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ready-to-read7 · 6 months ago

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The Ice Prince

(I am not the best writer But I’m doing my best)

the nuke that the GIW had created, was devastating and catastrophic, destroying Danny’s entire home universe with only a few survivors and unfortunately none of them were human only the halfas had survived.

And the blast had even reached the infinite realm, but the ghost King Phantom/Danny had used his own power to stop it from causing any devastation to the realms but in return he was weaken and badly injured, every ghost was terrified of what would happen to the king but clockwork had a solution, he used his powers to de-age Danny down to maybe a month old so that his body would have enough power to keep him alive in a smaller form. Every ghost was terrified for the safety and well-being of their king especially considering he was not fully ghost so they knew he couldn’t stay in the ghost zone for long especially now, so while clockwork and the yetis was looking for a dimension for Danny to stay in Vlad, Dan and Dani as his only remaining family were making preparations for his new living circumstances, preparing caretakers creating a layout for his new home and even picking out and having toys and clothing created.

Clockwork in the end with the help of the yetis end up successfully finding a dimension that will both meet Danny’s ghost needs and human needs perfectly and with the designs provided by Danny’s family, they started creating a beautiful ice castle for him, and once it was finished it was transported to the dimension in the Arctic.

_________________________________________________

Meanwhile at the watchtower the alarm started going off alerting the justice league on a unknown entity/entities in the Arctic near the fortress of solitude, alarmed supermen wants to immediately go to the Arctic but Batman refuses him to go alone offering to go with him.

Once they reached the fortress of solitude, they do not notice anything out of the ordinary, but as they search, they find a small Castle not too far away in the crevice of a cave, Superman at first tried to use his x-ray vision to see you what or who was inside but something was preventing him from doing that so both determined to figure out if the beings inside are a threat they enter the castle.

As they explore Batman and Superman come across many different rooms, first they find a kitchen, then they find the storage room, a living room, and a few more before they hear footsteps, they decided to hide in the closet nearby and what they see is a bunch of living ice statues walking past them with trays blankets and many other things, they decide to go in the direction opposite to that of the living ice statues.

They eventually come across a large room with two green-skinned humanoid creatures with dragon-like features inside, the two creatures were looking down at something that neither Superman and Batman could see what it was, after a few minutes, one of the Dragon like creatures turned off the lights and unfolded there large wings, gave a few flaps and flew out alongside their companion out of a large window.

Once Batman and Superman were sure the Dragon like creatures were gone, they entered the room, and, Batman would be looking around while Superman would look for the light switch, and once he did what they found was confusing, the largest room in this building was a nursery with a crib in the middle with a space theme mobile above it, and they both would be confused why the largest room in this building was a nursery, they would then approached the crib to find a baby more shockingly a human baby by its appearance, Black hair with the faintest of freckles across his face accompanied by his light skin that could mistake him as dead, wrapped in the finest silk blanket they have ever seen while wearing some sort of Greek clothing.

Batman terrified that the child might be dead turns to Superman to silently ask whether the child has a heartbeat or not. Superman would take a moment to listen and would then inform Batman that the child does have a heartbeat and unnaturally slow one but a heartbeat, nonetheless.

While Batman’s trying to figure out what the situation is, Superman is fearing that the child was kidnapped, he would pick up the baby wanting to take him back to the watchtower to have a proper checkup done on the child, when Superman told Batman that he wants to take the baby back to the watchtower for a proper checkup Batman would counter saying that the Dragon like creatures are probably his parents, before Superman can protest they hear the Dragon like creatures returning, and in panic they both flee and Superman not realizing that he still has the baby in his arms carries the baby away from the castle.

Somehow neither Batman or Superman realized that Superman had the baby until they reached the JL base, and once they do realize Batman start scolding Superman for stealing a child especially from a species that they aren’t fully aware of or know anything about. Superman counters that the child had no features from either of the possible parents and could be an infant that the two Dragon-like people stole from Earth so that they could playhouse.

While the entire Justice league is split on siding with either Superman or Batman who are both giving valid reasons for why their point of view is correct, the Green Lanterns are trying to find the origin of the Dragon-like people or more specifically where they are from.

As they argued the volume continued to increase eventually resulting in the child waking up still cradled in Superman’s arms. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes like ice shards reflecting the beauty of the sky looked up at them and as the infant yawned it gave a cute grumpy little face indicating that he was upset that they interrupted his nap time.

Once everyone noticed the baby was awake, they started cooing and absolutely adoring the baby and the flash that was literally vibrating from excitement would run up to the baby so he can hold the infant, but the moment Danny spotted the slightest amount of electricity coming from the flash he immediately started crying and wailing.

The cry was loud, not loud enough to destroy the JL base but loud enough that anyone with enhance hearing had to cover their ears to try and avoid going def, Batman then immediately grabs the child from Superman and thanks to his years of experience with helping calm down small children and infants he calms the baby down, which is a relief to everyone.

After Batman managed to calm down the baby until he was only slightly whimpering, a very pale and panic Constantine,Dr. fate and zattana burst into the room, as they entered they started searching and scouring each nook and cranny of the room until their eyes landed on the whimpering child still in batman’s arms, Constantine immediately goes even paler something no one knew could happen and in his frazzled state he would scream demanding to know why there was a child of the infinite realms in batman’s arms. but nobody knows what the infinite realms are so while Constantine was drowning in his own panic, Dr. fate and zattana would explain to everyone what the infinite realms are, and Batman would explain the situation back telling them how Superman had taken the baby from an ice castle near the fortress of solitude.

Superman realizing his mistake offers to take the child back immediately but before he could the alarms at the base started to go off again, cyborg who was the closest immediately started typing across the computer in order to see if there was any world ending threat but what they see made all the magic users take a double take on what they were seeing.

A man with a blue skin tone whose hair is unbound by gravity and behaves like fire and blood red eyes alongside two more people, one of them who looks like a vampire who also has a bluish skin tone and the other one looks like a female version of the first one but younger and also with green eyes and a more humanoid skin tone.

Zattana would then stutter out loud and ask herself why on earth King Phantom is destroying government facilities alongside the Count Masters as well as Princess Spector, of the Infinite Realms. she would also ask herself why they were specifically targeting government facilities.

But then a giggle along with some clapping of tiny hands would catch their attention as they turn around to see the baby still in Batman’s hands happily giggling and clapping their hands as they started grabbing out towards the screen specifically towards the three people on the screen.

Constantine would look at the screen and then at the child and he would see similarities between King Phantom and the child, the dots will then connect in his head and he would start having a strata panic attack and before anyone could realize what was going on Constantine would scream at Superman telling him that he just kidnapped the son of the king of the infinite realms.

________________________________________________

Dan, Vlad and Dani were all frantically searching for Danny since he randomly disappeared from the ice castle and due to past experiences, all three of them thought it was some form of government who took him so they immediately start destroying every government facility they could find so that they could find Danny.

They had gotten through 15 government facilities with no luck of finding Danny, until they were approached by three weirdly dressed individuals who addressed dan as King Phantom Dan was obviously confused at first and so was Vlad and Dani but Dan eventually realize that they probably think that he is Danny because of their similarities and the fact that no one knows that Danny is now in infant, Dan thinking that it would be funny decided to play along and he used his core to communicate with Vlad and Dani.

Funny, play along, funny, help find Danny,

Dan would then float over to the three weirdly dressed individuals and ask them what they want because he’s kind of busy,

The very strong looking woman would bow down to him and ask him if he is looking for his child.

Dan then applies himself properly telling them that he is indeed looking for his child and if they try and stop him, he won’t hold back.

The strong looking woman then introduces herself as Diana/wonder woman and reassures Dan that they are not here to stand in his way, she instead tells him that she actually knows where his child is.

Dan raises an eyebrow, and addresses wonder woman telling her to describe the child, so he makes sure that they are talking about the right kid.

Wonder woman would then talk describing Danny, black hair, blue eyes, pale skin with freckles and she would even mention the unbelievable loud cry that left many members of the JL disorientated.

Dan realizing that they actually have Danny and would ask her who they are and why they have Danny, wonder woman seeing the rage billed in his eyes would invite him back to the watchtower so he could retrieve his child and that they can explain the situation to him, dan agrees.

As they were going up to the watchtower dan, Vlad and Dani would speak in ghost dialect to each other.

Dan: so, these people think I am phantom, and I think we should keep up the act because it’s safer for Danny if they believe I am him and that he is my son.

Dani: that makes sense but what am I then?

Dan: while we don’t have to change the fact that you are his sister so just continue just pretend to be his older sister.

Dani: ok :D

Vlad: what about me?

Dan: I don’t know old man pretend to be his grandfather.

Vlad: ok :/

once they reached the main room of the watchtower, Dani immediately zooms into the room right in front of batman politely asking him if she can have her little brother, batman who had gotten Danny to fall asleep again would then give the baby to her.

She would then float over to Dan and gives Danny to him, Dan and Vlad then look over Danny to make sure he has no injuries and then Dan would address the group asking them what happened and why his son was here, Batman would then explained that they got an alert about something near the fortress of solitude and that alert would be the castle where they found the baby and Superman thought it was a human child that was stolen so he ended up accidentally kidnapping the baby.

Dan would have given Danny to Vlad as he uses his fingers to rub his nose in annoyance before giving a sigh of relief thanking the ancients that it wasn’t some government facility that kidnapped him wanting to experiment on him, the justice league especially the magic users would get very concerned by the comment and dani realizing that they might be confused, would explain that in another world a government facility had labelled all beings from the infinite realms as not sentient and started kidnapping and experimenting on them, but that universe no longer existed mainly due to the idiotic actions of the government facility blowing up their own universe.

Dan would then turn to Vlad and tell him that they’re going to need to move the castle and maybe add a bit more security, Superman would then speak up saying that they could keep the castle where it is and they will make sure no one will go near it without authorization.

Dan would look at Superman and nod his head, but would still remarking to Vlad that they still need to increase the security since no one should be able to get near his little sunshine (he holds back the need to throw up after saying that), batman would look at Dan wanting to ask questions but even he knew now was not the best time also he could feel someone staring daggers into the back of his neck something that didn’t bother him nor cared about but he didn’t want to give Constantine a heart attack not yet at least.

Dan would then open a portal directly to the ice castle and would give his farewells to the Justice league as he went through Vlad with Danny in his arms following close behind and dani just after them and once the portal closed all the magic users in the room gave a sigh of relief along with a few of the other heroes who based on Constantine’s reaction understood the severity of the situation

And in the meantime, Dan, Vlad and Dani would be settling Danny back in his room and would be arranging more security and more caretakers since they do not want another situation like this.

@unadulteratedsoulsweets

(If there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes or anything like that just ignore them I'm not going back to fix them)

Original prompt here

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt

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levvthan · 4 months ago

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dad! heisenberg headcannons - heisenberg x f! reader

♡ I've been thinking recently, which is not a good thing.

I’ve been wondering what Karl would be like in a family dynamic, free from Miranda, with his own wife and some kids.

Prepare yourself for some silly, modern, random ass headcannons!

♡ overly protective of his family

due to his past he carries a heavy weight of trauma on his shoulders, even though he doesn't realise it

so, over protective is actually an understatement

after finding out you were pregnant he'd end up booby trapping the house in order to keep you safe

if anyone was to hurt one of his family members the next thing you'd see was their house on the news, with a car wedged through the window... literally

his kids being bullied? the school will be having a very lengthy conversation with him, through their now broken office door

he's crap at regulating his emotions, but he tries extremely hard to learn how manage them after scaring his family once or twice

after a few years you'd managed to get him to calm down a bit, reassuring him that nothing bad would ever happen to you or his family

eventually, he did replace the boobytraps with a security system

♡ cant cook for shit

anytime him and his s/o would try to cook together, it’d always end up in a kitchen feud

sticking to the recipe? nonsense.

he’d be adamant that he knew what he was doing *cue the rare beef he’d dropped on the floor*

he'd end up stock piling ready meals in the fridge, along side his many cans of stellar

you would have to chide him for leaving empty microwave burger packets scattered around the kitchen

when summer came around, he’d be adamant that he could work the grill, until he manages to somehow charcoal everything to dust

“here you go kids, eat up.” … *insert image of RE7 food*

♡ DIY expert

almost everything in your home would be built by his bare hands

when it came to repairs, there was no need for a handyman, daddy karl’s on the case immediately

instead of buying furniture he’d insist on making it himself

when his first child was born he built them their own crib, with its own built in cot mobile

his baby would absolutely adore the lullabies it played… until the old media player he’d hooked up to it started to turn static

he’d also insist on making his children their own toys

however, they’d always end up being some sort of mechanical uncanny valley trinket

regardless, his kids still loved whatever toys he’d make them… leaving everyone else a bit creeped out

♡ chaotic vacations

he’d end up packing one outfit, his coat, hat, sunglasses and a pair of underwear, maybe two pairs

“What do you mean you only have one change of clothes, Karl?” … “But you packed two boxes of cigars and a wrench?!”

he’d be fully locked in during booking at the airport

however, if the flight had been delayed he’d probably end up getting you all blacklisted

once his family boards the plane, he’d offer his kid the window seat

“Daddy, I’m scared.” … “Don’t worry kiddo, as of last year only 28 planes crashed, and only a few hundred people were killed.”

and no… he wouldn’t clap when the plane landed… only when it’d take off to cheer his now crying child up

at the beach he’d complain about how hot it was, since he’s so used to living in cold climates

you’d have to facepalm yourself out of embarrassment when he pulls up with his hammer, which had somehow passed airport security

"Darling, it's for protection." *smashes open a coconut*

his kids would hound him to play or build sand castles with them

but he'd end up taking it a bit too far, as he shows you around the fully functioning fortress of sand and metal scrap

♡ bedtime stories? more like horror scripts

whenever you're too tired to put your kids to bed Karl would instead

you'd have to hope that you wouldn't end up with your children in your bed, due to a nightmare

"And then, the big bad Lycan jumped out of the bushes, it's fangs bared and blood soaked, as he ate the man alive - screaming for his life!"

needless to say, you ended up having to buy child friendly story books for him to read from

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg #lord heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil village #x reader #headcannons #re village

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bitchinbarzal · 5 months ago

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Echo of a heartbeat | N Hischier

summary: after the loss of their baby they can’t find it in them to move on.

Newark’s winter felt as cold and heavy as the sadness that had taken over Nico and Y/N’s small apartment. Once filled with dreams and plans for a baby, the home now echoed with a silence that cut deep. They had lost their baby halfway through the pregnancy, and every room reminded them of the hope they once shared.

In the nursery, the loss was felt most sharply. The walls, once chosen with care for a future filled with lullabies and soft giggles, now seemed to close in on Y/N. The crib stood empty, and a simple mobile, meant to sway gently above the bed, hung there as a quiet relic of what might have been. Y/N would sit in the old rocking chair for hours, cradling a tiny onesie in her hands — a piece of fabric that now held nothing but memories and pain.

Nico tried to keep his life moving on the ice. His teammates noticed the haunted look in his eyes and the way he moved like he was going through the motions, even as his heart stayed stuck at home. Every time he returned to Newark after a game, he hoped for a sign that Y/N was still with him, still fighting against the dark cloud that had taken hold of her.

But each day, Y/N seemed to slip further away. In the quiet of the apartment, she rarely left the nursery.

Sometimes, Nico would find her curled up on the floor with a soft baby blanket wrapped around her, as if that fragile fabric could hold her together.

He would approach her gently, asking her to talk, to share even a small part of the pain she felt. But her answers were few and far between, often just a whispered “I don’t know how to do this anymore”

One night, Nico returned home to find the nursery door closed. His heart sank as he knocked softly, calling her name, but there was no answer. Later, when he discovered a small note left on the kitchen table in Y/N’s shaky handwriting, his world seemed to crumble even further. The note read, “I can’t do this anymore, Nico. I need space” In that moment, he realized that despite all his efforts, the darkness that had taken hold of Y/N was growing too strong.

In the days that followed, the apartment grew even quieter. Y/N spent more and more time in the nursery, isolating herself behind the closed door. Nico would leave little reminders of his love; a warm cup of tea waiting on the counter, a handwritten note left on her pillow hoping that she might feel a spark of the person she once was. But each gesture was met with silence. With every passing day, it felt as if the distance between them grew wider, as if the loss had built an unyielding wall between their hearts.

Nico’s attempts to reach out only seemed to push Y/N further away. Even though he held her close when she cried, the pain in her eyes told him that her struggle was deeper than he could ever understand. The vibrant life they had once imagined together was gone, replaced by a constant, overwhelming grief that neither could escape.

Every morning, Nico awoke with the hope that today might be the day Y/N would open up, that the cold emptiness in the nursery would be replaced by a sign of life.

Instead, he found only the lingering scent of baby powder and the quiet, steady sound of her soft sobs behind a locked door. The love they had once shared now felt fragile.

The loss was a heavy burden, and for Y/N, it felt like living in a world without color. The baby they had hoped for was now just a memory.

