#imagine your pregnant husband dips on you and you’re like ‘‘man I hope my baby’s okay’’ and then he’s fully in the 10th grade

[macksartblock]

No wonder Jodie was so weird when he met Hermie, he was expecting a fucking 2 yr old

[holylulusworld]

Play by my rules

Summary: Trying to get over the break-up with your fiancé you spend a week with a foreign man. No names. No rules. No seeing each other again. What happens when you stumble into him again?

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester x Jess Moore, Ofc’s

Warnings: angst, comforting, fluff, shitty father, language, protective Dean, arguments, implied smut/light smut, pregnant reader, making-out, dirty talk, mentions of cheating

What daddy doesn’t know Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Six months later…

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Dean muses, lips travelling down your neck while you try to concentrate on the recipe. “Wearing nothing but one of my button-ups while you cook my favorite meal. Barfoot, half-naked, and pregnant. That’s how I imagined you.”

“Dean,” you scold your husband, as he tries to slip one hand into your panties. “I’m wearing your shirt as it’s comfortable. I’m barefoot as it’s unbearable hot and I cook your favorite meal for our dinner with my parents.”

Dean hums, looking over your shoulder to dip his finger into the sauce, moaning as he slips his other hand into your panties to toy with your clit. “Such a needy little cunt you have.”

“If you don’t stop distracting me I will burn the food, Dean. Please, stop,” nibbling at your neck Dean smirks. “Dean.”

“Just let me feel your pretty pussy for a few minutes,” you whine when Dean hastily opens his pants. “If you want me to survive another dinner with your father and brother, I need encouragement, sweetheart.”

“You invited them,” ignoring your protests Dean shoves the button-up you stole from him up to your waist to get a glimpse of your bare ass. “It was your idea. I would’ve preferred to meet up with my mom.”

“Baby girl,” husking the pet name into your ear Dean runs his fingers up and down your slit. “You’re so wet for me.”

"Jesus, you needy bastard,” he laughs at your words, his sweatpants drop to the floor. “I need to watch the food,” you feel the head press against your opening, moaning as Dean whispers dirty promises into your ear.

“Feel this?” Dean places his hands on your hips, already inching his way into your body. “You make me so hard, sweetheart.”

“Shit, baby,” you enjoy the delicious burn Dean’s girth causes, “You’re so deep inside of me, Dean. I love how your cock stretches me out.”

“I know you do,” your husband grins hands gently rubbing your four-month baby bump. “Do you know how hard you get me as you are having my baby? I filled you with my child,” he whispers against your sweet spot, pecking it softly. “I’m gonna fuck you so deep.”

“Dean, in not three hours my parents will drop at our place along with your brother, Jess, and my brother,” pushing back onto Dean you keen. “Fuck me fast.”

“As you wish…”

“Sam,” you greet Dean’s brother. There is still not much love between you and Sam. Sam tried anything to win your trust but so far, you only warmed up for his fiancé, Jess. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam tries to hug you, but you turn to greet his fiancé, ignoring Sam’s pained expression. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Dean wanted a family dinner to announce something,” you try to hide your baby bump underneath a wide shirt but Jess nods knowingly. “He said we shall invite our family’s so…that’s that.”

“Will you ever forgive me?” sighing Sam watches you turn your attention toward Jessica. “Y/N, I apologized repeatedly. I know what I said back then was hurtful, but I try to make things up to you, Y/N.”

“Sammy, give my wife time,” Sam gasps at Dean’s words. “Be lucky she let you be at our nice intimate wedding,” nodding Sam looks at you. His eyes widen when you place one hand onto your belly. “Let’s prepare for her family. You will love her brother, Sammy. He’s a pain in the ass.”

You snicker at Dean’s words while you open the door wider to let Sam and Jessica inside. Jessica slings one arm around your shoulders, whispering something into your ear Sam can’t hear.

“I’m glad you came. My family is stressful, to say the least. I am afraid my brother and father won’t like the good news Dean wants to announce. He could need backup,” you grin, poking Sam’s chest. “What are brothers for if not to share the bad days too.”

“Bad days, huh?” Sam looks at you, searching your face but your serious expression tells him you are not joking. “If you need us, we are here for you.”

“Jason is a bit,” you sigh, not wanting Sam to know your brother is more than a bit annoying, “hard to handle. Don’t get me wrong, I love him but, he doesn’t care about me as you do for Dean.”

“In other words, Jason is an idiot who gives a shit on my wife. He wanted to know about the Singer deal and didn’t stop bugging me when we met for the first time,” Dean pecks your cheek, humming when you wrap your arms around him. “Her mom is nice, though. Be nice to her.”

Sam awkwardly stands in your living room, hoping you will open your heart for him one day while he tries to process your father is worse than his own.

“Mom,” smiling you hug your mother tightly. “I’m glad you came. I made your favorite pie, and we got the ice cream you like so much.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” your mother chokes out and you frown, seeing her lips start to quiver. “I couldn’t wait to get out of the house today.” You can hear the sadness hidden behind her friendly words. Her smile, it doesn’t reach her eyes and you know something must’ve happened.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, welcome to our home. You look beautiful,” Dean smiles, pecking your mother’s cheek. “I can’t decide who’s prettier. You or my wife.”

“Wife?” your father grunts, looking at Dean with angry eyes. “Since when do people call a girl they spend their nights with ‘wife’?” your father spats, eyes drifting toward you.

“Well, I married your daughter four months ago, this makes her my wife,” Dean’s eyes are cold, and even Sam’s flinches when his elder brother steps in front of you to shield you from your father’s angry eyes. “Y/N is my wife. I must ask you to respect her at my house. My house, my rules.”

“I get it, Mr. Winchester,” your father’s eyes drift toward your mother and your stomach tightens when he narrows his eyes, giving her a warning glare. “You handle your wife, I handle mine.”

“I don’t think my wife would appreciate if I ‘handle her’,” Dean’s body goes stiff and you need to place one hand onto his bicep to calm your husband. “We should go to our dining room and enjoy the dinner my wife prepared.”

“A wonderful idea,” your mother nods, giving Dean a soft smile, a genuine one this time. “Let’s enjoy the food Y/N made.”

“The roasted chicken is delicious, sweetheart,” Dean pecks your cheek, giving your thigh a soft squeeze. “All you cooked tastes like heaven.”

“Dry,” your father coughs. “The bird is too dry and the sauce too salty. I guess Y/N needs to practice more often. A woman should know how to cook and not only concentrate on her career.”

“Luckily, Y/N is my wife, not yours,” Dean bites back. “My wife can have a career and live her life the way she wants to. Y/N is fully capable to decide what she wants.”

Your mother smiles anytime Dean defends you. “I’m glad my Y/N found you. She looks so happy since she met you, Dean. Scott, he never made her smile like you.”

“Y/N does the same to me, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Dean says, giving your mother a soft smile. “I never was happier than with Y/N by my side. She gave me everything. Love. Her heart. A beautiful wife. A home and,” Dean’s smile grows when he gets an ultrasound picture out of his jacket. “my son.”

“Son,” your father chokes on his wine, looking at the ultrasound picture in Dean’s hand. “So, that’s the reason you married her. Without that ring, she would carry a bastard.” The words barely left your father’s lips before Dean jumps over the table to fist your father’s tie.

“You son of a bitch dare to come here and insult my wife. You dare to call my son, the child in my girl’s belly a bastard. What kind of father are you?” Sam needs to jump up to hold his brother back or he would kill your father. “Y/N is nothing but loyal to you, your awful son, and your wonderful wife. Why are you such a prick?”

“Dean, he’s not worth it,” your mother sniffles, placing one hand onto your husband’s shoulder. “He never understood how to treat a woman right. He’s a liar, a cheater and an awful person.”

“Mom?” you hug your mother tightly when she begins to cry. “What happened? I knew something is off. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I caught your father red-handed with our neighbor. She’s my friend for over 25 years. I considered her family only for her to stab me in the back,” you run your hands up and down your mother’s back, try anything to soothe her.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grits out. “Sammy, help me get that piece of shit out of my house before I rip his head off.”

“Is that the reason Jason and Erica didn’t come tonight?” your mother nods, looking up at you with tear-clouded eyes. “They know?”

“I called him, asked if I can stay for a few nights but Jason said there is no space at their house. I think they are planning for a baby or something,” you sniffle, hating your brother let your mom down. “I didn’t want to bug you during your honeymoon phase.”

“You will stay with us,” Dean says before you can find your voice. “No discussion. We got three guest rooms. You can stay as long as you want to and watch your grandson grow up. Never believe you disturb us.”

“Thank you,” your mother’s voice cracks when she looks at your husband. 

“We will get your things tomorrow. Don’t worry. This is your home from now on too,” you smile at Dean as he starts to drag your father out of his house, cursing under his breath. “Get out of my house and never come back.”

“My brother and I will get your wife's belongings tomorrow. You better don’t try anything or I will sue you. I’m a lawyer and love to sue people like you,” Sam threatens. “Now you better shove your ass out of my brother’s and Y/N’s house before I forget myself and give you more than a black eye…”

“I can’t thank you enough,” your mother looks around the huge guest room, smiling as you got her favorite pillows and blanket. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Mom, you don’t have to thank me or Dean. You are my family, just like Dean’s,” you sit on the bed, glancing at the pictures your mother placed onto the nightstand. “I’m sorry dad cheated on you mom.”

“I knew he did it before, you know,” huffing your mother looks at her ring finger. She took her wedding band off the moment, Dean, Sam and you returned with her belongings. Your father didn’t even try to win her over again, too busy to celebrate his new freedom. “I should’ve left him years ago. He didn’t treat me well for years.”

“I know, mommy,” you lean your head against your mother’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “I had hoped he would change his behavior when he gets to know he’s going to be a grandfather, I was wrong.”

“How’s your mom?” Dean gently massages your shoulders to help you relax. “Does she like the room? Did you explain the steam shower to her? Do we need to get more pillows for her?”

“She’s sad as dad cheated on her, again,” you lean into Dean’s touch, “but I think she likes the room and to be here. Thank you, Dean.”

“You don’t need to thank me, baby girl,” he pecks your neck, whispering your name. “I love you. Your mom is my family too and I meant what I said, Y/N. Our home is her home now too.”

“I love you too, Dean. You gave me the same things you named during our dinner, Dean. I’m glad I followed you to your suite back then,” Dean snickers, hands now moving to your belly to feel his son. “Not only as you have that magic dick.”

“You are one naughty girl,” you nod, feeling his hand move down to your panties. “I guess daddy needs to show you how much he loves that you are in his life.”

THE END...

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

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[shoutogepi]

Something to Think About

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 2.0k

[ ☀︎ fluff ]  

themes : tooth rotting sweetness & domesticity

bio : You surprise Shouto, and he surprises you right back.

author’s note : alright so this might be a day late but i’m gonna pretend that it’s still father’s day :))) happy father’s day daddy icyhot <3

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂houto is in the kitchen. Contrary to popular belief, he knows how to make more than just soba. Well, at least you hope it’s not soba that he’s making. If that’s the case, it’ll be your fourth meal of cold noodles this week. His back is to you, eyes concentrated on the cutting board atop the marble countertop beneath him, scallions crunching as they’re sliced through with precision.

“Baby?” You start, lingering by the kitchen island with your hands behind your back.

Shouto turns to look at you, a small smile forming on his lips at just the sight of you. He places the knife down, wiping off his slender fingers on the towel strewn over his shoulder. “Hey, love. Didn’t hear you come in— you just get home from work?” He says as he closes the space between you two, hands itching to be on you after not having seen you all day.

Nodding with a hum, your arms wrap around his neck, melting into his broad chest. You can feel the firmness of his muscles through his thin t-shirt, and you grin as a feeling of completeness washes over you. Just simply being in your husband's arms after a long day makes all your worries fade away, his embrace like a gentle tide lapping at you, and cleansing your shore of the stress that is littered there.

Taking his face in your hand, he leans down to press his lips to yours, the metal of your wedding rings cool against his warm cheek. His kiss is soft and sweet, and as you part, he sneaks another peck onto the corner of your mouth. “How was your day?” He whispers, a hand wandering down to splay his fingers at the top of your pants, dipping underneath to press the tips of the digits into your skin.

“It was good,” you answer honestly, leaning back to lock eyes with his stunning gray and cerulean gaze, “but much better now that I’m home, with you.”

Shouto chuckles, stealing another swift kiss before he pulls away, his voice deep and full of affection. “You are so cheesy, my love.” He turns back to the cutting board, the scallions protesting as he finishes chopping them.

Taking a seat on one of the stools at the island, you bite your lip, hands going to fumble through your purse. Where is it… you know you put it in here somewhere…

Your husband throws the end of the stalks into the compost bin, washing the onion juice off his hands at the sink in front of you. His eyes take in your movements with curiosity, and he winks at you when you catch his gaze.

Finally your fingers find the tip of the envelope, and you beam as you slide it out of the confines of your bag. “Hey! I have something for you,” you giggle at the thought of him opening your gift, even if it’s nothing grand. Holding out the envelope to him, he cocks his head to the side as he takes it from you, coming to stand diagonal to you around the island counter.

Shouto doesn’t really know what to expect, though from examining your beaming expression, he’s not fearful to open it. So he does, smirking at you as he rips the blue paper, watching the excitement radiate off of you before he looks down at the card.

Happy Father’s Day!

His heart stops.

Brain going blank, lips parting as his jaw unhinges slightly. And then, his mind is shooting out a million thoughts all at once.

There’s only one reason why you’d be giving him a Father’s Day card—

You’re pregnant?!

You— and him— you’re going to have a baby?

He’s going to be a dad?

And you, you’re going to be a mom?

You’re going to have his baby?

There’s going to be a baby?

A thousand emotions swirl and burst in his chest, like wild, explosive fireworks lighting up a night sky. He feels like he can’t breathe, like the ground has fallen in underneath him, and yet he’s floating here, stuck midair.

“Open it!” You instruct eagerly, completely unaware of the barrage of thoughts that have just pummeled the poor man.

With shaky hands, he opens the card, his lungs completely still as he holds onto his breath, unable to speak.

Thanks for being the most paw-some dad there is! Love, Beans

Shouto nearly collapses as he realizes that the card is supposed to be from your cat. He lets out a trembling breath, eyes frantically flickering over the card again, and again. Just to make sure.

Just to make sure.

“It’s funny, right?” You laugh, blissfully ignorant of the rollercoaster Shouto feels like he’s just been thrown onto; one with no safety bars or seatbelts that demands he holds onto the handles for dear life.

“Y-Yeah.” It slithers out of him, barely even audible. His throat is dry, chest tight as he tries his best to put a name to the hollow feeling inside of him right now.

You look at him in concern, reaching out to rub the side of his arm. “Hey, are you okay?” You murmur, confused as to why his mood would suddenly flip like this. “I’m sorry Beans couldn’t think of a better pun, she’s not very creative y’know?”

As if on cue, Beans enters the kitchen, tail straight in the air as she rubs her head against your ankle, and then her flank on Shouto’s leg.

Jostled out of his consuming thoughts, he reaches down to scratch behind her ear for a moment, brow furrowed. When he stands back up, he makes his way to the stool next to you, sliding into it before he places the card on the counter, and takes your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, but he remains silent, lost in thought again.

Craning your neck to get a better view of his pensive expression, you squeeze his hands gently. “Shou?”

At the sound of his name, he locks eyes with you, and for the tiniest second, you swear you catch a distant sadness there. He squeezes your hands back, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes forming on his lips. He takes a long, deep breath before he speaks. “I’m fine, love. I just— I think I misunderstood at first is all.”

You look at him, bewildered, your mouth opening. “Misunder—” It’s then that your eyes go wide with shock, darting to the front of the card before landing back on him. “Oh my god, Shouto— I am so sorry. That must’ve scared the shit outta you,” you groan, slipping a hand from his to cradle your forehead in shame. “I am so stupid, I can’t believe myself.”

“Hey,” he cuts in, warm fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. When your eyes meet his, your stomach bursts with butterflies at his determined expression. “You’re not stupid. It was a cute idea… The execution was a bit questionable, but y’know, Beans isn’t the brightest.”

You smile half-heartedly at that, and Shouto takes your chin in his palm, long fingers stroking your jaw.

“I won’t lie, you did scare me,” he says in a gentle tone, looking at you with sincerity. “I was completely frozen for one whole second. And then, I… wasn’t.”

Licking your lips, you place your hand on his knee, trying to understand where he’s going with this.

Shouto’s looking at you softly, thoughtful eyes peering into you. “For those few seconds, I thought that you were pregnant. And even though the thought initially scared the shit out of me, I don’t know— I… I felt…  excited.”

He’s watching every change in your expression carefully, trying to gauge your response to his words. He takes in your eyes widening, your lips parting in shock. The two of you have talked about this before, about if you’d ever want kids. And at the time, you’d agreed that you both wanted a family, sometime in the future. But that was years ago now, before you were even engaged— it seems like it’s been forever since then.

“I’m not saying I want to jump into anything blindly,” Shouto hurries to find the right words, fearful that you’re thinking he expects you to instantly be ready for such a commitment. “I just mean that, if you were to get pregnant… would it be such a bad thing? I know we said we’d wait to have kids, but that was a while ago, and… now’s as good a time as any, right? You just got promoted, crime is down so my hero work is more steady. I love you, and I know you love me— our home would be the best environment for a baby; full of love and support. I know you’d make the most incredible mother. You’re the only one I can imagine doing this with, my love.”

His heart starts to thump against his ribs when you smile at him, your eyes looking a little glassy. “Shouto,” you whimper, words failing you.

He squeezes your hand again, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything, angel. I don’t mean to spring this on you, I just… I needed to tell you. Because for those ten seconds, I felt like I was truly the luckiest person in existence. I already am the luckiest, because I have you. But the premise of you carrying my baby, I— it just filled me with so much joy.”

There’s a brief pause before you force yourself to speak, and it comes out more like a croak. “I don’t even know what to say...” you whisper, tears gathering along your bottom lashes.

Shouto smiles at you, his own eyes misty as he wipes away a tear that runs down your cheek. “Say you’ll think about it, love. Give it some time, we’re in no rush. It’s just something to think about, okay?”

You nod, feeling choked up all of the sudden. The idea of expanding your family had been on the back-burner for so long; now that Shouto’s brought up the reality of it, you’re emotional. And excited, too. “Okay,” you sniffle, pulling on him until he brings you into his lap, shuffling you into his warm embrace. Nuzzling your face into his neck, you breathe him in, trying to steady your rapidly-beating heart. “You smell like onions,” you complain with a watery laugh, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Yeah, sorry,” he chuckles, moving the cooking towel off his shoulder. A large, warm hand runs up and down your spine, his lips touching your forehead delicately. “Some strong scallions I was cutting,” he remarks.

Leaning back, you can’t stop the grin from splitting your lips, your fingers reaching up to wipe the lone tear that escapes despite his best efforts. “I love you,” you murmur, nose touching his as you go in for another kiss.

“I love you too,” he mumbles against your mouth, lips warm and slow on yours. A hand wanders down to rest on your stomach as you kiss, his warmth seeping through the material of your blouse.

You smile against his lips, heart full and nearly bursting at the seams. So he wants to have a baby, huh? Certainly something to think about. Though a part of you already knows that you won’t be stuck just thinking about it for too long.

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

.

sorpriseeee!! look guys, i can be soft! and no i didnt write this to clear my conscience of the sin from last night whaaa 

i know i rarely write sfw things but idk i’ve been thinking of expanding into fluff and angst lately too (not sayin it’ll always be sfw LOL) so, please let me know if you enjoyed!! <3

➥ masterlist 

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[smarchit]

Look Around, Look Around pt 6

Summary: You escaped an abusive marriage, pregnant with your husband’s child. He sends a bounty hunter after you to bring you back. Everything changes. Din Djarin/pregnant!reader, no use of y/n

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Pregnancy/related topics, implied/referenced rape, mentions of abuse, blood, labor

Notes: Blown away by Tumblr’s response to this tbh. I’m absolutely overwhelmed by all the kind comments <3

He was supposed to take you back to Sorgan after that job. Supposed to take you back and let you spend the last few weeks of your pregnancy in comfort, let you give birth there in safety.

You managed to convince him to take you to a few more planets under the guise of wanting to see if there were any cities with salt baths that would help your swollen feet and legs. He knew you were lying through your teeth, but he never said anything one way or the other.

Now at a little over eight months pregnant and with your own gravitational pull, you walked through a vibrant market place of a large, exotic city during the height of their local fertility festival. You had been given baskets laden with blankets, food, and natural home remedies for easing the pain of birth.

People threw colorful powders and fragrant flowers in the streets at one another and it was extremely difficult not to get caught in their crossfire. You were certain that you were covered in vibrant color - you may have even been the target on more than one occasion because of your pregnancy. Not that you minded. You were having too much fun.

The little one was captivated by brightly colored dancers that spit fire in brilliant arcs across the path. The bells on their ankles caught his attention more and whenever one would cartwheel in front of his pod, he would make a grab for them, despite the gentle scolds from Mando.

You currently were sitting at a round patio table at an outdoor café. Lively music from a nearby band was muffled slightly by the crowd enough that you could speak without losing your voice.

"This is amazing!" you said to Mando, who looked incredibly out of place amidst bright colors and bare skin of the locals. He shifted in his seat and you knew he was scanning the crowd for potential threats. It wasn't personal, and it wasn't anything against the planet or its inhabitants, but more just who Mando was as a person.

Good gods, did the man ever relax?

Mando had ordered a cup of soup for the child, and expressed his displeasure for you turning down food.

"You need to eat something," he said firmly, straightening his back.

"I'm not hungry," you sighed. "The moon is currently displacing my vital organs."

"Your moon is exactly why you have to try to eat something," he said with a sigh. He shook his head and looked back over at the child, who was glancing between the two of you. When Mando looked at him, he smiled and babbled.

"She's moving around a lot in there today," you groaned, rubbing one side of your belly. "Take it easy, little moon. We're not going anywhere."

"Must be getting cramped in there," Mando hummed without looking back at you. He did another once over of the crowd and then sighed.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Just too crowded."

"Not a people-person, Mando?" you hummed. 

"You wouldn't be either if you were me."

You supposed that was true. Even a few months ago you wouldn't have come to a place like this where bodies touched and jostled on either side of you. You got comfortable, but you imagined if you were in his boots, you would hate places like this. Too much chaos. Too many things that could go wrong.

"We should go," he said after a moment. He grabbed a basket and helped you to your feet before guiding you through a dip in the crowd.

It took a while to reach the hangar where the Crest was located due to the throng of bodies in your way.

Once you arrived back, Mando handed you a towel to wipe powder from your hair and clothes.

"The puck got activated," he said grimly as he locked the hatch.

You were shaking flower petals from your hair and the smile instantly dropped from your face.

"What?"

Mando turned to you. "I knew it was too easy. He let you go too easily for that to be the end of it."

You walked backwards until you found a seat and lowered yourself into it. Your heart pounded in your ears and you barely registered his words.

Your husband knows exactly where you are.

He knew what you were doing, where you were going, he might even know where you planned on giving birth. Would he attack then? When you were raw and vulnerable, bed soaked in your blood and eyes wild with instinct?

Like a caged animal. Though injured animals will do anything to protect themselves.

"Hey, hey, don't give out on me," Mando said loud enough to draw you from your fear. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you gently so you would look at him. "You're safe with me, okay? I'm not going to let him take you." 

"Why is he-- Why is he doing this?" you whispered as you felt tears start to fall. You could barely speak. The thought of him finding you touching you, putting his hands on you... On your baby. It made you sick. It made you scared. It made you angry.

