an hour later, they both got back to Ben’s place with Demora in tow still sleeping soundly and now cradled against Ben’s chest. Hikaru smiled softly at the sight and moved to the nursery to get anything else ready that needs doing. He hadn’t had a chance to put up those baby bumper things or get the blanket tucked under the mattress, so he rushed around to get that done under the watchful eye of daddy Ben.

“You really got all of this put together?” He sounded impressed as he looked around. “Hikaru… Thank you. Really. I never would have gotten this done before she was born without your help.”

While he rearranged things, Hikaru just shrugged a bit. In his mind there was no other option. He wanted Ben, Ben had Demora now, so Hikaru would make room for her too. Ben being a responsible adult wasn’t about to scare him away when he was a few years away from a career that could take away any opportunity for him to find something long term.

“I didn’t really do anything special.”

“You realize how foolish you sound just saying that, don’t you? I couldn’t find another man in a million willing to do what you’ve done.”

“Then you should marry me,” he quipped back as he stepped away from the crib.

“Hikaru…”

“I’m being serious, Ben,” Sulu continued, watching Ben lay Demora out with a soft smile. “I love you, I’m not going anywhere, and I have a feeling I’m another day or two from being wrapped around her little finger. If I was going to leave, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Ben’s gaze stayed on the crib for just another moment before it trailed over to Hikaru. He seemed to be trying to decide on something. Just when he seemed as though he might say something, Demora started fussing. He scooped her up instantly and shushed her as he made his way to the kitchen for a bottle. Whatever he was going to say took a back burner to that for a while.

No matter how impatient he was, Hikaru had his limits but he tried to give Ben whatever time he needed. It finally slammed into him just how much Ben “I can’t decide on breakfast without planning it a week in advance” Jung’s life has been flipped on its head in such a short period of time. As that knowledge sank in, guilt over how annoying he’s been about the getting married thing followed. Shit. He leaned against the doorframe and just watched the two of them for a few minutes, really taking in the sight. Fatherhood suited Ben.

Was he?

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Ben teased. “What about?”

Words were weighed carefully before he responded, “Just… Realizing I’ve been an ass. Sorry. I should have thought about how stressed you must be right now.”

“For the record, you being here helped more than you know. I hadn’t planned on her coming early and would have come home to boxed furniture with a newborn who probably has less patience than you.”

“Make sure you add that to the ‘Should I Marry Hikaru?’ list you have going.”

Thankfully, he seemed to know Sulu was joking and quirked a bit of a smile. “It’s already on there.”

“One day you’ll have to show me that list. Maybe if we ever do get married.”

“You’re settling for if now? Did you suddenly become a wise old sage between the nursery and the kitchen?” The banter brought the bright smile back to Ben’s lips and Hikaru would keep it there no matter what.

“I think I’m going to just take this trip to spend some time with you and get to know the sprout. You were right about not running in this time.”

“I’m right about it all the time,” he parried and started burping Demora gently.

“Well if I didn’t run in, I wouldn’t have been in Yorktown or I wouldn’t have asked you out. I’d say running in has worked out pretty well for me so far.”

“Mm… I suppose.”

Baby fed, burped, and cleaned up, Ben changed her and got her ready for bed. The late hour was started to drag on them a little (really, couldn’t she have picked a better time than 3am to finally come out?) and all Hikaru wanted was to curl up in an actual bed next to Ben.

A pipedream, he would realize later. The whole next week was spent going from nap time to shrieking wails to trying to get the last touches done in the nursery. Sulu also learned another very important thing during that week: he didn’t know a damn thing about newborns. He let Ben walk him through changing diapers and feedings and he was almost constantly terrified that he would do something terribly wrong.

Between getting next to no sleep, the sparse holiday celebrations where Ben’s family was in and out of the house, and just trying to find time to spend with each other, Hikaru was surprised he didn’t fall asleep standing up on his way to the shuttle when it was time to go. Even with all the mess, he found his chest aching at the thought of leaving them behind.

Demora looked less like a wrinkly red bundle of rage when she and Ben waited with him during those last few minutes before he had to board. Sulu stroked her cheek with a finger and gave Ben a soft kiss.

