#he needed to be swaddled and cradled so badly in this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainrot4me · 2 months ago

Note

After reading the pregnant hcs, what type of parent do you think the creeps would be after the baby is born? Seriously LOVE your work and have a wonderful day!

✦ . JEFF THE KILLER

Unhinged but trying (badly).

Jeff didn’t want a kid. At first. But the second that tiny baby grabbed his finger with those impossibly small hands?

“Okay what the fuck, why is it… cute?”

Still terrible with crying. He’ll hold the baby at arm’s length like, “Why’s it making this noise again??”

Surprisingly very protective. You’d have to pry that baby from his cold dead hands. Literally.

The baby starts laughing when Jeff pulls faces, and suddenly he’s doing it more than killing. Not soft, but for them? Yeah. A little.

Constantly tells them dramatic stories of how he “killed a guy for looking at mommy funny.”

✦ . TICCI TOBY

Anxiously attentive, very soft dad energy.

He’s twitchy around the baby, scared he’ll hurt them, but he loves holding them to his chest so they can hear his heartbeat.

You catch him humming to them when he thinks you’re asleep.

Stims with baby toys. Chews on the baby’s teething rings more than the baby does.

“No, you don’t get it. This o-one’s high-grade silicone. Look at the bounce.”

You’ll catch them laid out on the couch at all times, the baby laying flat on his chest while they zone out at the television. They’re both equally focused on the kid’s show that is playing.

Insists the baby sleeps in the room with you two and never lets them out of his sight.

✦ . EYELESS JACK

Gentle giant who’s surprisingly intuitive.

Jack is terrifying to most people, but babies don’t care about eyeless faces. This one just giggles when he sniffs them.

Knows everything about baby nutrition. “Don’t feed them that. Their pancreas isn’t ready.”

Stitches up tiny plushies when they break. You find him sewing by lamplight, brows tense in concentration.

Carries the baby in one arm like they’re made of glass. Absolutely walks them around whenever he’s going like a little daddy-baby mission. Takes mid-day forest walks every time they get fussy.

“They smell like you. It’s… grounding.”

Dead silent killer at night. Baby’s never once woken up from noise. You suspect he paces the halls when they cry just to make sure they’re okay.

✦ . MASKY (TIM WRIGHT)

Trauma-ridden but loving. Dad mode: activated.

Tim never thought he’d be a father. His first instinct is to panic, to baby proof every inch of the mansion. But once that baby looks at him like he’s their whole world? He melts.

Obsessively schedules feeding, changing, naps. “Consistency keeps them stable.” Maybe he needs that more than the baby.

Paces with them at 3am when they cry, murmuring,

“It’s okay, little one. I’m right here, we’ve got each other now.”

Snaps if anyone gets too close to you two. Territorial in a predatory scary way. Your shared bedroom is off bounds to anyone else.

Holds the baby against his shoulder like it’s the last safe place on Earth. Tucks his arm under their legs and pats their bottom with all the gentleness in the world.

✦ . HOODIE (BRIAN THOMAS)

Emotionally constipated but incredibly present.

Doesn’t talk much, but the baby always calms when Brian holds them. They recognize his steady heartbeat and silence.

Knows how to swaddle like a pro. Could put the baby to sleep in two minutes flat.

Doesn’t let them near screens. Is weirdly intense about it.

Not a fan of nicknames, but you catch him calling them “bug” when no one’s around. You’ll usually find him sitting on the swing on the front porch, cradling the baby against his chest and humming them to sleep.

Gives quiet little smiles when the baby grabs his hoodie string or sneezes while asleep.

✦ . KATE THE CHASER

Hot, scary, soccer mom energy.

Wears the baby strapped to her chest while doing combat training. You scream. She rolls her eyes.

“It’s good for their inner ear balance.”

Genuinely loves snuggling them when no one’s around. Will never admit it.

Gives them little plush knives. “Gotta start young.”

Hair always smells like baby shampoo because they nest in it.

Tells them bedtime stories where you and her are always the good guys. You cry. She pretends not to notice.

✦ . BEN DROWNED

The most unserious dad—until it counts.

Teaches the baby how to press buttons on a controller before they can crawl.

“They’re gonna speedrun ‘Ocarina of Time’ by the time they’re three. Watch.”

Surprisingly soft-spoken with them. Talks like they’re a sensitive little thing.

His laptop wallpaper is the baby’s ultrasound. He keeps that thing like it’s a trophy and shows off to anyone willing to look.

Yells at you to come look when the baby does anything even slightly new.

Pranks the baby by glitching his voice through tech. Baby just giggles. It’s adorable and a little cursed. You’ll hear his crackling voice coming from the talking stuffed animal he bought them.

✦ . CLOCKWORK

Tough but incredibly maternal.

Picks the baby up one-handed like it’s nothing. Still coos and kisses their nose.

Teaches them to be strong early on. “You crying? That’s okay. Wipe your tears and try again.”

Doesn’t baby them emotionally, but fiercely protects them.

“If anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll make them count their teeth while I pluck them out of their head.”

Lets them paint her nails while she rocks them in her lap.

Reads bedtime stories with the most expressive voice. The baby is obsessed with her. Little hands always messing with the clock face in her eye.

✦ . LAUGHING JACK

Unholy blend of terrifying clown and doting parent.

Makes balloon animals that the baby never fails to pop, then remakes them again.

His lullabies are oddly morbid but calming. “This little piggy got revenge~!”

Has a toy chest that makes actual circus music. You’re suspicious when he starts to pull out cotton candy and buckets of popcorn.

The baby laughs way too hard when he does slapstick. LJ gets fake-injured just for that laugh.

Also? Wildly protective. No one lays a finger on them without facing his wrath.

✦ . SLENDERMAN

God-tier calm and terrifyingly competent.

You didn’t think an eldritch horror would be a great dad. You were wrong.

Creates the quietest space possible for the baby. No noise, no chaos, just warmth and stillness.

Rocking them in his arms is the only time his tendrils look gentle.

Baby doesn’t cry around him. It’s like they feel his presence and just… stop. It’s infuriating.

You swear he whispers things in a language you don’t understand to help them sleep. Nonetheless, it always works.

꩜ .ᐟ

429 notes · View notes

nicnak20 · 8 months ago

Text

Some strings attached: Father Charlie;

*After Dr. Charlie Mayhew delivers a baby, he becomes very attached to the newborn- wanting to be a father himself so badly, he finds it difficult to stop thinking and caring over the baby.*

Dr. Charlie Mayhew stepped into the bustling corridors of the hospital, a place that had become both a sanctuary and a haunting ground for him. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of monitors enveloped him, yet it was the soft coos and faint cries echoing through the halls that held him captive. For Dr. Mayhew, the hospital was no longer just a medical facility; it was a vivid tapestry woven with memories of newborns—the delicate touch of tiny fingers, the warmth of fresh swaddles, and the hopeful gaze of parents cradling their newborns. No matter where he turned, the essence of babies lingered in the air, an omnipresent reminder of life’s fragility and beauty, intertwining his professional duties with a profound, almost overwhelming nostalgia. As he navigated the vibrant landscape of healing and heartache, he couldn't shake the feeling that the spirit of these infants had intertwined with his own, urging him to reflect on the delicate balance of beginnings and endings that defined his life as a doctor.

But even more so... the frail opening of his own delicate and animated grail of fatherhood was what lined those memories of squeaky baby squeals and cries with fluffy eyes of adoration in Dr. Mayhew.

*************************************************

The beaming lights illuminated the room. Surgical lights shined and spotlighted every corner of the room. Dr. Mayhew couldn't deny how rattled he was hearing the screams and cries of the laboring woman that was being wheeled in by gurney into the room. Having the nurses place the young woman's legs into the stirrups, Dr. Mayhew draped a drape over her lap before pulling her gown up over her belly. "Lady's name?" He asked, shifting his body to one of the nurses writing down something on her chart.

"Susie, Susie Miller." Scrubbing in and snapping on gloves as the nurse tied up the back of his surgical gown and mask, Dr. Mayhew took a deep breath and readied himself to deliver another baby. Getting in between the woman's legs, he gently instructed her to push. Her breaths were shaky and her eyes darted all over the room- breathing rapidly through drumming contractions that beat into her every two minutes. "I can't! I can't!" She cried. Dr. Mayhew looked into her eyes; brown eyes of his staring back at her with soppy compassion and empathy.

"You're doing just fine, Susie. Just take deep breaths and on the next contraction, give me a deep push!" As Dr. Mayhew was guiding out the little head, a jolt of Susie's muscles try to shove the baby back inside of her- pushing in rather than out. A slight furrow appeared over the doctor's brow, but dismissed it as just a pain reflex. It was only when he needed to firmly remind Susie that she was giving birth and needed to push with all her strength, did it wake her enough to bare down and guide the rest of the baby's body out. As Dr. Mayhew craddled the infant for a moment before placing his little gooey slick bloody body over his mother's belly. He waited for a moment- hoping the new mother would craddle the child up to the hollow of her breasts. But, Susie just stared down at the baby; her mouth still- not breaking a smile for a minute. Her grasp was loose and weak like the baby didn't run the worry of imaginably sliding out from his mother's sticky hands.

Dr. Mayhew bit his lip before sitting up and letting the nurse snip the cord before she took the baby to his incubator to be checked over. He didn't question why Susie didn't hug her baby, even for a moment. Hoping to ignore it, he turned his attention towards the little infant baby who was still crying from the little glass box. Looking into his vivid blue eyes- as rich and deep as the midnight ocean. Lips as pink as a blossom flower and skin softer than a pillow.

"Hey little guy..." he cooed, "welcome to world, sweet boy." Rubbing his belly, careful of nicking the stub of his umbilicol cord. Flashing his kind smile to the baby, Dr. Mayhew cooed at the little baby, his feet fighting against him to stray from his side. He let himself stand back before taking one last glance at the baby before excusing himself from the delivery room.

***************************************

"Baby Elijah," the nurse cooed, "Susie named her baby after one of her bedt friends from middle school." Dr. Mayhew smiled before jotting down the rest of his notes. "He's a decent size- six pounds and five ounces." He smiled. Dr. Mayhew turned to one of his nurses. "Elijah in the nursery yet?" The nurse nodded. "Yeah, too to it so well... he fell asleep almost immediately after I set him down in his incubator."

A flutter tickled inside of the doctor's heart. He found himself wandering the halls until he found the maternity ward. The nursey was pale and with a soft spoken blue painted within the white. Yellow flowers danced around the walls while a hue of fragile golden light hovered over the little infants as they snored away. Tiptoeing and sizing himself between the walkway of the little boxes, he found Elijah. Swaddled and wrapped in a soft light cloud blue blanket matching with the little white hat- thin pink and blue stripes running around it. Dr. Mayhew just stared at the little baby. He listened to his soft snoozes. His little lips laying flat and his little eyes closed up- unaware of the doctor's presence looming over him.

He restrained himself from reaching his big hands out to hitch his finger under Elijah's little hand. To him, it would be like a switch that turned on; two wires connecting and making whatever was broken to resurrect itself. Dr. Mayhew could feel the little sense of his soft little touch grabbing and latching onto him. He had only gotten a glimpse of his surface when he rubbed his little belly. He wanted to kiss that soft squishy belly- kiss his chubby rosy cheeks and swoop him up in his arms and give him the biggest squeeze he possibly could. Elijah was like his little gift more than Susie's. It was Dr. Mayhew who wanted to craddle the little baby in his arms and stare at him in his little crib, tucked away for the night. The stars would twinkle down and the moon would be smiling on them. A soft little lulliby would hush his baby to sleep and he would be safe. Elijah would be safe and sound and Dr. Mayhew would be his.... his father. The one who loved him more than how he already did now.

But of course.... he loved all the little babies that were born. But this one was special. Maybe because he felt his raw body in his own hands. But then that would leave all the other children that he delivered in that hospital.

Dr. Mayhew loved kids- it was no question to all the other patients, nurses and other doctors in the hospital who would see the young doctor bringing in therapy dogs, toys, planning puppet shows for the pediatric unit. All of these gestures- stemmed from his deep love of children- but planted from an even deeper root.

Children of his own. All he wanted- everything he wanted. The career he had, the up scale home, the reputation.... but all that was missing was the children. He loved the thought of a house full of imaginative little rascals all fluttering up and down the halls of the house. Their happy faces and refreshing laughter. It would add glimmer to his rather dull days when he lost a patient, or was scolded by a chuffy senior doctor who simply didn't want to make the time to be a good mentor. His life would never find the meaning of satisfaction without holding a soft warm healthy baby in his arms. Elijah held that image perfectly like he was born to be his- without being his exactly.

Susie was the solid pole that stood in the way; someone he couldn't stand to be like with his children. His empathic side could reason that there was indefinitely a reason why Susie rejected this new human. He could even garner sympathy without losing his sight. And he knew that it was just that, that could've hung him for his fascination with Elijah. Swallowing hard and pulling himself, yet again from the little infant, Dr. Mayhew settled himself out of the room; a painful glance back toward the sleeping baby before gently and quietly closing the door.

*************************************************

Maybe it's because I want children, he thinks to himself. Taking another sip from his scotch, he festered on it. Elijah symbolized a piece missing inside him for so long, and now it was fighting back; refused to be stifled down any longer. Dr. Mayhew would be lying to himself if his desire didn't grow day by day. The more babies he delivered, the more children he treated. Mixing the scotch around in his hand, Dr. Mayhew thought about Susie. How blank her eyes were when Elijah was placed over her body. Not one form of loving touch was traced over the little infant's body. Not one finger so much as tickled his little chin, or cooed to him. It made him squirm around the cushions of his couch.

Dr. Mayhew pictured her sitting all alone in her hospital room ignoring her fussing baby as she stared out into the window wondering how the hell did she get into the situation....and how she would get herself out of it.

Staring out into the window from where he sat, Dr. Mayhew thought of his coat. Drinking down the rest of his poison, he grabbed his coat and keys and didn't hesitate to head out the door after locking up his house.

He made it to the hospital- empty and sullen. It seemed the click of his loafers echoed the halls like a dispatch that he was coming. He had a went a whole year without knowing just how much of his omnipresence stared down the residents and some of the nurses of the hospital. He wasn't an intimidating person, but could be seen as a firm leader when conducting his staff around during an emergency. The brand new arrivals saw him as the older brother: tough sometimes, bossy a bit, but still charming. Endearing as he ran around gathering his information and performing his procedures in a organized way that some of the seniors even glared upon. Jealous to say the least, but intimidated in spurn if you'd ask them.

But even his stalking image didn't rattle Susie that much once he entered her room. Her mind to fixated towards something else to even acknowledge him in the doorway. "Susie?" She slowly turned to him, eyes damp and red, fist pressed over her mouth. A wave of compassion drenched him. "Hey," he grabbed a chair, his voice soft like cotton, "hey... what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I just don't know what to do...." He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Susie sniffled and sighed before mustering up the courage to look at Dr. Mayhew. "Me and my boyfriend... we've been dating for nearly a year. And then last spring, I found out I was pregnant. I didn't know how to tell him... I didn't know how he'd react. So, a month later... over dinner I told him, and.... he.... he said he couldn't handle being a dad... so he left... and we broke up that same night." She looked away again. "I wanted to get an abortion and I was scheduled to go to the clinic the following week, but.... a nun had approached me in a drug store and she told me that all life is sacred- I don't know how that conversation started, but I decided not to go through with it. So... here I am now... but I just don't want it. I thought I did, and that's why I put in the effort to pick out Elijah's name... but I.... I just don't wanna a mom....right now. And I don't think I can take care of him anyway.... I don't have much money and caring will make me poor... so... I love him.... but... it won't work out...."

