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What defines soft can be as easily changed as the word itself suggests. It is because of this, that a definition all of your own may be applied.
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"I think we deserve
a soft epilogue, my love.
We are good people
and we've suffered enough."
- Seventy Years of Sleep #4.
(n.k)
Amanda scrunches her nose, eyes shut tightly, as something tickles her face. She swats it away but hits nothing, and so she relaxes back into her pillow.
"Mama, are you awake?" a little voice questions against her face.
She grumbles, keeping her eyes shut as her daughter's hair hovers over her cheek again.
"Mama?" the girl tries again, pushing herself closer for good measure. "Wake up. It's raining."
Amanda's eyes are blurry when they open, coming into focus as Tallulah breathes hotly against her face.
"Five more minutes." she begs, hopeful, as the girl pulls back far enough for her to breathe without sharing the same inhale.
"It's really raining." Tallulah emphasises, this time wandering over to the window. "Look!"
Amanda winces as the drapes are thrown open, feeling Olivia shift beside her. Her hand slides behind her on the mattress, running along Olivia's stomach as the brunette seemingly stays asleep.
"Alright," she mumbles, pushing away from the mattress and running hands down her face. "I'm up."
She pulls the drapes closed as Tallulah skips out of the room, watching Olivia's heavy breathing beneath the duvet for a few moments before she follows.
"Can we have pancakes for breakfast?"
"Yeah, sure, kiddo." Amanda shrugs, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail.
Tallulah plays with the bath toys as Amanda pees; she's used to this lack of privacy. Between their little boy on the way and his constant disregard for Olivia's bladder there's barely ten minutes without at least one of them in the bathroom, or all three at once as is normal during a weekday where Tallulah usually clambers into the shower with Amanda as Olivia brushes her teeth or pees three times an hour.
"Tally, do you need to go?" Amanda asks her daughter as she pulls up her sweatpants.
Tallulah shakes her head, running the toy boat along the edge of an empty bath.
She washes her hands at the kitchen sink, watching the rain outside their apartment window. Tallulah was right, it really is raining. Not heavy like an oncoming storm, but enough to mist the glass and make the outside world a little grey.
There’s a trail of cornflakes across the dining room table, spilling onto the floor in a way that her mind could perceive as a waterfall. The milk is under the chair, but Tally’s little fingers seem to have not been able to undo the lid - a small thing that she is thankful for. Amanda sticks the back of her hand against the carton, it isn’t warm. She takes a deep mouthful straight from the container and tries not to think of Olivia scolding her.
"Mama?"
"Yeah, baby?" she asks, turning in place.
Tallulah is tugging at her shirt, holding a fistfull of blue taffetta in her other hand.
"Help please?" she asks, thrusting the dress-up in her mother's direction.
Amanda smiles, taking the princess dress and helping the little girl into it. It bunches in certain places, tight around her pyjamas and crumpled with use (once, she wore it for over a week without taking it off), but she can't deny that it's still sweet.
"Thank you!" Tallulah says gleefully, wriggling from Amanda's grasp to go fetch her cardboard crown.
She tries to make a game out of picking up the cereal, but the three year old bores easily and leaves Amanda to do most of the work. She finds the butter container, lid pried off and beside the record shelf. There’s a fistfull of butter missing that explains the smell to Tallulah’s breath; she shakes her head. Kids do weird things, she’s come to realise. She’s glad that Olivia is always there to assure her - although, one time, a few months ago, Tally had shoved a stone so far up her nose that they needed a doctor to take it out; that time they both went a little crazy. Otherwise, she thinks, they’ve had a pretty stellar time, the three of them as a family.
Four now. She amends in her head with a smile.
Amanda yawns, rifling through their pantry for pancake ingredients. They're usually a Sunday thing, but she'll make an exception for this mediocre Wednesday.
Tallulah brings all her blocks to the dining room table, putting her best efforts towards making what Amanda guesses is a castle, or the empire state building, or just an impressive pile of blocks. Maybe she's biased, but she thinks their daughter is pretty spectacular.
She's made these pancakes a hundred times, a hundred times of squishing the banana with a fork, at least forty with Tallulah's help, a hundred times of stirring through the chocolate chips that never last a day after being opened, but there's something that never gets old about it.
"That smells so good." Olivia mumbles, breathing in the skin at the back of Amanda's neck as she watches her pour the batter.
This is that something.
There are spaces of them that don't quite touch with her too-round stomach, but Amanda always feels like they're skin to skin in these moments.
"Tally asked for pancakes." she smiles, catching Olivia's lingering kiss with her own lips.
"Mm, I told you she's a mind reader."
"I sure hope not." Amanda chuckles suggestively, winking at her wife as she pulls away.
"Just make the-" she stops, turning to make sure their daughter isn't paying attention."damn pancakes." she finishes, under her breath, as Amanda smirks.
"Yes, ma'am." she grins, flipping one of her creations.
Olivia swats her arm before promptly rushing away to pee.
She never thought they’d do it again, have another kid. Tallulah had been a miracle, born three days shy of Christmas and healthy as could be. When she thinks about their son on the way, she prays it goes as smoothly. She prays that she can be just as good a parent, she prays she can be better.
