#kid!fic

It’s so hard trying to find platonic from new fandoms yet all you find is explicit stuff…

Could we have more of it?

i also love this AU, very fond of it <3 mpreg my beloved. thank you for the prompt!!!

send me prompts for the gc couples outside of hollanov, let's show them some love <3 (hollanov prompts are welcome as well but will be answered later)

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"Oh wow, Shane and Ilya are having another baby." Scott held out his phone.

Kip squinted at it, looking at the pregnancy announcement they had sent into the group chat: a photo of Emilija clearly screaming at the camera, wearing a t-shirt which said 'middle child behavior'.

"Wow," Kip echoed, "I thought they were done?"

"Apparently not." Scott turned his phone back around, looking at the photo one more time.

"If you ask me, they're not stopping after three, either," Kip said, a little bitchily.

Scott raised his eyebrows at him. "You think?"

"Yeah," Kip stirred some honey into his tea. "They like it too much." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Pregnancy fetish."

"Kip!" Scott scolded, unable to hold back a laugh.

"It's true, mark my words. They'll get to like, four or five."

"No." Scott shook his head. "That's crazy."

"Yeah. Let's not do that." Kip set down his mug, giving the baby monitor a glance. "One and done."

Scott said nothing for a second, then let out a very belated, "Yeah, of course."

"Scott." Kip leveled a very serious gaze on his husband, something in his stomach clenching. "I'm not doing that again. I love Ollie, but my pregnancy was horrible."

"No, of course, I know that!" Scott said quickly, holding out a hand.

Kip wasn't exaggerating.

He had spent the entire duration of his pregnancy throwing up, so much so that their doctor, at some point, gently brought up termination. He'd had to spend the last few weeks of his pregnancy under almost constant medical supervision, and had hemorrhaged during birth.

All in all, not a pleasant experience.

"I think I just wish you could do it again, but without all the bad stuff," Scott said contritely.

"I'd rather not do it again than risk it," Kip said seriously. "I'm not like, I don't know, perfect Shane who can just pop out one baby after the next and bounce right back and be fine, no problem." He knew it was unfair, but the trauma of the whole experience still sat deep, and it felt... unbalanced that other people had it so easy.

"Hey." Scott stood up, and quickly wrapped his arms around Kip, holding him. "That's not what I meant at all, my love."

Kip leaned into him, letting his husband hold him, and tried to bite back mean tears burning in his eyes.

"All I want," Scott said seriously, "Is for you to be happy. That's what matters most to me, you and Ollie. You know how scared I was when you hemorraged, I don't ever want to do that again, either."

"I know," Kip whispered.

"And whatever you say, goes, yeah? It's your body." Scott pressed his lips to Kip's hair.

"Okay," Kip whispered, biting his bottom lip.

"I love you so much," Scott added softly.

"Love you, too," Kip sighed. "Sorry for... being a bitch."

"Nah, I like it when you're mean about our oh so perfect friends," Scott told him with a soft laugh.

Kip covered his shaky grin.

The baby monitor rustled, then, a moment later, they could hear Oliver babble.

"I'll get him," Scott said, heading for the nursery.

Kip sat down, took a deep breath, and drank his tea. He'd wait to text Shane for now.

A few minutes later, Scott returned with Oliver, who looked rested, happy and freshly changed. When he saw Kip, his entire little face lit up, and he let out a happy baby squeal.

"Hello, bubbah!" Kip held out his arms, and Scott airplaned Oliver over to him. "You're so cute!"

"Say good morning mommy, I had the best nap," Scott said, putting on a little voice for Oliver.

"That's wonderful, baby." Kip took Oliver, and hugged him close, kissing his fat little cheek. He smelled so, so good, and when he blinked up at Kip with pure, unbridled love in his green-blue eyes, Kip's hurting heart softened and turned to mush.

Their perfect little baby.

"You know," Scott said, starting to prepare Ollie's bottle, "Thinking about it, I think we nailed it on the first try."

And that's a wrap.