Dr. Mayhew took in a solid breath. His tongue carried the words he desperately wanted to speak, but couldn't find himself to say them. "I think...." Susie looked to Dr. Mayhew and it was then he could see just how young she really was. Younger than him by a solid ten years maybe. Her eyes scanned his, hoping to have some of the answers she was searching for.

"I think... you did a beautiful thing- bringing a life into the world. Not many women are able to do that willingly. I don't want to tell you what to do.... but.... I think Elijah would want you to do what was best for him. Whether he's with you or somewhere else, he'll come to know that you love him enough to give him a good life regardless." His voice almost a whisper. Susie's eyes held a slight disappointment in them, but understood Dr. Mayhew's compromising postion. She looked into his coco eyes for a long time before turning back to the side, looking down at the floor now. "Thanks..." She said whispered. Dr. Mayhew gave her a pat on her leg before sitting up from her bedside.

"I'll check on you in the morning, in the meantime, get some rest." He smiled, making her do the same too. Closing her door, he felt a thick gut feeling wrap around his stomach. His mind flickered from Susie to Elijah and then Elijah to Susie. Taking in a deep breath, he walked down the long hall and into the elevators with only those two thoughts circling in his mind.

**************************************************

"Susie's getting discharged today," the nurse said, looking up from signing some forms. "Hmm." Was all the response Dr. Mayhew could muster up. The nurse noticed but didn't respond. From the corner of his eye, Dr. Mayhew could make out the shadow of Susie coming out from the elevator carrying the baby carrier in her hand. He shot around and greeted her with a gentle smile. He scanned her blue eyes- innocent and youthful, but full of uncertainty. "Thanks for everything, Dr. Mayhew. Me and Elijah are all set." She said, practially forcing a smile. Dr. Mayhew gave her a polite smile before checking to make sure she had everything she needed before leaving the hospital.

"If you need anything, let me know. If something happens or pops up with Elijah, just give me a call." He handed Susie his office number before watching her walk away with Elijah. Dr. Mayhew felt his heart break a bit; falling into the pit of his stomach and burying itself under the ground of it. It hurt Dr. Mayhew more than it should've, but it didn't mellow the ache. A heartstring broke inside of him making the corner of his eyes sting with looming tears that he bit back inside him.

Getting through the work shift was a struggle- those big blue eyes that seemed to pierce themselves into Dr. Mayhew's soul. The warm touch of his little body would always be remembered even if he would never see him again.

*************************************

The drive home carried a somber mood. Streetlights flickered by his face, reflecting into his eyes as he focused on the road ahead of him. Pulling into the driveway, Dr. Mayhew noticed something on his front step. As he looked closer it was the baby carrier that held little Elijah inside of it with a pale blue blanket draped over it.

Rushing out of his car, Dr. Mayhew looked around and saw everyone on his street were tucked inside their homes for the night and it was just him and the baby alone. Taking the newborn out of his carrier, Dr. Mayhew was met with the same blue eyes he first looked into delivering him. As he craddled the baby in his arms- still warm from his blanket. He noticed a small little note that was taped outside of the carrier. Bending down and grabbing it, he slowly begin to read it.

Thanks for everything, I will always appreciate the kindness you showed to me and Elijah. From the moment I met you, I knew you would be the one who would take care of my baby best. He's yours now and I hope you love him just as much as I do. You'll give him a better life than I ever could've.

Looking down at the silent baby, Dr. Mayhew smiled to himself. Pulling Elijah back and staring back into his eyes, he whispers: "I knew I'd have you someday," Before kissing his soft little head and picking up the carrier and taking him into Dr. Mayhew's warm and cozy home, letting the door close quietly behind them.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez one shots #nicholas alexander chavez #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie grotesquerie #nicholas chavez imagines #nicholas chavez fics #dr. mayhew #charlie mayhew

77 notes · View notes

everyandanything · 8 months ago

Note

turning myself into a copypasta (yes even this part 😭) bc when I have a thought I need about 100 different opinions on it to feel validated so…. everyandanything I’m sorry but you’re my next victim………

thinking about musical!darry letting pony beat him up……. not fighting against him, just letting him tackle him flat on his back and pound his once soft now permanently hardened kid fists down on his chest and arms, the devastation on his face once soda intervenes, it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself……..

resetting the scene…. *opens fic outline…who said that..* he remembers cradling a brand new ponyboy in his arms, he sees him swaddled in a pink blanket bc their parents had been expecting a girl bc they were both part of “two boys and a girl” families (#start your own lore challenge), baby pony loved to squeeze darry with that classic baby strength when he was upset and as 14 year old pony is on top of him screaming in his face bright red and teary holding the meat of his biceps with his nails a part of him sees that tiny baby again and only wants to hold him and soothe him like he used to be able to, take everything he’s ever said in the last few months back, drive himself to the store after work that day, but he can’t!!!! he’s already damaged their family too much, and if pony needs to let it all out like a baby throwing a tantrum- unable to truly express what they feel without physicality- then who the fuck is Darry to take that from him? soda is sitting at the table still, poking his dinner with the prongs of his fork and silently trying to keep himself steady as he !yet again! antagonizes their brother, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat, he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head. he needs it just as much as pony, he uses soda as a crutch too often and pushes him in the middle, almost resenting him for how intact he’s kept his relationship with pony while he grows farther and farther away from them both to the point he isn’t even a brother, not even a parent or an uncle, more like a principal or a jail warden or something of the like. soda is practically shaking in his seat, he’s angry and Darry wants him to be. they deserve to be angry and whatever else he’s made them bury when he’s around. he knows it’s selfish to be thinking of all of the wrong he’s done his babies when they hurt so bad, he knows, but it’s his fault really… he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday… soda slams his utensils on the table and rushes the clump of ponyboy and Darry on the living room floor, he grabs the back of pony’s shirt and pushes Darry’s shoulder until they separate. pony keeps crying in a ball as far from them both as he can get in the smaller space, and soda is trembling, arms out to keep Darry away from him and vise versa covered in tears of his own. his first brother, who he taught how to say swear words in secret in elementary school and was there when he said his first word while their parents were sleeping because he had a stomach ache that kept him up all night and he was so obsessed with watching over the baby in his room and sang him songs when he would fuss and believe him he Did, even when he was happy he would cry and cry… soda is blushing down his neck sobbing before he even gets coherent words out between them, it pulls Darry apart. he wants them to unleash it all on him so badly, he wants to rid them of their pain in any way that will work no matter the cost…. but he can’t… he can’t hardly open his mouth to talk to them as they cry now, but when he does..

/You’re our little brother and we love you. Did you hear what I just said… I said I love you./

he’s thought it plenty. he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that. but he hasn’t said it in so long, not out loud, only when saying his prayers at night asking whatever’s even out there for some fucking good fortune and good luck for once, not even for him just for them…

ponyboy glances up out of the crook of his elbow and then covers his ears. he’s still so small, he’s barely a real teenager… soda’s shoulders drop like weight is shedding off of him little by little, he holds Darry’s arm like it’s the only thing he needs to keep himself upright or he’ll fall over and die right there, resting the side of his face against his bicep. soda is getting big, he’ll be 18 in a year, but he still feels like a baby… his first brother, the littlest forever in his eyes. Darry wants to scoop them up and say it again and again, to make up for everything he’s already said and done, to dig it into their heads that he loves them so much it makes him feel sick and it’ll never change even if pony still hates him in the morning and soda finally gives up on keeping him sane.

there’s a knock at the door and he stops talking, both of his brothers scrambling to different corners. Darry stays on the floor a second longer to catch his breath.

#KeepTorturingDarryCurtis …… who said that 😟

( also!!!!!! I LOVED born a grease I was sitting up every night checking the outsiders fandom tag waiting for new chapters with the power of believing and I’m so sad it’s ended but also so happy that you’ve gotten so much love bc it was incredible </3 )

Anon you can’t just drop something like this in my ask box and run. Just shatter my heart and then leave the scene of the crime, come back! I have so many questions for you!! I could read a million more words of this!!

But ughhh you totally get Darry’s self loathing and anger towards himself especially at this point in the story, like the lines “it’s the only way he thinks pony will ever be able to open up to him bc He hit him First in his own moment of grief and overwhelming frustration and so he wants pony to punish him for it if only just to get him to do something to help himself” and “he finds himself waiting for soda to jump in too, to kick him in the ribs and the back of the head.” and “he should’ve let pony be when he didn’t want to talk to him, he should’ve never thrown the bills at soda’s feet and rattled pony in the kitchen, he should’ve picked up his own frosting instead of begging for it for his birthday” are so it.

AND THEN!!! Pair it with this: “he loves his brothers like no one’s ever loved anything and he’d bet the world on that.”

Like that’s it!! You're so right. That’s 100% darry. He loves his brothers and would do anything for them, sure he doesn’t always know how to express it, sure sometimes it comes out angry, sure he’s tired and drained and and the world hasn’t treated him fair, but he loves Soda and Pony, he’s given up everything for them, and yet all he can see are all the ways he fails them. He loves them “like no one’s ever loved anything” and yet he thinks he deserves nothing but hate and anger from both of them for all the ways he’s wronged them. He can’t imagine a world where either of his brothers love him back, because in his mind, he doesn’t deserve it. Everything that's gone wrong for his brothers, even down to his parents death, is his fault. And why should they love someone that does nothing but make their lives worse?

Anon I’m so serious write like a million more things about the Curtis brothers and I’ll be sat every single time. This is so so good.

(and thank you for the kind words, so glad you enjoyed born a grease!! 🫶🏻🥹 but most of all thank you for sending this to my ask! Don't know what I did to get Darry angst just hand delivered to my inbox like the morning news but this was lovely and soul crushing all at once. Seriously would love to read more of your writing !!! ).

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders 1983 #darry curtis #outsiders fanfiction #thank you for this anon !!!

29 notes · View notes

specific-dreamer · 9 months ago

Note

oh you want more⁉️ once the can of worms is open they’ll be crawling up your walls for days 👹👹👹👹👹 I’m crazy and deranged especially about one darrel curtis jr in particular 👹👹👹👹

/You’re our little brother and we love you. Did you hear what I just said… I said I love you./

there’s a knock at the door and he stops talking, both of his brothers scrambling to different corners. Darry stays on the floor a second longer to catch his breath.

……. well…. I’m not even going to try rereading that.. goodnight !!!!!!

it’s 942am and this is what i wake up to. anon im not even in your walls anymore. i’m sitting on your couch waiting to jump you.

i’m going to eat you anon. i’m in tears man 😭

#i’m going back to sleep #fuck man what’s ur ao3 #this was #hmph #ps i love ur lore omg #sodas first words being when he’s sick and needs his big brother ☹️#stealing that ty #that’s the only thing keeping you from being grounded btw #the outsiders #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders broadway #outsiders musical #the outsiders headcanons #anon

25 notes · View notes

aurheatum · 2 years ago

Text

and from your face i shall be hidden.

welcome present (?) for @divinecrest (it's okay. runes already taken the psychic damage. for everyone else warnings for: death obv. grief! badly dealt with grief! body horror based on the chest cavity/heart. the usual mix of consummate lying and religious fervor rhea is known for.)

The fire should anger her more, even if it does not surprise her.

She had seen Jeralt’s face when she first forced the babe upon him; the horror as he looked her in the eyes and followed her final order all the same (“take it”).

She hadn’t told him to leave, but he had all the same. Jeralt had made his choice then, and Rhea, turning back to cradle Sitri in her arms, had made hers.

They tell her that the funeral preparations can be made without her, if that is what she wishes. Rhea says nothing. Tells them she is the archbishop and that she will oversee things as she always has. No one contradicts her.

All of the monastery agrees that one tragedy has seemed to follow another with Sitri succumbing to her frailty and now her husband nowhere to be seen. They really had thought of Jeralt as one of them, after all – but those raised outside the church, well, what can one truly expect?

Rhea wants to force them all to stop talking. Stop talking as if they ever knew anything of Sitri. As if they have the right to mourn a soul such as hers.

She purchases a casket, instead; similar to the ones of the Four Saints it is inlaid with smaller, but no less resplendent gold pleated crests of Seiros on each of its four corners. Rhea has prepared the body for this, repaired the damage again and again just for this moment where she can send Sitri onward into the tapestry of time.

(Most of the other vessels she had burned under the stars. Each had a shining light named after them now).

She carries her to the Holy Tomb herself, ready to call upon one of her knights to carry the casket out when she is finished but Sitri swaddled against her chest fails to leave her arms

“You cannot,” Rhea pleads before the ghosts of the ten elites and her hundreds of siblings, “you cannot go now. Do not leave me here alone, please!”

(The Church of Seiros says that everything – plant, human, animal has a soul but Rhea has never seen one. This does not mean she does not believe.)

She decides then that she will not send Sitri off into the stars, or lay her here with so many who died in torment; neither will she give Sitri to the ground as if she were just another thing to be broken down by the ravages of age. Rhea will see her perfect, and whole.

The casket goes into the ground a day later but Sitri stays in Abyss.

There were plants that only ever grew in the dark of Abyss – weeds, really, that neither Rhea or Seteth could stop from growing in the cracks of the shadow library but Sitri, enchanted by the faint light they gave off, had loved.

She had loved so much.

Rhea magicks her a field of pampas grass to lay in, grown from the Immaculate One’s blood; it is simple enough to restrain the growth of the field to a single chamber in the underground for unlike the weeds Sitri so loved the grass does not take to the damp and the dark.

It is simple too to place a piece of her own crest stone within the empty cavity of Sitri’s chest; as Rhea has done it many times before (some children of man did not take to her Nabatean blood and so in order to promote the healing of their bodies she had needed to give them something which the Seiros crest could respond to).

She’s done it so many times now, dug her claws into her own heart just to chip away at it for flakes she thinks she could do it in her sleep.

For Sitri she does more. Bringing her regular infusions of blood alongside offerings of freshly plucked lilies and valerian blooms, she arranges them neatly around the palate where she lays and she speaks with her.

She talks to her of how work has piled up again, and what she would not give to have Seteth help her with redoing the library (“you never met, but I think you would have gotten along well”). She tells her with a smile when Seteth returns alongside his sister, and adds with a frown she is not sure how long this time they will stay.

One evening she walks down from her chambers to Sitri’s place in abyss and informs her that the winds of fate have seen fit to bring her children back to Garreg Mach.

“We have needed a military arts professor,” Rhea admits, with some embarrassment, “and Jeralt never could take to that kind of instruction, you know.”

Rhea pauses and admits: “they’ve taken to it very well, though; and the bonds forged with the students, well, it makes me wonder…”

Rhea does not continues the train of thought, merely puts a hand to Sitri’s face and brushes a strand of hair from her eyes.

“That kindness… I am sure it can only come from you.”

#|drabbles #divinecrest

11 notes · View notes

katzkinder · 4 years ago

Text

London Bridge Is Falling Down

Envy Pair version of my Counting Sheep series! Himiko is my headcanon for the name of Mikuni's mother. Since Mikuni's name contains the character for "kingdom," I thought this name belonging to an ancient queen suited his mother well.