"Because he's a coward," Mando said softly, guiding your face back to look at him when you glanced away. "He's small; he has to hurt others to feel better. You are safe. You and your moon." He placed a warm hand on your belly. The baby flip flopped in response.

"Please don't let him get me," you begged. "Promise me. Not me. Not my baby."

Mando looked at you and nodded. "I promise." He leaned up on his knees and pressed his forehead to yours. He held the position for a moment before he got to his feet.

"We're leaving this planet right now," he said. He picked up the baby and set him back in his pod and turned to set coordinates.

"Where will we go?" you asked, suddenly feeling like the smallest person in the galaxy. "Where will we go that he can't find us?"

"I have a few places in mind," he said as the ship dragged itself out of the planet's atmosphere. "Safe places."

"Sorgan?" you asked hopefully.

He paused for a minute. "Sorgan isn't safe. If he knows you were there he'll have people there waiting."

You held on tight as he punched in the coordinates for some unknown planet in on the pad. 

What would you do if it came down to capture and return?

You couldn't help but cry. You looked down at your stomach and cupped both hands around it.

"I'm so sorry, little one," you whispered.

***

A few hours later, Mando dropped the ship out of hyperspace. A planet lay before you, dark and unfriendly looking in the blackness of space. There were a few lights from cities spread out in the far reaches of the large sprawling continent, but beyond that, you could see nothing.

"What is this place?" you asked.

"Arvala-7," he replied. "I had a... Friend who lived here. Worked on a moisture farm. Helped me with the kid."

"He doesn't live here anymore?" you asked, forcing yourself out of your seat with difficulty. You ignored the pain in your belly and back - normal for this late in your pregnancy. False labor couldn't detract from your fears right now.

"He died," Mando said softly.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't reply and started the deceleration to land in a remote section of desert.

"You should be safe here," he said as he lowered the hatch for the two of you to step out.

"Should be?"

He nodded. "Should be."

"How could he find me?" you asked softly as Mando set about shouldering open the long-locked front door.

"Tracking pucks," he grunted, throwing his whole body against the door. He let out a rather undignified cry as he fell inside when the lock finally gave way and the door banged open. When he stood he fished one out of his pocket and held it out in his palm to you. It flashed a rapid red as it neared you. "That's how."

"Why now?" you asked. Rage welled up in your heart at the thought of this vile man getting a hold of you again.

"Probably just wants to scare you," he said as he set about tidying the little house up. "Knows that baby is coming soon. Just wants to stress you out more."

As if on cue, a particularly rough false contraction hit and you vaulted forward to grip the edge of the table. You arched your back, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Oh, kriff," you gasped, gritting your teeth. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a few deep breaths in and out. "Maker, I don't want to know how bad the real thing is gonna be."

"You won't be alone," Mando said softly as he placed a hand on your back.

"Yeah, well," you gasped, "No offense, but have you ever delivered a baby?"

Mando was quiet. 

"Yeah, didn't think so."

"You'll be fine," he assured. "Sit. I'm gonna go look around, see what we can salvage and use."

You sighed and nodded. "If you need help, let me know. Sometimes walking helps with the pain."

He looked around at the state of the main living room. "Okay. Here, I'm gonna fix the bed. You go and get the blankets from the ship. Take a few trips if they're heavy."

You took the key from him and started back towards the ship, a hand grasping your belly. It's okay, my moon.

As you boarded the ship and headed towards the bedroom, you heard what sounded like voices from the cockpit. Taunting voices drifted down the ladder and through the corridor to you, though you couldn't make out what was being said. As your heart hammered away in your chest, you tiptoed to the ladder to ascend to the cockpit. 

It became obvious to you as soon as you breached the top of the ladder that the voices were on a recording, an old transmission that must've automatically started playing when the ship picked up a bio feedback on board.

"...don't worry, Mando. We just want the little whore you been travelling with. Not that ugly kid," a low voice growled up at you from the holopad. A thin blue image of a burly, bald man was staring up at you and illuminating the otherwise dark cockpit. "Ain't got nothin' to worry about with us. In and out, like always. She got a good price out on her, and with that baby intact, there's a double offer on 'em. So we call it even, got it? Besides, Xi'an misses you."

Your heart was pounding in your throat as you sank into the pilot's chair. Mando was right. People were looking for you.

A chilling thought entered your mind and no matter how much you tried, you couldn't shake it.

Did Mando turn you in?

You broke out in a cold sweat as you glanced around the cockpit for something that could be used as a weapon. If he knew that you saw this message...

Maybe he didn't have to know you saw it. After all, he just sent you in here to get the bedding. He wouldn't know... You hit delete, hoping maybe he wouldn't find out about it.

You quickly descended the ladder and retrieved some of the bedding and carried it down the ramp of the ship.

Mando was tending to the moisture tanks a little way away from the house and you eyed him warily. It was the first time in six months you had not trusted him. 

Why would he wait until now? Were he and his friends waiting to literally snatch the baby from between your legs and drag you by your hair, kicking and screaming to your ex-husband, a bloody trail dragging behind you?

Mando wouldn't do that. You knew he wouldn't. So why now were you so afraid? Was it just the mounting anxiety of new motherhood catching up to you?

You busied yourself as best you could while you waited for him to come back to the house, both by trying to clean up all the dust that gathered and by watching the baby.

He had been uneasy the last few days, especially around you. He would babble softly and reach for you to pick him up, which you had been having trouble doing due to the fact that you could barely bend over. 

One time he cried so hard and so loud that Mando ended up taking him for a walk off the ship until he fell asleep so your breasts would stop leaking and soaking through your shirt.

The lights came on automatically a few hours later and were droning steadily for half an hour by the time Mando came back inside

"So bad news," he said with a tired sigh as he dropped into a chair at the rickety kitchen table. "Moisture tanks are busted to hell. Looks like Jawas scavved the machinery. I tried to salvage what I could but no luck."

"What are we going to do?" you asked softly.

Mando shrugged. "Gonna have to go find somewhere. We're gonna need a lot of it, especially when that baby decides to make an appearance."

"Should I come with y--"

"No. You're gonna stay here," he said firmly. "I'll leave my gun and a knife for you."

"You're going to leave?" you asked, heart racing.

"I'll only be gone a couple of hours," he said, getting to his feet. He unholstered his blaster and took a knife from his sheath. "Safety is off on that. Use it like I taught you if something happens, okay?"

He handed them both to you and picked up the baby. "I'll leave the ship. If anyone comes, you go inside and you lock that door. Nothing on this planet will get inside. I'll be back by morning."

Mando came over to you and cupped his hand around the back of your head and pulled you close to press his forehead against yours. Second time he's done that...

He seemed hesitant to pull away from you. He placed the baby in his pod and looked back at you, his shoulders tense and squared.

"You'll be safe here. I promise," he said as he opened the door. "I'm gonna take the kid with me. You need to take it easy and he'll just be upset the whole time."

You looked at him, eyes wide with fear as you watched him leave.

For a moment, you debated telling him about the message on his ship. But you knew then he wouldn't leave - and you needed water. Washing, cleaning, sanitation, drinking. A lot of water was necessary, especially if you were going to be here for a while.

He shut the door behind him and you waited a few minutes before you got up and shoved a broom through the door handle, effectively locking it from the inside. If you needed to escape out the back door, it would buy you a moment of time.

He knows where I am. He knows I'm with the Mandalorian... He knows that I am alone.

You had to do something to keep your mind busy and off of the thought of being taken back to evil himself. It wasn't easy, and you desperately wished that he left the baby. He was right though. You needed to rest and sleep as much as you possibly could.

You also wished that you brought something to do to distract you from the excruciating pain that was now tearing itself through your lower body. As quickly as you could, you ran to the section of the abandoned homestead that had once been used to repair the moisture tanks, both now stripped bare of essentials. A passing knowledge of some of how some of this stuff works comes in handy every now and then. You had a timer fastened together in no time, set to beep once a minute. It would keep you alert, at least.

As you made your way back to the main part of the house, the pain subsided. You allowed yourself to eat part of the food that Mando had brought in, hoping that would quell the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

The baby turned and shifted as the night went on, even as you bedded down to for the evening. 

Sleep didn't come easy that night for you and as you lay awake in the darkness of Arvala-7. All you could do was hope that you wouldn't be alone when the baby came.

***

Mando wasn't back the next morning. He wasn't there to help you out of bed, or to call you me'suum. The Crest was still there though, which brought a little comfort to you that he hadn't simply abandoned you on this desert planet to die of thirst.

He didn't come back by lunchtime.

Or dinner.

Or long after the lights came on.

You found a small leather skin under the bed that had about a day's worth of water in it. It was warm and had a bit of a sandy grit to it, but you drank deeply from it all the same.

That night, in the early hours of the morning, your waters broke.

And you were utterly alone.

***

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added!):

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries

[shirtlesssammy]

6x02: Two and a Half Men

Then:

Sam Winchester’s back from Hell

Now:

A woman runs with her baby from an unseen assailant in her house. She gets herself and her baby under the bed and they stay as quiet as possible. She sees her dead husband on the floor and can barely keep it together, but does, just in time for the assailant to pull her out from the bed, leaving the baby to watch the carnage. 

Dean, Lisa, and Ben start unpacking their life in their new home. 

Sam checks out the murdered couple. The baby is missing.

Dean orders pizza for lunch, disregarding Lisa’s earlier promise to Ben that they’ll check the neighborhood out when they go out for lunch. 

Sam confers with Grampa Campbell about the case. Something weird is happening with babies. Sam doesn’t see it, but notices that the house has a security system that wasn’t set off by the invader. They have a lead. 

Dean wanders into the garage to find Ben messing around with a shotgun from Baby's trunk. He makes it VERY clear that Ben will never shoot a gun. 

Ben wants to do what Dean does. Dean turns on the ol’ John Winchester charm and yells at Ben to shut up about the gun. Ben backs down and walks away, dejected. 

Samuel has found another family that has the same security system --and fits the profile of the previous victims. Sam heads out to find them. 

Lisa confronts Dean about his altercation with Ben. She wants to know what’s up with Dean. If they killed what was after them, why is he acting like this? She gets that he’s trying to protect them, but he’s scaring her. 

Sam gets to the couple’s house only to find them already murdered. He follows bloody footprints through the house. 

The murderer pops out at him and they fight. Sam slices him with a silver knife, and the wound hisses. The assailant runs away. 

While Dean secures the perimeter that night, Sam calls needing his help on a case. Dean insists that he’s out. Sam tells him something so interesting that Dean meets him. 

Sam saved the baby!

The next morning, Dean hands Lisa a gun, tells her to salt the doors and windows, and takes off to work the case with Sam. 

First on the agenda: shopping for baby supplies. As they’re checking out, the baby starts wailing. Neither brother knows what to do --and here I want to question what the hell Dean’s thinking. Sam has an excuse re: no soul, but Dean, you’ve taken care of a baby before. Anyway, they keep looking at the poor thing like it has two heads. 

A nice woman comes up to coo over the baby and asks his name. Dean answers, “Bobby” and Sam answers, “John”. Yep, the baby is named Bobby John. She offers to change his diapers for them. Dean glances over at a security monitor and sees that her eyes are glowing. 

Dean declines. More specifically he says, “Give me the baby before I stab you in the neck.” Bold. The lady takes off running with Bobby John. Sam wrestles the baby from her while Dean full body tackles her to the ground. She plays the old lady card and security comes after Dean. He runs. 

Sam and Dean need to get off the road, especially since the shifter caught Sam’s license plate and is now a cop tracking the number.

At a motel, Dean changes Bobby John’s diaper and then hums him to sleep with Smoke on the Water. EVERY TIME I’m sorry to say this just makes my brain emit a low, steady brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

For Tender Dean Science:

Okay, I’ve rebooted. 

Sam - who has spent the whole time seated in front of research material - is impressed at Dean’s fatherly chops. But like, HE RAISED YOU, SAMMY. You must at least be able to logically analyze your memories? Dean chalks up his skillz to his recent experience parenting Ben. “I know he’s not my kid, but lately I’ve been feeling like...yeah, he is.” He’d like to raise Ben better than they grew up. In related news, do you ever want to just chew off your own arm???

Soulless!Sam informs Dean that moving Lisa and Ben from place to place is just as bad as their own fractured childhood. 

Sam pushes Dean to consider that his paranoid behavior is turning him into their father. I do like that Sam is helping my girl Lisa out with the traumatized man living in her home but DAMN, SAM. While Dean broods over his failures as both a father and a partner, Sam realizes that the dad in the recent deadly home invasion is still alive. He heads out, leaving Dean to dip his finger in whiskey and let Bobby John have a taste.

Bobby John’s dad is...not bereaved. His wife was cheating on him and got pregnant. (So apparently she deserved a gruesome death? Huh. Good to know, dude.) She denied she was cheating, telling him that he’d come back early from a trip and they’d had sex. It’s fun how the layers of trauma this cold open woman goes through just get worse and worse. 

At the motel, Dean’s relaxing on the vibrating bed when there’s a wet explosion from the crib. It’s not a poopy diaper! When he peers over the crib, Bobby John’s an entirely new baby. (He’s the baby on the diapers box and I really hope those parents got to keep that prop!) Sam calls with a new theory - the baby’s father is a shapeshifter!

Bobby John gets cleaned up just in time for a shady manager to knock on the door and demand to be let in. The shapeshifter cop from earlier bursts in just as Dean unlocks the door. He’s there to bring the baby to “our father,” whomever that is! They engage in fisticuffs, until Sam arrives and shoots the shifter.

Later, they’re driving off with Bobby John to find a safe haven for the little tyke. “I didn’t even know they had babies,” Sam says, of shifters. “I thought they were just freaks of nature - like, X-Men style.” Gurl, please. He refers to Bobby John as a monster, but Dean insists that Bobby John is just an innocent baby. If I had a dollar for every time this show danced around this point only to fuck off and forget it in the next episode, I’d have a lot of dollars. 

Sam suggests bringing Bobby John to the Campbells to raise, which Dean thinks is a monumentally poor idea. (I’m Dean/Cas endgame BUT imagine society if Dean had brought Lisa a shapeshifter baby to raise!!!) Sam “not all hunters” the Campbells, then says that Samuel is like Dean. This is...not the slam dunk argument Sam thinks it is. “I’m a freakin’ head case,” Dean rebuts and it is a SOLID REBUTTAL. Still, they head to the Campbell’s compound.

And it is a literal compound, with armed guards standing patrol at the metal gates. In the grim main building, cold Campbells circle Dean and Bobby John like sharks. All the Campbells look like they’re one step away from taking a knife to the baby. Dean refuses to hand over Bobby John to any of the “family.” Sam asks to hold Bobby John. Sam then immediately turns around and hands Bobby John over to Samuel and I CHEW MY OWN ARM OFF I HATE SOULLESS!SAM sometimes. Dean wants to know what the plan is now.

All the dark looks shot between the Campbells make me want to scream, and then weep. 

Dean’s worried about the Campbells wanting to study Bobby John (in the mad scientist way) and Christian Campbell laconically comments that Dean’s mind goes straight to torture. When Dean demands an explanation, it’s revealed that the Campbells know aaalllll about Dean’s torture time in Hell. 

The Campbells also fantasize about what a great hunter a shapeshifter will make. Samuel demands that Dean trust him, and then interrogates Christian about his baby-making failures with his wife. He offers Bobby John to Christian. “The crap I do for this family,” Christian mutters as he takes the baby. READERRRRRRRRRS, I hate him.

Outside, a dog yelps. Dean and Sam flee for the panic room with Bobby John while the Campbells load up with weapons. A shapeshifter arrives, wearing Samuel’s face. They tranquilize him after a fight, and try to take him prisoner. 

The shifter heads down to the panic room wearing Sam’s face, tosses Sam across the room, and then just...shimmers himself into Dean’s form. 

The shifter pins Dean against the wall, cutting off his air until he passes out. He then takes Bobby John and calmly walks out. 

Later, they all reconvene after the fight. Samuel reveals that the shifter was an alpha shifter, who spawned all the other shifters. “The lore” also says that an alpha can sense their babies anywhere. 

As Dean and Sam walk out to the car, Dean goes over the details of the hunt. He wants to know if Sam registered what the shifter at the motel had said about his “father.” Sam lies incredibly poorly, but Dean puts it all together. If Sam knew the alpha was on the hunt, then he would have known that he would come after Bobby John. Dean wants to know if he was using the baby as bait. Sam plays it off - he just thought the Campbell compound was the safest place. UGH DOUBLE UGH at all the terrible layers. 

Samuel has a brief phone call, complaining to an unknown boss about how hard it was to try to take the alpha shifter prisoner. 

Back at Lisa’s, Dean frets about the best way to keep Lisa and Ben safe. He acknowledges that he’s been acting like a prison guard. “You tell yourself you’re not gonna be something...my dad was exactly like this. All the time. Scared the hell outta me.” Lisa tells him that she knows one thing: 

She looks at him, and sees someone who wants to hunt. But she also tells him that he sees himself as “some bad, awful thing. But you're not.” She proposes that Dean head out to hunt with his brother, and stop by when he can. Maybe they can have it all!

Dean smiles a real, honest smile in the garage as he pulls the car cover from Baby. Smoke on the Water plays us through a truly gratuitous hot rod close-up of Baby. The curves! The headlights!

For I’m Just Gonna Give You Two the Room Science:

Dean is back in town!

Baby Quotes:

So either we've got monsters grabbing babies to make baby stew, or we've got a bunch of psychotic yokels grabbing babies to make baby stew. Either way, it's baby stew, which is bad

You think I speak baby?

I've never seen a baby monster before

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[greatbigbellies]

Hello! Another new anonymous commission! This is a continuation of THIS STORY and follows the later half of Leo’s hyperpregnancy!  Contains hyperpregnancy, tmpreg, some more weight gain and lactation, belly worship, allusions to sex, and general soft lovey dovey content. Enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t need help carrying anything?” asked Leo, his massive belly swaying left and right as we waddled next to his husband, Marko. Leo was wearing floral swim trunks, and his more than ample chest was covered by a large, stretched tank top, but it did nothing to shield his pale, pregnant belly form the sun. Marko’s arms were full of beach towels, a heavy picnic basket, a bucket of bulk-order sunscreen, and two folding chairs for the pair. He stared at Leo’s belly, then into Leo’s eyes, before shaking his head and smiling. “I love you hon but you’re carrying enough,” he said. Leo realized his hands were all but glued to the sides of his tummy to steady his gait, and he realized that, yes, 24 babies was probably enough for one man to carry. Or is it? He thought to himself.

Leo had maintained mobility for a little longer than expected, so the two set out for one final non-stay-home-and-eat date together, at a nearby beach just an hour away. The stretch of sand was largely unpopulated, save for some squawking seagulls, so the couple had the privacy they needed to just… be. Granted, Leo had grown more accustomed to being the center of attention, and in a weird way was starting to enjoy it, but there was still something serene about being alone with his doting husband.

Marko checked his watch, and looked around the beach before setting the chairs down in the sand. “Tide’s coming in… and if my information is correct, in a couple hours, the water well flow right up across your lower tummy, and run over your feet. From here, you can experience the ocean without having to get up!” he said, unfolding one chair behind Leo, letting him take a seat. Leo’s considerably widened hips and butt filled the chair, creating audible creaks as it supported his pregnancy weight.

Marko laid out a towel on the sand before plopping the rest of the supplies on it. There was a nice breeze, carrying the cool ocean mist up to the pair without being obnoxiously strong. “You hungry babe?” asked Marko. Leo nodded eagerly, prompting his husband to pull a very stacked sandwich out of the basket. “I’ll get to work on your sunscreen while you eat that,” he said, kissing Leo on the top of his head, making the pregnant man blush.

He popped open the bucket of sunscreen while Leo tore into the sub, taking in the cacophony of flavors. Marko all but dunked his hands into the sunscreen, getting a good thick coating on both hands, before moving over and placing them on the front of Leo’s tummy. He shivered a little at the sudden application of cold lotion to his bare skin. Marko moved his hands in large, sweeping circles, applying a coating of sunscreen to Leo’s expanse of gravid skin. He leaned forward and placed a quick , loving kiss on the front, before covering that spot with more sunscreen. 

“You love doing that, don’t you?” Leo asked between bites. “What, putting sunscreen on you? I guess?” said Marko confusedly. Leo chuckled, causing his belly to jiggle slightly. “No… well… yes obviously you love doing that, but… kissing my belly. You do it all the time,” he commented. Marko, blushed, but Leo couldn’t see it past his expansive midriff. “I mean… it’s like kissing you and our kids at the same time? I just… I have a lot of love to give you guys,” he replied. Leo beamed, his husband was such a softie. “Honey you DON’T have to explain yourself I love it when you do that! I was just pointing it out,” he said. The chair creaked again as he continued his sandwich. .

Marko moved onto the left flank of Leo’s tummy, blushing more intensely. Leo smirked, “I think the babies love it too,” Marko’s heart fluttered. “Really?” he asked. Leo nodded, “kiss me and feel how much they kick!” he teased, though Marko didn’t need to be told twice. He laid a deep, tender smooch on the side of Leo’s 13 month pregnant tummy, and felt it up with his hands. A flurry of kicks and shifts from inside confirmed what Leo said. If Leo thought Marko kissed his belly a lot before, he had no idea what was to come. Marko got back to work putting on the sunscreen, but would pepper a patch of skin with kisses before running his hands over them. Leo gleefully enjoyed the worship as he continued demolishing his sub. Right as he was about halfway through it…

Creeeaaaakkkk… the bolts holding his chair together snapped under his weight, and he plopped onto the ground with a THUD. Marko looked at him, shocked, and asked “Oh my god are you okay? Are you hurt? Are the babies okay?” Leo assessed himself. The surprise was the worst part. His belly simply shifted slightly, and his marshmallowy ass softened the landing, though his brood of 24 was completely riled up inside, causing visible movement. “Yeah I’m okay! I just…” he looked at his dropped food on the ground, now covered in sand. “Aw, I was going to finish that…” he lamented. Marko raised an eyebrow, “so, you’re okay?” he asked. Leo nodded, staring at his lost meal. “Yeah, I’m just down like… half a sandwich,” he brushed his fluffy frown hair out of his face and winced, a slight ache from his landing starting to manifest. Marko sighed and smiled, “Well I packed like… four of those subs, hon. There’s plenty more,” 

Leo gasped, if he could physically have hearts for eyes, he would. “You know how to treat a guy!” he puckered his lips, prompting Marko to lean over and kiss him. He chuckled, “you might be good at tummy kisses, but THOSE are my favorite,” he said before returning to eating, now planted firmly on the ground, legs spread to make room for his gargantuan tummy. Marko simply smiled before returning to work, getting back to spreading the UV protecting lotion over his husband’s pregnant body.

Fast forward a couple of hours, and not only had Leo’s belly been thoroughly coated in sunscreen, and thoroughly filled with food, but he’d been thoroughly peppered in kisses and thoroughly complimented by his husband. It was a good day. Marko had enjoyed his half of the date too. Feeding, kissing, and otherwise pampering Leo was what he lived for, and doing it on the beach with sand under his feet and the waves splashing nearby just set the whole mood for him. He sat on the ground next to Leo, discussing life, love, and baby names, and generally having a lovely time.