So many thanks to @alchemistc and @screamlet for hockey proofing (they made this so much better, and make us sound so much more like we know what we're talking about).  And to @ziusik for Russian proofing.  Any mistakes or misunderstandings are all on @cecilyv and me. We really appreciate the help.

Chapter 1 - Summer + Preseason

Chapter 2 - Fall

Chapter 3 - Winter

Chapter 4 - Spring

NEW - Chapter 5 - Summer

Eight years and two Cup runs into his career, Shane knows what it takes to reach the finish line. To hoist the Cup over his head, to celebrate with an undying sense of relief that we did it. It’s over.

It hasn’t been an easy year — they squeaked through as the first wild card — but they’ve got everyone back. Healthy, for degrees of healthy at the end of the season. Everyone’s nursing something.

He told Ilya that he couldn’t think about them, the plan, the future – had to concentrate on the team, the game; he could only think as far as the first round.

It’s a lie.

He tries. The playbooks replace the parenting books. He meditates, visualizes the results he wants to see. Sets his meal plans. Preps and cooks food for the week. Goes out with the boys in the name of team cohesion. Desperately tries to ignore their unceasing attempts to pick up a girl for him. Ignore their language. The shit they say when the Admirals get knocked out in four games.

It’s a relief when Ilya texts him / I said yes to give you space to focus, but tvoy syn needs good night moon because your boyfriend also needs his beauty sleep tonight /

Reads Sergei Good Night Moon three times before he drops off, and then falls asleep himself, phone line still open, listening to Ilya’s faint snores that mean he’s nursing the tail end of a cold. Plays better in practice the next day than he has all week.

Firstly, im not convinced they'd EVER have kids. But if they did, I imagine they're the last of their friends to do so. Of all of the princess alliance, they're the ones we know of with direct experience with childhood abuse. I cant imagine it'd be a quick process to untangle all that

I dont see either one of them carrying a kid, I feel like they'd either adopt or surrogate. Strong leaning towards adoption

I think they'd pick a magicat kid to adopt, easy

Catra insists she doesnt care what child they raise, but ultimately, it's adora who brings up the small population of magicats on Etheria, and Catra's unique understanding of what its like to be one. Adora is hiding her nefarious plot to see Catra napping with their magicat baby because that would be fucking cute.

They're both anxious wrecks throughout the entire decision making and then later the actual adoption process. Adora launches into overplanning mode and Catra is grumpy for weeks on end. Glimmer considers killing both of them more than once

Out of their friends and acquaintances, many of them question Catra's readiness and ability to bond with the kid, to the point that they fail to check in with adora about her anxiety

This causes a small argument, when Catra gets frustrated about one too many check ins and "are you sure" conversations. Its resolved when Bow finally asks adora how she feels, and she breaks down into tears in relief to finally confess all her doubts

They're worried about being good parents. They didnt exactly have a good upbringing, and neither of them really had parental figures to model off of. In fact, they dont know how a nuclear family is even supposed to function

Its not until Bow smiles and asks if they really think they're on their own that Adora realizes that none of her friends expected her to be perfect, and that the kid will be fine no matter what

Adora also regularly spirals re: what happens to the kid if something happens to her and Catra? Catra puts a stop to that quickly by just naming off their friends

When they hold their baby for the first time, Adora cries. Catra doesnt, but she sniffles suspiciously a few times

During the transition between preparing for a baby and parenthood, its actually Catra who picks up on and has an easier time with the natural caretaking and protective instinct. Adora takes longer to find her motherly groove.

Once everything clicks, Catra has to fight Adora for more time holding the baby.

The exhaustion is insane.

The number one issue they have with the baby during the infancy and toddler years was teething, closely followed by the claws. Teething was to be expected. But as it turns out, kittens are sharp. Catra's skin is a little tougher and a bit better suited to resist claws from a young magicat, but Adora spends a solid six to nine months covered in needle-thin scratches that usually drew blood.