Mikuni is annoying.

That’s something Jeje has always known, ever since Mikuni was a child, ever since the first time he saw him, bounding around his mother’s skirts and throwing himself into Lily’s arms to be held and cuddled and fawned over while Jeje had slunk back to the cellars. Himiko had been so bright, back then, the rot of Envy not yet showing in a visible way, that tiny baby that would grow into his brother’s Eve gurgling happily in her arms.

Jeje was the one who had found him. Himiko had wept when she saw him, all the anger and hate leaving her at once, vanishing as if it never existed when she laid her eyes on the fragile little bundle, swaddled in soft fabrics with little gloves on his impossibly tiny hands. She had sobbed all the harder when she took the crying child from him, her hands shaking while she cradled him close, useless apologies spilling from her pretty lips. The body of the babe’s mother had rapidly been growing cold on the carpet, and little Misono… Would remember none of it.

(Jeje remembered all of it, though. He doesn’t think a single moment will ever fade from his mind, no matter how many eons pass)

As Mikuni had grown, with Jeje watching over him as a silent, imposing, guardian angel, always behind the boy’s mother while she had read bedtime stories to him, always so aware of those bright, bright, too bright eyes, Jeje had also become aware of a number of other things, and those things remained true into adulthood. Mikuni has all of his mother’s gorgeous looks (and some from his father, but admitting as such is just asking to be choked), her stubborn brightness, her sharp tongue and wit, but more than any of that...

Mikuni is annoying.

...Because he never listens to what’s good for him. Just like his mother before him, he had taken Jeje despite his warnings, and some bitter, sick part of Jeje had wanted him to. The same part of him that had given in to Himiko herself.

But, well, he’d always known Mikuni never listened, too.

He wonders if Lily knows, though he doubts that he’s aware, of those golden afternoons when Mikuni would sneak down to his hiding place and find him lurking near the boilers, the excited, terrified whispers of Lily’s children, his human children, chasing after the young heir as he confidently hopped down, step by step, into the “monster’s” lair.

They had talked. About nothing. About everything. Well, actually, Mikuni had talked, seemingly not caring that Jeje never said much back, incredible and beautiful and… Well, there was a reason everyone called Mikuni brilliant.

Jeje knew better, though.

***

The most annoying thing about Mikuni, in his opinion, is not how loud he is. It’s not his contrariness, or his capriciousness, or his constant, gnawing curiosity causing him to make mischief.

The most annoying thing about Mikuni was how badly he wanted people to think he was naturally good at everything.

See, Mikuni was smart. Jeje would give him that. But he was also very stupid. It wasn’t as if he lacked common sense, though sometimes Jeje wondered, but it was like Mikuni wanted people to resent him.

More than anyone Jeje had ever met, his Eve was a hard worker. Someone who hated owing others a single damn thing. It was that useless pride and sense of responsibility for things that couldn’t possibly be Mikuni’s fault, things Jeje suspected, no matter how much he denied it, Mikuni had learned, had internalized, from his father and from Lily, that was why Jeje refused to call Mikuni brilliant like everyone else.

...But he did shine. Like a candle in a darkened room. Like a beacon. Warm, and inviting, someone to warm himself beside, even knowing that that flame would burn him up, just like a moth.

The question was... Who would that flame melt into nothing first?

Jeje would be damned twice over if he let it be his Eve.

Turning away from way he had been watching the other man work late hours, hunched over Nod’s ledgers and planners and Mikuni’s own personal notebooks, where his pen scratched across the surfaces of each calculating profits, expenses, bills, new products and designs and promotions and planning trips, Jeje silently makes his way to their kitchen.

Burning the midnight oil just means you won’t have any left when you truly need it.

A snort, reaching for their cabinets. Of course, that’s what Mikuni had him for.

***

He’s gotten very good at brewing tea. Jeje isn’t much of a chef at all, but living with Mikuni for so long, it was practically guaranteed he’d learn to at least make a semi-decent cup, and thank god he had. He would have truly killed Mikuni by now if he hadn’t, he swears, the man is just as persnickety about his tea as Lily is with his coffee.

...He’s also gained a new appreciation for the stuff, but maybe that comes with the territory of spending hours upon hours listening to Mikuni’s one sided argument about the best ways to drink it. It’s hard not to be impressed with all the little details that goes into brewing what’s considered a perfect cup (by Mikuni’s standards, anyway), and even harder still to not feel a fondness for something that draws such genuine passion out of his once charge, now equal.

...It’s such an odd thought. He knows what people think. That Mikuni has always had a stranglehold on him. That Mikuni has always been in charge. That Mikuni has always been someone… Grown up.

Again. Jeje knows better.

He sets the temperature on their electric kettle, one purchased on one of their many visits to the British Isles, sits at their kitchen table, and waits. Thinks.

Mikuni has been grown up for a long time now. And he will continue to grow, and people will continue to think, no matter Jeje’s efforts, that he is a no good, conniving schemer who would sacrifice them all on a wish and a prayer and something like a maybe.

And, well, perhaps they aren’t wrong. Perhaps Jeje is a fool. But if he’s a fool, he’s a court jester, and as court jester he will make absolutely certain this time that the king does not make his mistakes without someone there to make fun of him for it, even if only behind closed doors, even if only between the two of them.

To everyone else, he is a dictator’s executioner, and that’s fine with him. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

His eyes drift to Mikuni’s favorite cup, one made of glass and painted with delicate, swooping strokes of gold, with lilies and a taupe lacquer surrounding all but a window through which one could admire the lovely colors of their favored drink. He takes it into his hands, so much larger than this tiny cup, and finds himself smiling as he turns the joint birthday gift from the Lust pair over and around, admires those intricate, fancy details that speak of quality and knowing down to the letter exactly what Mikuni’s tastes are.

Well.

Almost everyone.

***

The teapot has been warmed, the kettle filled with mineral water and piping hot, and by the time Jeje finishes steeping the loose leaf tea, their little kitchen clock, kitschy and cute and shaped like a cartoon chicken hatching from an egg, reads 2:17 in the morning.

Jeje picks up the cup, the container of melatonin supplements Mikuni has taken since he was twenty at his Servamp’s behest, and carefully carries both back to where he knows the other man will still be completely absorbed in his work.

True to form, Mikuni is still at it. The predictability of his late night, sleepless habits, of his need to do something with his time, makes Jeje’s frown deepen, ever so slightly.

He wishes Mikuni would just rest. Close his eyes, not do anything, just lie there and let Jeje guard him, just be still, be quiet, like did when he was a child.

… He knows better than to think a mind as stubborn and that moves as fast as his Eve’s could ever achieve that, but he can dream. He can also just sicc the Lust pair on him.

That’ll put him to bed real fast.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

He startles, not having expected Mikuni to acknowledge his presence, and nearly sloshes hot chamomile with lavender onto the pretty little matching saucer that accompanied the cup. It’s a miracle it didn’t fall over completely. Jeje lets out a breath, so quiet it’s inaudible, and curses himself for forgetting that Mikuni can see him right now.

Then again, even if he was wearing his mask, Mikuni would have seen right through him.

He always does.

His Eve is watching him still, waiting for him to move, and then his eyes flick down to what Jeje has in his hands. His lips twist.

Jeje ignores it and continues to make his way over to where Mikuni had been peacefully working. They don’t speak a word to one another, and no sooner than Jeje sets his cargo down, he’s going back the way he came, knowing it’s useless to try and ply Mikuni with words or favors.

The man is annoying in his stubbornness, too.

He hears a sniff behind him, the scratch of pen on paper once more, but it isn’t long before that little noise stops again. A sigh. Jeje chances peering around the doorframe, smiling, just a tad, as a clearly frustrated Mikuni slaps his pen down onto the counter and picks up his cup, no doubt tempted by the smell of his favorite night time blend.

A swallow. Two.

Mikuni unscrews the lid on the melatonin gummies. Pops a couple into his mouth. Chews, and swallows. The tension leaves his shoulders. He allows himself to savor the warmth in his hands.

Jeje leaves him be and heads upstairs to their room, knowing Mikuni now won’t be far behind.

“Jeje,” Mikuni calls after him, voice soft in that way it sometimes, ever so rarely gets, so quiet Jeje almost misses it. “... You still really suck at this.”

Mikuni is annoying.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #jekuni #servamp jeje #mikuni alicein #pawprints #it's done!#it's late but it's done!

43 notes · View notes

miracleonice87 · 5 years ago

Text

Like a Dream

a Brock Boeser one shot

a/n: my first Brock fic! this is shorter than usual for me but I hope you enjoy anyway. I’d also just like to say that, as a fan of an Eastern Conference team, Brock Boeser was hardly on my radar when I rejoined Tumblr recently, and now he takes up a lotttt of real estate in my head, rent-free. My deepest thanks to all of you who made me fall in love with him, truly.

summary: just a little fluff piece about Brock and his wife welcoming their first baby, from his perspective.

warnings: swearing. otherwise, complete and total fluff

_____

“God, Mom, she’s so beautiful. Like, I can’t even stand it,” I said softly into the phone, gazing down at my brand new baby daughter asleep on my chest. All six pounds of her was wrapped in a soft pink hospital blanket, an enormous matching bow around her tiny head. I pursed my lips and kissed her feather-soft blonde hair, inhaling her sweet scent with my eyes closed.

My mom released a knowing hum as she listened to me fawn over my firstborn. “She really is, honey. Dad and I can’t wait to meet her this week. How’s Bri doing?”

I lifted my head and soaked in the sight of my napping wife across the private maternity suite. After a 20-hour labor and delivery, along with spending quality time as a new family of three, rest had finally overcome her. I kept my voice low so as not to disturb her.

“Bri’s doing great. She’s been sleeping for about two hours now, which she really needed. She was such a champ, Mom. I swear, I thought I couldn’t love her more, and then she did this, like it was nothing. I’m just so proud of her,” I boasted, my chest warming at the memory of watching my wife give birth as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“She was made for this — that’s for sure,” my mom replied fondly, having known Bri since she and I became friends in middle school. If you knew Bri even as an acquaintance at any point in her life, you knew how incredible she had always been with kids and how badly she wanted to be a mother. Now, she had realized her lifelong dream, and I still had to pinch myself at the humbling thought that she had realized it with me.

“Do you have a name picked out yet?” my mom asked, pulling me from my wandering thoughts. I smiled with the phone still pressed to my ear. “Beckett Elise Boeser,” I revealed. “You know we were going with a ‘B,’” I added with a quiet chuckle. My mom nearly squealed on the other end of the line. “Oh, Brock! How precious. Our little Beckett,” she repeated. “It’s perfect.”

My mom and I were wrapping up our conversation just as Beckett began to stir against my chest. I told my mom I would talk to her soon, dropping my phone onto the couch, and pulled my baby closer, resting her head in the crook of my neck.

“Shhh, you’re okay, baby girl,” I whispered. “Daddy’s got you. Yeah, Daddy’s here, my love.” With faint whimpers, she nuzzled her face further into my neck as I rubbed her back slowly to soothe her, amazed at how my big hand so easily curled around her entire torso. I turned my head to pepper hers with light kisses as her eyelids fluttered.

“I must still be dreaming,” I heard a sleepy voice say from the hospital bed. My head snapped in Bri’s direction, and I saw her still lying with her head against the pillow, her eyes now open and fixed on Beckett and me. “I swear I just had the craziest dream that I had a baby with my high school boyfriend Brock Boeser.”

I beamed at her, a giddy laugh escaping my lips. I carefully stood and closed the gap between us, my free hand cradling Beckett’s head against my shoulder.

“Not a dream, pretty girl,” I told Bri as I bent to kiss her lips tenderly. “This is our life,” I whispered. A grin spread slowly across her face, still as striking as ever despite her tired visage.

“Damn, you look good with a baby,” Bri announced as she stared at me holding Beckett steady against my shoulder, making me chuckle. Cautiously, I moved to place our little girl into her mother’s waiting arms. Bri tenderly gathered the baby in her arms, pulling the swaddled blanket down slightly to get a better view of Beckett’s face, whispering greetings to the newborn as I cupped the backs of both of their heads in my palms.

“So do you,” I replied, reaching to card my fingers through her long hair. Bri looked up from the baby and gave me the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen her wear, and I knew that I would remember that moment for the rest of my days.

“Come on, Daddy,” Bri requested, patting the mattress beneath her. “Sit with us.” Immediately, I kicked off my shoes and accepted her invitation. I looped one arm behind Bri and pulled my legs onto the bed as Bri moved hers to rest on top of mine. She snuggled back into my chest and we both laid hands on Beckett’s tiny form, caressing her cheeks and forehead and chin, totally in awe of this creation we had just brought into the world.

“Thank you,” I breathed into Bri’s hair, my emotions overwhelming me. “Thank you for giving me the most incredible gift.”

Bri looked up at me and cupped my cheek in her hand. “Thank you,” she replied. “This is all I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. I pressed a firm, passionate kiss to her lips, which she leaned into. When we finally parted, I told her, “Me, too.”

180 notes · View notes

deepdarkdelights · 5 years ago

Text

Stay (Jimin x Reader)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None really, this isn’t yandere babes. Uh, I guess the topic of death and dying? Yeah, we’ll go with that.

This is NOT a part of my current series I am writing, this is separate much like “The Darkness of The Night.”

A/N: This is just a little something I made a while ago when I was not feeling the best, tbh I was really depressed. So, this is something to give everyone while I work on the next part of my series. I hope you enjoy it, even though it’s short and nothing like my other fics. It’s pretty corny tbh and most definitely been done before lmao.

There was nothing, that much I knew. And by nothing, I mean nothing. The sky was an absent stretch of swirling dark grey clouds, no light able to permeate through their thick cover. The world was one that had been plunged into darkness, devoid of the sky, devoid of the ground, and devoid of life. It was just the dark mist overhead and me.

It was quiet, not that soothing deep quiet kind, but the kind that made your ears ring, the kind that reminded you that you were completely, utterly alone. But, it wasn’t scary. Just dark, and quiet, and familiar.

I felt numb, my limbs buzzing like they had fallen asleep and my lips were left tingling. It felt like I had been asleep for a very long time or maybe awake for far too long. It was this strange limbo in between the two, almost indiscernible. Was I even alive, had I ever been born? What is this strange but familiar place? This place that held no name, no life, and no meaning was now harboring me. But, I was left without an explanation.

“Hello?” I called, “Is anyone there?”

My voice echoed out into the void, bouncing against an invisible force before returning to me once again.

“Hello?!” I tried once more, only to be met with the same response. An echo and a void, my own voice being tossed back to me in a way that sounded foreign. Like it wasn’t fully mine.

What is this place? My mind felt as if a thick fog had curled around it, squeezing and tightening as if it were trying to subdue me back into that calm and apathetic way I had felt upon awakening. It was as if this place was aware of me and that I didn’t belong there, like it was alive. Was I not supposed to be awake, or whatever it is that you call this?

“Can anyone hear me?!” I cried out, grunting as the pressure in my head doubled. The mist hovering in the empty seemed to thicken, darkening the veil around me as I stumbled about like a newborn deer. The pressure in my head was pounding now, harder and heavier than before as the mist began to swallow me whole, pressing me down closer into myself as I struggled to stand and force the invisible foe away. This place was awake and I was not supposed to be. In the span of only a few moments the calm had raged and turned into a storm.

“Please!” I gasped, “Please, let me go, I need to go! I can’t stay, I don’t want to stay!”