“eeEEEP!” eeped Leo. “What’s wrong?” asked Marko, nearly jumping to his feet. “The cold water just touched my tummy, the tide has really rolled in,” said Leo. “I really wasn’t expecting it,” another wave washed up and lightly coated the front lower end of Leo’s tum in cold, briney seawater. “You wanna get up? We’ve been here for quite a while,” Leo nodded, “We’re out of food, I’m getting cold form the seawater, and frankly my pregnant ass could use a nap,” he said. Marko chuckled, taking Leo’s hands and using his considerable upper body strength to help him to his feet.

Leo’s belly rolled forward, shifting as he stood. His brood of two dozen riled up inside, and his hands shot to his belly. Marko knew what to do and started running his hands over the expanses of belly that Leo couldn’t reach, soothing their babies. After a moment, Marko gathered up their supplies while Leo began the considerable task of rotating his entire body 180 degrees. The two began the slow trek back to their vehicle, satisfied with the outing. It would be their last for a long, long while.

6 months later

“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s been a couple years since I’ve done this and I’m out of practice,” said Marko, looking over his selection of brushes. Leo lat in his custom hyper-pregnancy recliner, designed to support his increased weight and girth, his shirt rolled up as he pumped. “Yeah and I’ve seen what you’ve done before hon, my hopes are SKY HIGH knowing you,” Leo said with a bubbly smile. Marko chuckled, “I’ve also never had this sort of canvas before,” Leo laughed giddily, “It’s a canvas that’s required the cooperation of 38 people to make, 39 if you count me!”

Marko stood up, having to stand on his tiptoes to peer over Leo’s belly and H cup breasts. “I think you’re forgetting who put those 38 in there!” he teased. Leo blushed, switching bottles to store more milk. As he’d grown ever more pregnant, pushing past the duration of a normal pregnancy, his milk had come in in spades to feed their growing brood, so the poor pregnant man had to pump regularly, or risk leaking on his rather expensive maternity tops.

Marko grabbed a large, wide brush, and squeezed a heap of white paint onto his palette, with so much area to cover, this piece was going to need a LOT of paint if he hoped to really utilize his canvas. He dipped his brush in the paint, and began applying it to the front of Leo’s pregnant belly. Leo squirmed and giggled, his sensitive skin tickled by the wet bristles. His giggling picking up as the brush ran over his hypersensitive bellybutton, causing Marko to grin. “This is going to be a long process if you’re that ticklish,” he chuckled. He got down on his knees and continued painting the base layer down to some of the power front of Leo’s titanic tummy.

Leo contained himself, “You get pregnant and let me paint YOUR tummy and then you tell me I’m being too ticklish! That skin is sensitive!” he teased. Marko shook his head with a smirk, “Imagine me being pregnant…” he paused. Imagine… “You’d look cute with a bump,” complimented Leo. He turned off his pumps and took them off, though his breasts still leaked slightly. He set the milk aside and pulled his shirt down, covering his chest.

Marko switched paints to a light blue to start on a sky line, wanting to do a forest panorama, thinking about the prospect. “Preggo marko… I mean I’d look cute as fuck but I’d miss my figure,” Leo snorted, “But you’d have a new figure! Round, like me!” Marko considered waddling around, looking like his husband. It was only a hypothetical concept, but not an unwelcome one. He looked up to see his husband’s shirt growing damp. “Uh, honey…” Leo looked down at himself, “Aw shit!” he quickly yanked up his top and put his pumps back on, trying to contain the mess. Marko got back to painting, he had a lot of belly ahead of him…

As time pressed on, Leo’s bottles of milk continued to fill, and his belly continued to be covered in paint. Marko was an impressive artist, and his practice allowed him to work relatively fast. Still, with so much midriff to cover, it took a good few hours to do. Front and center of the tummy pictured a large, sprawling lake, framed by tall pine trees, with snowy mountains looming in the background. Mossy rocks peppered the foreground, and cute, brightly colored birds were lovingly left in trees. The whole scene was based off of a place Marko had gone to with his family, camping in washington state. The cool taiga campground had always stuck with him, and now it was brought home, plastered across his husband’s massive belly of all places.

Leo had fallen sleep, relaxed from the subtle sensations of marko’s brush along his tightly stretched belly. He’d sat still for hours for this, and just languished in becoming a work of art. It was his idea, to have his tummy painted, and while he’d snoozed through half of it, the whole thing had been a fun experiment. At least now he could say he’d been part of a body art piece! 

He woke to the sharp hiss of his husband swearing. Not loudly, but with passion. “Mmmmh, what’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Marko chuckled, “I was putting the finishing touches on this stump, and one of our kids kicked my brush, so now there’s a big brown blotch on it. That’s how it is when your canvas is alive I guess,” he shrugged, getting back to painting. Leo giggled to himself, “You could call it a happy little accident?” he snickered. Marko smiled and rolled his eyes sarcastically, “What? The paint blotch, or the kid who caused it?” he asked. “The blotch you goof! Only the first kid was an accident and the odds of THAT ONE kicking there are pretty slim!”

With one last stroke, he was done. He stood up and surveyed his work, the massive painting spanning the front hemisphere of Leo’s 38-full pregnant tummy. It was sprawling, and detailed, and beautiful, and he was quite pleased with it. “Man, I really did miss painting,” he said, mostly to himself. “Such a shame it’s all gonna get washed off here soon,” Leo pursed his lips in thought, “Maybe it’s an exercise in impermanence? Like… some bhuddist shit?”

Marko smiled, “Gimmie your phone, you goof. It has a better camera, and I want you to see this!” Leo smirked, and held out a small tube, produced from the table next to him. “You gotta sign your work first, silly!” Marko squinted at the tube, too short and wide to be a pen. “Is that… lipstick?” he asked. Leo nodded. “Sign it with a kiss! Like a love letter! Except that love letter is me!” Marko blushed, and sighed, and relented. “God you’re gay,” he chuckled. Leo cocked his head to the side and smiled, “For you,”

Marko blushed harder, and wordlessly navigated to the lower right corner of his masterpiece. He put on the lipstick, then got down on his hands and knees, leaned forward, and placed a deep, loving kiss on Leo’s belly, leaving a perfect smooch mark. Now it was Leo’s turn to blush. Marko got back up, and made bedroom eyes at his husband. “I have an idea of how we could kill our evening,” he said. Leo blushed harder now, “do tell?” he squeaked in anticipation. “I could kiss you until all of this lipstick wears off, then help you to the shower and wash all this paint off… then I could…” Leo beamed, “You could make me MORE pregnant!?” Marko bit his lip and ran his hand through his black undercut. “If you’d like to?” “I would LOVE to!” 

...And so they did.

5 months later

“Well, you’ve exceeded my expectations in quantity, but everyone in there is healthy as can be!” said Leo’s midwife, as she slowly ran the ultrasound wand over his expansive belly. Marko sat next to Leo, holding his hand tenderly. “I’m proud of my big man, he’s kept everyone so safe and healthy for two years at this point,” Leo squeezed his hand in response to the praise. The midwife’s eyes grew large. “You’re two years pregnant?” she asked. Leo nodded, “24 months today!” he chirped. The midwife nodded, “Explains why everyone is so big and strong...” she trailed off. “How many is ‘everyone’ by now?” Leo asked. The midwife stayed silent for a spell before answering. “I’ve been trying to figure that out… there are so many heartbeats my equipment cant differentiate between them all… my midrange estimation is… probably 50,” she finally landed. “Fifty!?” Marko and Leo exclaimed in unison. The medical professional nodded, “that’s not an exact number, but… there’s at least 48 guaranteed in there, and judging by the volume of the measurements I took, you have enough volume in your frankly amazing womb for 52, so I’d average it at 50,” she pulled back the wand and turned off her portable doppler.

Marko’s eyes sparkled at the news. How he’d managed to put fifty babies into his husband. Leo held his K cup tits in his hands, and for the first time wondered if he’d be able to feed them all. The midwife’s watch beeped and she hissed, “This is so unprofessional, but, Marko, can I leave the wiping off of ultrasound jelly to you? I have another appointment that I’m already late for!” she said. Marko nodded eagerly, “Sure thing Miss Thorne! I’ll take care of it!” Miss Thorne nodded and closed up her equipment. She walked around Leo’s belly and shook his hand. “If anything changes, you have my number. Just… please don’t call past 2 am,” she sighed. Leo gently met her handshake and smiled, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Miss Thorne nodded again and turned to leave, “Duty calls gentlemen, take care!” she said before closing the door behind her.

Marko leaned in and kissed Leo with reinvigorated passion. “Babe, we’re gonna be the dads of 50 babies!” he placed his hand on Leo’s tummy, feeling the near rock-hard firmness of it. “And I’ll be able to walk again!” said Leo, who had been too big to pass through standard doorways for the last 9 months. Marko stepped back and surveyed Leo, really taking in his size. The oblong mass of Leo’s tummy was, at this point, the tallest part of him, and the widest by a huge margin. He’d been well and truly immobile for a while now, the weight of his womb passing 450 lbs. It wasn’t all baby and amniotic fluid either, he’d put on a fair bit of baby weight thanks to his increased appetite.

He had subtle rolls on the side of his torso, and his hips had widened substantially to make room for his brood to pass through, though they were wrapped in their own lovely layer of pudge. His butt and thighs themselves were visibly wider, and even his arms were softer to the touch. His breasts were, in all honesty, enormous in their own right, each one comparable to a pregnant belly itself, but despite this, nothing drew peoples attention, and Marko’s attraction, more than that planetary belly. 

Hard to the touch, smooth, pale, shiny, and well and truly massive, Marko had compared it in his own mind to a small car. He definitely would fit inside with room to move around, that’s for sure. Marko USED to be the taller of the two, but with Leo’s belly bloated with presumably 50 babies, maybe more, he’d overtaken Marko’s height in a rather unorthodox way. The room was as dominated by midriff as Leos’ own body, and the pair had joked that they’d have to start knocking down walls if he got any more pregnant.

Marko grabbed a nearby towel and started working to wipe off the ample ultrasound jelly left on Leo’s exposed skin. He moved slowly and methodically, enjoying the belly while he could. He knew that the time would soon come for Leo to deliver, and their place would be bustling with newborns and nannies. He was excited to be a dad soon, but he would miss this. He felt Leo’s skin tense, and heard the poor man grunt in discomfort, and realized that maybe that time would come sooner than later.

“Should I call the doctor?” Marko asked, peeking around Leo’s gravidity to see him silently nodding. Leo’s contractions had been ever so slowly manifesting, and with his body readying itself for childbirth, the two knew it’d be best to have professionals on call sooner than later. Marko gently patted the side of Leo’s tightening belly, and pulled out his phone. It seems after two years, the time had come.

Three weeks later

Leo and Marko’s household had indeed become a bustling scene. After a successful, if very long, birthing process, they had welcomed all 50 healthy children into the world, 31 girls and 19 boys. Among the sea of singletons was three sets of identical twins, a set of triplets, and even a set of identical quadruplet boys. “They’re going to be a troublesome crew when they’re older,” Marko had joked. They took turns between sleeping, feeding, changing, and playing with their kids, making sure to spend time with all of them. Thankfully Leo’s body kept milk production to its max, so everyone stayed fed, but it took a crew of almost 20 nannies around the clock to keep everyone happy.

Still, the pair sat together, Leo breastfeeding and Marko bottle feeding two at a time each, falling into a rhythm of sorts. “Hey honey?” asked Marko. “Hmm?” replied Leo, a pair of three week old girls in his arms. “I’m proud of you,” Leo smiled, looking at his husband. “You helped me through it, it was a team effort,” he said. The couple sat in companionable silence, taking time to revel in how cute their kids were. Marko chuckled, “what?” asked Leo. Marko shook his head, “It’s stupid but… I’m just curious…” he paused. “Would you ever want to do this again?”

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Music

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to come to this thing with you. I mean seriously, when have I ever listened to anything besides classic rock?” Dean grumbled as he followed his brother to their seats in the large concert hall.

“Oh, quit bitching,” Sam whispered angrily. “It’s Eileen’s last concert before she goes on maternity leave and you promised her you would come see one of her performances. Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side right now. I told her to wait a minute before I got her juice and she made me sleep on the couch for three nights.”

Dean smirked as they took their seats. “She’s got you whipped man.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s mocking. “When you get married, you’ll understand.”

“Hardly,” Dean scoffed. “Last time I checked, guys can’t get pregnant, so I won’t have to worry about a pregnant partner with random food cravings. I mean seriously, jelly dipped grapefruit slices have to be one of the most disgusting food combos ever. Even I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Whatever. Like the saying goes, people do crazy things when they’re in love. You just wait,” Sam said with a grin.

Before Dean could argue, the lights dimmed and focused on the stage. Since Sam was Eileen’s husband, they had special front row seats for family only. Dean watched with little interest as the orchestra members walked onto the stage. He saw Eileen carrying her violin and gave her a thumbs up when she looked in his direction. Dean groaned inwardly as more and more people crowded onto the stage. He never fathomed an orchestra would be so big.

His eyes were lazily gazing around him, waiting for the concert to start when suddenly his attention was snagged. Leading a row of orchestra members was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. He had messy black hair that refused to be tamed. His face was square with high cheekbones and a strong jaw and Dean wanted to know what those lips felt like against his. He was tall, at least six foot with a lithe muscular build. Dean raked his eyes down the man’s body and nearly drooled at the thick thighs that were encased by the black dress pants he wore. Dean felt the breath leave his body as the man’s eyes quickly glanced at him before facing the front again. They were stunning blue sapphires that sparkled in the low light and Dean was already lost in their depths.

Dean refused to look away from the gorgeous man. He watched as the man settled in his chair before pulling a large stringed instrument towards him. Dean was mesmerized by the nimble fingers that ghosted over the strings, being careful to make a single noise. He stared as the man flipped through his music and imagined what those fingers would feel like trailing over his body. He shivered in anticipation.

Sam elbowed him lightly. “Dude, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed dryly. “Yeah, I’m good Sammy. I totally gotta get that guy’s number. Maybe Eileen could help a brother-in-law out.”

Sam looked to at the man that Dean was still staring at. He snorted before saying, “Good luck. That’s Castiel and according to Eileen, refuses to date anyone and everyone. He’s solely focused on his music and says he doesn’t have time for frivolous relationships.”

“Yeah, well he ain’t ever met me yet! I won’t be frivolous, hell, I’ll give him a hundred reasons to be with me if you know what I mean?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh, gross,” Sam huffed. “You can try, but I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when Cas turns you down.”

“Whatever bitch, just you wait and see. Cas is gonna be mine,” Dean argued.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get Cas to go on more than three dates with you,” Sam challenged.

“Deal! It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.” Dean smirked.

The men fell silent as the conductor held his hands up and the whole orchestra readied themselves. Dean jumped when the next sound was the loud bang of a drum. His eyes glued in on Cas and they never left. Dean hardly heard the music, his gaze so intent on the man in front of him.

They had gone through three songs and Dean couldn’t recall what a single one of them sounded like when Castiel suddenly stood up and moved towards the front of the stage. Dean’s gaze followed him like a hungry wolf stalking it’s prey.

“I would like to introduce our very own Castiel Novak. He will now perform a solo that he has written himself for the very first time. I know all of you will be blown away by his talent and skill.” The crowd applauded lightly as Castiel took a lone seat in front of the rest of the orchestra.

For the first time that night, Dean listened to the music being played. Cas’s fingers moved gracefully, making the instrument sing. The notes that echoed throughout the hall told a heart wrenching story. They described a man who was looking for love but had no idea how to find it. The tune was slow and melodic, and Dean was captured in its sad embrace. The minor chords resonated through the air and Dean felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Once the last eerie note had floated through the air, the crowd erupted into applause.

Dean jumped to his feet, his hands stinging with the force of his clapping. He watched as Castiel bowed deeply a few times before picking his instrument up and walking back to his original seat. He glanced at Dean again and flashed a small smile in his direction. Dean felt his heart beat faster at the minute gesture.

The rest of the concert was a blur as Dean only had eyes and ears for Castiel. When it was over and the orchestra stood for their final bows, Dean clapped along with everyone else. His eyes tracked Cas for as long as possible until the man walked out of sight off the stage. Dean sighed heavily, hoping he would get a chance to talk to him.

“So, what did you think?” Sam asked as they waited for Eileen.

Dean shrugged, “It was better than I thought it was going to be. Still prefer my classic rock but this wasn’t half bad.”

“Well, I’ll count that as a win in my book,” Sam said before walking around his brother and pulling his wife into a hug. “Congrats pumpkin, you did so good tonight! I’m so proud of you.”

Dean watched his brother and sister-in-law with fondness. Eileen was a perfect match for Sam in every way. After years of trying, they were finally pregnant and Dean couldn’t wait to meet his niece who was due in a few weeks. He pulled her in for a tight hug and congratulated her on a wonderful performance.

“Psh, you didn’t hear her. You were too focused on Castiel,” Sam interjected.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he glared at his brother. “Shut up bitch. I was not!”

Sam snorted. “Yeah you were. I bet you couldn’t even describe any of the music tonight besides his solo.”

“Well, I would love to hear him describe it,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them.

Dean spun around to find the gorgeous musician standing a few feet away. Up close, Castiel was even more gorgeous and Dean couldn’t suppress the small whimper that escaped his throat. He felt the blush staining his cheeks deepen. “Uh, hi,” Dean croaked.

Castiel’s lips spread in a small grin. “Hello. My name is Castiel. From what Eileen has told me, you are Dean.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Dean and the moose behind me is Sam,” Dean explained as he held his hand out.

Castiel’s palm was warm and smooth as he shook Dean’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dean. Would you please tell me what you thought of my solo? I heard that you prefer classic rock and I must say I’m curious as to what you thought about such a different genre of music.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, well, it was haunting and sad for one. I mean I had a tear rolling down my cheek by the end of it. I’m not usually a fan of slow songs but there’s no other tempo that song could have. And, um- I mean, well, I’m sorry that you haven’t found the person you’re looking for.”

Castiel tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Dean dropped his gaze, afraid he had said something wrong. “Well, the whole point of the song is about being lonely and how you want to find love but don’t know how, right? That’s why it was so dark and gloomy because you’re lost, and you don’t know how to find your way. Since the song ended on such a long eerie note, I’m assuming you haven’t found what you’re looking for and you’re calling out to anybody who will listen.”

It was silent and Dean finally looked up. Sam and Eileen were staring at him like he had grown a second head while Cas looked like he was close to tears. Dean felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wanted to ask the musician on a date but instead he had offended him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” Dean started to say.

“Stop,” Cas ordered as he stepped closer. He reached out and hovered his palm over Dean’s cheek. “You just described that song perfectly. Writing it was very difficult for me because of how much of myself I put into it. You’re right, I am lonely, and I wish I wasn’t but nobody has been able to alleviate that loneliness.”

Dean wanted to kick himself for his next words. “I thought you didn’t do relationships and were focused on your music.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth quirked up. “That’s what I tell people to try and hide how I truly feel. Besides, no person I’ve ever met has been able to describe my music the way you just did. I would be honored if you would go on a date with me.”

Dean’s eyes were saucers as he stared in shock at the man in front of him. “Are you serious?” Castiel nodded. Dean shifted his head, so Cas’ palm rested lightly against his cheek. “I’m free now.”

Cas’ face split into a large gummy smile. “Let me go grab my things and then I will be right back.”

Dean watched him walk off before turning to Sam and Eileen. He smirked at his brother as he said, “There’s one date. Three more and you owe me a hundred bucks.”

Eileen gasped. “You guys are betting on Cas!”

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dean fell heads over heels the moment he saw Cas, but I told him he’d never have a chance. I bet him a hundred bucks if he could get Cas to go on more than three dates with him.”

“Trust me, I’m not messing with Cas. I really want to get to know him, money or no money,” Dean said hastily, wanting to stay on Eileen’s good side.

She eyed him warily and warned him not to hurt Cas but otherwise wished them the best of luck. She never had to worry because Dean treated Cas like he hung the moon. He did, in fact, end up going on more than three dates with Cas. It was a whirlwind kind of romance and two years later they were married. At their wedding, Cas played a brand-new song for Dean.

Dean was in tears by the end of it because this song was different than the first solo he heard from Cas. This song wasn’t sad and dark but light and jovial. This song was about a man who had been searching for love and had finally found it. It told the story of an epic romance that was just beginning.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

[mrs-geuse]

Empty (Hank Anderson x Reader)

This one is purely a twist of a page from my own diary.

I’ve had some requests for pregnant!reader and Hank and...I just can’t do that right now. My husband and I have been struggling with infertility for a year and a close friend just announced her pregnancy today, my niece was born 3 weeks ago...it’s been emotional for me.

This is purely a therapeutic attempt at getting through this for me and I’m sorry if it disappoints.

Warnings: Infertility, mentions of alcoholism, mental health struggles, and (a history of) self-harm.

Hank hears a slam from somewhere in the house and he’s instantly peeking around the corner, down the hall, warm pizza long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N? You alright?” he calls. No response. “Y/N?” His mind is instantly working quickly, running through possibility after possibility of the worst shit.

You’d been going through it lately, your mental health at an all-time low for the last few months. It drove you to do some crazy shit and he was always there to pick up your pieces. He worried you’d resort to some of those old coping habits he knew you had. You’d told him you hadn’t done that in years, but it was still a very real possibility to him and it kept him up at night, the image of you bleeding out.

Tonight, he thought you were doing better. You’d been working on getting answers for what was bothering you…you’d spent a lot of time working through things together and – though the touchy-feely stuff was a little hard for Hank to vocalize – you were in a better place than you’d been in, well, ever.

“I’m fine,” you finally call to him, but he can hear in your voice that you’re so not fine.

“Sweetheart, come on, what is it?”

He peers into the bedroom, sees your phone face-down on the nightstand, your body on the bed, back to the headboard, knees pressed against your chest.

“It happened again,” you start, voice breaking a little bit. This could be one of two things, he knows.

Either another friend is pregnant or your period showed up.

Hank knows it’s not the latter, based on the positive ovulation test on the sink, the fact that you’ve been all over him for the last few days…

"Fuck, sweetheart…”

You shake your head, shake it off, try to take a breath.

“I feel like such an asshole, yanno? I’m happy for her, I really am, but I’m so fucking tired of it not being us. It’s been a year, Hank, a fucking year…”

He knows this, is very aware. He knows because you’ve been to the specialist, done the ten vials of bloodwork, the ultrasound up the cooch, the follow-up. Hell, he’d even done the jizz-in-a-cup thing just because he knew how much this broke you that you weren’t a mom yet.

He can remember the anxiety for those results, remember what it felt like to think it was him. He’d been convinced it was him. Hank hadn’t really thought about having another kid after Cole…and then he met you. Young, you, and that almost scared him off – the knowing that you were gonna want kids.

Hank was a drinker, for years, still is – only now he has someone to hold him through the night and that makes the drinking a little less necessary, makes life a little more bearable.

Only the results showed that his swimmers were still good. And your results showed that your stuff was all good…so, what the fuck?

He remembers holding your hand in that office as the doctor told you news, remembers your sleepless nights up filled with guilt, for whatever reason. If there was something wrong, it was nothing to feel guilty for, yet he couldn’t talk you down from that.

The doctor rambled about how some healthy couples can try for a year with no success, have nothing wrong with them…twenty percent. Twenty-fucking-percent of couples and apparently you fell right into that group.

