#but my blood can be given to newborn babies

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 30

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of afterbirth; Breastfeeding; Newborn bodily functions; Scars and allusions to past child abuse.

A/N: Fuck me sideways, I have struggled to write since all this shit in my personal life. This chapter is pretty boring but I guess there are some fluffy aspects. And Thumper gets a name.

The tiny creature that had just been shrieking in Hershel’s grasp, was now rooting around angrily while you studied every perfect little inch of her. Her skin was pink beneath the drying, waxy mess of vernix caseosa—or whatever Hershel had called it—and blood. The old man had said if he had to guess, he would put her at about six pounds. Hilarious since she felt like she weighed thirty while you carried her. 

Her round little face scrunched up before she wailed again, disturbed from her meal-seeking venture by Carol leaning around Daryl to drape a blanket over her. When you looked up to smile at him, you found the archer studying his baby like he wasn’t quite certain about something. 

“What is it?” You asked, moving the blanket a little so he could see her better. 

“S’just—” He reached toward the bundle but withdrew. “Feels like—feels like she ain’t real.” You could see the tears brimming on his waterline, crystal droplets shining beneath the pale yellow illuminance of the van’s interior overhead light; how he would squint instead of blink in an attempt to keep them from falling. 

“Daryl, you—ow.” You placed your hand on your lower abdomen, finding it tight within a cramp even if the skin itself was slightly looser. 

“Ow?” Daryl appeared panicked but was desperately trying to keep himself together. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It was so odd to see him constantly grappling for control over his emotions when he had always—for the time you’d known him—been so careful not to allow too much to show. 

The veterinarian checked the cord to find it no longer pulsing. The contractions you were having now were mild cramps compared to before, Hershel advising you that you would need to give up your hold on Thumper to deliver the afterbirth. The archer watched as you handed off Thumper to Maggie. You wondered if he even realized why you hadn’t given him a chance to hold his daughter yet. Regardless, it was immediately apparent he hadn’t been listening in the slightest—

“Just an easy push, Y/N.”

“Wait! What?!” Daryl shouted. Meanwhile, you were clenching your fists and bearing down. It wasn’t the worst pain but considering you had just pushed a tiny human out of the same opening, you were a tad bit sore.

“Good, good. I can see it. One more push.” 

Daryl’s hand wrapped around one of your fists. You uncurled your fingers and let his slip between them. “See what?! The fuck she pushin’ again for?” The archer gave no time for anyone to answer that particular question before he was crawling and leaning above the space between your knees—just in time for the placenta to exit your body while you groaned through the discomfort. “What the flyin’ blue fuck s’that?!”

“It’s alright, son.” 

“It’s okay, Daryl.” Carol repeated. 

The archer had gone white again, swaying slightly and swallowing convulsively while scooting back toward you on his ass. You tugged gently on his hand before anyone else could interfere. “Hey, tough guy. Look at her.” God, you were exhausted but keeping your partner grounded was your priority. He had a baby to meet. Daryl’s eyes shifted to you and then behind you to the infant over which Maggie was currently gushing.

“She’s perfect.” The elder Greene daughter chuckled through her own tears. 

The hunter stared at Thumper, the color slowly returning to his skin. “Rick!” He belted out suddenly. “We clear?”

“All clear for now.” The former deputy called back, even though there was little more than five feet separating them.

“Good. Stop.” 

“Stop?” Rick glanced back over his shoulder, once and then again. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Stop the van.” This time Daryl barked the command, growing irritated. He gently extricated his hand from yours, moved toward the door, and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It was obvious he was waiting for the vehicle to come to a halt.

“Daryl, what the hell are you doing?” You queried while trying to divide your attention between him and Thumper being placed back against your skin. The baby began to squeak, working up to another bout of shrill cries before you shifted her, trying your hand at offering up a breast without any guidance. When her tiny mouth latched onto your nipple immediately, you felt a tugging sensation, but no pain like you had actually expected. 

“You’re a natural!” Carol exclaimed through her own tears and sniffles. 

Before you could offer comfort while the other woman was obviously distraught—likely reminiscing of the times just after the birth of Sophia—the van jolted to a stop and Daryl was opening the door, jumping out with his bag and crossbow, and closing it before you could say a word. 

“What’s happening?” You sat up just a little, your eyes wide. “Where’s he going? Rick?”

“Stay still. Relax.” Maggie cooed, dragging a finger tenderly down Thumper’s cheek. “Let her nurse. I’m sure Daryl’s got his reasons.” You nodded even though you weren’t truly satisfied with the answer. You were just simply too exhausted to think about it any further. Carol started handing Maggie blankets to roll up behind you. “We’re gonna getcha all cleaned up and as comfortable as we can until we can find somewhere safer, okay?”

“Just wrap this up until Daryl gets back.” Hershel spoke softly, placing a bloody blob of something onto a large piece of cloth before handing it to Carol. The sac was connected to Thumper by the slimy cord. 

“Do you think he’ll want to?” The other woman whispered. Sight and sound were starting to fizzle out. Your body was demanding rest, all reserves depleted. Thumper was suckling away, making the sweetest little snorting breaths between gulps. Maggie was wiping the sweat from your face and neck, sweeping the fabric back and forth over every inch of skin she could reach.

Hershel and Carol worked together to clean up the mess between your legs, the area swollen and sore and thank god you were so exhausted or that would have really hurt. When you opened your eyes again, you were covered with a blanket and Thumper was gone from your chest. 

“Thumps?!” You bolted upright, caught halfway by Hershel’s gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“She’s fine. You were quite out of it when she finished. Maggie tried to burp her but breastfed newborns don’t always need it. Now she’s there with Carol, getting cleaned up the best we can without warm water. The vernix caseosa can stay on her skin until she can have a good warm bath. It won’t do any harm. We just thought she could do without the other fluids.”

You nodded tiredly. “How long did I sleep?”

“Only about half an hour.” Carol answered, shuffling on her knees with the baby in her arms. “Rick grabbed the diapers from the truck and checked on everyone. She’s such a tiny thing, the newborn size almost swallows her.” She pulled the blanket away to place the baby against your skin and then covered her again with the small receiving blanket. Once Thumper settled, Carol pulled the thicker blanket over both of you. 

You felt your expression light up—casting shadows over your exhaustion—at the sight of that little face. God, she was tiny. The lack of blood revealed wisps of blonde hair, still molded flat in some places by the waxy covering. You could already see so much of Daryl in her that it—

“Where’s Daryl?”

As if summoned by his name on your lips, the van door opened to reveal the archer, clearly shivering. He tossed his bag and crossbow to the side and climbed in, rubbing his hands up and down his sleeved arms. He was clean, his hair wet while the strands appeared damn near frozen. His dirty clothing—vest and poncho included—was missing, likely in his pack. 

“Daryl Dixon, are you trying to end up with pneumonia again?!” Carol admonished. She shoved his bag out of the way quickly and tossed the last larger blanket around his shoulders. 

“C-c-couldn’a held ‘er like I w-w-was, right?” His teeth legitimately chattered, his gaze leaving Carol to look you over. “D-doin’ alright?”

You narrowed your eyes above the ghost of a smile. “Did you really go find a body of water to take a bath in the middle of winter?” 

“W-wouldn’a left ya but w-was d-d-dirty. Wanted t-to—wanna hold ‘er.” Once again, he was pale as milk but there was some color slowly seeping into his cheeks. Hershel wasn’t freaking out over his current state, so—contrary to the pressure threatening to choke you from the inside—you wouldn’t either. Daryl ran his tongue over colorless lips and ducked his head.  “If that’s alr-right?” 

Your mouth fell open, your brow furrowing while you blinked at him. Did he just— “Daryl, she’s your daughter. Of course you can hold her.” You were already moving an arm from beneath Thumper’s miniscule weight. When your hand found his, you pulled back with a hiss. “Maybe just get a little warmer first though, okay?” The archer nodded, but he still looked so uncertain. 

Hershel cleared his throat. He had remained still and silent throughout the exchange but then slowly crept down to sit on his knees at your hip. “In the meantime.” With a gesture toward Carol, he held out his hands. The cloth-clad placenta was placed onto his palms. It had apparently just been traveling around with Thumper wherever she roamed within the van. “Would you like to cut the cord, son?”

Still shivering but teeth no longer clicking together, Daryl’s expression molded into equal parts disgust and confusion. “The hell would I wanna do that?”

“It’s a tradition.” The old man explained. Carol was busy cleaning her knife with some rubbing alcohol. “It marks the start of life outside of the mother, when the father can begin to be physically involved in caring for the baby.”

The hunter brought his left thumb to his mouth, chewing on the side, granting a physical form to his inner anxiety. “Don’t it hurt ‘er?” You were curious as well, and you looked away from your partner to await the answer. 

“There are no nerves in the cord. She won’t feel a thing.”

Daryl drew back when Carol presented him with the knife. He looked to you. You shrugged a shoulder, careful not to jar Thumper. “It’s your decision.”

“Must be done. It doesn’t matter if it’s you or myself.” Hershel added. 

Lowering his hand from his teeth, Daryl eyed the knife. It was clear that he didn’t believe he wasn’t going to hurt his daughter. His thumb was replaced by his lower lip, jaw inching back and forth to gnaw at it earnestly. Without a word, he reached for the knife. Carol offered him a smile that he unsurprisingly didn’t return. 

“Where do—how does it—”

“I’ll help you.” The veterinarian reassured, balancing the organ on top of one hand while the other lifted the cord. “Right between the tape.” 

“Don’t that leave some’a it?” Daryl’s throat was visibly working as he swallowed. 

“That will dry up and fall off. I’ll show you both how to care for it until that happens.” 

The exhale was audible, undoubtedly something he didn’t intend but also didn’t take notice. Daryl’s hand was shaking, the blade carefully pressed to slice upward and away from the skin of your newborn. You held your breath, afraid any movement or sound would cause her to stir. If Daryl accidentally nicked her, there’d be no consoling him.

The cut was clean and quick, Thumper remaining sound asleep throughout. Your head tipped back against your pillow of blankets, relief flooding through you in a tingling wave that left you once again feeling wrung out. Half an hour was not enough. You wanted to sleep for days. 

Turning your head was a chore, but worth it. Daryl was ignoring everything that was happening below the two of you, his eyes dancing between you and his daughter. “I know.” You whispered. His gaze found yours. “She’s finally here.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted with words he couldn’t seem to articulate. “It’s a lot, Daryl. I know. It’s okay.” 

He was trembling, but you were certain it was no longer from the cold. His entire world had just changed. He was a father, and—judging by the look on his face, the turmoil in his pretty eyes—he was terrified. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” Your question was met with a sharp inhale, his spine straightening. 

“I—” 

You were already shifting the baby, shushing and cooing when she squeaked and stretched in protest. 

“You should bond with her too, Daryl.” Carol was sitting against the interior wall, looking her own personal sort of tired. “If you feel comfortable, um—” She turned her head to look away entirely, staring at the opposite wall. “You should let her lay against your skin.”

Bless him, he looked as though he might hyperventilate. “What if—she might—don’t wanna scare ‘er.” Daryl stared at Thumper, her little head moving back and forth as you offered her to him. You wouldn’t tell him the baby was too little to be scared. That would only leave him wondering if she’d be afraid of him later, when she was older. He was so convinced that his scars would make his daughter fear him. 

That anger you had felt before, the inferno of rage that had boiled beneath your ribs—it was back. Had they been still alive, you would strangle those people that had hurt him, scarred him so deeply. Beyond physical. But they were dead. And you were there. You would do your damnedest to show him a different perspective. That he was good and not a product of his father’s anger or his mother’s absence. That he was loved. 

“She isn’t afraid and she won’t be, not of you.” You vowed, pulling Thumper in against your own chest once more. With a hand then free, you raised the blanket and slid over with a grunt. The pain wasn’t horrible but you were definitely sore. “Get under here with me first.”

Maybe one day, he would be beyond the urge to hide that part of himself. Until then, however, you were more than content to help him find any measure of comfort you could offer. 

Daryl hesitated, giving you a quick once over. “Won’t hurtcha?” 

You smiled, small and tired but genuine. “No. Now get under here. Don’t make me drag you while holding a newborn. You know I can do it.” You challenged playfully. Maybe you could lighten the atmosphere. With a pfft, he took the blanket from your hand and shed the one around his shoulders, his eyes darting over to Hershel and Carol. They had knowingly turned their backs. You almost wished they would leave but having someone knowledgeable there was a comfort you weren’t ready to be without. You had no idea what you were doing. Once he was settled, you did your best to pull up the blanket until he took over. “Unbutton your shirt?”

“Dunno if—”

“She already loves you, Daryl. You were the one to calm her down when she was river dancing on my intestines. Just—try?” He sighed, his fingers slowly working open the buttons before stalling. “If you’re too uncomfortable with it, we’ll fix it, okay? I’ll take her and then you can put her on top of your shirt.”

The deep breath he took trembled but he continued until he could part his shirt enough for his chest to be visible. Even with only your eyes on him, he began to exhibit obvious anxiety. 

“It’s only me.” You whispered while maneuvering Thumper. He could actually hold her later, when there weren’t four of you cramped up in the back of an old van with stow-and-go seats. 

The man looked like he was two seconds from sliding out from beneath the blanket and bolting—until the moment the baby’s skin finally touched his own. His wide eyes drained of any trace of fear to make room for awe. 

“Holy fuck.” 

Watching him closely, those two words were meant to be part of the internal monologue he had going on inside his head. His calloused hands had never looked so gentle, laying across Thumper’s back. He immediately lifted one and placed the other there instead with the previous palm resting on her little diapered bottom.

“She s’posed to be this small?” His voice cracked. You turned onto your side, slowly and stiffly, while he silently let his gaze wander over to watch you move. Wiggling to find a comfortable position, you settled with your head on his shoulder and your fingertips brushing repeatedly over Thumper’s head.

“Hershel said she probably weighs around six pounds.” 

“S’that okay?” His thumb was swiping back and forth through the slightly darker blonde hair on the back of the baby’s head. 

“She’s perfect.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed, quietly. His head was tilted, angled to be able to see the little face of the human he helped create. “I, uh—thank you.” You lifted your head to stare him down, quiet yet questioning. “Y’know—for her.”

Your expression softened. Your hand lifted from Thumper to Daryl’s chin, guiding his head to turn. Stifling the grunt of discomfort that moving caused, you shimmied up just enough to press your lips to his. It was chaste but no less passionate. 

“None of that for at least six weeks. Minimum.” Hershel chided from the back of the van. 

Daryl huffed in annoyance, only slightly turning away to bark out “the hell’s ‘er mouth got to do with anythin’?” You laughed in spite of yourself, the action jarring and uncomfortable. 

Hershel even chuckled. “I mean no further, son. No intercourse. She needs to heal.” 

Damnit. You knew at that very moment, it would take you twelve weeks to coerce Daryl into actual sex. God, if your vagina wasn’t ruined after pushing out a whole human. Oh well, you’d be fine as long as he was still yours. You blinked, eyes glazed and thoughts wandering. He would still want you, right?

“Gotta make things weird, old man? Christ.”

Shaking your head, you pushed those worries aside for later. He was now warm and you had your personal space heater back. You molded yourself to his side and willed your body to relax. Daryl was there. Your little family was safe. Sleep laid its claim on you within moments. 

“Claire?” You suggested. Your hand alternated between rubbing and patting the back of the frustrated infant on your shoulder, coaxing out a burp that vibrated your collarbone. Don’t always need it, indeed. While Daryl sat across from you on the bed, rubbing the length of his left index finger across his lips, you adjusted Thumper to the opposite breast. Her little fists were flailing, her face scrunched up and red. The little squeaks and grunts were aplenty as she worked herself up to a squalling cry. “Ssh, here, Thumps.” The moment your nipple rubbed against her cheek, the baby rooted for it eagerly, latching on and suckling with gusto. 

“When she scrunches ‘er face like that, she looks like Merle.” Daryl snorted. His expression didn’t show it but his eyes held a distinct shimmer of sadness. 

“Wanna name her Merle? Merlene? Marleen?” You almost cackled at the look he pulled. “Okay, okay. I said Claire, grumpy gills.”

“Nah.” He sniffed and briefly glanced toward the window. You could hear the van and truck rolling in, hopefully with more supplies. “Makes me think’a that ear piercin’ place in all the malls.”

You thought about people that you had lost. Maybe you could honor them this way. “Andrea?” Daryl snorted. 

“She gonna shoot me when she gets older?” He took a deep breath and balanced his chin on his right palm, elbow pressed into his thigh. “Don’t really feel like she should be a Andrea.”

“Patricia?” You pressed on, stroking Thumper’s cheek with a fingertip. “We could call her Patty?”

“No.”

Your aunt maybe. “My aunt’s name was—actually, no. Nevermind.” This time, it was you that snorted. Daryl shook his head before he turned it back to the window. Thumper had released your nipple, even as her little mouth continued to try and suckle. “Can you burp her while I get all—” you gestured broadly toward your entire self. 

“Sure.” He slid off the mattress and leaned down to take his daughter, so carefully maneuvering her against the front of his shoulder. You kept your sights on him as he moved toward the window, offering the baby a little sunlight. 

You and Daryl slept in the van until the current safe house had been found. No one even woke the archer to help clear it. Probably because Thumps was still lying on his chest. Carol had been the one to wake the two of you, sending you into the bedroom while she heated as much water as she could for you to properly clean up and then to give the baby a warm bath.  Daryl held your daughter while you wiped her down. There was a fire burning in the living room and though you could feel the house slowly warming, neither of you wanted to take any risks. You removed the little knit hat from her head and took care in wiping away the remaining film over her skin. Patting her dry, you replaced the hat and moved on. Each area was bared, cleaned, and covered. You couldn’t help but smile when the archer looked away while you removed the diaper. You made it all the way to her feet before she woke up properly and started trying to suckle Daryl’s thumb.  “Barkin’ up the wrong tree, lil’ one. Gonna hafta talk to your mama if you’re hungry.”

And now here you were, tucking away your tits into a nursing bra while your partner rubbed the back of your perfect daughter by a sunlit window. Thumper was in a light blue sleeper onesie and wrapped in a pink blanket— littered with little birds—to make sure she stayed warm. 

You didn’t hear her burp but had no doubt that she did if he was taking her from his shoulder to the crook of his right arm. From your vantage point you couldn’t see much but you could tell Daryl was talking to her. 

While daddy and daughter were occupied, you laid back on the bed and stretched tired muscles. Your abdomen was still swollen but soft. It was your lady bits that were hot and sore. Forget taking a piss. You had nearly screeched when Daryl had accompanied you earlier, leaving Thumper with Carol. You were bleeding but thank god, Carol had warned you and handed you a couple of pads before you headed out the door. You hadn’t thought anything of it until you were standing over where you had urinated and it looked like a murder scene. 

“Jesus, it’s Nightmare on Elm St in my underwear.” You said as you rounded the tree. Daryl looked unamused.  “Ya gotta be so—graphic? Good lord.”

“Need to hunt soon.” Daryl spoke suddenly from the window. You sat back up with a wince just as he made his way back to you. 

“We have a lot of canned stuff. You don’t need to—”

“Doc said ya need protein to keep makin’ milk for her.” 

You didn’t want him to go anywhere. Logically, you knew it made sense. He was the only other hunter besides yourself. Canned veggies wouldn’t do much towards milk production and of course Daryl had asked about it already. Hershel had been pleased that Thumper was appearing satisfied with the colostrum you were producing, but she would need more even within just the next few days. 

“When?” You tracked him as he lowered to the edge of the mattress just in front of you. The baby’s little hand was curled around his middle finger and you weren’t sure he cared about anything else enough to divert his attention away from his newborn. “Daryl.” You chuckled. 

“Yeah?” He still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Purple because aliens don’t wear hats.” 

“Mhm.” Had he ever been this distracted? You called his name again amidst a laugh, each syllable bouncing. Finally, he looked up. Straight ahead first, as if forgetting where you were sitting. Then it was over to you. “You say somethin’?” 

“Welcome back.”

He mocked a laugh and then deadpanned. “Funny girl.”

Your smile remained steadfast. “When are you going out to hunt?” 