The mist only grew thicker, heavier, and angrier, pressing down into me and forcing me into submission. It did not care about what I wanted, that I had this feeling that something was horribly wrong and if I chose to stay then something bad would happen. My mind was foggier, it felt like an invisible force was pressing down into the curve of my spine and folding me into the deep mist surrounding me. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of the ocean where no one could hear me, where no one could save me.

“I want to live,” I whimpered. “I want to live.”

And suddenly, there was a shift. What had felt like hundreds of hands holding me down became weightless and gentle. And there was light, beautiful, beaming, golden light that was so bright it burned my eyes just looking at it. I raised my forearm to shield my eyes and settled my weight onto my knees. Before, it had felt like I was dying. Now, it was like air was rushing into me and lifting me up, cradling me and comforting me. But it was far too bright and far too beautiful. It was painful all the same.

“Come to me.” A voice whispered so quietly it was like it was barely there. I held myself still, eyes closed and waiting, anticipating the sweet lull of the voice to call me again. And sure enough, it was there.

“Come to me.” It cooed, its sweet trill beckoning me to come forward and into its arms.

I stumbled to my feet, spinning around wildly in an attempt to see the user of such a melodic voice. The person I could only assume was my savior.

“Where are you?” I whispered, turning on my heels once more in search of the voice so rapidly I couldn’t see once more. Not only blinded by the stunning light, but the desperate spirals I was making in search for the voice.

“Come find me.” It called back, this time sounding even softer and farther than before.

First I took one step, then another, and another, and finally I was running. I ran straight into the golden mist, stumbling through the blinding light in search of the siren that called to me. I still did not know where I was, what this place was, and who called to me but I did know one thing, I needed to find them. I needed to know who called to me and who wanted me to find them.

The light stretched onward, touching the entirety of the misty emptiness but seemingly extended with no end in sight.

“Won’t you come find me?” It spoke again, this time a little clearer and a little stronger.

“I’m coming! Please, don’t leave me alone, please!” I gasped, urging my legs to move faster through the veil of mist that curled around my calves, still begging me to stay in the depths of the void.

“Please come find me, I need you.” The voice continued, it was like I could feel it reaching out towards me even though there was only the blinding light in front of me and all around me. I wanted them so badly, I needed to feel their touch, their embrace, and to see their face again.

“I miss you so much baby, please come home to me.” It urged, the voice becoming even clearer than before. I could tell now, this was a man and his voice was so familiar it made my heart ache in my chest, pounding as I ran even faster towards him. I could make it through, I would make it through for him.

“Live for me, God I’m begging you to live for me because I can’t take one more day without you.” He said, his voice cracking as he continued. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, and I know this is so selfish but please come back sweetheart, I can’t live without you.”

“You’re not selfish!” I yelled into the light, my legs working even harder than before. “I want to come home, I want to come home to you! This was my fault, I was the one who left but I don’t want to leave anymore!”

Tears were running down my face, blinding me even more than the light had. So many memories of him were there, hidden in my mind. Soft blonde hair, a sweet smile, and deep brown eyes that begged for me to stay. But I hadn’t and I ended up hurting the both of us in the end.

“I was scared! I thought we were moving too fast and I was the one who left, I was the one who was selfish!” That was right, he wanted to marry me and I had left. It was dark that night, the fog was so thick that I couldn’t see anything.

“You look so small.” He whispered, the skin of my hand bursting to life with tingles. “So small compared to all of this stuff you’re hooked up to.”

His voice was closer, the closest its been this entire time. But with the clarity of his sweet voice, there also came the pain. It was terrible, excruciating, pain. It stung throughout my jaw and head, sliced at my legs, punctured my arm, and punched me straight in the sternum. It hurt so bad to be this close to him, this close to the sun but it was worth it beyond measure. The pain was terrible but his voice was beautiful. I would take all the pain in the world if it meant I could be with him again, if I could start all over again.

“When they found you, I was so scared.” He cried. “They thought you were dead and I felt like I was dying too. But you held on, baby, you did so well. If you want to go, I’ll let you but I’m begging you to try for me because I don’t want to live in a world where I won’t see you everyday. Where you won’t make fun of me, or kiss me, or wake me up with that beautiful smile.”

“I don’t want to go!” I screamed, falling to my knees as the pain worsened. I reached forward, fingers curling into the mist and pulling me forward, the pain splintering off down my fingers and up my arm.

“I want to see you every morning, I want to stay with you, and I want to marry you! I don’t care how much it hurts because I love you!” I panted, dragging myself forward with what strength I had left. The light burned brighter and ignited the pain, bringing me down to the absent ground. A loud ringing sounded through the air, becoming louder and louder as my eyes began to flutter tiredly.

“Please, I need him.” I insisted as my body became heavier, the darkness rushing up behind me and attempting to latch its tendrils to my weak limbs. “I don’t want to go back to sleep, please let me go.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to,” he sobbed, “just please don’t go.”

“Don’t take me away from him, not yet.” I mumbled as the light dimmed and the darkness began to swirl around me again, pulling me deeper into its welcoming embrace. “I love him.”

The ringing only became louder and constant, jarring me as I felt the darkness wrap itself around me even tighter. His voice was gone, and the light was gone. Now, it was just me, the ringing, and the thick coat of darkness that swaddled me.

“Go.” It whispered.

The ringing became solid, melding into constant and consistent beeps. The air was light and smelled sharp and the lighting was dim and soothing. My hand was warm and my body was stiff, immovable from the immense pain that wracked through me. With all the effort I could manage to muster, I slowly opened my eyes again. They were heavy and puffy from sleep, struggling to fully open and take in the world around me. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the sheets on the bed were the same shocking shade. But he was there, with soft blonde hair and big sweet brown eyes staring at me in shock.

“I’ll stay, Jimin.”

#bts #bts jimin #bts x reader #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #kpop #park jimin x reader

190 notes · View notes

spicymayo1983 · 4 years ago

Text

Hiya. This is part 4 to my flirting with disaster series. It wasn't supposed to be this long but I keep coming up with ideas. Lol.

You are now nearly 6 months pregnant. Poe has spent those months nurturing and caring for you and his unborn child.

You're both nervous but excited at the same time. You still feel rough but Poe makes the pain melt away with his massages, kisses and gentle caresses.

As the two of you prepare for the arrival of your little one amongst a time of galactic turmoil you can't help but feel pangs of guilt for bringing a new life into the unrest.

What will life be like for you and your little family?

Warnings, smut, oral sex, childbirth, not for anyone under 18.

Flirting with disaster part 4

You're having a baby boy. You've both seen 4D scans and holograms of your little one. He's active, healthy and strong and ahead in development. It's clear that he already strongly favors his gorgeous father.

You are both experiencing waves of emotions. Excitement one moment and then fear the next. Poe is concerned that you're going to have a difficult delivery.

Both of you have been talking about getting married.

He wants to do it before the child is born but you want to wait until your son is older.

Poe is not 100% okay with your decision. This is causing a slight rift in your otherwise great relationship.

If he had it his way the two of you would immediately be married. But you're not ready just yet. You are still feeling rough and you don't feel like going through even the smallest wedding ceremony.

Late one night you are both relaxing in bed, nude. Poe is laying next to you, gently caressing your breasts and your large belly.

"You look so beautiful tonight". Poe tells you as he gazes deeply into your eyes. "I can't wait for him to be here".

"It's been rough but we're on the home stretch". You reply as you gently guide his hand lower. "He'll be here in just a few months".

"Mmmmm you're feeling frisky tonight, aren't you?" Poe whispers into your ear as he gently fingers your wet slit. "I want to eat you out so badly and then make love to you".

Poe's head immediately dips down below your stomach and he begins to gently kiss and suck on your swollen, wet labia.

You spread your legs for him and he gently slips his tongue inside of you, you arch your back and moan from delight as you grind into him and cum.

When you're ready for him you relax on your side and Poe gently enters you, kissing and nuzzling your neck as he gingerly makes love to you.

"I could stay like this forever, inside you". Poe whispers into your ear. "Your body feels like home to me".

"Oh Poe you feel so good too". You whimper softly.

He plants some soft, wet kisses on your neck as he cums with a light moan.

The two of you quickly fall asleep, nude with your bodies entwined. Poe kept a protective hand on your belly all night.

The beautiful moment is shattered, however, when you are awakened early the next morning by what feels like contractions.

"Poe! Wake up!" You shout as you slowly sit up and nervously shake him awake out of a sound sleep.

"Huh? What is it?" Poe replies, his voice sounding groggy and his eyes popping open.

"I think I'm having contractions". You explain, fighting back tears. "I need to see a doctor".

Once at the hospital wing of the rebellion base the doctor examines you and explains that you were experiencing false contractions.

The baby, and you, were both doing fine, much to everyone's relief.

As a precaution you spend the rest of the day in bed. Poe pampers you with foot rubs, full body massages and cuddles, lots of cuddles.

You're drifting off to sleep again when you feel the baby kicking, Poe is next to you, already sleeping peacefully when you gently nudge him awake.

"He's kicking, Poe". You tell him with a smile.

Poe immediately wakes up and places a hand on your belly, the little butterfly kicks make him smile.

Feeling his first born son's kicks render him speechless. He's in absolute awe, he's seen and experienced many things but this tops everything.

"Wow, just wow". Poe says with a slight laugh. "The little guy sure has some legs on him, what does that feel like?"

"It feels like a tiny little foot kicking the wall of my uterus". You explain, smiling. "It doesn't hurt, it just feels unusual".

Poe tenderly kisses your belly and whispers,

"This is your daddy, and it's way past your bedtime, young man".

You both laugh as the kicking promptly comes to a stop.

"You just got lucky, Dameron". You tease.

You enjoy the last few months of your pregnancy. There are many more moments just like that one, you had no idea Poe had such a nurturing, caring side to his personality.

You have your birthing plan set. You want to have the baby at home with no medication and a doula on hand to assist you if there are any complications.

The two of you want an intimate birth, with as little medical assistance as possible.

You go into labor right on schedule, early in the evening. Poe massages your back, holds your hand, and kisses you tenderly through the entire ordeal.

"I don't know how you can do this". Poe says with a slight smile as he holds you in his arms. "If I were in your position I'd want every medication on the market".

He is lying in bed with you, cuddling you, massaging your back while you are in active labor. The two of you have been like this for several hours already.

You couldn't have asked for anyone kinder or more supportive.

This is what you wanted, you wanted to give birth in his strong, loving arms. With all of the unrest, war and horror going on in the galaxy you wanted your son to at least have a beautiful start to his life.

With a loud wail your son, Maxim Bey, comes into the world. There are no complications and both of you are doing great. He's beautiful, with a full head of dark hair and dark eyes. With tears streaming down his face Poe kisses you tenderly and says,

"He looks just like me, y/n".

You are shaking and crying from a mixture of relief and emotion. You can't believe you did it. When you sit up the doula hands you your swaddled and cleaned up baby boy, his eyes are closed and he's still crying a little.

You stroke the top of his little head, admiring the thick hair.

Poe leans in and kisses him on the forehead, Maxim calms down almost immediately and wraps one of his Itty bitty hands around his father's thumb.

From the start it's clear that Maxim is daddy's little boy.

"I can't wait to teach him how to fly". Poe says with a slight smile and tears in his eyes as he cradles his son in his arms.

"He needs to learn how to walk and talk first". You quip, laughing a little.

"Now will you marry me?" Poe asks, a tender smile appearing on his face.

"Of course, stupid". You reply, leaning in and kissing him.

"Can we have 10 more kids?" Poe teases, gently rocking little Maxim, his face beaming with love and pride.

"Only if you could carry most of them". You tease, giggling a little and leaning over to kiss him on the lips.

"Daddy loves you so much". Poe coos, giving his newborn a little kiss on the cheek. "And daddy loves mommy for having you for me, she gave me such a special gift".

The end

#poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars smut #poe dameron x you

20 notes · View notes

the-last-cuddlebender · 5 years ago

Text

Not in Front of the Kids

Bumi and Kya were scared to say the least. Daddy almost died.

************************************

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (feat. angst/hurt/comfort, bestdad!Aang, bestmom!Katara, bestuncle!Sokka, and littleshit!Aang)

Rating: T

Words: 2,690

ArchiveOfOurOwn

************************************

Aang carried them all out of there—little Tenzin swaddled on his back and Bumi and Kya cradled against his front. One of Aang’s arms was badly fractured by the wrist. Katara was pretty sure his shoulder, at that angle, was partially dislocated, too. He hid his wince in a laugh when Kya whimpered and held onto him tighter.

Suki took little Tenzin from his makeshift wrap—the babe was crying but otherwise okay, to Katara’s every relief.

Katara was planning a million miles an hour as she assessed her husband and children. Bumi and Kya were filthy but favored no injury and showed no wound. Aang, on the other hand, looked like he had thrown himself over a bomb from how badly his robes—or, what was left of them—were singed and torn. He trembled like an engine missing a bolt and about to break apart.

Her children flinched and instinctively held onto their father even tighter once the sounds of the outside came crashing down on them. Katara, already fisting gauze in one hand and healing water in the other, gave her brother a look, and Sokka, cooing gently, tried to encourage the toddlers from Aang’s arms.

Aang was on the brink of collapse. Katara needed to heal him.

It was only with his careful airbending that he spared his kids from hearing his wheezing.

Aang stopped Sokka’s attempts. The kids had enough of people taking them away for the day. He needed them to go on their own.

“Hey, what—,” Aang gritted his teeth and pursed his lips, hiding a cough into a slurred sound like he was clearing his throat. It didn’t help that Kya hiccuped in the same moment and tightened her death grip on her father’s neck. Aang held her closer on instinct—her and Bumi—and smiled into her hair so she felt it. Only then did he give Sokka his attention. “What do ya think you’re doing, trying to take my munchkins from me, eh?”

Sokka slumped, immediately seeing through Aang’s facade. Behind him, Toph’s clenched fists ground metal on metal to resist the urge to smack her former student.

Aang felt Katara’s glare and heard what was left of her heart break as she moved closer, fighting the urge to hold her family like she was fighting to keep a tsunami away.

Sokka tried again. “Aang— ”

Aang ignored him. “What do you say, guys?” he asked the shivering, dust-coated bundles trying so desperately to hide in his robes. Aang smiled, ignoring even the thick beads of sweat rolling past his temple and trembling jaw. “You wanna go with Uncle Sokka for a bit?”

The suggestion made Bumi hold such a tight fistful of Aang’s collar that it threatened to cut off his air, and Kya shook her head so hard and so fast that it threatened to come off her shoulders.

“Nonononono!”

“Wanna...W-Wanna stay with D-Daddy…”

Aang’s heart broke not too unlike how the Uprisers cracked four of his ribs.

Katara’s eyes were a threat and a plea—begging him. Aang would have wondered why she hadn’t talked yet if he didn’t see the tremble in her lip.

She was struggling not to cry.

And they promised not to cry in front of the kids.

Suki stepped forward, just behind Sokka’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself when the children whimpered and curled ever closer. They were wired and on edge with the raw chill of fight or flight; instinct made them desperate to cling to the only warmth—the only safety—they could feel.

Aang nudged them higher so the blood leaking from his abdomen wouldn’t taint them. A shiver wracked him from head to toe, speeding his breathing and kicking his heart into overdrive.