The agony this caused you, on top of everything else you’d been through. That year consisted of monthly breakdowns in the bathroom when the bleeding started. You’d been through your share of symptom-checking, so convinced you’d been pregnant that month – you’re not normally queasy, you’re not normally late – yet Aunt Flo always reared her stupid, fucking head and each month he’d have to hold his girl and reassure you that eventually you’ll be carrying a child, things would work out…

Hell, there were months you both went sober – just in case that might help. Only it didn’t, it only made the both of you more anxious, made the constant sex almost a chore, drove you both into arguments and bullshit…

It was only recently that you sat at that kitchen table wearing his police shirt, going on about how you needed to live a little, how you needed to learn to let time do its thing. In theory? Great idea! In practice? There were so many fucking roadblocks to that happiness.

Including when your friends post on social media that – surprise! – they’re expecting!

It’s always like a gut-punch, always feels like falling and anger and guilt and ‘how-dare-I-feel-this-way-it’s-not-their-fault’ yet each month you watch them update with pictures of pregnant bellies and then eventually they post that the baby has arrived. Not to mention the monthly updates from everyone about what their little bundle is into and what things they can do and milestones reached, first steps, first words, pregnancy announcement number two…

You’d been through it all and honestly Hank just wished you’d quit the social media bullshit, cut it out, and focus on the two of you and Sumo.

And then your brother’s wife got pregnant at month one and, fuck, did that send you spiraling. Day drinking, driving drunk, crying all the time. Hank didn’t know if you’d ever get out of the funk.

Yet somehow you did. You were so damn strong, he was excited for that piece of you to grow with a baby, couldn’t wait to see what that child could become, hoped it took more of your traits and none of his.

At first, he was tentative about a child. After Cole, he couldn’t imagine the amount of anxiety he would have. But he knew how much you wanted it, how excited you were every time you went down the baby aisle at the store…

Now all you do is cry, avoid that aisle, look away.

You’d gotten through your sister-in-law’s baby shower just fine and now that the baby’s here and you’re seeing your parents step up as first-time grandparents…that hurt is real and raw.

And it’s not their fault, you know that, and you don’t hold resentment. You do avoid, though. Avoid calling, avoid social gatherings with the family. The shame you feel for not being a mom is something Hank can’t understand as a man, he just can’t. You told him once that it makes you feel like less of a woman and that shook him to the fucking core.

What kind of society puts this kind of pressure on the ‘natural progression of life’? How many people had asked about her getting pregnant, making assumptions that you weren’t trying, that you weren’t having issues.

“How did you let your sister-in-law get pregnant before you? You and Hank have been married longer, he’s old!” -the words of an actual family-friend. What a mess. How fucking painful for you to go through. He remembers that night vividly, remembers you walking him out because he was about to fight someone, remembers the way your tears looked as you paced in the parking lot, wondered how you were gonna go in and face everyone.

People suck, that’s for sure, and this is no different. People don’t understand and no one talks about infertility, you’re realizing. No one talks about the shame of it, the pain, the emotional devastation, what it fucking does to a happy marriage…

The two of you have come through stronger and you’re on a more positive, upbeat path but you still have your down days and Hank is very aware that you haven’t had one in about three weeks…

“Maybe we should start the adoption process,” you mumble with a sigh as he sits beside you, the bed dipping under his weight.

Only he knows you, he knows that you want to carry a baby, knows that there are options…like adopting an embryo…you’d researched your heart out. Researched about proper positions, different tricks, supplements, spent so much money on ovulation kits and doctor visits and pregnancy tests…

“I’m for it if that’s what you want, if you’re ready for that…” he rubs your shoulder.

You sigh, bury your face in his chest.

“I’m just so tired of waiting. I’m so tired of trying and getting hopeful and then bleeding. I’m tired of hearing from my parents that it’ll happen. I sort of wish something was wrong because then we could intervene. But now, what, we wait longer? It’s just bad luck? I’m fucking done with being told to wait and be patient, and that I’m too stressed. I’m pissed that people can have unhealthy habits or try for a month and get pregnant no issue while we have been doing our best to be better and this has been a full fucking year. Hank, we could have a three-month-old right now…right now! Holding a three-month-old. What the fuck?” you let a few tears slip by.

“I’m right here with you. I’ve seen how hard this has been on you. You’re stronger than anyone I know, baby.” He kisses your temple, rubs up and down your back. “You’re gonna be a great mom. And it’s gonna happen. No matter what I have to do, I’m gonna make you a mom.”

He doesn’t care how much money it’s going to cost; he needs to see you happy again. He misses it. You were so full of life once, you’re like a wilted flower now.

“You’ve been great with all this, Hank. Thank you.” You kiss him, lean into it more and Hank feels that spark, feels his arousal start up again.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “I know what you want,” his fingers dance across your neck. “How ‘bout we eat some pizza,” he kisses you, “and then,” another kiss, “we come back in here,” a kiss to your neck, “bring the whipped cream,” you smirk at that, “and enjoy each other.”

You hum. “That sounds so good right now, Hank…”

He nods. “Gonna run me dry by the end of this week,” he stands with you to head to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, big man.” You smack him on the ass.

So maybe your life isn’t perfect, but it’s yours.

[robinskey]

Don’t Touch My Family

Request: Would you be willing to make an imagine of dad!billy were after graduation u nd billy leave town bc u get pregnant w/out telling anybody but after a few years u have a son & daughter Neil finds out n come by the house hella pissed while billy isnt home, tries to hurt u nd the kids but billy comes home n just beats the hell out him for trying to hurt his family? just the thought of billy goin after the only person hes terrified of for HIS family makes him THE father he never had makes me melt ❤

A/N: This is a little bit darker than my typical fluffy sunshine fanfic, but I really liked the request, so I decided to do it anyway. :) Sorry if you wanted something shorter, anon-this turned into more of a drabble/one-shot than an imagine. Thanks for requesting!

Warnings: Teenage pregnancy, descriptions of violence, implied abuse, language

You find out you’re pregnant halfway through the last semester of senior year. 

When you tell Billy, you expect him to freak out. He doesn’t, though-at least, not on the outside. On the inside, he’s absolutely panicking. But he can see how upset you are, so he just pulls you close. He whispers into your hair that he’ll support you in whatever you want to do.

After a few days of contemplation, decide you want to have the baby. You and Billy agree that it’s best to keep your pregnancy a secret-for now, at least. If your parents found out, your father would probably actually fire that shotgun he’s always threatening to use on “that deadbeat boyfriend of yours.”

And Billy...well, he has no idea how his father would react. But he has no intentions of finding out.

Thus, Billy offers to run away with you right there on the spot. However, you ultimately decide that it would be better to finish high school. Maybe you'll even be able to save up a little bit of money before the two of you start a new life together.

So, for the next few months, you wear baggy clothes to hide your growing midsection. Billy picks you up for “dates” that are actually doctor’s appointments. Thanks to your valiant efforts, no one suspects a thing.

Eventually, graduation rolls around. Your family hosts a small get-together after the ceremony. Distant relatives congratulate you on your achievements and ask if you’re excited to start this “new chapter in your life.” You smile and nod.

You have no idea.

Later that night, you stuff everything you can fit into a small tote bag. You leave an apology note to your parents on the kitchen counter and sneak out of your house.

Billy’s waiting for you outside in the Camaro. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead and holds the door open as you climb into the passenger seat. As he drives away, you watch your childhood home shrink into the distance, saying a silent goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known.

***

Five years later, you and Billy share a two-bedroom house on the West Coast. You have two kids-a son and a daughter. Billy works as a mechanic at an auto repair shop, while you write for the local newspaper. Neither of you make much money, but it doesn’t matter. You’re both happy-genuinely happy-for the first time in your lives.

Billy gets home around 5:30 every day, so, when the doorbell rings at 5:15, you figure he just got off early.

“I’m coming, honey!” you yell, bouncing your infant daughter on your hip.

But when you peek into the peephole, you discover not your husband standing on your doorstep but a scruffy older man in tattered clothing. His face is scrunched up, and he squints in the sun. You freeze, clutching your baby to your chest.

Neil Hargrove is standing on your porch.

“I know someone’s home. I heard you,” he barks. “Come on. Open up. I just want to talk.”

He raises a dirty fist and raps on the wood. The noise scares your daughter, who starts to whimper. You’re too busy shushing her to notice your son appear at your side.

“Mama, who’s that?”

You clamp a hand over his mouth and suck in your breath. Maybe, if you’re quiet enough, you can cancel out the noise made by your clueless four-year-old.

“Is that my grandson?”

For a split second, his volume dips below its typical scream-level. It’s the most gentle you’ve ever heard him speak.

But then he has to ruin it by pounding once more on the door.

“Come on, you coward, open the damn door!” He rattles the doorknob so violently that you think it might fall off.

This time, you can’t prevent your daughter from letting out a wail. Beside you, your son sniffles.

You muster every last fiber of courage in your being. “Get the hell out of here, Neil,” you growl, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“Y/N? Is that you?” he asks. There’s a soft thud, almost like he’s just leaned his forehead against the wood.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought it was Billy in there,” Neil says.

“Billy-Billy is here,” you stutter.

“No, he’s not. I don’t see the Camaro anywhere, and I know my son takes that damn car everywhere,” Neil says.

Your son wraps his arms around your calf and clings to it. You hope he isn’t able to absorb the panic pulsing through every part of your body

“I’m warning you, Neil, to walk out of here while you still can. I…” 

You scan the messy living room, littered with toys. Your gaze falls on a plastic pistol laying on the sofa.

“I have a gun. And I’m not afraid to use it,” you threaten.

The wall between you slightly muffles his ominous chuckle, but it still reaches your ears.

“I’m sure you do, sweetie. But there’s no need to get violent on an old man who just wants to see his grandkids. Why don’t you just open the door, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you just go to hell, Neil?” 

The silence drags on long enough for you to almost convince yourself that he’s walked away.

Almost.

And then, just loud enough for it to be audible: “If that’s how you want to play it.”

You jump out of the way as the door falls inward with a thud.

Neil Hargrove slowly lowers the foot he used to kick it down, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes.

You push your son behind you, wrap your arms tighter around your daughter, and take cautious steps backwards.

“Did you really think you could hide from me forever?” he asks. He advances deeper into your home-your sanctuary-with every word.

“What do you want from me?” you demand. Your backside collides with a wall; Neil’s backed you into a corner.

“I just want what you and my son stole from me by skipping town five years ago,” Neil says. “A chance to connect with my family.”

He draws close enough that you can count every crater left by untreated acne on his creased face and smell the stale whiskey on his breath. “I knew you had one child,” he says, peeking around you at the little boy cowering in the corner, “but two? What a pleasant surprise. This little one-let me see her face.”

Neil extends a wrinkled hand to peel back the blanket covering the baby. You’re too stunned to react until his filthy finger is only inches from her face. That’s when you raise a knee and jam it into his groin. He doubles over with a grunt.

“Go!” You practically shove your son into his room and set the baby next to him. Then, a hand wraps around your ponytail, yanking you backwards. Tears stream down your face as you scream at your kids to shut the door and lock it. There’s a slam and a click, then the word “bitch” yelled into your ear. Neil spits into your ear canal as he calls you every name in the book. You claw and kick and punch, but Neil’s got a death grip on your hair. He drags you across the living room floor, promising that he’s “going to make you pay.” He finally tosses you onto the couch. Your back aches as the barrel of the fake gun juts into your spinal cord.

Between your shrieks and Neil’s name-calling, you don’t hear the roar of the engine as the Camaro pulls onto your street, nor the squeal of the brakes as Billy pulls up next to the beat-up pick-up truck he’d recognize anywhere. You don’t hear your husband’s thundering footsteps as he sprints up the sidewalk. No, you don’t notice any of that; you’re too preoccupied flailing around as Neil tries to pin you to the sofa. 

But even though you don’t see him, Billy appears in the doorway, still wearing his navy mechanic jumpsuit. He’s covered in grease stains and flushed skin. And, for the first time in his life, he raises his voice at his father without an inkling of fear of the consequences.

“Get your hands off my wife!”

He charges at his father, who’s caught completely off-guard. The two of them crash onto the coffee table, snapping it in two. They only wrestle for a minute before Billy comes out on top. He raises his fist and brings it down on his father’s face until it’s nothing more than a bloody pulp. Billy continues landing blows long after Neil passes out. And, while Neil Hargrove certainly deserves it, you’d rather not have Billy kill someone in your house with your kids in the literal next room. So, eventually, you walk up to your scratched-up, bruised husband and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Baby,” you say softly. 

He gazes up at you, the pain and torment of eighteen years of abuse bubbling to the surface once again. Once his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He raises himself to his feet and pulls you into a tight embrace. He squeezes you so tightly that you wince, sore from Neil throwing you around like a ragdoll. Billy apologizes profusely and holds you out at arm’s length. His eyes flicker over your features.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” you say honestly. Your hands are shaking profusely, your heart rate is still elevated well above normal levels, and you’re pretty sure you’ll have nightmares about this encounter for the rest of your life. 

“Did he hurt you?”

“A little. But it could have been so much worse, if you hadn’t…” 

A single tear trails down your cheek. Billy wipes it away with his thumb.

“You don’t have to go there, Y/N. Don’t go there,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “You’re right. We’re safe now-me, the kids-”

“The kids!” you both exclaim at the same time. You run to their bedroom and knock on the door. It swings open, and two small children stare up at you. They both burst into tears, and you and Billy gather them into your arms.

The police arrive a few minutes later, just as Neil starts to regain consciousness. (Having nosy neighbors pays off when you need someone to call 9-1-1 without being asked.) As the officers escort Neil out of the house in handcuffs, Billy warns him to never come near his family again.

And for the first time in his life, his father actually listens.

Taglist: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny  @sweetboibilly @scarrasco1325  @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. <3

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (12/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I’m sorry for the wonky formatting. I’m on vacation and can’t sleep and am doing this off of my phone. I thought it would be easier, but Tumblr can be dumb sometimes. I hope you enjoy regardless 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 

-/-

-/-

“Killian, I’m really not sure if this is a good idea,” Emma whispers as they move forward in line, his fingers intertwined with hers as he tugs her forward to stand next to him so they don’t get lost in the crowd.

“Darling, I know you’re not big on the touristy activities, but we have to do it for Henry’s list.”

She tugs on his hand again, and he twists to the side to look down at her. He can’t see her eyes because of her sunglasses, the black frames covering the green, but he can see that her lips are pressed together in a firm line while her cheeks flush in a way that he knows has nothing to do with her blush.

“I mean the eye, babe. I don’t…I know it goes slowly, but I’m really worried that I’m going to throw up because of the movement.”

Oh.

He didn’t even think about that. He should have thought about it, but this is all still kind of new to him. It’s only been three days since they suspected Emma was pregnant, two since they’ve known officially, and they haven’t had much time to revel in it and celebrate with them constantly being around Liam, Belle, and Henry. It’s a bit ridiculous, really. Every time he gets Emma in a private corner simply to kiss her and tell her how goddamn happy he is that she’s in his life and is carrying their child, someone interrupts them.

Hiding Emma’s sickness is the most difficult thing, but trying to find some private time simply so they can talk is beginning to be even more difficult.

It’s likely a close tie.

He cannot believe he’s going to be a father.

Again.

He’s learning that it’s an odd disconnect, one that he’s struggling to understand, one that he really wants to talk to Emma about. Henry is his, undoubtedly. He loves that kid more than life itself. It hurts sometimes, physically aches, for him to think about his son and the light that he brings him after a life that has not necessarily been easy. He’s gotten to be a father to a little lad who he never thought would be such a major part in his life, and for someone whose greatest father figure was his brother and not his actual father, that’s not a responsibility he’s taken lightly.

He owes it to Emma and Henry, and even Liam and Neal, to be the man his father never was. Brennan was a fucked up man, but he helped shape Killian, whether he likes it or not.

But this is – this baby…she’s different. He’s got no clue if the baby is a boy or a girl, but he’s been calling her a girl in his head simply because it’s easier that way than dancing around pronouns and weird terms. She’s his little lady bug, and if she turns out to be a he, he’ll still be his bug. He doesn’t really have the words to describe how he’s feeling, and he likes to think of himself as a verbose man. It’s odd because he knows all of the science behind pregnancy and childbirth (Emma is a wonder woman), but he never could have imagined feeling how he feels. He didn’t always want children, his fear of being his father overwhelming him. It wasn’t something that he actively thought about, but then there was Milah and his love for her. They never got to that kind of future before things fell apart, but he realized that with the right partner, sometimes things shift and change.

And then he met Emma.

He met Emma, and even though they don’t have a traditional or straightforward relationship, she has changed absolutely everything in his life.

Now they’re having this child together, this child who he gets to be around from the beginning, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved Emma more.

It’s not a second chance. No, that would be…wrong. It’s more like an old experience framed in a new light. There are similarities and differences, but everything is just as wonderful.

Except for Emma’s morning sickness, which seems to happen all day.

“If you don’t want to go, love, we can let Liam and Belle take Henry up there. They can tell him all about everything. They likely know it better than I do since it’s been so long since I’ve lived anywhere remotely near here.”

“Let’s,” she gulps, her cheeks puffing up for a moment, “ask Henry if he’d be okay for us to sit in the park while they go. I don’t think it’ll really mess with me since it’s not so much motion but…height. I’m not really sure. I just feel nauseous all the damn time.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he tells her as he dips his head down and kisses her temple. “Liam,” he calls, reaching forward to grab his brother’s shoulder while Belle entertains Henry as he shows her the same toy ninja turtle that he’s been showing her for the entire trip.

“Yeah?”

“I think Emma and I are going to go sit down while you all ride, okay? She’s still not feeling well, and the height may make it worse.”

Liam’s brows furrow together, the lines on his face all concentrating in the center of his forehead, as his lips only slightly turn up into a sympathetic smile. “You okay, lass?”

“I’m fine,” Emma promises, even though he knows she’s lying. “You don’t mind taking Henry with you without us?”

“I don’t mind at all. I promise to point out everything that interests him. Henry,” Liam calls, and Henry stops talking to Belle as they both turn around to look at everyone, “your mum is still feeling a bit sick, so are you okay going on the ride with just me and Belle?”

Henry shrugs, holding up his ninja turtle doll. “Can I still take Leonardo?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m good. Bye Momma.”

“Well don’t I feel special,” Emma laughs as she squats down to kiss Henry’s cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“Okay. Can we get something to eat when we come back down? Being in the air makes me hungry.”

Well that’s a new one.

“Yeah, kid, we can.”

He guides Emma over to the Jubilee Gardens. It’s crowded as any tourist attraction will be, but he manages to find them a place to sit in the shade under a canopy of trees, the August sun not shining nearly as brightly. They don’t have a sweater or blanket to spread out like most of the other people here, so he lays down on his back, hands crossed under his head, and let’s Emma rest her head on his stomach as she looks back over at the London Eye as if she can see Henry go up in the carriages.

“Still feeling sick?” he asks her as he moves his hands from behind his head so that he can mess with her hair, running his fingers through the strands of her hair while she closes her eyes, lashes landing against her freckle covered cheeks.

She’s so beautiful.

“Yeah, this kid of yours is going to be a killer. I can tell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s great. Killian, this is a good thing. It’s what we wanted, and as much as I wish we could, we can’t change biology.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, working out a particularly nasty knot, “that’d be nice. I wish I could make it easier for you, especially since you’re having such a rough time right now. I mean, we can’t even tell anyone right now.”

“I’m kind of okay with that. It’s like our own little secret. It’s only us who know, and I don’t know – I like it. I like sharing something with you. I like not being bombarded with everything because you know the moment we tell everyone, they’ll never leave us alone. My mom, Marg David – ”

“Liam and Belle.”

“They’ll all go insane. Hell, even Ruby at work will be crazy.”

“Aye,” he laughs, beginning to twist her hair into a braid. “I imagine it’ll be quite the ordeal. Do you think Henry will take it well?”

“I don’t know. He’s been an only child for awhile, but he’s a good kid. I think he might be excited until he goes through the jealousy phase or whatever. We’ll have to make sure to look out for that.”

He hums in agreement and looks twists his head to the right to work out some of the kinks in his neck. There are people everywhere, conversations happening and laughter filling the air as much as the sounds of birds chirping, and he wonders how many of the people here are actually from London and how many are tourists. It doesn’t matter in the slightest, but it’s something he’s been noticing the past few days as his accent becomes heavier than it has been in years. He’s home, even if his home is both Brighton and Portland, and he finds a sense of comfort in all of this.

There’s a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looks to see two men arguing, their hands quickly moving around as they talk. They’re both in tailored suits similar to what he wears to work, but he can tell that one of the men is uncomfortable in it. There’s something oddly familiar about the man whose back is facing him, and when he turns to the side, Killian’s stomach drops at the similar profile. He looks just like Neal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Neal is dead, and this is simply another man who shares his profile. It’s not as if there aren’t a lot of dark-headed men out there.

“You okay, babe?” Emma asks, twisting her head on his stomach to look up at him. “You just went silent.”

“I’m fine,” he promises, flashing her a smile and shaking his head from the sense of deja vu that just happened. “I was simply thinking about you and our little bug. I can’t even express how unbelievably happy that I am.”

Emma’s lips tug up into a grin, her eyes radiating softness. “I can’t either. I – ” Her eyes go wide, and she has to cover her mouth. “Oh shit. I’ve got to vomit.”

-/-

-/-

“You really don’t have to take that long to wrap presents,” Liam laughs, sitting down on the window seat while Killian carefully folds the wrapping paper into small corners so that Emma’s new yoga pants are all wrapped up.

“I like things a certain way,” he protests, placing a piece of tape on the package. “Emma uses far too much tape when she wraps things, so unless the presents are for me, and sometimes not even then, I wrap our gifts.”

“It also makes it easy for you to know if Henry has unwrapped them, aye?”

He chuckles at that, twisting his head to look at his brother so that he can smile at him. He doesn’t have that many more presents to wrap today, but he does still need to put ribbons on them. “He usually shakes them, which is not a good thing when there’s something breakable.”

“He sounds like a kid.”

“That he is.” He reaches down and picks up a box from the floor, quickly opening it to see that it’s a few pairs of shoes for Ada that are far too big for her now. He rather likes the little sneakers with the lady bugs on them, but he doesn’t want to imagine her running around in them yet. She’s just about to start crawling. He can’t think about running. “Do you and Belle ever think about it anymore? I know it’s an awkward subject but – ”

“But we talk,” Liam finishes for him, getting up from the seat and walking toward the wrapped packages, stringing out the ribbon. “I’m fine with you asking me. It’s a bit of a sensitive subject for Belle because we tried for so long and nothing happened. It’s been…heartbreaking, but we’ve been looking into adopting, not as some kind of consolation. We just…we want to be parents.”

His heart breaks and soars all at once, the mixture of emotions like a tennis ball being hit back and forth over the clay covered courts of Roland Garros. He knows of all of the sorrow and emotions that Liam and Belle have been through in trying to have a kid. It was something his brother kept private until he confessed it one night when Killian was talking about the struggles he and Emma were having, and in a bit of a melancholy way, it’s bonded them more.

In truth, a hell of a lot of their bonding has occurred because of situations that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

“That’s bloody wonderful,” he sighs, a happy smile on his face as he watches Liam tie a ribbon around a package. “How is it going?”

“Well. We have a – there’s a young lad, Caleb. He’s about two, and Belle is absolutely besotted with him. I am too, but Belle is terrified to talk about it for fear of something falling through. We have a few more meetings about it in January.”

He stops wrapping the shoes and takes a step toward his brother, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding on as tightly as he possibly can. He only gets his brother here, in person, for two more days, and he wants to savor these moments. He wants to savor getting to have every person he loves in one place. He wants to savor celebrating and comforting his brother in the steps of life that he’s taking.

“I am so damn happy for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Liam murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down Killian’s back. “I am too. I want to be this boy’s father so badly. I want Belle to get to be the mum she deserves to be. I…want.”

