your chubby, perfect daughter can't help but copy the walk of her beloved dada.
1.1k wc // fic directory // why was the gif above the only one i could find of him walking, ik he's been filmed walking alone robby get out of here // leggy collection
anon submitted: Chubby picking up jacks slight limp because she loves her daddy and adores everything he does so she starts imitating his walk // i forgot to post it with the submission. sorry anon but here you go!
You’re sorting Chubby's toy food into a basket when Jack comes in from his garage gym with the familiar hitch in his walk from his prosthetic after having worked out too hard. The limp’s just a little more obvious than usual.
Definitely enough for you to glance up and notice with a tease ready.
“You overdid it this time.”
Jack shrugs, which is a yes in your book. He lowers himself onto the couch with a groan, and your baby, who’s been making her stuffed rabbit do backflips, lights up with the whole of her body when she sees him.
“Dada!”
Jack softens pretty immediately, because when hasn’t he for her? No matter how tired he is, you think he always will, and you smile at the thought as he leans forward.
“Hey, baby.”
Chubby gets up to her feet and toddles toward him, and you’re about to go back to organizing her play kitchen, but you pause at the first few steps she takes. Something about her toddle is wrong.
…She’s limping.
Or…trying to.
It’s not really that convincing of an attempt, she seems too little and too unused to it for that. Still, her small foot drags by a few inches as she makes her way to the couch.
You just have the question of why she’s doing it.
“Oh. Oh my God.”
But you look at who she’s walking to, and your heart swells with the answer.
“Hey, what—”
You guess Jack’s not as fast as you in catching on, because when he notices Chubby’s “limp”, he’s off the couch. All the softness in his face is gone.
It seems to have been replaced by his jaw-clenching fatherly fear that heartens you like crazy.
“What happened?”
Jack’s baby, your baby, stops in the middle of the floor, but only to blink up at him before taking another dramatically uneven step. He’s crouching now.
He says your name as its own question, and you have to press your palm to your mouth to stop yourself from smiling.
“I think she’s okay.”
“She’s limping.”
“I can see that.”
“Why are you smiling?”
Okay. So, you’ve failed, but only because you’re now trying not to laugh while Chubby starts the walk all over.
“Jackie, Dad, Dr. Abbot—take a closer look at her walk.”
Jack stares at the way she restarts by walking back with her usual, perfect toddle. She does it just to make her shoulder dip again, and her foot slide across the hardwood.
“...What the hell are you doing—”
He only looks away to eye his own stance. It takes him a moment to think about the last thirty seconds, the way he came into the room.
The slight drag in his step that came along with him.
He looks back at her proudly reproducing it.
…Jesus fucking Christ.
Chubby smiles all her teeth.
“Dada walk.”
You lose the laughing battle as well at that. Jack just kneels there, the way he had to relearn with a metal leg a long time ago, and felt fucking stupid for at the time.
Face it right now. Your kid’s not coping out of mockery, Abbot. Not even really out of curiosity, you think. Just…love.
Does that kill you?
“Is Dada’s walk so pretty that you just had to try it on for yourself?”
Chubby nods once and simply, like it’s common sense for her to do that, like it’s a right for her to turn Jack’s stomach inside-fucking-out with endearment and an aching and loving pain and the disbelief that he can be loved so perfectly and ten million other things.
Well. Ten million and one when she walks into his body with the same limp, her tiny brows furrowed.
He’s not proud of the way it takes him a while to find his voice.
“...Baby.”
His baby stops with her belly against his knee.
“She’s radiant with success. Are you radiant, pretty?”
“Dada walk.”
She says it again, but this time, she puts her hand on her hip and, God, Jack’s assuming that’s for emphasis.
"Well, you're radiant with Dada's walk too."
Demonstrating his scars like she’s happy to have learned a family skill. Pass on anything else.
“Mommy, Dada walk wifth me.”
“...I don’t think it’ll be as cute as when you do it.”
You wonder if, in all his attempt to keep his heart covered in the midst of this, Jack knows he’s not covering his face. You’re not sure if he’s about to cry, but that’s what it looks like to you. A painful bob of his beautiful throat and twitching brows—
“No, baby.”
He takes Chubby in his arms so quickly and kisses her cheek. She ‘mmmmms!!’ very loudly.