“Thought I’d leave in the mornin’. Y’know, stick ‘round to help ya tonight an’ make sure ya both’re all good ‘fore I go. Try to bring back all I can so that—” His mouth was still open, but the words stopped altogether. His brow drew inward. “Think this diaper’s toast.”

Oh god. 

The first diaper change.  

“Should I get Carol?” You asked in earnest. You had never changed a diaper before and Daryl had never indicated he had any experience either. Still, he shook his head. 

“Gotta learn sometime, right? Between the two’a us, how hard can it be?”

The answer: really fucking hard. 

“Daryl, you have to look!” 

“Don’t feel right to see ‘er—areas.”

“You’re her father and you’re trying to change her. It’s fine. You’re gonna get it all over your hands if you don’t look.”

“S’it s’posed to be that color?” 

“How the hell should I know? Can you hand me the wipes?” 

“What wipes?”

“You didn’t grab the wipes?”

“No?” 

“Was that a question?” 

“No?”

“Daryl.”

“Y/N.”

“Get the wipes.”

Twenty minutes later, Thumper was snoozing comfortably on the mattress, wrapped snugly in her blanket without a care in the world. You and Daryl, however, were staring at the small creature, appearing every bit as though you were trapped in the flashbacks of war. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to take that long.” You finally commented. 

“Walker guts don’t even look like that.” Daryl’s voice was just as quiet and monotonous as your own. 

“It didn’t even smell. Shouldn’t it smell bad?”

“You’re complainin’?” 

“Touché.”

When Carol knocked, your heads moved in unison, two sets of wide, troubled eyes landing on the woman in the doorway. Her eyebrows shot upward, lowering slowly as she took in the scene: you and Daryl cross-legged on the mattress. Thumper just a few inches away. Wipes and a rolled up diaper on the floor below the foot of the bed. Her hand flew to her mouth, pressing against it to smother the chuckle that tried so hard to break free. 

“You two okay?” She finally asked, clearing her throat. 

“We look okay?” Daryl rasped. 

She struggled against laughter again. “You look like two first time parents discovering one of the joys of a newborn.” 

“We need help.” You were practically pleading, feeling horrible to ask it of the woman who had lost her only child. Daryl’s expression was just as desperate even if he would never grant it a voice. 

“Okay, let’s go over the basics.” Carol shook her head fondly and closed the door behind her. 

Several feedings and diaper changes later, Thumper was asleep between you and Daryl. Night had stolen the sun and a candle burned on the bedside table behind you. She was so far a quiet baby, only crying when she was hungry and would squeak and grunt when her diaper was soiled. 

“Expressing herself in grunts and other noncommittal sounds. She’s totally your kid.” You teased.  “Shuddup.”

Daryl’s hand was on the baby’s stomach, likely just as much for his benefit as hers. He was dozing, making a valiant effort to stay awake with little success. You were just as tired but you couldn’t seem to coerce your eyes away from your partner and daughter. Daryl had been so attentive and tender with you while you carried Thumper but seeing him physically interact with her was an entirely different experience. 

Once again, it was likely something he would internalize but he was absolutely in love. That little thing lying between the two of you had already stolen his whole heart. If you had any doubt of his desire and ability to be her dad,—which you didn’t—that would be long gone now. 

When you weren’t nursing her, she was with Daryl. He talked to her in hushed whispers like sharing secrets he’d never speak to another living soul. And she slept or stared at him while he stared right back. She had the bluest of eyes but Carol said they might not remain that way. 

You hoped they did. 

When she looked at you, you could feel her curiosity and adoration. You were her mother and she knew. She knew your voice, your touch. She knew Daryl. Carol said Thumper could only see in shapes and shades of gray, but you didn’t believe that. Not for a second. They way she would stare at Daryl, her little fingers squeezing the edge of her pink bird blanket. No, you didn’t believe that. 

“Think I gotta name for ‘er.” Daryl spoke suddenly, words rough off his tongue, laced with exhaustion. You smiled. 

“Oh yeah?” You wondered if he was even awake or aware of what he was saying. His eyelids were heavy, flickering open every few seconds. 

“Yeah. S’okay if ya don’t like it. Don’t really make no sense.”

You laughed within a breath, reaching to brush the hair off his forehead. When he didn’t speak for a moment, you found yourself too curious to let it go. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, with an mhm during the exhale. His index finger was gently rubbing back and forth over Thumper’s little hand while she had it fisted into her blanket. 

You almost moved your hand to his shoulder to shake him awake, but refrained. He was—like you—exhausted, and within that state, he was emotionally vulnerable. You almost felt as if you were taking advantage of that, but there was a realization that you wanted him to name her. So, you would wait. Let him sleep or listen when he was ready to tell you. 

“Birdie.” He finally breathed. Without opening his eyes, he moved his finger to tap one of the birds on the blanket. “Birdie Jade.”

You felt the wet tickle of a tear running across the bridge of your nose and wiped it away before it could sting your other eye. Sniffling, you ran your fingers through the hair above Daryl’s ear. His eyes finally opened, clear and sharp, watching, waiting for your reaction. 

You pulled back your hand and laid it on top of his, over the baby’s blanket. 

“Hi, Birdie.”

[aklaustaleteller]

Hi sweetie! Hope you're doing well. Could you write a Klaus Mikaelson x reader (the reader is Hope's bio mom, so the whole Dahlia betrayal didn't happen and no one was turned into a wolf) where it's set in season 3, the reader and Klaus are married and happy until Aurora comes along, and with her jealousy she makes y/n believe she and Klaus slept together (they didn't) so they have a big fight where Klaus didn't deny he slept with her (cause he was hurt she didn't trust him and stuff) causing them to split out. They only saw each other because of Hope, and they were verbally hostile towards each other (not much, just petty arguments) and after a while he kills Aurora bcs she threatened yn (or something similar) and they go back together and it's all fluff.

Have a great day!

Said Yes To Heaven

Y/n and Klaus are in love, happy and overwhelmed, especially since having welcomed their newborn baby only weeks ago. But what happens when an unwanted guest appears on their doorstep out of the blue, and suddenly Y/n isn't sure if she's just going crazy or there truly has been some infidelity?

Warnings - Mentions of pregnancy, blood, thoughts + scenes of trying to unalive someone else, and some light after-birth changes/affects our reader is going through. Word Count - 4.6k

So, long time no see, everyone? Hahah, it's surreal to me how you have stuck around, but I'm very glad at the same time :) Thank you for sending in this request, anon, and I'm sorry for taking so long! This is part 1/2 and this mainly has fluff, as I wanted to show you the happiness and all about this family before I tore it down in the next part (just so it'd hurt a little better, yanno?) Anyways, I'm a little rusty but I hope you'll enjoy this one even a little and I'll let you go now! Have fun reading <3

UPDATE: You can now read part two here!

Klaus took a few steps back from his doorstep, looking rather unpleasant to see his guest for the day. Because of course, out of the very blue, his ex-lover had been reminded of him. On the very day he had woken up to a crying baby and a cranky wife who was high on hormones after just having given birth.

Some days, he just couldn't get it right. But today was going to be the hardest of it all and he was not ready to face the music.

"Aurora," Y/n spoke from somewhere behind Klaus, her voice carrying a threatening echo. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" She was approaching the door slowly, her eyes and tone an exact contrast to the welcoming words falling out of her mouth like sweet honey.

Klaus' shoulders relaxed when Y/n brushed against him while she moved past to stand in front of him, making him lean against the doorframe.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Aurora spoke, her voice like a little girl’s – sweet and gentle. But Klaus saw straight through it as well as the tick in his wife's jaw. "Heard that you gave birth to a baby g --"

Before Aurora could've finished, Y/n had her pinned to the doorframe opposite to the one Klaus was leaning against.

"Don't you even dare speak of my family," Y/n snarled, her fingers digging into the woman's throat as everything in her told her to rip it out. But before she could've, Klaus' lulling voice began slipping into her ears.

"Now, love," He said softly, grabbing a hold of her shoulders and bringing her back into him, knowing fully well that this wasn't something she truly wanted to do. Then, tucking her lone hair strand back into her braid, he cupped her cheeks – "Why taint the porch with her blood, hm?"

"Because I'd rather see her dead than listen to that filth for another second," she smiled sweetly, her anger evident in the grit of her teeth.

And she'd just begun turning to take a look at an embarrassingly flushed Aurora, when a cry tore through the silent household. For a small second, both Klaus and Y/n shut their eyes, taking a deep breath simultaneously before Y/n was walking back into the house.

"Take a nap with her, why don't you?" Klaus proposed, his back facing the unwanted guest. "I'll take care of this and join you two in a bit," he nodded, passing the exhausted mother of his little girl a sweet smile, encouraging her.

Then he turned back around, almost shutting the door behind him to keep whatever noise was to come at bay.

"What do you think you're doing here, Aurora?"

"I just wanted to see you, Niklaus," she muttered softly, taking a step closer to him. "I miss you," she confessed, reaching to place her hands on his chest.

He backed away just in time, releasing a sharp breath. "I didn't suspect you to be so idiotic and careless with your life," he said sharply.

"Only for you, Klaus." She was looking up at him with a million emotions swirling in her eyes. But Klaus knew better than to not notice malice being one of them.

"Whatever you're planning to do, drop it," he gritted through his teeth. "And stay far, far away, from my family," he warned her as he walked her off their porch and out of their house’ perimeter, tempting the woman in front of him to backtrack.

"Don't test me against this Aurora,” he started, his hands placed behind his back but his frame remained all the more intimidating.

“I will kill you if you even bat an eye in the direction of this house," he was almost beginning to shake now, trying his best to keep his anger at bay and not cause any destruction out here while his little family rested inside the house not too far away.

Leaving her standing, Klaus turned to get back in the house when Aurora called out his name.

"You love me, though! You know you love me," she shouted at him, and Klaus' eyes glowed golden, knowing exactly what she was trying to do here.

And the moment she saw his eyes, she stumbled a little.

"I know you love me, do you not?" She managed to croak out just before Klaus had his hand wrapped around her throat, enhancing the bruising his wife had marked earlier.

"This is your final warning," he growled in her ear before slamming her against the wall behind her, walking away and trying to lose his temper at the same time as he entered the house and shut the door behind him, wincing when a baby's wails followed the noise.

—

As the next morning rolled around, so did the first official day of Summer.

With Hope's little frame already covered in fresh grass, Y/n couldn't foresee the day getting any better. A loud laugh escaped her when Klaus pretended for it to have been hard work getting a hold of the very frantic Hope, who was as happy to see the sun as Y/n was.

"Look who's gotten herself all dirty," Y/n pouted, dusting off as much dirt as she could off of Hope's onesie, while Klaus softly wiped her face.

"Just learned to crawl and of course she's abusing the skill," Klaus murmured, only making his wife laugh again.

Y/n kept Hope caged in her lap with one arm, leaning back on the other one to soak in the sun. She exhaled a deep breath, before turning to look at Klaus, who was already smiling at her.

"You've been such a good father, have I told you that?"

He laughed at that, looking down to hide the blush creeping up his neck, and nodding with his eyes still set on the little ducklings printed on the blanket they were sitting on.

"You have," he began softly. "Many times, actually," huffing out a laugh, he looked up again, now catching Hope's big wondrous eyes as well.

"Good."

With a light groan, Klaus moved to lay beside her. "Hope couldn't have a better mum, though."

"Wouldn't want her to have another mum anyways," she laughed, leaning in just a bit to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth that was curled in a grin.

And as the beautiful day passed them by, with Hope's full cheeks turned red due to the amount of fun she'd had, and Y/n's heart swollen with all the love she couldn't muster up properly at all, no matter how hard she tried – and Klaus knew that he could give it his all and still be unable to put this keen feeling rushing under his skin upon a canvas.

They'd truly said yes to heaven, when they'd said yes to each other on that one day in particular.

So, once they had shuffled back inside their house due to the chilliness increasing, Klaus made his way straight to the kitchen to heat up the leftovers while Y/n changed Hope’s clothes upstairs, in their bedroom. It didn't take long for the tired little girl to slip into sleep's arms and for her head to lull to the side, while Y/n was rocking her back and forth. So she stacked pillows around Hope’s body and went back down to Klaus, reaching just in time when a there was a knock on the door.

Now, with whatever Y/n had been expecting to come across, Aurora Martel at her door once again, was not it.

As she stood still on her ground, looking into the very woman's eyes who was not even supposed to be here anymore, her eyes began to fade to black only for the golden rim of a Hybrid to come through -- to caution the vampire standing in front of her before she attacked.

Because while Y/n hadn’t mentioned it to Klaus, she had heard her fake little love confession to Klaus yesterday and thought about the multiple ways she could unalive Aurora. 

But she decided against putting in such effort and put her body through another wave of pain for the day. She was going to go about his normally, after all, she was the mother of the very man's child that this woman had clearly come after. And his wife, as well.

"Aurora De Martel, the hopeless-romantic human, who only grew more daring once turned into a vampire, at my doorstep all over again," Y/n began, walking to complete a circle around the woman.

"Not an ounce of stupidity was shred in the process-- you know, of your turning; I suppose, since you're clearly still in possession of it," Y/n continued. 

Once she was in front of Aurora again, she took a step closer, the gaze of a predator still present in her eyes.

"Cat got your tongue darling?" She spoke, tilting her head to the side. "Where's that feisty little Vampire that I remember, hm?"

"I'm not that person anymore," Aurora began, struggling once Y/n had her in a choke hold again.

"No need to be a stinking liar, Aurora." Y/n gritted, dropping the choking one on the ground. "I can smell your intentions from miles away."

Y/n didn't tend to be such a threatening and volatile person, that was the reason that she'd fit so well with Klaus. And yet, she wasn't quite sure as to why she'd brought up this side of hers. She knew she wasn’t afraid or insecure that Aurora might get to Klaus; not at all.

But what she did know was that Klaus’ lovers popping back up only made her heart thud because of the potential danger they put Hope in.

She scoffed when Aurora scrambled to her feet, hands around her neck as she swallowed thickly.

“How are you, Y/n?” She croaked out, looking ahead of her despite the fact that Y/n was right by her side, now making another round around her. 

“Hm, concerned, I’d say,” Y/n hummed. “For you, of course.”

Maybe the pregnancy had changed more about her than she’d originally thought. Or maybe, and hopefully, Y/n thought, it was just the hormones. 

“How’s Klaus?” Aurora asked, mustering up the courage to turn and look Y/n in the eyes. “I supposed he’d be here,” she shrugged, "with you." The venom in her voice could be well detected, especially when she mentioned Y/n. And while her guards were high up, prepared for the hybrid to rip her to shreds -- she still held the fake confidence that that won't happen. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? I’m sure he’d love to have a chat,” Y/n smiled at her before she walked into the house, towards the room she knew Klaus was putting away Hope’s stray toys in – but not before passing Aurora a cautioning glare, warning her against doing something stupid in her absence. 

“Klaus?” She asked softly, entering the dark room, her eyes already following his figure as he put away the box of toys.

“We have a guest, I hear?” Klaus asked, walking up to her with a lazy smile. One of his arms snuck around her waist to pull her into him to press a kiss on her mouth. 

“No actually – we have a doting lover on our door,” Y/n chuckled. “She’s eager to see you again,” she shrugged, quickly going back to press a kiss on Hope’s forehead before grabbing a very confused Klaus’ hand, leading him outside. 

“Aurora,” he realised in annoyance, a deep frown in between his brows as he caught her sight from the top of the stairs. His mind was racing through a million things, the loudest question in there was, what in the hell was she doing here again? Didn't he warn her just yesterday?

“Isn’t it a pleasant surprise?” Y/n smiled brightly, coming to a halt herself. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, ignoring Klaus’ pleading look with an inner laugh as she turned away, most likely to arrange the dishes for their awaiting and heated dinner.

"Just make sure she doesn't ever dare to lose her way and end up here, again," she said, looking straight into Aurora's eyes before crossing over to the kitchen. 

And from the corner of her eye, she saw Klaus shut the door behind him. So, trusting him against making a mess, she quickly cleaned up the kitchen before she was making her way upstairs to Hope’s room, to now feed her some formula and put her to sleep for the night. 

"Are you in there, little wolf?" Y/n spoke from just outside the door, a silly grin on her face as she waited for the same reply she got everyday.

A random babbling noise that showed that Hope was indeed hungry. 

Despite Hope's loud squeak and the sounds of her rolling around in her crib, Y/n walked into the room with the same look on her face – the pretended to have caught her daughter, awake, red handed.

"Hope! You don't wake up once I put you to sleep!" She gasped, swallowing a laugh and reaching with one hand to pick up the little girl, bringing her to sit on her lap while she backed to sit on the rocking chair.

With loud giggles, Hope hit her chest a couple times, grinning up at her while drool began pooling on the boundary of her mouth.

"Uh ah!" Y/n laughed, closing the baby's mouth and watching as she squealed again, this time her palm landing flat on Y/n’s cheek.

Risking a mess by placing the small bowl on her thigh, Y/n held Hope up with her back against her chest and lifted a spoonful.

"Yes!" She cheered when Hope took in the bite without closing her mouth halfway and spilling the rest down her chin.

Slowly and steadily, she let the girl swallow her meal before making her burp.

"Did I get you sleepy, little wolf?" Y/n giggled watching Hope's eyes droop.

"You're so sleepy all the time!" She pouted. "Never got the time on your hands to play with your mummy," chuckling and shaking her head, she got off the chair and walked over to the crib placed near Klaus’ side of the bed upon his insistence, putting the already asleep girl inside.

Lowering with her, Y/n pressed a chaste kiss on her full cheeks that now hung low. Silently, she walked over and peeked out of the door to see if the matter down the stairs had been sorted out.

But she didn't catch sight of either Klaus or Aurora. So, with a sharp frown between her brows and an anxious tick among her fingers, she hurried down the stairs -- only to confirm her first realisation, it seemed.

Knowing that Klaus couldn't have been hurt in any way, she headed back into the master bedroom to get herself into a nice bath and take some time off to relax. 

She lit the candle that Freya had gifted her some time ago, and stepped into the bathtub full of soap foams. Her head lulled back and her eyes shut off, and she began to think of all the time she had been spending building this new little family recently. 

It still felt so surreal, that Hope was finally here. It was all so new and overwhelming, but Y/n knew that neither her nor Klaus would trade this period of their life for anything. It was almost as if everything had fallen into pieces to fit a puzzle the moment they had welcomed their little daughter into this world. 

There was no other source of light in the bathroom apart from the flickering candle, Y/n didn't feel like turning on the bright white light. And, as she began to tune into Hope’s breathing, she felt her heart begin to beat in sync with hers. It would’ve only been silence to human ears, but Y/n could hear the little puffs and the little movements of her mouth that she made in her sleep. 

She could picture Hope’s head lulled to the side, her mouth slightly ajar and her small frame rising and lowering with each breath that she took. Then, Klaus faded into the photo and she could see Hope’s drool slipping onto his arm and drying up there, because of course Klaus had fallen asleep with her on the rocking chair. 

And finally, she entered the picture herself and took the two of them into the master bedroom, laying Hope between the two of them and pressing kisses on both of their foreheads. After turning off the lights, she was looking at the two pieces of her heart sleeping peacefully, because she felt like she couldn’t miss this sight, because she probably won’t feel the time pass before Hope had to be put to sleep in a crib in her own room. 

Just the idea of that brought tears to her eyes. Everything made her cry these days, and she does realise that it’s because of the hormones. But she doesn’t know how to explain the exhaustion of it all. The untrue and mean thoughts she got throughout the day, whether it was regarding her body or her new journey of being a mother and feeling scared that she’d go wrong somewhere and be hated by her own family for the rest of her life. 

Just the energy it took to shut all those thoughts down and to reassure herself, remind herself of what was true and what wasn’t – took so much out of her that when Klaus held her in his arms at the end of the day, she just wanted to let go and fall into pieces, so that he’d bunch her up and tell her or show her stupid brain that Y/n was indeed right and that the thoughts were just her mind playing games. 

Taking in a deep breath, Y/n rose and washed the soap off of her. She could think about this all day and all night, and she could drown in her sorrows for way too long than healthy. But right now, she needed to go and eat dinner if she wanted to sleep on time. 

