Drabble number 47- it's not coming off. RafaelxReader he spills something on their baby and gets super frustrated. Congrats on 900❤!
bahahaha I love this… This’ll be the last one for today :). Three more to come tomorrow!! And THANK YOU so very much- you and everyone else!! <3.
“Rafael?” You tapped lightly against the glass of his door, moderately curious about why it would be locked. “Rafael, what’s going on in there, you said you’d meet me downstairs about ten minutes ago…”
He jumped, surprised so much time had already passed. Sincerely, he planned on this little jaunt being quick- all he had to do was grab his briefcase from behind his desk.
But, of course, the phone had rang. So, naturally, he had placed Lillian in the middle of the tabletop, so she could sit up amidst the desk accessories and he could keep an eye on her. Which, he had done, at least until he needed to dig some information out from his desk drawer for the District Attorney…
It had only been a few seconds, long enough for him to open the bottom drawer and flip through a couple papers- but he heard it all. The clink of glass, the toppling of a bottle, the coo of sweet Lillian, then your knocking at his door…
When he glanced up, however, he was horrified to find his adorable little white-lace-and-ribbon-clad princess… covered in blue ink.
Why the Hell did he have an inkwell? When did he get that? How long had it been there, just waiting for the prime opportunity to ruin his day?
Oh… Oh God… Oh God no…
“Shh, shh, Lillian- it’s okay…” It was, right? He was just trying to (so very delicately) wipe ink off of her feet- good Lord, it looked like the tiny appendage was suffering from a smurf-virus. And her little dress, the one you, his darling doting wife, had so carefully chosen for her to wear this evening…
Well; it was no longer an ivory dress. And your daughter was no longer entirely pink and clean, as she had been when you brought her to his office.
The baby cried, Rafael thought he’d be doing the same soon, and you started knocking louder against the window. “Rafi, what’s going on? We’re going to be late.”
From the safety of his solitude, he rolled his eyes- he was actually very well aware the three of you may not make it in time for the gala to begin. Why had he agreed to bring the baby to a gala? Somewhere between Olivia’s insistence and your never-wavering confidence, he’d been convinced it was a grand idea…
But, now, he had a beautiful little ink-blot of a daughter, crying and only spreading the damning ink all over her skirt, staining more ruffles and skin.
New question- who the Hell dressed babies in white? That’d be something you two would have to discuss in marriage counselling…
“Rafael,” your voice had lowered, both he and the baby froze when the Motherly tone signified trouble- “Rafael, if you don’t open this door by the count of three, I’m getting the key from Carmen’s desk… and you don’t want me to get to three.”
No, he considered when exchanging nervous glances with Lillian, he certainly did not want to know what would happen if you made it to three.
Shit- Rafael quickly snatched Lillian up from the desk, leaving the mess she’d made for tomorrow-Barba to worry about. He spun in a tight circle, trying to think- think- think- think… what his defense for this?
“… Two, Rafael…”
You were going to kill him, he knew it. This was the first ‘real’ gala he’d suggested you attend with him since the birth of Lillian; you had gone out and gotten your hair done earlier, had both your AND her dresses dry cleaned (again, he questioned the purpose of dry cleaning a baby dress, but he didn’t care enough to argue), and here he was… making you late and dealing with an easily avoidable mess.
When he heard your shoes coming back for the door, he snatched an old blazer from the bureau- thankfully, he kept extra clothes for emergencies such as this, but usually he was only making a mess of himself… For now, though, it would have to do.
Before he managed to even take another breath, you shouldered your way through the door, glaring and obviously annoyed… however, you hadn’t expected this sight…
There, your husband stood, holding beautiful Lillian out at arm’s length- with an oversized blazer wrapped around her.
His prosecutor’s face was on, stoic and blank, as if there was absolutely nothing odd about a tiny girl wearing a multiple-hundred dollar suit jacket. “Are you ready to go?” Rafael simply cocked his head to the side, tried his best to keep her hidden as much as he could within his embrace. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry-”
If you had any less restraint, you would have likely began to shout or scream: thankfully, you could maintain your cool demeanor, even though you couldn’t help but notice an itsy-bitsy blue toe poking out beneath the cloth.