“You take care of both of you and I’ll be back in spring,” he murmured against Ben’s lips. A quick kiss was brushed against the top of Demora’s head as he added, “And you be nice to him, sprout. I know he’s not as fun, but he tries.”

He laughed at the disgruntled sound Ben made and soothed it with a few more chaste kisses. Last call pulled him reluctantly away from the pair, but he sent several glances over his shoulder at them as he boarded. Spring couldn’t come quickly enough.

~*~*~*~

The com messages and video calls only increased. Hikaru looked forward to hearing about every detail regarding Demora’s development and the videos he got of every little milestone never failed to make even the worst day brighter. All of their video chats started out with Demora in Ben’s lap so he could talk to them both.

Coming up on her third month, Sulu was waiting for Ben to answer his call. His face broke into a wide grin when the image of Demora reaching for the camera filled his screen.

“Hey there, spout!”

She blinked at him for just a moment before her own face broke into a pleased smile. Her giggle and the sigh of her reaching out to touch his face on the screen melted his heart. Ben watched the exchange with adoring eyes.

“She recognizes you,” he explained, smile spreading when Hikaru cooed at the thought. “I have a picture of you in the nursery.”

“And she’s just so smart she recognized me right away!” Hikaru leaned in closer to the camera. “She’s going to be the smartest kid in Yorktown. I can tell.”

The conversation continued on until Demora was fast asleep against Ben’s chest. Ben excused himself for a minute so he could put her down and come back for the more adult portion of their talk. Not having Hikaru at hand to help with Demora was hard, but not being able to touch or taste him while they were intimate was almost worse. He’d need to get used to it if Hikaru was going to be stationed on a starship.

When they were both laid out in their respective beds, sated and somewhat sleepy, Ben traced his fingers over Hikaru’s face much like his daughter had not long before. Hikaru sent him a quick kiss face and a tired smile.

“So you said it’s another two months before I see you again, right?”

“Mm… Yeah unfortunately,” he sighed and rolled onto his stomach so he could prop his PADD against the wall of his bunk. “Two more months and then I’m yours for… I think it’s another two months? Three? I’ll have to check. Why?”

“I just miss you.”

“I miss you both,” he admitted with a yawn. They were in the middle of a round of testing, and he was spending almost every spare moment studying for them.

“Get some sleep. I love you.”

“Mmhm. Love you, too.”

By the time Hikaru was once again standing in Yorktown, Demora was at the babbling stage. He couldn’t help but take her from Ben and snuggle in close when they came to welcome him back. They spent a mostly quiet evening in, Hikaru taking over entertaining the baby while Ben took care of the dishes. By the time he walked back into the living room, Ben found Hikaru sprawled across the couch, both out like a light with Demora laid out on his chest.

He took a picture before carefully waking his boyfriend, “Hikaru… We should get her into bed. You look like you could use some rest as well.”

When they were both settled into bed themselves, Hikaru rolled to pillow his head on Ben’s chest with a content sigh. “And here I used to think I’d never feel domestic.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually…” As Ben leaned over to retrieve something from the bedside table, Hikaru watched on curiously. “I’ve been thinking about this more and more often lately. Every time I think about it, I find fewer reasons to keep saying no.”

Hikaru stared at him, surprise etched in every feature. He motioned for Ben to continue.

“I don’t believe I ever thought I’d do this so quickly before, but… Hikaru Sulu, will you marry me?”

He didn’t even bother with an answer. All he thought to do was pull Ben in for a deep, passionate kiss as his boyfriend- fiancé now- slipped a simple gold band onto his finger.

Tagging: @pinkamour1588 @auduna-druitt @yourtropegirl @thevalesofanduin @mccoymostly @thinkwritexpress-official @southernbellestatues @emmkolenn @randomlittleimp @gracieminabox @goingknowherewastaken

[kyvir]

Bittersweet

"H-how far is he?" Sakura panted as she and Karin hurried through the forest together. 

Being full term in her pregnancy, getting around certainly wasn't as easy as it once was. She hadn't seen Konoha since she'd left to travel with Sasuke a year ago. They'd since been married, and had spent many months traveling together, even after Sakura finally realized she was pregnant. 