"Tally, pancakes are almost done!" Amanda calls, hearing a tower of blocks crashing around the table and floor.
She shakes her head, flipping the last pancakes onto a plate.
Olivia meets her at the table, smile almost as big as their daughter's as Amanda sets their pancakes down. Most of them are round, but she's made sure to include a large T-shaped pancake, two love hearts, and a whale that Olivia is not at all amused about when it is loaded onto her plate.
Tallulah's curled pigtails bounce as she chews, crown haphazardly on her head.
She watches Olivia reach across the table to wipe a drop of syrup from their daughter's chin, her hand easily manoeuvring between them. The brunette catches her gaze, meeting it for a few moments before she blushes like she did after they first kissed.
"You," Amanda begins softly, resting her chin in her hands. "are much too beautiful to be my wife."
Olivia scoffs, blushing all the same as her own hands wander easily over her stomach.
Tallulah pushes her plate forward, mostly finished, with as much finesse as a three year old can possibly manage - which is not a lot of you were wondering - and says:
"I think we should dance now."
Olivia stops chewing her pancake, swallowing as they both look towards their daughter.
"Don't you think we should finish breakfast first?" Olivia suggests.
"No." Tallulah says, simply.
Amanda is about to interject, explain why breakfast before dancing is an - albeit new - rule in their house, before Tallulah stands regally upon her chair.
"I am queen Tallu-yah!" she announces, adjusting her crown. "And I want to dance!"
Olivia stifles a giggle, both at their daughter and at Amanda's open mouth.
"Okay." the brunette agrees cheerfully, shrugging her shoulders as she pushes back from the dining room table.
Tallulah jumps down excitedly, the chair wobbling precariously as she lands with a heavy thud.
Amanda scrapes pancake remainders all on to one plate as Olivia searches for a record catching their daughter's whisper in her ear with curiosity. When it starts playing their daughter dances immediately, singing out of tune and jumping so hard that the cardboard crown bounces straight off her head without notice. Olivia dances too, with as much abandon as their daughter, beckoning Amanda over with ridiculous hand gestures until the blonde concedes.
"Hey there, little lady, may I have this dance?" she asks Tallulah, tilting an imaginary hat in the girl's direction.
She grins toothily, taking Amanda's hands in her own. Her mother lifts her up, balancing the girl on her hip as she begins to dip and spin.
Amanda loves this, loves these days that can mean nothing and everything all at once. She makes sure to watch Tallulah's face, count her eyelashes, her freckles, she tries to guess which tooth will fall out first, what she dreams about - penguins currently from what she's talked about - and what she'll want to be when she gets older. Then she stops. She's thinking too much, Olivia is watching her in that funny way she does when she know. She knows.
"Tally," she whispers, breathing in the side of a rosy cheek. "I'm gonna dance with your Mommy for a bit, okay?"
"Okay." Tallulah agrees, squealing as Amanda gives her a final spin and sets her down.
When she offers out her hand, Olivia takes it easily; almost like they've practiced it. She guesses, in the last few years together, that maybe they have. With a few moments of quiet protest on the brunette's behalf, she twirls the mother of her daughter much as she had with their child in question only minutes before.
"You were thinking too much." Olivia whispers, laughter tickling her throat as Amanda pulls them together, back to chest.
"How could you tell?" she jokes back weakly, resting her chin on Olivia's shoulder and her hands overlapping the other woman's on her swollen stomach from behind.
"I do the same thing." she tells her, as if reading her mind.
"We're quite the pair." Amanda muses, running her thumbs beside Olivia's.
"Think we can do it all again?" she asks quietly, her nose brushing Amanda's cheek as she turns her head.
Amanda contemplates for a few moments, appreciates the second-time-round curve of Olivia's belly, watches Tallulah dancing with her ragdoll lion. She can still hear the rain beating a rhythm outside, wondering if they'll take a walk in the park later and maybe splash in some puddles. Maybe.
Olivia is still watching her, running fingers up Amanda's arm.
"I think," she manages, urging her wife to turn within her encompassing grasp. "that we can do anything as long as we're together."
And it’s true. Truer than true. Together they’ve been cops, friends, lovers, and mother’s, she thinks by now that’s just about everything they’ll ever be, forever trading upwards.
Olivia's lip tilts, chestnut hair falling in loose tendrils from her lazy-day-bun.
"You've gotten soft," she accuses playfully, shaking her head as Amanda feigns having been insulted. "I love it." she whispers. "I love you."
Soft. Amanda thinks as they kiss. If soft is turning any Wednesday morning into a Sunday afternoon, if it's pink gumboots at the door, if it's a wife that can't stop wearing her shirts, if it's a daughter that draws pictures of them as a family, if it’s a son on the way, if soft can be defined by that warm feeling in her chest? Then Amanda is soft. Amanda loves soft. They can do it all again, they can do it softly.
marisharg answered your question:Cabenson and/or Rolivia shippers: Is anyone...
I want to do this so badly, but I don’t care about other fandoms /:
That’s why I’m putting feelers out for other SVU fans. Last year I wrote a Fosters fic and had a lot of fun, but the year before I was matched in a fandom I was a lot less familiar with and only put down to meet the requirement. Hopefully if enough SVU fans sign up it won’t be an issue!