“Rafael… why is she,” before he had the opportunity to twist away, you lunged for them, gave the camouflage a sharp tug so it would open up… and reveal your beautiful little cerulean princess.
Your hands flew to cover your mouth, Rafael winced and bit hard on his bottom lip. “It… uh… it’s not coming off…”
Tears sparked in your eyes, and your shoulders bounced- no, no, no; your poor husband crossed the room to you, left multiple apologetic kisses on your reddening cheeks. “Mi amor, I’m so sorry, it was seconds- I didn’t even know I had an inkwell, and it’s staining, and… I’m so so sorry…”
Instead of bursting into a crying fit, as he expected, he was assaulted with a royal roar of laughter…
‘Oh God’, he thought to himself while clutching poor Lillian to his chest, ‘She’s finally lost it…’
“Rafael, you’re horrible,” while still laughing, you brushed away the uncontainable tears of humor, and diligently left the room long enough to pluck new clothes from the diaper bag. “Do you really think I’d put our daughter in a white dress and not bring a backup outfit?”
… Okay, one less for the marriage counselor you two may not need anyway.
“You… You brought another dress?” Rafael let the blazer drop to the floor, unblushingly took another look at her chubby, blued legs. “But her feet, mi amor, she got it all over her legs-”
You paused, hiding your face behind the tiny crimson dress you had brought along in case a change would be needed. “Sweetheart, that’s why they make tights,” while he held her in the air, you slipped black leggings over her otherwise bare feet, left kisses on her forehead before taking her from him so you could unbutton the dirtied gown. “Nobody will ever know, we’ll just change her real quick and hurry there- nothing to worry about.”
… Nothing to worry about. Of course. Not like he had been worrying for the last five minutes, already…
Finally, Rafael let out a sigh of relief, and shamelessly lay his forehead against your shoulder. He should have known you’d be better prepared, would have been able to fix his mess-ups, just as you always were able to do.
“I love you,” he whispered, like an apologetic child, with wide-eyes and a plumped bottom lip. “You’re a Miracle Mami, you know that?”
Now dressed and ready to be the belle of the ball, Lillian squealed, pat lovingly at his tired face with her palms.
“Oh trust me,” you confirmed before gifting him a final kiss, “I’m well aware…”
Drabble: number 4, " ...let's roll the dice " RafaelxReader, maybe discussing having a baby together, they're married and worried about how it will work out with their jobs and such? Also, congrats on 900 ❤️
*wobbly bottom lip* oooooooomg awe… and thank you so much!!
“I saw Noah yesterday,” despite how innocuous it sounded- having his eyes glued to you and awaiting a reaction certainly made it feel more important than it seemed.
Now didn’t quite seem the time for small talk: with you trying to shove documents into a briefcase while simultaneously grabbing bites of breakfast. “Oh did you?” Interestingly enough, he nodded eagerly your way upon acknowledgment. “I bet he’s getting big, it’s been awhile since they’ve been over.”
He pursed his lips in thought, then dropped his gaze to the coffee cup in front of him. “He used to be so small, you know? I remember when he was just a newborn-”
Memory lane for someone else’s toddler? You didn’t really have time for this this morning, but it seemed to mean something to him- “I’m surprised you recall his infancy so fondly, you were scared of the baby.”
Rafael’s jaw fell; “I was not!”
“You refused to hold him,” it was rude to talk while managing a mouthful, but the opportunity was too good to miss even if you were biting onto toast to keep it from falling. “You were terrified of him, you thought you’d break him.”
His brows furrowed together, trying to recall the memory in his mind’s eye. “Well they’re just so… precious, you know… so small, so pure.”
The way he spoke of babies- it actually caused you to pause. Had he ever really mentioned little children before? You couldn’t think of a time he had, but now it seemed to be the only topic on his mind. “I suppose, when they’re not in the way.”
His face- when he turned to catch your stare again, he looked as if you had somehow pained him. “In the way? I think children are brilliant, why would they be in the way?”
“Since when did you find brilliance in tiny, dependent people?”