As soon as she'd hit her third trimester, Sasuke had turned into a worrywart, and had left her behind in a hideout with nobody else but Karin, while he went about his travels alone. However, he should have been back long before. Sakura feared he may have lost track of time, and her body was telling her that their baby would be coming any time now. She had to find him, she would not allow him to miss the birth of their first child.

"We're much closer than we were, wherever he is, he isn't moving now." Karin explained and Sakura kept pushing forward, both hands wrapped securely around her round belly.

"Do you think he's resting?" She wondered aloud, feeling tired and in need of a rest herself, but she had no will to stop. All she could think about was getting to her husband. The time was coming, fast approaching even.

Karin gave Sakura a worried look over before answering. "Honestly, I think he senses us. His chakra... It's flaring." 

Like he's showing us the way... Sakura just kept breathing. She was in pain, which worried her. It was easy to tell that the baby was eager to make an entrance into the world. Karin was an amazing help, she always did everything within her powers to help Sakura with her daily activities. If Sakura ever asked her for anything, she tried her best to oblige. That was one reason Sakura knew she wouldn't refuse to help her search for Sasuke. 

"He's close to one of our other hideouts. It's not too far from here." Karin said thoughtfully, just before Sakura stopped running altogether and knelt on the ground with a loud groan. "Sakura? What's wrong?"

"Oh... no..." Sakura panted, a desperate look crossing her features as she looked to Karin who took her hand. "My water just broke."

Karin's eyes widened at that as she held tight to one of Sakura's hands. "We've got to get you to that hideout. The baby is coming."

Sasuke had realized his wife and Karin were coming for him. He'd stayed overnight in the nearest hideout, and had been on his way back to her when he felt their signature's drawing closer to him. He wouldn't deny that he was annoyed Sakura was taking it upon herself to come after him, when he was coming back to her. But, he also understood.

The days left until the baby would come were limited, and she was probably afraid that he would miss it.

Karin would be the one leading the way, no doubt following his chakra. Her sensory abilities were outstanding, but Sasuke kept his chakra flaring, strong and easily noticeable so that they would find him with as little trouble as possible. He was cleaning a room thoroughly for Sakura to stay in as he waited for them to arrive. 

It was when he felt Sakura's chakra surge suddenly that panic really hit him. Something wasn't right. He dropped what he was doing the instant he felt the change, and disappeared. In a matter of seconds, he was there by her side. Sakura was crying out in pain, with a death grip on Karin's hand that had the poor girl in tears. 

"Sasuke-kun..." Karin startled when she noticed his presence, which was only when he knelt down next to Sakura and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Ah... Darling..." Sakura groaned, sweating profusely as she gazed up at him through tired emeralds. 

"You're so annoying." Sasuke told her, though his voice carried nothing but affection in it. Sakura laughed through her pain then. "If you hadn't been running around, you might have lasted another day or two."

"But..."

"I know." Sasuke sighed, not needing her to finish that sentence. He knew exactly why she had left the hideout. It was his fault. He should have come back to her much sooner, but it wasn't often that things seemed to work out in his favor. "Let's get you to the other hideout."

Sakura and Karin both gasped in shock when Sasuke summoned his Susanoo to carry the three of them the remainder of the way. His heart was constricting painfully at the way Sakura's breathing seemed to become more and more labored by the second. He'd never felt her chakra in such a mess. It would drop almost the point of nonexistence, and then it would flare up so strongly it was smoldering to even be around. He could only imagine the whiplash it was giving Karin. 

When they finally made it into the hideout and Karin carefully laid Sakura in the room he'd brought them to, (which he'd cleaned thoroughly) Sakura cried out desperately, gripping onto the headboard of the bed as she did. Sasuke was thankful he hadn't taken her hand at that moment as he watched the headboard crumble under her grip.

Sasuke cleared his throat and his resolve as he went to stand by her side, now sweating just as much as Sakura was. Karin had run off, though Sasuke hadn't noticed until she returned with several towels and a wet cloth that was cool to the touch as she handed it over to Sasuke. 

