pilim

[pilim]

cw: pregnant reader, fm!reader, anxious Remus, caring Remus, young Remus, fluff.

tw: —

summary: the reader is eight months pregnant and Remus is very worried about them. sometimes even neglecting sleep.

After the news of your pregnancy broke, Remus became more than protective. It was as if a multitude of worms of doubt were swarming under his skin, roughly and greedily eating away at his flesh.

Milk, nappies, cribs, first baby teeth, colic in the stomach, rashes, baby powders... and the possible risk of being infected with lycanthropy. This point unnerved Remus the most and he spent many hours in the library to find out whether this disease can be passed on by inheritance. You had to personally pull your husband out from under the mountains of scrolls so that he could finally straighten his hunched back and eat. Only thanks to your persuasion, a couple of books with several hundred pages each and encouragement from Sirius and James, Remus with difficulty but still managed to put his paranoia on his plan.

Nevertheless, he did not stop treating you as the most gentle creature in the world, especially before the full moon.

The darkness of the bedroom enveloped you like a warm cocoon. You quietly exhaled in your sleep, pulling the blanket tighter over yourself. Because of your rounded belly, sleeping anywhere other than on your back or side was simply impossible. Remus had not closed his eyes that night. He had been lying awake for about two hours. His body ached from fatigue, his leaden head drooped toward the feather pillow. Remus sighed hoarsely, his rough lips tenderly leaving a kiss on the crown of your head, cheek, shoulder. His hands, covered with a bandage, gently stroked your belly. The weight of the child inside you made Remus get goosebumps. The sweetness of anticipation when a small child should finally be born mixed with the fear of responsibility, leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. Remus squinted, burying his face in the neck of his beloved.  She smells of lavender, milk, and something else that Remus can’t quite place. Perhaps this is the specific smell of pregnancy. He ponders, then kisses the soft skin again, pressing it as close as possible, as if she could escape from him. Sleepiness falls on him like a soft lump, but Remus doesn’t allow himself to relax completely. He listens attentively to her every breath, to every contraction of her heart.

Slender fingers gently bury themselves in honey-colored hair. You turn your head towards your husband with difficulty, blinking sleepily. The shaky veil of sleep still fetters your mind, but nevertheless you smile tenderly.

- “Why aren’t you sleeping, Wolfie? Is something wrong?”

Remus shuddered, turning his head towards you. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, gently stroking them.

— “No, no, nothing. Everything is fine, sweetheart. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, slightly raising yourself to be more comfortable.

— "No, you didn't wake me. Everything is fine."

You gently stroke Remus' head, kissing his rough cheek.

— "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Remus sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to yours. He feels a little ashamed of his anxiety, because he should be your support, your confidence. Even though Remus doesn't answer, you understand everything at first glance. Smiling softly, you put your hands on Remus's shoulders.

— "I know, Wolfie. You're worried again, aren't you? Come here."

Remus leans into the touch without thinking, softly moaning. Your hands always instill calm, a sense of security and trust in his heart. He wants to curl up, completely dissolve in her arms filled with warmth.

— "Sorry"

— "Nothing. Sleep, my silly Wolfie. You need strength"

Soft lips touch the place where, according to legend, a person's third eye is hidden. The wind outside the window sings a lullaby as two souls fall asleep.

ps: i don't really like the result, but let's accept it. sorry for any mistakes.

[pilim]

Req post

fandoms:

Guardians of the Galaxy.

Lord of the rings

The Hobbit

Star Wars

Harry Potter

PJO

Harry Potter: The Age of Marauders

hey! i decided to open requests for writing headcanons or drabbles because i don't have a lot of ideas right now.

I can write a headcanon or drabble with your favorite character from the fandoms listed above. In your application you need to indicate:

— fandom

— character's name

— headcanon or drabble

— your special wishes

vola! your request will be ready within a few days.

now, topics i don't write about: NSFW, pdf, pairings (I only write about reader/character)

that's all for now. thanks for reading. i look forward to your inquiries.

ps: it will be awkward if no one sees this post and there are no applications, lol.

[pilim]

breathe deeply, okay?

cw: kid!reader, gn!reader; platonic relationship.

tw: panic attack.

summary: you're having your first panic attack and you're really scared. but Rocket is always there, remember?

