#“Sweet baby Useless Child”

[crumbztoast]

R-R-R-RED SONNN!!!!!! doodlz ,:3

[jumpy-buggy-33]

Uh. So I just binged read “Sweet Baby, Useless Child.”

…..

NGL-

THERE WAS MANY TIMES WHERE I ALMOST CRIED-

ANYWAY GO READ IT ITS AMAZING!! It’s not chapters long but it’s still really good!!

@pittdpeaches IN LOVE WITH YOUR WORK!! I can’t wait to read more of it!!

[luv4freddie]

Fools - T.N

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words

"Y/n!!"

After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.

She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."

You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.

"Sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."

You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.

"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."

Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.

The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.

"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.

"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.

"Can we change subjects, please?"

Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.

"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"

The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.

"I- what! Why would you say- no!"

This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."

You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.

"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."

"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.

You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.

You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.

If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.

You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."

You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.

"No biggie, it's forgiven."

She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.

You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.

Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.

"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.

"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.

"No I meant your staring."

You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."

She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.

Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.

You let out a sigh.

"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."

She grins, "you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.

"Do you have a crush on Draco?"

Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.

"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.

"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."

She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?

The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"

You cursed Pansy for being so observant.

"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.

"Don't lie to me y/n."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."

Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.

"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."

You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.

"Huh?"

"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.

Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.

"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."

You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.

"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.

"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"

You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.

Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.

When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.

The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.

"There's our bella addormentata," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)

"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.

"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.

"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.

"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.

Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.

You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.

"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."

The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.

However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.

"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)

You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"

He grins, "that's part of the fun."

"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."

"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.

"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."

"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."

"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.

"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"

Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.

"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"

He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.

You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"

He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.

"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."

You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.

"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.

You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.

Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.

"Give me your hand."

He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.

"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.

He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.

"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."

He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."

You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.

"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.

Out of nowhere he pulls it away.

"Theo?"

"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."

You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"

He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.

"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"

You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."

Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.

"What- what are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.

"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"

You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.

"I like you, amorina." (Little love)

"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"

He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."

You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.

"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."

You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.

"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."

He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.

He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.

"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."

He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.

"No more crying over me okay?"

You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.

[pseudowho]

"Good girl-- good girl, that's it! Listen to your body."

A bag full of snacks, and books, and massage oils, all woefully surplus to requirements, flung to the side of the room. The dappled reflection of under-lit water on the dark ceiling. A stack of warm towels. A tiny woollen hat. A little trolley of equipment; a calm attendant wearing smiles and blue.

Kento, knelt at the edge of the pool, his shirtsleeves soaked to the shoulder. One thick arm looped around your neck and chest as if he meant to throttle you, when really, he just needed to be held. Or, did you need to be held? The paired clinging comfort to be found in the gloom of fear, was not mutually exclusive, it seemed.

"Amazing work...you're doing so well, sweetheart...just going to listen to the baby's heart..."

Your heart and Kento's pounded in tandem, almost as fast as the little pwssh-pwssh-pwssh-pwssh of your baby's heart, tinny on the Doppler, as the midwife's hand swished through the water. Kento whispered to you, his cheek clasped to your temple, sweatslick hair sticking you together.

"Our baby-- that's our baby-- god I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I wish I could do this for you--"

You gasped, splashing legs clamouring for resistance against the edge of the pool, writhing back against Kento. Kento's face crumpled, his teeth gritting so hard against your agony, they crunched.

You bellowed, another contraction roaring through you like wildfire, and you gripped Kento's arm. Your scream became a roar as you pushed, absurdly, overwhelmingly dragged from your body by a brutal force of nature. You barely heard Kento's hushed rumble, through the haze of blinding pain.

"...can do it, you can do it, you're so strong-- not long now-- nearly here, they're nearly here, our baby--"

You gasped again, seeing stars for a moment, surely being cleaved in half and you panicked, crying out and digging your nails in. Kento didn't care, surely deserving this, certain your nails didn't sting as much as the stretch you felt stung. You babbled at Kento and the midwife, pleading, bargaining.

"I can't do it anymore-- please don't make me, please please--"

"You're doing it, sweetheart. The biggest part of the head is coming with the next push-- with the next one, just listen to me, and breathe. No pushing. Just little breaths."

You looked up at Kento, your eyes feverish with the love that ripped you asunder. Kento nodded, trusting you, trying to hide the fear and miserable male helplessness and uselessness that threatened to fill him with violence, if he did not cling so desperately to being gentle instead.

Kento felt you tense; another pain peaking as you shook your head, sobbing so briefly, only to be replaced by gritted resolution. Kento saw the fire in your eyes as you began to roar, and thought his heart may break with the weight of his adoration.

Kento grasped you close, your fingers plaited together. He whispered to you as you trembled, fighting against nature as your body pushed for you.

"...that's it-- that's it-- just breathe, little breaths, little breaths-- I know it stings, good girl, good girl-- and the head's out!"

Kento's heart stopped, to see the crest of a little head, its soft waves of hair swishing in the birthing pool. Invigorated by thrill, almost weeping with excitement, he whispered to you, heated and trembling.

"--oh god-- right there, they're right there-- nearly got them, we'll know what we've got--"

"Just one more big push, sweetheart-- one big push with the next contraction, and your baby's here--"

Almost ten months of blooming and worry and scans and building and laughing and crying and aching and fearing, all ended in one enormous push, and a whoosh, and a cry...

...and a cry, wet and sweet and crumpled and on your chest, mother and child still bound together by the string of life.

Kento buckled against the side of the pool. Still he held you, looking down at you, looking down at your baby, blue and angry and baleful at having been shoved into the world from their warm dark kingdom.

Arms replaced the womb, and Kento huffed a couple of great sobs to hear you babble love at your scrumply flailing babe.

"--oh my god-- oh you're so beautiful-- oh, mummy loves you-- daddy loves you--"

Daddy. Kento almost buckled again, nuzzling his tears away into your hair, smothering your sweaty cheeks with kisses and relief. His voice was thick with joy, the fever of pain in your eyes replaced with elation, clasping the boon of a champion within your arms.

"Thank you. I can't...I can't thank you-- I-- love you, love you both so much--"

You gazed up at Kento, basking, your eyes glazed. "Kento...Ken...what have we got? Tell me-- tell me what we've got."

Kento sniffled, looking at the midwife as if for permission. She looked on, an enamoured, privileged bystander, and nodded encouragingly to Kento. Kento leaned over you, gently lifting his baby's legs apart, peering under the cord.

He huffed a single wet laugh, and looked at you, honey-brown eyes rimmed red. Kento's voice was gravelly as he stroked your hair back, to your wondrous grin.

"You were right, lover...as always."

[chaedomi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ✦ twtptflob

fem!child!reader x the black agriche; minus fontaine (platonic!yan), violence, death, unhealthy relationships, everyone somehow finding a way to terrorize reader, the agriche family as a whole; flowers come in assorted colors and produce sweet nectar. as a result, flowers attract various kinds of butterflies, even the so-called deadly ones. pt. 2 ꨄ — masterlist

YOUR MOTHER was already a laughing stock and a huge disgrace to The Black Agriche. Due to this, she was confined to her room, away from the disgusted eyes that followed her form with every step she took. Her reputation further decreased when word spread in the household that she gave birth to a baby girl… a sickly one at that. Was she trying to ruin the image The Black Agriche carefully built for years!?

When LANTE found out, he was beyond livid. The disdain he held for your mother was very evident as the slightest hint of her has him in a sour mood and heads rolling. Still, he gave her a chance to redeem herself; birth a worthy child was all he commanded. However, the ending result only proved that she was indeed a useless woman.

Nobody could have stopped him from what he did next, not even the wails and desperate pleas of his other wife that knelt helplessly on the ground. Unleashing his bloodlust, your mother was brutally killed. The only ones spared were his other wife and you, as he deemed it foolish to judge you as a newborn. Perhaps your state was only temporary and as you grew older, you would impress him.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although you weren’t sick, you grew to be a rather fragile individual. The littlest pressure has you crumpling in pain, wheezing breathlessly. A disappointment, really. Nevertheless, he kept giving you another chance to prove yourself. When you fail, he gives another and another, and another, and another-

It was then he realized how lenient he has been with you out of all people. Why he hasn’t diced you into a pile of meat as he claimed each time was beyond him. Every time you made a fault, he found himself scrambling for a reason to excuse your deplorable actions. It was unlikely of him and bothered him to a large extent.

Having enough of the confusing emotions you struck within him, an order was sent out, requesting your presence. Understandably, you were petrified as it was not common for the Head of The Agriche Family to express interest in seeing anyone out of the blue. And with an amused smirk, he watched as you nervously eat the desserts brought by the servants before dismissing you from his private room.

He continued doing this, either inviting you to the room or seeking you outside, the extreme feelings he experienced deepening with every interaction he held with you. Eventually, it escalated to a point where he didn’t want you to leave his side. He soon concluded that he will never understand what aspect of yours drew this uncharacteristic side out of him. And oddly enough… he was at peace with it. Maybe your mother was capable of doing good. Hmm…

Effortlessly, the killer of your mother lifted you from your seat. A touch meant to be comforting caused shockwaves of discomfort and fear to travel up your spine. His expression was unreadable, scrutinizing gaze never leaving your form. Eyes resembling the crimson red of blood, the picture was forever burned into your memory.

“...How strange.”

Unsurprisingly to most, SIERRA was the best friend of your mother. Looking past the horrible rumors that lingered inside the household about your mother, she decided to befriend her. And boy, was she relieved, discovering that your mother was nothing like the rumors had stated, no, your mother was just a sweet, harmless woman. The moments spent were very wholesome and a change of pace from the insanity that lingered in the household.

Though… everything went crashing down when your mother became pregnant with you. Don’t misunderstand Sierra… she was overjoyed over the announcement of you. What frightened her so much was that your mother fell terribly ill and without much reason. When your mother expressed her concerns about your health, Sierra also felt dread, wanting nothing horrible to happen to you. While it’s not related to health, Sierra knew what it’s like to be worried about your child’s well-being; she knew it all too well. Bless her kind-hearted soul, she hoped your mother would never experience the pain she was put through.

But, it appeared as though her prayers and hopes were all for naught as you were born sickly and frail. And aware of the monstrosity that will arise afterward, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Still, her knowledge of this evil pattern will never emotionally nor mentally prepare her for the disastrous event. Oh, she hated how powerless she was. Her screams, wails, and pleas were futile, having to witness the execution of her beloved friend at the hands of her husband. Why must the people she loves suffer so much?

She was left alone in the room, sobbing into her palm. Had it not been for the soft wails of your newborn self, she would have remained there on the ground, allowing the coolness of the tiles to seep onto her skin as she wept to her heart’s content. Frantically leaping to her feet and momentarily pushing her grief aside, she scooped your bundled self in her arms, listening to you calm down as a woeful frown etched itself onto her lips. Blinking away the stray tears in the corner of her eyes, she hugged you closer to her chest, rocking you slowly. She might as well enjoy what was left of her beloved friend.

History surely had its cruel way of repeating itself. As you aged, you developed a lovely personality; innocent and pure, contrasting the sadistic and aggressive personas the rest of your family members owned. Why it destroyed her the way it did was because your traits were on par with her deceased son, Ashil. Just what did she do to relive such a nightmare?

By some miracle, Lante seemed to favor you tremendously. The stress that was lifted from her shoulders was refreshing. …It was especially difficult to ignore how extremely clingy Sierra was toward you. Every hour of the day, every second, Sierra insisted to be by your side, never allowing you a moment of isolation. Even so, her clinginess will never compare to how overprotective she was. God forbid if you got injured in her sight, or somehow managed to sneak away from her watchful eyes for too long. She will fall into hysterics, holding onto the little thread of sanity she possessed as she smothers you with overbearing attention.

You almost screamed in terror at the figure looming above you. Thankfully, your brain reacted quicker as you identified the figure as your stepmother. What mostly unnerved you was not the fact that she most likely might have been watching you sleep, but how… lifeless she looked. You didn’t know she was able to make such a face. Quietly, you called out to her which successfully snapped her out of her trance. Wordlessly, the woman sunk to her knees and wrapped her arms around your small body, stuffing her face in your torso. Regardless of your utter confusion as to why she visited you in the dead of night, you returned the gesture, spurring her to tears. Doesn’t look like she’ll be leaving anytime soon…

“...It could have been you as well…”

When Sierra says she’s going to stay with you, she means that she is staying with you. She does a good job of it as well, much to your dismay. But her whimpers every time you tried to run away always filled you with guilt, grounding you next to her. And thus, due to Sierra’s stubbornness to leave you alone, this is how MARIA met you.

It was a bright and sunny day, the flowers were in season, and birds were chirping merrily… it was the perfect condition to host a tea party! What better way to relax under this glorious weather than to enjoy tea and desserts with her favorite guests? So excitedly, Maria sent invitations.

Sierra was one of the last few to arrive. When Maria went to greet her, what she wasn’t expecting was two instead of one. Honestly speaking… Maria did not care for both you and your mother. Yes, she has heard of the gossip of your mother circulating among the Agriche Wives, and yes, she has heard the talk of your birth. But for someone who has never seen you or your mother before, there was only so much fuel she could add to the fire.

Her eyebrows were raised as Sierra timidly states that she brought someone along. Since Sierra was mostly alone, it was a surprise to her. Though all questions died down in her throat when she caught a glimpse of you.

The umbrella that was tightly grasped in her hand fell to the ground, her jaw slackening as she stared at you with blown eyes. …Was it even possible to be more beautiful than Sierra and her daughter combined!? You were just as pretty as a flower!

Not much explanation was needed, she immediately fell head over heels for you. Forget the fact you came uninvited, come relax and have some tea! Squealing with a skip in her step, she snatched you from Sierra's side, ushering you to a comfortable seat where she and all the ladies present fussed over you. …You left with a stomach bursting from sweets that day…

Unfortunately, gaining Maria's affection means you're subjected to her bizarre actions. If you had Sierra visiting your room in the dead of night, you had Maria visiting your room at the crack of dawn. You've woken up to her beaming face far too many times to count…

Braiding your hair, dressing up, and playing pretend are Maria's favorite activities with you and they always end with her pinching your cheeks and kissing them before she leaves. She really wanted to lock you up for herself, a cute little doll all for her to admire, pamper and cherish.

Maria was very cheerful and a bit eccentric, so you mostly felt at peace in her presence. …But that all changed when you stayed at a party longer than you should have. What you saw was like a wake-up call for you, unless they were Sierra, no matter how sweet they make themselves appear, they were still an Agriche, dehumanized, and evil.

You suddenly felt the dessert you ate creep up your throat as you stared at the servant's corpse... what was left of it, at least. The spoon you used to eat the treat slipped from your fingers, falling onto the table with a loud rattle. Your second stepmother, the murderer, was unbothered by it all, a devilish smile occupying her doll-like features, calming dishing out orders for the servant’s body to be fed to the beastly creatures that resided inside the mansion. At the sight of you, her sadistic smile morphed into one filled with pure adoration. She made her way to you giddily and squeezed you into a hug, uncaring of the evidence of her killing smearing all over your body. Frozen, you just stood there as she lovingly pressed a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"My! Aren't you such a Cutie Pie!"

The first time she saw you, she only gave you a glance… before she almost stumbled over as she did a double take. Once she regained her composure, in quick, long strides, ROXANA closed the distance between you both, firmly placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. You flinched, nearly shooting off the ground. The hallways were pretty much empty, so where the hell did she randomly emerge from?

Her stare intimidated you as her eyes were practically glaring holes into your body. It remained that way for a while, her hand on your shoulder as she stared, you, too scared out of your mind to even breathe properly. Soon, her hard stare turned soft, her reddened lips curling into her iconic smile.

Do you know how long she has waited to see you? The answer, she’s been waiting for years. The Abysmal Flower is a book that was offered to her by a school friend in her previous life… to which she initially detested reading because of the triggering contents the novel entailed… but she got past that. Because of all the dark themes, your character was an abnormality in the novel so to speak, especially when you were a member of The Black Agriche. The Black Agriche was known for its criminal activities… Fraud, Theft, Drugs & Poison, and most importantly murder, taking away lives without batting an eyelid.