Without even thinking about it, he laid the cloth across Sakura's forehead. She was hot and obviously in pain, even when she was trying her hardest to hide it. Karin was at the foot of the bed, examining Sakura then and Sasuke was struggling to keep his composure, something he usually found easy enough to accomplish. With every whimper that escaped her, Sasuke's heart skipped a beat. He'd rather go to war a million times than to deal with such a nerve-wracking experience such as this.

"She's fully dilated already. It's time."

At Karin's declaration, Sasuke looked down to Sakura's wide-spread legs. She was naked from the waist down, everything that was happening all too visible to the Uchiha. He paled instantly and swayed a bit as a sudden wave of vertigo hit him.

"Sasuke-kun!" Karin scolded him and he righted himself, focusing his attention back on Sakura's face. "Keep it together!"

Sasuke's jaw clenched, and he willed himself not to snap back. It was easy for her to say, Sasuke had never been in such a gut-wrenching situation. He'd never seen such a sight, felt such a fear. Many things crossed his mind, making him anxious and noticeably shaken. Sakura was strong, so strong, but right now she looked weak and fragile and he feared the worst, though he tried to hope for the best.

The experience was excruciating, for Sasuke at least. There were a couple times he almost lost it, almost lost consciousness altogether, almost had a heart attack. Somehow though, they'd all made it through, and now he and Sakura were looking at their newborn baby for the very first time. 

"It's a girl." Sakura sobbed as Karin swaddled the baby before handing her over to Sasuke.

Carefully, hesitantly, and fearfully, Sasuke took the small bundle of joy into his arms, holding her close to him and his pounding heart. She opened her big dark eyes to gaze at him, her crying ceasing as she took him in and at that moment, Sasuke had never felt such an overwhelming sensation of love, affection and emotion. He bit his bottom lip when it began to tremble and he blinked back the tears that filled his eyes.

This little girl was his, she was Sakura's... She was the future of the Uchiha. "She looks... just like you." Sakura cooed, a big happy and tired smile on her lips just before she slipped off to sleep.

"Sakura?" Sasuke called nervously, looking her over desperately.

Karin came to his side and took the baby without a word. "She's just exhausted, Sasuke-kun. Don't worry, I'll get her straight. First I'll bathe the baby."

Sasuke said nothing, instead just gave her a firm nod, eyes on his daughter until Karin took her away. Then he looked down to Sakura, his hand laying over her forehead affectionately. His heart felt full, more-so than it ever had before and he smiled at his sleeping wife in pure adoration.

They'd really done it. The baby was here. Their family was complete. Sasuke took the next few minutes alone to reflect of how surprising the last year of his life had been. He wondered when exactly it had been that he realized Sakura would be everything to him, that she now was. 

Sure, he knew after the war that he'd never be able to forget her, just as he was never able to before. When he'd saw the way she looked at him, still with love and affection, he knew how special that was. She'd waited on him forever, would always do so and that touched Sasuke in the strongest of ways.

He'd promised she could travel with him sometime, and when that time came he hadn't thought much about them and their relationship. It felt strange at first, letting her tag along with him. But, it didn't take long for him to open up to her. He was a changed man, it was easier to accept things, including his feelings.

Sakura also had a way of prying into his heart, of making him want everything that she wanted as well. Even though she knew their lives would not be simple together, and Sasuke would always have demons, and he'd never be able to live free like anyone else could... she still loved him. She still wanted him, more than anything. 

Sasuke respected that, he respected her. They'd been able to move forward together, come closer, get married, and now they had their baby girl. Eyes stinging again, Sasuke leaned down and placed a soft kiss to his wife's forehead. She would never understand just how thankful he was, how much he appreciated her for everything she was to him. He'd never be able to express what he felt with words, for words weren't his forte. He only hoped she had her own way of knowing, somehow.

"Okay, Sasuke-kun." Karin was back in the room and walking up to him.

Sasuke straightened himself and turned to her, taking the baby as she was offered to him. He admired her for how much cleaner she looked. She was sleeping soundly then, bundled snuggly in a small white blanket. An angel, that's how Sasuke saw her. She was his angel. A miracle… the future of the Uchiha.

"Why don't you take her out of the room for a moment, while I tend to Sakura?"