A quiet hush of metal on metal. “Twinkletoes…”

Bumi and Kya mumbled some more.

His kids were terrified—His wife equally so.

Aang laughed.

It was a broken, wet sound, but it warmed the air’s tension just as his laugh always did. Even the sirens, shouts, and grindings of earthbending as Toph’s teams worked to rescue evidence and enemies from the crumbling warehouse were drowned out by the familiar sound.

Katara stepped forward. A lecture sat on her tongue and a thousand desperate pleas clouded her eyes.

Kya’s voice was a squeak. “D-Don’t go, Daddy…”

Katara gave him a look that held more than one meaning.

Aang gave her one back—that he hoped was reassuring—before he turned back to their kids.

“Shhhhh, shhh, shhh…It’s okay, guys. It’s okay...shhh…I won’t be gone long. I just gotta go annoy Mama and do some boring grown-up things for a little bit. And I need to change my clothes—we all do. That sewer was a stinky, stinky place, wasn’t it?” He nudged Kya with his face, and he peeled her away enough from his neck to give her cheek a playful kiss and to give her terrified eyes a smile to look at. “Kya, I think you’re the stinkiest of us all, little lady.”

Kya held their eye-contact just as resolutely as she held onto his neck. Aang smiled wider, and his daughter had no choice but to do the same.

The smallest giggle escaped her, like a shaft of light peeked through a barely opened door. “...Daddy’s stinkier.”

Aang looked appalled and gasped just as comically even though the sudden intake of air nearly sent him into a fit. “Me? Stinkier than you? I think not, little lady.”

His efforts won him a shy smile that was missing two baby teeth. “Daddy the stinkiest.”

“Not-ugh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

Aang rolled his eyes and didn’t stop smiling. “Well, I see who you take after. I’ll never win with you, now, will I?”

Kya laughed a little more.

Bumi wasn’t swayed in the least. He held on to where Kya had let go. His voice was strained like a squeak of rubber on tile, thinned so taut that it threatened to break.

“It was scary down there…”

Aang’s smile almost faltered, and it would have if Kya—her confidence crawling back enough to pull away one hand to suck her thumb and rest her head contently on his partially dislocated shoulder—wasn’t looking at him.

Aang shook like a stone building about to collapse. His face was paler. His robes were darker and so wet in some places that crimson beaded little pools on the fabric’s weave.

Sokka moved behind him. Suki stepped to Aang’s side where his shoulder was shifted at a strange angle. They both opened their arms—just a bit—expecting him to fall but ready to catch him.

But Aang would sooner die on his own two feet before he fell with his kids in his arms.

“Oh, Boom-Boom…,” Aang cooed. Bumi shook and bit his lip so hard that Aang feared it would bleed. He kissed his son’s hair and the darkening bruise on his forehead—the reminder of one of the Uprisers hitting Bumi with a baton—like the gesture might somehow be a bandage. “It’s okay, bud. I know it was scary. I was scared! But you two were so, so brave.”

“You…” Bumi angled his head to look up at the kind smile eager to greet him. Aang’s heart broke a little more. The vulnerability in those little eyes should be a crime. “Daddy was scared, too?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I was! Did you see how big those bad guys were? I thought I was in big trouble until you two brave warriors stepped in.” Aang’s knee threatened to give. Suki stepped a little closer with Toph right behind her. Gauze hit the ground as Katara tried and failed to hide her panic, but she was before her family in an instant. Aang gave her a look, ignored the scalding one he got in return, and turned his attention to their daughter. “Kya, you held your baby brother and did the waterwhip with one hand. One hand! Not even Mommy could do that when she was your age. And I’ll never forget the look on that bad man’s face when you kicked him in the shin, Bumi. He looked like you threw a boulder at him.”

A shy blush colored Bumi’s wet cheeks. The deathgrip on Aang’s collar loosened a bit. “He was gonna hurt Sissy…”

“But he didn’t, thanks to you. I’m so, so proud of you two. Mama is, too.” Aang trembled all the more, but his eyes were laughing and his smile carried a thousand reassurances when he looked at Katara. “Aren’t you, sweetie?”

Katara swallowed twice before she tamed her worry enough to keep it out of her voice. She kissed her children not nearly enough for her heart to stop racing, and her hands, once rubbing their backs like she did when they had nightmares, secretly wound under them to support their weights. Katara was still kissing their heads when she mumbled in a voice as soft as chalk dust but as firm as plated armor. “Very proud.”

Kya, one thumb in her mouth, didn’t move from her bed of robes and Daddy-shoulder as she found a handhold in her mother’s dress. Katara jumped on the chance to kiss her face. Kya smiled and squished her cheek—rounded from a gentle smile—to her mother’s. Quiet pride leaked into Kya’s words. “...I didn’t even cry when he hurted my hands with the rope.”

“Me neither!” Bumi piped up from his new position, relaxed and cradling himself in the dip of Aang’s other shoulder. Katara kissed him, too, and, if he weren’t struggling to stay conscious, she would have taken Aang out at his knees and strapped the stubborn brat to the nearest table so she could heal the blood oozing from his abdomen and onto her hand.

“Did you hear that, Uncle Sokka?” Aang said. “Two big bag guys and rope, and they didn’t even cry!”

Sokka smiled, looking as tired as Aang felt. “That’s quite impressive, little warriors.”

The kids blushed. Aang kissed their cheeks with sloppily raspberries until they laughed.

Aang laughed, too.

He was shaking even harder, now.

Katara gave him a look that he couldn’t tear away from. She wasn’t pleased in the least by the answer Aang’s look gave her in return, but she went along with it, nonetheless.

“Why don’t you two tell Uncle Sokka about your brave story? You know how much he loves those kinds of things. He tells you them all the time. He’ll tell everyone about how brave you two were.” Bumi and Kya giggled and held him tighter—not in fear or like he was the only thing keeping them from falling, but in a hug.

Behind them, Aang gave Katara another look.

Hurricanes killed fewer men than her returned look was capable of.

But, nonetheless, she understood. Something worse than sadness weighed down her movements as she pulled away, just a bit, and steeled herself in a subtle bending stance.

“Come on, Trouble and Mayhem, off to Uncle Sokka you go.” Aang motioned with his chin for Sokka to come forward. “Daddy’s gotta go do boring adult stuff for a little bit.”

“Cuz you're the Avatar?” Kya mumbled around her thumb.

“A bit, yes. But I won’t be long. I promise.”

Aang was just about to hand them off when Bumi spoke. “...When will you be Daddy again?”

Aang stopped shaking. He nudged both of his kids higher up on his chest so he could look them in the eye. He ignored Katara’s whine—so desperate it was audible—just as easily as he ignored the torn muscles bleeding even more of his life into his robes.

“Boom-Boom, I am always—I will always, always, always, always and forever be your and Kya’s and Tenzin’s daddy.” Aang coughed and hid it in the red fabric of his clothes. Katara looked ready to step closer. Aang silently shook his head. He didn’t stop smiling. “Daddy was the one who threw the rock at the bad man right? And gave him to Auntie Toph?”

“...Yeah.”

“And daddy was the one who carried you three out of there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And who’s talking to you right now? Daddy or the Avatar?”

“Daddy.”

“That’s right. And your Daddy won’t ever, ever let any bad men hurt you. C’mere.” He gave them both cheek kisses, and they released his robes to touch his face. Aang nuzzled them as gently as he spoke. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Impossible.” He gently kissed them again and gave Katara a final look as he handed their kids over to Sokka. “Uncle Sokka, be a pal and take these two hooligans for a bath and some ice cream. I have to bug their mama for a while. Make sure Kya scrubs behind her ears.”

In the pass-off, the kids’ attention on their father blinded them from seeing his blood being bent out of their clothes. Aang curled his arm over his abdomen just as the spot became warm and wet again.

Kya puffed her cheeks. “Daddy!”

Bumi giggled at her, welcoming the laugh-slap-fight his sister met him with. Aang kissed Katara’s brow and patted Sokka’s shoulder before the warrior walked off with the kids.

Katara immediately started her pat-down. Her worry was palpable and thick like frozen gel in her voice. “Aang—”

“Wait,” he hissed.

Katara, very ready to argue, looked beyond his shoulder and pulled her finger off the trigger of her lecture. Bumi and Kya were looking at them from over Sokka’s shoulder. Katara waited, frozen more than anything as she was torn between her promise to her husband and her worry for his well-being.

They had promised not to bleed in front of the kids.

Aang kissed her brow in a sweet-looking way—like how he did every night when he got home.

Two seconds later, the door was shut on the osctrichhorse cart. Six seconds later, it was turned around a corner.

Katara had no sooner glanced at the back wheel of the cart than her husband’s limp weight collapsed into a trembling puddle of whimpers, winces, and soft cries in her arms.

Aang smiled against her shoulder. Wet heat seeped from his clothes into hers.

Katara held him as tightly as she dared and shouted for a bunch of things Aang couldn’t make out. He couldn’t hear anything outside of Katara’s racing heart and the quiver in her voice (that only he could ever hear).

She held him, and he held her, too. His fractured arm didn’t scream nearly as loudly or as angrily at him as she did.

“Aang, don’t you dare move another muscle. Do you hear me?”

He laughed—the brat actually laughed. “It’s...It’s hard...not to hear you, sweetie.”

“Aang, this is serious. You’re hurt, damn you, and this isn’t the time to be cracking jokes.”

He laughed again. “I...disagree. It’s the exact...exact time to be.”

“Shut up.” Katara hesitated, glancing about for the supplies she was waiting for, but kissed him, nonetheless. “Just shut up and stay still so I can heal you and be mad at you later.” His eyes met hers. He was still smiling. She kissed him again.

“So…,” He paused to cough, “...So it’s a date?”

Despite herself, Katara laughed.

Aang smiled. She kissed him again.

The lasting images of his family’s grim faces were crushed under the renewed memories of their smiles. He danced the line of unconsciousness, but he forced himself awake until Katara healed him enough to be satisfied, for the moment, that her husband was out of immediate peril.

His adoptive family gave him an earful—Toph promised to kill him later, and Suki promised to hold him down while she did it. They both gave him a hug and laughed, despite themselves, when he said he looked forward to it.

Besides, they should have known he wouldn’t die from a rescue mission of this kind.

He and Katara had, after all, promised not to die in front of the kids.

************************************

an exercise in angst because I suck at writing it...I blame discord and A.D.Curtis entirely for making me think about angst while trying to write some bestdad!Aang content

58 notes · View notes

missyasf · 6 years ago

Text

The Caretaker

| Prologue |

↳ Summary: You’ve lived your whole life on your own, relying on no one but yourself to keep this child safe, you’re whole world is about to come to a complete change however when a bounty hunter enters your lives with no more then stoic silence and an insistence his name is the Mandalorian- whatever that is. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know it’s going to be a long trip.

↳ Pairing: Mandalorian/Reader,

↳ Genre: Action, slowburn(?), fluff, mild angst, future smut? We’ll see as the plot advances.

Word Count: 2.2k

___ | Next

“What are you gonna do about it little girl?”

Your body felt weak, the dry heat of Arvala-7 was still prominent even in the inclosed space of this makeshift base, or maybe a fort? It was pure bad luck when you had run into the Nikto mercenaries, it was even worse luck when they thought they’d sell you over to a slave company. Or at least that was the word that was currently being talked about. What was in front of you however, was even more demeaning.

Two of the mercenaries who had been guarding you had become all the more mocking, thoroughly enjoying tormenting you. You had yet to budge until they dragged the child into it. Your lips quivering and eyes threatening to sting as the Nikto held him by the foot, the child letting out a shrill cry as you glared, “Put him down! He’s just a child.”

They only laughed at you, the other shoving you down, pain throbbing in your side at the awkward way you landed before wincing, your hands which had attempted to catch you pulsing at the burning sting and your breath hitched in pain. They tossed the child back into the metal pod as it cried out, little sobs escaping it as you crawled over, eyes burning into their backs with anger as they walked back towards the door laughing with one another.

“Shhh, it’s okay little one.” You bundled him back into your arms, cradling the little child against your chest, his big doe eyes calming at the sight of you and his big floppy ears perking down, “I’m here, just you wait,” You lowered your voice as you soothingly rubbed your thumb along his forehead causing a bubbling coo to escape his lips, “Those nasty men will get there’s.”

The child only tilted his head, as if not understanding your words, rather choosing to settle his head against your chest as you hummed quietly, wincing as you stood up. There was no telling what bruises you’d have, all you could hope was by some miracle you’d be able to find a way to escape this encampment and make your way back to your home planet.

You couldn’t help but sigh, sitting down against the supply case as you shifted your hold against the infant, even if you could make it back to Akiva, what was the point? You doubted your tribe would even remember you, it had been years and you had been carted to plenty of desert planets. When was the last time you had seen greenery? You couldn’t help but close your eyes at the idea.

Lush tall trees that looked as if they could level mountains, soft yet prickly green grass beneath your toes instead of the scorching hot sand, cool moist air with the thick scent of evergreen. You wanted so badly to be able to imagine it vividly, but it was only a hazy, distant memory now. One that was hard to even remember when your lungs were suffocating with sand. But you couldn’t just live on a desert planet the rest of your life, not with a child now. He needed a better life than just desert lizards and dust.

Akiva was hardly an option, it was more than a few light years away, but it was better than nothing.

Hearing a soft coo from the little one only made you glance down with a tut before giving a soft smile, you had discovered it off the grove of your planet Akiva when you were younger yourself, but you had hardly made it more than a half mile before you were whisked away. You had assumed at first it was the child the stormtroopers wanted, yet the commander had given you one look and directed you be taken as well.

You and this little green child’s destiny had been intertwined ever since. You had grown up since then, but this one...well he had grown, maybe a half inch? His age was remarkable and you had yet to see another of his kind, you couldn’t help but wonder how old it was. You knew he was well over ten years old, but still. How old was it when you found him? After so many years you couldn’t help but become attached to this nameless child though you often referred to him affectionately as Jaa, which was a direct translation in your native tongue to: Child. It seemed rather redundant but you thought it was cute until you could figure out it’s name, or well, the name he had been given at least.

The loud blast had been muffled but was enough to cause you to jump. Standing up straight as you hugged the child against your chest, the ring of another three…? Four shots fired. This wasn’t too uncommon in the past week and a half. There was often a lot of gunfire outside but you rarely thought anything of it.

It had been alarming at first but you quickly came to the conclusion it was nothing to be worried over. You could barely let out a breath before jumping at the sound of the alarm going off, it was loud and deep making you swallow thickly once more. Not only your two guards had rush into your room but a third unfamiliar as well.

“Come here you little bitch.” You let out an unpleasant noise and the child shrilled a cry at being jostled around. Before you could even ask what was going on you had been shoved back into the small confines of your cell, the door ceiling shut besides the small peep of a window. It was cramped and you could feel your claustrophobia kicking in.

Taking shaky breathes as you jolted at the sound of heavy gunfire from outside the confines of your small space, had another group of mercenaries come? Or did a deal outside go bad? You could only hope you’d be able to get out of here soon.

A few more minutes had passed yet the gunfire hadn’t deceased, in fact, it sounded even more heavy, as if a full blown shootout had begun. The child must have sensed the disturbance as well as it began to cry, soft bubbling whines escaping it’s lips as you kept your breath steady.

Rebundling him as you hummed, “Shhh, it’s okay.” Curling him back against your chest you continued to hush the child as calmly as you could.