“The thought of adoring a child is ludicrous to you?”
This conversation had taken a serious turn you certainly hadn’t anticipated. A quick look at the clock- you really didn’t have time for this right now. “I… I didn’t say that,” what were you even defending, and why did he suddenly care what you thought about children? “I just-”
While you fumbled over an apology you didn’t think was warranted, Rafael stood from his chair. Quickly, he slammed shut the folder he’d been so busy with and stormed past you, not even bothering with a goodbye or his typical kiss for your cheek.
Left alone, and rather bewildered, you suddenly found time: to sit, to stare across at where he had been sitting, to breathe and consider the odd conversation…
Near his barely-touched breakfast was a calendar, with red circles surrounding a date you had already known to be anticipating: His birthday. Another year older, another year wiser… and apparently, another tick for his biological clock.
… Was your dear husband seriously considering fatherhood?
Instead of heading towards the door, as you knew you should be, you wandered through the corridors of your little condo until you finally found him- sitting, in his office chair, trying his best to look distracted with a pretentious novel.
“Rafael;” patience was prevalent in your words, and you hoped your hands laying atop his shoulders could convey the compassion in your heart. “Rafael- why are you suddenly so concerned with children?”
Your stoic man, able to maintain the chaos of a courtroom, slumped back into the cushions. “I… I honestly don’t know,” he lay his head to the side, until his cheek could rest against your knuckles- you lift your thumb to graze his face. “I suppose seeing everyone around me with their kids, watching them get older… while I get older.”
At least this bridge was getting crossed. “Darling, you’ve never said you wanted to have children.”
“I didn’t know I did,” he reached up, curled fingers around your wrist so he could gently tug you around the chair. “To be honest, mi amor, I didn’t know a lot of things until I found you-” laughter, more like nervous chuckling, but you’d take any happiness you could. “I never wanted to be in love, it was all so messy… I certainly didn’t want to get married-”
“Really?” You perched on the arm of his chair, leaned back just enough so you could shoot him a hopeful smirk. “But you fell into husband-hood so well, it’s like you’re a natural.”
“It was easy,” lazily, he drew little circles over your pencil skirt with his fingertips, “I still remember, the moment I first saw you, I wanted it all. You were like a light switch, took all the dark drearies that I lived in and made it bright, showed me the way.”
You combed his hair back, carded through the strands with a careful hand. “All I’ve ever wanted for you was happiness, Rafael.”
“I know,” he nodded, finally found the bravado to look you in the eye, “and all I’ve wanted was to give you everything. To live, to love, to grow with you.”
To grow. He hadn’t quite mentioned that mantra before.
A baby. Of course, there was an extra bedroom in the home, full of light- it’d make a darling nursery. Your man, patient and forever kind- he’d really make a wonderful father. What if, instead of stilettos and the squeak of leather shoes, there were little toes padding over your hardwood floors? That Lucy girl, the Lieutenant’s babysitter- what if she had room to take on another charge sometimes? What if, of an evening, instead of having your noses in case citations and depositions; you two read stories to a teeny tiny bundle of joy?
“Mi amor?” His voice tore you from the rambling list of hypotheticals you had somehow found yourself so preoccupied with. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything, it’s a silly thought,” while you blinked past the haze of switching gears, your precious husband took your hand up in his, pressed a kiss to your skin. “We’re too busy, it would be too much, I must just be being silly-”
To be honest, you had never considered children. Yet for some reason, right in this moment, knowing he had an affinity for the idea, and picturing the domestic paradise that could come with itsy-bitsy spider songs and eency-weency hands… well, the leap of faith didn’t seem so deleterious anymore.
“Rafael,” you rocked off from the chair, shifted so you could crouch before him instead. Taking advantage of his hold on you, you lifted his hand, so you could nuzzle your cheek against his palm. “My love, maybe… maybe a baby would be quite darling… do you think it’d have your eyes?”
Between the two of you, always, there was all the love the world could ever offer- more than either of you ever thought existed. It gave new reason to your soul, new strength in your bones… if the two of you were already so perfect and resplendent; imagine the new life you could bring into the world, together?