You didn't belong with that, choosing peace as a method rather than violence. You were just a poor unfortunate soul inside a den filled with savages. It was a custom tradition in the household to eliminate those who stood outside their reputation as it displayed signs of weakness. But you remained unharmed by their gruesome acts. You see, the book portrayed you as possessing this indescribable charm where people feel more inclined to protect you than to harm you. Clearly, The Black Agriche was under this so-called charm of yours. It also extended to the novel’s heroine, Sylvia, who despite hating The Black Agriche, fell in love with you because of your angelic nature, viewing you as a younger sibling. Sadly, blinded by her rage and sorrow over the news of her brother’s killing, she wiped you out with the rest… falling into deeper despair after realizing she destroyed you as well.

Admittingly, Roxana held a grudge over Sylvia and the authors for that stunt. You were her favorite character by far and had so much potential. So even though the alarms blared loudly as her mind registered that she reincarnated as an Agriche and the trials that come along with the name, she was buzzing from glee now that she had a chance to see you… years after.

But after that ‘incident’ and the daily nuisances, she ought to handle for survival, the thought of you slowly slipped from her mind… until now. While no one will stupidly lay a finger on you inside the household, the same cannot be said for some outside the household. The Black Agriche has made quite the amount of enemies, after all. You being the favored one, including your predicament will make you a big target of these enemies. Thus, Roxana does her best to add extra security to your life.

Whenever she gets the chance, she will constantly check on you. If not, she will simply send one of her butterflies to always be updated about your whereabouts. Don’t you see? Whatever she does, it’s done in your favor… So, please enlighten her as to why you appear to be so antsy around her. She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she? She didn’t know you had a dramatic side… but, oh well, that’s endearing too.

She was nice to you, very very nice. For some reason though, it scared you more than it flattered you. You were unsure of why, but your instincts always screamed at you to avoid the blonde. She hasn’t done anything for you to fear her, only spoiling you with exquisite gifts and jewelry. But after what happened with your second stepmother… you didn’t want to take chances. A gloved thumb distracted you from your thoughts, gently caressing your cheek. Lifting your gaze, you peered into reddened hues, an emotion you were unable to decipher swirling in them. She smiled at you fondly, cooing even. Placing your hands on your lap, you smiled back, ignoring the nauseating churn in your stomach.

“Did I perhaps do something wrong? No? Then you don’t mind staying longer with your Big Sister, right~?”

Roxana’s extreme adoration for you had JEREMY torn between anxiety and anger. It’s already bad enough that he had to share his sister’s attention with the god-forsaken Blue Pedelian but now a whiny baby has come to steal the remainder of his spotlight!? He’s NOT happy. I mean, he was there longer than both you AND him. Though, it seems that his sister favors you more than the horny dog… Not that it makes it any better. It’s still annoying.

Jeremy has mentioned this several times to his sister, mostly about you. It was obvious he was jealous, but his complaints stemmed deeper than jealousy, it was fear that his sister will leave him if she attaches herself to others. Growing up in a loveless household was beyond excruciating and his sister, being the first one to treat him like a human and not a weapon, he continuously yearned for her affection. He didn’t want to return to what it was before, and if denying his sister interactions with others stopped that, he’s all in for it. Reassuring words from his sister, however, washed away the little panic inside him.

Still, it lingered on his mind, you. His sister doesn’t mention anyone just like that; if she does, it certainly isn’t to that extent. She’s always smiling, her eyes glitter in excitement, and she rambles on and on, very unusual for her. At least you make her happy… Nevermind. He’s still bitter about the whole thing.

In time, he finally asks his sister if he can meet the person that caught her eye. It could be anyone, considering the ungodly amount of siblings he had and since she was heading to where you were located, he might as well tag along too. His sister’s hesitation didn’t escape his eye, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Looks like you held more value to her than he first presumed…

After contemplating her answer for a while, she gave in, beckoning him closer with a finger. As they walked together, she told him you were the shy type, and it's highly advised that he doesn't do something to overwhelm you. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not… but he felt as though there was a subtle threat underlying her words… Soon enough, they arrived at your bedroom doors.

What did you look like? What kind of person truly are you? His sister paints you a good light, going so far saying you were an angel descended from the heavens. But what if there was a dark side you skillfully concealed? That you were just another savage under the disguise of an innocent? It’s not like he doubted his sister’s judgment… just simply concerned for her well-being.

Well, he'll be damned. And slightly ashamed too. Look at you… you were so frail… and gentle too. The way you touched Roxana and spoke with her, (god, your VOICE!) was so soft, musical, and pleasing to the ears. He kind of flinched when the conversation held between you and his sister switched to him, his sister gesturing to him with a hand. His heart warmed, seeing how your big-doe eyes looked at him, the beautiful hue of them twinkling with curiosity.

Most recoil from his touch but, you reached out to him, interlacing your tiny fingers with his. He noticed how your hand trembled, looks like Roxana was correct, you were the shy type. Even so, you overcame your anxiety to greet him! Him! The final blow was the sweet giggle that escaped your lips, swinging your hand in his. Forget Angel, you were Heaven Sent.

It was very silly how easily he fell under your control, but can you blame him? When was the last time someone treated him with genuine kindness and affection other than his sister? He visited you a lot after that, to your surprise. You thought it was a one-time thing, but here he is, bringing spoils and stuffed animals every day. At that point, you had to ask for another room to store your gifts from him… Jokes and banter are common between you two, him doing most of the interaction, pinching your cheeks, and tickling your sides. Jeremy… turns out to be more childish than you, who is a child, and that said something. It amazed you when he’s on the verge of falling onto the ground and crying out whenever you declined his time with you.

Then there were instances that he was similar to a cat, cute and loving to the people he cherishes, pissy and hostile to others when they come near his cherished. What you hated about him was his ugly jealousy streak and the damage he brings with it. It can annoying when someone you like doesn’t spend much time with you as you’d like, but was it really worth bashing their head into the floor?

You walked hand-in-hand with your brother who hummed merrily. As for you, you were in a state of shock, silent as your mind tried to process what had happened prior earlier. Why did he… kill the servant? They were being nice to you were they not? It was just a lovely fresh-picked flower they wanted to gift out of the goodness of their heart. To you, you thought it was the prettiest one you’ve ever seen so far, the vibrant color palette reminding you of yourself. Mesmerized you were very close to taking the pretty thing, your chubby hands reaching to clasp at the plant. In the BLINK of an eye, the servant was no longer in their spot, the flower soaking in a puddle of blood on the ground, and your hands outstretched. The liquid was also splattered on your face, little droplets spluttered on your dress. In front of you was your brother, an enraged face overtaking his features. And underneath his boot was… the servant that offered the flower to you. What just happened…? Shrugging off how your irises dilated as he came closer, he knelt to the ground, scooping the flower from its puddle. And with a beaming smile, he patted your head, giving the bloodied flower to you instead.

“They’re out of their fuckin’ minds if they think I’d allow them to taint you.”

After your encounter with Roxana, she basically took over the role of bodyguard away from Sierra. Then you appreciated Sierra more, for mingling in Roxana’s presence had you stiffer than a board. The evening was a stormy one, the raindrops harshly beating against the roof, the low rumbles of thunder, and the faint flashes of lightning. For some odd reason, Roxana wanted to take a walk with you in this weather. You didn’t want to, but one word of hers led to another, and now you’re here. Too bad you were too scared to speak up.

Suddenly, she told you she had to run a small errand. It won’t take long, she insisted, and just like that, you were left “unsupervised” in the middle of the hallway. When you wanted to be left alone, you didn’t mean it like this. The hallways were eerily vacant and your room was nowhere nearby. The setting didn’t ease your growing anxiety; it was straight out of a horror novel where anything was capable of jumping you at any given moment. So… imagine how your soul left your body when you glanced over your shoulder, only to make eye contact with a face.

Gasping loudly, you spun around and stumbled backward, your small hands clutching at your clothes. Hair dark as the night sky, eyes red as blood… How did your father manage to silence his footsteps…? And most importantly, what could he possibly want from you…?  The deep frown he wore is a bad sign… Did you finally manage to push your father over the edge!?

The distant sound of heels hastily clacking against the floor trickled into your ears. Shortly after Roxana came into view, panting heavily as she shot a firey glare at the figure in front of you followed by a trail of threats. How did she have the courage to do that!? Did she not fear your father’s wrath? More so, why was he not responding? And who is this DION!? Too confused to study your fear of your sister when she lifted you into her arms, you wrapped your arms around her neck staring at a smirk creeping on who you assumed to be your father’s face.

The days continued smoothly (as the routine with Lante, Sierra, Maria, Roxana, and Jeremy occurred too often to be considered strange) and you lived your life as best as possible. But that was just the calm before the storm… 

Jumping from your seat, the porcelain cup slipped from your hands, shattering on the ground and spilling the milk. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your skin grew ice cold. Maria, Sierra, and the women present at the tea party also freaked out, the former rushing to both of your sides as they attempted to soothe your panicking self.

But that was a mistake for as soon as Maria touched you, you broke down into a fit of tears. They were confused, you were fine seconds ago! Was it perhaps the milk you drank with your biscuits that caused this!? Well, that certainly wouldn't slip by!

However, was that the answer to your panic? No. Someone was… watching you. It wasn't a normal glance… but rather one that instilled apprehensiveness in the hearts of numerous, and unfortunately, it was geared toward you. Left, right, and back, you frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was the person that had you so distraught. But, you couldn't, which made you cry harder and flail your arms about.

You knew the situation was very bad that the noise caught the attention of Lante, summoning him inside the greenhouse where the tea party was hosted. He was disgruntled, unsure of what to do. He didn't train himself to be a proper parent, so how should he know how to tame a crying child no less?

The best option he thought of was to carry you to your bed quarters and your stepmothers quickly complied, Maria whispering sweet nothings into your ears as she carried you, and Sierra lurking not too far behind.

There was some fun in isolation, you thought, as you found solace in the confinement of your room. Whenever you tried to stay outside in the company of others, so did the feeling of being watched return, the dread worsening the smaller the crowd gets. The feeling always disappeared when you were alone in your room, or by yourself… hold on, did you just hear your bedroom door lock?

This man was not your father. It made sense now why your sister treated him with disrespect. If he was not your father, could he possibly be one of your siblings? Though he looks like him, a carbon copy you think, he was sure far worse than your father in personality. Dull, apathetic, and very sadistic. He had no regard for life either as he shamelessly killed the maid assigned to you in front of your eyes. Even when the blood splattered on his face, he showed no emotion, maintaining eye contact with you. Could he be the one that was watching you all this time? Why did he wait to approach you when you were alone? Have you upset him in some way? Was he going to slaughter you next? All these questions ran through your head, unknowingly letting the tears gathered in your eyes run down your cheeks. This caught his attention, the smirk you remembered him having on your first encounter spreading on his lips. Kneeling in front of your bed, uncaring of how you trembled in his company, he reached out a hand, rubbing his finger tenderly against your cheek. It was sick how he found satisfaction that he evoked such a reaction from you. A teardrop fell onto his finger and he brought it to his lips, tasting it. What was meant to be salty, the flavor burst with sweetness in his mouth.

“I wonder what other reactions I can get from you.”

Weak… Fragile… Gentle… Pure… Innocent… How are you surviving in this god-forsaken household? It’s even more amusing to witness the same man, her father, protect what he firmly strived to kill. And that’s how GRISELDA formed a great interest in you, the youngest of The Black Agriche. She remembers clearly, a conversation she held with one of her younger half-sisters years ago, the person responsible for knocking her out of her top three rankings. Smiling happily with her fingers interlaced underneath her chin, she promised to show her something that will greatly humor her.

You may not have been the ‘thing’ her sister was referring to, nevertheless, it was not an unwelcomed one. Ah, she wonders, how long has it been since she has had that spark of interest? The day her sibling died in front of her eyes, feelings such as love became foreign to her. But, you? You restored these lost feelings of hers from first sight. She was stupefied when it happened, her body overflowing with spontaneous bursts of energy.

Truth be told, she had an eye on you for the longest while now, aching to meet you in person at least once. But, curse her hectic schedule to hell, leaving her no choice but to satisfy her curiosity about you from the little stories told by her other half-siblings. For the first time, she had felt a sense of ugly envy… Will they know of it though? No.

Fate was cruel to her, she thinks. First, to take away her sibling she loved, and second, to present, oh, such an ethereal gift, just to keep it away from her arm's length having to watch down on you from the villa’s balcony, scurrying about with her other siblings. For now, she’ll keep it that way, looking at you with a sober expression from afar, but still offering you exquisite gifts to make you aware of her existence.

It was another gift that seemed to spawn alive onto your dressing table, probably from your anonymous gift-giver. You had asked your siblings, including your stepmother who would occasionally step inside if they were the ones responsible, to which they all responded with a ‘no.’ You wondered if it were a servant that did it, but after what transpired with the previous one, you doubted anyone outside your family will be willing to take such a risk. This time, the gift was sitting in a glass vase, filled with water. In the vase were the flowers you adored with the lovely aroma. Happily, you whiffed the scent. Picking up the note that came with the gift, it read, ‘These flowers reminded me of you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do… Sincerely, Griselda.’

“Don’t die on me, Little Sister. I won’t allow it~”

You were very confused to see a red-headed girl on her hands and knees, panting heavily for air. She was shaken too, a sickly color to her pale skin and the cold sweat that ran down the exposed parts of her body. But as you caught the dim red glow in the corner of your eye, as well as the faint sound of wings flapping, you were able to put two-and-two together; the girl was most likely tormented by Roxana’s infamous killer butterflies.

You pitied her, knowing what those butterflies were capable of, one almost biting your finger clean off your hand in one instance. But, that was just a sole butterfly you dealt with, she must have encountered several. And from one victim to another, you approached her shaking form in the hopes of comforting her.

Though… it seems she didn’t appreciate the sentiment… the fiery stare she gave you in response shut you up quickly and almost made you lose your bowels right there. Screaming insults and curses, she sprang to her feet and shoved past you, storming off to where she wanted to go. You just stood there in your spot, wide-eyed with your hands on your chest. Well, that’s what you get for roping yourself into situations that didn’t concern you…

From her outburst, you didn’t anticipate seeing her again, nor do you think she would want to see you. So her interrupting the tea party with yourself in the garden the next day startled you. Overcoming your shock, you smiled at her and invited her to join you and enjoy a couple of biscuits. She stuck her nose into the air and gawked at you as though you’d grown two heads… but still agreed. You did most of the talking, shortly learning her name, CHARLOTTE, and her exchanging haughty remarks here and then. It was a decent event…

If only you knew what exactly your brief display of kindness unconsciously resigned yourself to. Charlotte… was awfully demanding. After the tea party, Charlotte appeared by you very frequently, ordering that you drop whatever it was you were doing, and spend time with her. It could be one of the most important things you had to handle and she would not care. You could be with one of your siblings and she would not care. You could be sick and worn out, she will NOT care. If she wants to be with you, it will be now, no time for discussion. Just TRY to say no, it won’t do you any good. You said yes a lot, mostly because of your fear of what she will do if you deprive her of what she desired. She already made you petrified with a glare, how much worse will it be once she reaches her limit and lashes out? You have no ability to defend yourself when the time comes, so why should you cause trouble? Give in and avoid the unnecessary problem.

She was shaking with fury, hands angrily pulling at her puffy pigtails. How dare they…? HOW DARE THEY!? Are they stupid!? What do you mean you can’t spend time with her!? YOU BOTH ALWAYS SPEND TIME TOGETHER AT THIS TIME! WHY was she and him getting in her way of being with YOU!? They have to be stupid! While she went through an internal crisis, you clutched at your clothes, tears pricking at your eyes. Her green eyes were practically glowing with wrath from the hatred she harbored for your older sister and brother! She was also on the verge of snapping, that you can tell. She was losing all of her morality the longer they denied her what she wanted. You would have excused yourself long ago, but when she’s like this, that’s not the ideal option, for she may do something regrettable to you. Stepping behind your sister, your ears twitched at the sound of a whip cracking, inclusive of a butterflies’ wings, indicating the start of a full-on brawl.