He understands that completely. He understands every bit of it, every word. And when he pulls back, he can see all of the understanding in Liam’s eyes too, especially when he squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s not the same because of the age difference, but when it’s right for you guys, you could likely talk to Emma. She was adopted. She understands what it’s like to be the kid on the other side of it. Or you could talk to Ruth.”

“I could also talk to you.”

He quirks his brow and sits down on the bed, all of the presents shifting with him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Henry’s father, but you haven’t always been. You took him on when he was about Caleb’s age. You know what it’s like.”

“Henry is different,” he sighs, shaking his head back and forth while he tries to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. “It’s…I had Emma. Emma knew all of the ropes, had given Henry a fantastic life, and I came in when it was easier. What you’re doing is different.”

“In a way, but I think we’re both men who are trying to be fathers to kids who had their fathers taken from them. It doesn’t make us more honorable or better, but it is a different challenge.”

“Aye,” he agrees, looking up at Liam. He looks startlingly like their father, but he never has those dark memories when he looks at them. “Though we have bloody wonderful women who do everything much better than us.”

“Well, at least Emma with you, but that’s not too hard.” “Shut up, you wanker,” he chuckles, getting up from the bed. “Here we are having a nice moment and you have to ruin it.”

“What else are older brothers for?”

“A hell of a lot more than that.”

“Daddy,” Henry whines from outside the door, his little voice muffled because of the wood, “are you finished wrapping presents yet?”

“No, my boy,” he chuckles, waggling his brows across his forehead at Liam who has an absolute smirk on his face, “I’m not. What are you doing outside the door?”

“Waiting for presents.”

“You get to open them tomorrow.” “That is too long,” he groans, and Killian has to contain the belly laugh that is threatening to escape him. Henry can be patient but not when it comes to Santa getting to come and opening presents. It’s all far too exciting for him to contain himself.

He glances at Liam once more before walking toward the bedroom door and unlocking it, quickly opening the door as that Henry falls back with it, his arms barely stopping his head from hitting the ground. It wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but Henry’s laugh is worth it.

“Where is your mum?” he asks, lifting Henry up from the ground and practically dragging him away from the door. “Isn’t she supposed to be keeping you entertained?”

“She’s changing Ada’s diaper, and it smelled like fish.”

“Oi,” he grunts, using the muscles in his arms to throw Henry over his shoulder. He’s almost too big for this now. “It did not. You only say this because you don’t like fish.”

“I like the ones like Nemo. The others smell.”

“Mackerel doesn’t smell when I cook it.”

“Yes it does.”

“Liam,” he calls, swinging Henry around as he moves to the staircase, his brother coming into view from the bedroom, “do you like eating mackerel?”

“Every morning for breakfast so I don’t get scurvy.”

“Ewww,” Henry groans, squirming even though Killian now knows that Henry is seriously considering eating fish since Liam does it. “That’s gross.”

“It’s yummy.”

Henry continues to protest, and even though his bony limbs are hitting Killian, he carries him down the stairs and turns right into the kitchen where Emma and Belle are chatting while the gentle hum of Christmas carols play in the background. There are a few discarded ingredients for the breakfast they’re serving for everyone in the morning, a grilled cheese on the stove instead, and he makes the assumption that Emma must have gotten hungry now. Or that they’re waiting for he and Liam to come help cook.

“Hello, beautiful ladies,” he greets as he walks in with Henry. Emma rolls her eyes. Belle blushes. It’s all as usual. “I have found someone trying to sneak his way into looking at presents before tomorrow.”

Emma whistles low under her breath, the smallest of smirks forming at her lips. “Oh no, babe. Do you know what happens when people try to find out what their presents are early?”

“I do not,” he sing-songs, plopping Henry down on the floor next to Ada’s playmat.

“They have to eat fish for dinner.”

Henry squeals at the same time that he and Liam bark out nearly identical laughs, the room suddenly a loud mess of him, and he watches as Emma winks before turning back to the stove and moving her grilled cheese off of the pan. The cunning lass obviously heard their talk. She’s always been the greatest at thinking on her feet when it comes to Henry, whether it be trying to explain something in a way that he understands or simply doing something funny to make him laugh. Once she managed to explain not wasting water by comparing it to Henry’s baseball games, and he’s still never quite figured out that one. Or at least, how she made the comparison. But Henry doesn’t waste water now.

Bloody miracle worker, the woman.

“I promise I won’t look. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Belle laughs, reaching over the counter and taking Henry’s hand in hers. “Santa knows that you’re a good boy.”

“What’s all this screaming?” Neal questions as he walks in the room, his voice filled with laughter even though the jovial feeling in the air dies a little in his presence. It’s not his fault. He’s an outsider looking in no matter how comfortable they try to make him. It’ll get better for him when Liam and Belle go home, but he thinks that Neal’s been stepping back a bit to give them all some time this week. It’s nice, but he doesn’t have to step back. This is his family too.

“I have to eat fish if I look at my presents early.”

“I’d say don’t look at your presents early then,” Neal laughs, pulling out the barstool next to Henry and sitting down. “Ems, what time is your family coming over?”

“Tonight? At six.”

He watches as Emma cuts her grilled cheese into four slices, popping one in her mouth and sliding the plate to Henry, letting him eat the meal she very obviously was preparing for herself but is instead giving to Henry. While she’s chewing her food, she squats down and picks Ada up from her play mat, blowing a loud kiss into Ada’s cheek that causes Ada to scream out a giggle. He doesn’t know how he ever stepped back from her, from this. He remembers life before Emma, remembers how everything was, but he doesn’t really want to remember a world where he didn’t love her. Where she didn’t love him.

He doesn’t want to remember a world where she isn’t the center of his life.

Maybe it’s the joyous atmosphere in the room that’s making him think about all of this. Maybe it’s that Neal is now talking to Henry and making him laugh while Henry eats his good, Belle and Liam joining in on their conversation. Maybe it’s that everything finally feels right.

He’s not sure if he’s ever loved Emma more than he does right now. He’s thought it before, said it before, and he’s sure he’ll say it again.

Every time it is said, it’s meant.

He’s infinitely glad that they’re getting things right again, that they’re trying again. He doesn’t know what he would do without Emma.

“You look like you’re thinking,” Emma mumbles as she walks over to him, handing him Ada when she stretches her chubby hands toward him, her fingers already trying to mess with his ears.

“Always, love,” he winks, smiling down at her.

“About what, though?” Emma prods, her hand resting on the middle of his back while she makes faces at Ada, her cheeks puffing up as she inhales air.

“You.”

“Oh, your daddy is trying to be a charmer,” she whispers to their daughter, her eyes only glancing up to him for the briefest of moments.

“Who says I was thinking good things?”

Emma scoffs, like what he’s said is the most unbelievable thing in the world. It kind of is.

He adjusts Ada in his arms, wondering again how she can be this big now or if he’ll ever get used to her growing. He most likely won’t. “I’ll tell you later, love,” he promises, leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek and whispers in her ear, “I’m afraid I’ll scar the lot of them if I tell you what I was thinking just now.”

Emma’s cheeks immediately flush red, and she shakes her head back and forth, gently slapping his back. He wasn’t thinking anything dirty, but she doesn’t have to know that. He’ll tell her everything later. maybe he’ll even throw in some dirty thoughts.

“Alright,” Emma starts, clapping her hands together, “who wants to make some cookies for Santa?”

-/-

“Now that we’re alone,” he mumbles before he drags his teeth across her collarbone, her skin tasting of the slightest bit of salt, and he hears the gentle thud of Emma’s head hitting their bedroom door. He’s not particularly interested in that when he can hear her whimpers as he bites down on her skin. Her hips arch into his, and she deliciously brushes against where he’s beginning to strain. The slight friction is pleasurable, but it’s not enough. So he steps closer, caging her in, their hips rolling against each other while Emma is fully pressed up into the door, his hands above her while hers explore his back under his shirt, likely leaving red lines on his back.

“Ah, fuck,” she moans when he licks a slow stripe up her neck, and he can feel just how much she loves it with the way her nails dig into his skin.

“Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth,” he mumbles, making sure that his lips cover every inch of her skin that he has access to.”

“I’ve always had a bit of a sailor’s mouth on me.”

“Technically, you do have a sailor’s mouth on you. Quite literally”

She laughs, something deep and throaty, but it’s cancelled out by her own moan again when he gets to the spot on her ear that she likes. Her hips keep moving against his, rolling and teasing, and he can feel the pleasure and the tension build inch by wonderful inch.

“You’re an evil woman,” he continues, moving his hands down from the door so that the slide down her arms, landing at her body so that he can move them up under her shirt, not at all caring for propriety or patience as he feels the heavy weight of her breasts in her hands. “We have had family with us all evening,” he pants, not sure how much longer he can hold back. “They’re here to celebrate Christmas with us, with our children, and you spend the entire night with your hand far too high on my thigh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sighs innocently, and he would pull back to look at her with a raised brow, but he’s particularly interested in working his way back down her neck, making sure to rub his scruff into her.

“You do,” he says simply, his voice strained even to his own ears. “You’re a minx and a tease, and don’t think I didn’t notice the way you made sure to stand with your ass just in front of my view as we put out the presents.”

“I was trying to speed up the progression of the song about Mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

It’s a bad joke, but he can’t help but laugh at it before hungrily slanting his lips over Emma’s, capturing her mouth in his as their teeth clank together and their tongues battle, a harshness that is not always there with them present tonight. She nips at his bottom lip, hard, before soothing it, and it’s that which has him moving his hands from her breasts and up under her ass, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist so that he can carry her. She does, their cores pressed together, and he doesn’t break the kiss if only so Emma won’t say anything about him hurting his back. He’s not going to, not tonight.

He wants to take things slow tonight, to let them savor things, to let Emma know of his thoughts earlier of just how much he loves her, but Emma’s in a mood that has them shredding their clothes and him taking her from behind, his pleasure far outweighing hers until he reaches between them and finds the slick flesh where they’re joined. Emma’s gasp comes from the back of her throat, is similar to what must be pure sin, and he wants to hear it over and over again.

They’re hurried the first time, the need for each other too much, but when Emma wakes him in the middle of the night, he deliberately paces them slowly, holding onto Emma’s hips as she moves above him, only the sound of skin against skin and the occasional odd sound outside filling the room. The pleasure builds slowly, steadily, and this time he tells her just how much he loves her and how much she means to him. This time he tells her that his entire world has revolved around her, that it wouldn’t work without her, and he has to grit his teeth to hold back his release all the while wiping his thumb underneath her eye to push away the stray tears.

And for the few hours that they do actually get to sleep the night, their bodies are so tightly pressed together that he’s barely sure which limbs belong to him.

They wake when there’s a knock on their door, the beats fast and lacking enough rhythm for him to know that it’s Henry. He laughs into Emma’s neck before kissing down her bare back, enjoying this last little moment before the chaos of the day begins. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, the moonlight still filtering through the curtains, but Christmas has officially begun.

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back, twisting her head and kissing the corner of his lips. “We have about thirty seconds before he breaks that door down.”

“Mom,” Henry groans from outside, his knocks quieting, “you have to come outside so we can see what Santa brought me.”

“Just a minute, kid,” she laughs as the two of them quickly get up out of bed. He doesn’t know about Emma, but the headache forming in his right temple is going to kill him if he doesn’t get a nap today.

They make quick work of dressing in pajamas, Emma deftly pulling her hair into a braid so that it looks less like he spent the night fucking her, and even though they both definitely need to brush their teeth and wash their faces, they get to the door and open it to Henry standing outside practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” Emma greets, dipping down and pulling Henry into a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Henry murmurs, pushing Emma back and practically running toward the staircase.

“Henry,” he calls out, and the kid comes to a complete stop, nearly slipping in his socks. “Have you noticed that anyone is missing?”

“Ada?” he shrugs, yanking at his shirt sleeve.

“What about your dad?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Why don’t you go wake him up?” Emma says calmly while tightening the string on her pants. “Gently. We don’t jump on his bed, okay?”

“I know. Don’t go downstairs without me.”

“Scout’s honor.” He reaches up to salute Henry as he runs off before turning to look at Emma who is still working on adjusting her pants, messing with the drawstring. For awhile he was worried about how slim she was getting with the stress of giving birth and Neal, and despite her still being a bit smaller than usual, she’s getting back to how she usually is. Her being less stressed is definitely helping. “Do you want to get the other kid or shall I?”

“Will you get her? I’ve got to pee.”

“Sure, love.”

Ada is already awake when he walks into the nursery, so he quickly picks her up, kissing her cheek before stepping over to the changing table and changing her diaper before snapping back her onesie. It makes her look like a reindeer, and he’ll never quite understand where Ruth finds these outfits. And he is sure that it’s Ruth that bought it. It practically has her name written all over it.

“It’s Christmas, my little love,” he coos to her, tapping his fingers on her cheek. She’s going to need to be fed soon, but he hopes that she makes it through opening a few presents so Emma doesn’t have to miss that with Henry. “I think Santa came to visit you and your brother.”

“Come on, Dad,” he hears Henry plead, and when he walks out into the hallway, he sees Henry tugging Neal down the hallway.

“What time is it, kid?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The chuckle that passes through his lips can’t be stopped, and he flashes Neal a bit of a sympathetic smile. They warned him about this last night, but it doesn’t really hit until you’ve gotten no sleep and have to be enthusiastic for an eight-year-old.

“Morning,” Neal mumbles, flashing him a sleepy smile. “Do you think Santa left coffee under the tree?”

“God I hope so.”

Santa didn’t, but he did leave Henry several movies and toys, the house now full of a spike ball set and several scientific kits that he’s sure will make a mess. He doesn’t know why he bought those now that he thinks about it. They should have found things less messy. But it’s a riot watching Henry tear through the few gifts, especially when he gets to some of the art kits and storybooks that Neal bought him. He’s so excited about them that he practically smothers his father in a hug, jumping up on him and telling him all about the pictures he’s going to draw and stories he’s going to write with them. The smile on Neal’s face is one of a proud dad, and something settles in Killian’s heart then while he sits on the floor next to Emma with the two of them letting Ada rip at wrapping paper and chew on some of the little toys she’s collected herself.

His son has an extra person to love him, truly love him, and even though Neal is not his favorite person in the world anymore, he could be for how he loves Henry.

“What’s this?” Henry asks, holding up a small piece of paper. “Why does it say to go outside?”

“Maybe there’s a present out there that we can’t bring inside?”

“Like a car?”

“No,” Emma laughs, rising from the ground, holding out her hand for him as he brings Ada up with him, “not a car, but maybe something with wheels.”

Henry’s already squealing by the time they get outside, his new bike on proud display with a giant bow on it, and the lad is going on and on about having to shovel the snow so that he can ride it. it’s an ambitious plan, one that’s not going to work, but they’re not going to bring down his high this morning. He can have this.

Liam and Belle show up at the front door around nine, and all of the Nolans come in just behind them, Leo immediately running toward Henry so they can talk about their haul this morning. He and Emma make a conscious effort not to give Henry too much and to make sure that he understands everyone isn’t as fortunate as him, and while Killian thinks that Henry gets that, he does get excited to talk about his things with his cousin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Ruth sighs, hugging him with her small frame.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers as he kisses her cheek. “Are you ready for your grandchildren to wreak chaos on you?”

“This is every grandmother’s dream, don’t you know that?”

“I thought every grandmother’s dream was to make me gain ten pounds so that I don’t fit in my suits anymore,” David laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just because I make the food doesn’t mean you have to eat it, David.” “Mom, you know that it does. Emma,” David calls, looking over to Emma who’s just handed Ada off to Mary Margaret, “if Mom cooks, can we simply not eat the food?”

“We have to eat the food. Mostly because it’s good but really because Mom passive aggressively tortures us if we don’t eat all of her collards.”

“I do not.”

“You do, Ruth,” Mary Margaret starts. “One time I didn’t finish a panini you made me, and I swear you glared at me for weeks.”

“This is why I always finished everything you cooked me,” Neal says as he sips on his coffee.

“I cooked for you one time.”

“Yeah, don’t be a suck up, Cassidy,” Emma teases, winking over at him. “And I distinctly remember you complaining about the carrots when you never complain about anything.”

“Just throw me under the bus, why don’t you?”

“I try.”

“Belle, darling,” Liam laughs as Killian moves to start setting up breakfast for everyone, laying a sausage casserole onto the island, “are you terrified of eating anything Ruth has made now?”

“I’m shaking in my actual boots.”

“All I do is love all of you kids, and this is what I get in return,” Ruth huffs, sitting down on a barstool.

“I love you,” he tells her, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles, laying the charm on as thick as he can.

“Look who’s a suck up now,” Emma announces, opening the oven to check on the biscuits. It’s a pity he missed out on those for the first twelve years of his life. “It’s almost like you’re trying to impress her so that you can date her daughter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to the sweet Miss Nolan, but I did already knock her daughter up.”

“You’re pregnant,” Mary Margaret squeals, and his stomach does some kind of unnatural twist.

“Uh, n-no,” Emma stutters, holding her hands up while he can tell that she’s trying to find her words and regulate her breathing, her chest moving up and down the slightest bit. “I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Oh, but Killian said – ”

“It was a poor choice of words, love,” he promises, not sure where to look. He doesn’t want to look at Liam and Belle, knowing this must be an awkward situation for them that can’t be pleasant and not wanting to look at Neal either since Killian is technically talking about sleeping with the man’s ex-wife. Emma’s not a great option either, especially since she’s going to murder him later, so he settles on Ruth who is looking at him with her lips pressed together as she shakes her head from side to side. “Emma is not pregnant. The only baby I was referring to is Ada.”

“So you can calm down, hon,” David says to Mary Margaret, squeezing her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Marg,” Emma assures her, flashing her a tight smile and bopping Ada on the nose.

“It would have been some way to announce it, though,” Belle laughs, her features relaxed, “since you have actual buns in the oven.”

“Mom,” Leo yells from the living room, and practically everyone turns to look at him, “when are we going to eat?”

“After you wash your hands.”

“I already did.”

“You haven’t left that room.”

Leo huffs, dropping the ball he was holding, before he turns to Henry and very loudly whispers, “we don’t actually have to wash our hands. If we turn the water on, they think we do.”

“So no one touch anything that Leo touches,” David announces, and even though it’s a bit funny, he makes a note to make sure to check that Henry is washing his hands.

Even though he tries to catalog the entire morning, it goes by much quicker than he could possibly imagine as everyone spreads throughout the living room to eat far more than necessary, the sounds of the Polar Express on in the background to keep Leo and Henry entertained since they can’t open the presents Ruth brought them quite yet. But they do eventually get to open them, and of course, once everything starts to calm down, the chatter not quite as insistent, Ada has a meltdown. Her little face turns as red as a tomato, and she wails and wails with nothing soothing her but having him walk her back and forth down the upstairs hallway away from everyone else.

By the time it’s two in the afternoon, all of the Nolans have left, and Neal has gone to take a nap, grumbling about not being used to this early thing on his days off. Killian gets it, which is exactly why after having gotten Ada to sleep in her crib, he wanders downstairs and stretches out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table while Emma leans into his side.

“I’m tired,” she laments, nuzzling her head a little further into his chest.

“Well, you are with child,” Liam jokes from his spot on the loveseat.

“I hate you.”

“You love me, birdie.”

“Possibly. I definitely love Belle, though.”

“Damn right,” Belle agrees, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her.

“Darling,” he starts, resting his cheek against her temple while his fingers tap against the back of the couch, “don’t hurt Liam’s feelings. He doesn’t have many friends, so he really needs you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hey, language. Where’s Henry?”

“In his room, babe,” Emma laughs, patting his stomach, “so Belle and Liam can curse as much as they want to.”

“The walls are not that thick.”

“I would bloody hope that they are. Otherwise your children would be subjected to some noises that Killian makes that are not so pleasant.”

If he wasn’t too tired to move and didn’t have Emma resting on top of him, he’d…who is he kidding? He’s not going to get up and punch his brother or toss throw pillows at him for making a cheap joke about how Killian sounds during sex.

“You have the maturity of a fifteen-year-old.”

Liam shrugs. “It keeps me young.”

“If the wrinkles on your face are any indication, you need it.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma laughs, slapping his stomach again. he grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing each knuckle before placing it on his chest with his hand resting over hers. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And yet the two of you chose to be with us.”

He watches Belle pat Liam on his cheek, a smirk painted on her face. “We married far below our level.”

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

What We Did, pt. 15

Summary:  After finding out you were pregnant, Bucky agrees to help you leave the hero life. The two of you go to Seattle, and hamper down for six months until you start dreaming of a certain someone. Convinced the dreams are a sign, you and Bucky go back to New York. Will everyone be happy to see the pair of you? What questions will they have? And will the lie Bucky and you made up finally resurface? 

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my main bitch @childishhoebinoo again.

Warnings: //cheating//pregnancy//ADULT STUFF//

masterlist

Chapter Fifteen: Innocence

You followed him out of the bar, the cool breeze touched your cheeks when he looked over his shoulder to you. His face had this rough air to it, as if he was keeping a secret or desperately needed ten cups of coffee and stat. There was no denying that Clint was attractive, but his personality had been the thing to draw you in. The dry sense of humor and the human of him, he was essentially the most normal of the bunch, and that made him relatable. The two of you had been good friends, but not like Nat and him – it was different, there was something there. You hadn’t meant to fall into some sort of limbo with the married man, it just happened over time – slow steady time. The meaningful glances, the goofing around and teasing, and not to mention the alcohol. All of it was the reason you were walking back to the hotel with Clint, while the others stayed back to drink more. None of them batted an eye at the announcement that the two of you were calling it a night, why would they? You were all friends, and Barton was happily married, everything was innocence.

Except it wasn’t.

Nothing was innocent about you inviting Clint into your room, and nothing that happened after the door closed behind him was pure of thought. It was madness between the sheets, his skin against yours, his mouth on yours, and him inside you, moving deeper and deeper until the two of you had fallen selfishly asleep – nothing to make you toss and turn. Not even the shame and guilt of it all.

That, that was left for the morning.

Laura sat in the dining room, waiting patiently as Bucky and you excused yourselves back to the living room for a moment, out of sight and hearing range. You held a hand to your belly as you stumbled over to the couch, near hysterics as Bucky attempted to calm you down.

“How can I remain calm? The woman whose husband knocked me up is in my dining room,” you whispered harshly, instantly feeling terrible for taking it out on him. Bucky sighed and walked over to you, pulling you into his arms – where it all felt safe. “James, what am I going to say?”

Tears fell down your face as he slowly pulled you off him, holding you gently by the shoulders. His eyes were soft and warm, his lips in a slight frown.

“You’re a strong woman, you’re going to go in there and tell her the truth – that’s all there is to do.” Nodding, you brushed away a tear as Bucky leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “It’s going to bed okay, sweetheart. This is the hardest part of this all, just think about what comes after – your little boy.”

“Our little boy,” you corrected, taking a deep breath to gather the courage. He asked if you wanted him to sit with you, but you declined. “It has to be me, it has to be.”

…

Laura looked up with a polite smile as you walked in with two cups of tea, placing one down in front of you. She thanked you quietly and watched as you took a seat across from her, the two of you sitting in awkwardness until she pulled out the sonogram that Clint had taken from the apartment. She stared down at it, her fingers touching it carefully. Tears formed in her eyes and you had never felt more suitable for hell in your life. You could see it on her face, she knew the truth, but wanted so desperately to be wrong. You did too. What you wouldn’t give to erase her pain, to make Bucky the biological father of your son.