The gunfire had finally stopped causing you to breathe a sigh of relief, it wasn’t ideal but at least you’d be let out of this small, cramped space soon to properly care for the child. You had soothed him enough for a small coo to escape it’s lips, letting it’s head rest against your chest once more, his eyes heavy as if having worn himself out from being under so much stress within the last half hour.

A few more shots had fired before falling quiet once more, had the Nikto gotten rid of the rest? Your body tensed at the sudden rounds of gunfire, it couldn’t have been from a single blaster. Could it? The child had worn himself out too heavily to cry anymore from how loud and harsh the chainblaster was but you had been nearly sent over the edge, curling your knees against your chest to keep the child as protected as possible.

Nuzzling down to keep him swaddled against you as you closed your eyes. The machine fire had heightened after a moment of silence causing your breath to hitch, surely the Nikto had won, right? You would’ve been more than happy to know they had all died, but the idea of something unknown taking them out had you scared. You could handle the Nikto mercenaries but you weren’t sure about this group. Were they ruthless? Were they just raiding the base for supplies and would kill you after finding you?

Or maybe, they pass you up without a second glance. A shimmer of hope fluttered in your chest, if this was just a raider group, then you’d be able to surely find a way out of this small hole and escape.

Carefully you shifted to the front of the small cell, glancing out the small window as you noticed the Nikto pressed against the wall on the inside of your room, suddenly jumping to the door with his gun aimed. You jumped at the blaster that sounded and the mercenary flying backwards. A drop in your stomach made you nearly nausea as you scooted to the back of the small cell once more, you had a feeling, they weren’t just raiders, whoever they were.

You felt as if you could hear a pin drop it was so quiet now compared to all the noise earlier, were all the Nikto dead now? It almost felt like a ghost town. Your body tensed at the once open hole suddenly covered by a flash of bronze metal, it had paused as if accessing the small airlock they considered your cell.

Holding your breath you curled into yourself once more, fearing the worst as your hold on the child tightened. He was so young still, he couldn’t be taken away from you now. Not when he was just a little one. Just as the door slid open you covered your face with a small whimper. Yet not a single gunshot came after a moment of silence. Hesitantly you looked up from the large hood you had worn, lips quivered at the sight of two figures, one being a mercenary droid, and the other, clearly a human mercenary, or so he looked from above his armor.

“Please….” You rasped quietly, eyes large and fearful at the lifeless figures of both mercenaries that stared at you blankly, the child stirring against your chest at the sound of your voice before peering out from it’s swaddle of cloth in innocent curiosity. Yet nothing came from them, in regards to you.

Rather the armored one almost seemed conflicted, “They said one was fifty years old…” He looked over to the droid before back to you, and then the child as if trying to access which of you was supposed to be this acclaimed age. But you were not even close to fifty, in your twenties, yes, but you still had a long way to go. Which could only mean....At one point you would’ve denied this child was around fifty, but now? It could only make sense.

The droid rotated it’s head as it mechanically spoke, “Species age differently.” It said it as if it was a statement, but you’d give it merit, it was clearly the truth. You had almost grown up with this child and yet it was only you who grew, “Perhaps it can live many centuries.”

The child only pushed the cloth further down, a little coo escaping his lips as he tilted his head, as if intently listening to the two new faces, regardless you pulled your knees a little closer to yourself to shield the child’s curious gaze, apprehensive at their motives, and judging by the blaster’s they were both strapped with, it wasn’t good, “Sadly we’ll never know.”

Your gasp was quiet as you curled further at the sight of the mercenary droids gun lifting, they were going to not only kill you but the child as well? It was so young, just an infant, they couldn’t! You didn’t want to die either but you’d gladly volunteer in the child’s place if you could, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing this child, your world had been taken from the world itself.

“No.” You glanced up cautiously at the other mercenary, his hand pushing the blaster back down as he glanced between you and the child, “We’ll bring them in alive.” Bring you in? Bring you in where? You couldn’t help but feel an involuntary shiver up your spine, was he referring to the what was left of the imperial? The ones you had barely escaped from by tooth and nail so long ago.

Even after all these years you still didn’t have a clear answer, what did the imperial want with you and this child? What was their motive and why were you needed so badly?

“The commission was quite specific,” The droid replied diplomatically, as if not taking any other answer as it lifted it’s blaster once more, “The assets were to be terminated.” Had they been hired to kill you and the child?

A lump in your throat formed at the possibility, what could you have ever done to warrant a bounty of your head? Let alone the child? You’d never find out now though as the droid raised the blaster once more, it’s partner not stopping him this time as you let out a breathy sniffle, curling up and closing your eyes tightly. Apologizing to the little one as much as you could in your mind with the last few seconds you’d have left of consciousness.

The blaster shot rang out and caused you to jump, a slight ringing in your ears and for a half a second you were worried it had shot the child first.

But upon inspection the droid had collapsed, and the gun the man held was placed back in it’s holster. Standing in silent inspection as you swallowed thickly, whoever this man was. You couldn’t help but silently thank his humanity.

Note: oop- sorry for such a short chapter but this is a prologue per say which is at the end of Episode 1! Let me know if you like it and if let me know if you’d like me to start a taglist for you guys!

#the mandolarian #the mandalorian #star wars x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x reader #baby yoda #🥺#the mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader

414 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 5 years ago

Note

Merlin prompt for you, if you take requests. Thanks! — Merlin is Arthur’s long lost twin (neither of them knew) and at birth, before she died, Ygraine begged a servant to send Merlin far away to protect him from Uther. Hunith ended up finding Merlin on her doorstep and the rest is history- cue the boys discovering this together!

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I had fun with it!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: Uther’s a dick, other than that, not much

Word Count: 3138

Uther should’ve known what he was getting himself into. When he opened his hand and his heart, for perhaps the last time, and made that choice to weave magic into his family irrevocably. He should have known that there was a risk, a risk that he would not get exactly what it is he so desperately wanted. A risk that the perfect, golden heir he desired wouldn’t be his.

But then that golden crown of hair had emerged and Uther forgot. The babe was placed into his arms and he smiled down at the little thing, ignoring the drool seeping into his gloves, ignoring the way the baby whined and squirmed, because he had an heir.

“Arthur,” he had breathed, settling the babe back into the nurse’s arms, “Arthur.”

And he had swept down the corridor.

Ygraine had still lain on the bed, in pain. The nurses had widened their eyes in alarm when it started again.

Another babe emerged, whining in Ygraine’s arms, dark hair, and golden eyes.

Arthur, even as small and new to the world as he was, had reached out chubby arms toward the now weeping babe, trying to wrap his arms around the little one, try and hold him close. The dark-haired babe had nestled in Ygraine’s arms, not quite awake, not quite asleep, but glowing. Just enough to make Arthur sigh when the nurse holding him finally caved and brought him over to lay a fat-fingered hand on the other’s arm.

Ygraine cradled her babes to her chest and knew that Uther would only have the one.

“Send for Balinor,” she had said, “he’ll know what to do.”

Balinor did. The Dragonlord knew the price of asking for such a huge magical favor. The arrival of the second babe was the remainder of the magic, knowing it could not remain in Ygraine’s body.

“You must take him,” Ygraine had said, even as she clutched the dark-haired babe in her arms, “you must take him far away from Uther and farther away from here. He’s got your hair. People will believe. You’ve a wife, don’t you?”

Balinor had taken one look at his Queen, at the twins in her arms, at the magic the curled impossibly close around the two of them. He had warned her that already, the magical bond between the two of them was stronger than they could know, and he could not hope to break it without causing irreversible damage to the twins.

“I don’t want you to break it,” Ygraine had said, the stoic resolution of the Queen already coloring her tone again, “I want you to make them safe.”

Balinor could not refuse his Queen.

The dark-haired babe had whimpered as they gently separated the two of them, Arthur already calling out in dismay, as Balinor swaddled the babe in a proper cloth before cradling it snugly in his arms.

“You realize,” Balinor had murmured, “it is unlikely you will see me again.”

“You have been a faithful and true servant to the realm for as long as I can remember,” Ygraine had said, “even more so than I can tell. You will continue to do so, I know, even without me asking.”

Balinor had bowed his head low, and the Queen had breathed her last breath.

He had left Camelot at first light, the babe curled in his arms. His heart had not left his throat until he climbed off his horse into the arms of the woman he loved.

Hunith had taken the babe into her arms and called him her own.

Balinor had not been able to stay. They both knew this. He remained long enough for the magic of the child to make them both nothing more than weeping parents, together for only a moment longer, before Hunith was left alone, the babe in her arms, the magic swirling in delicate golden tendrils around them.

————————————————

Arthur lies in his bed, the servants awaiting his every move to offer him a drink, a toy, some food, anything he could need. And they’re supposed to know everything, right? That’s why they’re here, to know what he needs.

But he doesn’t want toys. The toys don’t feel right against his hands all the time, even though they’re of the most high-quality materials coin can by, even though they’re taken away to be dutifully scrubbed within an inch of their toy little plush lives every time Arthur so much as gets dust on them. His hands itch sometimes like they need to be touching something, but nothing ever feels right.

He wants something soft, something warm, something that tingles slightly under his palm. He wants something warm that curled around him, let him run his still clumsy fingers through its fur, or hair, something that could hold him back.

He asked for it a couple of times but the servants don’t know what he wants.

He’s not so sure he does either.

————————————————

Merlin lies in his bed, with his mother’s arms wrapped around him. He worries the edge of his blanket between his fingers, cupping it around his cheeks and rubbing it against his face. This is his favorite piece of fabric and he struggles to fall asleep when he doesn’t have it.

When he doesn’t have it, his mother’s arms feel strange when they hold his tightly. They feel too big, too large, too weathered for him, and he doesn’t know why. She smells wrong, too. She smells like home, yes, but she doesn’t smell like home. Merlin misses something, maybe he misses a lot, but he doesn’t miss how sometimes he’ll tuck his little head into the crook of his mother’s shoulder and his nose will wrinkle because the sweet smell of spice and oats and salt isn’t what he expected.

Maybe that’s why he wants that blanket so badly. His mother says he came wrapped in it, the last thing from his father before he had to go away. The blanket smells different. It smells sweet, yes, but a different kind of sweetness. It smells of some kind of fruit, something the tingles the end of Merlin’s nose, and something slightly spiced, too. Merlin clutches the blanket tighter. The smell’s going away, it’s getting fainter every night.

Merlin doesn’t know where to go to make it smell right again.

————————————————

Arthur runs about the castle, dodging the guards and tucking himself into one of the archways.

“Sire!” Ugh. “Sire, we’ve talked about this, you have to stop running away!”

“You have to stop chasing me,” Arthur mutters under his breath, scampering down the opposite hallway.

His face splits into a grin when he finally spots the window to the training grounds. Glancing around, he jumps through, landing and rolling, not caring about the dirt that sprays up around his boots.

The wind ruffles his hair and coaxes this way.

A joyful yell rips through the air as Arthur sprints the length of the field, not a knight in sight, just the blood pumping in his veins, into his cheeks, flushing his face as he smiles so hard he thinks it might split. He imagines a figure ahead of him, throwing playful insults over its shoulder, playfully pulling him further away from the castle, from the guards, goading him to keep up. He grins and pours on the speed. They won’t get away this time!

His arms and legs ache by the time he reaches the other end of the field. His lungs are on fire. He hunches over, panting, even as the air protests, scraping his throat. He imagines the other figure right next to him, panting through breathless laughter. Arthur imagines making one last swipe, finally snagging the other’s tunic and pulling them close, never letting go.

“I’ve caught you,” he would pant, “now you have to stay.”

Instead, all he gets are the yells from the guards.

————————————————

Merlin waves his hand and the leaves swirl up, dancing around him in the forest. Delighted giggles accompany the rustling as they drift slowly back and forth, caught up in an inescapable breeze. One of them smacks him lightly across the face and he stumbles backward, falling smack onto his rear in the massive pile he’s amassed. He almost sinks all the way to the ground.

He flails, sweeping leaf after leaf aside until he’s lying there, still giggling, almost making snow angels in the leaves. They crinkle under his collar and his head, little bits finding their way into his hair and clinging persistently. His magic chuckles, reaching out to stroke the pieces away.

Merlin’s giggles trail off as his magic works. He hasn’t figured out how to make this person real yet. The person who will always come play with him, who will jump and dance about like he wants to. He almost remembers them, almost, remembers a person who will pull him to his feet when he needs help, will fuss over him, and make sure he’s all clean and safe.

He still finds himself reaching for them sometimes, to help them up or for their hand to get himself to his feet. He thinks he sees them behind him sometimes, just out of the corner of his eye, a flash of gold. He thinks that if he were a little better at controlling his magic, maybe they’d be real.

“Come on, Merlin,” they’d say, still holding his hand, “let’s go explore this part of the woods! Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you!”

Instead, all he gets are leaves fluttering around him and the wink of golden magic.

————————————————

Princes aren’t supposed to get angry like this. Uther’s stony face glares at him even as Arthur tries to splutter his way through his rage, explain why it isn’t fair that he doesn’t get to train with Morgana anymore. Morgana is good, even though he’d never say that to her face, she’s good and she could be better and it’s not fair that his father is trying to take away the only decent sparring partner he’s had in ages.

But Uther is firm and slams a fist down onto the table, saying that his word is final and Morgana will not be allowed to train anymore.

Arthur doesn’t throw a tantrum, because princes don’t throw tantrums, but he does loudly explain that he thinks his father is wrong, and Morgana won’t be happy about this and then Uther will have to explain it to her, why he doesn’t think she should be allowed to train. Morgana will cry—because she knows Uther has a weakness for that—and then Arthur will have to watch Morgana cry and Arthur doesn’t want to see Morgana cry.

He wants to train with Morgana. He wants Morgana to be happy. He wants someone to be here to back him up.

He wants to just know that there’s something behind him, someone behind him, and always will be. Someone else in the big empty hall, where Uther’s every movement rings out like a thunderclap, where it’s not just him and the guards he knows won’t do anything to stop their king.

He wants to look behind him and catch the eye of someone who cares, someone who will stand by his side and behind him for as long as he needs. He wants to feel the tingle of another presence in the room, a silent witness to whatever happens that it happened, that Uther can’t just turn around and decide this didn’t happen, that it did, that Arthur is right, and that he has a right to be angry.

But Morgana isn’t here. There’s no one else here.

So Arthur raises his chin and faces his father alone.

————————————————

Merlin hates that he cries when he’s angry.

It’s the worst. The fat horrible tears that bubble up in his eyes and roll down his cheeks are just making it worse, the jeers and cackles from the other boys making them come faster and faster. He balls his fists until his nails bite into his palms and he tries to steady his voice as much as possible, say give it back, that’s mine, you can’t have it.

The big boys just laugh and smash the pumpkin into the ground, shattering it completely. They stomp on it a few times for good measure before stalking off, their noses in the air, their cackles still raging in Merlin’s ears.

He hates them. He falls to his knees and tries to cobble the pumpkin back together but it’s too late. It’s destroyed. It’s gone. He won’t get his pumpkin back.

He wanted to give it to Will. Will, who was too tired to come to the patch this morning. Will, who asked for a pumpkin that they could carve together, because that’s their tradition, they do it every year, and eat the roasted seeds that Merlin’s mother makes as she laughs at their pulp covered clothes.

But now it’s gone.