“GO AWAY! Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!?”

And finally… YOU! How do you feel about your family's attention to you? You never saw how other families interact with their kin… but you knew that what your family was doing was wrong. It was dangerous and obsessive. Would you tell them that? No. Unless you wish to suffer a fate worse than death by confronting them, you will keep your silence until all the odds are in your favor.

They were the butterflies, your mannerisms and kindness as the sweet nectar and color that attracted them, and you, their delicate flower.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[wandascrush]

Welcome to the world

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pain, birth, crying, water breaking

Cold sweat lined your forehead when you opened your eyes, adjusting to the darkness in the room. You flung your sheets off the bed and sat up, immediately holding your tender belly. You felt nauseous, cramped up, and sweaty- the worst combo. Immediately, you waddled over to the restroom, splashing cold water on your face and taking shallow breaths in and out. Phew- you were calming down, everything was okay. Just the normal symptoms when your 38 weeks, nothing new.

You hoped the warm light pouring into the bedroom wouldn’t wake up your exhausted wife that only got four hours of sleep the night before, tending to your early morning sickness. You felt bad but hey, you were equal, it’s not like you got any sleep either with this little one growing inside you. You finished drying your face off with a towel and drinking some water through the sink when you decide to head back to bed and try to get more rest, it was probably just some Braxton hicks pains. That is until you felt a gush of water down your legs, your water broke

“Nat-,” she didn’t even stir. You gripped the side of the door frame, hands turning red as you groaned out in pain, “Natty!”

Two hours later you were in a delivery room, damp with sweat and a worried, but excited, wife holding your hand. The hospital lights flooded your vision as nurses and doctors came in and out, checking your dilation. 

Tender lips brushed the top of your head, “Shhhh detka, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for, just a little earlier than planned. Breathe, that’s it, in and out, just like that sweetheart,” and when you looked into her eyes you’d never seen so much love from another human. Your stomach immediately cramped again, pain washing over you as you closed your eyes and took shaky breaths out loud.

Clint was on his way with Laura, the future uncle and aunt of your child, speeding down the highway. Steve, your baby's future Godfather, was two hours away picking up flowers for you, a teddy bear for your little one, and candy for Natty and himself. The rest of the group was getting back from a mission overseas, no doubt they would miss the birth, but you knew they’d be there ASAP.

The warm glow of the bright lights kept you up, even as you tried to shut out all other senses. Closing your tired eyes and imagining what the cries of your baby would be like was the only thing that brought you comfort. Once the pain subsided and nurses stopped poking and prodding you, images of your new family of three eased your mind.

Natasha was right by your side, rubbing your back through the pain and nausea, dabbing your forehead with a cold compress for the hot flashes and feeding you ice chips. In this moment she swore to herself you’d never looked so beautiful. You were her dream come true. All three of you. An hour later your redhead had to step out to update Maria and Fury on what was going on.

At first, sure Fury was disappointed to lose one of his best agents for a couple months for maternity leave- but he couldn’t hide his excitement either.

Laura’s sweet gaze was above you in the meantime, gently lifting your head up to press cold compresses on your neck and chest.

“Hey momma, how’re we holding up?” She grabbed some water for you and adjusted your pillow. 

“Well, for starters I feel like a tiny human is kickboxing with my insides…so right on point I’d say.” You tried to sit up on your elbows, wriggling your way through the copious amounts of hospital sheets.

It felt like hours before the nurses gave you the go-ahead to start pushing. You had never been so glad for any decision like the decision to get an epidural during delivery. Was it still painful? Hell yes. But did it hurt a lot less? Also, hell yes. Natasha felt useless watching you, not being able to help. It was like being stabbed in the chest every time she heard you scream or start to cry. The best she could do was not keel in pain when you practically broke her hand from squeezing it so hard. And then- in a magical instant- she was here. 

Mae Lena Romanoff. 

This beautiful, new child you just delivered was crying and being wrapped in a blanket.

You and your wife’s biggest dream had arrived and she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Her nose was the same as her momma’s, with your e/c eyes. She had a full head of brownish-reddish hair like Natasha’s, damp on her small head. You couldn’t help yourself from crying, sobbing really, as you looked at this little doll in your arms. And as you looked up at Natasha, she was crying too.

The nurses started cleaning you up and doing all the usual routines after giving birth, making sure not only your baby was healthy but yourself as well. Natasha took the baby in her arms and sat by you, marveling at this little joy she created with her wife. Her gentle arms cradled the baby close to her ear as she whispered to her, “Welcome to the world, little one. As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you. Not ever.”

An hour later the room was filled with Clint, Laura, their kids, and Steve. All of them gently stroked the baby’s head, cooing and “awww”ing. You held her close and pointed to everyone in the room, “That’s your Uncle Clint, he’s going to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow. And that’s your Auntie Laura, one of the best people you’ll ever meet. Those are your cousins that are going to play with you until you’re all grown up. And that right there, is Steve. The best Godfather anyone could ask for. Later on you’ll meet Tony and Pepper, they’ll get you into so many adventures. We’re all going to love you so much, sweet baby. ” If you could freeze this perfect moment in time, you absolutely would. You knew that as long as you had Natasha, your daughter, and this village to help raise her- your family would always be okay.

[purble-turble]

As always I am a little late to the party.. but here have some Red Son and his chicken! And while you are at it, go read Sweet Baby, Useless Child by @pittdpeaches! In fact go read ALL his stories, he writes the best Spicynoodles 🥰

[writingoddess1125]

Hi, I love Morticia and Gomez Effect universe, and I have to say it. I'm the only one who thinks that if she ends up getting pregnant, it would be a girl. How would Mihawk be as a girl dad. Or, would they have twins or triplets?? They want an army, after all.😏😉

I like your thinking! MWHAHAHAHAHS

Morticia and Gomez Effect - pt. 3

Creating an Army

Mihawk x FemReader

Previous <<

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• It seemed all that really had to be done was speaking the wish for a child- In less then 2 months you found out you were pregnant. Much to the delight of Mihawk and yourself.

• Mihawk was very protective of you, essentially a helicopter. He needed to make sure you were safe and healthy, cooking all your meals, making sure Perona was as respectful as possible and didn't dare to cause a fuss while you were pregnant.

• Which she didn't in truth. Perona had been actually excited at the idea of a baby, flooding the place with more stuffed animals and 'cute' onsies.

• While for you, the pregnancy reminded you of the sea. At times calm and cool, while others it was like a raging storm in your body. You were fortunate that Mihawk was like a massive ship that could ride through the calms and battle thr storms, Rubbing your back when you puked- Whsipering sweet words when you cried and wiping away the discomfort that settled on your bones as the baby grew.

• It was a normal day, you were 6 months along in your pregnancy and Mihawk had gone out to train. Leaving you to the peace of your favorite fruit tea and some cakes.

• Delightful

• As you tucked into your new found treats you heard the door open and the sound of chattering. Knowing that it wasn't Mihawk you reached for the blade you kept tucked to your side under the large blanket you were under.

• Till you saw young familiar faces.

• The young Pirates, The Strawhats finally had return it seemed. With your necklace in tow as they looked like they had been through quite a journey and back. The scorch marks upon their clothes also being a amusing sight.

• Zoro stepped forward, bowing respectfully to his teacher. The other pirates also coming to greet you and hopefully stay in your good Graces.

• "Madam Dracule, We have your necklace" Zoro said with calm respect.

• He watched you stand and his eyes and the eyes of the young pirates all went to the same thing that had been obstructed by the thick blankets. Your rounded stomach-

• "Thank you Zoro, I do hope it was able to help in your journey" You say calmly as you take the necklace from him- Seeing how their faces went to that or horror and shock at the sight of your clearly pregnant stomach.

• The blonde one, with a weird eyebrow was the first to break "THATS NOT FAIR!? HE GETS A HOT WIFE AND GETS HER KNOCKED UP!?" He screamed in shock which surprised you before the rest of the crew decended on him like hounds to shut him up. Zoro still just standing there shocked till a random foot seemed to hit him and he joined the fight-

• Of course Mihawk hurt the commotion and quickly went to find you, coming to a sight he didn't know what to deal with first.

• There the strawhats were all fighting each other. The two women of the crew speaking to you calmly and touching your rounded stomach with your blessing as you held your ruby necklace and A passed out Reindeer at the foot of the fight..

• Deciding the fighting was the first thing be wad quick to knock out all the boys and toss them out his home. The reindeer he just stepped over since it was useless- he also make quick work to ask the women to leave which they did after giving polite goodbyes and congratulations.

• That leaving Mihawk to then scoop you up and bring you to bed. Having found that it was bedtime-

• Possessive as ever...

• In the coming months, the house was prepared for your birth. Mihawk having brought in a medical team for you- You assumed they were paid well but terrified.

• It had been after dinner, 3 weeks early when your water had broke. It seemed your child wanted to make their grand entrance early.

• It was like the world had stopped when you felt a rush of water down your legs when you went to stand to get some juice- Mihawk and you both just staring at the floor under you were the water was

• ....

• "..Hell" Mihawk muttered first, shooting back his wine in a effort to calm his nerves before rushing over to you and quickly escorting you to the labor room. Summoning the doctors quickly as well who got you prepped and ready.

• It was slow at first- But as the hours ticked by you the pain increased. Mihawk seated next to you as he tried to guild you through the waves of pain that wrecked your body.

• While labor is hard, He knows you are quite strong and will survive. You have to... You can't leave him

• "You alright darling?" He ask softly, holding your hand as you suffer with bringing in the next Dracule in the world.

• You give a weakened smile "It is painful- But it's a is not worth dying for" You say playfully, Earning a smile from Mihawk who kissed the back of your hand.

• The poor Doctors are uncomfortable by the whole situation. Especially with how calm you were during God Damn Labor!-

• It was near twilight of the next Morning did the labor finally come to an end. A shrill cry piercing the cold morning air as new life was brought in.

• "It's a Girl!" The Doctor said cheerfully as the crying child was liftwd and placed on your chest carefully and beginning to be cleaned with a towel.

• You and Mihawk seated next to each other staring wide eyed and in awe at the little girl screaming on your chest.

• "Looks like I had nothing to do with this at all" You mused, seeing how your little daughter looked so much like her father it was unfair. Even with her face pink from crying and her rounded face you could clearly see Mihawks genes had dominated yours.

• The thin layer of black hair onto her head also not helping. Mihawk chuckled as with a gentle hand he touched his daughters hair.

• "She is beautiful" He says softly, his own eyes getting misty as he stared at the little girl.

• Is actually quite pleased their first child is a girl and the only. It couldn't be better in his mind as he remembers his youth around the children that Gol D Roger would bring onto the ship. The boys were the most troubling.

• "She is.." You say softly, Watching as she settled down and yawned. Reaching out her little arms randomly, her little pudgy fingers wrapping around Mihawks finger. You practically saw the hearts in his eyes when she did this-

• In less then 4 minutes the baby girl has already stolen her father's heart and has him wrapped around his finger.

• "Dracule Marya" He whispered. Kissing your cheek as he smiled down at his daughter. You swore you saw tears in his eyes.

• Mihawk is a absolute girl Dad, Truthfully a good father overall. He enjoyed cleaning up after her, helping with feedings, choosing important items for her development.

• He does have one poor habit however-

• You stand there with your arms crossed under your bust as you raise and eyebrow at your husband. "Mihawk hand her over my love- She needs to learn to sleep in her crib" You explain.

• Marya was 4 months old and Mihawk had grown used to Marya sleeping in the bed between you two. So you had finally decided to put the smaller crib to use, pulling it into your twos shared bedroom so she could no longer sleep in the bed with you.

• But here she was-

• Your husband holding your half asleep daughter in his arm carefully while finishing some paperwork. This had been the 2nd time that night you had placed Marya in her crib to sleep on her own and everytime she cried in less then 10 minutes it would stop and you'd fine Mihawk holding her again in his study.

• "She was crying" He said calmly, setting down his pen to pat her back to comfort her.

• "That's the point Darling- She needs to learn to sleep in the crib" You stress, seeing Mihawk scowl at this and hold her closer to his chest.

• "She doesn't like it" He said stressing- This making you sighing at his dramatics.

• "Fine- But you'd have stay in the nursery with her since she can't sleep in our bed anymore" You said with a sigh.

• He slept in the nursery, on the floor next to the crib with his hand resting ontop of her- for 3 nights before you finally kicked him out and strong armed him to let her sleep in the crib in the bedroom.

• Besides Mihawks constant want to hold his daughter and carry her everywhere he was perfect. And in his eyes so was she-

• Mihawk sat there watching you, feeding little Marya and cooing softly at her as she watched the world around her, her eyes matched yours the only thing that you seemed to give to the little girl since she was such a clone of her Daddy.

• "Darling" Mihawk called to you waving you over, making you look up from your task at hand. Marya pulling from your breast full from her meal.

• Walking over Mihawk gently took Marya from you, beginning to burp her as you pulled your shirt back to place. He smiled as his yellow eyes gleamed

• "What is going through your head my Love?" You question. Knowing that look all to well. Mihawk shrugging slightly to keep from shifting Marya too much.

• "We should have another-"

Tag List- {Sorry I forgot to put it!}

@who-the-hockeysticks @vexladin @iraaiitz

@stellasloth @yuriwk

[holylulusworld]

Indifferent (5)

Summary: Your father wanted a bond between you and the Barnes Empire. No matter what.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, arguments, mafia au, strong reader, jealousy, teasing, language

Catch up here: Indifferent (4)

Indifferent Masterlist

Bucky was always a mother’s boy. He loved to bask in her praises and all the things she did only for him. He was her firstborn and always had a special place in Winnifred’s heart.

Now everything has changed. His beloved mother ignores him to spend time with his wife and he can’t take it. Bucky sulks in the corner of his dining room, watching his mother and wife conspire.

In truth, you are talking about cutlery, wine, and flowers. Bucky only imagines you conspiring with his mother to make his life harder.

He harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest. Bucky watches you giggle at something his mother said with angry eyes. “How much longer will this take? I’m hungry and this is the dining room.”

“Shush, Jamie,” Winnifred coos. “We are close to choosing the flower arrangements. Your wife has a good eye for decoration and flowers.”

“She sure knows how to spend money for useless things,” Bucky huffs and points at the vase filled with lilies standing on the dining table. “She is wasting my money on shit like that every day.”

“She has a name—” Winnifred snaps at Bucky. She narrows her eyes, and huffs. “If you don’t make her gifts, Y/N has to buy the things she likes. Do you want to deny your wife even the simplest things?”

Bucky inhales sharply. He holds back comment, and rather huffs. Bucky can’t believe you wrapped Winnifred around your fingers. How can his mother be on your side? He still doesn’t understand what he did wrong.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, eating dinner like an animal on the kitchen counter,” he snarls, before leaving the room. He can hear Winnifred chuckle about his outburst. “Yeah, laugh about me.”

“Jamie, stop making a fuss. You’re not a child anymore. Can you act like a grown man for once? I’m not going to baby you.”

Bucky throws something against the door of the dining room. He curses loudly before storming off, earning a chuckle from you and his mother.

“He was such a sweet boy…”

Bucky follows an odd noise toward your wing. He frowns, as you moan loudly. “I knew it,” he snarls before breaking your adamant rule to not enter your wing of the mansion. Bucky almost rips the door out of its hinges, storming inside to find the source of your pleasure.

“Right there, Thor,” you whimper, and moan. “Yes, oh God…yes. Please, harder.”

Bucky gets his gun out. If you bring that masseur slash secret lover to his home, he has the right to kill him. He unlocks the gun and kicks the door to your bedroom open.

You shriek in terror and immediately snap your head toward the door, or what’s left of it. Bucky stands in the doorframe, a gun aimed at Thor, and his chest heaving.

“Did you lose your mind?” You cry while Thor’s hands are still on your shoulders. The blonde giant tuts and goes back to work. It’s not the first time a husband or boyfriend misinterpret his profession. “Get out!”

“I won’t let that giant touch my wife!” You huff at Bucky’s words, but your eyes are still glued to the gun in his hands. “Take your hands off my wife!!!”