As days turned into weeks, Nico found himself caught between holding onto hope and the harsh reality that his efforts might never bring Y/N back from the edge of her despair.

One rainy afternoon, as grey clouds hung low over Newark, Nico sat by the window watching raindrops race down the glass he thought of the future that had been taken from them and of the baby whose absence filled every room.

He missed Y/N’s laughter, her gentle touch, and the light she once brought into his life. But now, all he felt was an aching emptiness that no amount of love seemed able to fill.

That evening, after another long, hard day on the ice, Nico came home to a silence that felt final. Y/N was not in the living room, and the nursery door remained locked, as it had for so many days. In that silence, Nico understood that the woman he loved had retreated so far into her grief that there was nothing left for him to hold on to. The darkness had won, and despite his every effort, Y/N had slipped away into a pain that he could not reach.

Nico clutched the note she had left and sat in the dim light of their once happy home, surrounded by memories of hope now turned to sorrow. The future they had dreamed of was gone, and in its place was a lingering sadness that no time could erase. In that quiet, empty room, Nico realized that sometimes love is not enough to save someone.

The echoes of what once was filled the apartment—a constant reminder of a light that had been lost. And in the end, the silence of the empty nursery stood as a final testament to a love that could not overcome the shadow of loss.

He had lost his daughter and his wife.

#nhl imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine

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seriouslysnape · 1 year ago

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Morning Shift

Dad! Severus Snape x Mom! Fem! Reader x Baby Tags: Fluff. Sev being a good dad. Reader getting rest she deserves <3. Baby being a cutie. Word Count: 2.0k "I didn't mean to oversleep."

☾☾☾☾

It was quite rare for you to have the chance to sleep in.

Even before the baby was born, you were pretty much up and going by dawn every day. It made you feel more productive to get up early and get the day started before the sun even had the chance to fully rise.

An occasional Saturday or Sunday would roll around where neither you nor Severus were in any rush to get up and moving. Those were during the slower weeks of the year, usually during the summer when Severus wasn't teaching and your work wasn't as demanding.

But after the baby was born, those occasional lazy weekend days had become pretty much obsolete. The mornings and nights had become less hectic as your newborn transitioned into an infant, and she was on somewhat of a sleeping schedule. However, when the baby was up, so were you.

Severus gave his fair share of helping out with the baby at all times of the day, but typically, Severus tended to her the most in the evenings. Severus usually fed her dinner, bathed her, and prepared her for her early bedtime.

It wasn't intentional really, but the two of you fell into a routine where you handled the mornings, the two of you rotated off during the day, and Severus handled the evenings/nights. Severus would help anytime when needed, but for the most part, that was the best arrangement.

On one particular weekend morning, however, the routine was different.

Severus awoke to a quiet house. There wasn't the sound of his wife stirring in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him and the baby who would no doubt be babbling for her breakfast.

He felt a presence in the bed next to him, a gentle warmth coming from it as well. He was surprised to see you were still asleep, bundled up in the covers as comfortable as could be.

The warm glow of the newly risen sun beamed through the windows of the bedroom, spilling over your back that was facing the glass. He watched you only for a moment, pushing some stray hairs from your eyes and pulling the covers higher on you to keep you toasty.

It made his heart swell to see you getting some extra rest on your day off, and he made it his mission to let you sleep as long as possible. He was more than happy to be on baby duty that morning and a change of routine was a bit exciting.

The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 a.m. which did alarm him briefly. It was twelve minutes past the baby's usual wake up time, which meant either she was getting some extra sleep as well, or she was storming mad that no one had come to pick her up to begin her day.

Severus was quiet as he crept out of bed, his footfalls quiet as he exited your bedroom to enter the baby's room just next door. Severus always left the baby's nursery door slightly cracked in the event the baby needed something during the night or woke up earlier than usual.

He pushed the door open gently, a burst of sunlight painting the hallway. The room was perfectly warm for a January morning, a vast difference from the bitter cold on the outside.

He glanced at the crib, seeing some movement in the crib. She was squirming excitedly, happy that someone was finally coming to get her up for the day.

She was awake, but not agitated in the slightest that no one had come to get her yet. She was content to lie in her crib for a little while, the charmed mobile above her crib keeping her entertained. She couldn't have been awake for very long, considering it was only a few minutes after her usual wake up time.

Severus approached her crib with a gentleness that few knew he possessed. His dark eyes, so often narrowed with sternness, softened when they gazed upon his child.

"Good morning, darling." He smiled, reaching down to pick up the cooing baby.

His daughter smiled back at him with a sleepy grin and sluggish eyes, but held an expression of confusion as to why her mother wasn't there to wake her like usual.

"Not expecting me this morning, hm?" He asked, which only returned a yawn from his daughter. "We'll let Mum sleep in this morning. She deserves it."

The eight-month-old only babbled in response, mouthing at Severus' shoulder through his T-shirt. You and Severus were pretty sure she had some teeth coming in based on the fact that she wanted to chew on everything.

Usually you dressed the baby as the first step of her morning routine, but it was the weekend so she would more than likely be home for the majority of the day. Severus opted to leave her in her pajamas for now, which she had no protests with.

She was rather clingy today, her tiny hands grabbing for him to pick her up again once she was dressed. She knew that if anyone in the world would pick her up whenever she wished, I was Severus.

Severus struggled with leaving her when she wanted to be picked up. You had been telling Severus for the last month or so that it is indeed okay to let her sit on her own as long as she's being supervised. She was beginning to work towards crawling, and you knew the only way she was ever going to learn to crawl was if she had the chance to be on the ground.

But Severus couldn't resist his daughter's grabby hands and beaming eyes. He spoiled the little girl, and he just couldn't tell her no.

He whisked her down the stairs, smiling at her giggles when he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Severus knew it was time for breakfast, and he knew that she was going to get fussy if he didn't get her fed soon. He slipped her into her highchair, her legs wiggling as she squirmed with anticipation.

"What would you like for breakfast, princess?" He asked, only receiving an interested stare in response. "I know you like eggs...and I think Mum picked up some fruit yesterday."

Severus turned and surveyed the inside of the fridge, studying its contents to make a decision. She was getting impatient, whining and babbling for Severus to hurry up. She was on a specific schedule, and her late wake up time had her about fifteen minutes behind.

Severus went with his suggestion on the premise that eggs and fruit were a safe option. She wasn't terribly picky, but since this wasn't her usual routine, he figured giving her something that he knew she liked was best.

Severus selected a few eggs from the fridge, deciding to cook them all and divide the portion appropriately between himself, you, and the baby. He knew it wouldn't be long before you were up, so he got started on getting a pot of coffee brewed as well.

With a wave of his wand, the stove ignited and began cooking the eggs in a pan while he worked on getting some fruit mashed up for her.

"Strawberries or a banana?" He asked her, who was more interested in dancing in her chair than picking which fruit she wanted.

Severus was certain that she hadn't eaten strawberries before. He took a chance and went with the strawberries, retrieving a few and getting them smushed enough to be suitable for baby consumption. He plated the eggs once they were cooked,

He pulled up a chair to her highchair, holding the tiny baby spoon and bowl in his hand to begin feeding her baby spoonfuls of her breakfast.

She made a noise of approval with the strawberries, barely even swallowing before motioning for more. For an eight-month-old, she was a fantastic eater and would try nearly anything.

Your daughter giggled, her eyes sparkling with the sight of her dad in front of her. Severus couldn't help but feel a tug at his heartstrings. This was a side of him that no one else got to see, a side reserved only for his precious little one.

He felt so incredibly lucky to have a child. He felt even more blessed to raise her and love her in the ways he never was. He wasn't a perfect father by any means, but he made it his personal mission to never give her a reason to think of him as a bad father.

When her noises slowed and she hesitated to take any more bites of food, Severus stopped feeding her and began cleaning up. Slowly but surely, she was fed to satisfaction -- and Severus managed to fill himself up by getting bites in between feeding her.

Her face and shirt was painted with stains of sticky red from the strawberries, but she was happy as a clam and not at all concerned about the fact that she would most certainly need a bath.

Severus stood at the sink, letting her entertain herself while he arranged the dishes to be washed. When she gave a particularly joyous squeal, he knew that she had spotted something that she liked.

You were up now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen just freshly awake.

"Good morning, you two." You spoke gently, still clad in your sleepwear from the night before.

Severus turned, grinning at you with a small pink tint in his cheeks.

"Good morning, darling. We've just had breakfast." He smiled at you, his wife who he adored so dearly.

"I see that. You should've woke me up," You said. "I didn't mean to oversleep."

"Nonsense, darling. You needed the rest, and I am perfectly capable of taking on breakfast," He said. "I...assumed eggs and fruit were a safe choice."

"Oh, yeah. That's perfect," You approached the highchair, using your fingers to swipe some of her bed head hair to the side. "Looks like the strawberries were a hit." You laughed, noting the stains of red on her pink pajama shirt.

"Yes...sorry about that, my love." He blushed.

"I needed to do laundry today anyways," You smiled, not irritated in the slightest. "She'll be grown out of it soon."

A slight pang in Severus' chest made him go quiet for a moment. She was growing so fast that he couldn't even believe it. In four short months, she was going to be a year old. To think that it had been almost a year since she was born completely blew his mind. Next thing he knew, she would be starting her first day at Hogwarts and getting sorted into her House.

For now, he was enjoying her infant stage of life. Just as he had cherished the newborn phase, and how he would the toddler stage and beyond.

"I say it's time for a bath." You lifted her from her highchair, laughing again at how sticky she was.

"I can handle it," Severus said, turning the sink faucet off. "Might as well finish her morning routine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling a bit guilty that he was taking on your usual morning duties.

"Absolutely," He grinned, taking her from you and turning his attention to her. "Mum will read you your bedtime story and put you to bed tonight. Does that work?"

She only hummed, clearly content with the arrangement they had going on today.

"Thank you, Sev." You said, thanking him for being so attentive and letting you sleep in for a bit.

"Oh, darling, it was nothing," He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't you have breakfast and coffee while I get her ready for the day?"

Sure enough, Severus had a plate and a cup of coffee ready to go for you, a charm casted to keep the coffee hot and the food warm.

"The day where we have nothing planned?" You grinned, and Severus chuckled.

"Exactly."

And to Severus, a Saturday with nothing to do was perfect. In a lot of ways, nothing was everything when you and the baby were around.

His family (albeit small) was everything he ever needed.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x fem! reader #severus snape x female reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #dad severus snape #Dad! Severus #Mom! Reader #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #severus snape imagine #severus snape fluff #seriouslysnape

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jackdraw-spwrite · 5 months ago

Text

Star Nursery

Words: 4660 Characters: Clockwork, Danny Warnings: None Also on AO3

Sometimes, the timeline needs a little nudge to get things going in the right direction. And sometimes, it needs more than one. At least, that's why Clockwork tells himself he's showing Daniel the stars.

---

The room was dark when Clockwork appeared. Around him, dark shapes were distinguishable only by a night light, by Clockwork's own glow, and by the window, blinds open to a snowy December night. Lit by the neon sign out front, the flakes drifted down outside like falling stars.

The soft silence of the snowstorm would have swaddled the room, if not for the muted rises and falls of voices one floor below. Though the sound was dampened, the cadence was that of an argument. Occasionally, snatches of it survived the smearing effect of the walls. A careful listener could probably discern the topic.

Clockwork didn't care.

He focused instead on the bundle in the crib. Daniel was tiny, his hair fluffy on his head. One hand was curled into a fist, impossibly small.

He was sleeping soundly.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

There was a thump loud enough to rattle the walls. The argument fell silent.

Daniel had been sleeping soundly, at least. He shifted, grimaced, and prepared to scream at the interruption to his nap.

Before he could, Clockwork picked him up.

"Hello, Daniel," he murmured. He pulled Daniel to his chest, rocking him gently to soothe him.

After a moment, he added, "Daniel, I have something to show you."

Mistily, the baby’s eyes opened, focusing on Clockwork. Too young to know fear at a stranger's face, he reached clumsily for his hair.

Clockwork gave him his index finger instead. Daniel wrapped both his tiny hands around it. Eyes wide, he studied it a moment and then pulled it towards his mouth.

"Yes, I am fascinating, I know,” said Clockwork, as Daniel gnawed on his glove. “But you'll like this much better."

He held out a hand and a circle of blue swirled to life at his fingertips. He carried Daniel through the portal, and–

—

"Look," said Clockwork, and directed the child's vision.

Daniel's eyes grew wide, and he reached out a hand as if to grab at what he saw.

Above, below, and everywhere around them was the inky void of space studded with countless stars. In an immense cascade of light, a great strip of them split the sky in two.

Each and every star seemed to hold hints of a different color, a sincillating rainbow of red to blue. They varied in brightness and as the moments passed they seemed almost to dance among themselves.

No, they were dancing. In a slow waltz, the brightest points of light sped past the dimmer, stars exchanging places with one another in a dizzying spectacle: a mobile to put all others to shame.

Daniel stared, transfixed, and did not look away until sleep weighed his eyes closed.

—

"Daniel, I have a present for you," murmured Clockwork, nudging the two-year-old awake.

Blearily, he squinted at Clockwork. His serious expression lent him a gravity that was entirely undone by his chubby cheeks and the incredible cowlick rising from the back of his head.

Clockwork didn't let his amusement show, instead letting Daniel wake at his own pace. He'd been showing up long enough and often enough that Daniel would recognize him.

After a moment, he was rewarded by Daniel widening his eyes and twisting to get a good look at their surroundings.

Already wide, his eyes grew even wider.

Beneath them, the rings of Saturn stretched like an immense road. The stars were cradling the pair of them, solid and steady.

And beside them loomed the immense bulk of Saturn itself, banded and pale and breathtaking, crowned by a circlet of glowing blue.

Danny squealed in delight, wiggling to be set down. Instead, Clockwork let go--

—

--and Danny giggled, hair floating free in a halo that glowed in the light of the binary suns behind him and for a moment, it was as though he had his own corona.

At Clockwork's back was a tiny, frigid planet coated in a filigree of white.

He smiled and reached out to catch Danny's hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Danny nodded.

—

Clockwork had shown Daniel many, many planets by now. The one below them was dark and small, but growing. Every few moments, impacts spiderwebbed out into tiny red lines that faded just as quickly.

The planet's star hung to the side, close enough that it resembled a coin instead of a point of light.

"Daniel, do you know which planet this is?"

He shook his head. His hair twisted gently in the low gravity, like seagrass.

Clockwork smiled and said, "Watch."

At just the right moment, he pulled their progress through time from blistering speed to something far closer to real time and pointedly looked at a particular point in the stars around them.

Daniel followed suit.

It started as a pinprick of light just barely brighter than the backdrop. And in slow motion, the shadow of an asteroid grew from it. It grew from a pinprick to a coin, and grew again until it loomed enormous before them, and before the infant planet. So close, it was easy to see that it was rounded by the strength of its own gravity; a planetary mass in its own right.

And then it struck.

Even so early in the existence of this solar system, the gas surrounding the planet wasn't thick enough to carry sound. But the impact before them kindled to a blaze so bright it had a roar of its own.

Time for them may have been allowed, but it was still significantly faster than real time, so in the hours that followed, the cataclysm unfolded before them like a dancer’s skirts.

The planet deformed terribly, countless flakes of it crumbling away or rippling outwards, away from the impact site. Yet more were flung outwards in a cloud of cosmic debris. And then, finally, the paired masses began to pull apart again, taffy-like.

Slowly, the masses separated. The furiously flowing bridge between them cooled and broke apart, pieces beginning a slow fall back to the planet where they splashed back into the gaping wound of the impact. The planet’s new moon lingered nearby, just as disfigured. The glow from its scar was bright enough to wash away the stark shadows of space on its dark side, and the molten rock shimmered like an angry burn.

Slowly, they dimmed. First to orange, then red, then just a hint of it brushing the edge of the visible spectrum like a slumbering giant just out of sight.

Shadows returned.

By the time Danny's eyes grew heavy with sleep again, the smaller of the two objects was round and gray in the light of the star.

He'd rested his head against Clockwork's shoulder as he watched, and now Clockwork bent his head to ask him, "Do you know now?"

Danny shook his head, looking up with sleepy eyes.

"It's Earth. Your home."

—

"This is what a nebula looks like from the inside."

Around them, the stars seemed almost to trail veils. Or, to decorate them like gems.

"They're also known as star nurseries."

"Star Nusr'y"

"That's right, Daniel," Clockwork said. He combed a hand through Daniel’s hair. "Isn't it pretty?"

One finger in his mouth, Daniel nodded fervently.

—

The moment they appeared through the portal, Clockwork spread an ectoplasmic construct beneath them before letting Daniel down.

He swirled his cloak from his shoulders and spread it out before settling atop it in a coil. He patted the spot beside him and Daniel turned from where he was peering at the ground and half-floated, half-stumbled over.

The gravity where they were was odd, partway between Earth's surface gravity and the absence of it. In it, Daniel was adorably clumsy.