Without a word, Sasuke left the room, though not before glancing over his wife briefly. He walked through the halls, holding the baby close to his heart. It hurt to think about him not being able to be with her long. They'd have to return to Konoha, he had no idea how long a time he'd be granted to spend with his family before he'd have to leave them, but leaving… it was inevitable.

There were still many things he had to see to, take care of, and even Sakura was already aware of this. Sasuke was the only one who could research the other dimensions. He'd decided to do this about halfway through Sakura's pregnancy, and though he hoped to have some time home with his family, in peace... he had no way of knowing how long it would last. More than anything, he wanted them safe, and if that meant he had to stay away, he would.

"How's the baby?" Sakura chirped, noticing the room was clear aside from Karin and herself.

Karin had healed her, helped her get cleaned up and dressed in a gown that was comfortable and easy enough to slip down so she could breastfeed her daughter without a hassle. She felt so good, it was like she hadn't even delivered a baby, but she was certainly eager to hold her.

"Sasuke-kun has her. I told him to leave while I got you cleaned up."

"Oh." Sakura nodded, thinking that made sense. She never expected Sasuke to be to flustered over the experience, and when she thought back on it, she giggled to herself.

"You're feeling okay?"

Sakura nodded, grinning broadly. "Absolutely perfect." She got up from the bed then and stretched. She honestly felt so good after Karin's care that she could have run a marathon.

"Would you like to keep the umbilical cord?"

Sakura gave Karin a warm smile then, before pulling her into a tight embrace. "No, I think you should have it. So you can always remember how amazing you are."

Karin's face turned red as her hair but she hugged Sakura back, a goofy grin on her face. She cared deeply for Sakura, for being so special to Sasuke, for begin his wife- and now the mother of his child. It didn't take long for her to realize why Sasuke had come to love her, even though there had been a time when she thought Sasuke incapable to love.

"Thank you, Sakura..."

"No. Thank you."

Sakura left Karin behind and went in search of her husband and their infant. She found him walking the hall, holding the baby close to him. He moved slowly, head downward to let her know his eyes were solely on the baby, even though she was seeing him from behind.

"Darling," She rang, walking closer to him. Sasuke turned immediately, a look of surprise on his face.

"Why are you-"

"I'm fine." Sakura waved him off immediately, reaching his side then. Her eyes grew wide and sparkled delightfully as she gazed down at her little daughter, who looked like a little baby Sasuke. "How cute!" Her hands pressed to her cheeks then. 

Sasuke smirked at her, just before her eyes raised to meet his and for a moment, they stood like that, just staring at each other. Their eyes seemed to convey everything they were feeling at that moment. 

"We made this, you know..." Sakura looked back to the baby, grinning suggestively.

Sasuke stiffened at that, and Sakura giggled. "Of course we did." He finally muttered after several seconds. 

Carefully, Sakura took the baby from him and held her gently, tears spilling from her eyes at the overwhelming feel of love and happiness she felt then. "What will we name her?" She wondered aloud.

Over the course of her pregnancy while they were around each other, they had discussed it a few times, but they'd never settled on anything. Sasuke leaned over them then, his finger gently caressing the baby's face. "Sarada." He murmured softly.

"Sarada..." Sakura tested the name thoughtfully, though she loved it instantly.

"She will be strong... and graceful."

"And happy." Sakura added with a smile.

Hesitantly, Sasuke nodded once. "I hope so."

He never wanted her to suffer, to feel pain or misery. Though he knew hard times were to come... she'd probably wonder why he couldn't be around eventually when she was older. Sasuke only wished that it wouldn't take him forever, that one day he could live in Konoha, in peace, and be happy with his family- and make them happy as well.

Sasuke was granted a few pleasantries over the next few years. His research had been put on hold, because even though he knew leaving the village was inevitable, there were certain things he never wanted to miss when it came to his daughter, because he would never be able to get them back. Missing anything at all when it came to Sarada made him depressed, but she would only be a baby once. 

He wanted to hear her first words.

Even though Sakura used the words Mama and Papa around her endlessly as she grew, he never expected her first word to be Papa. But it was, and Sasuke had been there to witness it, and he'd cried that day too.