“You know, when Clint first introduced me to Natasha, I was a bit jealous,” Laura admitted with an embarrassed shrug. “She’s so beautiful and she could do things I couldn’t, but Clint had seen something in her. He was right, she’s amazing. I love her like a sister and I realized there was never anything to worry about.”

She paused, her chin quivering as she regained her composure.

“I felt silly,” she confessed, her eyes going back down to the sonogram. “Then I met you and at first I thought it was just like Nat. I was excited to get to know you, but remember that one time you all came down to the farm?”

“For the baby shower…”

She nodded, her eyes locked onto you. The hatred, you could feel it burning into you as she sighed.

“I caught you and Clint in a moment, you had said something to him and he laughed. It wasn’t any laugh,” she explained, tears coming down the side of her face. “It was the laugh he reserved for me. His wife. The love of his life, the mother of his children. It was my laugh and he gave it to you. I knew then I had to keep my eye out for you, but I didn’t think it would come to this.”

Laura shook her head and pushed the sonogram away. “I found this in Clint’s wallet, he can be an idiot sometimes. He thinks too much with his heart, of course he’s going to want to take care of his child. I know my husband and he won’t let this go.”

“Laura, I don’t want anything from him…Bucky…”

“I heard,” she interrupted. “But tell me how that is fair? You get to live in this gorgeous house, with a good man and a new baby while my family is in shambles? What about my kids? Their perspective of their father will be changed, there is no hiding this. That is Clint’s son, and nothing will ever change that, we both know him. He’s going to want to do the right thing.”

“I know, I’ve tried to talk –“

“- that’s another thing. I need you to back off, I want to save my marriage and my family. If we’re going to get this through, I don’t need you around.”

“Laura,” you straightened up, hands on the table. “I want nothing more than to pretend this never happened. I never wanted Clint to know, this wasn’t the plan.”

“Was sleeping with my husband the plan? You were his friend, I trusted my husband, I trusted all of you…”

“There’s no one to blame but Clint and I. The others, they had nothing to do with this,” you asserted, not wanting this to tarnish Natasha’s relationship with the Barton clan. Just thinking about her finding out, it made you want to throw up. “I just want to disappear from everyone’s life, that’s why we are here. I don’t want to cause any more damage.”

Laura sat still, taking everything, you laid out. Her face was pale as she seemed to be lost in her own thought until she finally gazed up at you. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she cleared her throat and said she just needed to know one thing.

“Do you love him?”

The question hurt your heart, because of course you did. How could you not? He had given you a child and like Laura said, that would never change. He had been your best friend for so long and you’d be lying if you said there had been no ounce of feelings, but it wasn’t like that. It was never going to be like that, so why make it worse.

“No,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “I don’t love Clint, not like that.”

Laura stared at you for a long moment, as if she was trying to figure if you were telling the truth. Finally, without a word, she got up from her chair and walked of out the dining room. Seconds later, as your heart beat rapidly, the front door opened then closed. When it became quiet, your just sat there, stunned and gutted. Reaching over for the sonogram, you looked at the photo of your child and felt a sense of relief.

“That was the hardest part.” Bucky walked into room, making a beeline to you. He stood behind you, his hands on your shoulder as he rubbed them, telling it would all be fine. “You were so strong.”

“You heard?”

“I was listening from the other room, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured him, dipping your head back into his chest. “She hates me and I don’t blame her. I just hope she can forgive Clint, she knows her husband, she has to know he isn’t a bad guy.”

“You lied to her.”

Your frowned, pulling away to turn to face Bucky. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged with a pained smile. “When she asked if you loved him, you said not like that…”

“Bucky, I’ve told you…”

“Baby, you’re not a great liar. I could hear it in your voice and I think Laura could too. You love Barton, and I understand, it doesn’t change anything between us. I just wish you’d be honest with yourself.”

You got up from the chair and faced Bucky, turning him to you. Reaching over, you held his face in your hands and smiled. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happened between Clint and I, whatever feelings we shared for each other could never compare to what I feel for you. Those feelings for him have faded and eventually will be completely gone, but the way I feel about you – I want that forever.”

Bucky smiled then, giving out a little chuckle as you leaned in to kiss him. He held you close to his body and whispered that he loved you in-between kisses and when the two of you pulled away, because the baby was not happy, you grinned.

“I’ve had enough drama for today, can we just go watch a movie now?”

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky said, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

Forever tags:

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[mychemicalimagines]

Baby Negan In The Making

Request by Anon- “ Hey! I love your writing! Would you mind writing an imagine for me? Fluff with JDM. Laying in a hammock. I’m reading a book, and he’s checking his emails on his phone. Just a relaxing day with him, full of fluff, and maybe going for a dip in the pool? Thanks, hun! :) “

Warnings: Implied Smut, Too Much Fluff-is that even a warning

Word Count: 1197

Characters: OC, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, and Cameo by Norman Reedus!

Tag List: @jayrart @you-a-southpaw-doll

A/N-To request please message me or submit an ask!:] Hope you enjoy. 

I lay with my husband in the hammock that he put in our yard one day. We haven’t had much time together since he’s always away filming. The Walking Dead gave him a few episodes off so he flew home to be with me. I’m happy for him to be home. I didn’t see him for almost 4 months.

“Baby? Have you seen my phone?” He asks from the back doorway to the house.

“It’s on the kitchen counter charging,” I look over my shoulder at him.

He winks at me and walks back inside. I shake my head. That man would lose his head if it wasn’t attached. I look back to my book that I’m currently reading and after a few minutes of reading a shadow is casted over me.

“Doll, move over please.” I look up and see Jeffrey standing over me.

I sit up a little and he lays down behind me. He gets comfortable and I lean back into his chest. I pull up my book again and start reading. Out of the corner of my eye I see him on his phone. I smile to myself and I continue to read. After a few minutes, I turn to Jeffrey.

“Baby,” I say softly.

He looks over at me.

“We have been married for 5 years and never talked about this, but how would you feel about having a baby” I ask, looking into his eyes.

“A baby? Hell yeah I would want a baby. Wait are you-” Jeffrey starts to say.

“No!” I say quickly. “I was just thinking maybe we can start making one soon,” I blush, biting my lip.

“Well Darling,” He says leaning down, kissing my neck onto my shoulder. “Why don’t we get started right now?”

“Well baby,” I say standing up, inching my top up slowly.

He smirks at me and stands up, “What?”

“There’s something I want to do first,” I whisper biting my lip.

He keeps watching me and licks his lips, “Whats that baby?”

I throw my shirt on the ground and giggles, “I’m going swimming.” I turn around and run to the pool.

He realizes I was wearing my swimsuit and curses to himself, “Get back here,” He laughs, chasing me.

About a month later. I’m sitting in my doctors office and I swing my legs. I was really sick yesterday and today so I’m making sure I don’t have the flu. My doctor walks inside.

“Mrs. Morgan, I have some news for you.” She says sitting down on the stool by the bed.

“Good news?” I ask nervously. I hate having the flu.

“Actually, it would depend on you but yes. I believe it’s good news. You’re pregnant Mrs. Morgan.” She says looking up from her paperwork.

I pause for a second. “Wait really?”

“Yes. About a month” She smiles a little at me.

I start tearing, “Oh my! I can’t wait to tell Jeffrey!”

For the next 20 minutes she tells me what to do and what to not do while pregnant and when finally I get out, I hurry and call the one person I know who would want to help.

“Hello?”

“Norman! I need to talk to you! Where can we meet?” I say quickly but happily.

“I’m at the coffee shop by South and Main. Meet me here?” He asks confused.

“Yes!” I say and hang up my phone. I drive quickly but safety to the coffee shop.

“Hey girl,” Norman says giving me a hug when i get inside.

“I have great news!” We sit down at a table.

“Whats that?” He asks confused.

“I’m pregnant! And I need your help to tell Jeffrey.”

“Really?” He says excited. He stands quickly and wraps his arms around me.

“Yes!”

For the next hour Norman and I are thinking of ways to tell him.

“I got it!” Norman says. “I can find a baby sized Motorcycle, like a toy, and a leather jacket and you get it made with something on the back of it saying ‘baby Negan’” he says smiling. “I could have it today or tomorrow.”

“Thats perfect!” I say, “I can tell him tomorrow when you get it.”

While Norman makes some calls, I hurry and find place that will make the jacket today. After 2 hours, Norman and I finally get everything together. I will pick up the jacket in the morning and Norman can have the bike tonight.

“Thanks so much Norman for all your help,” I say giving him another hug.

“I’m glad to help. I’m happy I’m the first you told,” He laughs a little. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

The next day, I sneak out of the house while Jeffrey is sleeping and I get the jacket. Norman meets me back at home with the bike under a sheet.

“He’s still sleeping so we have a little time.” I say.

Norman and I clean the bike off, getting it ready for Jeffrey to see. We lay the jacket onto the seat and I smile.

“It looks perfect!” I say clapping my hands silently.

“You did a good job,” Norman gives me a hug, “I got to go but record it so I can watch.”

He leaves and I walk inside to see Jeffrey walking down the stairs.

“Hey doll,” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “What were you doing outside?”

“I have a surprise for you,” I smile.

“What’s that darling?” He asks walking over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Close your eyes,” I turn around.

He closes his eyes tightly as he keeps his hands on my waist and I lead him outside. I look over my shoulder to make sure he’s not peaking. We finally make it to the driveway where the bike is sitting.

“Ready?” I ask, turning around.

“Of course.”

“Okay. One, Two, Three. Open.”

He opens his eyes and looks over at the bike. His eyebrows get pushed together then he looks at me. He then walks over to the little bike and kneels down looking at the jacket.

“Baby Negan in the Making?” He looks over his shoulder at me. Then the look of shock goes over his face. “You’re pregnant?”

I nod and blush. He stands quickly and runs over to me.

“You’re pregnant?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I say giggling.

He kneels down on the ground and looks at my belly.

“There’s an actually baby in here?”

“Yes,” I giggle as he wraps his arms around me and kisses my tummy.

“I can’t wait to meet you little guy. Wait is it a boy?” He looks up at me.

“I don’t know yet. Norman and I thought of this idea since it seemed easier.” I say.

“Wait, Norman knew?”

“I only found out yesterday and I needed his help. Why?”  I asked confused.

“He texted me yesterday saying ‘I know something you don’t know’” Jeffrey says laughing.

I laugh and run my fingers through him hair.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” He whispers and kisses my tummy once again.

I love him so much and I can’t wait to start this next step with him.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Star Crossed Rivalry: Part 4

Pairings: Opie x Reader (SOA/TWD MC AU Crossover ) Negan daughter!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Violence

Word Count: 5,484

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is honestly heaven.” You breathed as you lay in the sand of your private Sonora beach home, curtesy of the Galindo cartel, Romeo’s influence in the country, and who you were to Romeo. 

“Wrong.” Opie said as he filed in the hole Creature was wildly digging just because he could. “What would be heaven is if a) you had your top off and b) you felt better.” You rolled your head on the towel and smile behind your sunglasses.

“Opie, you see me naked all the fucking time.” You laughed as you pulled at his swim trunks. “And I feel fine, baby…”

“Baby…” He cooed as he stopped digging. He smiled and leaned forward to kiss on your nonexistent baby bump.

“Will you quit.” You laughed as his beard tickled your side. “We don’t even know I’m pregnant yet.”

“Well you’re the one that put the idea in my head.” He said as he stretched out in the warm sand beside you and laid his head on your thigh. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I think you’d make a good dad.” You said as you reached down to run your fingers through his loose hair. “Could you imagine a little Opie running around the beach with us?” He shook his head and dragged his fingertips across your stomach.

“It’s gunna be a little girl.” He said, matter of factly. “And she’ll be just as beautiful as you.” Your smile grew as he pressed his fingers lightly into your skin as if he was trying to feel his child. “Guess I can be glad we got beat up.”

“No, you’re glad that the antibiotics I took so I didn’t get Tig germs in my fucking forehead knocked out my birth control and we’re space cadets that can’t understand the concept of condoms.”

“That too.” He chuckled as he sat up and crawled up your body. He leaned over you and pulled off your sunglasses with a smile. “Let’s get married.” You pulled back as far as you could in the sand and searched his eyes.

“Opie.”

“(Y/N).” He chuckled as he brushed your hair back with his sandy hands. “Look, we’ve already been through hell and back together. And I love you, more than anything in the world. So I want you to be my wife. And even if you’re pregnant right now or not right now, I want to start a family with you, and grow old with you. I want to wake up to your smile and fall asleep with you in my arms until I take my last breath.” You choked out a laugh as he shifted his weight on his left arm to reach down to his pocket. He smirked as he purposely dipped his fingers into the waist band of your bikini bottoms before continuing on to his shorts pocket. “That’s not my pocket.”

“So romantic.” You laughed as you reached up to brush your tears away.

“I know.” He chuckled as he pulled out your moms engagement ring. He held it in front of your face with a warm smile as you burst into tears. “Marry me, baby girl.” You nodded your head and covered your face as he rested his weight back on both arms. “I hope that’s a yes.” He chuckled as he picked your left ring finger up and slid the ring into place for you.

“It’s a yes!” You squeaked as you moved your hands to hold his and cup his face. “You’re so mean!” You laughed as you pulled him down into a kiss.

“Can I confess that I actually got the ring from your dad New Years Eve? I was going to propose at the Sanctuary but it didn’t feel right.”

“This is much better.” You said with a nod as you pushed his hair back behind his ears. “It’s perfect.”

“No, Mrs. Winston.” He said with a shake of his head. “You are perfect.”

——

Since the day your fiancé saw the small, wiggling bean on the first ultrasound, he woke you up every morning the exact same way. He’d hum, half asleep, with a giant smile on his face as he felt around the king size bed to find where you had ended up in your sleep. When he got your moaned response, he push himself across the sheets and pillows to pepper your face with kisses. When he finally got you to wake up enough to kiss back, he slid down the bed, and pulled you onto your side in front of his face to talk to his child.

Every morning, as the sun peeked through the curtains and while you slowly untangled the knots in his hair, Opie told stories. Everything from what his dream was the night before to trouble he had gotten into as a child and with the club. He opened up more to you in those quiet moments than he was ever able to in North Carolina out of fear, and didn’t stop sharing until morning sickness or the desperate need to use the bathroom ripped you from bed. You’d always come back though, not ready to start another day of living in paradise, and told both Opie and your child similar stories he didn’t already know.

“Do you think we’ll ever try to go back to the States?” You asked him one morning as you neared the beginning of your second trimester. “I mean, our bun does have grandparents that don’t know he exists.”

“Well.” Ope sighed as he walked his fingers in a slow circle around the bump that got a little bigger every day. “Let’s look at it this way. We have my dad, the alcoholic biker. My mom, the woman that walked away from her kid. And your dad, who’s a dick.” He picked his head up off the mattress and rolled on to his stomach to look at you. “On top of that, you’re wanted by the Sons, and I’m wanted by the Saviors, no matter what our immediate clubs have to say. I mean, we can absolutely go back if you wanna go back, hun. I have no problem with that what so ever. Happy wife, happy life. I just want the love of my life and our kid to be safe. And from where I’m sittin’, being in Sonora, under the protection of the fucking cartel, is the safest place we can be.” You nodded your head and sighed as you reached out to brush his hair back out of his face.

“I just… I feel bad, Ope. I’ve pulled you away from everything…” Ope cut you off with a loud groaned sigh as he flopped face down on the bed beside you.

“(Y/N), do you know how many times we have had this conversation?” He asked as he looked back up at you. “A hundred. Fuck, maybe even a thousand. You- didn’t- pull- me- away- from- anything. Not a single damn thing. SAMCRO is fucking toxic. Why else do you think I took off the day I left prison? I did five damn years for a group of guys that was supposed to have my back. I won’t do that shit again. Prison sucks. Like fucking royally. I don’t wanna go back ever again. So, for the last time, you didn’t take me away from everything. You gave me everything worth living for.” You nodded your head as a tear slipped down your cheek. He chuckled and pushed himself up on his hands and knees to get up for the day. “Now, if you say that shit again, I will… flick you in the nose.”

“Oh, how threatening.” You said as he kissed your bump, then you.

“I know. So scary.”

“Like a giant teddy bear.” You said with a yawn as you got up to let Creature out. While your dog ran out into the private, walled off, second story patio you had had grassed in for him outside your bedroom, you walked into the bathroom to brush your teeth and throw on a bathing suit for the day. “What are we gunna do today?” Ope hummed as he spit his mouthful of toothpaste and turned on his sink while you jumped up on the counter between the two vanities.

“Well… we can always start check off your Mexico beach list.” He suggested as he leaned back far enough for you to spit in the sink without getting your toothpaste on him.

“No.” You sighed as he passed you the mouthwash.

“What about taking Creature hiking?” You huffed through your nose and shook your head before spitting again.

“No.”

“You can watch me fix the motorcycle you chucked in the back of your pick up truck.” He said in a teasing tone as he moved your leg to grab his hair brush.

“Wasn’t me.” You said as you snagged his brush, and jumped off the counter. “And I think you should be happy that I at least saved your bike.”

“Oh, I am.” He said as he kneeled down so you could brush his hair into the man bun you found absolutely delicious on him. “But you could have at least stood it up before you strapped it down.” You met his eyes in the mirror and gave him a sarcastic sneer. 

“Sorry that saving the father of my child and future husband’s life was a little more important. I’ll try not to do that again.” He smirked at you and found your smiling eyes in the mirror.

“You’d miss me too much.” You smile grew and you nodded your head as you twisted the hair tie in his hair. 

“I really would.” You agreed as you pulled the sides of the bun out and dropped your hands to his shoulders. He leaned back into you gently and reached back to hold on to your calves with a content sigh.

“I have an idea.” He said as he rolled his head back to look up at you. “How about we get a start on baby shopping? Get the essentials now, and wait for any clothes or things that involve the gender until later. Gets us out of the house for a while, we get some exercise, we get some shopping done early….” Your smile grew, and you nodded your head as you cupped his jaw in your hands.

“You’re a smart man, Opie Winston.”

——

“Can I get one of these?” Ope asked as he picked up a small blue beanie and dropped it on top of his bun. You smirked and shook your head.

“Looks a little small, honey.”

“It’s a bun protector.” He joked as you turned back to look at the cute little dresses and the even more adorable suits with ties.

“If you get a bun protector, I’m getting one of each of these.” You said as you grabbed a pink, frilly ‘going home’ dress and a blue tie/ white mock button down, collared onesie with black pants and held them out. 

“Yea, ‘cause I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, ever.” He chuckled as he took the pants suit from your hand to look at it with a smile. He sighed as he ran his fingers across the buttons. “We really are having a baby.” With a nod of your head, you laid the dress down carefully in the bottom of your cart.

“And he or she’s going to be the cutest damn thing in the world.” With a nod of agreement, Opie passed off the little suit and looked over at the bells that chimed when the door opened. Panic ripped through him as he looked at the Lobos Sonora kuttes on the two angry looking men the pair of you had passed on the streets on your way to the store.

“Move!” He shouted as he grabbed your arm and yanked you in front of his body. You shrieked and took off down the isle as the little shop was drowned in booming gun fire. You forced yourself to stay low and keep moving until you made it out the back door into a crowded street. “Left, left!” Your fiancé shouted as a new hail of bullets hit the wall of the shop from somewhere in the crowd. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” You nodded your head, and dipped down an alley between two buildings as the gun fire finally came to an abrupt halt. 

“Ope?” You asked as you glanced over your shoulder. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said with a nod as he grabbed you before you left the mouth of the alley. His breaths came out in heavy pants as he held your shaking body to his chest.

“We gotta… keep moving…” You panted as you gripped his shirt tight in your fists. He nodded his head as he leaned around the edge of the building to look.

“Keep your head down, and don’t stop.” He growled as he pulled his shirt from your hands and turned you toward the street to the left. He tucked you against his side and covered the side of your head with his hand as you put both your hands over your bump to protect your child. Opie led you in a zigzag pattern through the streets, keeping his head on a swivel until he found a road that was familiar to you both in your four months of living in Sonora. He finally lead you into doctors office building and pushed past a man to get you into the bathroom on the ground floor to call for help.

“Are you hit?” He asked as he glared at the man trying to follow you into the bathroom before he locked the door in the man’s face. You shook your head as you held on to the sink to keep yourself up right.

“I don’t…” You tried, but your mouth was too dry to speak. Opie turned in his spot and came over to check, completely ignoring the blood dripping down his arm from the graze he got.

“You’re OK, baby girl.” He said as he turned you gently and checked every inch of your body. “We’re OK.” You nodded your head once before turning in your spot and throwing up in the sink. “Shhh, I’m here.” He cooed as he pulled your hair back for you, pulled your still shaking body against his body to keep you up right, and rubbed your back as the initial shock wore off. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, let out an unheard sigh, and double checked to make sure you hadn’t been shot.

“I wanna go home.” You sobbed as you burst into tears.

“I’m gunna get you home, baby.” He said as he got a couple paper towels wet to wipe off your face. “I swear to you, we’re going home today.” You nodded and buried your face in his chest as he leaned back against the wall and held you tight. He hit his head against the wall and swore loudly, knowing that with the Lobos cartel knowing that one if not both of you were associated with an American MC, his family was no longer safe in Mexico even with the help of the Galindo Cartel. The rivalry between Lobos and both of your clubs was bigger than anything imaginable. After a few moments of running the scenarios, he pulled his phone from his pocket and found Romeo’s number in the call list to see if someone could pick both of you up and get you back stateside no matter what the consequences would be with the lesser of three evils.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t surprised to see your father waiting for you when you got to the Arizona / Mexico border, but you were, however, surprised to see Jax waiting with him. Tears welled in your eyes and a hormonal rush of emotions washed over you as Negan took off at a run to get to your truck that Opie was pulling over to the side of the road. You unbuckled your seatbelt as your dad slid in the gravel while ripping open the passenger door.

“Fucking thank God.” He said as he pulled you into his arms. “You’re OK, baby girl. It’s OK.” He said as you burst into tears. He nodded his head with tears in his eyes, and kissed your shoulder while you held on to his kutte as tightly as you could. “You’re coming home, princess.” You nodded your head as Opie got back in the truck behind you and leaned over to rub your back.

“Let’s get them to the hotel.” He said with a slightly paranoid glance through the back window of the truck. Negan nodded as he pulled back to look at you with a smile.

“Alright, buckle up. I’m not gunna wait for you all fucking day.” With a huffed laugh and a nod, you sat back in your chair and took the offered seatbelt from your father. He inhaled a little sharply as he looked at your small baby bump but he put a smile on his face and looked back up at you. “Boy or girl?” You looked over at him, confused for half a second, before shaking your head.

“Too soon to know.” He nodded his head and looked back down at the bump, finally noticing Lucille’s ring on your finger. His heart shattered, hating that he had missed so much of his daughter’s life already because of his actions, but he was at least grateful that you were hopefully coming back home so he wouldn’t miss any more. 

“Alright, let’s go. We’re fucking holding up traffic.”

——

“Are you going to sleep with us again? Even though you have a perfectly good room you paid for right across the hall.” You asked as you pulled Creature out of his carrier purse and set him on the bed. Jax shrugged as he flopped down on the other queen bed and pushed his boots off with his toes. 

“I haven’t really seen my best friend in nine months. So yea, I’m gunna stay and gossip like a school girl.” You rolled your eyes and went over to dig your dogs bowls and food bag from one of the many bags of clothes and belongings that you were bringing back with you from your Sonora home. 