Clockwork hid his amusement in his smile. Daniel was three – "And a haff," he'd insist, stubby fingers held up to emphasize the point – and very serious. He wouldn't take it well if he thought Clockwork was laughing at him.

Clockwork offered his arm as an anchor as Daniel settled beside him, and pulled him close once he was seated. Daniel's little hand grabbed hold of Clockwork's tunic, and Clockwork felt a surge of fondness. He'd watched it grow from a hand that could barely grasp his finger, and yet like the rest of him it was still so very small.

He spent a space of breaths savoring the contact.

"Well Daniel,” he said at last, “do you know where we are?"

From the shelter of Clockwork's arm, Daniel looked up and shook his head.

"Do you want a hint?" offered Clockwork.

A nod.

Daniel wasn't in a particularly talkative mood yet. Clockwork had woken him only minutes before; he was still fuzzy from sleep.

And in other ways. His hair wasn't quite so unruly here as it was in zero gravity, but it still stuck up at odd angles. In places, it puffed out like the down of a baby bird.

"You should be able to recognize where we are," said Clockwork. "Not here specifically, but the colors and landscape should remind you of somewhere you've seen before."

"'peficaly," muttered Daniel, and scrunched his face into a grave frown.

Clockwork filed the sight away, then did the same with the heartache. He still had a little time.

Daniel had decided he wanted another, more careful look at the landscape beneath them. He was smushing his face into the platform in his focus, and muttered softly to himself as he puzzled out where they were.

Clockwork felt a smile wrinkle the corners of his eyes and kept quiet. The landscape beneath them was distant, he thought, but recog nizable. With only the dark of space to compare it with, the land was pale. It was craggy, too, and dotted with countless craters.

He wanted this night to be memorable for Daniel for more reasons than the conversation they would have, and Daniel had longed for this sight for as long as he'd been able to form sentences.

He would piece together the clues.

Had pieced them together. He scrambled onto all fours and whipped his head to look at Clockwork. His eyes were huge and shining.

"The Moon?!"

After a teasing moment to let Daniel’s anticipation build, Clockwork nodded.

Impossibly, Daniel’s eyes grew even larger. The emotion radiating off him built like a volcano until Clockwork could imagine it humming under his skin.

The squeal of excitement that erupted would have been deafening if Clockwork hadn't anticipated it. Still, he was glad the volume cut significantly as Daniel slammed himself back down onto their platform and continued to yell his delight directly into it. Or tried to, at least. With the reduced gravity what he managed was more of a float.

Clockwork chuckled and settled in to watch his little boy try to expel more excitement than he could physically contain. It would be a while before the excitement died down, and Clockwork intended to savor every moment.

Clockwork stroked one hand through Daniel's fluff. With his other, he pointed to features on the moon's surface. They were overlooking the far side of the moon, and though Daniel had spent much time looking at maps of both sides, the low angle was contorting even landmarks from satellite images into something more earthly.

With each feature explained in terms he could understand, Daniel made appreciative little oohs and ahs. Even at three (and a half) his attention for all things space outstripped all other topics. Clockwork was grateful for it: each crater, peak, and exposed basalt plain meant another scrap of time like this.

…

He was putting off the conversation they needed to have.

He knew that.

It didn't make it easier to stop.

Clockwork had the power to slow time, and to stop it. If anyone could, Clockwork was the ghost who could hold onto a moment forever. A ghost did not gain power like that without wanting it, without needing it as a human needed air.

Clockwork held a reputation as cool and reserved. As almost uncaring in his distance. As impersonal as a mountain river, and just as cold.

Clockwork was reserved. Clockwork was distant. He had to be, because he was also deeply, terribly, cruelly sentimental. He loved as a river ran: swiftly, deeply, ceaselessly.

He loved Daniel.

He knew that soon they would part, and so soon was not happening.

Outside their little bubble, the world was frozen.

But while Clockwork had gained his powers over time from sentimentality, he'd mastered them with discipline. He steeled his resolve.

"Daniel," he began, "there is something I should tell you."

Not want. He did not want this. Nor must. He could avoid this conversation. But for Daniel…

For Daniel's sake, he would have it.

Daniel looked up, floppy contentment draining from his limbs.

"Cl’work?" he said, slurring the first half like he hadn't done since he’d mastered Clockwork’s name. His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled himself to his knees.

Clockwork had planned this conversation. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd charted it, tracking the best paths through a multitude of futures. His sight had shown him how Daniel might or might not react with every spoken turn.

What it had not shown him was the grief like lead in his chest.

He took one of Daniel's hands in his. It was so small.

And yet.

It felt like there was something stuck in his gears. But his ticking was regular. His pendulum’s sway was familiar. He was functioning.

And yet.

Had he been human, Clockwork would have wet his lips. He was tempted to do so anyway. Just a fraction more time…

He was deviating from his script.

“You’ve grown in these past few years,” he started. Saying so felt comical, with Daniel’s hand still so tiny in his own.

“I already knew that,” said Daniel, wrinkling his nose.

“Of course you did,” said Clockwork. “You’ve been there for all of it.” Was his voice thick? Could Daniel tell?

Footing lost, he opened his mouth to continue.

I’m leaving was too heavy to leave his lips. As was, We will have to say goodbye soon.

I love you felt feather-light on his tongue. He stayed it for other reasons. To say such to Daniel shortly before vanishing–he was cruel. He liked to pretend he was not that cruel.

“You’re growing up,” Clockwork said. It was not in the script.

“Oh,” said Daniel. His voice was small.

Even with such a small deviation, the timelines were starting to shift and sprout new branches. It caught Clockwork off guard. He found himself surrounded by a sensation of space, vast like their surroundings.

Adrift.

The possibilities here…

No. He needed to stay focused.

“‘r you gonna say,” Daniel’s tone shifted to mimicry, “A Fenton isn’t scareded of anything and. ‘m too smart not to start early or the other kids wouldn’t havva chance an’. It’s only acoupla hours anyway?”

The sentence had been too long for Daniel to manage at once, full of awkward pauses and trailing sounds as he lost his breath and found his words. But the point of it was clear, regardless.

“Your parents told you that,” Clockwork said. It wasn’t a question, but it would let Daniel follow the conversation.

Daniel nodded, looking down so his hair fell over his eyes.

Clockwork hummed. Daniel was three, nearing four. It would be some time into the school year before he turned four, so registering him for preschool was unusual. A more common choice at his age would be daycare, but with his parents’ rock-solid belief in Daniel’s intelligence…

Daniel was looking up through his hair at Clockwork.

His core ached.

The parenting books had said that children of preschool age would feel afraid of starting preschool for a number of reasons. They did not say what children of Daniel’s age would be afraid of, starting preschool.

“And you would like me to say something as well?”

A nod.

He pulled Daniel into a gentle hug, and ran a hand through Daniel’s hair. It was the same motion he’d long used as Daniel fell asleep watching the stars around them. It should be soothing.

Softly, he asked, “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Daniel ducked his head and muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Jazzy’s got friends.”

This was not all Daniel would say. Clockwork waited.

Daniel had grabbed hold of Clockwork’s cloak. Now he twisted it in his hands. Contemplative. Fretful.

“What if,” he said. “What if.”

Clockwork tugged their hug a little bit tighter. “I see.”

And Daniel relaxed, head falling against the pane in Clockwork’s chest. He could feel it, warm and solid, hair feathering against the glass. It tickled, a bit.

“You’re worried you won’t make friends?”

Daniel nodded.

In the timelines he’d so meticulously navigated before bringing him here, Daniel had made them. Though the timelines were spiraling and blending around them now, Clockwork had little doubt that was still the case. For all his youth compared to his classmates, Daniel was a bright and friendly child.

For a moment, Clockwork considered telling Daniel that his fears were groundless. But. For all that this was an unexpected conversation, it was not an unforeseen one. Clockwork had expected to steer around it with Daniel none the worse for its lack. But he’d done his research. The paths through this conversation had been sparse at first: Clockwork could only consider paths one of the participants might take, and he hadn’t known to consider some options put forward in the parenting books.

He was the ghost of time, not parenting.

Do not minimize, the books had said. Do not dismiss. Acknowledge the fear. Saying that there is nothing to fear, that they will succeed may not alleviate their fear, only pile fear of disappointing you atop their fear of rejection.

They’d gone on to list other fears a child could have, starting preschool.

Separation anxiety…

Clockwork tugged his thoughts from the path with a twinge of guilt. Neither he nor Daniel’s parents gave enough attention to him for that. Regardless, the shape of his reassurance was clear enough.

He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze and selected a response. “Ah. A whole new group of children your age, and you don't know how well you'll get along with them.”

Daniel said nothing to that. Instead, he kept his head leaning against Clockwork’s chest, soft breaths misting the glass.

“Maybe it won't be all new faces. Have you seen children your age at the park?” He had, Clockwork knew.

Daniel nodded again.

“Did they play with you?”

Another nod.

Not every child had. Some had parents who were leery of the elder Fentons. But others encouraged their children to play with Jasmine and Daniel. Clockwork could not say the reason–he could not read minds, after all. But he could guess they were the same.

“If they go to the same park and are only a little older,” said Clockwork, “they may be in your class. So maybe it won’t be only new children. Does that sound a little less scary?”

Still quiet, Daniel nodded.

In all, about five of Daniel’s classmates would be children he’d played with before. Not that he should tell Daniel that precise figure. This was enough. Any human could have guessed what he’d said aloud.

Clockwork should pull the conversation to what he needed to say. To what needed to be said.

But if Daniel was content to rest his head against Clockwork’s chest awhile, then perhaps it could wait.

Just a little longer…

But all things must come to an end.

Clockwork shifted, and pulled his hand from where he’d been using it to cradle Daniel's head against his chest.

Sleepily, Daniel murmured in confusion before bringing one fist up to rub at his eye.

“Cl’wrk?”

It was time. The anticipatory grief in his chest found an echo outside the bubble. Slowly, in shudders, time was beginning to move on.

“Daniel, I brought you here because I have something to tell you.”

Daniel peered at him, suddenly tentative.

The rest of this conversation would be so very difficult.

“Daniel,” Clockwork began. Haltingly.

It would be so very easy to lie.

…

He was looking at Daniel’s hands. He should at least look him in the eye. He dragged his eyes up.

Daniel’s eyes were so very blue.

“I–” love you, he wanted to say. He mustn’t.

He forced himself to say what came next.

“I am not going to be able to visit you much longer.”

And there was the shock Clockwork had so dreaded.

And there were the tears.

Eventually, the tears slowed.

The repeated “no no nos” had too, and Clockwork was left with a wet shirt, a little limpet gripping the fabric of it so tightly his fingers quaked, and a guilt he adamantly ignored.

This was for the best.

He was holding Daniel close, of course. Stroking his back to calm him and humming soothing nothings. It was–It wouldn’t matter if Daniel knew how much Clockwork regretted this. He would forget it anyway. Clockwork could grant himself the indulgence of being kind.

It was nothing to all the other indulgences he’d already taken, with his child. All the other sights. The joy on his face at some new wonder–

Daniel hiccupped.

“We have a month,” offered Clockwork, moving his hand to muss Daniel’s hair. “Two more trips like this.”

“‘ree.”

“Hm?”

“Three,” bargained Daniel. His voice was muffled by Clockwork’s shoulder.

“Two,” said Clockwork, biting back more regret. “One for a bad day, and one for goodbye.”

“Today’s bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daniel tensed in his arms, and Clockwork closed his eyes. Of course he didn’t believe him. Of course he was angry. Why should he be anything else?

Clockwork sighed. “I’ve visited you far too often in the past few years. I want you to know you can handle a few weeks without a visit before we say goodbye.”

At that, Daniel was silent. Clockwork let him be, instead savoring the feel of Daniel’s weight against his chest, even if he was angry. What he would give to have it longer.

But he already had.

Clockwork pinched his eyes shut.

“What if I can’t?" Daniel asked.

“I think you may surprise yourself."

Daniel frowned.

“But if you can’t, you’ll have my help.” He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze. “We can figure it out together.”

In this, Clockwork felt no guilt in the untruth. Daniel would never need his help, so what might happen if he did was immaterial. Irrelevant.

“And besides, you have your parents and sister.”

“Jazzy’s baw, baws.” Danny began, stumbling over the second word before abandoning it entirely. “Jazzy’s mean.”

“But she makes sure you’re safe, doesn’t she?”

“I guess.” and then Daniel clutched harder at Clockwork’s shirt. “But I want you.”

“You have your parents, too.”

“Want you.” Daniel’s voice was higher now, and plaintive. On the verge of tears.

I want you, too.

“I only show you the stars,” said Clockwork. “Your parents do much more than that. Your sister, too. In a few years you won’t even remember me.”

“I will!”

“It will be kinder to forget, little star.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You will.”

Daniel was silent for a time. Then, barely a whisper: “I love you.”

Clockwork’s hug squeezed tighter. Fiercely, briefly. Like if he bundled everything he wanted, everything he felt into the action, then Daniel would understand.

I love you, too.

Clockwork tucked Daniel in.

He adjusted the covers. He wiped the tear-tracks from Daniel’s cheeks. But the frown still marring Daniel’s face could not be fixed so easily.

It could. All he had to do was–

Core twisting cruelly in his chest, Clockwork stroked his hand through Daniel’s fluffy mess of hair before backing away.

Daniel had refused to give up the idea that he would remember Clockwork, doubling down and insisting and insisting until.

It wouldn’t matter.

Clockwork had let him fall asleep in his arms.

It wouldn’t matter.

Daniel would forget him.

With a swirl of blue, Clockwork vanished.

—

Daniel launched himself at Clockwork with a wail. Clockwork closed his arms around him in a hug, letting his child cling to him as he sobbed in great, wracking heaves that should have consumed all the air in his lungs. They did not die down quickly. For long minutes he alternated sobs with shuddering gasps and for longer still he just tucked his head against Clockwork’s shoulder and whimpered.

Clockwork swayed, watching the expanse around them. It was a simple scene, tonight. Nothing new. Just Clockwork, and Daniel, and the familiar stars of the Milky Way from Sol’s neighborhood, only a few years distant.

As simple and humble as a scene like this could be.

Tonight, he wanted Daniel to find comfort in familiarity rather than distraction in the novel.

He was still sniffling.

Clockwork coiled his tail into a lap and set Daniel in it.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked..

—

Clockwork hitched Daniel up on his hip, and pointed. He was leaning his head a little against Daniel’s, letting his cheek rest on Daniel’s crown where his hand was not.

"Do you see over there?"

Danny squinted. "Yeah."

"Just watch that spot."

Clockwork had pointed to a patch in the sea of stars surrounding them which seemed veiled by a shadow. Daniel’s eyes trailed uncertainly over the area, back and forth, back and forth.

Clockwork smiled to himself, savoring the bittersweet loss on his tongue.

Only eleven years. An eyeblink, to Clockwork. Thousands of times that period were unspooling before them every instant as he drew time along for Daniel like film across a movie projector. At his age he'd never have the patience for these wonders otherwise.

But only eleven years without Daniel carried a different weight, didn't it? Lonely, in an empty tower filled only with visions of his child, come home at last. Visions, for all they would feel like memories.

Eleven whole years indeed.

As they waited, the stars behind the veil flickered a little, rippling in brilliance as the clouds of gasses in front of them gathered. As they built on themselves, thicker and thicker. The formation of a protostar was a quiet sort of spectacle, like this. Just the sort to put an exhausted young child to sleep. Just enough to fill his dreams with wonders of a similar kind.

Clockwork hoped.

For all his sight, he wasn't able to see them.

He held Daniel close, and let the hours trail smooth across mental fingertips. Slowly, as Daniel must still have counted it, there came a flickering glow that strengthened into brilliant yellow. Even so, he watched it with the rapt attention which had so captured Clockwork’s mechanical heart.

Eleven years.

Clockwork slowed the play of time. Just a fraction. Just enough for a little more time. But of course, there was one thing he couldn’t control here.

One little boy.

Daniel’s eyelids were drooping, his breaths lengthening. Every few moments he would jerk one awake, or twitch. He was fighting so very fiercely to stay awake. But it was a losing battle.

His head dipped to his chest, once, twice, thrice and didn’t lift back up.

Clockwork looked down at him, a fond smile playing on his lips.

He’d fallen asleep holding Clockwork's hand.

A few stolen moments of indecision later – could he wake Daniel to show him one last sight? Should he? – a portal swirled open before them, and Clockwork left Sol's earliest years with Daniel in his arms.

In his bedroom, stars and space paraphernalia cluttered every surface.

Silently, Clockwork raised the comforter on the bed, slipped Daniel beneath the sheets. When Clockwork wrested his hand from Daniel’s grip and tucked him in, his brows furrowed at the loss.

Clockwork ruffled Daniel's hair for the last time in more than a decade, and leaned down to murmur into his ear.

"Until we meet again, Daniel. Be good."

There was a flash of blue.

And then, the room was dark.