He wanted to watch her learn to crawl, stand, and take her first steps.

He'd been blessed with each of those wishes becoming reality. Sarada had loved him dearly, she always smiled and giggled at him, and Sasuke found it so adorable. He and Sakura were in their home on the bedroom floor with her one day. She'd been standing more and more on her own, and that day she had looked wonderingly at him before taking first one, and then two steps towards him. Both of them held their breath then as she waddled over to Sasuke and after that, she never stopped walking. 

(She thought she was something, and so did they.)

He wanted to make her happy, as happy as he could for as long as he could be with her.

And he did. Even well after Sakura went back to work, Sasuke spent his days at home with Sarada. They played, they laughed, the days flew by, but each and every one of them was a blessing Sasuke would never forget.

He loved tucking her in at night, reading her a bedtime story and sitting by her side until she was sleeping peacefully, and even then he’d watch her for the longest time. She was always a happy child, and she always made Sasuke happy, and proud to be her father. 

By the time she was two, Sasuke took her outside a lot. Daily, they walked around sightseeing together. Sometimes they'd visit Sakura at the hospital, other times they'd go sit by the lake and stare at the water for hours.

Eventually, Sasuke gave his daughter her first weapon, a simple kunai, but he'd been blown away when she slung it at a tree with a flick of her wrist, landing it skillfully in the center of the trunk. He'd blinked at her in disbelief, before taking the kunai away for a few days, in fear of her deadly aim. She was just over three then. 

He never wanted to leave her, or her mother.

But sadly, the time came all too soon. Ino had gladly taken Sarada out for the day, while Sasuke and Sakura met with Naruto at the Hokage's office to discuss things with Kakashi. There were dangers lurking, and it was time for Sasuke to go off and find out what he could do to keep those dangers at bay. It wouldn't be easy, being away from his home, his family, everything he cherished so deeply, but if he wanted to keep all of that safe, he had no other choice.

Though she'd known it was coming, they all had, Sakura cried like a baby on their last night together. She'd tried to remain strong, he knew she would be once he was gone, but he was hurting as well. He held her, kissed her with all the love and anguish he'd felt, and they'd made love until they were both spent, and boneless. Neither of them slept that night, for too many things were on their mind. 

Sakura couldn't stop thinking about him leaving, and not knowing when he'd ever be able to return. Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about his daughter across the hall, of how this would affect her. She'd always loved him so strongly. Would she cry for him? Would she ask about him? Would she end up hating him in the long run for having to leave? Would she understand?

Sasuke hoped she would, at least until he could return and make things up to her. He wanted her to know more than anything, just how special she and her mother really were to him. He was sorry, he was so sorry. The last thing he wanted to ever do was leave them, but what he wanted more than anything else was to ensure their safety. Sakura was an outstanding mother, she would care for Sarada endlessly, she would protect her. And one day, Sasuke would return to his girls.

[selenelavellan]

Safe at Home

Part One

Part Two

Dirthamen/Ethvhenas belongs to @feynites

It takes another month for the spirit to spend less than two thirds of its day asleep.

Which Selene doesn't mind so much, really, because it means she has plenty of time to do her usual work undisturbed. Her potions get brewed, her salves get made, her garden gets tended. 

The tricky part is always when she gets a patient.

Often times, the spirit falls into a deep enough sleep that she has to carry it into the hidden space behind her closets false wall. Which would not be such an issue, except that it has become a very cuddly spirit, and she always ends up having to disentangle herself from its various tendrils before swaddling it inside of her heated blanket and settling the plank of wood back in place. Only then can she safely open her door, and Selene is worried it is making her suspicious to her more familiar patients.

“You took an awfull' long time to open your door,” grumbles Captain Din'Durgen as she enters, tucking her helmet safely beneath her arm.

“Sorry,” Selene apologizes with a bow. “I've been getting more distracted with my work lately. Haven't been keeping as neat a house as I should, and I didn't want you seeing what a mess it was.”

The captain frowns, pale brown eyes scanning over the contents of Selenes home; a pile of unwashed teacups in the sink, mounds of herbs drying on her table, books piled high at the foot of her bed beside a pile of blankets and laundry that need to be washed, and a broken pot still smashed beside her fireplace from when the spirit had woken from a violent dream.