“You’re an idiot.” You said with a glance over your shoulder at the Son that was growing on you more and more every day. He shrugged again and grabbed the remote as Opie and Negan pulled the last couple bags in from the bed of your pick up so they wouldn’t get stolen in the Tucson hotel parking lot. 

“What are you looking for, baby?” Opie asked as he set the bags he was holding down on the bed.

“Creature’s bowls.” He nodded as he came over to pull out the bag under the one you were looking through. You thanked him and smiled as you took the bowls from his hands.

“So.” Negan said as he grabbed the desk chair and spun it around. “We’re here to try to figure out what to fucking do with you two trouble makers.”

“Smooth, Daddy.” You sighed as you set the two bowls on the floor a few feet away from the just in case of an accident pee pad your fiancé was laying out. 

“You have two options.” He continued as you sat down on your bed. “You both can go to Charming with Jax. Or you can come back to Boone with me.”

“A deal has been put into place.” Jax said as he sat up and looked at you and Opie. “As far as both clubs are concerned, you two are off limits.”

“Clay agreed to that?” Opie asked as he sat down beside you. Jax shook his head subtly in response.

“The table agreed to that.” He responded in a breath.

“We’re going back to Boone.” Opie said immediately. “I’m not putting my family in that psychopath’s hands…”

“Wait… I’m missing something.” You said as Negan hung his head to hid his grateful, tear filled eyes and smug smile.

“There’s a riff in SAMCRO right now.” Jax said as he leaned forward on his thighs. “Clay is losing his grip, and we have ATF down our throats. He’s scrambling to keep his failing hands on the gavel, and he’ll take out anyone he deems a threat.”

“That includes the daughter of the Saviors president.” Ope said with a look over at you as he put his hand on the small of your back. “He’ll kill you, no problem, to try to bring the Saviors to Charming for retaliation.”

“Which it would.” Negan chimed in as he looked up at you. “And that’ll divert ATF’s attention to what’s left of the Saviors after the blood bath we would bring away from the Sons, which also brings the DEA back to our doors…”

“If you go back to Boone, the Son’s can’t touch you.” Jax said with a slightly worried glance at your dad for what he said about the blood bath. “You’re in the heart of Saviors territory. Clay wouldn’t dare come after you there.” You nodded your head as you rubbed your bump absentmindedly with your fingertips.

“And what about Opie?”

“Opie’s safe.” Negan said with a nod. “I’ve sat down with each and every fucking president and explicitly stated that he’s off fucking limits in Saviors territory. He could walk through the Sanctuary in a Sons kutte and a SAMCRO shirt with a giant fucking sign over his head during a house party and all he would get is looks. And for those fucking idiots that can’t fucking comprehend that, they’ll answer to fucking Lucille.” You nodded your head and reached over to rest your hand on Opie’s knee.

“His parents, and Jax.” You said as you looked at your dad. “Mary…”

“Still in Boone.” Negan said with a nod. “She came back when the treaty was established.”

“His dad, Piney, and Jax need to be allowed to come, too.” You said with a glance over at your fiancé. “These two are like a package deal, and I can’t keep a grandfather away from his grandchild…”

“If that’s what you want, princess.” Negan said with a nod as he leaned back for Creature to jump on his lap. “I’ll make it happen.” You nodded your head and looked back up at Opie.

“Is that what you want?” He smiled and nodded his head as he reached out to cup your jaw in his hand.

“What I want is you, and for you and our child to be safe. However I have to go about getting it.  If that means moving back to your house, with the gorgeous views, and the hot tub we can’t use for a few months until our baby is born, which is such a hard ship, by the way.” He joked with a smile. “We’ll go back to Boone. And we’ll start our family, and get married, and live happily ever after.” You smiled and nodded your head.

“OK.” You breathed. “OK, we’ll go back to Boone.” Opie’s smile grew even more as he nodded his head and leaned forward to give you a chaste kiss. 

“Alright, kids. Get some rest.” Negan said as he put Creature down on the floor and got up from his chair. “We got a long fucking drive ahead of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N), go sit the fuck down.” Negan said as you walked back over to your truck to help unpack it so you could go to bed.

“I’m fine, Dad.” You said as you reached in the bed to grab your bag of Creature’s things. Opie jogged up behind you, and snatched the bag from your hand with a scowl.

“Go. Inside.” He demanded a little shortly from lack of sleep since he and your dad had been trading off driving for the past 30 something hours. “Bed, now.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and relinquish your grip on the bag.

“I just can’t with you right now, Ope.” You sighed as you turned on your heel and took a step toward the door. He quickly reached out and grabbed your arm.

“Come here.” He said as he pulled you back in to his arms. He sighed and kissed the top of your head as you wrapped your arms around his sweaty middle. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I know.” You said with a nod. He rubbed your back for a moment as exhaustion seeped deeper into his soul.

“Will you go sit down for me?” He asked calmly as he pulled you back to search your eyes. “Please? For me? We’re just bringing the bags in tonight, and your dad and I can handle these ourselves. And tomorrow, you can unpack to your little hearts content. You’ve been through a lot the last few days, and you need rest. Now please, please… go sit down.” You nodded your head with a small sigh as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Don’t work too hard.” You said as you turned to head back inside. Your fiancé rolled his eyes at your back with a small smile and turned back to grab more bags as Negan walked up to his side. 

“She gets that tenacity from me.” He chuckled as he grabbed your bag of clothes. “Her mother was the only one that could reign both of us in.” He looked over at his future son-in-law and shook his head. “She’ll keep you on your fucking toes for the rest of your life. She’ll drive you fucking nuts, but she’ll make you fall in love with her every fucking day, too.” He threw your bag over his shoulder with a smirk. “But you know that as fucking well as I do. Good fucking luck, son.” Ope nodded his head with a huffed laugh as he picked up his duffle bag of clothes and the bag of ‘books’ you had been carting around that were hallowed out to store guns, knives, and ammunition.

“She’s worth it.” Ope said as he turned to follow Negan inside. “Pain or not, she’s absolutely fucking worth it.”

——

“I think we should start considering baby proofing this place.” You said as you looked at the blind cords hanging all over your living room. Opie looked over at you from the kitchen where he was making you both lunch with his eye brow raised.

“Hey baby.” He cooed with a cocky smile. “You know you’re still pregnant, right? Our son isn’t going to be crawling around, getting into anything for a long, long time.”

“Yea, but it goes by so fast.” You sighed as you watched Creature try to rip the leg off a stuffed duck. Your son pushed against your stomach, creating a ripple of movement under your blue maternity top so you pulled up the material to look at your belly. “You agree, little man? You’re growing so fast you’re running outta room in there.”

“Well of course he’s running out of room.” Your fiancé chuckled as he handed you your plate of two breakfast sausage patties on garlic Texas toast with dill pickle slices, and a side of mozzarella sticks with ranch and marinara sauce mixed in a small bowl, which you had lived on for most of your second trimester and all of your third, much to Opie’s disliking since the concept of it all just turned his stomach. “He’s a growing boy, aren’t you little man?”

“Are we just going to call him little man for the rest of all eternity?” You asked as he reached out, and pressed on your son’s palm so he would push back. “Because Hunter is such a perfect name…”

“It is a perfect name.” Opie agreed as he ran his finger over his son’s palm like he was shaking his hand. “But he’s my little man, isn’t that right?” He cooed as he leaned forward to kiss Hunter’s fingertips.

“You’re impossible.” You giggled as you took a bite of your sandwich. You moaned at how delicious it was, and rolled your head back on the couch. “I swear you’re getting better at this.”

“Not gunna lie.” He said as he picked up his Italian sub. “I’ll be glad when I can stop making them.”

“Well you got a week until my c-section. Just in time for Halloween.” You reminded him. “And then I’ll finally be able to sleep without a damn bowling ball sized child on my spine.”

“Or my hip.” Opie chimed in.

“Boo hoo.” You said as you pulled apart a mozzarella stick and dipped it in its sauce. “You sleep like a damn rock. Snoring away while I grow a person.”

“And why is that?” He asked, baiting you for the end of your rant like he did on a regular basis, since he had learned pretty quickly that arguing this point would get him no where.

“Because God hates women!” You snapped as you looked over at him. “God hates women, and likes to watch them suffer. Which is why I am semi-grateful that your giant son has a big ass head so I don’t have to go through the pain of child birth.”

“See, I’m useful somewhere.” Ope teased as he ate a chip from his plate. 

“Shut up, Opie.” You took another bite of your sandwich as someone knocked on your door and walked right in.

“Clean baby shit.” Negan said as he kicked the front door closed behind him and walked over to the coffee table to put down the laundry basket on the table followed by the container of Dreft baby safe laundry soap. “Frankie washed everything with warm water and the soap first, line dried it, then rewashed it in cold water with no soap, and lined dried it again.”

“You know I could have done it myself.” You said as you pointed at the basket and pat the couch beside you. “‘stead of having Frankie’s slut germs all over it.”

“Leave her the fuck alone.” He growled as he put the basket down beside you and looked at the meal he made for you all of one time when Opie was feeling under the weather. “Still eating that shit?”

“Fuck off.” You said as you wiped your hands on your maternity yoga pants and picked up a plaid, flannel button down that would hopefully fit perfectly for Hunter’s first Thanksgiving. “Is his Halloween costume in here?”

“Should be.” Negan said as he flopped down in the chair and kicked his feet up on the table. “Everything you had in those bags is in there.” You nodded your head as you dug through the basket until you found the Dalmatian patterned onesie to go with your Dalmatian outfit, and Opie’s fire fighter costume since the annual Saviors halloween party for kids involved mandatory costumes. You smiled as you held it up in front of you.

“I just hope he’s not to big for this. It’s a 0-3 month old size.” You said as you ran your fingers across the spots until you felt a flood of wetness between your legs as if you had stood up on your period. You sat up a bit, and looked down with your eyebrows furrowed. “I think my water just broke.” After only a moment of hesitation, Opie and Negan leapt to their feet.

“I got the bags!” Your fiancé shouted as he ran toward the stairs.

“I got the truck!” Negan called out on his way to the door. 

“Whoa, whoa!” You roared to both men. “You’re not going anywhere just yet!” Both men stopped to look at you as you put the costume back in the laundry basket. “First of all, will one of you help me the fuck up? I’m the one having a fucking baby, here! And second, we’re gunna stay fucking calm because I do not want this watermelon thinking it’s coming head first out of my fucking cooch today!” Opie nodded, and ran back around the couch, moving your plate off your bump, and carefully pulling you to your feet. You cringed as more water pooled between your legs and dripped down your thighs. You glanced at your dad on your way to the door, and gestured to the couch as the first, faint contraction pulled at your lower stomach. “Can you get Frankie to clean that cushion? I know she’s basically living at your house now.” Your dad rolled his eyes, and groaned as Opie held most of your body weight against him on the way out the door with a smirk on his face.

“You’re a fucking brat, princess.” Negan sighed as he followed you out the door to go get Frankie before he followed you to the hospital.

Part 5

[edxwin-elric]

A Nice, Hot Bath

Rating: T

Pairing: Royai/Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 1703

Title: A Nice, Hot Bath

Description: Royai One Shot

​Riza finds herself taking care of both a sick child and a sick daddy.

A/N: Requested by @shivering-link. #35 “Take your medicine.” - from these fic prompts. This one took a little figuring out, so I hope it turned out okay. Also I posted this already but tumblr was doing something jacked to the punctuation, which I have since learned happened when I tried to add the cut. SO here you go.

ffn || ao3

Riza

“Okay.” I snuggle the fourth stuffed bear in the covers next to my red-faced baby boy and hand him his sippy cup. “Are you ready to sleep?”

“I want Hayate to sleep with me,” he mumbles pitifully.

“Not tonight, Maes,” I say gently, stroking his hair off his feverish forehead. “You need rest.”

“Can I have another story then?”

I sigh internally. I’ve already read six bedtime stories. That said, even if he wasn’t sick, I couldn’t deny him.

“One more.” I sit down on the edge of the bed. “And then you have to sleep.”

I’ve barely gotten through the first page when I look up and see he’s out. Setting the book on the nightstand, I kiss his forehead and shut the light off. The soft glow of the nightlight lets me out, and I roll my shoulders as I pad down the hall to my own room.

As soon as I open the door, I’m greeted with a low groan from the bed.

“How are you doing?” I walk around to Roy’s side and run the back of my hand over his forehead.

“Nevermind about me,” he mutters. “How’s our son?”

“His fever hasn’t broken yet,” I admit. “I’ll check on him again in a little bit. He only just fell asleep.”

“Mmm. Good,” he grunts. “Did you get him his juice?”

“Yes.” I sigh. “I arranged all the teddies and read him bedtime stories before I gave him his cup and turned out the light.” I look over at the nightstand and frown. “Roy, why haven’t you taken the medicine I set out for you?”

“I’m fine.” He waves me off. “I just need some sleep.”

“You have a fever,” I remind him knowingly. “Plus, you’ve only eaten a single bowl of soup since yesterday, and you haven’t gotten out of bed all day.”

“Riza, I–”

“Take your medicine, sir,” I command in a low tone.

“Is that a direct order?” he jokes, sitting up on an elbow.

“Yes.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I want you to get better, and medicine will help.”

“But, Riza, I–”

“Take it, and I’ll draw you a hot bath, okay?”

“I’m a grown man,” he growls. “I don’t take baths–”

I stand and take my top off, which instantly shuts him up.

“I’ll get in with you,” I murmur. “If that’ll convince you.”

I watch him reach over and grab the bottle, pouring an unmeasured amount down his throat, before swallowing and instantly setting it aside while he coughs and sputters.

“That was vile,” he manages brusquely, wiping his mouth.

“I’ll go start the water.” I turn to leave and stop when I spot something in the hall.

At first, I think it’s Hayate, but then—

“Mommy…”

Crap. I quickly wriggle back into my shirt as I answer him.

“Maes, what’s wrong–”

“My tummy hurts again.”

I open my mouth to say something when Roy swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up, scratching a place on his chest.

“I’ve got him,” he tells me softly, walking around me to our son. “Come on, buddy.”

I watch as he bends down and scoops our baby into his arms and carries him down the hall. I follow on tiptoe and listen at the door as Roy settles him back into bed and gets a trashcan to put by the side of the bed. I watch through the crack while he checks his temperature again before tucking him in and kissing his head. As he reaches for the lamp, I slip away and go into the bathroom, where I start running the water. A few seconds later, a shadow falls over me, and I know Roy is standing behind me.

“Did he go back to sleep okay?” I ask, standing up straight.

“I had to rub his back how he likes for a minute, but yeah. He’s out again.” I watch him pull his shirt over his head, and his eyes close heavily. He’s still not feeling well even if he pretends otherwise.

“Leave the door cracked,” I tell him, pulling my own top off again and quickly shimmying out of my sleep shorts. “If he wakes up again, I want to hear him.”

“You don’t have to bathe with me, Riza,” he sighs. “I can get in and soak while you get some sleep. At least that way, you’ll be able to check on him more readily.”

“Are you sure about that?” I turn and face him, completely naked, and he blinks.

“On second thought, the door cracked should be fine.”

I bite my lip and shamelessly enjoy the sight of his bare ass as he turns to fix the door before I step into the tub.

“I like being at the back,” Roy grumbles as he walks back over to me, where I’m already leaning against the side of the tub.

“I’m going to wash you tonight,” I tell him softly. “Get in.”

He’s so big, we barely fit in the tub together. Still, he manages to squeeze his large frame between my bent knees. Immediately, I reach forward and bring up handfuls of water to spill down his toned back. He lets out a low sound, and I grab a bar of soap before I start massaging his shoulders and spine.

“I think we should have another kid,” he announces suddenly, making me drop the soap.

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs tiredly. “Just…Maes needs a sibling. And I feel like things would go smoother the second time around. Since we’ve already done it before.”

“I don’t know what you think we’ve done before,” I start, finding the soap in the water and continuing to suds up his sides. “But Maes is hardly grown. We still have a long way to go with him before–”

“I know,” he interrupts, his hand reaching around to catch mine against his ribs. “But I can’t stop thinking about a little girl.”

I almost drop the soap again, but I don’t. Instead, I shut my eyes and lean my head forward until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking, Riza?”

“I’m thinking about childbirth,” I admit.

I love my son, but I was also in labor with him for fourteen hours. And Roy was a complete wreck for most of it.

“Don’t remind me,” he mutters.

“Actually, being pregnant in general wasn’t quite the walk in the park you seem to remember.”

“Second trimester was pretty memorable,” he says in a low tone, and I feel my cheeks heat.

My hormones were a little wild during those months. We spent a lot of time in bed. Sans clothes.

“True, but are you forgetting the morning sickness? The back pains? The mood swings?”

“The cravings?” he volunteers. “No. I can recall all of that with surprising clarity. But, Riza…” He turns and looks at me over his shoulder. “Think about holding Maes for the first time.”

I do, and I hate myself because I can feel tears welling up.

“Just imagine if we had a daughter.”

I turn my cheek and press it to his back, ignoring the sticky feeling of soap against my face. I don’t tell him that I think about having a little girl all the time. At least once a day, to be honest. I can almost see her face. Hear her precious little laugh. I would give her the world. And Roy would too. She could be anything she wanted. She’d grow up feeling safe and secure with parents who believe in her and support her…

“Riza?”

“Hmm?” I sit up quickly, and wipe at the soap on my cheek.

“What do you say? Should we try for another?”

I let out a slow breath and reach for a washrag. I dip it in the water and wring it out over his shoulders and back.

“I’m open to the idea,” I tell him finally. “But for now, I think we should table it until you’re feeling better.”

He turns suddenly, splashing water out of the tub onto the floor.

“Really? You’re open to it?”

“Yes,” I repeat quietly. “But I want to give it more thought.”

He grabs me around the waist, and pulls me against his side, displacing more water.

“God, I love you, Riza.”

“I love you, too, sir.” I press my lips against his neck before pulling back. “Now, let me finish your bath, so we can go to bed.”

“Bed sounds like a good idea.”

I catch a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes, and my stomach sinks again. I hate seeing him under the weather, and I know he hates it too.

We make short work of rinsing off and getting out. When we’re both dry and dressed for bed, he traipses back into the bedroom, and I slip down the hall to check on Maes again. I’m relieved to find his fever is broken, and he’s sleeping peacefully. I watch him for a second, my heart bursting just looking at him.

I could do it again, I decide. All the discomfort and pain. Hormones that make me feel out of control. The sheer agony of forcing another living human out of my body.

For Roy? There’s no question. If he wants a daughter, I can do it. For Roy, I would do anything.

With that in mind, I place a light kiss on Maes’ forehead and walk back down the hall to my own bed, where my husband is waiting for me. He’s already asleep when I get in, so I move slowly, trying not to wake him.

I’m just drifting off when I hear him mumble my name. I look over at him at the same time his arm hooks me around the waist and pulls my back into his chest.

“I’ll do it, Roy,” I tell him softly, even though I don’t think he can hear me. “As soon as you’re better, we can start.”

I feel his lips against my neck, and I still. He doesn’t say anything, so I’m not sure if he understood me or not. And then it doesn’t matter because I’m falling asleep in his arms.

[iamthechocobabe]

Hiii! Can i request an imagine with Prompto? Considering his origins he probably would't be able to have kids, or so he thought until, ten years later his captive, his s/o tells him she is pregnant. However his old insecurities and knowing he should tecnically be sterile lead Prompto to think his lover cheated on him with Ignis, whom his s/o has grown close in the years. Happy endings but a little angst in the middle :) thank you!

I honestly love this so much. If I wasn’t over the word count so much already, I would include Ignis more in it, but I like to think that it’s not half bad. Hopefully anon will agree! I also tried to keep the gender of the baby neutral since I wanted the reader to imagine the gender as the gender they would someday want if or when they had kids. 

Tagging the senpais: @roses-and-oceans @bespectacled-girl (I know you don’t want kids but indulge me) @gladiolus-mamacitia @itshaejinju 

Please Believe MePromptoXReaderSFWWord Count: 4,116

“I’m…a Lucian" 

That face, the face that has haunted Prompto’s nights for a little over ten years. That same fucking face that was always more daemonish than it was in the memory, the face that appeared in the dream with screaming children behind him that were bred and forced into being daemonish machines like livestock as they all reached out to Prompto, begging him with their eyes to kill them. Even Prompto, with his pretty knowledgeable skills with a gun, wouldn’t be able to give all of those children in his dreams the mercy they so much deserved, as there was always so many of them. But the man, the face with the horrifically stinky breath that made Prompto’s insides rot whenever it reached Prompto’s icy cold cheeks, the face that was a monster and daemon in every sense of the word…

That monster who was supposedly his father…

Always there, in his dreams, to tell him his worst fears. 

"You’re nothing but a failure," 

Prompto stares into the mean eyes of a man so devoid of life, of humanity that Prompto feels his own soul being sucked away-but despite it all, he manages his next sentence as he always does in his dream…his nightmare. "I-I’m not one of your experiments," 

"You’re nothing but a clone-you can never possibly have a normal life," 

It wasn’t true-he was normal, Prompto could recognize that he was dreaming because memories of his recent life, ten years after being trapped in Niflheim were coming back to him in a wave of a wonderful and happy life that he desperately clinged to, even in his dreams. 

Falling in love with you. "She could never love you," Asking you to marry him. "You could never make her happy," The tears that flowed from your eyes and the smile you gave him when you said yes. "She will leave," Those same exact tears and smile when you told him you were pregnant."You cannot be her husband. You cannot be a father," 

Father…night upon night of this same exact dream and this bastard never questioned Prompto’s ability to be a father until now. The gall of this man, the man who had bred and passed his own ‘children’ around like a litter of puppies, all for his twisted and demeaning experiments. This man, questioning his ability to be a father. 

"I am a better father than you could ever be,” The words muttered are so dark and shaky from anger that even Prompto doesn’t recognize his own voice. 

“You are a clone,” 

“Shut up,” Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Prompto told himself, tried to convince himself that it was time to wake up. 

“You are worthless," 

"Shut. UP,” He knew he was dreaming-all he had to do was…wake up. 

“Failure," 

"SHUT UP,” He was screaming, but he didn’t care-Prompto looked up and opened his eyes to face the man who was one of the most evil men Prompto had ever met, save short for Ardyn Izunia…

But Verstael Besithia was gone-and in his place stood Prompto’s best friend, the person who Prompto thought could never ever betray him and didn’t have a bitter bone in his body. The person who grew closer and closer to you, the love of Prompto’s life, every single day, the person who Prompto began to dread seeing every day more and more. 

Ignis Scientia, who whispered one word that made Prompto’s heart practically stop. 

“Infertile,”

Prompto’s eyes popped open and he involuntarily shot up in bed, out of breath and looking wildly around the room. When he discovered he was back in the small two bedroom house you two had bought together, back in the bedroom with the curtains you had picked out and all of Prompto’s candid, selfies and glossy photo collages plastered in various spots on the wall, he knew the dream had ended. It was done, it was just a dream…

Prompto hears you mumble in your sleep, opening your eyes blearily to stare at your husband of four years with a sleepy smile that Prompto loved more and more every time he saw it. Your voice was deep and raspy with sleep, showing that you were barely awake, but you still managed to ask your husband if he was alright, if he needed you. 

And Prompto, knowing he could never, ever voice his concerns to you, just smiled softly and whispered words of reassurance. “Just a nightmare, babe. Go ahead and go back to sleep," 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah," 

"Wake me up if you need me,” Was your sleepy response before slipping back into the realms of unconciousness, relieved that you didn’t have to wake up for a few more hours and too tired to wonder why Prompto’s eyebrows were dipped downwards with worry. And when your breathing had returned to relaxed with a deep sigh to show that you were once again asleep, Prompto’s eyes traveled down to your swollen belly, so swollen that you looked ready to pop anyday now. And he remembers those horrific words from his dream that he’s had every night since you announced your pregnancy. 