Which reminded her – she hadn’t heard Klaus come home. Had she missed it, or had he genuinely not come home yet? She began to focus on her hearing, and only came across Hope’s breaths, nothing else. 

Maybe something had occupied him, she thought, wrapping a towel around her and exiting the bathroom. 

—

Klaus was walking in their backyard with Hope in his arms, asleep, as always. He couldn’t balme her though – she was a newborn, after all, and had a lot to register in her brain in the couple hours that she was awake during the day. 

She had been a calm baby so far. The midnight tantrums weren’t as frequent as others had warned him and Y/n about, maybe because they had way more stamina than an average human.

Y/n, right when she had woken up, had been dragged out by Rebekah and Freya. Trust me, Y/n, I’ve been through what you’re going through and it’s been two weeks since you’ve left the house with us! He had heard Rebekah say to Y/n in the kitchen, and he had agreed a hundred percent. 

They had gone out for brunch, and maybe it was because they had a lot to catch up on, that Y/n hadn’t yet come home and it was nearing lunch time. 

And Y/n, as much as she was enjoying her time out in as much sun as New Orleans got on an average, she was dying to go home. She was missing Hope and Klaus and before she could’ve said anything, Rebekah had herself proposed that they should have some dessert already because Klaus and Hope are probably seeing your sight on the doorstep, she’d laughed. 

“I think I’m gonna walk home, the weather’s really nice,” Y/n said when Rebekah began to try and convince her for a lift in her car. 

“Oh, okay!” Rebekah laughed. “You have come out after a long time, so sure!”

Y/n just passed the woman a narrow-eyed glare as she was hugging Freya. 

“Juut text us when you reach home,” Freys said, walking off towards her car. 

Y/n nodded, bidding goodbye and watching the two drive off before she dropped her smile and sighed. God, her cheeks hurt from how much she’d been smiling and laughing. 

She had only walked a couple paces away from their eating spot when she heard footsteps. It was a busy time, a nice day, so many people were out and about. The city was kind of bustling. But still, Y/n turned to look and immediately, she groaned, coming to a pause. 

“Seriously, Aurora?” She almost whined. “You take annoying someone to a whole another scale,” she said with a face that was genuinely twisted into annoyance and irritation. 

“C’mon Y/n,” Aurora said with a newfound confidence, drawing Y/n’s attention right away. “Can’t you have a chat with me, too? Just us girls?” She grinned, and then rolled her eyes when she saw that flash of Hybrid golden in Y/n’s eyes. 

“I’m not here to fight,” she said. “I’m here to make friends with you,” shrugging, she dared to take a step closer, testing the waters. 

“Don’t be so over confident, Aurora,” Y/n gritted, having pinned the woman on a wall. “It almost got you killed, right this moment,” she said, giving her a final flash of her eyes before getting up and walking away. She was not in the mood to kill today, especially not after the amazing brunch she’d had not too long ago. 

But of course, Aurora was too dumb to get that, Y/n noted as she heard feet jogging to catch up to her pace. 

“Just talk to me this once, and I swear I’ll never show you my face ever again,” Aurora rushed to speak, desperate to get Y/n to stop.

They were still a little far from her home, Y/n realised. She could very conveniently kill her right now, and not get blood anywhere near her family home. 

“What?” She asked instead, coming to a stop. 

“I get why you married Klaus now,” Aurora spoke, a smile creeping up on her mouth. Y/n didn’t want to admit that there was a blush as well. It was probably sunburn, she told herself. 

With a slight roll of her eyes, Y/n forced herself to focus. “What do you mean, Aurora?” She asked her, ready to snap her neck if she tried to beat around the bush once more. 

“I mean, you two got together, had a baby so early on in your marriage. I now realise that it’s because he is so good in bed, you had to lock him down somehow, didn’t you?” She laughed, not noticing the gold swarming Y/n’s eyes as she smiled at the ground, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“I would too. Guess I got a bit late, huh?” She continued with a joke, and then stopped. 

Y/n didn’t even talk to her girlfriends like this. How dare this dumb little piece of work, dare to speak of her and Klaus in such a manner? So, she sped through her movements and sunk her fingers in Aurora’s throat, cleansing her insides.

“I rushed. Think I would’ve liked ripping out your dirty fucking tongue instead,” Y/n hissed, her mouth right next to Aurora’s ear and she was so close she could hear the loud thudding of her heart. It made her feel good, and she almost didn’t want to kill her becuase that noise was music to her ears right now. 

Aurora couldn’t say anything, the only noise she could muster up was the sound of choking, because she was. And she was pretty sure her blood was rushing to places inside her where it shouldn’t be. 

But then, something came over Y/n and she slipped her hand out of Aurora’s throat, leaving it intact as she wiped the blood on the very woman’s clothing. “Sleep good. Maybe some rest will knock some sense into you. After all, all this stalking and annoying someone must be exhausting,” Y/n spoke with an understanding shake in her head. 

And then, before Aurora could even realise much, Y/n had her hand placed near her throat and with that, she snapped her neck, quickly rushing to put her back in her house. She wasn’t cruel or angry enough to leave her asleep in the middle of nowhere. 

But she was riled up enough that she needed to rush home and ask Klaus some questions before her mind could get the better of her. 

She knew that this was the time Hope was usually asleep, and she was praying to the gods above that today wouldn’t be any different. And she opened the door to the house, quickly sensing that Hope was, indeed, asleep but she could hear that Klaus wasn’t.

The shower was running. 

Removing her shoes, she walked to the kitchen and washed her hands in the sink. Then, tiredly, walked over and sat on the sofa in the living room, knowing that Hope was in the master bedroom and they couldn’t talk, potentially argue, there. 

A lot was taken out of her today, and she needed Klaus to reassure her so that she wouldn’t have a breakdown somewhere in the house because it felt like she was going crazy. She knew that he hadn’t done it, knew that he couldn’t have done it. 

But just for the sake of her brain, she needed him to say it. Needed the words to come out of his mouth so that she would know for sure. For she trusted him more than she trusted herself. 

Because right now, her brain was telling her that she had heard Aurora’s love confession that day, but she hadn’t heard Klaus’ reply. Or that Klaus mostly shut the door when she left him with Aurora or how that one night he had come home late after she had left the two of them alone for Klaus to sort out the matters, and he’d told her not to worry about it – that it was nothing and he had taken care of it.

She knew that it truly was nothing. But once, just once, she wanted him to tell her that. 

Waiting and waiting for the shower to turn off, Y/n slipped into a slumber. So when she felt someone close to her, she caught Kalus leaning in to pick her up, probably to carry her to their bedroom. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” he smiled, his gaze so soft and his dimples evident as he instead pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood up straight. “The girls tired you out, hm?” He asked her, raising her head and placing it on his lap once he had sat himself. 

Y/n only mumbled something, before turning to hide her face in his hip area. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him about this when he was caressing her hair so gingerly, but she knew she had to. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said then, looked up at him. 

“What is it, love?”

God, this was going to be hard. She sat up and fixed her bed head with her fingers before she looked at him again, this time with a wavering sigh. 

“Did you sleep with Aurora?” 

Klaus’ eyes hardened then – the exact response Y/n hadn’t been longing to receive. 

[thecapricunt1616]

Balessan - (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒):“The Cub takes down The Bear at the 20 yard lineee!!” Mikey shouts ferociously, jumping up and pouncing on Carmys chest in a bodyslam. Carm groans, “Ohhh you little cheater- when did we start wrestling?! They don’t do bodyslams in football, kid” he wraps his arms around Mikey, caging him in and tickling his sides, causing him to squeal and laugh wildly.

♡ O.S Inspo: Balessan ; Also known as: Poplar Buds, Balsam Poplar, Balm of Gilead, Mecca, Mecca Balsam, & Bechan - This Magickal herb can be used to bring forth; Love, manifestations, protection, healing, de-stressing, and assisting in healing from the loss of a loved one. Use in love sachets; carry for healing, protection, and mending a broken heart. ♡ Summary: This amazing, big brained, fabulous & wonderful request is inspired from this ask from my beautiful flower @daysofyellowroses - Thank you my love. -- In this O/S You & Carmy spend a day with his nephew at the park!

♡ W/C: 4,200

♡ Posted Date: 03/19/2024

♡ A/N: Aaaa! look at me pumpin' these one shots out like hot cakes!!! Get your requests in folks I have a long weekend ahead hahaha!! This was BEYOND fun to write, thank you so much again Rose for such an amazing request. I hope it's everything you imagined!! I lovee love love writing mushy happy Carmy, he deserves all the love in his life!! I totally see him being the pushover uncle just like this, Happy Meals & Ice Cream for daysss!!! <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: NONE!!! Well... carmy smokes a cigarette at the end? That's all hahah - ***NO USE OF Y/N - AS LITTLE PHYSICAL DESCRIP. AS POSSIBLE - READER IS CALLED 'BLOSSOM' IN THIS O/S :)***

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen had never felt true love before. He didn’t think he’d ever know what that felt like. He’d heard stories of parents meeting their newborn babies for the first time, saying that ‘it was an indescribable feeling of holding the entire world in the palm of your hands.’ And that to him, sounded like bullshit. 

It was sweet and all, but considering the way his mother and father treated he and his siblings growing up- that moment was fleeting at the very least. 

That was what he’d thought, until that is- he got the call that would change his life, forever. 

Sugar and Pete had kept the gender of their baby a secret, Carmy was very excited for them, and though Pete wasn’t his favorite person- he knew in his heart he’d be a great dad. Better then he could ever do at least, so that had eased his mind for the new blood of his family. 

Pete had called to inform him that Sugar had given birth, finally, he thought to himself. He didn’t realize that the labor process could take days. Sugar had went into the hospital on Tuesday, in the early afternoon when her water had broken- it was now 4 pm Thursday evening. It was about time for the kid to make an appearance. 

He’d made his way down to the hospital right away, no questions asked. It was Sugar after all, and after Pete had told him she wasn’t having any visitors, but had requested that he specifically come see her- he wasn’t gonna let her down. 

He’d even stopped at the 24-hour deli convenience store on the way, getting her a club sandwich that she’d been moaning about not being able to have for months - something about pregnant people not being allowed to have lunch meat? He wasn’t sure what that was about. 

When he got in the room, it was so quiet, he could hear his heart thumping in his ears. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous- it’s not like the kid was gonna have an opinion on him…yet. But still, he knew first impressions were important. He also didn’t want to fuck anything up, he wasn’t very sure how to hold a baby- he’d never held Eva when she was young, and he heard babies necks were super floppy, so he was really nervous he’d hurt them by mistake.

“Hey..” he said softly, and Sugar sits up. She looked utterly exhausted, she was pale, her hair was knotted and sweaty all stuck to her forehead, and her eyes were bloodshot from either pain or being so tired, he wasn’t sure which. 

“Bear! You came!” She said quietly, opening her arms for a hug. He walks over to her, carefully wrapping his arms around her as he wasn’t sure if her stomach would be hurting or not, and kissing her cheek lovingly. 

“Y’re amazing Sugar, you did so good, thats fuckin’ crazy- you had a baby, Sug” he tells her, rubbing her arm gently. Carmen didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, other than what he’d learned from Sugar over the past year or so. The only thing he really knew about the birthing process was what he’d seen on TV, and the fact that birth hurt like an absolute bitch, and that there was no way around it. 

“Thank you…is that-“ she asked, picking up the bag he’d placed next to her on the bed. He smiled a bit, pulling the sandwich out. 

“Club sandwich. Don’t say I never listen to you” he teased and she pouted, tears filling her eyes and she pulled him into another hug. 

“Y’re the best Bear.” She said. “Sorry…I’m gonna be hormonal for like..another year” she laughed a bit. 

He chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “I’m used to it by now.” He teased. 

The door opened, and a nurse wheeled in a bundle of white striped blankets in to the room, lying in a bassinet. 

“Oh! Uncle is here! Okay so baby did great, they’re all set. We got all the bloodwork we needed, took their k shot, everything is looking wonderful. I’ll let you get acquainted” she said, being sure not to give away the baby’s name or gender before they were ready, leaving the little bundle next to Sugars bedside before heading out and closing the door quietly behind her. 

The baby coos, making sweet adorable little noises. Carmen took the bag of food for Sugar, placing it on her bedside table as she carefully picked up her baby, cradling them in her arms. 

Carmen was in awe. Everything about them was so…tiny. So pure, so untouched by the world. He carefully nudged the blanket down so he could get a better view of their face, the babies teeny little hand peeking out. He couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his lips as the babe curled their whole hand around his forefinger. 

“Sug” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes and falling to his cheeks before he could try and hold them back. “Oh god…” he said softly, stroking the baby's tiny fingers with his thumb. 

“Michael Anthony Lombardi” she said softly. He looks up at her, jaw dropped. 

It was totally something sugar would do, so sentimental. Naming her first son after her 2 brothers. But now, Carmen felt even more attached to the little guy. He was carrying his name- he had to take care of him, protect him, the same way Michael had done for him. 

Carmen sniffles, kissing her head and resting his cheek on top of it as he looks down at the beautiful little baby. Well- maybe not beautiful physically- yet. Carmen always thought brand new babies looked fairly weird, of course he’d never tell Sugar that, though. 

But, beautiful in the sense that he knew what this baby meant for them, for their family. It was a brand new beginning, and maybe- just maybe…this would be enough to get his mother to clean up her act enough to be the grandmother for this baby how she couldn’t be a mother to he and his siblings.  “Nice to meet you, Mikey” he said with the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle, vision blurry with tears.

It had been about 6 months since you and Carm had met, and one of the things you loved about him was what an active, engaged uncle he was with his little nephew, Michael. 

He’d grown plenty now since the first time he and the little cub met, being ‘a whole hand and a thumb’ as Mikey proudly told you the time you’d met the little firecracker at the first family dinner you’d attended. 

That little boy was Carmy’s sun, moon, and all of his stars. He was constantly spoiling him with new toys, clothes, taking him out for “Mikey and Bear” days, the kid was the lockscreen on his phone for crying out loud. If you weren’t dating him, with the way he talks about that boy- you’d think he was a single dad. 

Sugar very much appreciated it though, she never wanted to stop working when she’d gotten pregnant, so being able to balance four different days off with 3 adults, rather than just split the duties between her and Pete- it helped their lives as a couple run a lot smoother overall. 

It took a while for Carmy to even introduce you to Mikey. He’d been nervous, reverting to his old ways of ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ and nothing would crush him more, then introducing his favorite little guy to someone, getting him used to them, and then them leaving him.

He could handle that rejection- but he damn sure wasn’t gonna subject Mikey to that same pain. If there was one thing Carmen swore, it was to protect the child with everything he had. 

This was the third time you’d be meeting Mikey. Carmy had asked if you wanted to take him to the park together for a picnic after he’d picked him up from school, and of course you agreed. There was no better way to spend the afternoon than sharing snacks with your Bear under the shade of oak trees from the late spring sun, and chasing around Sugars mini-me until he clonked out on the blanket for a nap. 

When you’d arrived to the park to meet them, you spotted Carm’s large black blanket with his backpack and 2 matching big and small Nalgene water bottles, adorned with stickers from different water parks and amusement parks they’d been to together, but he nor Mikey were nowhere to be seen. But you couldn’t miss them with how loud Mikey was being. 

“No! No! I call foul!!” Carm laughed boisterously. You continue on, seeing them come in to view past the blockade of a large tree- to find Carmy rolling in the grass as Mikey tackled him for the football he was holding. 

“The Cub takes down The Bear at the 20 yard lineee!!” Mikey shouts ferociously, jumping up and pouncing on Carmys chest in a bodyslam. 

Carm groans, “Ohhh you little cheater- when did we start wrestling?! They don’t do bodyslams in football, kid” he wraps his arms around Mikey, caging him in and tickling his sides, causing him to squeal and laugh wildly.

“Wow! Uncle Bear has been lacking at the gym, thanks for takin’ care of my light stuff Mikey” you said teasingly with a big smile. 

Mikey quickly got up, running over to you “Blossom!!!” he squealed, crashing into your waist, nearly knocking you over in the process. Blossom had become your nickname in the family, since the first time they’d met you, Carm insisted you’d smelt like cherry blossoms, to which Sugar and Richie agreed, so from then on- you were Blossom. 

“Woah! Kid you’re getting strong huh? Peewee football training been gettin intense?” You give him a big hug. 

Carm chuckled, getting up and dusting the grass and leaves from his hair and shirt, coming over and greeting you with a peck on the lips. “Tell me ‘bout it- Thanks for meeting me, kids got crazy energy today.” He said, ruffling the boys curly soft brown hair lovingly. 

“Nowww can we eat our lunch?” Mikey looked up at him, his pretty blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. He really did look like Mikey, and Carmy mixed together in the best way. The Berzatto family genes were mighty strong, at least on the men’s side. 

“Yes Cub. Y’know…you scammed me into a happy meal before we got here, how can you be so starved?” He teased, causing you to giggle. 

“Again? Wow Carm, you’re going softer and softer as the days go by” you teased, sitting down with he and Mikey on the comfortable blanket under the shade of the trees.

“Well it’s hard to tell him no. Did you know he got a 100% on his spelling test t’day? Mikey, tell Blossom how to spell ‘water’ ” he told him with a grin. 

Mikey looks over proudly “w-a-t…” he stops for a moment, looking at Carmy nervously. 

“You got it bud, keep goin’- sound it out, what’s next?” Carmy encourages gently. 

“E! It's E! w-a-t-e-r!” Mikey finishes proudly and you both clap for him excitedly. 

“Oh my goodness! You are such a smart boy. Good job Mikey!�� You gush, giving him a high five. 

“That’s right the smartest. First spelling test of the year, and you nailed it bud!!” Carmy praised, hugging him and kissing his head sweetly. 

“Mommy’s gonna be so excited!” He said, sitting crisscross as he opened up his pb&j Carm packed for him. 

“She’s gonna be stoked, Cub. Absolutely stoked” you told him, taking the sandwich Carm had offered you. 

“Oh! Blossom I learned a new joke- listen, so you say who’s there when I say ‘knock knock’ got it?” Mikey asks and you nod with a smile. 

“Alright, thank you for my lines ahead of time, Cub” you joked, earning a chuckle out of Carmen who had surely heard this joke one million times since he’d learned it, considering he saw the kid no less then 5 days a week. 

“Knock knock!” Mikey said, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m doing the dishes” you said, causing Mikey to burst into adorable giggles and Carm to follow suit since he couldn’t help himself when Mikey got started. 

“Nooo! Blossom!” He giggled “you say ‘who’s there’ this time, ok?” He said and you nod. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure to be not so busy this time.” You teased with a giggle. 

“Knock knooock!” He said again. 

“Hold on just a second! I need to feed mister mittens- my cat!” You said and he laughs again, shaking his head. 

“You promised! Blossom! It’s ‘who’s there!’ “ he giggled. 

“Okayyy! Okay! Whoooos there?” You oblige. 

“Harry!!!” He said happily, popping a grape in his mouth. 

“I don’t know a Harry- so scram!” You teased and he laughed so hard he snorted, causing you and Carmy to crack up in a fit of laughs together. 

“You’re bad at jokes Blossom, here watch, Bear will do it right f’me. Bear, knock knock” he looks over at Carm. 

“Who’s there, Cub?” He said, taking a bite of his own sandwich. 

“Harry” he smiled big, “listen blossom” Mikey urges, causing you to giggle. 

“Harry who” Carm said with a large grin.  “Harry up and open the door it’s raining out here!!!” Mikey said, bursting in to a fit of giggles which of course caused you and Carm to join.

“Ready or not here I come!” You hear Carmy say. You hold your finger to your lips, holding Mikey tightly in your lap in the tube slide so you both won’t fall and give up your ingenious hiding spot the two of you had come up with.

“Shhh! We gotta be quiet Cub or he’s gonna find us- the bear will eat you!” you joked and he covered his mouth quickly to contain his giggles.

“Where are youuuu!” Carmy called from the other side of the playground, you giggled quietly to yourself. 