“This is clean to ya'...?” The captain mumbles beneath her breath.

“So!” Selene proclaims before the captain can start digging through her piles and wondering why she has books made for children in her 'recent reading' pile. “What brings you by today? Are you feeling unwell?”

Din'Durgen straightens at the reminder of her duties, clearing her throat while turning back to face Selene. “Ah, yea'. I mean, I feel fine. I'm jus' here on official businesses today. Our Lady Sylaise is throwin' a festival for her 500th weddin' anniversary. Wha' with her brothers people less willin' to travel outta their own territory, she's lookin' for people to make up the difference. Though' maybe...maybe you migh' be interested in goin'.”

“Oh,” Selene says, relaxing a bit “No, I don't think that's a very good idea. I always do poorly in situations that...public. Besides, my shape shifting skills are below par; I'd be a poor addition to her contingent.”

“Well I mean-” The captain clears her throat again, eyes darting nervously up to the ceiling. “I was thinkin' that ya’ maybe wouldn' go with the contingents. Maybe you would go with someone else. Someone who uh-Who thinks ya’ don' need the shapeshiftin' ta look good in the fashions.”

Selene blinks, watching Din'Durgen struggle to keep her embarrassment from leaking too far out of herself.

“Someone like a Cap'ain, maybe...?” Din'Durgen finally manages, holding more tightly to the helmet in her arm than she means to.

Oh.

OH! Selene realizes.

“That's...” Selene shifts awkwardly on her feet. “A very...generous offer. But I think I'll have to decline, if that's alright.”

“If you're worried abou' bein' allowed back into the city, I've already gotten a permit. So long as you stay with your designated escort-”

“'Designated escort'?” Selene interrupts, eyes narrowing. “I'm not a danger to the city, or a child.”

“It's not-I mean you remember wha' happened. Your name is still on the short list for sacrifices, y'know tha'. They won' let you just wander freely aroun' the city after tha'.”

“I know what happened,” Selene says coldly. “And I'm not interested in returning to the city. Thank you for the offer captain, but I have to decline.”

Din'Durgen lets out a sigh. “Selene, I'm not tryin' to be cruel. One good nigh', on the arm of a city captain? Things migh' finally get looked past. You coul' finally start to rise up again, get a good home, maybe even petition for a child one day-”

“I like my home,” Selene says. “And I'm not interested in 'rising up'.”

“I like you, Selene. If you worked at it, we could form a name as a team. And I know, it's intimidatin' to get asked like this by someone in a higher ranking class than you'self, bu' I'll be kind! I won' make you do nothin' you're not comfortable with, and I can get you nice things! You could still work here if you wan' of course, bu' you'd have a nice home ta go back ta at the end o' the day.”

“I've already given you my answer, Captain,” Selene insists as she opens up her front door. “Unless you're planning to push the 'rights' our difference in rank allows you, I have other matters that need my attention.”

Captain Din'Durgen swallows, looking down at the floor in shame as she places her helmet back on.

“Thanks for ya' time,” She says politely as she steps through the doorway “My apologies if I offended ya'.”

Selene frowns, feeling a tiny tug of guilt in her chest at her own reactions. “I could use a few days of space then, if you mean that.”

The captain nods, giving a deep bow before finally disappearing back onto her route.

Selene swings the door shut with a resounding click. She lets out a deep sigh of frustration, then hears an uncomfortable rustling coming from what seems to be her closet.

Moving quickly, she takes out the false back, helping the spirit to untangle itself from the blanket as it climbs up her arms and onto her shoulders.

Several sets of eyes look up at her, worry and concern radiating off of it.

“Did you have a bad dream again?” Selene asks as she replaces the wood once more.

The spirit shakes its semblance of a head from side to side in denial.

“Were you worried when the captain came in again?”

The spirit vibrates slightly, an unsure noise coming out of it as it tightens around her, watching as she starts assembling a salad for lunch in the kitchen.

“Don't worry,” Selene assures them “She's harmless. Unless you're a child of the stone of course, but that's...You're not a stone child are you?”