#danny phantom #clockwork dp #danny fenton dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite #dponly

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dee-writes-angst · 1 year ago

Text

DICENTRAS (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), minor injuries, and Eris being angry.

AUTHORS NOTE annnnnd we are back into the swing of things! I would like to thank you all again for your patience these last few weeks, I am so incredibly grateful to all of you. Anyways, enough of the sappy, enjoy getting your hearts ripped out! :) -Dee

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks passed after that fateful kiss, the atmosphere in the forest house transformed entirely. You had moved into Eris's room, and the space quickly became a haven of warmth and love. Each morning, you would wake in his arms, feeling the solid comfort of his embrace, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over the room. The dawn would break with whispered conversations and soft laughter, the sound of your shared happiness filling the air like a sweet melody.

Eris had taken to placing his hand on your growing belly every morning, feeling the baby's movements with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes. The bond between the two of you deepened with each passing day, and the baby seemed to sense the harmony, responding with gentle kicks and rolls whenever Eris was near. The connection between the three of you was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

You found yourself in a nesting frenzy, driven by an instinctive need to prepare for the baby's arrival. Eris's room, once a bachelor’s retreat with minimalistic decor, transformed under your careful touch. You spent hours arranging and rearranging furniture, making space for a crib beside the bed. The room was soon filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and stuffed animals, all ready to welcome the new addition to your family.

Eris supported your efforts wholeheartedly, often surprising you with thoughtful gestures. He would return from his duties with little gifts—a handcrafted mobile, a beautifully woven blanket, a carved wooden toy—each item chosen with care and love. Your evenings were spent together, organizing the baby's things and talking about the future, your shared dreams of the family you were about to become.

Despite the physical challenges of being 38 weeks pregnant, you found joy in the small moments. You would waddle around the room, humming lullabies as you folded and refolded baby clothes, your heart swelling with love every time the baby kicked in response to your voice. Eris would often catch you in these moments, his eyes softening with adoration as he watched you, a smile playing on his lips.

One particularly memorable evening, you decided to decorate the nursery corner you had set up. Eris had brought home a set of delicate, hand-painted stars to hang above the crib, and you both spent hours arranging them just right, laughing and teasing each other as you worked. By the time you finished, the room had a magical feel, the stars twinkling in the soft light, creating a peaceful haven for your baby.

Life was good, better than you had ever imagined it could be. The love between you and Eris grew stronger with each passing day, a bond forged in trust and mutual respect. The baby thrived within you, their movements a constant reminder of the new life you were about to welcome. The forest house, once a place of secrecy and fear, had become a home filled with love and hope.

But even in the midst of this happiness, a shadow lingered, a secret that weighed heavily on your heart.

Each morning began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows of Eris's room, the warmth of his embrace a welcome start to the day. You would rise with the sun, your movements slow and deliberate as you navigated the space, your growing belly a constant reminder of the new life growing within you.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair, spent in the cozy kitchen of the forest house. The cook, a kindly woman with a penchant for indulging your cravings, would greet you with a warm smile as you entered, her apron stained with flour from her morning preparations. You would exchange pleasantries as you made your way to the table, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.

On this particular morning, however, you found yourself with an insatiable craving for something sweet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you made your way to the kitchens, your footsteps light as you tiptoed down the hallways. The cook greeted you with a knowing smile as you entered, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your predictable craving.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing the day's meals. "What can I do for you today?"

You grinned sheepishly, the anticipation of indulging in your favorite treat making your mouth water. "I was hoping you might have some of those honey cakes you made last week," you said, your voice hopeful as you eyed the display of pastries on the counter.

The cook chuckled softly, her laughter like music to your ears. "Ah, I see someone has a sweet tooth this morning," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm afraid we're all out of honey cakes, but I could whip up a batch of cinnamon rolls if you'd like?"

Your face lit up with delight at the suggestion, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. "That sounds perfect, thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude as you watched the cook set to work.

As you waited for your treat to bake, you found yourself lost in thought, the warmth of the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon filling you with a sense of contentment. But just as you were about to indulge in your freshly baked cinnamon roll, a voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a familiar voice from behind you, the sound sending a jolt of panic coursing through your veins. Turning slowly, you came face to face with Lucien, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. Lucien's presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance sending your carefully constructed facade crumbling to the ground. As he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, you felt a surge of fear wash over you, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you under its weight.

Despite the initial shock of seeing Lucien standing before you, you forced a polite smile onto your lips, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. His presence was unexpected, but you knew that you had to maintain your composure, at least until you could find a way to extricate yourself from the situation.

"Lucien," you greeted him, your voice carefully neutral as you returned his friendly smile. "What a surprise to see you here."

He returned your greeting with a warm smile of his own, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Likewise," he said, his tone light and friendly. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack."

You chuckled nervously at his observation, the sound ringing hollow in your ears. "Oh, you know me," you replied, forcing a casual shrug. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and I couldn't resist the temptation of the cook's cinnamon rolls."

Lucien laughed softly at your explanation, the sound sending a pang of guilt through your chest. "I can't say I blame you," he said, his expression fond as he looked around the kitchen. "The cook here is quite talented."

As he chatted amiably with you, you found yourself falling into the easy rhythm of conversation, your nerves gradually easing as you exchanged pleasantries. He asked you about your journey to the Autumn Court, his curiosity genuine as he listened intently to your explanations.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your lies heavy on your conscience as you spun a tale of seeking adventure and new experiences, carefully omitting any mention of the true reason for your presence in the palace. You told him about your desire to explore the world beyond the borders of the Spring Court, your words carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and keep your secret hidden.

Throughout the conversation, Lucien treated you with the easy familiarity of an old friend, his warmth and charm putting you at ease despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. He seemed genuinely interested in your story, his questions probing but never invasive as he sought to understand the woman you had become since leaving the Spring Court.

But as you glanced down at the oversized shirt you had borrowed from Eris, the bulge of your growing belly hidden from view, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at your conscience. You knew that you were lying to Lucien, betraying his trust with every false word that passed your lips. But in that moment, with his friendly smile and easy laughter, it was all too easy to push aside your doubts and bury yourself in the comforting embrace of deception.

"So, what brings you back to the Autumn Court, Lucien? Is everything going well with Elain?"

Lucien's expression faltered slightly at the mention of his mate, his gaze flickering with a hint of sadness before he composed himself with a small sigh. "I wish I could say that things were going smoothly," he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "But truth be told, Elain and I are facing some… challenges."

He went on to explain the difficulties he was encountering in his relationship with Elain, describing her struggles to adjust to life in the Night Court and the walls she had erected to keep him at arm's length. His words were tinged with frustration and sadness, his love for Elain evident in every syllable as he spoke of his desire to break through her defenses and build a life together.

"But it's not just her walls that I'm contending with," he continued, his voice heavy with concern. "There's another complication, another male who has caught her eye." He spoke of the spymaster of the Night Court, a man whose charm and wit had seemingly captivated Elain, drawing her attention away from Lucien and their fledgling relationship.

As he spoke, you could sense the pain and uncertainty that weighed heavily on Lucien's heart, his struggles with Elain's affections a constant source of anguish. Despite his efforts to win her over, it seemed that she was slipping further away with each passing day, her attention diverted by the allure of another man.

You listened sympathetically to his words, your heart aching for the pain he was experiencing. You could see the depth of his love for Elain, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of her, and it struck a chord deep within you. In that moment, you felt a kinship with Lucien, a shared understanding of the complexities of love and the challenges it presented.

"I'm sorry to hear that things are so difficult with Elain," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine concern. "But know that you're not alone, Lucien. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

“I appreciate that,” Lucien smiled warmly, reaching over to steal a cinnamon roll from your plate before steering the conversation toward lighter subjects.

You found yourself drawn into the easy camaraderie between you and Lucien, the warmth of his presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own thoughts.

But just as you began to relax into the conversation, a shadow fell over the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Eris standing there, his expression dark and stormy. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, the tension in the air palpable as he took in the scene before him.

Lucien, ever the picture of charm and grace, greeted his brother with a casual smile, his tone light and teasing as he joked about your supposed dalliance on Calanmai. You felt the color drain from your face at his words, the implication of his jest hanging heavy in the air.

Eris's eyes narrowed at his brother's words, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. He shot you a long, hard look, his gaze piercing through you like a knife, before turning his attention back to Lucien.

"What are you doing here, Lucien?" Eris asked, his voice cold and clipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a steely edge to his tone, a warning that brooked no argument.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at his brother's question, his expression one of mild confusion. "Just catching up with an old friend," he replied casually, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to Eris. "And what about you? What brings you to the kitchens?"

Eris's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Lucien. "I was looking for her," he said curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "We have matters to discuss."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You glanced at Lucien, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes, before rising to follow after Eris, your heart pounding in your chest.

But as you moved to leave, Lucien's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "Is everything alright?"

You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. And it was then, in that moment of quiet vulnerability, that Lucien's eyes fell upon the telltale swell of your belly, hidden beneath Eris's oversized shirt.

His expression softened, a look of dawning realization crossing his features as he took in the sight before him. "You're pregnant," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and joy. "Congratulations."

You opened your mouth to speak, to correct his assumption and reveal the truth of your situation, but the words caught in your throat. In that moment, with the weight of his gaze upon you and the weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders, you found yourself unable to speak. And so, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded, a silent confirmation of the lie that now hung between you.

As Eris stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing angrily down the corridor, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. Ignoring the discomfort of your heavily pregnant form, you hurried after him as quickly as you could, leaving Lucien to his own divices the oversized shirt you wore billowing around you as you waddled awkwardly down the hallway.

"Eris, wait!" you called out, your voice strained with desperation as you struggled to keep pace with him. "Please, let me explain!"

But he didn't slow down, his strides long and purposeful as he continued to march ahead, his shoulders tense with pent-up frustration. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to catch up to him.

"Eris, please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. "You have to listen to me."

He jerked away from your touch, his expression hardened with anger as he rounded on you, his eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "I've heard enough lies for one day."

Tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words, the sting of his rejection piercing through you like a knife. But you refused to give up, refused to let him walk away without hearing the truth.

"I'm not lying to you, Eris," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment, he wavered, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from you once more, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

"I can't do this right now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I need time to think."

But you couldn't let him leave, not like this. "Please, Eris," you implored, your voice breaking with the weight of your desperation. "I'm so sorry for hiding the truth about Lucien from you, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared of what it would mean for us."

His expression twisted with anger and betrayal as he whirled around to face you. "Scared?" he spat, his voice rising with each word. "Scared of what? That I wouldn't accept you? That I wouldn't love you if I knew the truth?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make him understand. "No, it's not that," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to burden you with my past. I didn't want to ruin what we have."

"What we have?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do we have if it's built on lies?"

"Eris, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much, and I never wanted to hurt you."

For a moment, he stood there, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. Then, with a voice trembling with barely contained rage, he asked the question that had haunted him since the day you first met.

"Who is the baby's father?" he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Tell me the truth, now."

You felt the walls closing in around you, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a vice. With a shuddering breath, you finally gave in, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and regret.

"It's Lucien," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you spoke the name. "Lucien is the father."

Eris's face contorted with a mixture of shock and fury, his eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before. "Lucien?" he repeated, his voice trembling with the force of his anger. "You mean to tell me that my brother is the father of your child?"

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your heart breaking as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eris. Please, you have to believe me. I love you, and I need you. We need you."

He shook his head, his face a mask of anguish as he took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from the reality of your words. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be with you, knowing that your child belongs to Lucien."

"No," you pleaded, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I love you, Eris. More than anything in this world."

For a moment, he stood there, torn between the love he felt for you and the betrayal that now threatened to tear you apart. Then, with a voice heavy with resignation, he spoke the words that you had feared most.

"I need time," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I need time to figure out what this means for us."

As Eris walked away, each step echoing like a death knell, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair wash over you. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, the hard stone pressing painfully into your knees. Sobs of agony tore from your throat, each one more heart-wrenching than the last, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor. Your cries were raw, primal, a manifestation of the unbearable pain and heartache consuming you.

"Eris," you choked out between sobs, the name a desperate plea that went unanswered. The world around you blurred as tears streamed down your face, the reality of his departure sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. You felt utterly alone, the emptiness around you a stark contrast to the love and warmth you had shared with him.

Lost in your grief, you didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A warm hand touched your shoulder gently, and you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see Lucien kneeling beside you, his expression one of deep concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Are you hurt?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, replaced by another wave of sobs. Lucien's eyes flickered with understanding and sympathy as he helped you to your feet, his grip strong and reassuring.

"Come on," he said gently, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand. "Let's get you to the medical wing. We need to make sure you and the baby are okay."

You nodded weakly, allowing him to lead you down the corridor. Your mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, each step feeling like an eternity. The journey to the medical wing passed in a blur, the world around you a hazy amalgamation of sounds and shapes.

The healers quickly took you in, their hands skilled and efficient as they checked your knees and examined the baby. Through it all, Lucien stayed by your side, his presence a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. His eyes were filled with concern, his hand never leaving yours as the healers worked.

"She's okay," one of the healers finally said, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Just a bit of bruising on the knees. The baby is perfectly healthy."

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly overshadowed by the gnawing pain in your heart. Lucien helped you back to your feet, his touch gentle as he guided you out of the medical wing.

"Let's get you back to your rooms," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "You need to rest."

You hesitated, the thought of returning to the room you had left weeks ago filling you with dread. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Eris's room. Across from mine."

Lucien nodded, understanding in his eyes as he led you to Eris's chambers. As you approached the door, a sense of foreboding washed over you. With a trembling hand, you pushed the door open, your heart sinking at the sight that greeted you.

The room was empty. Eris's belongings were gone, the space devoid of any trace of him. It was as if he had never been there at all. You felt a fresh wave of despair crash over you, the reality of his departure hitting you like a physical blow.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "He can't be gone."

Lucien's expression turned grim as he looked around the room, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of support. "I'm so, so sorry."

You sank to your knees once more, the weight of your grief too much to bear. Lucien knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart. "You’re not alone. We'll get through this together."

But even as his words offered a small measure of comfort, you couldn't shake the feeling of profound loss. Eris was gone, and the world felt a little colder, a little darker, without him by your side.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006

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mpregstuff · 4 months ago

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https://www.mpregstuff.com/images/expecting-in-style-nursery-dream

In this vibrant space, a pregnant individual and their partner are diving headfirst into the exciting adventure of nursery renovation. Fresh paint and curated new furniture set the stage for their growing family, with a cozy crib and a stylish changing table ready for action. A rocking chair adds the perfect touch for those late-night cuddles. Unique decor, like a cheerful wall decal and a playful mobile of soft toys, reflects their creative flair. With the pregnant belly boldly on display, the couple shares a moment of joy and connection, filled with anticipation for the journey ahead. Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating the warmth of their collaborative effort. This is more than just a room; it’s a canvas of love, laughter, and future memories.

#mpreg #ai mpreg #mpreg belly #pregnant man #male pregnancy #pregnant #mpreg birth #mpregnancy

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bones4thecats · 5 months ago

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Hi, Bones! :3

May I request some fluffy domestic headcanons for Vegeta with a fem!reader and their little family, like how how the Saiyan Prince would be as a stay-at-home dad while his wife works?

If you don’t feel comfortable, no worries and have a lovely day! :)

❥· Sai-Human Royalty, Vegeta × F! S/O

Characters: Vegeta (🌱) A/N: Took me a couple tries to make a good start, but I think I nailed it here! Hope you enjoy this, @a-bookworms-teashop! Have fun reading! ✎ Summary: Cute little headcanons and short ramble about life with Vegeta as a stay-at-home dad and what he does before your son is born!

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🌱 Let me get a couple things straight: Vegeta is a Prince, so he lived a life of luxury (in a Saiyan-way). He didn't have to do a lot of things because of his title, he had servants for certain tasks. And, because of his title, nobody ever stood up to him unless they did hold a position above with a clear advantage.

🌱 So, when you guys met and became a couple, he treated you in a similar way that he treated every earthling: horribly.

🌱 Your relationship was, for a lack of better terms, fucked up at the start. He was a near complete red flag. He was not communicating, disrespectful, not very trusting, slightly controlling, and dismissive of pretty much all feelings.

🌱 But, as time passed, he grew to be better. It was after seeing how Goku and Chi-Chi acted with one another that Vegeta looked back at how you both acted. You were silent, away working a lot, while he was home, not bothering to do anything to help you with your rising stress levels.

🌱 He felt shame unlike any shame he had ever felt before. So, one day, you were called up by Bulma to go to a meeting a few cities over. You did so and just left, not bothering to give Vegeta a kiss goodbye. He wasn't pleased, but he didn't try initiating anything, so who was he to complain?

🌱 When you were far enough away, Vegeta began to work. He has seen you and other people clean, since he was bored enough sometimes to watch some shows on the TV, so he knew what to do.

🌱 Starting with the garbage, he grabbed everything and threw it out. Done. Next was cleaning out the kitchen of every expired product. He needed to use the calendar more than he'd like to admit, but it did help.