Rafael’s lip trembled, he bit back tears the best he could and leaned forward, so he could leave a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks. “The gene pool’s a gamble, mi amor, there’s no telling precisely how beautiful our baby could be…” longingly, desperately, he gathered up both of your hands in his, brought the bundle of fists to rest over his rampantly beating heart. “Mi Corazón, if by any miracle you’d want to bless us with a miracle… let’s roll the dice…”
These kisses were meant for this exact moment: your lips found his, and he tangled his fingers in your hair while cradling your face. Hundreds of times, you two have kissed, yet this precious peck shared at this very moment- it felt like the most glorious affection you’d ever received.
“I’d love that, Rafael… you’ll be the most brilliant Papi there ever was…”
His tears escaped, fell against your cheeks as well as his; and the smile you had been searching for finally reappeared; “Te amo, mi amor… I love you so.”
Are the drabbles still open? If so Nevada x reader and "Go on tell me, tell me you don't love me"
oooooo we’re going angsty here *cracks knuckles* & PS: THANK YOU SO MUCH!! <3 :)
warning: rough handling of reader, cursing, pseudo-movie-spoiler…
“You’re heartless, you’re a brute-” this couldn’t be true. Why would anyone spread such awful lies? Further- why the Hell wasn’t he denying the accusation you had hurled his way?
Nevada Ramirez wasn’t one to back down: ever, really. Yet here, standing in the middle of his club during the daytime, stumbling over his cheap leather boots- he seemed too weak or drunk to even bother to keep standing.
You wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily; “They said you ordered it, said you made the call-” damningly, you pointed at him, crossed the room in record time and slammed your hands against his chest. The pressure caused him to take a few steps back, but beyond that, he acted as if nothing had happened. “I’ve always known you were scummy, but this? A CHILD, Nevada?”
Never before had he laid a hand on you. No, you’ve seen him hold guns to people’s heads, you’ve watched him bust lips and crack skulls against cement: but this was the first time his fists had ever come for you. Thankfully, be it a flash of contrition or the fear of your retaliation, he managed to reel himself back before landing any blows.
“You don’t know shit,” he insisted, more shouted than anything, and shamelessly prodded a fingertip against your sternum. “We haven’t spoken for days, then you come in here like you own the damn place and raise your voice like you know what the Hell I’m going through!”
What he’s going through? “YOU’VE been avoiding ME: What about that boy’s family? He had a Mami, a Papi- Nevada, you handed out a plethora of death sentences when you ordered he be tossed off the damn bridge.” You wouldn’t back down, not now, not after learning what he’d done. “Why would you do that, Nevada? Can you imagine loosing someone that innocent, that precious, so close to you-”
His nostrils flared, you’d obviously struck a chord of some sort. The restraint he typically maintained seemed to fall to the wayside, and he advanced on you too quickly for your appropriate reciprocation. Trying to run backwards failed you- you tumbled over your own shoes and he bent at the waist to lean over you.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW, PRINCESA?” So close, so loud, red faced and breath smelling of liquor: he was too much, too all at once, you could only whimper and recoil. “I take care of you, I protect you- what the Hell do YOU know about loss?” He spat, it splattered across the cement and you shifted the opposite direction. “I have my reasons, you weren’t supposed to find out about this, so drop it and go home before I toss you to tracks, too.”
A threat? How had this dissolved so quickly, “Ne-Nevada, what is the matter with you?” Now, your voice lowered, a feeble attempt to drag him back to his place as your lover. “You’re nothing like the man I love, you’re nothing like you-”
Something snapped, you couldn’t quite place it, but the look on his face gave him away. “Go on,” he dropped down, so his knees fell on other side of you and you were trapped under his weight. His thighs fell to your sides, you desperately splayed fingers against his jeans to try and shove yourself away from beneath him. “Tell me,” he was howling now, animalistic and deep: it broke your heart, the pain in his tone- “Tell me you don’t love me, then you’ll be free and you’ll never have to bother with me again,” his palms came to your shoulders, and he rattled you up, demanding a reaction, “leave me be to wallow with El Diablo, I’ve sold my damn soul down the river in the name of revenge, let me fuckin’ rot-”
Wetness fell over you, dripped along your face, fell in little pools of saddness atop your chest- tears. Nevada was crying, bawling really, and every inch of him began to tremble. Your fear dissipated, and instead of combating his manhandling with a battle of your own, you reached for him. Afraid of an assault, Nevada flinched; but you pressed past his hesitation, to cup his face in your hands.