The spirit shakes its head once again.

“Then so long as you stay hidden, she won't hurt you. I wouldn't let her hurt you anyways. I mean, sure, she's a way higher class than I am, with her fancy armor and her house with bedrooms and things and if we were in the city this would be much, much trickier and if I confronted her physically I could be killed easily. But out here,” Selene indicates out the window with her head, towards the forest. “There's more room to breathe. I could still overstep I suppose, but we're at least a half day from the nearest eluvian. Worst case, we could make a run for it through the forest. There are some older paths that've been overgrown from the division of territories. I found them when I first started exploring out here; we could probably make it all the way to the ocean in a week, avoiding the crossroads and the dreaming...”

She trails off, mind wandering to thoughts of flight and freedom and what might be waiting on the other side of all that water.

The spirit nudges her hand, still holding a fist full of blueberries and snaps Selenes attention back to the present.

Selene shakes the thoughts out of her head, dropping the berries into the bowl and tossing them in the salad alongside the other ingredients. She mumbles a quick apology, handing a smaller bowl for the spirit to hold, and a second for herself. The spirit slides off of her shoulders, carefully moving the herbs from her table over to the windowsill to finish their drying as she places the salad down on the table, and they each take a seat across from each other. Selene fills each of their bowls, eating her own slowly as she watches the spirit form a large beak-like structure, pecking and eating at their own helping quickly.

“You need a name,” She decides as they bat a blueberry around their bowl, struggling to get it into their mouth.

The spirit looks up at her curiously.

“Do you have a name already?” She checks.

A wave of unease washes through the room, as the spirit begins to shrink and shake its head vigorously.

“Would you mind if I gave you one then?”

The spirit nods slowly, waiting with concerned eyes for her to decide.

Halani maybe? No, that's too on-the nose. Falon, too, is too vague.

“How about Ethvhenas?” she offers.

The spirit shifts around in its seat, before letting out a happy sounding chirp in acceptance.

“Ethvhenas it is then,” Selene agrees, thankful to have an actual name to call them. “Would you like seconds?”

Ethvhenas doesn't answer, instead disappearing from their stool only to reappear in Selenes lap, curled up and yawning and swatting curiously at an empty bottle hanging from her belt. She pulls a basket of yarn out from beneath a nearby cupboard with her foot, snatching up a ball of rainbow colored string. She shakes it briefly in front of their face, and all eyes snap towards it with rapt attention.

Selene tosses it towards the mattress, watching with amusement as Ethvhenas jumps after it. They swat at it, then immediately jump back as their wings outstretch in a threatening manner when it changes color at their touch. After a moments hesitation, they move towards the yarn again, touching it and letting out another pleased chirp when it shifts in color once more.

Selene smiles at them, pleased that they've found some manner of exercise that doesn't overexert them too badly. The last time she had tried to get them to exercise in the yard, they had become overly interested in the roots of her freesias, and she had spent an hour panicking when they disappeared beneath the soil before finally discovering them passed out on top of her chamomile, covered in dirt and bruises and scrapes.

This is a much simpler solution for everyone involved, really.

Still, she notices them glancing back at her every few minutes, as though assuring themselves she hasn't left them somehow. Still unsure how Ethvhenas had become so injured in the first place, Selenes stomach twists at the possible implications. Were they betrayed by someone? Another spirit maybe? Laying a trap for them for....something?

Whatever it was, Ethvhenas seems to be recovering well. It's difficult to gauge accurately, because Selene is unsure what their recovered state actually is, but they seem happier, certainly. They have more energy when they are awake, and have even been trying to help her clean her home. Their nightmares have lessened, and even if she lost her favorite pot in the process, it hasn't actually struck out at her in any way, and it's level of affection for her seems to have only grown.

Which...could be an issue down the line.

She should probably come up with a long term plan past 'hide injured spirit for undetermined amount of time'.

Ethvhenas dashes past her, yarn rapidly changing in color as it bats it from tendril to tendril, a large length of it wrapped around its center mass. They seem unbothered by it, and Selene supposes that its not as though you can choke when you don't have a windpipe, so she leaves them be.

Time to start cleaning, she decides.