🌱 As the time passed and minutes turned into days, it was all done. It took a max of two days. You would be gone for four days. So, on the third day he trained outside with Goku, and on the fourth day, he took advice from Bulma and made a canopy above your bed, wrapped roses with it, lit candles, and turned on your favorite show to calm you down after a long few days of meetings.

🌱 You smiled and hugged him, pulled him into bed, and cuddled into his chest as he watched the show with you. He found it odd... but in a comfortable way.

🌱 The occurrence of him doing this happened more after having children. A few months before Argula (Trunks) was born, he practically made his room in a week. It surprised everyone when it turned out beautiful.

🌱 Argula's crib was against the farthest wall, a window not in sight because of Vegeta saying he didn't want anyone outside to even try viewing his offspring, two separate bookshelves on the walls horizontal of Argula's crib, two plants beside each end of his crib along with a single light on each end, and a dual set of chairs near the top of the crib. But, the best parts of it was his rug and his crib mobile.

🌱 His rug was specially made. Instead of a single color, it was covered in dye with multiple people's hand prints. Ranging from his Uncle Goku and Aunt Chi-Chi to Yamcha and even Piccolo, their prints were everywhere in different colors. You teared up and looked up as he pointed out his crib mobile he also had specially made.

🌱 There were four planets in total there. The smallest being the moon, the second smallest being Namek, all the way on the opposite end, and higher up. Below them all and the lowest, was Planet Vegeta, with a tiny crown on top. You smiled and wiped away a couple tears as you noticed the largest planet. Right next to the moon and slightly below on it's right, was Earth.

🌱 On the top of the Earth model was a tiny Vegeta, you, and a baby Argula. You began to cry as you gripped his skin-tight black shirt. He sighed through his nose and wrapped his arms around your waist. Your pregnant, and very round belly, was lightly pressed against his abs.

🌱 He smirked, pressed his face into your neck. You could feel his breathing against your skin as you calmed down. Vegeta then let one of his hands come down to cup where your son was. He sighed, sounding relaxed, and pulled back so you could look into his eyes.

🌱 "I would do anything for you alone, but for our son and you, I would do beyond anything." He said, smiling as you cupped his cheek and pulled him into a kiss.

🌱 For a man who treated you like garbage at first, Vegeta treated you like his Queen now.

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#Dragon Ball #Dragon Ball Z #Dragon Ball Super #DBZ #DBS #Earth’s Fighters #Saiyans #Dragon Ball x Reader #Dragon Ball Z x Reader #Dragon Ball Super x Reader #DBZ x Reader #DBS x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #Human! Reader #DBZ Vegeta #DBZ Vegeta x Reader

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springsims1 · 6 months ago

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Open Business is my favorite expansion pack in The Sims 2 because you can open a business in your home. Many people don't have The Sims 2, but I wanted to share a house I recently built in my favorite game!

DOWNLOAD THE HOUSE HERE!

If you have The Sims 2 and want to download this house for your own game, you can. I used a few pieces of custom content in this house.

Archways: https://modthesims.info/d/246861/quot-independent-expressions-quot-expansion-set-doors-and-arch.html

Crib Mobile: https://kayleigh-83.tumblr.com/post/688166820874698752/the-recent-wcif-for-the-bunny-mobile-reminded-me

Crib: https://platinumaspiration.tumblr.com/post/763869226056482816/eas-4t2-storybook-nursery-kit-sp55-all-items

Exterior Wallpaper, Windows, and Flower Boxes: https://modthesims.info/d/615151/bespoke-build-set.html

Mailbox and Trashbin Default: https://alienpod.tumblr.com/post/648733944554110976/default-replacement-for-the-residential-mailbox

Kitchen Cabinets: https://kestrelteens.tumblr.com/post/734517740016173056/when-i-saw-that-nonsensical-pixels-converted

Wall Calendar: https://morepopcorn.tumblr.com/post/740679986204262400/calendar-mod-for-the-sims-2

Fiddle Leaf Fig Tree: https://thimblesims.tumblr.com/post/657981573434687488/4t2-cottage-living-conversions-more-basket-of

youtube

#thesims #the sims 2 #sims #sims 2 #springsims #the sims 2 house #sims 2 house #sims 2 houses #ts2 simblr #ts2 #sims 2 simblr #ts2 cc #ts2 house #sims 2 lots #sims 2 gameplay #the sims 2 house build #Youtube

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w3haw3ll · 3 months ago

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Velvet Trigger (Extended Epilogue)- MV1

Domestic romance x Mafia past x Soft angst

3.4K Words (Masterlist)

A follow up on what had happened previously in Max and Y/N's life. Finding new and arguably more difficult challenges.

TW: Weapons and wounds, Kidnapping

The villa was soaked in afternoon light — golden and warm, slanting through the tall windows and pooling across the stone floors like honey. The scent of rosemary wafted in from the garden, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire that burned low despite the spring heat.

Y/N stood in the nursery, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other gently smoothing the edge of a pale green curtain. She was in Max’s oversized shirt again — one of the many he'd lost to her over the years — and her bare feet padded across the floor as she moved slowly and carefully.

The room wasn’t finished.

There were half-assembled pieces of furniture, a rocking chair still missing a screw, a mobile of stars dangling over an empty crib. Books stacked on the windowsill. A plush rabbit missing an ear sat lopsided on the changing table. It was chaos — soft chaos. The kind she’d always dreamed of having.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured to the rabbit, smiling faintly. “You’re not the only one a little unfinished right now.”

From down the hall, she heard footsteps — heavy, deliberate, familiar. She didn’t turn.

Max stepped into the doorway, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, hair messy from his morning run. His eyes were tired but soft, trained on her like she was the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“How long’ve you been in here?” he asked, voice low.

“Twenty minutes,” she said. “Or an hour. I lost track.”

He walked toward her slowly, the way he always did now — like every movement was measured, like touching her too quickly might undo him. He stopped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his forehead to the back of her head.

“I missed you in bed this morning,” he said.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured. “She kept moving.”

He lowered one hand to rest over her belly.

“Still doing flips in there?”

“Not flips. Kicks.” She smiled, leaning into him. “Strong ones.”

Max was quiet. She could feel the way his breathing slowed, his hand pressed a little firmer against her bump.

“You want to feel?” she asked.

“I always want to feel.”

She took his hand and guided it lower, to the place where their daughter liked to make her presence known.

And then—there it was.

A sharp little kick, like a tiny foot saying I’m here.

Max froze.

And then, slowly, he sank to his knees in front of her.

His hand never left her belly. His other one came to rest on her thigh, grounding him. He pressed a kiss just above her navel, then another. And another.

“I still don’t believe this is real,” he said, voice rough.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. “It is.”

“I used to think I wasn’t made for this. That I’d only ever be good at taking things apart — not building something. Not… her.”

“You didn’t build this alone,” she said gently. “And she’s not a weakness, Max. She’s your strength now.”

He looked up at her, eyes shining with something unspeakable.

“She’s you,” he whispered. “She’s both of us. And I swear, Y/N… I’ll protect her. I’ll protect you. Even if the world tries to take it all again.”

Y/N knelt down with him, pulling his face to hers.

“You already do,” she said. “Every day you wake up and stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

They sat like that for a while, tangled on the floor of the nursery, quiet and wrapped in a love forged in fire and softened by time.

Later, she found him in the study with a journal — the one she’d seen him scribbling in lately. He closed it when she entered, but not before she caught a glimpse of the words on the page:

“I don't know how to be a father. But I know how to love. And I think… maybe that’s enough.”

She said nothing. Just kissed his temple and curled up beside him, their hands over the smallest heartbeat between them.

It started with a letter.

There was no return address. No stamp. Just a single name scrawled across the front of the envelope in handwriting that hadn’t haunted Max Verstappen in years.

"Hamilton."

He stared at it on the counter for almost ten minutes before touching it. Like the paper might catch fire if he breathed wrong. Like the ghost of his past might step straight through the front door and ask for a seat at the table.

Y/N came in from the garden, brushing dirt from her hands, cheeks flushed and soft from the sun. “Hey, Max, can you—?”

She stopped.

He still hadn’t moved.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, voice too low.

She crossed the kitchen and reached for the envelope, but he turned his body just slightly — not enough to be aggressive, just enough to block.

That was the first warning sign.

Y/N blinked. “Max.”

He met her eyes. Cold. Guarded. Not cruel — but not soft either.

That was the second.

She stepped back, folding her arms. “Tell me what’s in it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be looking at it like it’s a landmine.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

And then — without opening it — Max walked to the fireplace, struck a match, and dropped the envelope into the flames.

The paper curled and blackened. His name — that name — disappeared in smoke.

He didn’t look away until it was ash.

---

Y/N sat on the edge of their bed, watching him move through the house like a shadow — checking locks, walking the perimeter, muttering something to himself in Dutch.

She waited until he slid under the sheets beside her, still rigid, before she said quietly, “You promised me.”

He didn’t respond.

“You said we’d talk. That we’d never go back to secrets.”

Max exhaled hard through his nose. “It’s handled.”

“No, Max. It’s burned. That’s not the same thing.”

“I’m protecting you,” he said, voice low and sharp.

“I didn’t ask for that kind of protection. I asked for honesty.” She sat up straighter, her hand on her belly. “You don’t get to carry this alone anymore.”

His eyes flicked to her bump — the growing curve of their daughter, kicking against the fabric of her nightgown.

And just like that, something in him softened. Cracked.

“He was one of ours,” he admitted, finally. “An old contact from Marseille. Said he needed to talk — called it a courtesy visit. But you don’t send a letter like that unless it’s a warning.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “You think they’re watching?”

“I know they are.”

Max got up, crossed to the window, and stared into the dark hills. His reflection in the glass was someone else for a moment — not the man who grilled peaches on Sundays and kissed her shoulder when she was half asleep.

But the man who used to make people disappear. The man who wasn’t afraid to burn entire kingdoms to protect what he loved.

“I left that life,” he whispered.

She rose and joined him, resting her head against his shoulder.

“That life didn’t leave you,” she said, repeating what she’d known for years. “But I did.”

Max closed his eyes. His arm slipped around her waist. One hand splayed across her stomach again, always drawn back to the place that reminded him what he was fighting for now.

“I can’t let her be touched by any of it.”

“She won’t be. Not as long as you’re here. Not as long as we’re together.”

He turned to her — and there was something in his eyes, that same fierce promise from the night they left Monaco, buried deep beneath the calm.

“I’ll kill them if I have to.”

She didn’t flinch.

She just nodded, reached up, and kissed him — slow and deliberate.

“I know.”

---

It happened in the softest part of the morning.

The sun hadn’t fully risen, and the sky was still painted in quiet lavender and blush. The birds hadn’t started their songs. Max had gone out early, walking the vineyard rows like he always did when his mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

When he returned, the front door of the villa was open.

The coffee pot still sat half-full. A trail of flour dusted the counter — she’d been making bread. The baby monitor was on the table, a lullaby playing softly in the background.

But Y/N was gone.

And there were no signs of struggle.

Which was worse.

Which meant someone had come quietly. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Max froze.

For the briefest second, his chest locked and his knees almost buckled.

Then he moved.

---

Within minutes, the security feed was up. One of the backup cameras at the far edge of the vineyard had caught a black sedan. No plates. No face. Just one frame of Y/N being guided into the backseat by someone tall, gloved, and calm.

Max’s hands shook as he watched it again. And again.

Then they went still.

His face turned cold. Expressionless.

He hadn’t been that man in years — the one who knew how to break someone piece by piece, who could clear a room without raising his voice.

But today?

He would burn the world to the ground.

---

Max called a number he hadn’t touched in five years. It rang once before the voice answered.

“You said you’d never call again,” the man on the other end said.

“I lied,” Max growled. “They took her.”

There was a pause.

Then: “Where do we meet?”

Within hours, he was in a borrowed car heading toward Marseille. Every mile brought back pieces of who he used to be — the precision, the focus, the ice-cold fury.

He traced the movement of the car from the footage. Dug through old contacts. Paid off the right rats. Threatened the wrong ones.

And finally, someone talked.

“She’s being held in an abandoned chateau. They’re trying to lure you in. Said it was time you remembered who made you.”

Max smiled — and it wasn’t kind.

“They made a monster. But they forgot I never needed a leash.”

---

She was tied to a chair in the center of a dark room. The ropes weren’t tight — they didn’t need to be. They knew she was pregnant. Knew she’d be careful. Knew hurting her would be the quickest way to hurt Max.

Y/N wasn’t afraid for herself.

She was afraid for the baby.

But she was angry, too. Angry that someone thought they could use her like a pawn. Angry that Max would come and do something stupid and beautiful and reckless.

And above all — she was furious because they had underestimated her.

---

Max hit the compound like a storm.

Silent. Focused. Relentless.

Three men taken out before they could raise a gun. Two more left bleeding and begging.

He reached the door of the chamber and didn’t knock. Just kicked it in.

Y/N lifted her head — eyes wide, breath catching — and whispered, “Max.”

And for a moment, he broke.

He dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he cut the ropes, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing her in like she was oxygen and he’d been drowning.

“Are you hurt? The baby? Y/N, talk to me—”

“I’m okay. We’re okay.” Her fingers tangled in his collar, gripping tight. “But if you don’t get me out of here in the next two minutes, I’m going into labor from sheer rage.”

He laughed — hoarse and wild — and swept her into his arms.

Gunfire echoed in the distance. Max didn’t flinch.

“Let them come,” he whispered. “They already lost.”

Back at the villa, Y/N curled up in bed, her cheek against Max’s chest, his arms wound so tightly around her he might never let go again.

He hadn’t spoken since they returned. Not really.

Just kept touching her — brushing her hair back, running his fingers over the swell of her belly, holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish again.

“Max,” she said softly, “we’re safe.”

His jaw clenched. “I should’ve been here.”

“You were here. You never left me. Not really.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then her cheek. Then the spot just below her ear that always made her shiver.

“If they ever try again—”

“They won’t,” she said, voice steel. “Because next time, I’ll shoot first.”

His breath caught — half in fear, half in awe.

And then he kissed her — slow and fierce — like she was his anchor and his salvation and his reason for breathing.

Because she was.

---

The contractions began in the dead of night.

Y/N tried to stay quiet at first, not wanting to wake Max. But the pain came sharp and fast, wrapping around her spine like barbed wire, and the low cry that left her lips cracked through the silence.

Max was out of bed instantly.

“Y/N?” His voice was thick with sleep, but panic bled through the edges.

She gripped the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched.

“Hospital. Now,” she hissed.

Max’s heart thudded so loud in his ears he could barely think. He moved like a machine—bags, keys, phone. He half-carried her to the car, hands shaking every time she groaned in pain.

And underneath all of it, something cold coiled in his chest.

This was it.

This was the moment he couldn’t control, couldn’t fight his way through. This was the one thing in his life that terrified him more than anything else.

Because this was love in its most fragile form.

---

Y/N had never seen Max like this — not in the years they'd lived quietly, not even in the days of blood and fire.

He hovered like a ghost, refusing to sit, pacing the corners of the room like a trapped animal. His fingers trembled every time he touched her, and his jaw was so tight she thought it might break.

But when she cried out — he was there.

Holding her hand. Whispering her name. Pressing his forehead to hers and muttering,

“You’ve got this, schatje. Just breathe. Just one more time. I’m right here.”

She cursed. She pushed. She screamed.

And then, with the first light of dawn bleeding through the window — a sound shattered the tension.

A newborn’s cry.

Raw. Pure. Alive.

Y/N sobbed, collapsing back into the pillows.

But Max?

Max stood frozen.

Staring at the tiny, pink, screaming miracle that the nurse gently placed in his arms.

He didn’t breathe. He didn’t speak.

Just looked down at his daughter like the world had narrowed to this single, impossible moment.

“She’s… real,” he whispered, voice broken with awe.

Y/N watched him. Tears streaming down her face.

“Of course she is, Max.”

He sank into the chair beside her, still clutching the baby to his chest like she might dissolve if he blinked.

And then the tears came.

Not loud. Not ugly.

Just quiet, unstoppable tremors of emotion he had no words for. He kissed his daughter’s forehead. Kissed Y/N’s hand. And for the first time in a long, long time…

Max Verstappen broke in the best way possible.

---

1 Week later.

They named her Elena.

Tiny. Fierce. Already with Y/N’s eyes and Max’s temper, if the wailing fits were anything to go by.

Max didn’t leave her side. Not once.

He installed new security systems. Rebuilt the gate. Rerouted the alarm lines and placed two men on rotation to patrol the perimeter.

“You’re overdoing it,” Y/N said one night, curled on the sofa, Elena asleep in her arms.

Max sat still reviewing footage on his tablet.

“We’re home now. She’s safe.” Y/N continued.

Max looked up at her. His eyes weren’t cold. They were scared.

“What if I can’t keep her safe? What if someone still out there wants to hurt us? I can’t — I can’t let anything touch her. Or you.”