Your legs feel like cotton wool, completely unable to hold you in place. You awkwardly stagger, trying to stay afloat, but only hit your head on the cool wall. The blow involuntarily brings tears to your eyes, but you can’t cry. Even scream. You can’t do anything. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, and a hot piece of coal is stuck in your throat.

Your palms begin to grow cold. You swallow with difficulty, slowly sinking to the floor. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you feel how loudly the blood roars in your ears. You close your eyes in a futile attempt to get rid of this state, but it doesn’t help much. You want to cry, but it’s impossible. You cover your mouth with your hand, starting to tremble. Disgusting. Disgusting. What is this?!

The sound of an opening door slips past you unnoticed. You drown, hearing and seeing nothing.

— "Hey, kid, have you seen my..." — the raccoon walked into the room with a brisk step, holding one of the blaster models. His gaze fell on you, ruby eyes narrowed in suspicion. — "Are you okay, kid?"

He kneels in front of you, slowly reaching out his warm hands to brush the hair out of your face. You meet his gaze and realize that he is genuinely concerned.

You try to say something, but only muffled sobs come out of your mouth. Rocket grabs your face, forcing you to straighten your head.

— "Kid, look at me. Don't say anything right now. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. It's okay. I just need you to breathe for me, okay?" — Rocket's voice is quiet and calm. He takes your wrists, taking your first deep breath, hinting for you to repeat after him.

You squeeze the soft paws, trying to follow him. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. And so on, over and over. The cycle spirals, settling softly somewhere on the periphery of consciousness. You involuntarily bow your sweat-soaked head, burying your forehead in Rocket’s shoulder. He squeezes your shoulders.

— “Just breathe. For me. For yourself. Okay?”

ps: just little comfort thing :3 also want to write something about the Lord of the Rings next time.

[pilim]

hey, I'm not sick!

cw: kid!reader, gn!reader; platonic relationship.

summary: you're sick and now it's time for Rocket to take care of you.

— "Open your damn mouth, don't make me use force!" — Rocket barely holds back a growl, trying once again to shove the electronic thermometer under your tongue. You turn away, pitifully pursing your lips. A child is a problem. And a sick child is a double problem.

— "I don't..." — you indignantly try to defend your point of view, but the moment you open your lips, Rocket deftly shoves the thermometer into your mouth. You have no choice. You look at the raccoon, frowning. Rocket grins, slightly twitching his whiskers. It's all obvious to him.

— "Yes, yes, child. And the fact that you sniffle every second does not make you sick at all" — he snorts mockingly, sitting down near your bed. You sneeze, almost dropping the thermometer, silently admitting your defeat. Rocket watches you with scarlet eyes, silently but vigilantly.

Fatigue rolls over you like a sticky lump, your head feels like it's made of lead. You wearily lower your head onto the pillow, closing your eyes. The room plunges into complete silence, as if into a sealed bag. You begin to feel sleepy, but then you are pulled out by the quiet beep of the thermometer. Rocket straightens up, snatching the thermometer from your mouth with his paw. Looking at the display, he winces.

— "As far as I remember, the normal temperature for little people is 36.6°. It's clearly higher here, kid" –Rocket hoarsely remarks, his whiskers moving worriedly. He puts the thermometer aside.

— "Lie still. And don't even try to get up,"– Rocket threatens with a clawed finger before turning around and leaving the room, surprisingly carefully closing the door behind him.

You close your eyes with a groan, wrapping yourself in a blanket. The temperature has deprived you of any desire to protest or run after Rocket, ignoring his orders. Your nose is completely blocked, forcing you to breathe through your mouth. A hoarse cough, causing your chest to hurt a little. Despite the discomfort, you still pass out.

Rocket quietly enters, for the first time without kicking the door down. He carries a plate with sliced apples (Terrov's, mind you), a wet compress and a bottle with some kind of liquid.

— "Hey, kid..." Rocket begins, but immediately cuts off, noticing that you are sleeping. With an almost fatherly sigh, he places the plate on the bedside table. The wet compress moves to your forehead, causing you to grumble in your sleep. Rocket busily adjusts the blanket and steps aside. He climbs into the chair opposite the bed, crossing his paws.

Now his only goal is to keep your sleep.

ps: this is my first time writing something entirely in English, since it is not my native language. Since my English level is far from perfect, I used Google Translate.... I'm sorry if there are any mistakes here. ;(

p.p.s: to be honest, I don't know much about the Marvel universe, so I tried not to mention anything that requires knowledge. Sorry if I made a character non-canonical.