They have a parenting pact: catra handles the care taking schedule. Making doctor's appointments, scheduling school activities, homework. But adora is solely responsible for socializing with the parents of the kids friends. There are multiple reasons for this, most of them involving the war. But the other one is that exactly one time Catra took the baby for a socializing event as a toddler, and she came away having invented three new curse words and caught herself a permanent ban from "mommy and me discover music class" in the village outside of bright moon palace.

Adora is fine with this, but the kid quickly decides its embarrassing to have either of their parents around their friends because everyone is so starstruck by their moms.

Adora is gutted the first time her baby picks out their outfit all on their own. Catra is excited for one less decision they have to make, considering it took them fifteen years to stop wearing a post-war version of their Horde uniforms.

Catra refuses to go to meet the teacher night, until one teacher tries to teach her kid something clearly wrong and stupid. Its the only time she ever threw her weight around as the queens advisor in front of her kid.

“Boldheart,” he said into the phone, attention still mostly on the board. Maybe it needed some string. Or at the very least some of those flames Nimona had drawn and cut out for him to add.

“Mister Boldheart, this is Principal Conroy from Gloreth Elementary School.”

Oh no.

He didn’t quite manage to keep in his sigh.

“What happened this time?” he asked. He refused to say ‘what did she do now’, if only because Nimona usually had a reason for whatever chaos she wrought. Like trying to free the pet gerbil from ‘his stinky, tiny prison’ or punching a kid who made fun of her because ‘you couldn’t even get two normal foster parents, you ended up with two foster dads’.

Of course the school hadn’t done anything about the other kid. He was a legacy at the private school, and he’d ‘just been stating facts, after all’.

“It appears Nimona bit another child.”

Well, that was new.

I’m keen to read Your Best Friend, Blaine Anderson by stut_ter, but on AO3 the images say ‘content not viewable in your region’. I just wondered if anyone has a PDF they’d be willing to share that includes the images of the letters?

Thanks!

Here's the PDF. Enjoy! ~Lynne

1/4 chapters, de-aged Robert Robertson, 10k, read on AO3 here.

Teaser:

Chase was in the process of watching his 7th call to Robert ring out dismally when the increasingly irritating jingle gave way to a new and exciting beeping noise. Unknown Number flashed at the top of the screen and he stubbornly mashed his finger on the green symbol below it, slamming the phone up to his cheek. 

“What the hell you want?” He hissed down the line. From across the office, Blazer was waving at him unsubtly, eyebrows furrowed in the most explicit gesture of anger he’d ever seen on her usually mild face. He wafted her away, silently explaining another failed attempt.  

Robert was an hour and a half late to work. This was beyond abnormal; even if he was dragging his heels and still snoring, Robert was always on time. If anything, he was early. He’d gotten deep into the habit of arriving an hour or two before he was due in specifically so he could take advantage of the unusually empty gym. Seeing neither hide nor hair of him was seriously fucking concerning.  

“Uh, is this Chase Wright?” 

“Yes. Damnit.” Blazer looked increasingly annoyed, and she seemed to be making a threat, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was. “What do you want?” 

“This is Officer Foreman. I have a… Robert Robertson here with me? He’s asked you to come and pick him up from the station.” 

Chase froze. “What?” He tried to express to Blazer that he had a lead, but she just squinted at him, confused. “What the hell is he doing there?” 

“I don’t know, sir. The kid won’t tell us anything. He’s a little roughed up but he’s not hurt.” 

“Ain’t much of a kid.” Chase grumbled, already digging around the clutter on his desk in search of his car keys. The pressure to finally get a car had kicked in with his arthritis diagnosis; he could no longer just run any distance he pleased. “He’s meant to be at work.” 

“Uh, Mr Wright? That’s… not legal.” 

Chase paused again. Blazer was marching over now, winding through busy dispatchers and office staff with her mouth already open like she was about to chew him out. He waved her off hastily, trying to warn her not to interrupt.  

“What’s not legal? Employing a man? Ask him why he can’t drive his own damn self back from the station!” 