Y/N shifted, gently laying Elena in the bassinet. Then she crossed the room and cupped Max’s face in her hands.

“You’ve already saved us,” she whispered. “Not by building walls. Not by hiding. But by being here. Present. Real. Loving her.”

Max leaned into her touch.

“I don’t know how to be a father.”

“You didn’t know how to love, either,” she said. “And look where we are.”

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her against him, forehead resting against hers.

“You are everything,” he murmured. “You, and her. I’d burn the world for you both.”

“You already did,” she whispered back, brushing her lips over his. “Now you just have to live for us.”

---

Later that night, with Elena asleep and the world finally quiet, Max lay in bed beside Y/N. His hand rested protectively over her hip, their fingers entwined.

“Promise me something,” he said into the dark.

“Anything.”

“If anything ever happens… If you ever feel unsafe — don’t wait for me. Take her and run.”

Y/N rolled over to face him, eyes shining in the dim light.

“I’m not running, Max. Not anymore. You’re the safest place I’ve ever known.”

He kissed her, slow and reverent.

And for the first time in his life, Max Verstappen stopped waiting for the world to take something from him.

He started living like he deserved it.

---

Two years later, the world was quiet in a way Max Verstappen had never known.

The vineyard behind the villa was full and green, sloping in soft waves toward the sea. The cicadas chirped lazily in the late afternoon heat, and a breeze carried the scent of lavender and lemon blossoms through the open windows.

Inside, the house was filled with soft noise — not chaos, but life.

Tiny footsteps padded down the hallway, chasing a wooden car across the tiles. Elena’s giggle rang out like a bell, pure and delighted.

Y/N followed behind her with a basket of folded laundry tucked against her hip, the hem of her dress brushing her ankles, barefoot and golden from the sun.

She paused in the doorway to watch them.

Max was on the floor, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out as he assembled some elaborate racetrack that curved around blocks and stuffed animals and an overturned bowl of snacks.

Elena had his curls, dark and messy, and her mother’s fire. She was fearless — always climbing, always talking, always moving.

“Go, papa, goooo!” she squealed as a tiny red car flew down the ramp.

Max grinned — the kind of smile that used to be rare and hard-won, but now came easily in this soft, second life.

“She’s got your driving style,” he said, looking up at Y/N with mock exasperation. “Zero patience. All throttle.”

Y/N laughed, walking over and dropping a kiss on the top of his head before scooping Elena into her arms.

“Tell your papa that not everything has to be a race,” she whispered to their daughter, who promptly tried to wriggle free and climb back down to finish her imaginary Grand Prix.

Max stood slowly, arms circling Y/N from behind as he rested his chin on her shoulder, gaze fixed on the tiny girl who had become their entire world.

“Did you ever think we’d get this?” he asked, voice low and soft. “Peace?”

Y/N leaned back into him, fingers sliding over the wedding ring on his hand. “We didn’t just get it, Max. We fought for it.”

He kissed her neck, slow and warm. “I’d fight for it a thousand times over.”

---

Later, when the moon was high and Elena was asleep — her tiny frame curled under a blanket decorated with stars and red race cars — Max and Y/N sat on the patio, sharing a bottle of wine.

The candlelight flickered, casting golden shadows across Max’s face.

“Do you ever miss it?” Y/N asked quietly. “That other life?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just ran a thumb over her knuckles.

“I miss the clarity,” he said at last. “When things were simple. Win or lose. Kill or be killed.”

He looked at her.

“But then I see her. And you. And I think… this is the clearest thing I’ve ever known.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered, and she reached up to cup his face. “You’re not the man you were, Max.”

He turned his lips into her palm. “No. I’m the man you made me.”

And then he pulled her close — kissed her like he still couldn’t believe she was real — and the two of them disappeared into the night, tangled in sheets and soft sighs and the slow rhythm of a love that had survived fire, blood, and war.

In a sleepy villa on the edge of Monaco, the ghosts were finally quiet.

And Max Verstappen, once a man forged in shadows, had found something far more dangerous than power.

He had found peace.

And he would protect it with everything he had.

#max verstappen fanfic #f1 fanfic #red bull f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #red bull formula one #red bull team #red bull racing #x reader #angst with a happy ending #dark romance #light angst #dark romantasy #suggestive #angst #masterlist #mafia #mafia romance

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shiorihyugawrites · 11 days ago

Text

Owned - Eren x Reader Modern AU

You were hired to sing at the most exclusive lounge in Paradis City—classy, high-end, and quietly owned by none other than the infamous Eren Jaeger. The moment he sees you on stage, he’s hooked.

You try to resist. He’s your boss. He’s dangerous. He’s taken.

But Eren doesn’t take no for an answer.

He showers you in gifts, whispers promises against your skin, and drags you into a world of dark secrets and criminal power. Even as guilt and jealousy twist inside you, the heat between you burns out of control.

He has a girlfriend. He doesn’t care.

And when he finally claims you? He makes sure you know one thing—you belong to him.

Part Seven | A Sweet Melody

The skyline glittered beyond your apartment windows, a constellation of city lights against the deepening dusk, their glow softened by the gauzy curtains you’d hung to make the space feel like a sanctuary.

At 39 weeks pregnant, your body was a vessel of anticipation and nerves, your rounded belly a proud emblem of the daughter you’d soon meet. The enchanted forest nursery next door was ready, its walls adorned with whimsical murals of trees and woodland creatures, fairy lights casting a magical glow over the crib, changing table, and rocking chair.

Eren had added his own touches—a hand-carved wooden mobile with stars and moons, a soft green blanket embroidered with “Baby Jaeger” in delicate script, a framed photo of you singing on stage at Jaeger’s Lounge, a reminder of where your story began. Each addition was a quiet vow, a testament to his excitement and fear of fatherhood, his determination to be the dad his daughter deserved.

You sat on the plush, gray couch, your swollen feet propped on a cushion, wearing a loose white t-shirt and soft sweatpants, the fabric stretching over your bump. The air carried the scent of rosemary and lemon from the roasted chicken Eren had cooked for dinner, now cooling on plates balanced on the coffee table, alongside a bowl of roasted vegetables and a glass of sparkling water. Your hospital bag sat by the door, a practical black duffel stuffed with essentials—nursing bras, baby onesies, toiletries—and a few “just in case” items Eren had insisted on: a portable phone charger, a plush stuffed fox for the baby, a bag of your favorite sour candies. “Hospitals can be boring,” he’d said with a grin

You were so excited, your heart swelling at the thought of holding your daughter, seeing her tiny face, hearing her first cry. But fear gnawed at you, a shadow cast by the countless childbirth videos you’d watched—women grimacing through contractions, the raw intensity of labor, the overwhelming pain. Nothing could truly prepare you, and the unknown loomed like a storm cloud, thrilling and terrifying. Still, you knew it would be worth it, the pain a fleeting price for the love waiting in your arms.

Eren sat beside you, his sweatpants low on his hips, his dark hair tied back in a messy bun, a few strands framing his face. He’d been a constant presence, his redemption a daily labor of love—cooking your meals, massaging your feet, holding you from behind to lift your belly, easing the pressure that had become a constant ache.

You’d caught him late one night, sprawled on the couch, his phone glowing with a TikTok tutorial on swaddling a baby, his brow furrowed in concentration as he mimicked the folds with a throw blanket. “Gotta get this right,” he’d muttered, oblivious to your presence, and you’d stifled a laugh, your heart melting at his earnestness. He was nervous, his excitement tempered by the weight of fatherhood, but his effort was undeniable.

Forgiveness had transformed you, softening the edges of your pain, rebuilding the trust Eren had shattered. You wanted him here, not just for your daughter, but for you—his presence electric, his laughter a spark that made your apartment feel like home. Every touch, every smile, every quiet moment was a reminder of the love you’d fought for, the love you were reclaiming, one careful step at a time.

Tonight, as you ate dinner on the couch, the TV playing a low hum of a cooking show neither of you was watching, you felt a surge of courage, a desire to mark this moment, to solidify the bridge you were building. You reached for a small, velvet-lined box on the side table, your fingers brushing the soft fabric, your heart racing. Eren was mid-bite, his fork spearing a piece of chicken, when you slid the box toward him, a smile tugging at your lips.

He froze, his fork hovering, his eyes flicking to the box, then to you, his brows lifting in surprise. “What’s this?” he asked, his voice curious, a hint of playfulness masking his nerves.

You grinned, leaning back, your hand resting on your bump. “Open it,” you said, your voice light, teasing, but your heart pounded, the gesture heavy with meaning.

Eren set his fork down, wiping his hands on a napkin, his eyes never leaving yours as he picked up the box. He shook it gently, the faint rattle inside making his brows furrow, his lips twitching. “Feels small,” he said, his voice cautious, his fingers tracing the box’s edges. “You didn’t get me a new watch, did you?”

You laughed, shaking your head, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Just open it,” you said, your voice soft, your smile warm but nervous. “No watches.”

He popped the lid, his eyes widening as he peered inside, his breath catching. Nestled in the velvet was a single silver key, its surface catching the light, glinting like a promise. He looked up, his expression a mix of shock and hope, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is this…?”

You nodded, your throat tight, your smile trembling. “It’s a key to the apartment,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your chest. “You’ve been here every day, Eren, showing up for me, for her. You’re gonna be a dad soon, and you’ll need to be here more, for late-night feedings, diaper changes, all of it. I trust you enough to have this. I want you to have it.”

His eyes glistened, his jaw tightening, the weight of your words sinking in. He pulled the key out, holding it like it was fragile, precious, his fingers trembling slightly. “Baby,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes searching yours, raw with emotion. “You… you trust me with this? After everything?”

You nodded, your hand reaching for his, your fingers lacing together, warm and grounding. “I do,” you said, your voice firm, your heart open. “You’ve been working so hard, Eren. I see it—every meal, every foot massage, every time you sneak in baby stuff like I won’t notice you bought half the store.” You laughed, a soft, warm sound, your eyes shining. “You’re proving yourself, every day. And it’s not just for her. I want you here, for me, too. You make this place feel like home.”

He exhaled, a shaky sound, his thumb brushing over the key, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice breaking, a smile tugging at his lips. “I thought… I thought I’d never get your trust back. Not after what I did. This… this means everything.” He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm, his hand squeezing yours. “I’m not taking this for granted, I swear. I’m here, for you, for our girl, for as long as you’ll have me.”

You smiled, your heart swelling, a tear slipping down your cheek as you cupped his face, his stubble rough under your palm. “I know,” you whispered, your voice thick. “Just… keep being you, Eren. The real you. No more secrets, no more lies.”

He nodded, his eyes burning with conviction, his hand sliding to your belly, his smile widening. “No more secrets,” he said, his voice a vow, his lips brushing your forehead. “You’ve got me. All of me.”

The moment hung between you, heavy with promise, the key a small but monumental step toward the future. You leaned into him, your head on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great dad,” you said, your voice soft, your hand resting on his. “I caught you watching those swaddling videos, you know.”

He laughed, a low, warm sound, his cheeks flushing slightly, his arm tightening around you. “Gotta be prepared, baby. Our girl’s not gonna be wrapped like a burrito on my watch. I’m aiming for pro-level swaddling,” he said, his voice playful, his eyes sparkling.

You giggled. “Pro-level, huh?” you teased, nudging his side. “You’re already ‘baby daddy of the year’, according to Morgan. Don’t get too cocky.”

He grinned, his hand rubbing slow circles on your belly, his lips brushing your temple. “Morgan’s got good taste,” he said, his voice warm. “But I’m not here for the title. I’m here for you, for her. You both are my world.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a blanket. “You’re mine, too,” you said, your voice soft, your eyes meeting his, a silent promise passing between you. “Now, finish your food before it gets cold.”

He laughed, picking up his plate, his eyes never leaving you, the key now tucked into his pocket, a weight he carried with pride. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice playful, but his gaze was tender, filled with a love that felt electric, alive, making every moment in your apartment crackle with possibility.

…

The days blurred into a haze of anticipation, your due date looming like a beacon, your body a mix of excitement and dread. You spent hours in the nursery, folding tiny onesies, arranging diapers, checking the hospital bag for the tenth time. Eren was a constant presence, his devotion unwavering—bringing you breakfast in bed (pancakes with extra syrup, because he knew your cravings), massaging your swollen feet until you moaned in relief, reading baby books aloud in his deep, soothing voice, his hand on your belly as he spoke to your daughter. “Hey, princess,” he’d murmur, his lips brushing your skin, “can’t wait to meet you. Be nice to your mama, okay?” The kicks that followed felt like her agreement, and you’d laugh, your heart swelling.

One afternoon, you sat in the rocking chair, your hands on your bump, watching Eren try to mount a baby monitor, his brow furrowed as he muttered at the instructions. “This thing’s got more parts than a spaceship,” he grumbled, his fingers fumbling with a tiny screw.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, your voice teasing, your eyes soft. “If you can handle a swaddle, you can handle a monitor. Don’t quit on me now, Jaeger.”

He grinned, looking up, his eyes sparkling. “Never quitting on you,” he said, his voice warm. “Or you, princess. Daddy’s got this.”

Your heart melted, his excitement infectious, his nervousness endearing. “You’re gonna be so good at this,” you said, your voice soft, your hand carding through his hair. “She’s lucky to have you.”

He looked up, his eyes glistening, his hand covering yours. “I’m the lucky one,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re giving me a family. I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna spend every day making sure I do.”

You nodded, your throat tight, the beauty of his redemption a light in your heart. “You’re getting there,” you said, your voice soft, your smile trembling. “One day at a time.”

…

A few nights later…

You lay in bed nestled against Eren, his arm draped around your waist, his hand resting protectively on your bump, his warmth a steady anchor in the stillness. His soft breaths, rhythmic and deep, mingled with the faint hum of the city, his dark hair loose, spilling over the pillow.

Sleep had come easily, the exhaustion of late pregnancy pulling you under, but at 3:17 a.m., a sharp cramping sensation ripped through your abdomen, a jolt that snapped you awake, your eyes wide in the darkness. You froze, your hand instinctively flying to your belly, your breath catching as you registered the pain—sharp, deep, like period cramps but heavier, more insistent. Was this it? Were you in labor? Your heart raced, your mind scrambling through the childbirth videos you’d watched on TikTok, the stories of contractions and water breaking, the pain you’d tried to prepare for but could never truly grasp. You shifted, sitting up slightly, the movement stirring Eren, his arm tightening around you, his voice groggy but alert.

“Baby?” he mumbled, his eyes blinking open, his hand rubbing your belly, sensing your tension. “You okay?”

But before you could answer, a warm, sudden gush flooded between your legs, soaking your nightshirt, the sheets, and Eren’s pajama pants, a undeniable sign that sent your heart into overdrive. “Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your hands shaking as you touched the wet sheets. “Eren, my water just broke.”

His eyes snapped wide, his body springing upright, the grogginess gone in an instant. “Holy shit,” he said, his voice a mix of panic and excitement, his hands hovering over you, unsure where to start. He scrambled around to your side of the bed, kneeling in front of you, his pants soaked but his focus entirely on you, his eyes wide with urgency. “You okay? You in pain? How bad is it?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as another contraction gripped you, the pain sharper now, radiating from your lower back to your abdomen, lasting about a minute before easing. “I’m… I’m okay for now,” you said, your voice shaky but steady, your hand gripping his. “The pain’s coming in waves, like cramps, but manageable. We need to get to the hospital, Eren.”

He nodded, his jaw tight, his eyes burning with determination. “Alright, let’s do this,” he said, his voice firm, shifting into what you could only describe as full-on daddy mode. He helped you stand, his hands gentle but strong, guiding you to the bathroom. “Let’s get you changed. You’re not going to the hospital like this.”

You leaned against the sink, another contraction hitting, this one lasting two minutes, the pain sharper, making you wince. You breathed through it, just as Dr. Lin had taught you, timing it on your phone—five minutes apart, consistent, a sign labor was progressing. Eren grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a simple black maternity dress from your closet, kneeling to help you slip out of the soaked nightshirt, his hands careful, his eyes soft with concern. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, sliding the dress over your head, his fingers brushing your skin, grounding you. “Just keep breathing, okay? I got you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling at his care, your fear tempered by his presence. He wrapped your jacket around your shoulders, the fabric warm, comforting, and turned to change himself, yanking off his wet pajama pants and pulling on fresh black sweatpants and a hoodie, his movements quick. He laced up his sneakers, tied his hair into a messy bun, and grabbed the hospital bag from by the door, slinging it over his shoulder. “Ready?” he asked, his voice steady, his hand reaching for yours.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling, another contraction hitting as you gripped his hand, breathing through it, the pain sharper now, a reminder of what was coming. “Let’s go.”

He led you out of the apartment, his arm around your waist, his steps careful but urgent, locking the door behind you with the key you’d given him days ago—a symbol of trust now put to the test.