“Sir, I must ask you to not stress my client,” Thor doesn’t sound scared at all. He continues kneading the knots out of your shoulders. “She was about to relax before you ruined my hard work.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky puffs out a huff. “I’m aiming a gun at your head, and you still touch my wife?”

“She pays me for a full hour, Mr. Barnes.” If not for the gun aimed at Thor, you’d chuckle at his response. “If you’d excuse us now. This is not a show, but a private session.”

“Punk, do I speak unclearly?” Bucky grunts, while stepping further into the room. “This is a gun, and I’ll use it if you don’t take your dirty hands off my wife!”

“Mr. Barnes, I can assure you my hands are clean and disinfected.” You can hear the smirk in Thor’s voice. “Hygiene is an important part of my job. I’d never touch your lovely wife with dirty hands.” Thor replies lowly. “Only if she wants me to, though.”

Bucky fires a bullet into the wall next to Thor. The blonde doesn’t even flinch. “Your accuracy is not the best. Do you want me to train you?” Thor laughs at Bucky’s pissed expression. “I’m an excellent trainer.”

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Bucky sounds beyond angry. He’s close to losing control, you can see it in the way he clenches his jaw. “What if I give you a brand-new haircut? One bullet and your locks are history.”

“Christ, Bucky,” you whisper Thor’s name, asking him to stop. He immediately steps away from the massage table to give you space to sit up. “Can you not act like a goddamn caveman?”

Bucky wilds his gun, growling and snarling at you. “You brought that man into my home. I told you to not do such a thing. But here we are.”

“I needed his help,” you bite back. “Every time you are around, my back locks up, and I have kinks in my neck. Thor’s hands are magical.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. He inhales sharply when you keep on praising Thor’s hands.

“You!” He points his gun at Thor. “I give you ten seconds to haul your ass out of my home. If I ever see your bleached hair ever again, you are dog food.”

Thor eyes your husband warily, debating if it's worth it to get shot.

Bucky steps closer to grab your upper arm, dragging you off the massage table. “And you will come with me. I’ll show you what happens if you ever let another man touch you.

Tags in reblog.

[literaila]

I was thinking, if reader and gojo decided to have a baby of their own, I'd wanna honor Haibara and name that baby after him but I have this gut feeling gojo would hate it. Also most ffs I read where they have a baby, the child inherits gojos limitless but I have a feeling that wouldn't be the case. Watchu think?

“kaoru?”

“boring.”

“izumi?”

“too common.”

“ami?”

“blech, no.”

you sigh, shaking your head at him. “ami literally means beautiful.”

“and boring.”

satoru is sitting at the end of the couch and rubbing your feet (because you threatened him) and you’ve been at this… well, technically six months. but currently? fifteen minutes.

it’s not like you agree on most things—but you didn’t expect satoru to really care all of that much about a name. he might care about the color of the nursery, but he’s not that sentimental. indifferent, if anything.

though, if satoru can defy your assumptions in any way, he’s sure to do it.

it would be kind of sweet… if it wasn’t completely annoying.

“you know you’re supposed to make your own suggestions?” you ask him, wearing his pout. “not just turn down all of mine.”

satoru grins and you groan on instinct. “i like megumi for a girl.”

there’s a cabinet closing from the other room and then a brief: “shut up,” like megumi can’t be bothered to care any further.

you refrain a smile and point a finger at your antagonistic husband. “don’t ridicule the blessing,” you tell him, and very sternly too.

“i heard that too,” megumi mumbles, setting down two mugs on the coffee table.

you grin at him in thanks. “i know.”

while satoru pours a gallon of sugar in his tea and megumi idles through the baby names book you’ve been hoarding, you close your eyes, thinking again.

“how about sayuri?”

“that’s too close to mine,” satoru resumes his methodical feet massage, much to your relief. “we’d get confused.”

“that’s not even remotely close to satoru.”

satoru make a face. “besides i don’t want any flower names. too girly.”

megumi frowns, snorting. “she’s a girl.”

“and you’re a boy but you still—“

“don’t even,” you interrupt satoru, kicking his leg. he sticks his tongue out at you because he is very mature. “you make a suggestion, gojo.”

“i already did,” he wags a finger at megumi tauntingly.

“so two megumi’s in the house is fine, but god forbid her name shares a syllable with yours?”

satoru pretends to consider it. “yup.”

“i’m moving out soon,” megumi tells you, rolling his eyes at his father—they have a very loving, respecting relationship (obviously).

you pout again and megumi nudges your mug—more of a mother hen then you’ll ever be. you grab it reluctantly, and he turns away.

“see!” satoru points at him, reaching over to ruffle the boys hair—and failing. “he’s okay with it.”

“i do not find you funny, satoru.”

“yeah, you do,” he grins at you, tickling your feet just enough to make you squirm. you would have a fond look on your face, of course, if you didn’t have a reputation to uphold.

no one can know that you actually like satoru and the stupid things that he says.

and you both glare at each other for a minute—or two—but then megumi murmurs, “i like akemi.”

you blink and look at him, but he’s staring down at the book in contemplation.

hes really been so helpful with everything. cooking dinner when you’re tired, dealing with satoru constantly, going with tsumiki to find baby clothes and useless (but adorable) baby shoes.

you can’t help the little twitch of your lips, or the admiration the pit of your stomach holds for him. “that’s pretty,” you whisper, sitting up again, “bright, right?”

megumi nods.

you turn to satoru, eyebrows raised.

he immediately rolls his eyes. “no.”

“what? come on, that’s nice.”

satoru crosses his arms, your feet aching with his absence. “i’m not taking suggestions from a fifteen-year-old.”

“are you kidding?”

he frowns at you, eyes shining much too bright for the middle of the day—or anytime, really.

you nudge him with your foot and lean back again, readjusting. “why are you better at this than your father, megumi?”

“hey!” satoru sits up, looking dejectedly at both of you. “he just has more room in his brain to think.”

megumi snorts and you laugh, sipping on your tea again.

“it’s true,” satoru insists, “it’s hard being gojo satoru.”

you roll your eyes and nod exaggeratedly. “oh, i’m sure. big decisions to make.”

satoru pouts.

megumi hums. “glasses or blindfold, today?”

“should i threaten this kid with execution, or save his life?”

at that, megumi actually laughs and satoru slides even further down on the couch, arms still crossed.

“that was once,” he says, glaring at the both of you.

you blink at him.

“twice.”

“and yet you still can’t decide on a name,” you tut, megumi is still flipping through the book, trying to hide his smile.

“where is tsumiki when you need her?” satoru whispers, looking back towards the hallway. then he scoffs. “and i would decide if your names weren’t bad.”

“your name is literally satoru—“

“kazue?” megumi interrupts, tapping on the table.

satoru rolls over, groaning. “ugh, no.”

you sigh again, looking down at your belly. the baby is lucky that she has three more months before she has to deal with any of this.

“we may need to replace your father,” you tell her.

at that, satoru basically squawks.

***

of course. they are having a girl because megumi needs another sister. so no haibara—but reader does suggest yu.

and besides i think she would want to save that name for nanami and refrain from crying every time she has to fill out a school form for her third child.

to answer your other question—it does seem unlikely for the baby to inherit satoru’s techniques (considering he’s the first in a century) but maybe the genetics are just that strong.

i wish i knew more about the actual statistics of cursed techniques and how often they’re passed down/how many people receive a technique from their parents. based on what megumi says (“how many people have you met that can actually see curses?”) it’s probably more likely that their baby has no cursed energy at all.

it would be fun to play around with their techniques though. and to imagine satoru teaching another poor child how to manage cursed energy.

[fbfh]

leo with baby fever? 🥹

i've always wondered what would he be like with babies of his own? 🥹💞

AAAAUGH. thank you for this one my dearest darlingest tumblr user pdlrnjlm. I'm violently sobbing over this one /pos. also excuse any egregious typos, I just woke up from a dream where my dyslexic ass couldn't spell "chris evans fine" to the point that autocorrect was beyond useless (and probably laughing at me).

ANYWAY. Leo with baby fever is... lethal. as previously stated, Leo is the motherfucking ceo of "one wouldn't hurt" but he sounds so... convincing when he says it. he says it so sweetly you start to think huh. maybe one wouldn't hurt. within a day or two his fyp is just cute baby fever inducing videos. he casually learns everything there is to know about child development and parenting in a matter of days. he starts treating your cat like a baby, talking to them and holding them on his lap while he works and good GOD if it doesn't start to hit you too. The tension and soul aching need to see you all big and preggers with his baby, your baby that you made together is almost too much. Then one fatal day, you run out of clean pajamas. It’s laundry day, and the only comfy thing you have on hand is a floral mumu from walmart that looks like something a grandma would wear, but you’re desperate and it’s soft and loose and comfy. So Leo, after spending hours rotting his brain with baby thoughts and thinking about how nice it’ll be to be a dad and how fulfilling it’ll be to come home and see a wrinkly little newborn having tummy time on your chest while you’re both half asleep to barrio sesamo playing on the tv. After a full day of ruminating on that, he comes home and sees you in your floral lil granny nightgown and good GOD something inside him snaps. You have this man feeling you up, snarling and growling, purring in you ear before he bites it. Something has gotten into him and taken full control of the primal part of his brain. And let’s be real here. You might as well consider yourself pregnant from the first “c’mon estrella, one or two couldn’t hurt… they’re so little, you won’t even notice them.” into your neck while he hugs you from behind. But yeah. Leo with baby fever is so simultaneously sweet cute fluffy domestic and rearrange your guts at the same time that it’s kind of inevitable. If Leo kisses your neck and rubs your tummy and says “you’d look so cute pregnant, baby…” you’re gonna fold. You have to. No one can resist that. And who would want to????

[dilfstar]

daddy dearest

realdad!leon x daughter!reader 3k words. warnings ! incest, forced ddlg, infantilization, slight coercion, drugging, fingering, oral (f), piv, daddy kink, loss of virginity, creampie notes ! mega super awesome thank you 2 @localkiss for the idea and so much of this... wouldn't be able 2 do it without U i love u 🙏 ignore how fast the pills kicked in... just go w it ☹️

You were old enough to move out, get a job, live on your own, be an adult. But he had other plans. What kind of father would he be if he let his sweet, innocent daughter out into the cruel, harsh world? Where people could get you, men could grope you, ruin you! Just the thought of it made his skin crawl…

Leon made sure you stayed home, safe, and tucked away in your childhood bedroom. The walls were still painted in a light pink. Though, the decor was more reminiscent of a 5-year-old's room. Toys and coloring books were everywhere, with stuffed animals watching your every move. Yikes.

All of your old clothes were thrown out, too mature for his liking. What? Was he supposed to let his little girl wear next to nothing around the house? What if he had company over! His friends would eye-fuck you into the next century!

It wasn't like you didn't try to fight it or leave. You just couldn't. He put stuff in your food. You know he does. But how are you supposed to stop him when you can barely walk long enough to get to the bathroom on time? Your legs were turned into useless sticks from all the pills he snuck into your food!

He lived in some kind of delusion. Some made-up world where what he's doing to you was good for you, saving you. Fucking freak! You're his daughter! Not some random girl he met on the street, not some fucked-out whore he picked up from a bar. His child, his own flesh and blood. What kind of dad fucks their own daughter?

A good one! At least according to his definition of the term. A good dad should fuck his daughter’s brains out, leave her full of cum and barely conscious. It's his right. He deserves this after all the years taking care of you!

He didn't really care how you felt about the situation. Why would you be thinking about it in the first place? You're just his dumb little baby, too high to even eat on your own. You needed Daddy for everything. You needed him to feed you, change you into your cute little outfits, bathe you, fuck you until your body gave out. 

He ruined you. Leon took and took and took until you were nothing, just a doll for him to use and abuse with his twisted fantasies. He was a sick, sick man. A sick, twisted man you still loved. More than anything in the world. How could you possibly hate him? He's your daddy! He's just looking out for you.

It all happened so fast. Starting from a simple movie night with your dad. A few too many beers making you a little too needy, clinging to him like you did when you were little. The way you rested on him, used him as a pillow. Oh, it made his heart squeeze!

Your voice was so soft as you cuddled up to him, mumbling Daddy over and over. Leon raked his hands through your hair as you laid your head on his lap, so, so close to his dick. The way you wiggled around so much made it so difficult for him to keep it together. Such a tease, just like your mother.

Maybe that's why he loved you so much. You looked just like her, after all. Same hair, same nose, same lips… He needed you. He needed you so badly that it hurt. His cock ached, craving something warm around it. Something tight. Something perfect, like you.

You would be the best thing, right? I mean, you’re literally made just for him. Meant to be used as his personal fleshlight. The thought of any other guy touching you made him sick to his stomach. He deserved to be the only one! That's when it all clicked inside his head—the perfect plan coming together.

Leon carried you up to your old room, setting you down on the twin-sized bed like a princess, tucking you in with a gentle kiss on the lips. You tasted so sweet, like the strawberry chapstick you always put on. “My beautiful angel… All mine…”

He planted another kiss on your forehead before leaving, running down the stairs to the garage to get some boxes of your old toys and clothes. He had to get everything set up while you were asleep, so you could wake up to your (his) dream!

Your head was pounding the next morning, the sunlight coming in through the window not helping. The sudden attack of pink woke you up instantly. Every single inch of the room you were in looked like a little girl's dream come true. The number of stuffed animals and dolls around you made your eyes burn.

You looked down at the outfit you were wearing, a shocked gasp falling from your lips. What could've possibly happened last night for you to be wearing something straight out of a Justice catalog? In what world would you willingly put on something this childish? 

The door opened, revealing a smiling Leon carrying a tiny cup in his hand, a few pills in the other. “Hey, sweetheart… ’m glad you're awake. Was starting to get worried! Here, I brought you some medicine. Should help with your headache…” 

He handed them over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you swallow the pills. His stare was focused directly on your body, as if he wanted to pounce on you and attack. It all felt so off, so nauseating. Why was your dad staring at you like a piece of meat? Why did you wake up to all of this?

The room started to spin, your vision blurring as your head hit the pillow behind you. Everything felt so hazy, like a fog rolled into the room, blocking all of it from your view. “Dad… Daddy… What’s happenin’...?”

Leon crawled over to you, pulling back the fluffy comforter, revealing your bare legs underneath. He had to bite back a groan; the sight of you, his daughter, so vulnerable made him feel crazy. His hands moved up your legs slowly, inching towards your inner thighs, pulling them apart to reveal the pink and white polka-dot panties covering your core. He leaned in, inhaling your scent like it was the antidote to an illness he'd been suffering from forever.

“Shh… Just rest… “Daddy's here.” He mumbled, his breathing shallow and fast. His fingers looped underneath the waistband of your panties, gently pulling them off and pocketing them. He needed something for later!

He poked and prodded at your cunt, smiling like a perv at how perfect you looked. The light touches, mixed with his soft breaths sent chills down your spine. Your hips bucked as he brushed against your clit, disgust immediately washing over you. Why was he touching you like this? Why did you like it?

“Need t’see if my girl is a virgin… Make sure she saved herself for me…” He placed his thumb on your clit, pressing down gently, groaning at the way you shuddered from the slight contact. This shouldn't be turning you on. He's your dad, for crying out loud!

He spit on your pussy, eyes twinkling as the glob of saliva dripped down your slit. His fingers moved down to your hole, mixing the spit with your juices as he pushed a digit in. He started with slow, simple movements, soon adding another finger, and then another. 

They moved inside of you so painfully slowly that you wanted to scream at him to move faster! But whatever he gave you earlier made your tongue feel so heavy, your arms and legs felt like 40-pound weights were tied to them. All you could do was let your dad tease you like some jerk.

“Seems like you did… You did so well… I think you deserve a reward, yeah?” He pulled his hand away, causing a small whimper to escape from you. He stared up at you so sweetly, as if you were a princess awakening from a years long slumber. 

Leon leaned down, immediately diving into you. His nose bumped against your clit as he ate you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue thrust inside of you, lapping at your wetness like an animal. He groaned into your cunt, loving the way you tasted. If he was on death row and got offered his last meal? It would be you.