“We picked a good spot bud!” you whisper proudly and he nods, hugging your arm sweetly. Leg suddenly cramps up from being in such an awkward position in a tube meant for children much shorter then you, and you gasp quietly, moving your foot to relieve it but in the struggle- your flip-flop slips off, sliding down the tube slide and you hear it thump on the ground below, blowing up your hiding spot. 

You and Mikey look at eachother as you hear Carm laugh, “Ohhhh! Dead!! You’re both dead!” he said and you quickly lift Mikey behind you. 

“Go Mikey! Save yourself he’s gonna eat you!!!” you laugh and he scrambles out of the tube as Carm climbs up from the bottom, grabbing your bare foot.

You squeal in laughter as he pulls you down the slide by your feet, catching you at the bottom and kissing all over your face and neck, nibbling as he goes. “You’ve been caught” he growls playfully, pinning your arms above your head and kissing where your shirt rode up over your stomach leaving playful lovebites on your hips.

“Hey!” Mikey yells, running up and hugging Carms leg, hanging on it like a little monkey. “Thats my best friend! Leave her alone you big grizzly bear!” he yells through his giggles, playfully hitting Carmys leg.

“Ohhhh you’re dead Cub, dead meat buddy” he pulled away from you, scooping Mikey up and swinging him around. “Y’think y’can just beat up y’re best uncle mm little man?” he holds him upside down by his legs holding him carefully and dangling him in front of your face causing him to laugh wildly. “I present your savior Blossom, he’s been defeated” he sways him teasingly causing him to laugh more.

  “Oh noooo! Cub! The Bear got you! I forgot to tell you….he and I were working together in secret- mwahaha!!” you laugh evilly, tickling his exposed belly and he wiggles screeching in laughter.

“Not fair- Not fair!!!” he said between giggles. Carm carefully laid him on your lap so he wouldn’t get sick from being upside down and checks his watch for the time.

“Alright- we got 15 minutes, do we want swings, slide, or playing a game?” Carmy asked, causing Mikey to whine. 

“Noooo! Bear! It’s not time yet!!! It’s not even dark” he pouted, pointing at the sun, causing Carm to smile. 

“Y’re right, its not dark, but bein’ a big man in kindergarten means you got big man responsibilities now, like goin’ home and doin’ homework w’Dad yeah? He’s gonna be waitin’ on you, Dad’s not a man I can reason with m’friend, Higher rank on the totem” he ruffled his hair. 

“Fiiiine” Mikey grumbled. “I wanna do swings, race me-” he jumps up from your lap, sprinting towards the swingset.

“Wha- hey! You’re supposed to say 1,2,3, go! Those are the rules cheater!” Carmy laughs as he jogs after him. You slipped on your flipflop, going after the two boys.

“I beat you! See Blossom my new shoes make me so fast!” Mikey called to you proudly, hopping up and sitting in the swing as Carmy finally caught up.

“I did! Super fast Mikey!” you agreed with a giggle making your way up to the swingset. 

“Oh! Oh! Blossom, let’s see who can get higher!” Mikey said happily and you oblige, sitting on the swing next to him.

“Alright, Bear- you’re the judge I guess” you smiled, starting to pump your legs.

“I’m a tough critic, I expect perfect form outta you” he teased, sitting down on the picnic table in front of the swingset as he watched. 

“I’m gonna win” Mikey said confidently, already getting a few feet higher then you had. 

You giggled, “Yeah- cause you had a head start” you counter, pumping your legs harder trying to gain more momentum.

“It’s lookin’ good for Mikey babe, keep it up kid y’re doin’ great” Carm encouraged, resting his hands behind his head and stretching his legs out as he watched. 

“Bear can I jump off and you catch me?” Mikey asked hopefully to which Carmen laughs.

“Noooo way kiddo, I’m not takin’ a trip to the ER t’night, I got work in the morning and either i’ll end up hurt, or y’mother will kill me” he said, causing you to laugh as well.

“You’re gonna break your neck kid, don’t do that at school, did that once as a kid and I broke my ankle” you giggled, gasping as your flipflop flew off once again and hit Carmen right over the top of the head, causing you and Mikey to burst out in a fit of giggles.

“Hey!” Carm said, rubbing his head jokingly with a chuckle.”Those things are proving to be a horrible choice of park footwear, baby” he snorts, setting the shoe next to him on the bench for when you got off.

“I’m sorry! My work shoes were a worse choice and these are all I had in my locker” you giggled, the wind whipping your hair as you get higher and higher in the air.

“Bear! Bear! Look how high I am!!!” Mikey said proudly to which Carm nods with a big grin.

“That’s right bud! Y’re so high right now, bet you could touch an airplane if it was flyin’ over huh?” he said, digging his phone out of his pocket to take a video. “Say hi to Mommy!” he said and Mikey laughed happily, waving at Carm.

“Hiiii Mommy! I love you!” he said sweetly with a giggle. “Am I beating Blossom? Huh Bear? Am I higher?” he said and Carm chuckled.

“Mhmm- sorry baby, I think Mikey has ya beat this time around,” he said, ending the video and slipping his phone back in his pocket.

“Well how could I beat the best huh?” you mused, stopping pumping your legs so your swing would slow. 

“I told you!” Mikey giggled, digging his heels into the woodchips to come to a hard stop and running up to Carmy, giving him a big hug. “Can we get ice cream bear?” he asked and Carm laughed, shaking his head.

“You don’t stop, huh kiddo? No ice cream, It’ll spoil y’r dinner. How ‘bout, if y’really good at school this week- When I get you on Friday, we’ll go you ‘n me yeah?” he pats his back and Mikey nods with a pout.

“Pinky promise” He holds up his pinky and Carmy hooks his own around it, kissing Mikeys hand, and Mikey kisses his. 

“See? Deal” he ruffled his brunette curls and got up, grabbing the flip flop and coming up to you, crouching down grabbing your leg and kissing down your calf causing you to giggle before he carefully put the flip flop on your foot.

“I want a piggyback!” Mikey said, jumping on Carmys back to which he caught his balance with his forearm.

“Woah! Okay! Alright piggyback it is bud but y’gotta tell me yeah? We don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt” he told him, hiking him up on his waist as he stood up, Mikey wrapping his arms around his neck securely.

“Ok I’ll tell you next time” he replied. You hopped off the swing, taking Carmy’s hand and interlacing your fingers as you walked, swinging your hands together happily. The weather was absolutely perfect today. Not a cloud in the sky, perfect humidity, 72 degrees, you were surprised there weren’t more people here at the park other than the fact it was a Wednesday afternoon.

The three of you made your way back over to the blanket, and Carmy gently sets Mikey down to fold it up and pack up his backpack with the remainder of the food we couldn’t finish. “Blossom look! Look! I can jump so high in my new shoes!” Mikey said, tugging your pants to look at him and you obliged, keeping him busy as Carm tried to get everything situated to pack into the car. 

“Alright little jumping bean, time to go home d’you wanna race to the car, or I’ll carry you?” He asked, putting on his backpack and carrying Mikeys for him.

“Race- 123go!” Mikey said quickly before taking off and you laughed. Carm shakes his head with a smile, holding your hand as you both walked after him to the car. 

The ride back was full of laughter and singing Bluey songs, of course. That was Mikey’s favorite show at the moment, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way Carmy sang with Mikey along to every word. Carmy had even gotten a little Bluey air freshener that hung on his rearview mirror, just another little piece of Mikey that hung around, alongside his carseat that permanently lived in the back, the polaroid of him, sugar, and Mikey on his dash, the many toys scattered along the backseat. It was more than clear that the little guy held his entire heart in the palms of his hands. 

“Alright buckaroo” Carmy said as he pulls into sugars driveway. Mikey unbuckles himself, flinging forward and wrapping you into a hug. 

“Bye awesome blossom, thanks for playing with me” he said sweetly. You smiled, ruffling his hair and wrapping your arms around him.

“We’ll do it again soon, bud. Be good yeah? Listen t’your momma” You told him, patting his back. Carmy got out, grabbing his bluey backpack for him, helping him out of the car and carrying him up the steps, opening up the door and heading in to drop him off.

You opened up the center console, digging out Carm’s cigarettes and a lighter, knowing he was gonna be craving one bad when he got back in the car. Sugar didn’t even have to ask, as soon as the baby was born- if he was gonna be around the baby he wasn’t smoking until after he’d left, so there was absolutely no chance of any secondhand smoke being passed on to him.

Cracking the window, you lit it, taking a drag as he shuts the door behind him and comes back to the car. You offered the cigarette between your fingers and he smiled, taking it after he buckled his seatbelt. “Have I reminded you today, how much I love you my perfect angel” He leaned in, giving you a sweet lingering kiss on the lips. 

You smiled, humming softly at the sweet gesture. “Yes- well- not in person today, but, you did text me - good morning, I love you when you went to work, so that counts” he smiled as he took a drag, backing out of the driveway carefully. 

“Well, I love you baby, What are we doin’ f’r dinner? Am I cookin’ er we goin out?” he cracks his window, ashing his cigarette before having another drag, resting his tattooed hand on your thigh, stroking gently as he drove.

“I’m in the mood for some Berzatto Family Pasta” you hum, resting your hand out the window to feel the cool kiss of the spring evening breeze.  “Family pasta it is, Blossom”

[houserautha]

Feyd keeping his wife company when she gives birth.

What if the baby is breech?

I’m trying to imagine Feyd holding a tiny infant for the first time lmao 🤣

And they work together to stop the Baron from taking the child away.

“The baby is breech.”

The physician, who had been taking great lengths not to interact with the na-Baron, regards him with poorly disguised terror.

Feyd, who has been standing at your side, snarls at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the baby isn’t head first,” you tell him. Exhaustion wears at you. And now panic worms its way through your mind.

“Then fix it,” Feyd snaps.

“I-I can try. But it’s going to cause some discomfort.” The physician looks as if he would sooner rather swallow his own tongue.

Feyd glares. The physician takes this as an invitation to start, and you clamp down on Feyd’s hand. Applying firm pressure, the physician starts to coax the baby to turn external. You inhale sharply — the sensation is strange, painful, and you do your best to mask your discomfort for the sake of the physician but Feyd knows you too well.

“That’s not helping. There must be another way,” he rasps. Something akin to fear tinges his voice.

The physician wrings his hands. “The only other option is a cesarean delivery.”

“You’re not harming her,” Feyd says.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s the only way. Otherwise there might be complications that could kill us both.” A contraction seizes you then and you cry out. Feyd mumbles praise to you as you endure it, then turns sharply to the physician as if he did this to you, not himself.

“Fine. You’ve done this before?”

The physician nods and offers a smile. “Many times, na-Baron.”

Feyd has seen many things in his life, has been the catalyst that puts more men and women in their graves than he could count. Most of their deaths had ended in a bloody mess.

But never before did he think that life could be born from such gruesome measures.

The physician is quick to suck up the blood from the incision on your abdomen, giving Feyd just enough time to watch his daughter be pulled from you, bloodied and purple. His breath catches. He’s given the chance to sever the umbilical cord, to see the organ that you had grown only to feed his child. Awe spirals through him during the whole process, carrying him through the next moments of stroking your hair and murmuring his adoration as the physician closes the incision.

One second he is by your side, the next, a nurse is handing him a swaddled white blanket.

Feyd blinks stupidly at the nurse. In his disbelief of your body and admiration of your strength, he had completely forgotten about his daughter.

“No, I —”

The nurse beams at him. “She is beautiful.”

Feyd is given no choice but to take his daughter in his arms, the nurse instructing him where to cradle her head. “My husband was nervous about our first, too,” the nurse says fondly.

“I’m not,” he snaps.

You can’t help but smirk as you observe the interaction. It amuses you, to see him like this. Normally fiercely confident and self assured, reduced now to a bumbling fool when handed a tiny newborn. His posture is stiff, expression uncertain as he meets your eyes, and the tiniest of smiles graces his lips.

The next few days pass in a blur of bliss and sleepless nights. You have just settled your daughter down and risked a quick wobble to the bathroom when you hear raised voices in the other room. Figuring it’s Feyd — probably arguing with some servant — you quickly relieve yourself. You were right, it is Feyd, but not a servant that he’s vehemently arguing with.

It’s the Baron.

Your molars grind together at the sight of him. Feyd stands between his uncle and your daughter, who slumbers on, unaware. His hands are fists at his sides.

“Absolutely not,” Feyd growls.

“I did not come here to give you a choice,” the Baron retorts. “You knew since the beginning that your child did not belong to you.”

Red flares in your vision. “If it was a son. We had a daughter,” you remind him, gesturing to the cot.

The Baron regards you with disinterest. You were never more to him than a vessel in which to host Feyd’s seed. “While unforeseen, the Bene Gesserits insist upon raising the child. Truly you did not believe it would stay here.”

It.

“She will go nowhere with you,” Feyd says.

“Very well.” The Baron glides towards the door on his suspenders. “Then the Reverend Mother will be here in a day’s time to collect the child.”

It’s not an easy decision — but you make it in the quiet of the night, blanketed by fear and grief. The nurse from before agrees to steal away your child and pass it off as her own, at least long enough for the conflict with the Bene Gesserits to pass. Tears stream down your face as you watch the nurse’s retreating form. Feyd stands silently beside you, stoic and emotionless. Finally he presses a breathy kiss to your temple.

“It’s better this way,” he whispers to you.

You lay eyes on your daughter again when she is two years of age, face round and eyes curious as she regards the two strangers in her doorway — the tall, broad man with the severe mouth and the woman next to him.

Your smile wavers. “Hello.”

[snugglebug-mj-blog]

The eldest daughter who wasn't wanted

Sully family x oldest daughter reader

y/n sully is the oldest daughter of the Sully's twin sister of Neteyam. Even though y/n was a na'vi she came out smaller than a normal Navi baby and her skin was a sky demon tan color. She was given away a week after birth. After 16 years the Sully's reunited with y/n but y/n has a new family and doesn't consider the Sully's her family besides Mo'at.

(art isn't mine unless I say it is. The names I picked out.

I've been wanting to do this story for a while and I finally got the push I needed for it, this is just one of my avatar stories)

y/n and clan / prologue

Y/n (16 years old)

The eldest daughter of the Sully's twin sister of Neteyam.

Belongs to the Dushnikh clan a terrifying, strong but caring clan.

The Dushnikh clan is a clan of the tallest, green orcish Navis

The clan is located in a swampy area.

(The clan and characters are my ocs but the name of the clan is from a Skyrim its a orc strong hold)

~prologue 16 years ago~

The battle had ended with hells gates a few months ago when neytiri had went into labor. After many hours of pain Neytiri had given birth to her children, a little  girl and a little boy named y/n and Neteyam, but y/n came out wrong, y/n was much smaller than a normal na'vi newborn she was human newborn size, her skin was a tannish color with light blue strips and she had five fingers, she did have na'vi ears, nose, kuru, and tail. Neytiri held the small new born looking up at Jake "Ma Jake.." she started Jake shock his head "don't worry my love" he replied at first they were happy to have both of the twins but soon some of the clan started talking "that baby is a demon!" "You need to get rid of it!" "Demon blood!" Neytiri and Jack did their best to ignore them.

~ a week later~

"My daughter don't do this! Please let her hear the great mother!" Mo'at begged as her daughter and son-in-law were about to give their daughter away.

"No mother. I am her mother I know what's best for her. We need to protect our family and clan" neytiri said as she gave her week old daughter to norm, while Neteyam cried from the wrapping of his mother's chest, Jake held kiri as he talked to Norm.

"She is family!" Mo'at hissed

Jack stepped between his mate and her mother

"Enough we made our choice" Jake hissed

Mo'at hissed back before grabbing the week old baby girl from norm "Fine I will take her somewhere where she can grow up in peace" Mo'at growled holding the baby closer to her chest

"Mother-" neytiri started but was cut off

"Enough! I am your mother and one of the elders! My choice over rules yours!" Mo'at hissed neytiri and Jack stepped back.

"I am her father give me my daughter" Jake said trying to grab y/n

Mo'at hissed again "No! I have spoken Jack Sully, the other elders agree with me, she deserves to live in peace"

"Mother where are you taking her? Let us come with you, I want to know that my daughter is safe" neytiri offers

Mo'at shock her head "No! Stay here, I will make sure she is safe" Mo'at said walking away with the baby.

~sometime later ~

Mo'at had sat in the hut with another larger elder sitting in front of her

"Mo'at my old friend, it's nice to see you but what's brought you to our home?" The elder in front Mo'at asked

"Leyra my old friend, as you know my daughter had her child a week ago. But my daughter has given up her daughter because she looks different." Mo'at said as she opened the baby carrier on her chest.

The elder na'vi gasped "These young ones always think they know what's best. Did you talk to her about her fate if she does this?" Leyra said as she looked at the small tan na'vi child staring back at her with an incorrect toothless smile.

Mo'at nodded as she looked down at the week old "yes but my daughter and her husband didn't listen.. they said they know what's best for their family."

Leyra and Mo'at turned when they heard the beads at the opening move to see another large female na'vi holding a small toddler

"My apologies mother and Mo'at" the female na'vi spoke with a bow Mo'at and Leyra smiled

"Zo'ile it has been to long, I see you have a small one" Mo'at said with a smile as the young na'vi walked over to her mother's friend.

Leyra smiled as her daughter sat beside her "Zo'ile I was about to call for you" Leyra said smiling at her daughter "Mo'at has brought her granddaughter to us, to be raised and cared for"

Zo'ile froze when her mother said those words before looking at Mo'at who held the small tan na'vi and her son At'ok standing by Mo'at smiling at the baby. Zo'ile reached out and Mo'at smiled before handing her the small baby.

"Her name is y/n" Mo'at said as she handed zo'ile the baby

Zo'ile smiled her heart had acked for the baby her son At'ok got into his mother's arms and stared at the baby as well "Tsmuke (sister)" At'ok said smiling zo'ile smiled before looking back at her mother and Mo'at "mother can she stay here I can raise her as my own, of course she'll know Mo'at as her grandmother as well. Please" zo'ile begged slightly.

Leyra and Mo'at smiled, Mo'at knew from then on her granddaughter would be loved and cared for from someone other than her. Leyra looked at her old friend

"Mo'at" she asked Mo'at smiled

"As long as you're ok with it my old friend" Mo'at replied

Leyra smiled "she'll be loved, cared for and excepted" Leyra said as they watched At'ok and y/n fell asleep in Zo'iles arms against her chest making her smile

(Something like this)

(Go look up artsofmetamoor! Love their avatar au)

Mo'at smiled sadly she didn't want to leave her first grandchild but her people really needed her and she knew y/n would have a better life here. "goodbye ma granddaughter I will come visit when I can, and thank you again leyra, zo'ile" Mo'at said getting up

leyra nodded and got up as well followed by zo'ile "of course my friend anything for you" she said hugging the smaller Forest na'vi.

Mo'at nodded and left the hut, zo'ile looked down at her children "mother why would neytiri give up her child?" Zo'ile asked Leyra shook her head

"Sometime na'vi forget the ways we were taught, they think they know best until eywa shows that you're wrong. Neytiri gave the child up because some sharp words spoken by her clan" Leyra said as she looked at her daughter, before walking away to grab crushed up herbs

"The day will come where we will have to tell her but until then, she will be raised the way of our people" leyra said gently rubbed the herd on the baby's head making her giggle in her sleep zo'ile smiled.

"Good night mother" zo'ile said as she walked out of the hut

"Good night ma daughter"

Zo'ile walked into her hut on to meet the chest of her mate Nawmrui.

"Ma Zo'ile are you and At'ok alright what took so long?" Nawmrui asked before his eyes widden at the sight of the smaller na'vi in his mate and childs arms.

"Ma Nawmrui, Mo'at had came by for a visit and she brought her granddaughter. Neytiri and her mate didn't want the baby, when I laid eyes on her I felt the great mother telling me to take her in as my own." Zo'ile said holding the baby's close

Nawmrui slowly got down on his knees to see the baby clearly, y/n had opened her sleepy eyes before giggle and reaching out for nawmrui gently placing her hand on his nose.

Nawmrui smiled "Oh great mother has blessed us with not one amazing child but now two. I am blessed" Nawmrui said as he got up and gently hugged his wife and his two children.