Merlin glares through watery eyes at the retreating backs of the boys. Oh, how he wants someone here with him, someone who would take one look t his tears and storm after them, knock their heads together, who doesn’t cry when he gets upset.

He wants someone who could stand when Merlin can’t, who could scold the other boys into submission and give them all a good fight if they didn’t get the hint. He wants someone who could come back, panting but still unbruised, and gently help Merlin up, maybe to go find a new pumpkin. He wants someone to be here to tell him it’s alright.

But Will isn’t here. There’s no one else here.

So Merlin gathers up the broken pieces of pumpkin alone.

————————————————

Arthur huddles in his bed, clutching a pillow to his chest, all his curtains drawn, the covers pulled all the way up.

He doesn’t like it when these lords come to visit. They scare him. He’s not supposed to be scared by them but he is.

He doesn’t like the way they look at everything. Like they don’t care about the people that work so hard just to survive. Like Uther is just some pawn in their own games, like Arthur isn’t worth more than a cursory evolution.

He doesn’t like how they change his father. How Uther grows colder, if that’s even possible, how he smiles and it looks like he has too many teeth. How he looks at Arthur like Arthur’s some sort of dog that needs to perform all its tricks to be rewarded with a brisk pat at the end of the night.

So he fakes a cough and gets Gaius to bring him a sleeping potion and curls up, safe in the warmth of his chambers, where no one will come in.

Arthur tightens his grip on the pillow, curling in on himself until he hates the way his legs rub together and sweat makes his skin grow slick. He hates this. He hates this.

He wants the person that went away to come back.

He knows now that there was someone. The older servants, the older nurses, they always exchange a glance whenever they talk about his mother, his birthday. He asked one of them once, if he had a sibling, and they gave him an answer.

It wasn’t a ‘yes,’ but it may as well have been.

He wants them to come back.

He wants someone in this bed with him, curling up to, muring assurances to two frightened boys that they’re both gonna be okay. He wants someone he can protect, to curl himself around and reassure himself that they won’t touch this one, they can’t destroy everything, there’s still something that can be saved.

A low whimper escapes unbidden and Arthur curls even tighter. In the dark, the strands of thread from the pillow almost feel like hair. Dark hair, nestled under his chin, curling into his embrace. He pictures sharp features, skinny arms, and another source of warmth in this too-big bed, too empty room.

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

————————————————

Merlin clutches the blanket that he’s far too old for to his face, curling into the wall of the barn, hidden behind the large stacks of hay.

His magic flits anxiously around him and he swats it away, burying his face into the worn fabric. The smell is gone. The wonderful smell that coaxed him to sleep is no more and he can’t get it back. It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s never coming back and he’s lost it, he’s lost it forever and he’s alone now, he’s alone and he never wants to be alone like this, with just too much magic thrumming in his veins.

It’s not happy either, bustling about, whipping up stray pieces of hay this way and that as Merlin frets, rubbing the fabric back off forth over his lips, his hands unable to stop. His magic wants something to do, something to stop, itching to find whatever’s making Merlin so upset and make it go away. But it can’t, because it’s not the presence of something that’s making Merlin so upset, it’s the absence.

Merlin wants whoever left to find him again.

He asked his mother and she said he came from somewhere else. Is he looking for his father? Is that who left? Or was it someone else?

He wants the other small person back. He remembers his magic aching for them, humming contentedly when they were both together, twirling around and around the pair of them as they lay intertwined. He wants them back, wants them here, wants their scent to settle comfortingly around the both of them until they both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

His magic frets, trying to whisk up something to fix, something to help, but all it manages to do is shine brightly, golden, and form some kind of big blanket, stretching wide over Merlin’s curled-up form, but settling too lightly, always too lightly, never warm enough, never solid enough.

He wants to be found again.

He doesn’t belong here. His mother tries, Will tries, they all try, but it’s not enough. Merlin knows right down to his bones, to his magic, that he doesn’t fit here. This isn’t his home.

He wants whoever was his home to come to find him again.

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

————————————————

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Merlin.”

“So I don’t know you.”

You will, laughs a golden voice on the wind, you already do.

#dragonbabbles #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #fic #merthur fic #arthur pendragon

12 notes · View notes

bnhaxreader-extra-love-to-give · 6 years ago

Note

HC with Todoroki, Bakugo, Iida and Midoriya reacting for their s/o be turned into a baby by a enemy quirk during a whole week, please?

((Today’s extra love is a handshake! What a great idea it was so much fun to write!))

Todoroki

-He rushes to the hospital the second he heard the news.

- You got hit by a villain’s quirk? They refused to tell him the details until he was there in person.

- Once he got there he could only stare in shock, as in your room an infant was in a cradle. Did he have the wrong room?

- He goes over and stares into your eyes before it clicked together “Y/n…?” he questions curiously watching you coo happily.

- He decides to get some classes from the nurses on how to care for a baby. After all, your family was away and the last thing you would want is for them to worry about you.

- After the week he couldn’t deny that he almost enjoyed it.

Bakugo

- He heard on the news what happened, he used his quirk to get to the hospital as fast as he could.

- There’s no way, there’s no way you got turned into a baby right!?

- He quickly rushes into your room staring at the small baby version of you in utter shock.

- “What the fuck…” he mutters under his breath.

- He needed to calm down the first few days, he hunted the person down and brought them to jail.

-He didn’t trust himself enough to watch over you so he instead visited the hospital every day. Having fallen asleep by the cradle when you turn back to normal.

Iida

-He was actually on a mission with you, it was just a simple robbery. He had to go after the car and left the ones captured to you.

- Once he got the money back, he headed back to check on you. People were crowding and taking pictures so Iida quickly steps in moving his hands in a chopping motion.

- “Please stand back! We don’t know what these villains can do and it can be danger-” he turns when he hears a baby crying, seeing a small baby in your pile of clothes.

- The villains had escaped and there you were as a baby. He quickly scoops you up with your clothes running as fast as he could to the hospital. They would know how to help you right?

- He ends up spending the full week at the hospital, learning from the nurses and doctors and helping care for you.

-He would read your homework for the week to you, as well as the books you have to read for class.

Midoryia

- He watched you get turned into a baby while the two of you were fighting a villain.

- He goes as pale as a ghost and doesn’t hold back anymore, thankfully not hurting the villains too badly.

- He quickly grabs you and swaddles you into your clothes, quickly making his way to recovery girl to see if she could help.

- Once he’s told it’d take you a week to get back to normal, he goes to his mom for help.

- She pulls out all the old baby books she had used when caring for Izuku, helping as much as she could.

- When you turn back to normal, you’re on top of Deku who was sleeping soundly on the sofa looking utterly exhausted.

-Master List-

Ko-Fi

#todoroki x reader #bakugo x reader #iida x reader #izuku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons

546 notes · View notes

recipe-for-monsters · 5 years ago

Text

Filled to Brimming

Warning: Vague mentions of NSFW material. No graphic descriptions.

Blitzen loves Gala. He loves how she’s all white like freshly fallen snow. He loves the pink flush that colors her porcelain skin whenever he holds her hand or tells her how beautiful she is or kisses her. He loves the paleness of her delicate hooves. He loves how smart she is. How she can talk circles around him, but always patiently listens to him. He loves when she helps him find the words that he’s missing. Words that explain what he’s thinking and feeling that he never knew existed. He loves her eyes. Blue and bright like a cloudless sky. It’s a shame that she’ll never be able to see how handsome he is, but that’s an unimportant detail when she can discover him with her hands instead. He loves how she cradles his chin and touches his brow and tells him how cute his nose is when she traces it with her fingers.

He loves how warm and soft she is. He loves to wrap his arms around her shoulders and press his toned front against her slightly pudgy middle. He loves to bury his hands in her well-groomed fur and feel the heat emanating from her flanks and find the excited thump of her second heart just between her front legs. He loves how that softness eagerly envelopes him at the most intimate of times. He loves how shy she often is about them coming together, even though she makes it clear that she wants him just as badly as he wants her once they begin. He loves how nowadays, she sometimes comes to him first and murmurs the ways in which she needs him into his ear and he gladly gives her all she could ever want, though he has to be careful now that she’s so big bellied. She’s very nearly full term. If there’s one thing he doesn’t love, it’s how much he worries about her. She’s never carried a calf before, let alone given birth, and she’s so delicate that the little one has swollen her barrel tremendously. Gala says it’s normal. Assures him that her back only aches a little. Tells him how wonderful it is to feel their calf move and kick within her and guides his hand so that he may feel as well. When that doesn’t calm his anxieties, she tells him how she hopes that they will have a little bull and that he will look just like his father. Blitzen tells her that he hopes their calf will have the blue of their mother’s eyes and how he will love them fiercely regardless of whether they are a bull or a cow. He already adores them and adores the times when he speaks and Gala jumps a little because the calf heard his voice and kicked extra hard. When he’s truly frightened of what may happen to her - frightened that she might not be able to handle getting much bigger or handle the strain of labor - he takes her hands and kisses them. He thanks her for carrying their calf when she never had to. He thanks her for choosing him when he believes she could have had any bull in the world. He thanks her for being his light, a shining beacon he can follow home because his home is wherever she is. Gala always smiles and lets him do as he pleases. She lets him kiss her wrists and her palms and every finger and then start again at her wrists, over and over, until she leans down and presses a kiss to the side of his head, mindful of his antlers. She tells him how long she waited for him and how she won’t leave so soon after meeting him because she loves his deep voice and his peculiar accent. She loves the strength of his antlers and how gentle his hands are when holding her. She loves his eyes that can see the world and all the ways he describes it to her. She loves the stories he tells and the traveler’s songs he softly sings to her and the calf nestled in her belly so that they both may sleep well. She loves how hard he works to take care of them. She loves him because it feels like she’s always loved him and he’s always loved her. And then Blitzen is calm. He trusts her judgement. He trusts her strength that is so different from his own, but is everything he needs to ground himself. He trusts her to be alright when she inevitably comes to him, her belly rounder than ever and her beautiful face pinched with pain, and tells him that it’s time. It’s agonizing how long it takes. How long he has to watch her struggle. To see how weak her trembling legs grow until they can’t support her weight. To hear how hard and fast her breathing is. To know how far she’s come and how much farther she still has to go. Blitzen stays with her through it all. He kisses her tears away. He reminds her to breathe. He tells her how she’s always been stronger than he is. Their calf will be here soon, she just needs to push a little more and for a little longer. She can do this. He’ll be right here beside her. Not long now. Almost there. Just one more big push. Eventually, slowly, she relaxes against him. The pain coloring her expression ebbs away into something exhausted, but peaceful. Their calf wails loudly. Cold and wanting their mother’s embrace. Their calf is finally here. Gala is still here as well. She had been right all along and Blitzen’s legs go weak with relief and he can no longer stand. He settles flank-to-flank with her, letting her lean her head against his shoulder while he asks her if she can hear that. Can she hear their calf crying? Gala smiles and assures him she can. The midwife gives her the calf first, all cleaned up and swaddled, and Gala takes them eagerly. Presses the mewling bundle to her bosom. Nuzzles their calf sweetly. Then their arms tangle as the little one is passed from her to him. Gala excitedly asks him what they look like. Do they look like her? Do they look like him? He tells her, with tears in his eyes and a wobbliness in his voice, that they have a little bull that shares his father’s cute nose and carries the brilliant blue eyes of his mother. Gala smiles even wider, tears welling up and slipping down her cheeks, and she kisses him and tells him that she has the perfect name for their wonderful little calf. He will be called Donner. Blitzen, of course, loves his son. He loves Donner and his little nose and his little ears and his little hooves and his little cries and his soft fur the color of a sunset. He loves how he nurses so well. He loves his first stumbling steps. He loves the big smiles he gives his father and the bigger laughs he gives his mother. And, somehow, he finds more room in his hearts and body and soul to fill with his love for Gala, even though he didn’t think such a thing could be possible when he already loved her with everything that he is. He loves her for giving him a family and a place to call home. He loves her because he’s always loved her and she’s always loved him and together their love made a little calf who is as kind as their father and as strong as their mother. Their wonderful little Donner.

#centaur #taur #caribou #reindeer #OC #Gala #Blitzen #Donner #Delivery Caribou #story #drabble #my writing #my art

25 notes · View notes

tamorasky · 5 years ago

Text

Mistress Anna Chapter 7

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Anna was just naive enough to believe it would never happen to her.

Rating: M

Words: 3906

Relationship: Anna/Kristoff, Anna/Hans (ew)

Canadian Frontier AU

AO3

First Chapter

Last Chapter

Masterlist

Notes: Time skip (again) and childbirth in this chapter, PLEASE I have never given birth so if you notice anything wrong/off let me know because everything I know is because of research.

Anna can smell smoke in the air as she sits on the riverbank, looking across the body of water she sees a smoky haze covering the horizon. Prairie fires were always common during mid-July, especially when the intense heat brings lightning storms.

The cramping begins as she continues to create the final touches on the baby blanket, she was finger weaving. Placing a hand on her aching back Anna lets out a groan. She breathes slowly as the uncomfortable sensation passes before going back to the task before her, weaving together the green, purple and blue yarn. The sensation comes back again within ten minutes, knitting her brows together Anna drops the nearly finished blanket on her lap to feel her belly. The muscles contracting in her abdomen as her back begins to ache again. As the pain passes again, she looks to the blanket. She quickly ties off the ends, the various colours intertwined in the fringe. Anna places the blanket over her shoulder, standing back up with much difficulty. She places a hand where her child lay as she meanders back to the fort. The sun uncomfortably beating down on the heavily pregnant woman. She’s relieved when she returns to Arendelle, her back and her feet aching badly as she walks down the road to her home. As she ascends the stairs to the veranda Anna clutches the bannister next to her as the sensation returns, this time much more painful than the last. She pauses as she feels liquid trickling down her leg. Anna wonders for a moment if she has pissed herself, but the lack of odour convinces her otherwise. Her heart pounds in her chest, she has been trying ignoring the signs for the past hour; not wanting to do this right now, she wasn’t ready. To her dismay Hilde opens the front door, taking in the young woman standing on the veranda; noticing the way she grasps the bannister. “I’m fine.” Anna tries to assure the Scottish woman. “When did you start having contractions?” Hilde asks, knowing better than to believe the auburn-haired girl. “I-it’s nothing.” She tries to control her breathing as another contraction begins, struggling to speak through this one. “Upstairs.” Hilde gently takes Anna by her elbow, leading her upstairs. The young woman shakes her head, panic enveloping her as they reach the top of the stairs. “Hilde I’m not ev-” She stops as she feels another one, placing a hand against the wall to support herself. Groaning as she places her free hand on her belly Anna truly realizes what is happening to her. “I’ll send George to get Doctor Perkins. Get to the blue room before you make any more of a mess.” Nodding Anna makes her way to the room, not having the energy to argue with the older woman. Anna meanders to the blue room, to her baby’s room. Hilde doesn’t follow her into the room, instead, the raven-haired woman enters the master bedroom grabbing Anna a nightgown.

The maid helps strip Anna of her brown maternity dress, letting it pool around the young woman’s feet as she rids herself of her undergarments. Hilde holds open the linen nightgown, helping her into it.