The parking lot was dark, the G-Wagon’s sleek black frame glinting under a streetlamp. Eren ran ahead, unlocking the car and pulling it closer to the entrance, the engine purring as he jumped out to help you. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft, opening the passenger door, his hands guiding you into the seat, careful of your belly. He tossed the hospital bag in the back, buckling you in before rounding to the driver’s side, his movements swift, focused.

As he pulled onto the road, another contraction hit, sharper, lasting two minutes, your breath hitching as you timed it, your phone’s screen glowing in the dark. “They’re getting closer,” you said, your voice strained, gripping the armrest. “”

Eren nodded, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking to you, then the road. “You’re doing amazing,” he said, his voice calm but urgent, pulling out his phone to call Dr. Lin, switching to speaker as he drove. The call connected, Dr. Lin’s voice calm, professional, a beacon in the chaos.

“Mr. Jaeger, what’s happening?” she asked, her tone steady, clinical.

“Her water broke,” Eren said, his voice firm, his hand gripping the wheel. “Contractions are five minutes apart, lasting about two minutes. We’re on our way to the hospital now.”

“Good,” Dr. Lin said, her voice reassuring. “You’re doing exactly what you need to. (Y/N), keep breathing through the contractions, slow and deep. Eren, drive safely, but get there as soon as you can. I’ll meet you at the hospital. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Eren said, hanging up, his eyes flicking to you, his hand reaching for yours. “You hear that, baby? We got this. Just keep breathing with me, okay? In, out.”

You nodded, mimicking his breaths, the rhythm grounding you as another contraction hit, the pain sharper, making you wince. Eren breathed with you, his voice low, soothing, his hand squeezing yours. “In, out,” he murmured, his eyes darting between you and the road, the city streets quiet in the early morning, the sky a deep indigo.

But the calm was shattered by a slow-moving sedan ahead, its taillights glowing red, crawling at a snail’s pace in the single-lane road. Eren’s grip tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching, his road rage bubbling up as an 18-wheeler rumbled in the next lane, boxing you in. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, his voice low, his patience fraying. He honked, a sharp, aggressive blast, leaning out the window. “Move your ass, man! My girl’s in labor! Get the fuck out of the way!”

You glanced at him, a laugh bubbling up despite the pain, his intensity both absurd and endearing. “Eren,” you said, your voice strained, another contraction hitting, “calm down. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he growled, honking again, the sedan unmoved, its driver oblivious. At a red light, Eren’s frustration boiled over, and he swerved onto the sidewalk, the G-Wagon’s tires crunching gravel, illegally overtaking the sedan. You glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of an elderly man hunched over the wheel, his face lit by the dashboard, and felt a pang of sympathy.

“Eren, it’s an old man,” you said, your voice soft, a contraction cutting you off, making you wince, your hand gripping the armrest.

“I don’t care,” Eren snapped, his voice sharp, speeding past the sedan, leaning out the window again. “Get off the road, grandpa!” He peeled off, the G-Wagon roaring, your laughter turning into a gasp as another contraction hit, sharper, longer, the pain stealing your breath.

Eren glanced at you, his eyes softening, his road rage fading as he saw you wince. “Shit, sorry, baby,” he said, his voice low, breathing with you again. “In, out. You’re doing so good. We’re almost there.”

Fifteen minutes later, the hospital loomed ahead, its glass facade glowing under floodlights, a beacon of safety. Eren pulled up to the emergency entrance, tires screeching, and jumped out, leaving the engine running as he ran to your side, opening the door. “Hold on,” he said, his voice urgent, helping you out, your legs shaky, another contraction hitting as you gripped his arm, breathing through it. “I’m gonna park, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, your breath labored, as a nurse appeared with a wheelchair, her scrubs a crisp blue, her expression tired, her tone clipped. “Name and reason for visit?” she asked, barely looking at you, her fingers tapping impatiently on a clipboard.

You gave her your first and last name, wincing as you eased into the wheelchair, another contraction hitting, your hands gripping the armrests. “My water broke. I’m in labor.”

The nurse sighed, scribbling on her clipboard, her attitude grating, her eyes flicking to her watch. “Alright, we’ll get you checked in,” she said, her voice flat, pushing the wheelchair toward the entrance with a half-hearted effort.

Eren sprinted back, the hospital bag slung over his shoulder, his hoodie slightly askew, his eyes blazing as he saw the nurse’s demeanor. He dropped the bag, stepping in front of her, his frame towering, his voice low but sharp. “Hey, my girl’s in labor, and Dr. Lin’s waiting for us,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to get her to maternity now. I’m not in the mood for bullshit—this is the most important moment of our lives.”

The nurse blinked, her attitude shifting, her eyes widening at Eren’s intensity. “Right, uh, maternity’s this way,” she said, her voice softer, pushing the wheelchair with more urgency, guiding you through the sliding doors.

You glanced at Eren, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain, his protectiveness a warmth in your chest. “You’re intense today,” you murmured, your voice strained, another contraction hitting, your breath hitching.

He grinned, his hand squeezing yours, walking beside the wheelchair, his eyes soft but fierce. “Gotta be,” he said, his voice low. “No one’s slowing us down today. Our girl is about to come into the world, and I’m not letting anything mess this up.”

The hospital corridors were a blur of fluorescent lights and antiseptic smells, the nurse pushing you toward the maternity ward, Eren’s strides long and purposeful, his hand never leaving yours. The contractions were closer now, four minutes apart, the pain sharper, radiating through your back, your abdomen, your entire being. You breathed through them, Eren’s voice a steady guide, his “in, out” a mantra that kept you grounded.

Dr. Lin was waiting, her dark hair pulled back, her scrubs crisp, her smile calm and reassuring. “You made it,” she said, her voice warm, kneeling to meet your eyes. “How’re we doing, (Y/N)? Contractions?”

“Four minutes apart,” you said, wincing as another hit, your hand gripping Eren’s, your breath labored. “Lasting about two minutes. It’s… intense.”

She nodded, her hand on your shoulder, her presence a balm. “You’re doing great,” she said, glancing at Eren, her smile widening. “And you, Dad, you’re doing great, too. Let’s get her to a room, check her progress. You’re almost there.”

Eren’s eyes glistened, his jaw tight, his hand squeezing yours as the nurse wheeled you to a private room, the space bright and sterile, a bed with monitors waiting. He set the hospital bag down, his movements quick but careful, pulling out the stuffed fox and placing it on the bedside table, a small touch of home. “For our girl,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes meeting yours, a mix of excitement and fear.

You nodded, your heart swelling, the pain of a contraction cutting through, making you grip the bedrails, breathing hard. Eren was at your side, his hand on your back, rubbing slow circles, his voice low, soothing. “You got this,” he said, his eyes burning with love. “You’re so fucking strong. I’m right here.”

As Dr. Lin checked your dilation, her hands gentle, her voice calm, you felt the weight of the moment—the fear, the excitement, the love. Your daughter was coming, and you and Eren couldn’t wait to meet her.

…

Six hours later…

The hospital room was a sterile cocoon, its fluorescent lights softened by the warm glow of a small lamp on the bedside table, the stuffed fox Eren had placed there a quiet sentinel watching over you. The maternity ward’s hum—beeping monitors, muffled voices, the occasional cry of a newborn—filtered through the closed door, a reminder of the life about to enter yours.

At 5 cm dilated, you were only halfway to pushing, and the thought of enduring this for hours more was a weight crushing your spirit. Your body writhed on the hospital bed, the thin gown clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, your hands gripping the bedrails as another contraction seized you, a vice squeezing your abdomen, radiating pain through your back, your hips, your core.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your voice raw, your face contorted, nausea rising like a storm, threatening to spill over. You wanted a natural birth, had clung to the idea through every prenatal class, every TikTok video, every conversation with Dr. Lin, but this pain was a beast, shredding your resolve. You felt like you were splitting apart, each contraction a wave crashing against a crumbling shore, and the idea of enduring it without relief was unbearable.

Eren knelt beside the bed, his body hunched. His eyes were wide with worry, his jaw tight, your hand gripping his so tightly you swore you felt his bones creak under your grasp. He hated seeing you like this—writhing, suffering, your moans cutting through him like a knife. He was helpless, his heart pounding, his stress a palpable weight, but he fought to stay calm, to be your anchor. “You’re so strong, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, his thumb brushing your knuckles, even as your grip threatened to crush his hand. “I’m right here, okay? Just breathe with me.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, your breath ragged as another contraction hit, your body curling inward. “I can’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, your hand squeezing his so hard he winced, though he didn’t pull away. “Eren, it’s too much. I can’t do this for hours. I thought I could, but… fuck, I need the epidural. I can’t take this shit anymore.”

He nodded, his eyes softening, his hand cupping your face, wiping a tear with his thumb. “Okay,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, standing to press the call button. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever you need, we’ll get it. You’re calling the shots.”

Dr. Lin appeared minutes later, her expression calm but empathetic as she checked the monitor tracking your contractions. “You’re at 5 cm,” she said, her voice steady, her hands gentle as she adjusted your gown. “The contractions are strong, and you’ve got a ways to go. An epidural’s a good option if the pain’s too much. It’ll help you rest, save your energy for pushing. You sure?”

You nodded, your breath hitching, another contraction stealing your words, your hands gripping the bedrails, your moan raw and desperate. “Yes,” you gasped, your eyes pleading. “Please, I need it now.”

Dr. Lin smiled, her hand on your shoulder, her presence a lifeline. “Alright, I’ll call the anesthesiologist,” she said, stepping out to make the arrangements, her voice a soothing promise.

Eren sat back down, his hand reclaiming yours, his eyes searching your face, his worry etched in every line. “You’re so brave,” he said, his voice thick, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hate seeing you like this, baby. I’d take the pain for you if I could.”

You managed a weak smile, your breath labored, your hand squeezing his. “You’re here,” you said, your voice soft, trembling. “That’s enough.”

The anesthesiologist arrived, a kind-faced older man with graying hair and a gentle demeanor, his scrubs a faded green, his badge reading “Dr. Patel.” He carried a tray of equipment, his movements practiced, calm. “Hello, (Y/N), Eren,” he said, his voice warm, setting the tray on a side table. “I’m Dr. Patel, and I’ll be administering your epidural. I’ve done this many times, so you’re in good hands. Let me walk you through it.”

He explained the procedure—how you’d sit up, how he’d numb your back, insert the catheter, and deliver the medication to dull the pain. He listed the risks: a drop in blood pressure, a rare chance of headache or nerve issues, the need to stay still during insertion. Eren’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening, his hand squeezing yours as he processed the risks, his protectiveness flaring. “That sounds… intense,” he said, his voice low, his eyes flicking to you. “You sure about this?”

“I don’t care,” you said, your voice firm, cutting through another contraction, your body trembling. “I need this, Eren. The pain’s too much. I trust Dr. Patel. Let’s do it.”

Dr. Patel nodded, his smile reassuring, handing you a consent form. “Standard procedure,” he said, his voice calm. “Sign here, and we’ll get started.”

You scribbled your signature, your hand shaky, another contraction hitting, your breath hitching as you handed it back. Eren helped you sit up, your legs dangling over the bed’s edge, your gown adjusted to expose your lower back. He knelt in front of you, his hands rubbing your knees, his lips kissing your hand, his eyes locked on yours, a steady anchor. “You got this,” he murmured, his voice soft, his thumbs brushing your skin. “I’m right here.”

Dr. Patel prepped the equipment, the clink of metal and rustle of sterile packaging a quiet backdrop. You felt a cold swab on your back, the numbing agent stinging slightly, and then Dr. Patel’s voice, calm and steady. “Alright, stay still. You’ll feel a pinch, then pressure. Don’t move, and don’t look back.”

Eren’s eyes flicked to the needle—a long, gleaming thing that made his face pale, his voice a shocked whisper. “Holy shit,” he muttered, his eyes widening, his grip on your hands tightening. “That’s a fucking sword.”

“Eren!” you snapped, your voice sharp, a mix of pain and alarm, trying to turn, but he and Dr. Patel spoke in unison.

“Don’t look, baby,” Eren said, his voice firm, his hands cupping your face, keeping your eyes on him. “Focus on me. You’re doing great.”

“No looking back,” Dr. Patel added, his tone gentle but authoritative, his hands steady as he worked. “Just breathe, nice and slow.”

You nodded, your breath shaky, your hands gripping Eren’s, your eyes locked on his. The needle stung, a sharp bite followed by pressure, your body tensing, but Eren’s voice kept you grounded. “Almost done, baby. You’re killing it.” he murmured, his lips brushing your knuckles, his thumbs rubbing your hands.

The procedure took ten minutes, each second an eternity, the pressure in your back intense but bearable compared to the contractions. Dr. Patel’s voice was a steady guide, his hands precise. “All done,” he said finally, taping the catheter in place, his smile warm. “You’ll start feeling relief in about fifteen minutes. Rest now, and call if you need me.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice weak, your body trembling as Eren helped you lie back, his face flushed, his eyes wide as if he’d been the one injected. He adjusted the pillows, his hands gentle, his touch a comfort as you settled against the bed, the monitor beeping steadily beside you.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice soft, sitting beside you, his hand reclaiming yours. “You’re a badass. That needle was no joke, and you didn’t even flinch.”

You managed a laugh, your breath still shaky, the pain of a contraction dulled but present. “You looked like you were gonna pass out,” you teased, your voice soft, your hand squeezing his. “Big bad Eren, scared of a needle.”

He grinned, his cheeks flushing, his hand brushing your hair back. “Only ‘cause it was going in you,” he said, his voice warm, his eyes soft. “I’d take a hundred needles if it meant you didn’t have to feel this.”

Fifteen minutes later, the epidural kicked in, the pain fading to a dull ache, a miracle that made you sigh, your body relaxing for the first time in hours. You reached for the cup of ice chips on the bedside table, the cool crunch a small comfort, your hunger gnawing but food off-limits until after birth. “Hallelujah,” you murmured, your voice soft, popping an ice chip in your mouth, your eyes closing in relief.

Eren laughed, his hand rubbing your arm, his eyes shining with pride. “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice warm, leaning to kiss your forehead. “Told you you’d get through it.”

The door swung open, and Morgan and Ellie burst in, their arms laden with balloons and a bouquet of pink roses, their faces bright with excitement despite their casual sweats and sneakers. Morgan’s curls bounced as she rushed to your side, her smile wide, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my God, babe!” she said, setting the flowers on the table, leaning to kiss your cheek, her hands gentle on your shoulders. “You’re in labor! Our girl’s coming!”

Ellie followed, her blonde hair in a messy bun, a small digital camera dangling from her wrist, her expression softer than usual, though her eyes flicked to Eren with a hint of wariness. She kissed your other cheek, her hand squeezing yours, her voice warm but cautious. “You look like a warrior,” she said, her smile genuine, adjusting the balloons—pink and gold, with “It’s a Girl!” scrawled across them. “How you holding up?”

“I’m okay now,” you said, your voice soft, crunching another ice chip, the epidural a godsend. “Contractions were hell, but the epidural’s working. Just… waiting now.”

Morgan plopped into a chair, her eyes wide, her hands gesturing animatedly. “Waiting to meet our niece!” she said, her voice bright. “I’m so excited, I could cry. Have you picked a name yet? You know I’m voting for Lola.”

You laughed, your hand on your belly. “We’re still deciding,” you said, glancing at Eren, his smile soft, his hand still in yours. “But Lola’s on the list.”

Ellie snapped a photo, the camera’s flash catching you and Eren, his arm around you, the balloons in the background. “For the scrapbook,” she said, her voice light, though her eyes flicked to Eren again, her cordiality strained. She was still wary of him, her loyalty to you fierce after his betrayal, but she kept the peace, her focus on you, on this moment.

Morgan leaned forward, her eyes on Eren, her tone friendly but probing. “You holding up, Eren?” she asked, her smile teasing. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

Eren chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes tired but bright. “Feels like it,” he said, his voice warm, his gaze flicking to you. “But she’s the one doing the hard work. I’m just trying to keep up.”

Ellie’s lips twitched, her expression softening slightly, though her eyes remained guarded. “You better,” she said, her voice low, her tone a warning.

You squeezed Eren’s hand, your eyes meeting his, a silent reassurance. “He’s been great,” you said, your voice soft, your smile genuine. “He’s here, and that’s what matters.”

Morgan clapped her hands, her excitement infectious, breaking the tension. “Okay, enough of that,” she said, her voice bright. “Let’s talk about how cute this baby’s gonna be. I’m already planning her first outfit—a little pink onesie with a bow.”

You laughed, your friends’ presence a warmth that eased your nerves. “As long as it’s comfy,” you said, your voice soft, your hand on your belly, feeling a gentle kick. “She’s gonna be here soon. I can’t believe it.”

Eren’s hand tightened on yours, his eyes shining, his voice low. “Me neither,” he said, his lips brushing your temple, his arm around you, his presence a steady light. “You’re gonna be the best mom. And I’m gonna be right here, for both of you.”