The next morning y/n had been introduced to the clan and they watched as y/ns kuru was connected to their spirit tree. The tree grew brighter and the clan was overjoyed to see the newest member of the Dushnikh clan

Nawmrui and zo'ile stared at their two children with nothing but love and care.

If the Sully's didn't want y/n the Dushnikh clan definitely did.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Okay here me out please....So reader leaves their beloved baby with their father Muzan for the night, because he said he can handle it....he can't the baby is everywhere, he can't take his eyes off of them for a minute without her just vanishing to somewhere else. Eventually baby get's of the infinity castle and finds herself being coddled by Yoriichi and Muzan is just.....`he's panicking and like he don't know what to do, so like eventually he has to fess up to reader that he fucked up and she has to go get the baby and she and yorrichi lightly have a conversation (roast session) about muzan and responsibility

I know this is a bit strange but please I just think it would be funny

Oh? Okay, okay! I’ll try my best with this and hey, we get to see Yoriichi again! I missed Yoriichi so thank you dearly for giving us the angel back! The angel and demon

If you don’t mind, I’ll name the kid myself since haven’t been given a name

Kibutsuji Muzan- Wondering Child

“Muzan, my love. All you need to do is watch Kuragari” You gently remark with a soft voice and a understanding tint, offering the newborn Kuragari to your husband as his blood reds scanned over both you and the cooing baby. Muzan scoffed under his breath at the rather easy task you given him, watch his own biological infant. He could do it blindfolded and with one arm tied to his back

The moment you walked out of the room, Muzan immediately plopped the blood red-eyed baby into his cute little playcrib as he sat down, right before Kuragari in his playarea, to pick up a nearby abandoned novel to skim through the hefty pages and pinpoint the chapter he was at. He took his eyes of the boy for only a minute or so when he realised the lack of cooing and giggling was concerning, looking up. His heart drooped in concern

He’s gone? He’s gone?! Where did he go?! He’s a baby! How is he gone already?!

Muzan almost panicked as he shot up from his comfortable plush arm chair and frantically checked every nook and cranny of the spacious room for Kuragari with some… or more, all furniture thrown at the walls along the way, no success further alarmed him. How is a few months year old already more fidgety and energetic than a bumbling four year old

Muzan ended up almost destroying the entire Infinity Castle in search for a single small demon. He truly had no clue where that bouncing newborn could be and the only reason he had a decent clue was because a number of trees leading down a specific dirt path, once transported out of the Infinity Castle, had the same fang-like bite marks in them. As if a baby animal was teething on the trunks

Perfect

The King of Demons couldn’t be anymore thankful that time itself had given him a shred of mercy and averted the sky to pitch black so the glowing moon would shower cool moonlight down on his dead white complexion. His slight relief was cut short when he finally found the source of sudden familiar giggling, he knew that voice belonged to his son so he followed it

And what he saw terrified him as he definitely had his hands too tied to be able to take action

That… that bastard, Tsugikuni Yoriichi holding his precious baby boy in his lap as Kuragari happily rose his cute tiny hands up to touch Yoriichi’s much bigger, calloused palms. The monstrous human had a very shocked expression on his face as his plum reds looked ready to swell up in tears, his heart touched by the Prince of Demons being so sweet and playful, despite being the enemy

Muzan knew very well he couldn’t intervene at all as the last time he hardly butted heads with that Yoriichi. He only got away with one single strand of his entire being left, it was far too close for his comfort though, he knew he also needed to get his beloved Kuragari back. The only solution that came to his head was you, the boy’s mother

You were a human, just like Yorichi. You could get the boy back, no problem. Unlike Muzan himself

Cemented on his meticulous plan to get his baby back from the monster, Muzan rushed back to the Infinity Castle at his top speed and seemingly arrived in the same room you stood before, just in the nick of time to greet you. “Greetings, my love. Where’s Kuragari?” You ask softly and almost immediately, out of concern as Muzan flinches guilty, sighing out to try relieve him of the stress. He should just tell you, no need to lie or gaslight you into believing such nonsense

“You know that beast, Tsugikuni. He has stolen our son. I only took my eyes off him for a minute, if not two and he was gone, I luckily tracked him down by the teeth marks on trees but I cannot get him back, you know” You sighed displeased, part of you knew this simple task would end in absolute disaster but since you loved the clueless demons, you just flashed a sweet, gentle smile and took his hand encouragingly

“Let’s go find our Kuragari then, my dear”

Laughing joyfully with your precious Kuragari sat on your lap, fiddling and pulling on the lengthy ends of your haori to entertain himself and satisfy his curiosity. You were perched on the open wooden edge-skirt of the homely Minka belonging to the one and only swordsman that ruled the battlefield with a platinum fist, Yoriichi himself. The same Yoriichi who apparently ‘stole’ your son but you got the actual picture from Yoriichi and it made you realise your husband is no where near competent with childcare

“I found this one crawling around my backyard. I don’t know how he got there but he seemed to have travelled miles and was hungry, he kept biting at everything” Every word that human man said felt very genuine and you weren’t ever gonna try deny that him and his statements were

His explanation of the situation made much more sense than what Muzan proclaimed happened, such a weird one nevertheless. Yoriichi didn’t even know your son existed in the first place, why would he go after him?

Needless to say… you and Yoriichi spent almost a hour trading innocent insults at Muzan and his so-called parenting style. You didn’t really hate your husband, he actually tried and took responsibility by telling you about losing him but he should always be watching Kuragari, the newborn should never left alone not had eyes taken off him for even a minute and somebody like Yorichi, who lost his soon-to-be-born child to a demon, knows that

You have learnt to never entrust Kuragari to Muzan, you will just have to go to Yoriichi instead

[melancholymetropolis]

PillowTalk

plot: A normal breakfast takes a steamy turn.

pairings: Aizawa Shota x Pregnant!Reader

genre(s): Marriage of Convenience AU; Shameless Smut

warnings: MUTUAL PINING. former boss/assistant. mansion in the middle of the woods. stay-at-home wife (kinda). CEO husband. ROLEPLAY. reader is a book nerd. chasing. lowkey beauty & the beast au. toxic ex. library sex. PIV SEX. rough. table top. mentions of voyeurism + masturbation. pet names (princess, little wife, beast, prince charming etc) light breeding. teasing. Aizawa is a simp for his wife. y/n is a dirty -talker. BOTH OF THEM ARE REALLY HORNY FOR EACH OTHER

w.c: 4.4k

Aizawa Shota lowered the newspaper from his view and lifted the coffee cup to his lips. He took a hefty gulp of the cool drink and I felt myself squirm in my seat. 

My kinda-husband was simply too hot for words and I was beginning to lose my mind. His dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head, but a few (selective) strands framed his face. He decided to grow out his facial hair a bit, sporting a deviously dark five o’clock shadow. The white dress shirt framing his chest was seconds away from breaking at any sudden movements. The black suit he wore was tailored to his body perfectly— framing his butt and thighs gorgeously. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or the lack of pleasure I had acquired in recent months— I wanted him. I wanted him badly. 

I wanted my fake husband to toss me to the table and devour me, just like how he did our breakfast.

I wanted him to mount me like the sexual beast I knew he was and pound me into the table.

I wanted him to ruin other—

“How are things?” He asked, snapping me out of my reverie. 

“Uh. . . what things?” I asked absentmindedly. 

His black eyes flicked onto my face, taking in my flushed expression. “Are you hot? Do you want me to turn down the thermostat?”

Oh, I am hot. Hot and ready for you to slurp me like—

“N-No,” I stammered, bringing my iced tea to my lips. I took a slow sip before setting the glass back on the table. “And everything is fine! The doctor said my blood pressure and cortisol levels were not as high as before and were leaning toward normal. She also told me to start drinking okra water and to work on my breathing, since I reaching the end of my trimester.”

Aizawa nodded. “Seems to be all good news. I am happy to hear it.”

“Well, there is only good news because of you and your support,” I said sheepishly. 

The statement was very true, if it weren’t for Aizawa I probably would’ve been dead by now. That was not an exaggeration whatsoever.

We didn't marry for love, nor was this union arranged. It was a simple matter of convenience. I was his secretary and he was the CEO of the company. I was already engaged to another man prior, but he left me mere weeks after I had fallen pregnant. My fiance cleared our joint account and fled the country. Leaving me with nothing. I was forced to consider going back to the united states and sleeping in my childhood bedroom with a newborn.

Aizawa, out of the blue, presented the possibility of a marriage between us. He would pay for everything. The medical bills, food, car payments, baby supplies— all I had to do was manage the house staff: sign off on repairs, oversee their daily tasks, and inform him of anything out of the ordinary. He was basically paying me to be a housewife, without the strenuous duties of cooking, cleaning, and tending to the kids. Plus, Aizawa suggested I get a night nanny so I could rest a little better.

The deal sounded a little too good to be true. But, given the two years we spent working together, I knew he was trustworthy. I took the leap and ended up living an absolute fairytale life for the past 5 months. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Although, deep down, I wished we explored a little past our new normal.

Maybe even find ourselves entangled in the sheets and trying out all kinds of positions.

I’m pretty sure I can still get my leg over my head if I really tried. Giving him enough room to dig deep in me and rearrange my guts.

"You don't have to thank me every chance you get," a small smile stole his face. "In fact, I should be thanking you."

"Oh really?" 

The smile widened and the brunette adjusted his position in the chair. His arms crossed against his broad chest and the buttons strained from the action. The muscles in his forearms flexed underneath his rolled-up sleeves. His biceps bulged a little against the cotton fabric. The longer I looked at him the wetter I felt the seat of my panties become. If he kept being so absentmindedly attractive, I would soon find myself sprayed out on my bed, fingers probing my slick walls, wishing he were on top of me.

Damn, I have it bad.

“Y/N!” Aizawa said in a raised voice. 

I blinked several times and cleared my throat. “Y-Yes?”

“Are you sure you okay?” He asked, leaning forward. 

“Yeah! It’s just the. . . hormones!” I blustered. “You know, all those raging, sweaty hormones that make it hard for me to focus.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are sure it's only the hormones? And not some other factor?”

“Uh. . .” I stammered. 

Aizawa, suddenly, rose from his seat and walked around the round table. His eyes never left my face and a smirk was forming on his lips. He appeared next to me in an instant. He pressed one hand on the table and another on the back of my chair. Aizawa leaned forward until our faces were mere inches apart. 

“I heard you the other night,” he stated, a certain hunger in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I gulped.

“You cried out for me,” he said, plainly. “Begging me to. . . how did you say it? Oh! ‘Split you apart with my thick dick’.”

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. It had been the night he had come back from a run around the block. He was shirtless and the shorts were low on his hips. His sculpted v-line was on full display, along with his sensual muscles. He was breathing so heavily, panting and mewling from the strenuous exercise. He claimed to have “overdid” it this time. He ran at full speed for the last few blocks and all the way up our long driveway. His long hair was, again, pulled into a messy bun, highlighting his sharp jaw and rugged features. 

He looked so hot. So fuckable. I wanted to mount him like the stallion he was and ride him into the sunset. 

". . . Oh," I murmured, turning away from him.

"'Oh' is right," he chuckled. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were so loud and luscious that I couldn't help myself." Aizawa leaned forward, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "And saw you too. Your door was cracked open just for me to see."

Shivers ran down my spine and my womanhood throbbed. His hot breath was caressing my ear, whilst his mouth did the same. His body was so close, yet he wasn't laying a finger on me. The temptation was swiftly sending me over the edge. I hated the slow, seductive game he was playing. I knew the ending would not be in my favor. He wasn't the type of man to spread me open like a Thanksgiving feast, nor was he the type to treat me like an animal. He wanted me begging, weeping for his touch. Despite the rather x-rated thoughts running through my mind at the moment, I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to his game so easily. 

“Who knew you were such a little perv,” I giggled, lifting my mug to my lips. I took a small sip of the hot tea and hummed sweetly. “But, I guess, if I was holed up in my office for 40+ hours a week I’d be a little… frustrated as well.”

His fingertips brushed against my arms, tickling me the same way a feather would. “You are playing with fire, little wife.” Aizawa groaned and gripped the back of my chair. “Ever since that faithful night, I have not been able to think straight. Seeing your legs shake and your toes curl, while you work yourself with that sparkly pink toy—” He sucked in a breath and released the back of my chair. He pushed his body away from mine. 

Immediately, I rise to my feet and turn to face him. The brunette placed a significant distance between the both of us. His breath was labored and his hand was balled at his side. There was an oblong shape intensely prominent near the zipper of his slacks. The member was only semi-hard and I could already tell that was quite massive. Probably bigger that the sparkly pink dildo I had in my nightstand, certainly thicker that the toy as well. 

My assumption was right. 

He did have a long, thick dick.

“I like to think myself a patient man,” he started. “A respectable man. I tried my best to keep my distance from you and to give you all the space you need to grow. To heal from whatever happened before our union. I never wanted to force myself or my desires onto you. I never wanted you to think you owed me anything because we were simply married and living together." Aizawa’s brown eyes bore into mine, just as the morning light gracefully captured his face. It gave him an ethereal glow. Made him look even more beautiful that he already was. “I promised myself that I would not touch you or make any advances toward you until I have obtained your explicit consent. However, being near you, feeling your luxurious presence and capturing your delicious scent, while trying not to press my mouth against that gummy pussy is pure agony. ”

Aizawa was so eloquent with how he spoke, sounding like a pure gentleman. Up until that last bit. 

“So, from what you’re saying,” I said, tilting my head to the side a little bit. “The beloved prince charming I married 5 months ago is gone? And he was preplaced by a horny, insatiable beast?”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “That’s not exactly true, princess. Charming was always a beast, at least during the night. It took a very special lady to set him straight by morning.”

I hummed once more and pulled my braids into a messy bun. I hiked up my dress and gave him a smile. “Where is the closest soundproof room in the house?”

“A few doors down,” he replied. “It’s the library.”

I took off in a swift jog toward the room, turning my head back to say “You can’t catch me, you fearsome beast.”

His laughter was explosive. “Are we roleplaying, princess?” Aizawa shouted after me.

I was already halfway down the hall, the double doors of the library were swiftly approaching. “Only if you want to,” I shouted back. 

“You cannot hide from me, young damsel!” He boasted, as heavily footsteps came stomping my way. “I will capture you one way or another!”

I giggled at the sound of his “beastly” voice and proceeded to quicken my pace. “Please do not harm me, furocious beast. For I am innocent in this matter.”

I have no idea what possessed me to put on this whole act.  Maybe I was watching too much Bridgerton or reading entirely too much erotica, but the idea of being chased by a massive man, just to be savagely fucked in the library was exhilarating. The book nerd in me was jumping with joy.

I pushed through the library doors and sped over to the nearest flat surface. A wide table with several wooden chairs surrounding it. I shoved the chairs aside and hopped right on the table. Anticipation ran through my veins. The big, hulking man burst through the room with a loud grunt. The smile on his face was undeniable. My little charade had done its job perfectly: it had taken us out of earshot of the bustling maids in the house and eased the thick tension between us. Aizawa’s playful mood was igniting something within me. Something I didn’t recognize. It had been a while since I had seen him actually enjoy himself. His smile was so wide and genuine that I thought he was a different person.

Not the stressed-out, sleep-deprived spouse that I often avoided.

But the bubbly, fun husband that I always wanted.

His immediate acceptance and active participation in my game showed me that there was a chance. A chance for us to have a real, authentic marriage. A union where we love and cherish each other.  One where I didn't have to question whether or not he felt the same way.

“Sweet, delicate princess,” Aizawa groaned, inching close to me. “Please allow me the opportunity to voice my desires without prejudice or ridicule.”

I looked away from his face for a moment and tapped my chin. “Fine, you may.”

“I want you. In every way possible,” he confessed, closing the distance between us. “I have wanted you from the sheer moment you opened your heart to me. From the moment you started staying up a little late to have dinner with me, or when you made it a point to pack me lunch on a particularly long day. When you made Sunday nights my favorite time of the week and got me addicted to Outlander.”

“Since when were you into Outlander?” I asked in disbelief,

“Since you started screaming at the TV, cursing out Sir Jack Randal,” Aizawa chuckled. “I never heard you use so many curses in a single sentence.”

“I still can’t believe he did that to Jamie,” I grimaced.

Aizawa nodded in agreement but carried on with his statement. “You have been the object of my desires and the capturer of my heart for months now. I go to sleep dreaming of your big brown eyes and beautiful smile. I hear your sweet voice in my mind all day long and wish I could spend every moment with you.”

I reached out to grab his hands, which he gladly handed to me. I brought them to my thighs and allowed them to hike up my skirt. The beige fabric lifted from its place at my ankles and exposed the bronze skin underneath. Aizawa settled at the small space between my thighs and gently placed his hands at my sides. His brown eyes bore into mine. The older man looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. Like nothing else mattered but us at this exact moment. His gaze was so pure I could almost cry on the spot. 

I hooked my arms around his neck and started to lean closer to him. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips slightly parted. He captured my mouth moments later and his arms swiftly wrapped around my plum form. Aizawa moaned against my lips as if marveling at the sensation. His mouth danced across mine gracefully, following my lead and patiently waiting for the next step. 

My hands were in his hair and my thighs rested against his hips. I gently rolled my damn center over his semi-hard front. The lust was quickly growing the long he kissed me and soon I  wouldn't be able to contain it. The confession had provided me with all the information I needed— our feelings were mutual. He wanted to give this fake marriage some authenticity and turn it into a real one. I was beyond excited.

I tore my lips away from his searing embrace and whimpered as he dragged a tongue along the side of my neck. 

"Take me," I gasped, clawing at his back. "Right here. Right now."

The brunette lifted his head from my neck and immediately started fumbling with the buttons on my blouse. Seconds later, he exposed the lacy number underneath and growled at the sight. His skilled fingers undid the finicky clasp in the back, exposing the plump mounds to his eager eyes. 

"Your breasts are so full and round," Aizawa groaned.

His thumbs gently ran across the pebbled nipples and a hiss left my lips. 

The older male immediately paused his actions. "Did I hurt you,  princess?" 

A blush flickered on my cheeks as I sheepishly looked away. "No. . . They're just really sensitive."

"Well, I'll try to be more careful with them," he stated, lowering his body until his face was directly staring at the bosoms. 

His hot tongue tenderly flicked the right nipple several times before giving it a long seductive lick. Shivers ran down my spine as he kept giving sloppy kisses to the sensitive bud. The seat of my panties was drenched. My arousal practically glued them to my lower lips. My legs were vibrating with anticipation. The hot mouth moved over to the left nipple and I thought I ascended to heaven. Aizawa moaned as he sucked on the breast. He was enjoying the lewd act and it was intriguing to see. 

He released the bud and a long string of drool connected the two as he pulled away. He brought his lips to mine and gave me a mind-numbing kiss. His fingers dipped between my thighs as we made out. He pressed two fingers against the wet area and started to rub small circles right at the top of the slit. My poor clit was already throbbing from the foreplay and it seemed to pulse after that action. I moaned against his lips and pulled away. The area was so wet and sensitive that I knew it wouldn't take long to push me over the edge. Especially after he gave my nipples such delicate care. 

"What a cute face my little princess is making," he purred, pressing his forehead to mine. "Looks like she wants to cum."

I nodded, keeping direct eye contact with the seductive man. "I do, you beast. I want to cum all over your pretty cock and gorgeous face. Will you let me?"

The older man groaned and removed his hand from my panties. "Coming on my face is just gonna have to wait until our next rendezvous. I'm afraid if I don't slip into that dripping wet pussy I'm gonna burst. And we wouldn't want that, right?" 

"We sure wouldn't," I said absentmindedly rubbing my baby bump. 

Aizawa smirked before slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. He threw the cotton garment aside before fiddling with his belt. His eyes never left my face and that seemed to make his actions even hotter. He pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift motion; leaving the thick, long member to spring free. 

My eyes widened at the sight. He was certainly bigger than I imagined. Definitely bigger than my ex, who could barely last 5 minutes without busting. Aizawa was indeed a patient man, a kind man. That was the only reason I could gather for why God would bless him with such a beast. Maybe I too was God's favorite, since he allowed me to marry such a good man. 

Not only was he fine as hell, tall and rich— his dick was big. I had no doubt I had hit the lottery in the husband department. 