“Infertile,”

“So, the doctor says the baby moved so it’s feet first and it’s head is upward, so we think that weird lump on the top of my stomach is just the baby’s elbow or arm," 

"Well, that is a relief-I told you it was nothing serious, but you insisted on worrying”

“Yes, yes, once again you never fail to point out how right you are,” You joke once again as you continue to fold laundry with your cellphone balanced against your ear to better hear Ignis’ refined accent through the speaker. Prompto stood off to the side, making both of you lunch as he had been given paternity leave from the Citadel since you were due any day now. Ignis, of course, had to call in and check with you two every few days to make sure you were doing alright and that Prompto was handling his responsibilities as a new father. 

And Ignis talked about that, but you two mostly spent the time talking and joking with each other about various things. The baby, that crazy hunt you two had gone on shortly after you and Prompto got married, how angry Prompto was when he heard that Ignis had let you go…you and Ignis had practically become inseparable ever since that hunt and the man was usually over to your guy’s house every other night for dinner. 

While being with Prompto was wonderful and you loved your husband to absolute death and beyond, you had to admit that it was just nice to have a friend other than Iris-Iris was sweet, but she could be a bit of a handful at times and it was nice to have someone calm and rational like Ignis to talk and comfort you when you were worried about the health of the baby. Whenever you expressed worry to Prompto, he would start panicking as well and insist on taking you to the hospital, but Ignis was far more rational, subdued and actually quite knowledgeable in health and pregnancy tips, usually spending his time calming you down. 

“And you insist on not knowing the gender?” For the fiftieth time ever since you announced your pregnancy, Ignis asked the question. You catch Prompto looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a strange look, like he was wary about something, but when you quirked an eyebrow at him he just shook his head and mouthed 'never mind’ before going back to making lunch. 

For the fiftieth time, you told him. “Yeah, Prompto and I want it to be a surprise," 

"Of course-how is the father to be anyway?" 

"Nervous, I think…he’s been very quiet for the past few months,” You glance over your shoulder at your husband, expecting him to be looking at you since his name was brought up and you had said the last bit rather loudly to hope and get him to start talking again, but he just continued to cook while zoned out in his own world. 

“Tell him I said hello," 

You place the folded lingerie that had you blushing slightly as for what its initial purpose was (hint, hint, something to do with the baby) and turn back to Prompto with one hand on the phone and the other resting on your swollen belly. "Ignis says hi," 

Sizzling water from the bowling pot on the stove is the only sound you hear from Prompto, the blonde man still staring with a dazed look out the window that sat over your sink that had a picture of you two on your first wedding anniversary sitting on the window sill. "Prompto?” You repeat yourself, but Prompto still just stares out the window, his gaze slowly moving over to the picture, one of your favorites. 

Waddling over to him, you gently pat Promtpo’s arm to get his attention while trying to fight your worry for him. “Prompto," 

Blinking, Prompto looks at you in shock as if he had forgotten you were in the room with him and coughs a little. "What?" 

"Ignis says hi…” You pause to wait for Prompto’s response, but his eyes just fall back to your first anniversary photo-why did he look so sad when he stared at that photo? “Are you okay?" 

Cobalt blue eyes still stared off into the distance but Prompto forced a fake smile at you. "Yeah, I’m fine-tell him I said hi back," 

"Okay,” You give him an odd look while saying it slowly and make a mental note to talk to him about it after hanging up with Ignis-something was obviously bothering your husband. “He says hi, too," 

"Great-I have to go, but is it still alright for me to come for dinner tonight?" 

"You know it’s fine-who else would we rely on to cook our dinner?” You giggle but out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Prompto is gripping onto the counter tightly, his jaw tightening as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” You hang up the phone and look back at your husband with a quirked eyebrow. “So, that was Ignis…" 

"I know,” Prompto practically snarls the word, causing you to be taken back by his sudden harsh tone over a seemingly innocent statement. 

“What’s going on with you?” You demanded, placing your phone on the counter and trying to get him to face you. 

Prompto swats your hand away and stares at you with a fear and sadness in his eyes, a fear you hadn’t seen since Noctis had come back from the crystal and the news he heard when his best friend was gone. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut like he’s trying hard not to think of something, he just barks “Nothing,” before shoving past you and heading out of the house. 

“Prompto?” You call his name, but he’s already slammed the door shut by the time you finish.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

The whole time you had been on the phone with Ignis, Prompto had argued with himself that he was being irrational, that his fears weren’t justified and that you would never betray him. And then his eyes would fall to your stomach and he would hear the words from his dream again. 

Infertile. 

He was a clone-he wasn’t supposed to live a long life and he wasn’t supposed to have children, based on all of the notes from Verstael Besithia. The thought of your child not being his had never crossed his mind until he saw how close you and Ignis were one night and he remembered a document he had seen while in the Niflheim facility that gave information about clones life expectancy and how they were made sterile in the process due to a faulty enzyme. Now, it was every single day when his brain would scream that the child wasn’t his…and it wasn’t long until his brain began to argue that it was Ignis’ child. 

Ignis wouldn’t do that to you-she wouldn’t do that to you. 

But the thoughts were still there and it seemed even after walking around for three hours with no real aim of where he was going, those thoughts weren’t going to leave. So, he figured he might as well head back to the house; he would probably just apologize to you, saying he was just nervous about being a father and insist that he was alright. 

You probably wouldn’t believe him, but-but he just couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face the idea that the child growing in your tummy wasn’t his and if he confessed his fears to you, he would have to face an inevitable truth. Besides, it didn’t really matter…he knew. He knew-you would probably deny it, but he knew it was impossible for him to have children. 

He knew that Ignis was the father of your child. 

And there was nothing he could ever do about it. 

Walking up to the front porch light, Prompto blinked the tears away from his eyes and forced a smile on his face. Part of him wanted to scream at you, wanted to get you to just admit it already so he could get on with his life. Fear was always there to stop him, though, so he walked in with his false promises of assurance on his tongue…

And saw you with your head on Ignis’ shoulder.

“Prompto,” Sniffling after having a tear filled conversation about why Prompto was so angry at you with Ignis, you stood up to face him. “We were just-" 

"Stop it,” The sharp tone Prompto had was gone-it was instead replaced with a tone that just seemed sad. Defeated. Like he couldn’t fight something anymore, though you didn’t know what he was fighting. 

“Prompto, what’s-” You try to talk but Prompto, with his cellphone gripped tightly in his hand, chucks it at the far side of the wall with a strength many people didn’t know he had that shattered the phone into large bits of plastic and a cracked screen. 

“Stop it,” Tears are falling freely down Prompto’s cheeks and it breaks your heart to see it and you start to approach your husband to give him a hug to be stopped by Ignis with a hand on your shoulder. Seeing the action Ignis made just seemed to break Prompto’s heart even further and he gritted his teeth. “Just stop it already…I’m done. Just admit it," 

You’re not sure how your face looks, but you’re pretty positive you look confused and worried because that’s what your body is being overcome with. Shaking your head, you blink confusedly at Prompto and tilt your head a little as if to show him how confused you were. "Admit what? What are you-" 

"The kid’s not mine," 

For the past few months, there had been a million reasons why Prompto was so quiet around you. Maybe he was nervous, maybe he was worried for your well being…a million reasons…

But you lying about who the father of the baby is was never one of them. 

Prompto didn’t need validation, he didn’t need to know the truth. Your color drained face and shocked expression said it all-he couldn’t see Ignis’ expression behind his glasses, but Prompto could see that his so called 'best friend’ was grim. It was so obvious…how could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t planned on confronting you or Ignis, but when Prompto saw how comfortable you two were, the words were out of his mouth before he realized it. 

And now the thought of staying anywhere near you two made him want to vomit. "I’m going to stay at Gladio’s," 

"Prom, it’s not-" 

"Prompto!" 

Prompto ignored both you and Ignis’ desperate pleas and stalked out of the house with tears practically blinding him-he would have walked into the road and in front of an incoming car had he not heard the far off honking of said car just as his foot reached the pavement. Luckily he stopped himself and made himself find the sidewalk before walking down it, feeling so unbelievably betrayed…his best friend. And his wife. And they were going to lead him to believe for Gods knew how long that the kid was Prompto’s. 

So stupid. Why was he so stupid? 

"Prompto, WAIT!" 

Your desperate scream that echoed off your neighbors houses and rippled through the night made Prompto stop and turn around to see you, an eight month pregnant woman who was due for labor any day now, running at full speed towards him with eyes wide and one hand on your stomach to try and balance yourself as you ran. 

Prompto was betrayed, he was hurt beyond belief, but apparently he couldn’t stop any love he felt towards you because he immediately raced to you to get you to stop running. "Don’t run, are you crazy?" 

"You-you-” You stop and bend over for a second, breathing harshly and trying to catch your breath. Prompto forced breath into his lungs, knowing that this was where you would tell him that you hadn’t wanted him to find out this way, that you still loved him or cared for him as a friend, blah blah blah. 

Far off, Prompto could see Ignis standing by hesitantly with his arms folded as you still tried to catch your breath, clearly itching to race to his new love and Prompto had the urge to go and strangle his former friend. Ignis was handsome and could get any girl in the world and he chose you. Prompto’s wife. 

Bastard. 

“You-you-” You were still trying hard to catch your breath and Prompto winced a little at how desperate you were. 

“Don’t say anything-it’s not-" 

"You. are. the father. of my. CHILD!!!!” You finally managed to tear your scream out at him and Prompto stood in shock…you were still denying it. He knew it was impossible for him to be the father of your baby, yet you still denied it. 

It was time for a wake up call. 

Saying your name harshly, Prompto practically spits his words at you from anger as he uses his hands to make gestures towards himself to prove a point. “I’m a clone. I’m sterile-I’m infertile. I can’t. have. children. So why don’t you just come off of it already?" 

"You-” You glance up at Prompto, the color still drained from your face and tears forming and he felt hope that you would finally tell the truth. Apparently not, though, as Prompto listened to your desperate pleas again. “That’s-that’s impossible, Prompto," 

"Just admit the father is Ignis!” Prompto screamed, ignoring the lights from the neighbor’s houses turning on and seeing curtains being pulled back to observe the commotion. 

“But it’s NOT!” You screamed at him, still hunched over and coughing harshly from running far too hard for someone who was as pregnant as you. Prompto told himself not to fall for your tears, but your face was genuine and your tears seemed legit as you continued to scream at him. “The father is you! IT’S YOU! I’ve never had sex with anyone BUT you since we started dating, so it’s NOT. POSSIBLE!!!" 

"I’m infertile! How many times do I have to say it before you finally get it? I know the truth. I know, okay?” Shaking his head, Prompto finally turned and walked away with the idea of Gladio’s apartment in his mind but your anguished scream made him turn around. 

When he saw you on your knees and clutching your stomach, Prompto couldn’t help it no matter how angry or betrayed he felt-he tore himself over to you and cradled your shoulders gently as you continued to sob uncontrollably, muttering words that Prompto couldn’t understand because you were crying so hard. He tried to calm you down, but felt his eyes widen when he saw the dark patch of damp clothing that appeared on your maternity pants. 

“I’ve summoned an ambulance,” If Prompto wasn’t so worried about you, he would have told Ignis to piss off, but you gripped onto Prompto’s cheeks and made him make eye contact with you. 

Your eyes were wide with fear and were tinged with red swelling, but you kept talking, trying something-anything-to convince him that this baby was his. “It’s you-the father is you. I would never do that to you, I would never hurt you like that. Neither would Ignis…please, Prompto, I can’t do this without you," 

"But I’m-” Prompto tried to argue, but your grips on his cheeks tightened as you continued to sob. 

“I love you, Prompto Argentum. I love you so fucking much, please believe me. I would never lie to you about this, this baby is yours. You’re going to be a father-I want to do this with you, I want to be a mother to your baby. Please, I’m begging you, please-" 

Prompto shakes his head and finally tries to soothe you, telling you that you were overworking yourself and that you should stop panicking, but you shake your head vehemently, the sobbing making your contractions even worse as you gripped onto Prompto’s shoulders and held onto him for dear life. "I love you-I’m having a baby with you," 

Looking into your eyes, Prompto couldn’t see any doubt, any lies in your tear filled orbs as you continued to beg…but Prompto’s thoughts went back to those stupid documents, those documents that he wished he’d never seen. 

"I was so nervous when I told you I was pregnant,” You confessed, hoping and praying he would see that you were telling the truth. “I was so nervous that you didn’t want to be a father, that you weren’t ready. But you were so happy, so thrilled and I couldn’t not be enthusiastic as well. I don’t know what I did to make you doubt that you were the father of the baby, but you are. You’re the father," 

"Alright-” Prompto tries to soothe you, but the ambulance’s sharp sirens cover his words as it pulls up. The next few minutes are a blur and before you know it, you’re loaded onto a stretcher and are being whisked away into an ambulance. 

Prompto had never felt so torn in his life…logic told him that it wasn’t possible that the baby was yours, but you seemed so sure. You were positive that Prompto was the father-so either you were determined to keep up the ruse or-

Feeling a sharp whack on the back of his head, Prompto looked in shock and a little in anger at Ignis, who stood there looking angry at Prompto as well-well, at his cheek, really since he couldn’t see where Prompto’s eyes were. 

“You are the father, you imbecile,” Ignis spat, the anger in his tone evident by his milky eyes and his furious stance. “Are you so dense that you don’t know your own wife?" 

As if to clarify how much you loved and needed him, Prompto heard you scream his name from inside the ambulance and desperately ask the ambulance techs inside the cab where your husband was. 

"If the father is out here, we need to go!” The driver of the ambulance started to get into the car and called out for the father-for Prompto-was Prompto the father? Was it possible? 

“Prompto!” Prompto’s heart broke the second he heard your desperate voice and pleading for him as he felt his resistance to be by your side break away piece by piece. “I’m-I’m scared-I don’t want to be alone, Prom, please-" 

Any resistance he felt was now shattered and Prompto practically shoved the poor techs aside so he could scramble into the ambulance to be by your side.

Small gentle cooing woke you up to see yourself in a much more comfortable room in the hospital than what you were originally in when you finally gave birth. Following the sound, you saw the baby’s father and the person you felt you loved more and more each and every day cooing at the small bundle in his arms as the baby continued to stare up in wonder at their father. 

Prompto looked up and saw you staring and he smiled at you brightly. "They have your hair," 

"They have your eyes,” you repeat what you had said when the baby had first been born and Prompto had seemed too nervous to hold the baby. When you had scooted over to give Prompto room to sit on the hospital bed with you, he seemed to be more comfortable in holding the baby then. 

“You’re the father,” you repeat again, looking for any sort of doubt or resentment in Prompto’s eyes. 

There was none as Prompto just smiled at you. “I know,”

[dotshiiki]

CoL, chpt 18

XVIII: PERCY

The Jackson-Blofis apartment wasn't spacious to begin with. Now, with nearly twenty people crowded into the living room, it seemed five times more cramped than usual.

None of the friends Percy had invited over for Christmas seemed to mind, though.

His mom and stepdad had pushed all the furniture to the walls so that their guests could sprawl on the floor, passing cookies, chips, and seven-layer bean dip around.

They were all here—Percy's closest friends, the ones who had voluntarily trudged through Tartarus with him, or travelled cross-country to get them out of the pit. Others who hadn't been directly involved, but were part of his weird extended family all the same.

On the couch, Jason and Frank were deep in conversation with Paul, looking for all the world like a triad of high school teachers. Piper, Calypso, and Rachel sat in a cross-legged circle around the two-foot plastic tree they were decorating. Hazel, Tyson, and Ella played patty-cake with Percy's half-sister Joy. Thalia, Reyna, and Annabeth were having a discussion (Percy couldn't hear what the topic was, but he caught his name occasionally). Grover and Nico were locked in a debate on—of all things—reincarnation versus rebirth.

Percy himself was competing with Leo and Will to see who could build the tallest tower out of tortilla chips. He was losing at the moment—his stacks kept falling apart and he'd already started over from scratch several times.

Annabeth detached herself from Thalia and Reyna and came over to observe Percy's pathetic tortilla tower.

'You need a stronger foundation,' she said.

'How would you do it?'

She thought for a moment, then smeared bean dip across his chip base as a coagulant. He stacked a couple of chips card-house-style, and they held firm this time.

'Hey, no fair getting help from the architect of Olympus!' Leo complained. His tower was almost a foot tall. Percy had no idea how he'd managed it.

Will sneezed. Both his and Leo's chips went flying into the branches of the mini Christmas tree.

'Hey!' Leo and Piper cried simultaneously.

'Sorry!'

Piper brushed chips out of her tree. It was practically dripping with tinsel and overloaded with shiny baubles.

Leo raised his eyebrows. 'For a daughter of Aphrodite,' he commented, 'you're not doing a great job dressing that thing up, Pipes.'

'Don't call me that,' Piper snapped. 'And what would you know about accessorising, Mechanic-man?'

'I like it,' Calypso said. 'It's colourful.' She glared at Leo, who raised his hands immediately in surrender.

'It does need more white space,' Rachel mused. 'We could do a better job with a bigger tree.'

'Does it look like a bigger tree would fit in here?' Piper spread her arms and smacked Jason's calves, proving her point.

'Well, if it's a bigger tree you need, why don't you dress Thalia up?' Will joked.

Thalia flipped him a gesture that made Grover shoot her an accusing look and reach over to cover the eyes of the two-year-old in Hazel's lap. Reyna grabbed Thalia's offending hand and laced her fingers in it. Thalia grinned ruefully.

'Sorry, Paul,' she said to Percy's stepfather.

Paul accepted this with a shrug. 'I don't think Joy's old enough to understand what that means. Then again, I'd rather she not copy that particular hand signal in public.'

'And I gave up being a tree for Lent,' Thalia shot at Will. 'Oh wait, it wasn't for Lent—it was to save your sorry ass.'

'THALIA!'

Percy laughed. Gaining back six years and resigning as a Hunter certainly hadn't made much of a dent in Thalia's feisty personality.

Joy wriggled against Grover's hands, which were clamped over her ears this time. 'Tree!' she shouted gleefully, and stomped right through the collapsed chip towers and bean dip to Piper, Rachel, and Calypso's trussed up masterpiece.

Annabeth snatched up the plate of blue chocolate chip cookies—only one was left—before Joy could trample it, too. Percy beat Leo to the last cookie and stuck his tongue out at his friend before popping it into his mouth.

'Real generous host you are,' Leo grumbled.

'Hey, all's fair in love and blue cookies!' Percy grinned. 'I'll get more,' he promised, taking the plate from Annabeth. He kissed her on the cheek and got up, brushing crumbs out of his lap.

His mom was bent over the oven when he entered the kitchen.

'You should come join us,' Percy said.

'I will,' said his mom. 'Once this last batch is done.' She eyed the empty plate he set on the kitchen counter. 'Looks like they're a hit.'

'Your cooking's famous,' Percy assured her. 'Thanks for letting us have the party here.'

'You know your friends are always welcome,' said his mom. 'And Paul and I love having you home. Especially after you've been on a quest.' She shook her head. 'Every year I think maybe this will be the year that you stop scaring me with your adventures, but it never ends, does it?'

Percy shrugged. 'We can always hope. I'm sorry I made you worry again, Mom.'

His mom made a little pffft noise and waved her hand dismissively. 'It wasn't your fault. And you're here now. You've always come back.' She reached up to muss his hair. 'Every time, you come back.'

He shifted guiltily, remembering the disastrous Iris-message a few weeks back, when he hadn't a clue who his family was. He was so sick of the way stuff kept coming up—it wasn't just his life it disrupted. There were his friends and family, too, who always got caught in the crossfire of his unpredictable life. He'd hurt so many people over the years, intentionally or not.

His mind flitted to Jessica. He hadn't really thought of her since their catastrophic date, which now felt like something from another life. He wondered how she was getting on with her goal of living a life uncomplicated by the gods. Maybe he should have invited her here as a sort of apology. Then again, given her distaste for her mythological heritage, hanging out with a group of first-generation demigods—not to mention a satyr, a Cyclops, and a harpy—probably wasn't her idea of fun.

'Do you think your life would have been better without all this mythological shit—er, I mean—stuff? If you didn't know it existed?'

'That's a tough question, honey. Do I ever wish things had been simpler? Yes, of course. And I won't deny that the mythological shit,' she winked at him, 'is complicated. But it's easy to blame the gods when really, that's just life. Life's complicated. You don't have to be a demigod for things to keep happening to you.'

He remembered then that her life had been pretty crappy even before she'd ended up a pregnant single mom with a child who had a big target painted on him. Still, could her life have been better if she hadn't met Poseidon, if her path had taken her straight to Paul and Joy without the detours around a delinquent son and an abusive husband?

'I wouldn't give any of it up,' his mom said firmly. 'No matter how hard or painful it was, meeting your dad gave me one of the best things in my life—you. And I wouldn't trade you for anything. Nothing worth having is easy, Percy.'

Percy knew she was right. If there was one thing he knew from all the battles he'd fought, it was that they made him appreciate what he had so much more. The friends he'd made—so loyal that they'd voluntarily descended into a land beyond hell just for him. Those friendships had been forged in quests and tempered by trials into a bond as powerful as the celestial bronze of Riptide. Their last trudge through Tartarus had only strengthened it further.

And he thought of Annabeth. He could hear her laugh rising above the chatter in the next room. He'd known forever that he wanted to build something permanent with her. Now, more than ever, he wanted to seal the deal. His eyes landed on the thin, gold band on his mom's ring finger. If his memories ever got stolen again, he wanted official proof that could remind him of what Annabeth meant to him.

His mom seemed to read his mind. 'I think if you don't pop the question, she might very well ask you.'

'We haven't really talked about it. I mean, we're only sophomores, and I don't even know if I'll make it to graduation, with all the stuff that keeps happening—'

'But you'll get there,' his mom promised. 'You know, when you were a kid, I used to tell you that you could do anything. And you survived everything your world threw at you, you passed high school, and you found a whole family sitting out there.' She waved her hand towards the living room. 'Look at how far you've come, Percy.'

Again, she was right. The future stretched out in his imagination: college graduation, Annabeth in a wedding dress, babies with black hair and grey eyes.

Percy wasn't Rachel; his visions didn't predict anything. But he could work towards making them come true.

The oven timer went off with a ding! His mom pulled out the cookie tray and refilled the empty plate.

'Nothing's impossible, Percy,' she said.

Percy looked down at the full plate. It was his mom's enduring, edible reminder that little miracles could and did happen.

'Cookies can be blue,' he said with a grin.

'Exactly.'

And together, bearing the full plate of blue cookies, Percy and his mom made their way back into the circle of love and family in the next room.

THE END

And that’s a wrap! The end of this massive project that got way out of hand. I actually wrote this epilogue twice. The first version involved Percy and Sally and a long angsty conversation, but it refused to come together and I realised ... well, I needed everyone together for the final curtain call. So here they are. Thank you for sticking with this story. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. I certainly have. And with that, I have to say one more enormous thank you to my betas, @supernaturally-percyjackson and @preciouschildrenofolympus or their help in whipping this monster of a fic into shape. They were an amazing team to have and I am so grateful for all the feedback they've given to help make this story better! 

Also, if you haven't yet, go check out @preciouschildrenofolympus‘s amazing art for the story here and here!

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