“‘m close… So close…” You whined, desperately trying to squeeze your legs around his head, still feeling too fuzzy to move a muscle. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and move your head, your body feeling too much like it was encased in cement. How were you already so sensitive? It’d barely been 5 minutes, and you were this close? 

The room felt like it was spinning again; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire. Pleasure shot up your spine, exploding in your head like a fireworks display. The word Daddy fell from your soft lips like a mantra. Your mouth could only form the one word, your brain filled with thoughts of him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you came, eyes shooting open and rolling to the back of your head. “S’too much… Too much! No more…”

He sat you on his lap like usual, grabbing a spoonful of whatever mushed-up food was on the pink plate in front of you, bringing it to your mouth while making airplane noises. Your mouth fell open like usual, allowing him to shove the head of the spoon in. He wasn’t a bad cook, no. He was just weird. Weird for making you act like a little girl at your age, weird for turning you into a toy.

You just wanted your old life back, when you had friends and other people to talk to. Acting like a kid wasn’t exactly the most fun thing a girl could do. Though you didn’t necessarily hate some of the attention he gave you. How fucked up is that? Liking the way your own dad touches you? What kind of sick freak acts like- Oh. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

He frowned at the way you denied the food, the dull look in your eyes. Why couldn't you just be good for him and eat it? Why did you always have to fight him on this? 

The plastic spoon hit the plate, food flying off it onto the table. His hand moved to your face impossibly fast, fingers digging into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he turned you to face him. “What did I say about acting bratty, hm? No treats for disobedient little girls.”

His grip on you was bruising, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent-shaped marks. The way he stared into your eyes terrified you. Anger hiding behind his blue irises. He was pissed. He was beyond pissed. Why couldn't you just listen?

“I told you not to do this again. Remember what happened last time? Y’wanna do that again? Sure seems like you do…” Your eyes widened as memories of that night flashed through your mind. The bruises he left all over, the red marks on your ass—how you couldn't sit properly for a week! The threat made you curl into yourself on his lap like a small child being yelled at for stealing from the cookie jar.

He released his grip on you, patting your cheek lightly with a sickly grin. Leon pulled down on your chin, opening your mouth enough to shove the spoon in again, making sure you swallowed the food. “Now, there's a good girl… So good for Daddy, yeah?”

He held onto your jaw as you ate, making sure you couldn't refuse him more. What kind of daughter disobeys their dad? Bad ones. What happens to bad daughters? They get punished.

His punishments were cruel, just meant to be pleasurable only to him. Spanking you with his belt, tying you to your bed, taking away your toys. His favorite was fucking you until you passed out! The way your eyes fluttered shut, how you went limp in his arms. God, he loved it. He loved how scared you were of him, the look of pure fear in your eyes was enough jack-off material to last for weeks!

His fingers curled inside of you, squeezing against the spot that made you see stars. Your head was spinning. Every inch of your body was on fire. “Daddy… I can't do any more… Please!!” You squealed, crushing his wrist between your thighs.

Your hands gripped the pink sheets beneath you for dear life, holding on as if you were about to fall off the side of a building. Bliss shot up your spine, filling you with a feeling of delight and pure disgust. All because of your dear, sweet father.

He smirked down at you, the sight of you writhing underneath him sent all the blood to his cock, the pajama pants he was wearing suddenly feeling a little too tight. “That's it… There's my girl… Y’think you're big enough to take me yet? Think you're ready for me, baby?”

Yes, God, yes! You wanted to scream it, let the world know you wanted to get fucked by your dad! But sadly, all you could do was nod. You looked like a stupid bobblehead toy, silently begging him to rail you into the next universe. None of it mattered when you had him, though. 

He chuckled at how enthusiastic you were, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on your lips, tongue rubbing against your bottom one, asking to be let in. You deepened the kiss, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling him in close. His hand left your soaked cunt, wiping itself on his pants before moving to the back of your head. He slotted himself between your legs, rutting against your heat as he made out with you. 

His free hand snuck down to his pants, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to pull his dick out. Leon pulled back from the kiss to look down, smirking at how wet you were. He looked up at you for a moment, a sympathetic look in his blue eyes. “This is gonna hurt for sec… Promise I'll be as gentle as I can…” And with that, he slowly pushed in. His head fell at how wonderful you felt around him, like you were already shaped perfectly for his cock.

“S’okay… I’ve got you.” The stretch absolutely burned. It felt like you were in some medieval torture device. At least the drugs he had you doped up on dulled some of the pain…

He moved his hand back to your clit, thumb moving in small circles, trying to make it at least a little more pleasurable for you. He pushed and pushed, inching in slowly until he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His chest heaved as he caught his breath for a moment, the whole situation now overwhelming him. “I’m gonna move now, ‘kay?”

With a small, comforting smile, he pulled back, shoving into you all at once. His thrusts started slow as you adjusted to his size, trying to be careful with you, terrified to hurt you. How could he live with himself if he hurt you without meaning to? Punishments were one thing… But actually harming you? It’d kill him!

Once he fell into a nice rhythm, all rational thoughts flew out the window. The fear of hurting you was gone, he couldn't care less about it now. It was like a switch flipped inside his head. Your walls just squeezed him too perfectly, clamping down on him like a vice.

It all felt so perfect, like it finally made sense. The disgust that was in you melted away at the feeling of him pounding away at you, just using you for what he wanted. It sent your heart into overdrive, the organ beating against your ribcage. Your head dropped back onto the mountain of pillows behind you, cushioning it while you let your father take advantage of you.

He felt like a teenager again, like he did before he met your mother. She was a good fuck, sure, and he did love her, but it just never felt as good as this. Nothing could ever compare to you, to how you felt around him. The way your velvety walls hugged him so wonderfully made his heart flutter in his chest. 

“Daddy… Daddy! S’too much… Can't do it… I-I can't!” You whined, shaking your head from side to side like you were throwing a tantrum. You felt too sensitive, his touches too much for your body to handle. The coil inside of you felt like it was about to snap, like it was about to explode! You didn't know if you could last much longer, and neither did he. His pace got sloppy the closer he got, hips stuttering inside of you.

He finally stilled as thick, hot spurts of cum coated your walls, painting them in a milky white. You squeezed around him, cunt refusing to let him go. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, legs twitching around his waist, accidentally pulling him in impossibly closer. You whined involuntarily as he pulled out, feeling too empty inside without him. He almost came again at the sight of his cum dripping out of you, staining the sheet below. 

“You okay, baby? Are you hurtin’ anywhere?” He checked over you frantically, looking into your eyes like a madman. All you could do in return was give him a sloppy, fucked out smile. A smile that made all the worry in him dissolve. He crawled off the bed, snaking his arms around you bridal style, carrying you off to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

[noellefan101]

Nick-Names - Genshin

Characters: Xiao, Scaramouche, Venti, Lyney, Albedo, Kaveh, Thoma, Diluc, Childe, Heizou, Kazuha x GN reader

Warnings: a lot of cheesy and weird nicknames, if you dont like some for a specific char you're welcome to send me your ideas, could be modern au, established relationship

(you can clearly see that i prob put in an OC, so im so sry, but some i just also really head-canon as the "would rather date a loving person than be loving" if you get what i mean)

Summary: both of your pet names for each other, some silly some sweet

Note: you can really tell where i had no ideas for nicknames. and ik i use both 'pet names' and 'nicknames' but im just kinda stupid and didnt care to change stuff when i was already done with it. also i may just have a problem but why does princess sound 10x better than prince, no matter your gender, anyway love youuuu

Xiao

He will always say what is on his mind, and he did the same thing when you brought up using pet names. he wasn't very fond of the idea, and sometimes he still isn't(depending on the situation). but he has gotten used to it more over time, like when you burst open his door and to talk to him while using the most absurd nicknames he´s ever heard of.

__

Pet names for you: lovely, qinxing, [shorter version of your name](sry people with short names, i fell ya)

Pet names for him: babe, baby, cutie, dove, birdy, my alatus

Scaramouche

Will never admit he likes being called weird things by you, EVER. if he did then he was drunk and he was totally lying. and that counts with calling you stuff as well, he would rather die than admit he doesn't just call you that bc you wanted him to.

__

Pet names for you: idiot, princess/prince, dear

Pet names for him: smoochi, love

Venti

He was probably the one who suggested the idea at first, like two days/weeks (seconds) into your relationship. i also think he already had at least one nickname for you when you were "just friends", in the crushing phase, and has some for all his other friends as well(prob also his teachers if school au, lul).

__

Pet names for you: windblume, cecilia, [insert the cheesiest thing you can think of], my love

Pet names for him: venni, my dear, sweetheart, my bard

Lyney

He would be over the moon if you gave him a nickname, and would instantly be looking like a tomato too. would increase its usage by tenfolds if you said you liked one of his nicknames. you cannot stop him even if you somehow got 'Father' involved.

__

Pet names for you: babe, mon trésor, mon amour, beautiful

Pet names for him: sweetie, amour, lyn

Albedo

He didn't really see a use for it at first, finding it kind of useless. but sooner or later realized how happy you looked when he had somehow slipped up and called you 'love' when he needed your assistance. and later just didn't bother to stop.

__

Pet names for you: love, my cecelia, my dear

Pet names for him: 'bedo, lovely, (my) genius

Kaveh

He LOVES nick-names, probably made one for everyone in the friend group(yk alhaitham, tighnari n cyno), and would be delighted to make some up for you.

__

Pet names for you: beloved, lovely

Pet names for him: baby,

Thoma

He really wanted to try using them, yes he calls Ayato and Ayaka my lord and my lady, but its just not the same as calling your lover something sweet. and good luck if you don't like it, he's keeping those names forever.

__

Pet names for you: babe, sweetheart, baby, sleepyhead, lovely

Pet names for him: babe, love

Diluc

He honestly wasn't a fan at first, he hated it even. but of course, you being you, insisted on using names for him, and encouraged him to at least try to use some for you. so he kinda got into routine with it.

__

Pet names for you: my love, my dear

Pet names for him: dear, red head, love, my hero

Childe

Of course, he would use nick-names and such, he uses nick-names for the traveler and paimon, so of course he would be using such with you. honestly how could he not, especially when you're looking all cute cuddled up in his hoodie.

__

Pet names for you: my love, beloved, cupcake

Pet names for him: ginger, ma strong man(only for teasing purposes), hubby

Heizou

He'll almost never call you by your actual name, he didnt even when you two were just friends, only in the most serious of times would he do that. so it was no surprise that when you actually started dating, they could only become sweeter and cheesier as time goes by.

__

Pet names for you: princess/prince, baby, beautiful, (my) sunshine

Pet names for him: hei, zou-zou, babe

Kazuha

He loves it bc no matter what you call him he'll be happy. and he makes sure you have "some" as well, and i guess he just can't stop coming up with more, and they're always more cheesy than the last. you don't know how he does it, but maybe its just his poetry skills coming through.

__

Pet names for you: dove, (my) love, sweetheart, sweetie, my dear

Pet names for him: kazu, dear

thank u for reading whatever this thing is(totally not a filler bc i habe been working on that streamer au for too long), luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[chvnnie]

just some dad!skz thoughts for y’all

a little suggestive here and there, and because of that, MINORS DNI

bang chan - first daughter only

Definitely was the first to have a kid in the group. Spoiled is not a good enough word — his eldest daughter is like royalty in the group. If they know the baby is going to be around, somebody has something to give her.

Religiously watches hair tutorials (one screen has his mixing board, while the other is playing YouTube videos on loop) so he’s ready when she asks him to braid her hair. Has practice on you, Hyunjin, himself. They’re going to be perfect, because she deserves nothing less. The first braid is a little sloppy, but no one has the heart the tell him.

Travel crib folded up in his office, tucked behind the couch just in case. Everyone has used it.

If his little family goes on tour with them, or even just the local shows, he’ll make sure she has a set of headphones. Walks around to check mics with her in his arms.

It took him six weeks to find the perfect car seat for her. No, he’s not being picky. He’s being safe.

Keeps a mini diaper bag on him at all times. You’ll never catch him slacking.

When it comes to you, he’s the most devoted husband. Helps you postpartum, continually encourages to take days off. Reminds you daily how much he loves you, cherishes you, and always takes time to make you feel beautiful. (People sex after child is nearly impossible, but Chan is determined to make it possible.)

Very hesitant about co-sleeping until she’s old enough. Would even say he’s almost anti. But when she falls asleep on his bare chest, and the tv is playing at a low volume, and he’s just really, really tired. Your heart beams at the sight of them, matching expressions, snores coming from the both. You snap a bunch of pictures — it’s his favorite set.

lee minho

Protective? Please. Don’t offend him with that word — it’s not strong enough. If someone even breathes the wrong way in her direction, he’s ready to take measures to insure it will never happen again.

No. He won’t tell you what kind of measures.

He loves bath time. The little sink seat, the bubbles. When his daughter gets good motor skills, he loves the way she always reaches for the duck. Clutching it in her little fist, giggling with her father puts bubbles on its head.

Makes his own baby food. Why would he waste money on that canned stuff when he has fresh vegetables at home? Tsk. His blender is his best friend.

Has a whiteboard on the fridge with a list of what she likes (BIG YES for strawberries, or any berry mix, squash, sweet potatoes. HARD NO when it comes to bananas and anything green). Likes to introduce her early to foods, letting her explore.

Has taken Doongie out of her crib more than once. Caught her trying to feed Dori once. Always reaches for Soonie when she sees him past. Minho’s heart warms at his first babies loving on his new baby (even though she cried the first time Dori licked her cheek).

Daily family walks. It’s important to make sure she gets sunshine, and the fresh air is good for everyone. Always wants to push the stroller, but doesn’t complain when you reach for it.

Shower sex has become a habit, but he won’t complain about it. When you have a clingy baby, you take any opportunity you get. So pinning you the glass door happens more than it did before.

Fondly refers to you as “his girls”. It brings him so much pride that this is his family.

seo changbin — twins only

When the ultrasound showed two babies, he’s surprised he didn’t pass out. He got close though; the cold sweats, ringing in his ears, chills. Two babies? At once? Is it possible to be shaking with excitement but also absolute terror at the same time?

Your pregnancy wasn’t easy. The boys were heavy, and you found yourself on bed rest more often than not. Changbin wouldn’t tell you, but he was on edge the entire time. Seeing you so exhausted, so ready to get out of bed but unable to — he felt so useless. Even though he never left your side, making sure you had everything you could want and were as comfortable as possible, he hated himself for doing this to you.

And to top it all off, they were late. Of course they were. “They just love you so much, they don’t want to leave.” He tried to make you feel better, kissing your stomach, wiping your tears. Held your hand during the c-section, nose pressed to your forehead. Whispering every encouraging word he could think of to ease your fear, like he wasn’t drowning in his own.

When they finally arrive earth side? Oh, you both agree. It was all worth it.

They’re identical. The only difference are their eyes — one has yours, the other his. It was your idea to assign them colors (one is yellow, two is grey). Thank God for it too, because when they’re sleeping, he has no option but to guess.

Not a single second is taken for granted, but Changbin won’t lie and say the first year was his favorite. No, it’s when their personalities start to develop that he loved the most.

One really, really loves trucks. Is loud, runs through the apartment without a care. When he inevitably crashes into something, he bounces back up. Tiny feet carrying him away from the injury, like there isn’t a scrap on his forehead (isn’t a fan when Changbin chases him down to clean the wound).

Two prefers a quieter day. Sitting on the couch, eating yogurt bites as he watches his twin hit the wall. He’s low maintenance, most of the time, but when he gets upset? Oh, how the world is ending. Clings to Mama as he sobs. It’s so hard to be him.

Both, though, love musical instruments. Changbin’s favorite purchase (much to your dismay) is the tiny drum set he got them for their first birthday. One is a big fan of that, while Two stays on the toy piano. Their room filled with music all the time.

Has taken them to the studio a few times. Lets them watch as he and Chan work on songs, plays with Jisung when they’re getting a little rowdy. Eventually, they crash on the couch (along with Uncle Ji) before they can even record vocals.

Two is better than one. Whoever said that wasn’t lying.

hwang hyunjin — youngest daughter only

There’s no doubt. She is Hyunjin’s child.

Copy and paste. Down to the freckle under the eye, she literally looks just like him. Put their baby pictures side to side and have fun trying to figure out which is which.