As Anna buttons the nightgown with shaking fingers, Hilde leaves the room to inform George of the situation; leaving the terrified young woman alone. She doesn’t lay on the bed, remembering how her mother used to get women who were in labour to walk around the room at this stage. She rocks on the balls of her feet as she stands in front of her window, she wasn’t sure which way Ahtohallan was; but she wants to believe it was in the direction the window overlooked. She leans over resting her hand on the windowsill as the familiar pain radiates through her back to her abdomen. Breathing through the contraction Anna reflects on her childhood watching her mother assist women during childbirth. She imagines what Iduna might say to her if she were here; her mother would rub her back and whisper words of encouragement to help her through this. Anna looks over her shoulder as Doctor Perkin’s enters the room calmly. “Mistress Anna I need you to lie on the bed.” The old man requests, taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Anna shakes her head in response. “No.” She croaks. “I-I need to keep standing it’s easier this way.” “Get on the bed child.” Hilde leads her away from the window to the bed, coaxing the young woman to lay on the bed. Reluctantly Anna lays in the middle of the bed, Doctor Perkins standing at the end of the bed. Her contractions become more painful than the latter, lasting longer than the ones earlier in the day. She has no idea how much time has passed, only focusing on the labour while Doctor Perkins and Hilde move around the room. By the instruction of Doctor Perkins, she begins to push, the transition of bringing her child into the world. Her heart pounds as she pushes, clenching her fists in pain. She always thought women were supposed to yell or scream during this process, but she can’t make any noise as she focuses on birth. She wonders where Hans is if he is sitting in his study or at the trading post while she births their child. This was all wrong with only herself, Hilde and the male doctor in the room. It was nothing like the births she attended with her mother as a child. There was no sage, not even cedarwood to purify the room. She recalls attending a birth in the Cree encampment near Ahtohallan with her mother. The soon-to-be mother was holding her sisters’ hands while the mother smudged the tipi. Nothing like this with no one holding her hand or supporting her. Closing her eyes Anna thinks back to the Cree birth. How every woman in the tipi was doing their part to help the mother. She wants her mother, her sister, Bulda, and Angelique here with her to whisper words of encouragement to her. She wants Kristoff here to wrap his arms around her and support her. Finally, she lets out one cry as her pain transforms into a throbbing ache, easing back onto the pillows. She watches as the doctor holds her baby and hands it to Hilde to briskly swaddle the child as its cry’s echoes through the room. “Here, a girl,” Hilde says, handing the little girl to Anna who tugs the blanket down away from the baby’s face to get a better look; all squashed and nearly purple as she fusses in the scratchy blanket the maid had provided. Anna looks down at her daughter, stroking her forefinger against the baby’s cheek as tears fill her eyes. “Tanishi…ma fii.” She greets her newborn, who continues to wail and thrash wildly. This little girl resting in her arms was Anna’s whole world now. The newborn instinctively wraps her hand around Anna’s finger as she presses a kiss to the auburn-tuft on her daughter’s head, similar to her own. Anna laughs as she watches her daughter wiggle her other arm out of the woollen blanket. Taking hold of the small hand Anna presses a kiss to the back of it. She doesn’t recall the afterbirth process, too enraptured by her daughter; only slightly recalling it was just as painful as the birth. Doctor Perkins leaves shortly after everything was over, Hilde taking the placenta out of the room to be thrown out. Anna thinks back to the Cree birth, how the father of the child would take the placenta and cord out to be buried in the earth; back to mother earth. Not to be tossed away as if it was just waste to be disposed of once it had served its purpose. A smile comes to her face as her baby opens her eyes for the first time, blinking a few times as she squints up at her mother. They were blue, just like hers and Elsa’s. She looks over her daughter, taking notice of every detail of the little girl; the baby was all her. Anna bounces her daughter, trying to calm her as she begins to kick and cry. With much reluctance she removes her other hand from her daughter, unbuttoning the front of her nightgown. She shifts the baby to her chest, so her head was in line with the rest of her tiny body. Biting her bottom lip, Anna realizes she has no idea what she’s doing. What if she won’t latch? She knows her mother had problems with Elsa latching for the first few weeks of her life. A smile comes to her face when she feels the baby’s chin and nose touch Anna’s breast, the young woman pulls the infant’s bottom lip down to ensure she has properly latched. Relief floods over Anna as she hears her daughter suckle, a sense of empowerment coming to her as she feeds her child. Anna holds her daughter over her shoulder once she finishes feeding, gently patting her small back to force a burp. She doesn’t care when the baby spits up on the shoulder and down the back of her nightgown. Bringing her daughter back down to cradle the baby in her arms, Anna stares down at the most perfect thing she’s ever created. Hilde enters the room-clearing her throat to break Anna’s gaze away from her baby. “I think it’s time to get you cleaned up Mistress Anna.” “Doesn’t Hans want to come to see her?” Her forehead creases in confusion about why the maid was in such a hurry to clean the room. “He will, once the room has been cleaned. Now stand up, put the child down and we’ll get you changed.” Anna sighs shifting forward on the bed and hisses in pain as she slowly stands from the bed. Hilde steps forward, going to take the baby from Anna who reluctantly hands the older woman her child. She chews her lip as she watches Hilde put the baby in her oak bassinet. “Arms up,” Hilde demands as she walks back to the young woman, who complies with the order as the woman pulls the nightgown off of Anna. The auburn-haired girl’s gaze remains on the bassinet, where the baby was fussing and crying. “Let me get her,” Anna says walking over to her daughter. “Leave her be. She won’t ever learn if you dot on her constantly, now let’s get you dressed.” Hilde dresses Anna in another white nightgown, very similar to the one that she had given birth in. The young woman buttons up the white garment as Hilde strips the bed clean, throwing the bloodied sheets in a heap on the floor. While the maid isn’t looking Anna strides back over to the crib, picking her daughter up and leaving the scratchy blanket in the bassinet. In the pile of discarded clothing, Anna notices the blanket she had finished earlier. Anxiously Anna squats to the ground, picking up the blanket with her free hand and throws it over her shoulder, standing slowly. Hilde scrutinizes the young woman holding her naked babe, shaking her head. “Best get her covered before Mr. Westergaard comes to see her.” The maid overturns the quilt on the bed and leaves the room without another word. Anna places the baby down on the quilt, laying the blanket beside her in a triangle. Picking up the baby Anna puts her down in the middle of the soft fabric. She smiles as she successfully swaddles her baby tightly in the finger woven blanket. Delicately Anna picks the little girl up again, hissing in pain again as she crawls back under the covers. “Much better?” Anna asks the baby, stroking her small cheek with her forefinger again as the little girl’s eyes flutter shut. “I thought so.” She presses a kiss to her forehead, savouring the little girl’s soft skin against her lips. Anna looks up as she hears the door open Hans walk through the threshold of the room. She grins at him, feeling proud of what she had accomplished that evening. “We have a girl.” She whispers as he comes to the side of the bed, sitting in the space next to his country wife. With pride, Anna holds their baby to her lover, who gently takes the small girl from her mother’s arms. Tucked into the crook of his arm, Hans stares down at his daughter; his face unreadable as he regards the newest member of his family. He hands the baby to Anna, standing as the young woman takes the baby back into her arms. “Where are you going?” Anna asks, shifting the baby in her arms. “We still have to name her.” Hans turns around to stare at his county wife and child, tucking thumbs into his pockets. “Typically, Anna, Westergaard men only partake in the naming process if the child is a boy…I leave it to you to name the child.” Anna watches her lover leave the room, staring back at her baby with a smile; not finding the will to care about the way Hans reacted to their daughter. She rocks her little girl back and forth lightly trying to decide on her name; after all, she couldn’t be referred to as baby for the rest of her life. “I wish you could tell me,” Anna says, brushing her fingers against the soft blanket her daughter is swaddled in. Her heart swells as the baby peers up at her again with those bright blue eyes. Anna stills as she gazes into her daughter’s eyes, pressing a kiss to her cheek again. “Tanishi…Eliza.” Eliza Iduna. For her sister and her mother; two women she misses dearly and who she hopes her daughter will take after. Anna drifts off to sleep, Eliza still sleeping soundly in her arms.

Normally Anna would protest being ordered to stay in bed all day, but with Eliza in her arms the new mother found it to be a blessing. Eliza lays on the bed as Anna re-swaddles her daughter, holding her little arm close to her body as she folds the blanket around her. Anna works fast hoping to stop her daughter from crying. “Is that better?” She asks with a smile as she picks the whimpering baby up. Knowing Eliza wasn’t hungry Anna rocks her gently, managing to get her cries to die down. “Yeah I thought so, the last thing we need is Hilde getting mad at us.” Anna brushes her nose against Eliza’s, holding her tiny body against her chest. She stares outside at the blue sky, the same colour as her daughter’s eyes. “I can’t wait to show you everything.” She whispers as she looks back down at Eliza, who peers up at her mother with interest. Eliza was all her; same eyes, same hair, she knew it was too early to tell but Anna already knew her daughter was going to take after her. A knock echoes throughout the room, tearing Anna’s gaze away from her baby. Furrowing her brows, the young woman is unsure who is at the door, Hilde never knocks, and Hans is working. “Come in.” She calls. The door opens revealing much to Anna’s surprise her father standing on the other side of the door, holding a parcel. “Father…what are you doing here?” Agnarr steps through the door towards his daughter. “I heard my granddaughter was born last evening. I came to make sure everything was well with you two.” “We are well…we are very well…” Anna awkwardly trails off, staring at her father. “Would you like to hold her?” “I would like that.” He nods, placing the parcel next to his youngest. “This is for you.” Anna cautiously hands her daughter to Agnarr, who holds her with the same gentleness. She pulls the large parcel onto her lap, tearing at the brown paper that contains the object. Her hands still when she sees the object, shaking as they hover over the delicate flower beading. Tikinagan- a mossbag. She looks up at her father with tears pooling in her eyes. “Wh-where did you get this?” Anna stutters, still not touching the object. Agnarr tears his eyes away from his granddaughter to his daughter. “Elsa gave it to me at your mother’s wake.” He states, looking back down at the baby in his arms. “Elsa made it?” She questions, studying the beading and embroidery on the brown deer hide. It doesn’t look like Elsa’s craftwork; the stitching wasn’t right to be. “No, she didn’t. Your mother made it for the baby before she...” Agnarr trails off, blinking away tears forming in his eyes. “What’s her name?” “Eliza,” Anna informs him. “Eliza Iduna.” Her father looks back up her a small smile coming to his face. “It’s beautiful, she’s beautiful.” The blonde man hands Eliza back to his daughter. “I must be going, but Elsa insisted I give you the bag after the baby was born.” “Thank you, Father.” She smiles up at her father as he grabs the discarded paper and leaves the room without another word. With her free hand, Anna unbinds the mossbag, revealing a thin linen blanket bunched on the inside of the papoose. Looking at the mossbag then back to Eliza, Anna knows it was too big to fit her daughter; something her mother would’ve done on purpose so her granddaughter could grow into it. She places her daughter back on the bed, unwrapping the infant gently. Folding the blanket in half Anna places it in the mossbag, rolling up the sides so they would nestle Eliza. The young woman spreads the linen blanket over the mossbag and blanket, placing Eliza on the linen and ensures she was nestled between the rolled sides of the blanket. Anna folds the bottom of the blanket over Eliza’s tiny legs, before swaddling her tightly in the fabric. She shifts her daughter, so her body and the blankets lay in the middle of the mossbag and grab the deer hide lace. Anna laces the moss bag up tightly, watching Eliza’s face to make sure she isn’t hurting the baby. Gently Anna picks her up, her body cumbersome and stuff, causing the young mother to smile as she knows she’s bound her daughter correctly. As a child, the idea of binding a baby into a tight mossbag horrified Anna. She remembers her mother telling her that the mossbag was a comfort to a baby, it reminded them of the womb and made babies feel safe and secure on the back of their mothers. She recalls her mother tapping her on the nose, tell her that as a baby Iduna hardly bound Anna in a mossbag; which was where she had gotten her wild spirit. Whereas Elsa had nearly lived in hers for the first 6 months of her life, which was why the eldest daughter was much more reserved. Anna laughs that Eliza is already drifting off to sleep, secure in her papoose. The deer hide is soft against Anna’s skin, as much as it pains her that there are so many layers between them, she knows her baby was comfortable. She can’t wait till Hilde will let her out of this bed to take Eliza on walks in her mossbag, show her the river and the animals. Anna can’t wait till she can start eating solid food and see Eliza’s face when she first eats Saskatoon berries and chokecherries. She wishes she could take the baby to Ahtohallan and bring her on the buffalo hunts; the older women would dot on the baby and insist on caring for her during the day. Anna thinks of all the mothers with their babies strapped to their backs while they deconstructed the buffalo. How these women always seemed so strong and resilient as they hauled parts of the beast to their cart with their children resting on them. She would never do that with her daughter. But the young woman knows there would be many experiences she and Eliza would go through together. They just wouldn’t be the same experiences she had growing up. While a part of her mourns this, Anna also feels content knowing Eliza was all hers.

She unwraps Eliza when it’s time to feed her again, wanting to feel her daughter against her skin once more. Anna rubs her thumbs against the baby’s back as she suckles at her mother’s breast. Hilde enters the room much to the disappointment of Anna, knowing the maid was coming to ensure the baby would be sleeping in her bassinet tonight; cutting off her skin-to-skin bonding with her daughter. Anna swaddles Eliza in the linen blanket as it would get warm in the room overnight due to Hilde lighting the fireplace. Reluctantly Anna hands her daughter to the maid, who places her in the bassinet. “Has Hans gone to bed?” Anna asks. He hadn’t been to see her or the baby all day, making the young woman begin to miss him. “I believe he has,” Hilde says, turning away from the baby to grab Anna’s empty dinner tray. “Anything you need for the night?” Anna shakes her head, leaning back onto the pillows. “No Hilde, thank you.” The raven-haired maid leaves the room without another word, closing the door behind her. Staring at the crib she contemplates bringing Eliza back to the bed to cuddle with her for the night. While the young woman thinks this over, she drifts off to sleep without her daughter in her arms. The door is open when Anna wakes in the middle of the night, the candle that sits next to her bed extinguished. She stares at the door her forehead creasing as she stands to check on Eliza. Her heart pounds increasingly at a rapid pace as she approaches the bassinet, finding her daughter missing from it. She stalks out of the room, looking down the hall towards the stairs. Hoping she’d be able to spot whoever had taken her daughter. As Anna steps out into the hall she notices the door to her and Hans’ bedroom open. Silently padding down the hall Anna makes out his silhouette in the moonlight, standing by the window. She wipes her palms against her nightgown as she slowly approaches, staring at her lover warily. “H-Hans?” She calls out, her chest constricting as she walks into the room. He doesn’t acknowledge her, continuing to stare out of the window. Anna walks up beside the auburn-haired man, relief flooding over her as she sees Eliza sleeping peacefully in his arms. Anna peers up at her lover, trying to read his face as he stares down at their child. He clears his throat. “She looks exactly like you Anna.” “A-are you upset?” She asks, afraid of his answer. Unsure what she would do if he affirms his disappointment or anger towards hers. To her surprise, Hans shakes his head, finally staring at his country wife with a small smile. “On the contrary, she’ll be the perfect lady.” Anna snakes her arms around his bicep, leaning against Hans as they both stare down at their daughter. Staring at the baby’s round face Anna smiles, knowing she had made the right choice nearly one year ago.

#kristanna #kristoff bjorgman #anna of arendelle #frozen #frozen 2 #Canadian Frontier Au #Fur Trade au #anna #kristoff

21 notes · View notes