…

Twelve hours had passed since your water broke, each minute a grueling odyssey of endurance, your body pushed to its limits. At 10 cm dilated, the moment you’d been waiting for—dreading, dreaming of—was here. It was time to push, to bring your daughter into the world, and the weight of that reality settled over you like a tidal wave, thrilling and terrifying.

You lay on the hospital bed exhausted but ready, the epidural dulling the contractions to a heavy pressure, a distant echo of the unbearable pain from hours ago. The room buzzed with quiet urgency—monitors beeping, nurses moving with practiced efficiency, Dr. Lin at the foot of the bed.

Eren stood at your side, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and anxiety, his hand gripping yours. Morgan and Ellie hovered nearby, their faces bright with excitement,

Dr. Lin adjusted her gloves, her voice steady, guiding you through the chaos. “Alright, (Y/N)], you’re fully dilated,” she said, her eyes meeting yours, her smile reassuring. “It’s time to push. It’s going to feel like you’re trying to have a bowel movement, but instead of stool, you’re pushing out your baby. When the next contraction hits, give it everything you’ve got. We’re almost there.”

You nodded, your breath shaky, your hands gripping the bedrails, the pressure in your pelvis intense, a deep, primal urge to push building. “Okay,” you said, your voice trembling, your heart racing. “I can do this.” But doubt lingered, the fear of the unknown, the memory of the pain before the epidural, a shadow in your mind.

Ellie stepped closer, her blonde hair in a messy bun, her digital camera dangling from her wrist. “You’re a badass, babe,” she said, her voice warm, grabbing a damp cloth from the bedside table. “Let me fix you up for those photos. You’re gonna look like a goddess when you meet your girl.” She wiped the sweat from your brow, her touch gentle, brushing your hair back, tucking stray strands behind your ears, her smile a quiet comfort.

“Thanks, El,” you said, your voice soft, a small smile tugging at your lips, her care grounding you, easing the tension. Morgan adjusted the bed, raising it to a sitting position, her curls bouncing, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You got this,” Morgan said, her voice bright, her hands quick and efficient. “Our niece is coming, and she’s gonna be perfect. Just like her mama.”

Eren squeezed your hand, his lips brushing your knuckles, his voice low, steady. “I’m right here. We’re doing this together.” He said, his eyes misty, his jaw tight with emotion.

Dr. Lin glanced at Eren, her smile warm but professional. “Eren, do you want to catch the baby when she comes out? It’s a special moment for dads.”

Eren’s eyes widened, a flicker of longing crossing his face, but he shook his head, his hand tightening on yours. “Nah,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his eyes locked on you. “I wanna be right here, with her. She needs me more than I need that moment. I’m not leaving her side.”

Morgan’s eyes softened, her smile wide, her hand resting on your shoulder. “That’s so sweet, Eren,” she said, her voice genuine, her excitement infectious.

Even Ellie nodded, her expression begrudging but approving, her voice low. “Gotta admit, you’re on your best behavior,” she said, her tone clipped but softer, her loyalty to you unwavering but her respect for Eren growing, a reluctant acknowledgment of his effort.

You felt the pressure build, a contraction rolling through you, the epidural dulling the pain but not the intensity, your body urging you to push. “It’s coming,” you said, your voice strained, your hands gripping Eren’s and the bedrail, your breath hitching.

Dr. Lin nodded, her hands ready, the nurses flanking her, their faces focused. “Alright, when you feel that pressure, push as hard as you can,” she said, her voice calm, authoritative.

The contraction hit, a deep, primal force, and you pushed, straining with every ounce of strength, your body trembling, your face contorted, the sensation exactly as Dr. Lin described—like trying to pass a massive bowel movement, but so much more. You prayed you weren’t pooping on the bed, the thought fleeting but mortifying, your focus consumed by the effort. “Fuck,” you gasped, your voice raw, your body collapsing back as the contraction eased, exhaustion washing over you, your breath ragged.

Eren kissed your forehead, his lips warm, his hand squeezing yours, his voice a lifeline. “You’re doing so good,” he said, his voice thick, his eyes shining. “So fucking strong. Keep going.”

Dr. Lin’s voice cut through, her tone encouraging. “I see the head!” she said, her eyes bright, her hands steady. “Another big push, and we’re halfway there.”

Morgan darted to the foot of the bed, peeking over Dr. Lin’s shoulder, her eyes wide, her voice a squeal. “Oh my God, I see her! She’s got hair! Come on, you’re almost there!”

You nodded, your breath shaky, your body trembling, another contraction building. “Okay,” you said, your voice determined, gripping Eren’s hand, your nails digging into his skin, his wince unnoticed as he focused on you. You pushed again, straining with all your might, your body shaking, your moan raw, the pressure overwhelming, your pelvis feeling like it was splitting apart.

“Halfway out!” Dr. Lin said, her voice steady, her hands guiding the baby. “One more big push. You’re so close.”

The pain crept back, a sharp edge breaking through the epidural, your body screaming, doubt clawing at you. “I don’t know if I can,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, tears streaming down your cheeks, your hand crushing Eren’s.

“You can,” Eren said, his voice fierce, his eyes burning into yours, his hand cupping your face. “You’re the strongest person I know, baby. You’re doing this. One more push, and she’s here. I’m right here with you.”

Ellie leaned closer, her hand on your shoulder, her voice soft but urgent. “Come on, babe,” she said, her eyes glistening. “One more, and you’ll meet your girl.”

You took a deep breath, then another, steeling yourself, the pressure building, your body ready. “Okay,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute, gripping Eren’s hand, your eyes locking on his. You pushed, a scream tearing from your throat, your body straining, every muscle taut, until—relief, a sudden release, the pain easing as something slipped from you, a weight lifted, a melody breaking the silence.

Your baby’s cry filled the room, a piercing, beautiful sound, the sweetest song you’d ever heard, a melody that stopped your heart and restarted it. You panted, your body collapsing back, sweat dripping down your face, your chest heaving, your eyes searching for her.

Dr. Lin and the nurses worked quickly, their hands gentle but efficient, lifting your daughter, her tiny body slick with blood, her umbilical cord still attached, her cries a vibrant declaration of life. “She’s perfect,” Dr. Lin said, her voice warm, her smile wide as she cleaned the baby, wrapping her in a soft pink blanket, her tiny face scrunched, her cries softening.

You looked at Eren, his eyes misty, tears spilling down his cheeks, his jaw trembling as he stared at the bundle in Dr. Lin’s arms. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking, his hand squeezing yours, his emotions raw, overwhelming.

The nurses placed her on your chest, her warmth against your skin, her weight a miracle, 7 pounds 8 ounces of life, healthy and strong. You cradled her, your hands trembling, tears streaming down your face, your heart consumed by a love so fierce, so unconditional, it remade you. She was beautiful—tiny, perfect, her eyes closed, her lips pursed, her dark fuzz of hair a mirror of Eren’s. “Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice thick, your tears falling onto her blanket, your fingers brushing her cheek. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

Eren knelt beside the bed, his face buried in your neck, his sobs shaking his shoulders, his arms wrapping around you, careful of the baby. “Thank you,” he choked, his voice raw, his tears wetting your skin. “Thank you for her. She’s… she’s everything. I love you so much.”

You nodded, your throat tight, your tears unstoppable, your hand cradling his head, your daughter between you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your heart full, the moment a tapestry of pain, love, and redemption.

Morgan grabbed Ellie’s camera, her hands shaky, her eyes glistening as she snapped a photo, capturing the three of you—Eren’s head buried in your neck, your arms around your daughter, the balloons and flowers a soft backdrop. “This is perfect,” she said, her voice thick, wiping her eyes. “She’s perfect.”

Ellie covered her mouth, her tears falling, her voice soft as she stepped closer, gazing at the baby. “She’s so beautiful,” she said, her voice breaking, her hand brushing your shoulder. “What are you gonna name her?”

You looked at Eren, his eyes meeting yours, his tears still falling, his smile trembling. You’d spent weeks debating names—Lola, Ariana, Willow—but none had felt right, not until this moment, her cries a melody that filled your soul. You smiled, your voice soft, certain. “Melody,” you said, your eyes on your daughter, her tiny hand curling around your finger.

Eren’s breath hitched, his eyes shining, his hand brushing Melody’s cheek, his voice a whisper. “Melody,” he repeated, his smile wide, his tears falling. “It’s perfect.”

Morgan clapped her hands, her laughter bright, her eyes wet. “Melody Jaeger!” she said, her voice a squeal. “Oh, I love it! She’s gonna be a little rockstar, just like her mama.”

Ellie nodded, her smile soft. “It suits her,” she said, her voice warm, snapping another photo, the flash catching Melody’s tiny face, your tear-streaked smile, Eren’s misty eyes. “Welcome to the world, Melody.”

Dr. Lin stepped back, her work done, her smile warm as she watched the scene. “Congratulations, (Y/N), Eren,” she said, her voice soft. “She’s healthy, strong, and beautiful. I’ll give you some time.”

The nurses followed, leaving you with Eren, Morgan, and Ellie, the room quiet except for Melody’s soft coos, her cries fading to gentle murmurs. You cradled her, your heart overflowing, the pain of labor a distant memory, replaced by a love so fierce it redefined you. Eren’s arm stayed around you, his hand on Melody’s back, his tears drying but his eyes still glistening, his love for you both a tangible force.

“You did it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple, his voice thick with pride. “You brought her here.”

You laughed, a soft, tired sound, your eyes on Melody, her warmth a miracle against your chest. “We did it,” you said, your voice soft, your hand squeezing his. “She’s ours, Eren. Our Melody.”

He nodded, his smile trembling, his hand brushing her tiny head, his voice a vow. “Ours,” he said, his eyes meeting yours, his love a light in the dim room. “I’m here, for both of you. Always.”

…

An hour had passed since Melody’s first cry filled the room, a melody that had rewritten your world, stitching together the frayed edges of your heart with a love so fierce it felt like a force of nature. You lay in the hospital bed, your body exhausted but buoyant, the epidural’s lingering effects dulling the ache of labor, your hospital gown loose around your shoulders.

Eren sat in a chair beside you, his arms cradling Melody with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Her bright green eyes—his eyes—peering up at him when they’d opened moments ago, a moment that had stolen his breath. Her nose was his, sharp and proud, but her mouth, the delicate curve of her lips, and the soft shape of her face were all you, a perfect blend of your love, your pain, your redemption. Eren’s eyes were misty, his jaw trembling, his voice a low, reverent whisper as he murmured to her, “You’re so perfect, princess. Daddy’s got you.”

You watched them, your heart swelling, tears pricking your eyes, the sight of Eren with Melody a vision you’d dreamed of but never dared hope for after the chaos of his betrayal. He was careful, his hands steady but gentle, his fingers brushing her tiny cheek, his love a tangible force that filled the room.

He’d texted his friends—Armin, Levi, Jean, Connie, and even Floch, who’d forgiven him after their brawl at the club on Floch’s birthday—sharing the news of Melody’s birth. His phone buzzed with congratulations, a bouquet of lilies and daisies arriving from the group, now nestled beside Morgan and Ellie’s roses.

Morgan and Ellie had returned their arms laden with a takeout bag of sushi—your first since pregnancy, a craving you’d mourned for months. Morgan’s curls bounced as she set the bag on the bedside table, her sweats and sneakers a casual contrast to her radiant smile. “Your favourite!” she announced, her voice bright, pulling out containers of California rolls, spicy tuna, and shrimp tempura. “You must be starving, babe. Dig in.”

Ellie grinned as she handed you a pair of chopsticks. “You deserve this,” she said, her voice warm, kissing your cheek. “Giving birth is no joke.”

You laughed, your voice tired but happy, your stomach growling as you opened a container, the sight of the sushi making your mouth water. “You have no idea,” you said, popping a California roll into your mouth, the taste of crab and avocado a burst of heaven after hours of ice chips. “This is better than sex right now.”

Eren chuckled, his eyes flicking to you, his smile soft but teasing, his arms still cradling Melody. “Ouch,” he said, his voice playful, his gaze warm. “You wound me.”

Morgan laughed, plopping into a chair, her eyes on Melody, her voice a squeal. “Look at her, though! She’s worth it. Those green eyes? Total Eren. But that mouth? All you. She’s gonna be a beauty.”

Ellie leaned against the bed, her eyes softening as she watched Eren with Melody, his tenderness undeniable, his love a quiet force. She sighed, her wariness of him lingering but fading in the glow of this moment. She’d held a grudge since his betrayal, but seeing him now—vulnerable, cradling his daughter with a reverence that spoke of change—she felt the ice in her heart thaw. “Gotta admit,” she said, her voice low, her eyes on Eren, “you’re stepping up. She’s lucky to have you like this.”

Eren looked up, his eyes widening, her words a rare olive branch. “Thanks, Ellie,” he said, his voice soft, his smile genuine. “Means a lot, coming from you.”

She nodded, her lips twitching, her hand brushing your arm. “Just don’t fuck it up,” she said, her tone half-teasing, half-warning, her eyes glinting with a promise of her gun if he did.

You laughed, the sound light, easing the tension, your chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Play nice, El,” you said, your voice warm, your eyes meeting hers. “It’s Melody’s day.”

Ellie grinned, her hand squeezing yours, her voice soft. “You’re right,” she said, her eyes on Melody, her expression melting. “Can I hold her? She’s too cute to resist.”

Eren nodded, his movements careful as he stood, cradling Melody’s tiny body, her pink blanket snug around her. “Here,” he said, his voice gentle, passing her to Ellie, his hands steady, ensuring she was secure. “Support her head, like this.”

Ellie took her, her arms gentle, her eyes wide with awe as she cradled Melody, her tiny face scrunched, her green eyes blinking up. “Oh my God,” she cooed, her voice soft, her fingers brushing Melody’s cheek. “You’re so perfect, little one. Aunt Ellie’s gonna spoil you rotten.”

Morgan leaned over, her eyes glistening, her voice a whisper. “My turn,” she said, her hands eager as Ellie passed Melody to her, her curls falling forward as she kissed Melody’s forehead, her smile radiant. “Hey, sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re already so loved.”

Melody let out a soft coo, her tiny mouth moving, a signal she was getting hungry. Morgan’s eyes widened, her smile soft as she handed her back to you. “Think she’s ready for you, mama,” she said, her voice warm, her hand brushing your shoulder.

You nodded, your heart swelling, your body tired but alive with love. The nurse had explained breastfeeding earlier, her instructions clear, and you adjusted your gown, guiding Melody to your chest. She wiggled, her tiny body seeking your nipple, latching on with a gentle suck, her warmth against your skin a miracle, her soft pulls a tender rhythm. “Oh,” you whispered, your voice thick, tears pricking your eyes, the moment beautifully intimate, a bond unlike any other.

Eren watched, his eyes misty, his hand resting on your arm, his voice a low murmur. “Look at her,” he said, his voice breaking, his smile trembling.

Morgan and Ellie exchanged a look, their eyes soft, their presence a warm cocoon. “You need rest” Morgan said, her voice gentle, standing to gather the sushi containers. “We’ll be back later with more food. Maybe some pizza next time?”

You laughed, your voice tired, your hand cradling Melody. “You’re the best,” you said, your eyes meeting hers, then Ellie’s. “Thank you, both of you. For being here.”

Ellie leaned down, kissing your forehead, her voice soft. “Always,” she said, her eyes glistening. “Get some sleep, mama.”

Morgan hugged you gently, her curls brushing your cheek, her voice a whisper. “Love you, babe,” she said, then turned to Eren, pulling him into a gentle hug, her smile warm. “Take care of them, Eren.”

Eren nodded, his eyes grateful, his voice low. “I will,” he said, his hand squeezing hers briefly, his focus returning to you and Melody.

Ellie waved at Eren, her gesture curt but warmer than before. “See you, Jaeger,” she said, her voice neutral, her smile small but genuine.

Eren grinned, his eyes twinkling, knowing it was the most he’d get from her. “Take care, Ellie,” he said, his voice warm, his focus shifting back to you as the door closed behind them.

The room settled into quiet, the hum of the hospital a distant lullaby, Melody’s soft sucking the only sound, her warmth against your chest a grounding force. Eren pulled his chair closer, his eyes on you and Melody, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “This is surreal,” he said, his voice low, his hand brushing your arm.

You nodded, your eyes on Melody, her tiny hand curling around your finger. “I know,” you said, your voice thick, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ve never felt… this. This love. It’s everything.”

Eren leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours, his hand on Melody’s back, his voice a whisper. “You gave me this,” he said, his eyes misty, his voice breaking. “You put up with my bullshit, gave me a second chance, and now… her. I’m so fucking grateful. I’ll never stop proving it.”

You smiled, your heart full, your hand squeezing his, the sushi forgotten, the exhaustion a distant hum. “You’re doing good, Eren,” you said, your voice soft, your eyes meeting his. “Just keep being here. For her, for me.”

He nodded, his tears falling, his lips brushing your forehead, then Melody’s, his love a light in the dim room. “Always,” he said, his voice a vow, his hand steady on yours, the future a melody you were writing together, one perfect, fragile moment at a time.

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