She learned his scowl within the first year, when you tried to get her to try applesauce. The side eye was intense as she pushed the cup off her tray and called “Pup Pup” for Kkami to clean the mess.

Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious. Until you give him the same side eye, then his lips are sealed.

For both children, he got custom made rings. Birth stone pressed into a thin gold band, engraved with their birth flowers. Both children have one just the same, but adjustable, so they don’t grow out of it. He wears hers on his right middle finger — and what mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does.

Once, when she was still small enough to fit perfectly in a body carrier, her daycare was closed for the day. Water leak. Her brother was sick with the flu, and didn’t want you to leave his side. So Hyunjin took the youngest to work with him that day, completely forgetting that it was a dance practice day. Chan told him it was fine to push it a day, but they were already behind. Besides, the carrier is tight. One hand on her tiny body, he keeps her firm against his chest so she doesn’t bounce much.

After that, bringing her to practice became a habit. Especially after she started taking dance lessons.

What mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does. Down to the movement of her feet, trying to keep up with even the most intense choreos.

When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she always says Papa.

Bonus: you’re swimming in crafts. The two of them always up to something in Hyunjin’s home studio, painting and crafting the most beautiful art pieces you’ve ever been gifted.

han jisung

Oh. Oh, how do you begin to try to put a love like this into words?

Smothered. Smothered in kisses and snuggles all day long — and not just from him. Not to be biased or anything, but you’re both convinced she’s the best baby in the entire world. Look at those cheeks and try to convince you two otherwise.

Oh, you can’t.

And she’s the happiest little thing. Always giggling, so friendly, chatting up a storm with her babble. That baby doesn’t know a stranger; she’ll smile and wave at everyone.

Out of all the Kids’ kids, she’s at the company the most. Waltzing down the halls with her sippy like she owns the place, right behind her father. Naps on the practice room couch. Steals snacks from the cafeteria. Cut her a check, she’s put in some hard fucking work.

Speaking of naps — when Jisung is home, he’s always napping with her. When the clock strikes 12:45 in the afternoon, they’re both changing into nap time clothes and crawling in the giant bed. Soft music lulling them to sleep until his alarm goes off.

Has almost too many Quokkas. Which is ironic considering her skzoo bias is Leebit (Minho has been working on this since he was made aware of her existence, seeing his hard work pay off is delightful — until his daughter starts to grow a little too fond of her Quokka).

Mirror selfies. So. Many. Mirror selfies. He takes one monthly, saving them on his computer to document growth. Cries as he sorts through them every birthday.

She’s a heavy sleeper. Even as a newborn, she slept through the night with ease. Rarely does she wake up, and if she does, she can typically put herself back to sleep. Which is great, considering the second Bluey is off, so are your pants.

The dilf energy >>> something about becoming a father has made your husband even hotter. More intense in the bedroom, devoting time he doesn’t have to making sure you feel worshipped. Once he spent two hours between your legs — safe to say walking was difficult the next day.

Jisung desperately wants another baby. But that thought is always overpowered when she looks at him — why would you want more when she’s already perfect?

lee felix

House is literally never tidy. Organized chaos at best, but two kids under three make it impossible to keep up with chores. Felix tries — wakes up before you to wash the dishes, gets the majority of the mess cleaned before the little monsters wake up. But in a flash, it’s messy again.

Not that he minds. Or you. As long as the kids are happy and healthy, you can live with papers on the table or toys scattered across the house (except for that morning Felix tripped over one on the way downstairs. He’s doesn’t think that scar will ever fade).

Started prep on a Mother’s Day present MONTHS ago and is incredibly serious about it. The moment he has the kids alone, he’s scrambling. Color this, glue that, just like chill out for 30 second — he knows the paint is cold but the handprints are an essential part of this craft.

He’s had to redo the handprints seven times. But who’s counting?

It’s a recipe book, all the treats thought of by the oldest. Felix helped her write it, the youngest scribbled on some paper, and ta-da! Is it barely holding together? Sure, but you don’t care. Your heart is swelling, tears forming at the care that’s been put into it.

When you mentioned putting the kids in swim lessons, he was almost offended. “We bought this house specifically for the pool. No, I can teach them.” And, true to his word, as soon as the weather is warm, all three are out there daily. Sunscreen from head to toe, new freckles forming on all their faces. Sometimes you join them, but most of the time you just watch them fall deeper in love with each other.

Don’t ask me to explain this — but he SCREAMS airport dad.

Always there way too early, the oldest strapped to his back. Rushes your family through security — “How many times have we done this?” He’s gentle, but the annoyance is obvious to everyone but his daughter, who is grinning up at him. “Shoes off.” — stands in front of the giant screens with arrivals/departures. Hands on his hips, squinting slightly.

“Well it’s a good thing we didn’t book at 9:00 AM, aye, babe?” He shakes his head. “Definitely would have missed that one!”

Tracks the flight on his phone. Knows about delays before the pilots even do

at this point I’m just describing my own father

Is a PRO at soothing the baby on the plane. Standing out of the aisle, tucked in the back as he bounces him. Shushing him as he slides a pacifier in. Soothed and sleeping in under five minutes.

Honestly the most stereotypical dad of the group, and he fucking loves it.

kim seungmin

Last of the group to marry, last to have kids. By the time his son is born, Chan and Changbin already have three. Seungmin doesn’t really see the rush — good things take times.

And oh, is he the best thing.

The most organized nursery you’ve ever seen; all the baby hangers match, clothes sorted by season, then by color. Dresser drawers labeled so everything goes back where it belongs.

Prefers cloth diapers to disposable. Sure, the water bill is high, but do you know how long diapers take to breakdown? No thanks. Cloth works fine.

No, hand sanitizer doesn’t “do the same thing”. If you want to hold the baby, wash your damn hands. If he even lets you hold him. Fucking hand sanitizer, the audacity—

Every time he speaks to his son, he signs what he is saying. Getting him familiar with the hand motions, so when his motor skills develop, he can copy.

Has a good grip in sign language, and Korean, and English by age four.

But honestly, he doesn’t care about any of that. Good skills to have, but Seungmin is endlessly proud of his son. Found a smooth rock and gave it to him? Best gift ever. Messed up a word in Korean because he confused it with the English equivalent? That’s okay, it’s hard sometimes!

Everything his son does deserves to be recognized.

Lets him check his mic. Little fists wrapped around it, the five year old beaming as running over to Jisung’s daughter. Who is doing the exact same thing.

Intentionally involves him in every aspect of his life. Just because he has a time consuming job, doesn’t mean he’ll lose out on time with him.

Thinks you’re the reason the word milf exists. Because damn. Seungmin already found it hard to keep his hands off you, but something about watching you be a mom? Oof.

Literally could be just packing your son’s lunch after he’s gone to bed and he’s standing at the kitchen entrance. Wide eyes and mouth dry.

“What’s that look for?”

And then you’re bent over the counter with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Kinda has a breeding kink now?

But, fuck, have you seen you? Can you blame him?

Never really thought he wanted more than one kid, but with you? Oh, he wants a million more.

yang jeongin

Goes without saying, but. Matching outfits.

Started with just shoes, but over time, the collection has grown. Sometimes they match on accident even — there’s so much crossover in their closets.

When you feel left out, Jeongin takes his son to pick out an outfit special for the three of you. Wraps it up, has the little boy excitedly wake you up with the present.

Speaking of present, this kid has the most elaborate birthday parties. Jeongin does NOT play around; planning starts about six months out, and even then it’s a rush to get everything ready.

Your son looks forward to it more than any other holiday. And can you blame him? When it seems like the entire world is celebrating him?

Since the party is big, the presents are modest. If he gets too many, they go in a special closet. He’ll get to open one a week, not wanting him to get too entitled when it comes to gifts.

Always, always wants to sleep in bed with the two of you.

He’s a little snuggle bug, getting right in between you and Jeongin, desperate to be close at times. Not that either of you mind, for the most part.

But damn, have you guys become skilled when it comes to quickies. In the shower, in the car before heading to pick up, in an empty practice room while Hyunjin teaches a mini dance camp to the Kids’ kids.

Probably the biggest airplane parent, but only when it comes to safety. He’s so worried about his son getting injured, sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s okay for kids to push boundary.

That doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t drop when he asks if he can sign up for soccer.

dad!skz really is my fucking weakness—

[milliesfishes]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂, 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, childbirth, angst, murder, revenge pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: yours and coriolanus' daughter is kidnapped author’s note: requested by a very lovely anon- I didn't post with the ask because it has the plot in it, but I hope you know who you are and I hope you enjoy! much love, thank you for sending this in <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

He would kill for you.

That wasn't nothing. It was everything he would do for you summed up in five little words. All one syllable. Forming a threat to any who wronged you.

Coriolanus knew his soul was stained, tainted by the wrongdoings of his past, no matter how justified they were in his survival. Awful or not, he had made it this far, and now he had you. So how bad had it been, really?

You were a heart-shaped, lace-trimmed, sugar-filled surprise whom he'd fallen head over heels for instantly. How was he expected to resist such a treasure, a jewel in the worn crown of the Capitol?

No, you were perfect. And he knew he didn't deserve you. That didn't stop him from courting you, however, from making you promises with sweet kisses in tow. It certainly didn't stop him from spoiling you with both pleasure and pretty things, or from sliding an engagement ring onto your finger.

You were the sparkle in his eye, the shine to his reputation. But more than that, you were his love, his darling. Coriolanus had the best of everything, and his wife was absolutely no exception. You were the best of his best.

When you became pregnant, he was absolutely doting, making a point to spoil you even more than before if that was possible. His hands barely left you, except to reach for his credit card. Being the president, he had leeway to take as much time off of work as he needed to be by your side.

Coriolanus coddled your growing belly, spooning you every night with his arms wrapped protectively around it. He cocooned you with his affection and you made no move to break out of it.

You glowed under the effect of pregnancy, just as he knew you would. It filled him with a sense of pride, seeing you all round and full of his child. It was a sign that you were purely, undoubtedly his.

Childbirth very nearly sent him into a frenzy. Here, nature was taking control. Which meant he had none. Memories and thoughts of his dear departed mother flashed through his mind, and he tried not to let his fear show as he held your hand, smoothing sweaty hair from your face and telling you how well you were doing.

It scared him because his money was useless here.

Regal even as you were birthing his child, you spoke meekly, trying not to squeeze his hand too hard in fear of hurting him. He wanted you to break his hand if you needed to, whatever would alleviate your pain. But no, you were soft and kind even in agony.

When your baby girl slid into the world, he sighed in relief, even if only because your suffering was over. And as the doctor handed her to you, he could see tears shining like pearls on your face. There was that familiar pride. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment. "You're amazing," he muttered against your skin.

Then he saw his daughter fully for the first time. Coriolanus didn't believe in love at first sight. But now here he was, staring at his little daughter swaddled in your arms. You made a pretty picture. His girls.

Right then and there, his very first vow was remedied. There were two people he'd kill for now.

Penelope Snow was his purest love, held at equal status with you. Affectionately nicknamed 'Penny', she was the absolute apple of his eye. You always said she looked more like Coriolanus, and he supposed he could see it in her blonde hair and blue eyes. But when he really studied her, all he could see was your ethereal beauty reflected in his daughter.

Although Penny was an absolute darling who loved all she met, she was a daddy's girl through and through. He held her whenever he could, bouncing her on his knee and winding a hand through her blonde curls.

Often you would walk in on the sight of him in his study, Penny sleepy against his chest while he dotted i's and crossed t's on some proposal. He'd look up, smiling tiredly and patting his daughter's side. It was heartwarming- how much he loved her.

Because he was a pushover when it came to her, Coriolanus spoiled Penny beyond anything. You worried to him that she'd become some sort of monster because of it, but she remained sweet, always adorably thanking her daddy when he gave her something new. That only encouraged him more.

Penny loved walking in the garden with her parents, playing with her dolls, and reading. You made a point not to let her spend too much time with a nanny, conscious of the way the children of other socialites in your circles clung to their caretakers in place of their parents. When you brought up this concern to Coriolanus, he agreed, carving out time in his schedule to spend as a family.

Not only did he adore Penny, he also adored you as a mother. It filled him with joy to witness you with your daughter, and he let you know in every way possible. He held you closer than ever, hands wandering past your hips, whispering how much he loved you, how in awe he was of you.

It was a wonder you didn't fall pregnant again sooner. Penny was three when you received word from the doctor.

Of course, you both were overjoyed, and thus began his pregnancy routine again. He felt he'd never been happier than now, with his beautiful daughter and enchanting wife. The three of you were splashed across every tabloid in the Capitol. The envy of everyone, Panem's model picture-perfect family.

That was just the way he wanted it.

Coriolanus watched you adjust your earrings in the mirror, silently admiring you from behind. You caught his eye in the mirror, a lovely smile overtaking you. "Tonight, I'm unsure which part of me you're looking at."

When you stood, he was immediately encircling his arms around you, kissing your forehead twice. "All of you. Every bit. You're beautiful."

"Not too much?" you fussed with your dress as you said it, smoothing the sheer red fabric.

"Perfect," he nodded, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your hairline. "You're absolutely ravishing, my love."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. Reaching your delicate hands up, you smoothed his collar, fixing his tie. "You look so handsome," you said softly, leaning up to kiss him. He didn't care if you got lipstick on his mouth.

"Daddy?" Penny poked her head in, her face lighting up when she saw the both of you. She ran in, burying her little face into Coriolanus' knee. He scooped her up, balancing her on his hip and smiling.

"Isn't Mama pretty?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Mama's so pretty," she said with all the sincerity of a child.

You cooed, kissing her cheek and smoothing her hair. "My baby."

Coriolanus gave you a little frown. "We can't take her with us?"

"Oh, she'd be tired halfway through," you slid your arm around his neck, and he wrapped his free one around your waist. "These things go far past bedtime." You stroked your daughter's cheek for a moment. "Penny, give Daddy a kiss so we can get going."

She pressed her lips to Coriolanus' cheek, and he set her down with one last squeeze before she ran off to find her nanny.

Attention turned fully back to you; he thumbed a strand of your hair. "Shall we?"

You nodded, and he gave you a quick kiss before offering you his arm. He helped you down the stairs and into the car. Even though you were in the early stages of pregnancy, that didn't stop him from being overprotective.

The gala was typical of those kinds of events- champagne and allied conversation. It wasn't anything too precarious- you stayed on his arm sipping sparkling cider, playing the diplomatic First Lady wonderfully as you always did.

He could see you getting tired though, about three hours in. Parting ways with the Head Gamemaker, he turned to you, fingers running up and down your waist gently. "Would you like to-"

There was a sharp noise like shattering glass. Coriolanus immediately ducked, bringing you down with him to the floor. Gunshots. Thinking only of you and the baby, Coriolanus held your body close to his, arms protectively wrapped around you, his back facing the direction of the sound.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up, and he saw one of the Peacekeepers gesturing to him. "To the safe room, sir. You and your wife."

Coriolanus stood immediately, gathering you in his arms. You wouldn't be able to run in heels. He carried you hurriedly to where the Peacekeeper directed them, where a few more security and several partygoers were hiding away. A chair was produced, and he set you down, checking to see if you were okay.

Smoothing your hair, he reassured you that everything would be okay. The two of you were safe now. You slid a hand over your belly, inhaling nervously. "How long do you think we'll be here? I'm worried about Penny."

He ran a soothing hand down your face, stroking your cheek. "Penny's fine, sweetheart. She's safe back at the house. It'll be okay."

But still you worried, insisting something didn't feel right. Coriolanus did his best to keep you calm, kneeling at your side and holding your hand and reminding you to breathe steady.

It was nearly an hour later that he noticed the Peacekeepers speaking amongst themselves, casting glances back at them occasionally. He perked up when one started to walk over, his face serious.

Coriolanus stood to meet him, not letting go of your hand. "Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Yes," the man started, and Coriolanus felt you stand up beside him, squeezing his hand. "But there's been other news."

"What happened?" you asked softly, and Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, hand slightly over your belly. You touched that hand with your adjacent one, twining your fingers together again.

The man looked grim, and Coriolanus' hold tightened on you. "Sir, your daughter...she's been taken."