"Are you okay, princess?" He asked. "Would you like to take a breather?"

"I breathed enough," I shot back. "Come take these panties off and pound me with your long, thick dick." 

Aizawa chuckled and hooked his thumbs under my waistband. He pulled the cotton panties down my plump legs and tossed them to the side. He aligned the head of his cock with my womanhood and just before easing himself in, Aizawa paused and gave me a final look, as if to ask me ‘are you sure?” I nodded immediately and widened my thighs a little bit more. The thick member sunk right into me with little resistance, on account of how wet my womanhood was. Pregnancy amplified all my bodily functions to the hundredth degree, including how soiled my underwear became anytime I saw something that appealed to me. Or, anytime I saw my husband.

The brunette helped me lay flat on my back against the table and adjusted the position of my legs. He hooked my limbs over his forearms and continued to push into me. I gasped when every inch was nestled into my greedy pussy and my eyes fluttered closed. I placed one hand above my head, gripping the edge of the table and the other underneath my belly. I braced myself for impact. Aizawa started off slow, rolling his hips against my pelvis gently. I could feel every inch inside of me. The slow thrusts softly pushed against my sensitive spots, causing me to squirm and wiggle underneath him. 

"Can I move a little faster, princess?" He grunted, tilting his hips a little bit. 

"Please move faster, beast," I panted, digging my nails into the table. "I cannot take this teasing any longer." 

Aizawa took a firm hold of the table and chuckled quietly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

 The older man’s hips gradually began moving faster against mine. At first, my little mewls remained relatively uninterrupted by the change. I pretended to be disinterested in the movements, rolling my eyes and telling him to move faster. To fuck me harder. Informing him that I was displeased by his treatment, Aizawa’s persistent behavior of treating me like a delicate flower was starting to frustrate me. I was a woman above anything else. This pregnancy had almost everyone in my everyday life view me as fragile. Something that could easily be broken with little force and it struck anger in my being. Since my body is sturdy enough to grow an entire human being, I was pretty sure it was strong enough to handle some power thrusts from a man.

“Come on, beast,” I teased, a smile kissing my teeth. “Don’t tell me this is all could do? Some half-hearted pumps and expected me to be satisfied? I thought you were more of a savage than this.”

Without a word, Aizawa started to snap his hips against mine harshly. A good portion of his force was colliding with my body and it made my heart sing. My breath was caught in my throat and my legs started to tremble. I rested my body on my elbows and looked into his dark eyes. He was already looking at my face. The smile on his lips was stirring something within me. Almost like he knew I wouldn’t last long or I couldn’t handle the power of his thrusts. There were two words lingering on his tongue that I was dying to hear him say. Something that would definitely send me over the edge.

The man towering over me tilted his hips once more and a squeal shot out of my mouth. My back fell right back onto the table and I raised both arms above my head to grip the edge. The plush head of the cock was hammering the underside of my cervix, a very sensitive area deep within my cunt. My body started to tremble in response and my breathing became hollow. Pressure started to build in my abdomen and a pool started to form. My walls started to pulse against his massive cock and I couldn’t string together a single thought. My body started to tingle and my mind started to blur. Drool spilled from my lips as my eyes started to roll back. 

The orgasm was slow, deep, and damning. My body twisted and contoured into various weird positions as I rode the hot wave. I said my husband’s name like a prayer, chanting it over and over again. I begged him not to stop, to keep going, to take me to heaven. And he did just that. Aizawa kept his hard, sharp pace. He continued to drill that girthy dick into my snatch like he became addicted to the feeling. My body completely succumbed to the pleasure, not wanting to do anything else but relish in it. It wasn’t long before another orgasm began to build and my legs started to tremble all over again. 

“Fuck!” I cried, arching my back against the table. 

“Come on, princess,” Aizawa cooed. “Give beasty another one. I know you have it in you.”

The older man’s hips started to sputter and twitch, indicating to me that he was next to reach his peak. But, like the respectable man he was, Aizawa continued his sickening pace. Eventually, my eyes gradually opened and I took in the scene before me. A hulking man with rippling muscles and a gorgeous face was looming over me. Drilling his cock in me at a record pace with a smile on his face. He held my legs nice and wide in a seductive ‘v’. He was watching my every expression, movement and taking in my sounds. Aizawa was fully invested in pleasuring my horny, pregnant self and I was grateful. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to feel the weight on his body forever. I never wanted to part from him. I needed to be with him as long as humanly possible.

The second orgasm was harder than the last. It tore through me like lightning and forced my toes to curl. My eyes were wide open for this one. I watched Aizawa lean forward and gather me desperately. He held me close and proceeded to rut into my creamy pussy. He pressed his hot mouth to mine while his hips trembled and spasmed. His head fell on my shoulder when the pleasure became too great and he couldn’t hold out any longer. Hot cum shot into my awaiting womb, gradually filling me to the brim. Aizawa’s slow and rhythmic thrusts made the feeling even more sensual. It was as if he was fucking the semen into me, hoping to make me pregnant all over again. 

I never thought I’d have a breeding kink, but his actions convinced me otherwise.

Soon, it was nothing but our labored breathing filling the library. Our bodies were still one and his chest was still pressed against mine. My fingers were slowly running through his hair while his arms were tightly wrapped around my back. It seemed like the older gentleman had no intention of letting me, even though we were both sweaty and panting. It made me feel special.

“Is this okay?” He asked, breaking the silence. “Me holding you like this?”

“It’s fine,” I replied with a sigh. 

“Okay. Just let me know if I am crushing you or the baby.” 

“Alright, Aizawa,” I giggled.

Suddenly, he lifted his head from my shoulder and pressed his forehead against mine. 

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, princess,” he acknowledged. “I am your husband, not some stranger on the street.”

“Than what am I supposed to call you then?”

He thought for a moment. “I think Shota would be fitting.”

“Shota?”

“And Beast/Charming on special occasions,” he said with a wink.

----------

a/n: there are hints in the story letting you know what kind of fic I'll be posting next. let's see who can guess it before sunday.

Also, a little update, I will be posting FULL SMUT SCENES from this point forward. So get ready for 2k - 4k worth of filth. Good luck going to sleep at night.

Finally, let me know if you would like to be added to my official taglist. I will be alerting you everytime I upload!

bye for now!

[panlight]

I feel there's just so much wrong with the entire imprinting concept in the Twilight books.

The concept of never being able to say no or essentially make your own decisions because of the girl/whoever you imprinted almost sounds like a romanticized version of domestic abuse. Google describes it as "pattern incidents of controlling, coercive, degrading and violent behavior, etc". Now the threatening wouldn't be necessary because they literally don't have any choice or say in the matter. The entire idea of obsession and doing whatever pleases the person I've imprinted on sounds degrading, that you're now longer you're own person capable of making you're own choices. I find this ironic because SM literally tells us the underlying theme of these books is about choice. None of the wolves have a choice. They didn't choose to be wolves (shape shifters), they don't choose who they imprint on and they definitely don't choose what they get to do after imprinting. Did SM find it all romantic? Because everytime it's mentioned it just gives me the ick. The wolves are my favorite characters in the books and seeing them being forced into all this is so annoyinggg! They deserved SO much better.

Also, it shocks me that after all the success SM gained from tts that she didn't donate a penny to the Quileute tribe. It's super disappointing.

Oh, yeah, with you 100% on imprinting. I've never found it romantic. It reads as straight-up horror to me. Who even ARE you if you don't have free will? If you have to be whatever someone else needs? And beyond that it just feels fake and empty to me. Sam loved Leah. When he had a choice, he chose Leah. Magic overruled him and picked Emily instead. Why am I supposed to think his love for Emily is the 'real' love?

I get that the fantasy is supposed to be from the imprintee's POV, the fantasy of having this guy who is 100000% devoted to you, will never leave you, you never have to worry about cheating, he is there for you and will do whatever you want or need him to do. But that's not . . . that's not like a person who loves you, that's like a robot programmed to fulfill your wishes. For me, there's no real love without choice. This dude isn't choosing to show up for you every day if he has no other choice. It feels fake and arbitrary. Like a love potion, like Cupid's arrow.

And hell yes, the lack of choice with the wolves is a pattern and a really unsettling one given that she chose to make these characters Indigenous and tie their wolf-ness to that identity. They don't get to choose to be wolves, they don't get to choose who they love, within those relationships they have no agency and have to be/do whatever their partner wants, and then there's also the Alpha Order! They can literally be forced to obey, no choice there either. Again, this is straight up horror stuff. Loss of free will, loss of identity. That whole passage when Jacob imprints on Nessie is the stuff of nightmares to me. Everything that Jacob cared about, everything that made him who he was, is cut away and he is bound to a half-vampire baby instead. And now he has to keep phasing forever to stay immortal with her. To paraphrase Rosalie: this isn't the life he would have chosen for himself.

There are ways in which Twilight vampires get a raw deal too (when I'm sick and have a sore throat it's like, the Worst, so dealing with that forever and on a supernatural scale sounds horrific) but they still have CHOICES. Carlisle had the free will and agency to run to the forest and starve himself as a newborn. Rosalie had the will to kill her attackers without drinking their blood. Edward chose to leave Bella for a time when we're told Jacob spending any real time away from Nessie would be impossible because of the imprint. The vampires may have to FIGHT their nature sometimes, but SM lets them win more often than not. Carlisle can be a doctor; the Denali sisters can sleep with humans; Edward can resist Bella's blood; Bella can be the best newborn ever and not kill her dad. But the only time a shifter character is allowed to fight his nature is when Jacob defies Sam to break off and form his own pack, and that's only because of the loophole that Jacob was himself the rightful alpha. No one else has that option. Leah has to choose between allowing Sam or Jake to have alpha power over her.

Which is all why I thought Jacob's whole thing would be fighting an imprint. It would be so in character for him and such a good parallel to the vegetarian vampires fighting their thirst. I wanted to see Jacob say 'no, I don't care what destiny says, I will make my own path.' And you know if SM had had him imprint on literally anyone BUT Nessie or Bella she would have written about him fighting it! It would have been so cool! But no, because ultimately this is Bella's fantasy life, and part of her happily ever after is keeping Jacob around literally forever even though HE wouldn't have chosen an immortal life with the Cullens like Bella did.

[vibratingskull]

Hello! I really enjoy your writings, the way you write Thrawn in some settings can be so wholesome and sweet and I really love seeing the character in that kind of light. Especially the aroace one and when he’s with the different families you gave him, regardless of how old the kids are or what their dynamic is.

For your requests, do you think you could write Thrawn holding his firstborn child for the first time? I think it’d be interesting and sweet to see him get kinda nervous about the prospect of finally meeting them before his heart fills with so much love upon seeing his baby and being so happy for the finally he now has.

Hope you’re having a wonderful day and that you have fun with all your requests coming in ❤️

art by @blackmonitor

Edit cause i forgot the top message:

Everytime someone ask me about Aroace Thrawn I gain 1+ year in my lifespan! Dad!Thrawn is also so important to me, it is kind off pathetic of me. I'm very glad you like my soft, fluff stories about him, he truly deserves the world and a family that loves him unconditionnaly! Have a great day too my sweet ❤️

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags: Dad!Thrawn, premature baby, skin to skin, father baby connection, soft dad Thrawn

Thrawn caresses your temple with his knuckles, silently looking at you taking a nap. It has been long and torturous but you did it! Against all odds and predictions, you actually did it. It was difficult, dangerous for you and the baby, and they came out premature, but you did it! 

Oh brave you. 

Oh warrior you. 

He feels so grateful for you giving birth to your baby. He held your hand during the entire process, hugging your shoulders as you pushed hard, losing your blood and your sanity in the pain. But you persevered and delivered your newborn despite all the complications due to you two being different species. 

Right now your baby is between the hands of the medics, leaving you two to breathe and trying to relax. You didn't even have time to take your newborn in your arms, the medics immediately took them. 

You both knew the risks of having a hybrid baby, but you both hoped to have at least the time to take a look at them before they got taken away. But their health signals ordered the medics to put them in urgent care immediately. 

So Thrawn spent the last three hours with you, trying to ease your worries and looking over you napping. Your labor was so intense and painful tiredness took precedence over your fear and you ended up sleeping, too exhausted after such a trial. 

He looks at you, full of love and admiration. Since Bridger captured the Chimaera to bring her to Peridea, morphine stocks are rare and sparse. He wished he could have given you some but you refused when the droid proposed it. You refused to have the comfort of painkillers when they could be used to mend the wounds of your troops on the battlefield. He tried to convince you that you had the right, days before labor started but you were adamant! You wanted to set an example as his wife and Commander. 

You chose the way of pain to give life to the most perfect being in the Universe, the love of his life, the light of his days. And for that his gratitude is infinite. 

“Grand Admiral?” The careful voice of his head doctor raises in his back, snatching him off his contemplation of your sleeping form, “We just finished. Do you wish to see them?” 

Thrawns contemplates them up and down in silence before leaning forward, gently kissing your forehead. He pulls the cover over you and straightens his back before turning towards his medic. 

“Lead the way.” He placidly responds. 

After three long hours of uncertainty, the doctor appears a bit unsure but nothing in their demeanor indicates any high-stress level, Thrawn concludes that whatever medical procedures your baby needed, they have been able to deliver. 

As they silently walk Thrawn’s mind starts asking…weird questions. 

Was it painful for the baby ? 

Did they feel scared ? 

Did they cry for their mother, powerless as they were manipulated by strangers ? 

Did they feel cold at any moment ? 

Did they try to reach for any of you two with their little hands only to meet the void ? 

“Here we are, Grand Admiral.” 

Thrawn stops before the door… terrified. What if… the medics failed ? He doesn't read any bodily signs typical of tension in them but is he himself in the right mindset to read them after such a hard birth and pregnancy ?  

“How are they ?” He demands, imperial, never letting any doubts or fear slip through in his demeanor as he knows so well. 

He internally prays to have read them correctly. The head medic looks at him, their lips in a thin line, searching for their words. 

“Authorization to speak freely ?” 

Thrawn nods, his expression closed off and unreadable. 

“It wasn't pretty. To be frank, your baby is a miracle survivor, we are not equipped properly for babies’ care and health monitoring, but I also notified you of the risks of giving birth to a hybrid.” 

Thrawn ever so slightly squints, a subtle threat and call to order. The doctor decides to cut the story short. 

“You are incredibly lucky Grand Admiral, truly. I don't know if we would be able to repeat this feat for a second baby, especially stranded on this wretched planet.” the doc extends his hand towards the open room  “They are sleeping.” 

Thrawn considers the open door and wonders for a second if he has the strength to walk into the room before getting a grip. 

Of course, none of his turmoil is visible, and his hesitation lasts less than a second. He walks into the little room, a former waiting area reconverted into a nursery. 

It’s not perfect, no battleships ever saw a nursery before. They had to do with what they had to accommodate new life on Peridea. He advances towards the bassinet, perceiving the heat signals through the material. 

He, oh so slowly, approaches the little form lying under a blanket. He feels like his heart is going to explode under the pressure.  

They are blue ! 

Just like him. 

But they have your hair color and your nose The cheekbones and forehead bumps are unmistakably his.  

He leans forward to observe better. 

He never witnessed such… perfection before. This is simply the most beautiful being to ever exist in the cosmos. The perfect mix of their father and mother. 

His heart bleeds at the nodes of the different monitors over their body and the tubes through their little nose, but it must be down to unsure their survival. 

“They are stable now, but they will need to remain for some time.” The medic explains, coming behind their Grand Admiral. 

Thrawn tilts his head, his eyes never leaving the baby, looking at them moving in their sleep, eyes closed shut. Inadvertently, he feels his hands clasped behind his back starting to tremble. He isn’t even touching them but he fears to hurt them in any way. 

They are just so small. 

And him so big... 

What if he causes pain to his baby by trying to hold them? What if he hurt them more than they are already wounded? He could never forgive himself. Maybe it is better if he abstains from any physical contact. 

Yes. 

That is for the best. 

“What gender are they?” He asks without lifting his gaze from this absolute perfection. 

“It is a brave little girl.” The medic explains, a small voice audible in their voice, “My congratulations, Grand Admiral.” 

His heart skips a beat. 

A little girl? 

Just as he so dear hoped. He always desired a daughter. You were neutral on the question but he knew deep down that he was meant to father a little girl. 

And there she is! 

His little warrior... 

“A daughter...” He repeats like he has difficulties realizing his chance. 

The baby seems to react and agitate herself in the incubator. 

“She recognizes your voice. You should try and hold her, she needs comfort after this... trial.” The medic explains. 

Thrawn smiles, his expression hidden from the doctor. She recognizes his voice... 

The voice of her father. 

He spent so much time talking to your bump during those seven months of pregnancy, in hopes the baby would be able to recognize him and associate him with safety and comfort. 

His heart clenches knowing he succeeded. 

He tentatively enters the incubator with his large hand and very delicately caresses his daughter’s cheek with his knuckle. 

She is so warm. 

Like a Chiss. 

She seems to yawn and tries to seize his large finger in her tiny fist, desperately longing for some warmth too. His hands travel to her tummy and gently brush it. 

Warrior... She is so small compared to him, that he feels he could crush her in his fist. That thought distraught him so terribly that he stops his caress, much to his daughter’s dismay who lets out a whine escape her. 

“Take her in your arms. The first hours are important for a baby’s general well-being.” 

“Leave us alone, please.” Thrawn orders nonchalantly, hiding his worries from view. 

Once the medic leaves, he carries a chair closer to the crib and gets rid of his white jacket and black tank shirt to very tenderly seize his daughter. He takes care of holding her fragile head correctly and supporting her body, not pulling off the nodes of the monitors, and sits down on the chair, pressing his baby girl against his warm Chiss skin, in a soothing skin-to-skin contact. 

Maker she is so light and fragile... He suddenly feels so terribly clumsy with such a precious package in his hands. 

She babbles in her sleep, agitating herself in his hands. She holds her tight to not risk dropping her, pressing her soft precious body against his beating heart.  

It feels good. 

It feels right. 

He instantly feels a new connection forming between himself and his baby. She seems to try and get a grip on him, to hold him close, to keep the warmth source against her sensitive baby skin. 

“Hello, little one.” He speaks softly with his deep melodious voice. 

A sound that seems to please her immensely because she seems to try to smile despite all her tubes. He delicately cradles her. 

“You scared us immensely, you know? But here you are, at last... My baby.” 

Thrawn isn’t a man prone to sentimentalism, but in the intimacy of the hug, he can’t help himself. He needs to whisper sweet nothing to his baby, deepening the connection further. 

“You are already so loved, little one. We dreamed for your arrival for years. Ch’eo k’eten, ch’eo euhn ch'etecerci.”  

The baby presses her cheek against his peck, letting herself sooth by her father’s heartbeat. She appears so appeased right now, sleeping soundly in his arms. At her true place. 

“My pride, my jewel...” 

He gently lifts her higher for her little head to rest in the crook of his neck, inhaling her scent. It is pleasant and relaxing, almost familiar like a song he had known for years. 

He sighs. 

Soon his shift will resume. And he will have to leave you both behind in the med bay to ensure the Chimaera’s safety. 

But for now, he will indulge as much as he can. He also hopes to be present for your first meeting with her, he longs to see your elated expression when he will bring your your firstborn. 

“Welcome to the world, little Thashao. I vow to protect you from any harm, my sweet, my treasure...” 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

[quitealotofsodapop]

I dont remember if i sent an adk about this before so sorry if duicated

I can imagine Iron Fan being the one to explain to DBK that Wukong is, technically, both his sworn brother and her spiritual nephew and how they came to discover this.

Tieshan, on the way to the Celestial Realm: My love, you remember how I had explained the matter of reincarnation and how it relates to succession in the Celestial Court, correct?

DBK: Indeed, but what does that have to do with Wukong suddenly being a Celestial Prince!?

Tieshan: After the birth of his cub, we made a rather... startling discovery in regards to his bloodline. It appears that not only had Sun Wukong been born in a similar manner that his darling cub had come to us, albeit with the more tragic outcome you had feared for him... but his birth parent had been, well, the first reincarnation of my late sister Songzi.