“Nevada, mi amor,” at the mere sound of your sweet voice, the one he’d deprived himself of since the incident in question, he softened. Like a dog in desperate need of attention, he nuzzled his face into your palm, sighed longingly and had to catch himself with his hands on the floor, on either side of your head. “Nevada, this isn’t you, you know I love you-” your thumbs went to wiping away his tears, he lifted a leg so you wouldn’t be trapped any longer. “Why, what happened? Tell me, please-”
The King crumbled, fell to the ground alongside you and wept against the cold concrete. Of course, going horizontal on the hard floor wasn’t ideal, but at least now he seemed to be on your level. You rolled to your side, wrapped arms around his wilting shoulders, drug him across the gap between the two of you so he could bury his wet face into your throat.
“My nephew,” he spoke against your skin, pursed lips to leave kisses atop goosebumps, “he’s gone… he’s dead, because these stupid fucking kids-”
You tried to hush him, ran your fingers through his dark hair, ignored the pain in your spine from laying on the ground- but he persisted with the confession.
“I wasn’t thinking, I haven’t been able to sleep,” he sniffled, leaned back just slightly, still welcoming your embrace. “And all the goddamn money, I owe people that shit, they want cash not rain checks…”
“So if you don’t get the money back,” you traced his jaw line with worried fingertips, “they’ll come for you… and you’ve already lost your nephew…”
He shut his eyes, tight, struggling to manage through the reminder of his poor sister’s pain. “It was kids, goddamn kids, taking mi familia away, giving kingpins a reason to take even more of who I love from me-”
You pressed your lips to his: the kiss was sloppy, sad and forced, but at least he didn’t have to recount his horror any longer. Maybe you could never understand how he felt, you hadn’t experienced such a close loss before, but he was suffering. Perhaps the punishment didn’t fit the crime for the poor boy who had to pay a life for a life…
but, your man needed you, and if he was going to make any decent decisions in the near-future: he needed a chance to rest.
“Nevada, let’s go home,” you were whispering now, he whined pathetically at the heavenly suggestion- he hadn’t dared to come back to your two’s apartment since he knew he crossed the line. “You get sleep, we’ll go from there, you need time to grieve: before any more lives get stolen away.”
“I’m so sorry, mi amor, what have I done?” While you worked to rise to sitting, he fell to your lap, hid his shame in your skirt. “I’m broken, I’m awful, I’d never… typically, I would have never…”
“Nevada, come on,” you cradled him best you could, said a silent prayer in hopes any God worth it’s salt truly had forgiveness: for him, for you. “Nevada, I love you… let’s go home.”
Greetings, Tumblr! To the immediate left of the photo is @marsincharge and to the immediate right is @nukirk and together, we’re the co-creators of the #TheBlackout, the team behind the Shorty Award Nominated #Blackout and #Blackoutday! For the uninitiated, #Blackout is a tri-monthly call-to-action with a mission to celebrate and (re)define Blackness. It takes place on the 6th of every third month starting from March 6th! That means it happens on March 6th, June 6th, September 6th, and December 6th.
We’ve been getting ready for our second anniversary on March 6th and are excited to announce that on Feb 6th starting at 2 PM EST / 11 AM PST, we get to have our turn at what Tumblr likes to call “Answer Time”! We’ll be answering questions about the hashtags and the Blackout’s goals and future. You can ask us anything at anytime, but we’ll be doing the most that day, so hit up our ask box here!
Congratulations to my love @thatsthat24 on winning the Shorty Award for best YouTube comedian!! It has been such a joy to watch you in the process of transitioning from Vine (RIP) to YouTube and I couldn’t be more proud! Your creativeness, dedication and kindness precede you and I’m so glad you could get the recognition that you so rightfully deserve. Here’s to many more!