You fainted. As soon as the words left his mouth, you crumpled in Coriolanus' arms, and he held on tight, kneeling on the ground and saying your name frantically. He looked up at the bystanders. "Someone get her water!"

Once he heard footsteps hurrying away, he looked back up at the man, face incredulous. "What do you mean, taken?"

He nodded solemnly. "Not fifteen minutes ago. Her caretaker was held at gunpoint, and when she refused to relinquish your child, she was shot. And then they took her. We're trying to figure out where."

"Send every Peacekeeper you can afford," Coriolanus snapped, looking up at the young man. It was funny in a way. He'd once been in that position and now he was giving orders. The thought made his heart soften a bit. "Leave no stone unturned. Find her."

The man saluted and went to tell his comrades. Coriolanus turned his attentions back to you, stroking your cheek and breathing in relief when your eyes fluttered open. He managed a small smile. "Sweetheart...how are you feeling?"

"They took Penny?" you choked, trying to sit up, and he supported you with an arm around your back.

"We're going to find her," he assured, taking the water retrieved by someone nearby and holding it to your lips. "It's going to be okay. She'll be okay."

"You were saying we should bring her...and I said no..." you panicked, your breathing growing unsteady. Coriolanus shook his head, pressing your face to his chest.

"This is not your fault," he whispered into your hair, aware of all eyes on you. "Never. It could never be your fault. They're going to find our daughter. I promise."

You looked up at that. Coriolanus had never made you a promise he couldn't keep, and the certainty in his voice calmed you. He kissed your temple, had you drink more water, and thus began the wait.

It was agony, worrying about his daughter while trying to keep you stable. His mind wandered to the worst possible conclusions, horrible images appearing before his eyes. He waved them off, praying you weren't wondering the same things.

Eventually, the Peacekeepers deemed it safe for everyone to go home. You remained worried, crying softly into Coriolanus' shoulder as he carried you up the stairs into the bedroom. He called for a sleep aid, one of your pregnancy ones, in an attempt for you to get some rest.

The pill kicked in, and he sat beside you, your head in his lap. He idly stroked your hair, anxiety not letting him sleep. The future's possibilities scared him more than anything had before. This is what he fought for. His family, the one thing he wanted to protect more than anything. If he couldn't keep you and your daughter safe, what kind of man was he? What kind of husband? What kind of father?

The phone beside the bed rang, and Coriolanus picked it up instantly as not to disturb you. "What did you find?"

As the person on the other end spoke, his heart beat hopefully. He gave an order in response to the information, and then made a call to send the car to the front. He'd be down in a moment.

Looking down at you, a sense of dread filled him. He didn't want to leave you here, so vulnerable and emotional, especially in your delicate condition. With that in mind, he picked up the phone once more, making a final call.

"...Tigris? You heard the news?" he listened to her for a moment. "Would you come over for a little while? Just until I get back. I don't want to leave her alone...thank you."

Hanging up, he resumed stroking his fingers through your hair, wanting to wake you up and tell you what he was about to do.

But it would only send you into further hysterics. For he'd never told you of that first vow.

Getting out of the car, Coriolanus squinted at the concrete building hidden under the guise of darkness. He looked at the nearby Peacekeeper, who nodded.

Moving swiftly, Coriolanus allowed them to direct him up the stairs, past the freshly murdered bodies splayed bloody across the ground all the way to the top. He barely paid them any mind. The only thing on his mind was Penny.

When he reached the door to the room, there were already several soldiers standing by, guns raised. He could hear noises from the inside, one of which he recognized as his daughter's crying.

The sound spurred him on, and he gave a signaling nod, triggering the head Peacekeeper to kick the door down, a line of his men trailing behind him and shouting things at Penny's captors.

Coriolanus waited a moment before walking in. He surveyed the scene coldly, looking at the men pushed against the wall by the soldiers, held at gunpoint. Then his eyes found Penny. His baby girl.

Messy hair, dusty clothes, scratches on her arms, she was a sorry sight. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks, and his heart broke to see it. He went to her, kneeling in front of the chair where she was tied up and undoing the binds. She sniffled, her chin wobbling. "Daddy...Daddy..."

"Shh, princess." He got the ropes undone, scooping her into his arms and standing up. She leaned her face against his shoulder, one ear against it, and he rubbed her back. Since he was still in his dress shirt from the gala, she mussed his collar with tears, but he couldn't care less. "Daddy's here...Daddy's got you."

Over her shoulder, he gave the head Peacekeeper a look, and then turned back to his daughter. "Close your eyes, Penny. It's going to be very loud for a minute but then we're going to go home."

She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. He steadied one hand over her uncovered ear, and the chaos began.

A dozen fired shots sounded, and Penny winced, but her eyes stayed closed. He dropped a kiss to her hair. She still smelled like the flowery lotion you put on after her baths to keep her skin smooth.

Once the shooting was over, he uncovered her ear, whispering that it was okay, she was safe. She looked up at him with that same sweet smile, despite the fact that she'd been through who knows what. His happy girl.

Then there was another shot. He heard Penny's scream before his brain registered what had happened. It was only when he felt the blood leaking onto his arm that he realized.

Penny was crying, her sobs smashing what was left of his heart. Her arm was bleeding where the bullet had grazed her. The man who'd fired the gun was immediately tackled by a nearby Peacekeeper, who beat him unconscious.

Coriolanus held Penny tight to him, trying to hush her. "Shh, princess, it's okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you. Daddy's got you. Don't worry, baby."

He whispered this to her all the way down the stairs, into the car, and through the ride to the hospital, but she couldn't be calmed. Not that he blamed her-it must have hurt like hell.

It wasn't a problem getting her into a room. The doctors worked quickly, telling him the bullet wasn't lodged in her little arm, that it just needed to be taped up and rested. Still, Penny squirmed when they took bloodwork, cried some more when they stuck an IV in her, and clung to Coriolanus when they came to clean the wound.

He held her through it, ordering the doctors to do everything as gently as possible. She was a three-year-old for heaven's sake.

It was all over soon, not as quickly as he'd have liked, but still. A nurse gave Penny some melatonin, and she was out like a light, sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. He sat beside her, an arm around her sleeping form. Your daughter was safe. That was all that mattered.

Except for one thing.

The door of the car shut behind Coriolanus, and he looked chillingly up at the familiar concrete structure. Once this was all over, he'd have it burned. This place wouldn't taunt his family with its existence any more.

He took his time walking up the stairs. They would have seen that he was here by now, and he wanted to make his captor squirm.

As he casually ascended, his mind dwelled on the events of yesterday. You had come running into the room, still in your beautiful dress from earlier, makeup slightly smudged, but still his stunning wife. Like a magnet you'd been drawn to your baby girl, joining him on the bed and weeping out of pure relief and exhaustion.

Coriolanus had put his arms around both of you, holding his girls tight as you stroked Penny's hair, asking him questions he'd given smooth answers to.

Yes, he'd found her. No, that wasn't his own blood on his shirt. She'd been very scared, but she was going to be okay.

He knew she wouldn't remember most of what happened, thank goodness. The doctor had spoken of memory loss as a trauma response, and he was grateful for it. Not just for Penny's sake, but for yours. You didn't need to know the extent of what had happened that night.

He reached the top floor. Now he was thinking of that sweet, sweet image of you and Penny in his arms, both sleeping against his chest. If he could've commissioned a portrait right then and there he would have.

Penny was safe. Your unborn child was safe. You were safe. And he intended to keep it that way. His status as a husband and father was duly maintained.

There was just one more thing to take care of.

Pausing at the door, he listened for a moment to the groans coming from inside. Pathetic. Deciding he was tired of waiting, Coriolanus pushed the door open, meeting the eyes of the man tied up in the middle of the room, just as his daughter had been twenty-four hours prior.

It was him. The man who'd shot Penny.

The Peacekeeper standing nearby took Coriolanus' suit jacket and handed him his pistol. Rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, he stared the man dead in the eye. "I assume you've had time to think about the offer."

Glaring up at him, the man spat at his feet. "I'd sooner die."

"You will." Coriolanus didn't flinch. "Either you walk out of here with a sense of dignity and disappear or you never walk out of here with a shot through your head."

To his hidden horror, the man's lips twisted in a wry grin. It was disgusting to behold. "Ain't doin' nothin'. I'll get out. And next time it won't just be your daughter. It'll be that bitch you call a wife-"

Coriolanus pulled the trigger before he could finish. He was tired of listening, of being patient. And after insulting his wife, well, he'd signed his own death warrant.

Handing the pistol back to the Peacekeeper, Coriolanus turned his back to the body, putting his suit jacket back on. Maybe on the way home he'd stop and get you flowers. Yes, that'd be just the thing. And something for Penny too. A new book, perhaps, one of the fairy tale ones she loved so much.

Tonight, he'd erase this man's memory from his mind. He'd tuck Penny in and read her new book out loud as she fell asleep. He'd go to you and pamper you and make love to you as slowly and softly as you wanted. And then he'd sleep soundly knowing his promise had been and would continue to be fulfilled.

It was a kick in the face to anyone who'd ever doubted him.

He would kill for you.

[strang3lov3]

A Learning Process

Extra Soft!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your whole life, everyone told you motherhood would come easy. So far, it has not. You struggle to connect with your baby boy, Francis. You struggle to console him, to breastfeed him, everything. Joel has pretty much taken care of your son by himself in the two months since you gave birth. Today is your first day alone with your baby boy, and it ends in disaster. Does Joel also think you’re a failure of a mother? Takes place in Jackson, sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: emotional, emotional breakdown, talks of giving birth, breastfeeding, dirty diapers, taking a bath with Joel, pet names, vulnerable reader, postpartum depression and anxiety, undefined loving relationship with Joel

A/N: Just thought of this story, thought you could all use some sweet soft Joel :)

Edit: forgot to add this is loosely based on this request from @guiltgoreglory !!!

If you like this story, please leave me a comment or reblog telling me what you think!!🩷🩷

Masterlist

It’s a quiet December morning, the sunlight is just beginning to dance and sparkle on the snow outside. You’re in an old rocking chair Maria gifted you, holding your baby boy close to your chest. He’s quiet for once, usually he’s fussy when you hold him. You’re morose, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him into this world, with you as his mother.

His name is Francis. You gave birth to him two months ago in October. 

It was a chilly April day when you realized you were late, not having a period since January. In a panic, you called Joel into your shared bedroom. 

Those two words hit him like a ton of bricks. “I’m late,” you whispered, eyes full of worry and tears. Your words were bitter, tasting like the bile on your tongue. 

“You’re what?” 

“I think I’m pregnant, Joel,”

Joel sat down on the bed with you, his head spinning. He was quiet, too quiet. But not angry like you feared he would be. 

Jackson was a great place to raise a child, but Jackson was still a town on Earth, which for the past twenty-odd years, has been overtaken by a brain-controlling fungus. There was no guarantee that having a baby in Jackson would be 100% risk free. 

“But we’ll take care of it. I want you to come to the doctor with me tomorrow,” you started. “And we’ll deal with–”

“No,” Joel interrupted. He looked at you with his big brown eyes, so sad and worrisome. “I can’t let you do that. Not safe.”

Abortion is what he was referring to. It’s not that Joel felt abortion was wrong in any sense, he was the last person on Earth who had any right to discuss right and wrong. Abortion was risky, even in the safety of Jackson. And he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, or worse. He was right, and you knew it. You didn’t need any convincing. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom, Joel,” you breathed shakily. “I can’t do this.”

He held your hand in his own, so big and calloused from years of backbreaking work. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered. “You didn’t get into this all by yourself.”

It was true. Joel was the one who did this to you, anyway. He was your person, or whatever you could call him. Not really your lover, not officially at least. He was just your guy, your companion in everything. And you slept together. It just was a one time, two time, okay maybe all the time kind of thing. 

Contraception wasn’t easy to come by. If you were lucky enough to come by some condoms, they were most definitely expired and probably useless. You’d be better off with the pull out method, which was never that great of a birth control method. 

You and Joel would often forgo pulling out, getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. You loved each others’ bodies passionately. And well, your bodies did what human bodies tend to do. They created a baby. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Since giving birth to Francis in October, Joel had taken on the role of sole caretaker to your baby boy. It’s not what you had planned, exactly. It’s kind of just how it happened. 

Joel did his best to teach you how to swaddle Francis, but you could never quite get it right. He’d flail his limbs too much and you couldn’t wrap him quick enough. Joel also tried to help you learn to breastfeed, but Francis would never latch to your nipple. 

You and Francis didn’t quite connect, the way most new moms do with their babies. You’d seen women around Jackson with their babies, smiling and singing to them. Their babies looked so happy, so at peace with their mamas. 

And it made you feel so isolated. You could never console him, never. It seemed like he only ever cried in your arms. You and Francis were like oil and water. Sometimes you wondered if you were even his mother. He wanted just about nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Joel. 

Even the pregnancy was difficult. There was no glow to your body, like everyone told you there would be. You felt ugly and swollen, and you were in constant pain. Francis’ favorite activity in utero was to do somersaults, over and over and over, which meant you’d puke your brains out, over and over and over. Joel was patient with you, of course. You were growing his child. Didn’t press you for sex or make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’d just hold your hair back and promise you that everything would be alright, it wouldn’t be like this forever.

Joel, on the other hand, had no problem connecting with his baby boy. Francis and Joel were thick as thieves. Francis was silent in his arms, save for the cute little coos he’d let out while sleeping. Francis didn’t cry when Joel changed his diapers like he did with you. Francis let Joel bottle feed him, but refused to let you. 

It broke your heart. 

And it broke Joel’s too. 

To add insult to injury, your relationship with Joel was dwindling. He was there for you, just distant. And you were distant too. You knew it could happen, lots of couples lose sight of one another after a baby. You just didn’t expect it to feel so lonesome and severe. 

You didn’t play games with Ellie like you used to. Didn’t cook together. Didn’t touch each other. Didn’t even go to bed at the same time, because Joel was always with Francis. You’d go to sleep before Joel, silently weeping at all of your shortcomings as a mother and partner, or whatever you were.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You’ll be alright today,” Joel says sweetly as he dresses himself. He speaks to you in a soft and gentle tone, soothing you. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, still rocking Francis. He looks just like Joel. He’s got big brown eyes, just like his daddy. He’s even got the same dimple as Joel on his right cheek. 

“I know you are,” he says, pulling on and tying his boots. He’s nervous too, if he’s being honest with himself. He knows motherhood has not been easy on you. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself and Francis, he just knows you’re high strung and anxious. “It’s just a couple hours. Tommy put me on the short shift today.” Everyone contributed to patrol in Jackson, and today is Joel’s first day back since the birth of Francis. 

You smile weakly, but wear a brave face. He’s right, it’s just a couple hours. It’ll be fine. Joel kisses your cheek, then bends down to kiss Francis’s soft head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises. 

And then he’s gone. 

The silence is unnatural, almost eerie. You feel your anxiety in your fingertips as you mindlessly twiddle your fingers against Francis’ back. The sun is brighter now, and it’s time to get the day started. 

Here goes nothing.

“Alright, baby. What do you think, eggs and toast for breakfast?” you whisper to Francis. 

Francis just looks at you and coos with his amber eyes, his mouth suckling on his pacifier. He looks so much like his daddy. 

“Sounds yummy to me too,” you reply to his lack of an answer. As you shift in your seat and maneuver Francis so that his head is tucked by your neck and you’re supporting his bum, he begins to whine a little. “It’s okay, my angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you. We’re gonna have a good day today, baby.” 

You bounce him a little, soothing him. He quiets down. You make your way to the staircase, your sweet boy wrapped in your arms. 

The stairs are…daunting. They’re steep, rickety, and old. They’re hard wood, but you were smart and took your socks off to eliminate any possibility of slipping. But still, it’s scary. For a second, you consider sitting and moving down the steps the way a toddler would. But you wave that idea off. Don’t be ridiculous.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You take a step. And then another. Slowly, ever so slowly. Another now. One more. 

You don’t know how it happened. You’re suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, your foot twisted and underneath your body, pinned to the hard stairs. Francis is screaming in your ear, still pressed to your chest. 