She rests her rounded hand on his.
“No?”
“No. You don’t need to do Dada’s walk.”
…You can never know what Jack’s thinking, but you watch the way his face presses briefly against your baby that you gave him, his head against her shoulder, and you can take a few guesses.
All of them make you want to love the insecurity out of him, because Jack Abbot, Dr. Abbot, Jackie, Dada—he deserves to think of himself as perfect as his daughter does.
“You don’t have to copy me.”
He’s carried the thing with the fact that it’s a part of him and that it’s sometimes a wound as much as it can be nothing but a part of him. He’s lived years feeling people look at the limp before they look at him. Enough damn years resisting pity, resisting becoming a symbol of the people who can be good at things despite the lack of limb.
But baby's noticed his walk as Dada.
How has his heart not fallen out of him yet? How are there more ways for his heart to be ruined after you?
Well. She’s your kid as much as she’s his. He should’ve fucking guessed.
Chubby wriggles in Jack’s arms.
“I same.”
He’s had to spend so much of his life trying not to let the limp or metal leg or lack of one made of flesh be the first thing about him. Now he has to survive a mini, even more of an oddball version of you, cherishing those things as Dada?
How could he even come close to deserving this life with you, kiddo?
Jack swallows.
“No, sweetheart. You do your walk.”
Chubby frowns.
“No Dada walk?”
“You don’t need Dada’s walk.”
Chubby blinks.
When she decides to listen to him, what she does is the only thing Jack finds humor in since she started to mimic him.
She wiggles away from him and takes off back to her rabbit in a perfectly normal toddler toddle.
You lower yourself beside him, watching her with him.
“She wasn’t making fun of you.”
He twitches his mouth into a pained half-smile.
“I know, kid.”
“She loves all of you. I assume that’s the whole problem.”
He laughs, finally. Because of the irony of you saying that, Sleepy? Hilarious.
Heya!!! :) can you draw Gourdy seeing Cosmo as a huge inspiration and as a father figure?? Ofc you don’t have to or you can take all the time you need!! No rush!! Anyways, love the art!!
Well, since this intrigued me and you asked so nicely…
FOUND FAMILY FOUND FAMILY!!! I never considered this before your ask, but I see your vision. Quite fond of the idea of Cosmo and Sprout co-parenting Gourdy…
I genuinely don't understand what's wrong with dieting. Having a normal BMI is healthy. Of course you can be a little bit overweight for many reasons and that's also okay, but 300+ lbs is just too much. (yeah, bmi can be a little bit inaccurate due to muscle mass, but if a person doesn't work out, no way their excess weight is something other than fat)
It's unhealthy and if something is unhealthy it's also can't be beautiful. It's just how attractivness works lol.
I don't support any kind of eating disorders, but as a part of society you should be productive to it and not a burden to health-care.
I'm not trying to offend anyone and if I did I'm sorry. Its just a really interesting topic for me and I want to discuss it
then allow me to shed some light on the subject. I have a wealth of resources on my home page for you to explore and educate yourself with. I’m not interested in discussing this with you because quite frankly, you are not ready to have this discussion until you’ve begun deconstructing your anti-fat bias and ableism. first, please familiarize yourself with the studies complied on dieting, intentional weight loss, and the relationship between size and health.
dean winchester being the type of man to push his thumbs into the dimples of your lower back to see u arch ur back for him and it makes ur knees go weak 😵💫
Mmmm yeah he is
He's fucking into you deep from behind, the pressure making your back start arching like a cat.
"C'mon, pretty. Jus' relax f'me," dean said, voice slurred with pleasure. His thumbs found the dimples of your back, gently pressing the buttons to guide you back to where he wants you. "There you go. Just gotta relax and take it."
The rough pads of his thumbs soothed at the indented skin, the friction feeling intimate enough to compete with the drag of his cock.
"Dean," you whimpered, the softness of it all making you melt into the mattress.
"I know, baby," he said, pausing his thought to place kisses all along your spine. "Just feel it."
Tears brimmed at your lids, not because of any pain or hurt but because of the tenderness. His, Dean's, huge, strong hands splayed out around your hips, the knuckle caught in the divot in a way that made chills skate all along your body.
"You're my perfect fuckin' girl, you know that? Every last dip and curve. And it's all fuckin' mine."