DBK: Songzi!? But wasn't she the-

Tieshan: The eldest of us, yes. This means that by law, Wukong and his cub are immediately raised in status to become the firstborn heir and successor to my father with newborn Xiaotian as second in line. Thus, he is a part of our family both by bond and by blood, so to speak, at least.

Prev.

dont worry! I recieved it! Adding on here since I love the dialogue you added.

DBK is having a weird resurrection.

DBK: "I never thought I would be on polite terms with my wife's parents after so many years of animosity. I apologise for any damage my actions during the War caused." Xiwangmu: "I royally decree you permission to wreck the Jade Palace." DBK: "Oh word?"

Turns out Tieshan is a lot like her dear Jade dad - being attracted to a fiery destructive entity that towers over them.

DBK doesn't charge in blindly though, he sticks around to devise a plan. The Brotherhood will be heavily focused on his return, given that he's by all accounts "dead" to them. If he could manage a peaceful reunion, he could sneak some of the others inside the palace. A Trojan Bull if it were. >:3

DBK also feels validated by his worry, knowing that Wukong's own mother Shíhuā had passed from complications bringing her son into the world. He is overwhelmingly relieved that Wukong is alive and ok, albeit sickly. Also DBK is low-key cheering at being an uncle. When he finally meets Xiaotian, he starts blubbering at how tiny the monkey cub is, and how even still it nearly managed to defeat his xiandi.

Eventually, Red Son gets jealous/protective of the baby and headbutts DBK as hard as he could. DBK is now roaring with laughter and happy tears, pretending he's been wounded terribly by his calf's nubby horns.

Princess Iron Fan smiles. Her family is finally whole again.

[icycoldninja]

here is an idea: DMC 3 Dante x Fem hunter reader where they are dating/demon hunting partners, she falls pregnant and dose not know until when she is on a mission and she goes into labor meaning her BF (Dante) needs to deliver there baby and comfert her (example: calling her a good girl and praising her) away from the demons

OK first of all let me just say something real quick--there is physically, scientifically, and biologically no way you can get pregnant and be completely oblivious about it until labor. What about missing your period? What about hormonal and weight changes? What about pains, aches, and cramps? What about the extremely noticeable tummy growth? This whole thing is gonna be ridiculously illogical, but I'll still do it. Enjoy. 💜

Sudden labor (DMC3! Dante X Fem!Pregnant!Reader)

You and Dante had been dating for a few years now, being loyal partners both in regards to your relationship and to your job. You hunted demons together by day and passionately made love to one another by night.

One day you two sent out together on a mission to exterminate a massive clan of demons that had taken a liking to a particular forest not too far from a moderately populated city. You and Dante were doing just fine at first, relentlessly chopping down and shooting holes through creatures without end. Everything was going perfectly well, until suddenly, you felt a sudden and sharp pain shoot through your stomach. It wasn't a stomachache, it wasn't period cramps, it wasn't like anything you'd ever experienced before. It was so painful, it brought you to your knees. You dropped your weapons, collapsing onto the ground, crying out in pain. Dante heard you, and fearing that you'd gotten attacked, rushed to your side in an instant.

"Babe, what's going on? You alright?" He asked, worriedly.

"I--I don't know! It hurts...everything hurts!" You suddenly became aware of something runny trickling down your legs, and you looked down, only to find a mixture of blood and other fluids leaking out of your privates. "What the hell?!" You shrieked, fearfully. "What's happening to me?!"

"It looks like you're in labor!" Dante screamed. "How did--?! What--?! How the hell is this possible?! How come we didn't realize you were pregnant before?!"

"I don't know!" You replied, panting heavily. "What do we do?!" Dante answered you by scooping you up and carrying you to a location far, far away from the (slowly dying) demons and carefully set you on the ground. After removing your bottoms and taking a quick glance at your contracting vagina, he realized there was no time to get you to a hospital. You'd have to give birth here.

"OK," Dante began, taking deep breaths. "Uhh...push. Yeah, push. That's how you deliver a baby, right? Push!" You nodded, and though the pain was intense, you grit your teeth and pushed through as hard as you could.

"Good job," Dante encouraged, patting your shoulder with trembling hands. "You're doing great. Keep going. Stay strong. You're ok. Good girl--you're doing alright. Keep pushing." You could tell by his frantic, stammering speech that Dante was just as terrified and anxious as you were, given the sudden nature of all this, but he did his best to stay calm and collected so you could have someone to lean on.

Confused, frightened, and in so much pain, you continued pushing hard, and eventually heard a hollow pop, followed by a small cry.

"Oh my God!" Dante shouted, diving down to scoop up the baby that had just slid out of your uterus. "You did it, babe! You--you gave birth! You gave birth!" You let out an exhausted chuckle, flopping back against the ground with a sigh. Your newborn baby cried and failed about in Dante's arms, making him smile. Even though it was under really strange circumstances, you two now had a baby! Hooray!

"Is...is it a boy or a girl?" You asked, gratefully sucking in deep breaths of air.

"Y'know what?" Dante replied, sounding unsure. "I have no freaking clue. Let's go to the hospital and ask the doctors."

[steviewashere]

I'm Going to Hold My Breath, Maybe I'll Be Liked Then

Rating: General WC: 10,702 CW: Health Issues in a Newborn (Beginning), Childbirth (Beginning), Panic Attacks Characters: Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington's Mother, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Other Characters Mentioned Relationships: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Mother, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Tags: Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Robin Buckley is a Little Shit, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Character Study (of sorts), Being Yourself, Happy Ending, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues

Originally Posted on Ao3: Link Here!

This is a long one, buckle up. An oldie, but a goodie.

💕—————💕

Steven Otis Harrington is born on Wednesday, February 22nd, 1967. He's birthed into a family of bulk-handed, cold-gazed, yet warm-blooded, ambitious, headstrong men. His mom though is a gentle human being, or at least however gentle her husband allows her to be. She's taught to coddle Steven until he's eleven years old. She's told to read him bedtime stories, but ones that would enable him to go after manageable dreams, not long-winded ones. She's given the option of harboring a crybaby or a man who will make people cry over the loss of him.

Steven Otis Harrington is born on a hump day. He's born slick and olive toned. He's born with all his fingers and all his toes. He's born with a straight spine, huge beating heart, and bigger soul.

Steven is born not crying.

Steve, as his mom calls him when he is taken from her, is born with fluid in his nose and at the back of his throat. And all his mom can do in that moment, is let men--who she hardly knows and trusts--take her baby, clean his nostrils, and pray to a benevolent God for "this boy to breathe and shiver." She cries so hard she has to puke. She tries to move to sit upright, but is promptly brought back down by the weight of gravity. She is covered in her own amniotic fluid and blood and the sheer force of want, the kind of force that elicits her baby to live.

Because all Mrs. Harrington has wanted since she was a little girl, was a son to dress up in little striped polos, straight leg jeans, and dark green sweatshirts. Who she kisses on the forehead. Who she cuts hair from. She has wanted a son that she can pour glasses of lemonade for, make soup for, and teach to swim. And she will fight God himself for this chance. If, in these terrifying few moments of no baby on her chest, she has to go to God himself and fistfight with the swing of Muhammad Ali, she will. Whatever thing has to be done to be able to go home and lay her baby in the new bassinet her neighbor gifted, she will do it. Trust on her Catholic beliefs and years of reading the Bible, back to front. She will do it all for little Steve to return to her.

Mr. Harrington is frazzled, standing ramrod straight, and twitching his fingers to move and pull at his hair. He's not a comforting person. Won't ever be. But he forces one of his hands to drag across his wife's head. He sucks in his breath via his nostrils and feels guilty on several astronomical levels that he's allowed to do something so mundane in the face of what his son is struggling with. This day, this god awful hump day, this moment, is the last time he will feel guilty over one of his son's failures.

But today, Mr. Harrington pets his wife's hair, prays and curses under his breath, forces his breathing to remain stagnant, and sighs when Steven returns.

Steven Otis Harrington is eight pounds, three ounces. He's got a full head of blonde hair that will surely fade to something darker, like his mother's. Has the eyes of his father and the moles of his grandfather. But mostly, he is kind in the way he cuddles close to his mother's chest, puffing air onto her neck, and letting both his parents know: I'm okay. I'll always be okay.

———— It's February 21st, 1987. Nearly one year since Vecna was slaughtered by the hands of a fourteen year old girl, two pining fourteen year old boys, a brother and his ex-girlfriend and his best friend, a group of oddball nerds with the help of an ex-jock and a fiery horror enthusiast, two breakout Russian prisoners, hysterical mother and lover, and a man who's romantic love is placed on a bottle of christened vodka when he goes back home.

Steve Harrington, now edging on twenty with hair just past his collarbone and enough green and indigo and blue sweatshirts to clothe the military, is working what seems like an endless shift at Family Video. Did it seriously survive the damage done by Vecna? Yeah. And that's probably the worst part of the recovery battle. The idea that he now has to go back to work with scars littered over his torso and a pension for swallowing down his panic; until he's safely nestled in the break room with his head hanging between his knees. No more is Steve Harrington who flirts with the ladies.

Robin is stacking VHS tapes to pass the time. It would be better if she'd put those away, Steve thinks. He thinks best when it comes to work. Runs the store like his own army, maybe the amount of sweatshirts is kept for a reason. He's scanning tapes that were overdue and making sure they get back on inventory before heading off to the shelves.

The store is quiet. Other than the stack of tapes. Seriously Robin, quit it, Steve wants to snap. But, he doesn't want to cause an issue. He wants to keep his cool. Wants to be able to apologize rather than be petty. Because tomorrow is his birthday. And he's got plans. Which really just involve him and Robin, a couple of tapes, and some cheap enough Chinese takeout.

The store is quiet until a tape falls and Robin seems to have enough. She's never one for silence.

"I'm bored," she whines. Her body flops back onto the glass case at the counter. Shoes scrape against the carpet as her legs stretch to their full length.

In another life, Robin is taller than Steve and he's jealous of her long legs.

Her shoes are covered in homoerotic doodles and little sayings of she'll go down not only on people's sisters, but also their moms. The other day she whispered, "careful, I have a thing for moms. I'll fuck her," to a young man who had a large enough anger problem over the pricing of renting a tape, nearly enough to snap one in half. Nobody heard her. Except for Steve. And the insult was weird enough that he only raised an eyebrow, froze his hands in place where they were reshelving tapes, then just shrugged and went back to work.

"That sucks," he huffs back.

Her body suddenly flings upright. She tips slightly forward with wild eyes and a crinkle to her nose. "We should play a game!" She shrieks into the comfortable, customer free air.

"No. And besides, haven't you been doing that?" He throws a glance out of the corner of his eye. She deflates over his left shoulder.

"No," she tries to protest. Her body continues to wither until she's leaned over the glass counter, chin in left palm, positioned to continue any argument with Steve, and hair floating into her eyes. Steve only turns around, crosses his arms over his chest, and sends a pointed look her way. "Whatever," she grumbles.

They go back to their respective tasks. Well, Steve does. Robin pulls out a magazine and looks at all the pictures where she's perched behind the counter.

Two more hours go by where Robin goofs off, does the occasional task, and then goes back to whining to Steve about any and every problem she can think of. It starts with being bored. Then, that the candy bar she stole from the rack and didn't pay for is too sweet. She garbles out a strew of, "the movie you picked is boring," and "this actress is so hot Steve. So hot." But, it all comes to a head when she talks about Nancy.

Steve's known about her crush on his ex-girlfriend. He's promised that he isn't mad. Just curious. Has heard all about Nancy's soft hands and pretty blue eyes and "the way she held that shotgun...I was ready to fucking beg to be a bullet or something." To which he responded, "Robin. Please, kindly, shut the fuck up."

But today? It's less about how pretty Nancy is and more about, "she wants to hang out with me tomorrow."

"Oh?" Steve questions. Though, some part of his heart is crumbling. Because he was really looking forward to his birthday tomorrow. And Robin hung out with him last year. He wants to do the same.

"Yeah, oh," she sucks in a large enough breath to puff her chest and then her hands start to gesticulate. "Like, THE Nancy Wheeler wants to hang out with me. Me, this band nerd who used to hate her guts and now I'm worried that I'll spill my guts and then she'll know how I feel about her. And oh my god Steve, what if she already knows? What if she's asking me to come over to like eviscerate me or something? Oh, but what if she knows and wants to kiss me?! I've never kissed anybody before, she'll basically be kissing a wall. And I don't want to embarrass myself, especially not in front of badass Wheeler. And also, what if she wants to kiss me but also feels like it's too soon because her and Jonathan just broke things off? What if she admits to wanting to kiss me and then I let things wait for a bit, but then she finds somebody else?! I'll be heartbroken, Steve. Absolutely heartbroken. Oh this is so bad, so, so, so, so, s--"

"Robin, oh my god. If you say 'so' one more time, I'm going to duct tape your mouth shut," he lightly snaps. She stops talking and looks down at the carpet from where she's standing. Her toe scrapes the floor. "Just. Go over there. Hang out with her. She knows what she wants. And I know for a fact that you know what you want. Let things play out, man. Can't rush everything."

And for the first time in probably fifteen minutes, Robin's rambles have silenced. Completely. She doesn't move, doesn't go back to the magazine or stack of tapes, or the shitty movie Steve has picked out. Doesn't do anything.

Steve's worried for a couple minutes. Should I signal that Vecna is back? He thinks hysterically. I know her favorite song, but what if I sound like a Muppet trying to get her out? Oh god, Tammy Thompson is totally going to get her stuck with Vecna, shit! He panics.

"I just don't want her to hate me," she chokes out. Her voice is thick with emotion; clogging up her throat, clinging to her eyes, bubbling in her nose.

Immediately, Steve's shoulders slump from where they've risen to his ears. He breathes a sigh of relief and fills his lungs with an air of sadness that he's now privy to. This feeling that Robin is portraying, this fear, this worry--it's one Steve has been feeling since Eddie got out of the hospital in May of 1986. Pining, hesitation, self-consciousness; they're killers.

"Robs, she won't hate you. No matter what happens, alright? She wants you in her home. She wants to hang out with you. Whatever she decides to do, whatever she doesn't do, it's not because of you. I'm sure," he strides over to her side and forces her head to rest on his shoulder. "You'll be okay. She'll be okay too. You just won't know until you go over there, right?"

Robin nods. And that's the end of that conversation.

Steve almost thinks it's the end of all conversations for the day. It's twenty minutes away from closing time. No customers have wandered or called in in the last three hours. That is, until Family Video's phone starts to ring.

He sighs, something weary and drawn out. Definitely overdramatic. He picks up.

"Thank you for calling Family Video where we can fulfill all of your movie needs. This is Steve speaking, how may I help you?" He drones in the phone.

"Oh don't sound too excited to speak with me, Stevie," a familiar voice drawls over the phone.

Like the sun peeking through the rainclouds, Steve perks up. "Eddie! Hey man, what's up?" He asks with almost too much energy. He tries to slump back down to his bored position, but he's already too riled at just the mere prospect that Eddie is calling him at work. Robin hears him from where she's melted into the counter and is over at his side in an instant. She smirks when he looks over at her, so he tries to swat her away. To no avail.

"Just calling to see if you had a couple movies in. But, I wanted to get your input on them. Figure out which one I should watch," Eddie states.

"Sure, uh, are you sure you want my input? Kinda shitty at recommending movies, man," Steve stutters down the line.

"Yeah of course I want your opinion. The movies I'm deciding between are Back to the Future and Animal House. Now, I know that y'all may have Back to the Future, but I have Animal House taped here at home."

Steve goes silent for a few seconds. What a fucking toss-up, he muses. "Uh, those are some good picks. How can I decide? Which one do you want to watch?"

"Either," Eddie answers. "But...I could watch both. Awful lot of time spent watching movies though, I'd get bored," he mutters. "How about I propose something?"

Though Eddie isn't at the store, Steve nods. Then he remembers Eddie can't see him and sighs down the line, "yeah, go for it." Robin covers her mouth and starts to snicker. Steve swats at her arms again.

"What if, you come out to the Hideout tomorrow to watch Corroded Coffin perform? Not usually your scene, I get it, but you could show up, get a Coke and some chips. Watch me perform, then I'll follow you back to your house and we watch these movies and I bring some beer. Of course, since I can't get that legally, it's sort of a gift from Wayne. That sound cool to you?"

He can't contain his excitement when he squeaks down the line, "yeah! That sounds awesome!" He wants to retreat for the way he shouted down the line, but why should he? Robin has plans with Nancy tomorrow, so otherwise, Steve would've been left alone in his big house. He would've opened his mailbox to a card with loopy, cursive handwriting from his mom and then slid it in the back of a dresser drawer, never again seeing the light of day.

"Cool. Great. You pick up Back to the Future and I'll see you tomorrow at 6:30?" Eddie questions.

"Yup," Steve replies. They say their goodbyes and then the phone is being placed in its cradle. He wants to run up and down the aisles, jump on the balls of his feet, kick the air, and scream at the top of his lungs. "I get to hangout with Eddie tomorrow!" He shares with Robin.

She cackles at his excitement and they discuss Steve's birthday plans.

Maybe his twentieth won't suck after all...

———— That statement quickly gets doused the moment the 22nd arrives.

So, it's February 22nd, 1987. Steve, not Steven, is awoken very rudely at seven thirty in the morning. His doorbell is rung five times in quick succession, enough for him to worry about it being broken if the ringing goes on any longer.

He pulls on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt and stomps down the stairs. The left part of the front door swings wide open when he rips it from the jamb.

There, on his front porch, is Robin. She's dressed in cuffed suit pants, her super homosexual Converse, a nice plaid button-up tucked into the pants, and enough jewelry to open her own store. There's also an ominous, large duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

"Oh my god! Robin, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't ring the doorbell that many times?!" He scolds.

She at least looks a bit sheepish before schooling her expression. "Oh whatever. I'm here because we need you looking nice for Eddie's concert!" Her hands wave as she talks, Steve's fond of that.

Steve's expression falters from one of irritation to apprehension to dimmed sadness. "Why do I need to change the way I look? Aren't my clothes just fine?"

Robin sighs over exasperated, "Because your clothes are going to make you one, stand out and two, look like a major douchebag. Plus, don't you want to look nice for Eddie?"

He nods, but his expression gets gloomier. "I mean, yeah...but I thought that I looked nice anyway? Shouldn't I just be myself?" He asks quietly. He's starting to curl a bit in on himself, letting his shoulders guard his ears, and his head bow closer to his collarbone. His hair brushes gently between his shoulders.

"You can be yourself, you just can't look the usual. Gotta spruce it up, look nice for the fellas?" She teases.

That's how he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Robin root through his closet. She makes a pile of shirts that are "too preppy, Steve!" It's all the polos his mom bought him. All of the sweaters he likes to layer over t-shirts. All of the henleys that his mom said made him look like, "such a wonderful young man, my precious boy."

Though his parents are consistently absent, he still adores his mother. She showed her affection in the food she used to make and the gifts she would bestow and her chaste, wet forehead kisses.

When they'd come home from the department store with several new polos and two different colors of denim jeans, she'd declare that Steve put on a fashion show for her. He'd go into his ensuite bathroom and change into all his new clothes, reentering his bedroom in a fashionable outfit. She'd say, "pose for me Stevie, Mommy wants to see how good you look!" And he would do it every single time. They'd laugh and laugh. Then, when his dad would be home later in the day, they'd show him too. He wouldn't pose for him, but his dad would think that he looked very dapper and put together.

For those little moments in time, the Harrington family would be a family. Afterwards, his mom would serve up a new casserole with green beans and mashed potatoes. Mr. Harrington would talk about business and gloat about his new clients. He'd tell Steve that he was smart and that, "one day, you'll take over the company. And I think you'll do just fine. You'll be greater than okay." Even though Steve eventually grew to hate that idea, he'd soak in the praise he would be drenched in, he would glow with pride that his dad thinks so highly of him, he'd feel a little older and a lot bigger and more ambitious.