You move your foot out from under you with a wince and before even checking to see if it’s broken, and hold Francis in front of you. 

He’s screaming, wailing. His face is fire engine red as he cries. You quickly examine his little body to check for any scrapes or bruises or cuts. Luckily, there are none. 

You do your best to soothe the little boy. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” You tell him over and over that it’s okay, but you don’t know that for sure. Did he hit his head? Did you shake him? 

Francis is inconsolable. You look around you for anything to grab to keep him calm, luckily his pacifier is in reach. You place it in his mouth, he spits it out. You do it again. Nothing. 

You’ve got this. Just breathe. 

“Okay, okay. No paci. That’s fine, baby,”

Francis’ cries never let up. He’ll tire himself out eventually. Right?

With Francis still shrieking in your ear, you check your foot. It’s black and blue, already swelling. You try to sit up a bit, put some pressure on it. The pain shoots through your entire body. You don’t know if it’s twisted, sprained, or broken. 

What you do know is that you’re stuck. You’re alone, with no way to call for help. No way to move from the steps. Joel’s short shift might as well be infinite now. 

A few minutes pass as you just focus on your breathing. 

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you found out you were pregnant. You panicked and hyperventilated as he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you back down to Earth.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you spent hours vomiting into the toilet, Frankie never letting up on his somersaults. He held your hair back, rubbed circles into the tense flesh of your shoulders. 

When you were in your long and arduous labor, screaming in agony and gripping his hand. Breathe. 

Breathe. When you couldn’t soothe your son, and you broke down in tears of frustration. Joel took Francis from you and walked into another room to give you a break from his cries. 

You just breathe. 

Finally, the ear piercing shrieks flying from Francis’ mouth subside after a while. You don’t know how long exactly, maybe an hour. He’s still crying, but it’s a different tone. He’s hungry. 

Might as well give it a shot. You can do this. 

You lift up your shirt, adjusting Francis so he’s flush with your body. You guide his mouth to one of your breasts, encouraging him to wrap his lips around your nipple.

You can tell he’s trying, just can’t quite figure out how to latch. You do your best to help him, maneuvering his little body and your breast to ease his struggle. 

“Come on, Francis. You’ve got this, buddy,” you coo. He seems to be relaxed a little by your voice. He almost latches, but not quite. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

Maybe he’s uncomfortable on this side. You flip him over and offer your other breast. He can’t quite latch there either. 

He’s whining, crying. He’s frustrated, you’re frustrated. He’s hungry, you’re hungry. 

“Please, please, please,” you beg him softly. “You can do this, baby. Just eat for mama.”

He still won't latch, but you don’t stop trying. Not for hours. 

Francis’ hunger pangs have seemed to peter out, now. He’s asleep in your arms, most likely tired himself out from crying so much. You worry if he’ll lose his voice by the end of today. 

Your ass is sore, so is your back and your foot. But you savor the peace and quiet despite the pain in your body. 

You wonder how many hours it's been. You try to tell by the way the shadows on the floor change with the sun, but you can’t make out much. Maybe the shadows have moved, maybe not. You can’t tell. Time doesn’t even feel real at this point. Today is agonizingly long.

You rest your head against the banister, closing your eyes. Joel told you once to take advantage of your sleeping son.

“Get some sleep,” Joel mumbled to you. It was maybe a week after giving birth to Francis and you were peering into his crib with heavy eyelids, afraid that if you slept he’d disappear. “He’ll be fine.” 

“I know, I just,” you struggled to form a sentence. You wanted to make sure your baby boy was alright. You hated leaving him. 

“He’ll be fine,” Joel repeated, his gruff voice firm yet sympathetic. “Go to bed.”

Joel helped you up, your body still so tender after Francis’ delivery. You winced at the ache in your muscles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispered to you. 

You were in a trance, being led to your bed by Joel. It was like your feet weren’t even moving, just floating along and walking on nothing. Joel helped you in bed, adjusted the pillows under your head and pulled a blanket up over your shoulders.

He stepped away from the bed and made his way to the door, turning to give you one last look. Your gaze was still fixed on Francis, unwavering. 

Joel sighed and walked back to the bed, this time his side. The bed creaked with each of his movements. He flipped you over gently so you couldn’t stare at Francis any longer, your head on his chest. 

“Joel,” you protested. “Our baby.”

“Francis is fine,” he mumbled. “You need to sleep. I’ll watch him. Okay, mama? Mom sleeps when baby sleeps. That’s the rule.”

“I can’t sleep, though. I have to watch him,”  Your anxiety wouldn’t leave. Joel felt you fight and struggle against watching Francis. You were so restless. 

“Don’t sleep then,” Joel said. “Just rest your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Just rest my eyes?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give them a break,”

You groaned. “Fine,” you grumbled. You’d give them a five minute break and go back to watching Francis. “Just for a little bit. And then I’m gonna watch him.”

“Alright, honey. You do that. Hush, now. Relax,” Joel commanded you ever so sweetly. “Just close your eyes, mama.”

You did as he said, and he brought his hand to your head, dragging his fingertips through your scalp. His fingers trailed to your neck, then your back. You melted into him, turning into a puddle in his arms. 

Within minutes, you were asleep, snoring quietly. 

Joel knew how to read people, the right words to say to sway them in the direction he wanted them to go. You were no different than anyone else. Now, he wasn't proud of manipulating you into slumber, but he felt it was justified given the circumstances.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to a putrid smell, your ass basically numb underneath you. 

“No, no,” you groan. You adjust Francis, and he begins screaming when you peek into his diaper. The kid does not like being woken up. “Fuck.” you cry. 

It’s a bad one, the mess in his diaper. Francis wails in your ear as you assess the situation. You can’t just leave him in his mess. 

You sigh, taking off your shirt. You set it down next to you on the staircase. 

Francis screams louder when you take off his diaper and set it on the ground. He hates being changed. “I know, bud. This sucks for me too,” you sympathize with him. Then, using your shirt, you wipe him clean as best as you can. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do. 

“Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay,” 

Francis is relentless. He doesn’t let up. You just hold him, his excrement is on your skin and clothes. You’re gagging as your eyes begin to water. 

Your ears are ringing and sore from all the noise. Your back is aching worse than it ever has, worse than when you backpacked across the country with Joel and Ellie. Your arms are full of pins and needles and going numb, you’re afraid you may drop Francis. Your foot is throbbing angrily. 

And then the floodgates fly open. Your tears are spilling, hot and fast. You’re gasping for air, hyperventilating. Francis is shaking with each jolt of your lungs and you try to still yourself, but you’re powerless against your body.

You sob loudly, almost as loud as Francis. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your frustration, pain, loneliness, leaving your body and washing over it again in heaving sobs and cries. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry to Francis. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is thick and wet. 

You try your best to breathe, just like Joel told you. But you can’t. You’re gasping uncontrollably and your nose is full of mucous, blocking you from inhaling and exhaling. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, holding Francis and rocking him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Francis.” 

You repeat it like a mantra. You apologize to your little boy over and over and over again, for hours.

“I’m so sorry, Francis. You deserve better, sweet baby,” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I was thinking we’d do soup for lunch. Nice and warm, what do you think?” Joel’s voice is faint and muffled through the front door. You perk up slightly at the sound of him and Ellie, but you’re too drained to do anything more. 

“Soup sounds good. But I’ll make it. You burnt it last time,” Ellie giggles. Her bubbly voice is music to your tired ears.

“Did not,” Joel says with disdain for Ellies recollection of events. “How do you even burn soup?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who burned it,”

Ellie and Joel giggle as they make their way through the house, then both of their smiles drop at the sight in front of them. 

You’re half naked, covered in feces and your face is puffy with tears. Your foot is black and blue and ugly as you sit and cry, with Francis naked and messy in your arms. 

Joel says nothing, just grabs Francis from your arms and checks him. Then he moves to you, checking your body and your face. 

“Oh my god,” is all he can get out. “Oh my god.”

You just cry. 

“What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s, then Ellie’s. They’re both so concerned. 

So you explain how you fell down the stairs, right after Joel left. You don’t know how it happened. You explain how neither you nor Francis have eaten. “We’ve been here for hours,” you get out between sobs. 

“Oh my god,” 

Joel’s eyes are glassy, his voice is shaky. He passes Francis to Ellie. “Need your help,” he says to Ellie. “Clean him up. Please.” 

She nods, holding out her arms to take Francis. “I’ve got him,” she whispers, before taking him into the kitchen. 

Joel helps you up, you yelp at the pain. Your foot aches, so do the rest of your bones. “I know. I know,” Joel mumbles. His heart is broken into a million pieces, he’s in disbelief that this even happened to you.  

He helps you into his arms, cradling you as he walks you both up the stairs. You hold onto him tightly, the smell of his clothes and his sweat bring you so much comfort and relief. Your person is here, and he’s gonna make it all better. 

Joel takes you into the bathroom and removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them on the floor. You sit on the toilet seat as he removes his clothing. You feel like such a failure of a mother. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, now,” he says softly. 

“I can’t shower, Joel. My foot,” you cry. 

“I know, honey’. I’ve got you,” his voice is so quiet, so gentle. “Just for a minute. Just let me rinse you, that’s all.”

Joel lifts you up slowly, being extra conscious of your foot, then lifts you into the tub. He pulls the leg of your injured foot over his hip and wraps one of his strong arms around your waist as he uses the other to turn on the warm water. 

He removes the showerhead and rinses your body, watching all of the dirt and grime leave your skin. Then he places the showerhead back in its spot and switches the water to come out of the bath spout. 

He maneuvers you in his arms to sit down against him in the bath. Your back is pressed to his chest as the warm water begins to fill the bathtub. All that can be heard is the sound of rushing water and your quiet sobbing. 

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s okay, now. I’m here. You’re safe,”

“Joel,” you cry, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know. I know,” he murmurs. 

He holds you like that as the water fills, your sobs are beginning to die down. Joel leans forward to shut the water off once the tub is full, then grabs a rag and some soap to clean your body. 

Only now does it hit you that this is the first he’s seen you fully since giving birth to his child. You look so different now. You curl up, bringing your knees to your chest. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers as he pushes your knees back down. “I only wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you now.”

He scrubs your body gently, washing away the disaster of a morning you and Francis shared. He can sense your insecurity still. “So beautiful,” he breathes. He’s so delicate with his movements, washing you so tenderly. So full of love and care. “Always been so beautiful, mama.”

You relax into his touch, your head resting on his chest. He’s so warm. So comforting. He feels like home. He tilts your chin up so your eyes can meet his own, so deep and dark. His fingers trace your features, your chin and your lips and your nose. Your eyes well with tears again. 

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” 

“What for, honey?”

“Today. Francis,”

“Hey, now,” he says. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” You shake your head slightly, your bottom lip is wobbling. “I’m such a terrible mom, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s eyes fill with tears, they begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re not a terrible mom,” he hushes you with a broken voice. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

Of course, he knows why you think that. He’s been a little overbearing with Francis, not giving you the opportunity to learn to parent the way he should have. “You’re new to this, honey. That’s all,”

You mumble something under your breath, Joel doesn’t hear. All he hears are your quiet whimpers and sniffles as you stare deep into his eyes. He’s never looked so raw before. 

Some silence passes, and finally he speaks. 

“Sarah was an early walker,” he begins. 

Your brows furrow. Joel rarely talks about Sarah, even now. 

“Once she began wobblin’ on those little legs of hers, I knew she’d be trouble. She’s the reason Tommy and I built a fence,” Joel recounted. “You know why?”

“Why?” you whispered. 

“Well, she was an escape artist,” he says. “I’d be out there, doin’ yardwork or grillin’. She’d be in her sandbox, building little castles and whatnot. I thought she was, at least.” Joel pauses for a second, looking away wistfully. 

Joel continues, smiling now. “Anyway. I’d look back to check on her, and poof. She’s gone. And I’d look across the street, and she’s makin’ friends with the Adlers. Workin’ her charm with them into givin’ her cookies and ice cream. She did it all the time,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Constantly. She did it constantly,” Joel replies. “Girl was trouble. Nothin’ but trouble. So Tommy and I built that fence to keep her from escapin’. ‘Course, didn’t stop Mr. and Mrs. Adler from sneakin’ her treats before dinner.” Joel chuckled at the memory. You did too. 

“She sounds so sweet, Joel,” you say. 

“She was,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s quiet again for a moment, remembering. “I was runnin’ her a bath one night. Right after she learned to walk, you know? And I’m focused on the water, makin’ sure it’s not too hot and not too cold. She’d kick up a fuss if the temperature wasn’t to her liking. Like, exactly. Had to be perfect.”

You smile. Joel is such a wonderful storyteller, you could listen to him talk all day long. 

“Didn’t even notice her leave the bathroom. Thought she was right behind me. I just heard her tumble down the stairs, screamin’ and cryin’. Tommy grabbed her, drove us to the hospital,”

You nod quietly. 

“So they run tests on her, of course. She’s charmin’ the nurse into giving her suckers and toys. She was fine, thank the lord. No bruises, no scratches. Just fine,”

“That sounds so scary, Joel,” “It was. Terrifying. I cried like a baby the whole night thinkin’ I hurt my little girl,” he says. “But you know what the nurse told me?”

“What’s that?”

“She said that babies are rubber. They’re tough. Resilient. Our little boy is resilient too, you know,” 

You look away from him, picking at your fingernails. The guilt is eating you again. 

“You’re new to this, mama. Go easy on yourself, for christsake. You just had him two damn months ago,”

You barely reply, just kind of mumble. You don’t know how to respond. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tilts your chin and to stare into your eyes. He’s deadly serious. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re doin’ fine, mama. Shit happens.”

You still can’t speak. His words help, but it was still a terrible day. Maybe one day you won’t hurt over it. He understands, not forcing you to say anything. 

He just finishes washing your body, then dries you off and wraps you in a towel. He carries you into bed, promising you that he’ll get the town doctor over later to check on your foot. There’s a sandwich waiting for you on your bedside table. Ellie. Such a sweet girl. 

Joel leaves you to clean the mess of your clothes in the bathroom and at the stairs, and you eat your sandwich. You feel so much better getting some food in your system. 

After finishing your sandwich, you hear tapping at the door. “Can we come in? It’s me and Francis,” Ellie says. 

“Yeah, El. Come in,”

Ellie tiptoes in with Francis, his hair is wild and curly. Just like Joel’s. His eyes are big and lost. Ellie looks fatigued. “He didn’t like the bath very much,” she says. “But I did give him a bottle.”

“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,” you reply. “He can be a little cranky. Thanks for feeding him, El. You’re so good with him.”

“Yeah, I can handle him. We’re best friends,” she says. You can see in her face that she’s exhausted, though. “Right, Frankie?”

You smile softly, holding out your arms. Ellie places him in your hold gently, being extra careful to support his head and neck. She can see the worry on your face. You still feel so unsure of holding him, being responsible for him.  

“Guess what?” 

You look up at her. “What?” You bounce Francis softly.  

“I’m gonna teach him how to say fuck. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she giggles, that signature smirk on her face. Her eyes are so playful and bright. “And I’m gonna teach him the other ones too. Bitch, ass, asshole, shit, dick, cun-” 

“Don’t you dare corrupt my son, you little shit,” A deep voice interrupts. It’s Joel, standing at the doorway. “Don’t need two demented kids in this house. You’re more than enough.”

“Hey!” Ellie gasps, feigning offense. Ellie sits down on the bed as Joel walks towards her. “I’ll teach your kid whatever words I want, old man. And I’m not demented,” She punches him in the arm playfully. “You are.”

Joel just rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

You meet his gaze, smiling at him quietly. Francis is asleep in your arms, mumbling and cooing softly. He’s so sweet like this. 

Joel takes Francis from your arms, places him in his crib. Joel looks at Ellie. “Out,” he says. “Mama needs to sleep.”

Ellie gets up to leave, not before giving you a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around the girl, she’s such a good big sister to your baby boy. She doesn’t often hug you, so it’s a welcome surprise. 

Joel meets you on the bed, pulling you close to his body. You rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. “Get some sleep, honey,”

You yawn, melting into his body. “Okay, daddy,”

He feels like home.

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