“Well, he’s ten, sir. Ten year olds aren’t allowed to work.” There was a long pause, then an unsubtle cough. “Or drive.” 

Hands on her hips, Blazer slammed to a halt, face expectant. Chase silently counted down from ten in his head, then took a long, calming breath.  

“Let me get this straight. Robert Robertson is at your police station, and he is visibly ten years old?” 

Blazer startled, anger evaporating in a blink. 

“Um, that’s right. So, when can you come and get him?” 

“I can come and get him right now.” Chase ground out, leaving no room for Blazer to argue. She still looked a little stunned, her eyebrows nearly peaking over the top of her mask.  

With a sharp goodbye, Chase hung up, shoving his phone deep in his pocket and draping his coat over one arm. To her credit, Blazer didn’t actually try to stop him, but Chase paused before he left nonetheless.  

“I’m gonna bring this little shit in. In the meanwhile, take a look at that Tempo motherfucker.” 

Without even complaining about the blatant lack of respecting the chain of command, Blazer nodded and turned back towards her office.  

Tempo was a recent up-and-comer, as well as a perpetual pain in SDN’s ass. Her power was strong enough to put her in the big leagues, far bigger than Robert and the Z-Team had to worry themselves with, but Chase had a special and unique hatred for her.  

The sound of her voice—allegedly angelic, though Chase was sceptical—could literally sap years of a person's life from them. Despite being roughly sixty in any official documentation, Tempo could retain eternal youth by stealing time away from her victims.  

So, Chase’s distaste was personal. First of all, he did not want to give up more years than he already had; secondly, he would literally chop off an arm for the chance of reclaiming a good few years of his youth. Every time he went to work, the first name he checked for in the databases was hers. He had dreams of seeing a big red ‘CAPTURED’ stamped next to her name.  

There was a reason Chase had thought of her first though, far beyond whatever personal issues he had with her. As far as anyone knew, there were no other troublemakers in Torrance who had the ability to fuck with time. And, logically, if she could take years away, couldn’t she also, potentially, give them away? 

Why she would, Chase didn’t know. Why she chose Robert, why she chose to make him a child, all of it was a mystery, but it had Tempo’s name written all over it no matter what.  

Chase stewed on this mystery all the way to the station, where he promptly put on a grumpy-yet-fragile old man performance so that a nice young officer would personally escort him through the raging crowd. He shook the fellow off the moment he spotted a horribly familiar head of auburn hair.  

It was attached to a little head, connected to a little body, perched atop a desk. Little Robert Robertson swung his legs, head bowed as he waited for someone to pick him up.  

It was definitely him. At certain points of Chase’s life, he’d seen that dork’s face more often than he’d seen his own, and he knew it like the back of his hand. A small part of him had been distantly hoping that it was all some elaborate joke the Z-Team had set up to try and get him in trouble at work, but this image swiftly dashed those dreams to smithereens. With a sigh, Chase straightened up a bit and beelined for the desk.  

The officer who was sitting at it, presumably the aforementioned Officer Foreman, poked his head up at Chase’s approach. He muttered something indistinguishable to Robert, who spun around in a snap- 

And promptly looked right past Chase, searching for a familiar face which had aged right out of existence. Chase sighed, shaking his head, and stepped up to cuff Robert’s shoulder.  

“Kid, you know just how to hurt a guy's feelings.” 

Chase watched the flow of emotions on little Robert’s face as he put the pieces together. Confusion, shock, recognition, back to confusion; he hurled himself into Chase’s arms, nearly knocking him right off his feet, then peeled back just to glare up into Chase’s face. “Are you really Chase?” 

“As if there’s some other motherfucker stupid enough to drive out here just to pick your dumbass up!” Chase grumbled, bapping the side of Robert’s head. The kid ducked just a moment too slow to dodge it, his reflexes not quite honed just yet.  

His reaction suggested that his mind, too, was that of his ten year old self. The possibility that this was regular grown-up Robert shrunken down would have been favourable. He still would have been able to go to work. This, though, made the situation far more difficult.