Now that his parents are gone though? He doesn't chase the dreams his dad had laid out for him. He sits in the silence of his home, lingering in the doorways of what-ifs and could've-beens. While eating TV dinners or a bowl of macaroni and cheese, he reminisces on the meatloaf his mom made some ten years ago. The empty rooms now gathering dust tend to haunt him at night. Every card sent in the mail is shoved in crevices he'll never clean. His Beemer sits as lonely as he is. Though, he finds comfort in his clothes. In his hair. Things that his mom would participate with him in. Those things that tell him, I'll be okay as long as I know how to do this.

And he does. That's why he hates the idea of having to change how he looks just to go out with Eddie. The thought trickles down his spine and makes him twist with nausea. It doesn't help that a good majority of his clothes are deemed too-highly for someone like Eddie. He likes to think that Eddie doesn't mind; he's never commented on Steve's clothes. Maybe he doesn't like when people point out his clothes, he wonders.

Steve loses himself in the thoughts of his mother. That is, until Robin chucks a pair of acid wash jeans--they have a few rips and holes--at his face and he blinks back to existence.

"You're gonna put those on! And..." she wrestles with the various items that clink in her duffle bag. "This!" She exclaims, throwing a t-shirt at Steve's face.

He unravels it. On the front is the album cover of Metallica's Ride the Lightning. It's a plain black with the album design. He crinkles his nose.

"Where'd you get this? This wasn't in my closet," he points out.

"Oh, just Eddie," she smirks. "Told him that I wanted a metal shirt so that I could maybe sneak into his show. He threw this one at me and told me to get out. Guess I woke him up too early. I don't think six is that early," she claims.

"It's pretty early," Steve states bluntly.

"Whatever. Just put the stupid clothes on. Then..." she hoists the bag up onto Steve's bed. "I can decorate you!" The bag's contents spill over his mattress. There's a variety of chains and studded bracelets, eyeliner colors and eyeshadow palettes, and a pair of large, chunky, black combat boots.

Steve rolls his eyes, but goes to the ensuite to change anyway.

To say he likes the look would be a false statement. He hates it. So much so, he considers banning Robin from his house for the next week and banishing the clothes to the back of his closet. The jeans are tight in too many places, his skin is exposed to the cool air of the Harrington home. His arms with drag scars are on full display. Steve wants to climb into his bathtub and hide in the dark. Wants to wrap a towel over his body. This doesn't feel like me at all. Why can't I just wear my clothes? Steve questions.

He leaves the bathroom with the confidence of a timid deer in headlights. He tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, attempting to hide his scarring. Pats at the open areas on his jeans, thinking that his hands could magically sew the denim back together. In some odd, possibly because he's so exposed way, Steve finds that he just wants to cry.

"I don't like this outfit Robs," he admits quietly.

"It doesn't look that bad, Steve. Just get over here so I can make you look good!" she says louder than needed.

Make me look good? Steve wonders.

Now he feels like the eleven year old boy his parents left behind. Like he's standing in the foyer, listening to his father demand that he sharpen up. His dad looms over him, standing at an intimidating 6'4". He pushes the words from his mouth so hard that spit sprays into Steve's little hazel eyes. In his dad's hand is his report card. It features all the Cs and Ds that burn into his soul like a brand. His dad reams that "you'll never be smart. Never. Such a disappointment." Steve's mom stands behind his dad with tears clogging her eyelashes, but she pushes at the corners to keep her makeup pristine. She doesn't go to Steve and tell him to stay himself, doesn't offer to go get him a new outfit to have a fashion show. She mutters something about learning a lesson and having to make his food and keeping himself in line, unlike his father. She tuts and worries, but not enough to comfort Steve. This was all so much worse when they came home to learn he didn't get into college. His dad had said, "you have never been good enough for me. Your mom and I only wanted the best for you and you betrayed us. You're going to get a job and learn your lesson."

They don't speak anymore. Steven Otis Harrington is left home alone at age eighteen with the inability to breathe on his own. With demons that his blood family can't know about. He wishes he could explain that he's good enough or at least okay.

Steve wonders if he'll ever be good enough for anybody. He wonders if just his clothes are good enough for the people he loves, adores, would die for. But do they like the way Steve expresses himself? Make me look good? I think I usually look okay, Steve holds onto.

He sits on his bed anyway. For several hours. Lets Robin hold his jaw to apply eyeliner, hook several chains into his belt loops, rip bigger holes in his jeans, wrap bracelets about three inches up his wrist, gel back his hair, and spray him with a musky cologne.

Robin chirps out, "looking so good! This may be your best look yet!" Before leaving though his front door and setting his mail on the kitchen counter. It's only three in the afternoon.

Steve is freshly twenty years old, sitting in a bedroom that his mom decorated so many years ago with plush toys and soft wall art of Winnie the Pooh. He is exiting his teenage years a more broken man than his father ever was at this age. He's standing in the kitchen, flitting through mail, and shifting from foot to foot because his shoes hurt his heels. Steven Otis Harrington gets one letter and a Pooh colored package from his mom.

In the reflection of the kitchen window, he sees himself clutching his mother's mail to his chest. Standing at 5'11", much shorter than his dad, but with his eyes. They're rounded out by black, smudged eyeliner. They'll never see eye-to-eye. Steve contemplates scrubbing it off with a harsh tea towel. In the window he also doesn't see himself. He looks down at his clothes. They fit tight and too loose, clink if he moves a leg, threads pressing into the soft open areas of skin. His arms are itchy from being exposed to oxygen. The hair that his mom taught to always maintain volume, is slicked down hard enough that he can squint and see the shape of a shaved head.

He hates it all. But it's to impress Eddie, right? All Steve wants is to be loved, so he'll do what he can. If he has to fight with God, throw his arm like Muhammad Ali, he will.

———— It's now 6:00. Steve's driving over to the Hideout in hopes that he can get a soda and a booth before it gets too packed. He's going at this alone. Alone and in an outfit that doesn't define him in any sort of way. Makes him feel more like a sore thumb and he prays to God that nobody asks about the album on the front of his shirt. He'd only be able to say, "Master of Puppets," and then crumple in despair as he gets laughed at.

Metal music. Overcrowded bars. Loud concerts. Black clothes and chains and all the other miscellaneous things thrown on his body.

None of this is Steve Harrington or even Steven Otis Harrington.

He wants to go home and eat a sad microwave meal while dressed in clothes his mom would approve of. Ones that he approves of. Clothes that feel like comfort that's been absent since he was eleven years old.

But he has to support Eddie. That's his duty, he decides. Because no matter what people think about him, he'll support all of the things people that he loves likes. But does anybody like anything that Steve Harrington likes? Or do they just like what he can do for them? Y'know, the car and arcade trips, concerts and loud music, rambles and advice.

Does anybody like Steve Harrington? His parents don't even approach the word.

Steve files into the bar as fast as humanly possible. He pays for a Coke with too much ice and a bowl of half stale chips. Eats them anyway, doesn't want to cause a scene because he already feels so out of place. The booth he chooses to sit at is sticky and musky with sweat and cigarette smoke. One of the Corroded Coffin boys is up on stage, plugging in various instruments, tapping on different mics, and scanning over the setlist. Do they play originals, do they play just metal music, do they know that I'm here? Steve wants to ask.

He prays to that same God. Asks that nobody, but Eddie, knows him. Begs for mercy while he's trapped in the booth.

His arms stick to the seat's vinyl. It rips at his scars and makes tears bead in the corners of his eyes. He keeps his line of sight downwards so he can carefully dab at them with a rough napkin. Like his mom taught him when he learned about manners. There's eyeliner on the corner of the paper, it'll probably steak over his cheeks if he cries anymore. So he steels his expression, sucks in a hefty breath, and faces the stage once more in hopes that his facade won't crumble.

The sleeves of the Metallica t-shirt are tugged at once more. His fingers play with the threads on his pants. He hates this, but he loves Eddie.

In a short few minutes, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin enters the stage light. He slings his guitar over his torso and plays a few starting chords. Jeff, the boy with short sheared hair, he announces the first song of the night. Then, the concert starts.

Steve doesn't enjoy the music. It's loud at every single second and makes his ears ring like the after effects of a concussion. Everybody in the room is pressed too close in and sweating against each other's backs and torsos. He's lucky he chose to sit down. After so long of conforming to social standards and throwing parties and being absolutely nasty, Steve's almost content with being a wallflower. Content with the idea that probably nobody recognizes him. And he hopes it stays that way.

That is, until a patron walks by and sneers at him, "you don't belong here, meathead!" They cackle to themself, reach over for the cold cup of Coke water, and pour it over Steve's lap. Is this what it was like when I did this shit? Steve ponders with tears once again building in his eyes.

His resolve is crumbling and he can't stand the smell and heat and crowd of the bar. He flees out of a side exit door and practically sprints over to his car.

And there he sits. Contemplating. Should I go home? Should I wait until Eddie is done?

He chooses to go crawling back to his vacant house and hopes that Eddie understands tomorrow morning. He hopes that Eddie doesn't see him this way, that he forgot that he invited Steve in the first place, hopes that maybe Steve just got caught too busy at work to even slip out for a night of "fun."

At twenty years old, Steve hides in the sanctuary of his bedroom. It's only seven in the evening. He doesn't take the uncomfortable clothes off though. Lays on his duvet with his hands tangled over his belly. His hair is starting to crisp and knot and crunch. There are blisters the size of quarters on the backs of his heels. Eyeliner smudged everywhere around his eyes and eyebrows and bridge of his nose.

He rolls over with tears in his eyes.

At eleven, Steve was scolded for crying at every last little thing. His mom was also chewed out for raising such a sensitive boy.

He doesn't cry as much in hopes his mom will learn to forgive him. In hopes that maybe, his mom will still like him. Or maybe, his mom will demand a fashion show and hold him gently against her chest, and allow him to breathe. He isn't sure how to breathe on his own without the help of other people, but he thinks that there's a possibility that breathing is overrated. That there's a way for him to just wither to dust if he doesn't inhale. If he exhales, he's sure he'll cry.

So he doesn't. He holds his breath and promptly falls asleep in the tightest curl. He imagines that the empty space beside him is where his mom lays. That she's tapping on his spine and cooing softly into his hair. That she made soup and it's waiting for him downstairs. That all she's waiting for is her little Stevie boy, her precious baby, to roll over and puff breaths into her neck.

———— Only two hours later, at nine, Steve startles awake. There are sounds coming from downstairs. He doesn't move to check it out. It could be a demogorgan, his brain mutters. He ignores it.

He ignores the ball of light crackling in his chest at the sheer though that his parents came home. For the first time since June of 1985. They call, always, to say they're on their way back. But something is always delayed. Or his dad is always cheating. Or his mom is always throwing a fit.

He ignores the idea that they came home just for him, to wish him a happy birthday, to welcome him into pure manhood, to watch him open the parcel he received earlier in the morning.

A voice rings out, "Steve?"

The pure streak of excitement coating Steve's soul in neon green dies out like a candle flame. A candle he hasn't blown out since he was ten years old.

Steve curls tighter, if possible. His door remains shut. The bed is still empty behind him. His clothes are digging into the meat of his thighs and slight chub to his stomach. A chain rattles, but he doesn't reach out to silence it.

"Steve? Dude, are you home? It's Eddie. You left the door unlocked," the voice rings louder. He sounds raspy and exhausted. Steve really wishes he hadn't agreed to hang out or that he just called Eddie to say he didn't feel good. He wishes that Eddie didn't come all this way to see his buddy in such a melancholy state.

Footsteps trample up the stairs and to the wood outside of Steve's bedroom door. There's a set of three knocks. They're quiet, but firm.

"Sorry if I'm waking you up. I brought the movie and some beer and some pizza. Another thing too, but it's a surprise. Do you still want to hang out for a bit?" Eddie's voice comes soft through the door. It envelops Steve in a way no voice has in a long while. "We don't even need to watch anything, we could just talk in your room. If you want," he offers.

Steve uncurls slightly, enough to bring his head up and speak. "You can come in," he croaks.

The door creaks open. Several things are placed on Steve's desk. Then, Eddie is sitting on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, face turned to not look at Steve.

"Missed you at the show," Eddie admits.

Steve doesn't respond. Just breathes shakily and brings his head back down. His body curls again.

"It was cool. We played a Queen song. I weaseled it onto the setlist; wanted to play it just for you," his voice whispers.

The room is silent again. There's rain drizzling down outside and Steve continues to attempt to hold his breath. He really doesn't want to cry. Especially because Eddie is in his room right now.

Eddie scoots closer so that his hip is touching the bottom of Steve's socked feet. He tentatively brings a hand to wrap at his ankle, thumb rubbing at exposed skin.

"You're dressed up in some gnarly clothes," he points out. Steve stifles a whine. Don't cry, idiot, he chastises. "Were you planning on checking out the show?" Eddie asks kindly.

Steve nods. He whispers, "I was there for a little bit."

"Oh," Eddie breathes. He sounds somewhat disappointed.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to stay and watch, but I couldn't. I'm sorry I didn't do what you wanted. I'm sorry if I made you mad, I didn't mean to," Steve rushes out, breaths growing wild, dazed, ragged. Eddie stops rubbing at his skin; he pulls his hand away entirely. "I just. I wanted. I didn't..." he stammers. His lungs hurt, his nose burns, there are tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Steven Otis Harrington has been taught to not cry in every circumstance. He had been told at a young age that he was born without a single scream, not even a sigh. His dad admitted that it scared him. But he was quick to tell Steve that now it was a good thing if he kept quiet, if he didn't cry. Especially if he was yelled at. Especially if he was overwhelmed. Especially if he was talked to unkindly or hit or humiliated. "Don't be sensitive," Steve's dad had warned.

There are tears streaming down his face even though he continues to hold his breath. His body doesn't budge. Won't even shiver.

"Stevie?" Eddie's concerned voice washes through. "Shit," he mutters. His hands make their way to Steve's torso, trying to shove his arms to the side, turn him onto his back, whittle him into an upright position. To no avail. "Steve, sweetheart, I need you to breathe with me," he urges.

Steven Otis Harrington was born not breathing.

There's panic laced in Eddie's words, in his tone, in his movements. But, Steve shakes his head vehemently. I can't, he thinks. I don't know how, he wants to admit. Did you know that I didn't cry when I was born? He wants to ask. Is this it, am I doing it right? Am I good enough? Am I disappointing you, more than I already have? He can't question.

All at once, the world is shifted. Steve is against his bed's headboard with his legs bracketing Eddie's crossed ones. There are hands on his exposed knees, but he doesn't have the words to tell Eddie to stop touching him. So he shifts as much as he can away.

"Steve," Eddie's voice surges. "You can do this, I know you can," his hand brings Steve's to his chest. Though there's panic in his heart--Steve can feel it through the soft shirt--his breath is slow. "Just match what I'm doing, okay?"

He counts. He inhales and fills up any empty space in his chest. He exhales hot over Steve's arm. He does it again and again and again, not once does he give up. But, it's not enough.

"You're doing really well Stevie, so good," he praises. His voice is feather light, still raspy, but calm. "Not gonna stop, keep breathing with me."

Steve thinks Eddie makes it sound easy. Even though he knows it isn't. Knows that at one point he scared his parents by the lack of air traveling through his body. Scared Robin the same way too, when he was passed out on the floor of that cold Russian bunker. He makes people feel panicked, pained, exasperated. Rarely do people care about him so fervently outside of situations like this. His parents made that known. His own body does that to him.

Eventually, though it takes nearly fifteen minutes, Steve's breathing is set. Shaky and hiccuped, but rushing into the room easily enough.

"Scared me," Eddie mutters. And he sounds so exhausted. Steve just knows it's because of him.

"I'm sorry," he timidly states. There's an ache in his chest, his fingers, behind his eyes. He's still crying. And he wonders, is this it? Have I been born again?

There's a brief pause after the apology is said. Eddie gazes at him, eyes wide and hurt. He doesn't move away, but he doesn't let himself linger either. Steve thinks he did something wrong, if a pimple has made itself known on his face, or even worse, an Upside Down creature lingers behind him. He begins to panic again.

"Hey, no, no," Eddie reassures. "You're alright. You're okay," he sighs. "Was just lost on the fact that you're apologizing to me."

"Well, yeah," Steve says. Like a solution, like a fact. The sky is blue, asphalt becomes hot under the sun, and Steve apologizes for scaring Eddie. "I scared you. I didn't see your whole show. I disappointed you. Made you mad," he lists.

There's that face of shock and hurt washing over Eddie. He's so outwardly expressive, it terrifies Steve.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. He grunts before trying again. This time he's firm when saying, "you don't need to apologize to me. Not for something you can't control. For something you need other people to help you with.

"You don't need to apologize for scaring me. I just panicked, I didn't know what was happening, but I got my bearings. All I wanted was for you to be okay.

"And you didn't disappoint me by not watching the rest of the show. And you didn't make me mad either. I'm just tired, but I'm always tired after I perform. I'll get over it," he assures. "It's your birthday, the big twenty, I wanted to do something nice for you. But I couldn't cancel or move my show. Had to compromise," he smiles.

"Oh," Steve exhales. He doesn't know what to do with that much information. He's been taught for years to not cry so hard or openly. He's been the main source of so much disappointment and anger in his life, he wonders how he's survived this long. He doesn't know how to comprehend someone being nice to him after something as explosive as what's happened. "Oh," he states again.

Eddie watches him with curious eyes. His thumbs twitch where they rest over his own knees. After another second of lost thought, he asks, "why didyou leave so early?"

Steve doesn't want to tell the truth. Wants to hide behind the chains still shifting over his jeans, place his hands in the holes on his knees, tug at the sleeves of the t-shirt again. "I got heckled, I guess. This dude told me I was a meathead, that I didn't belong at the show. He poured my drink over my crotch. I was already so uncomfortable," he admits with his head tucked into his chest.

"That fucking dickwad," Eddie seethes. He drags a hand down his face and tucks hair behind his ears. "Why were you so uncomfortable? I mean, you don't have to answer that. I already knew it wasn't your scene, but maybe it'll help if you talk about it? You seem...extremely distraught."

"I guess it was everything," Steve whispers. "The music was loud and made my ears ring, like when I get a concussion? And there were too many people and it was so hot. The booth I sat at was really sticky and kept pulling at the scars on my arms. And," he stops to breathe. "And the clothes," he finishes quietly.

"Who's clothes? Your clothes?" Steve nods. "I have to admit, they're not really your style. What's the matter with 'em?"

Steve huffs and throws his hands up to gesture at the entirety of his outfit. "All of it!" he exclaims. "I hate everything about this outfit. And no offense about the shirt," he glances towards Eddie.

"None taken. Was wondering where you got that. Robin, that liar."

"Well, the shirt doesn't cover the scars on my arms, so I feel them stick to everything in my vicinity. And the pants are too tight and too much skin is exposed. The makeup makes my eyes look wrong. I like my eyes. I don't like my hair slicked back. My heels have blisters on them now from the combat boots that Robin forced me to wear," he's cut off.

"Forced you to wear? If you didn't want to wear any of this stuff, why'd you stay in it?" Eddie ribs.

"Because I wanted to impress you!" Steve exclaims, nearly shouts. His face turns beet red with shame and he covers his mouth. He glances away.

Eddie seems taken aback by the small outburst. Be he doesn't linger on it for too long. "Impress me? Steve, you don't need to change your look to impress me."

"Then how are you supposed to like me? Nobody seems to like the stuff that I'm into. People think I'm a douchebag based off of the normal clothes I wear. I like my clothes! My mom used to pick them out for me, and I know that sounds lame, but I liked it when she made me try them on. I liked the way she used to compliment me and dote over me. I miss it," Steve points out, quietly. "I miss my mom all the time. My clothes. My hair. They're the last things connecting me to her. Except for the birthday cards and I guess the one package she sent today."

Steve tries to hide in on himself. Why did I say that? He wonders. He plays with the hem of the t-shirt. It should be comforting, considering it's Eddie's. But all he wants is to rip it off of his chest and throw it across the room.

"Stevie, I already like you," Eddie sadly whispers. "I like how confident your regular clothes make you feel. I don't like the way these current clothes seem to make you shrink. I think it's bogus and frankly crazy to ask you to conform to my aesthetics. They're not for you. And I don't mean that in like a weird, you can't enjoy what I like way, but rather, this isn't you." He reaches out to hold Steve's hands, rubbing circles into his knuckles, and massaging his veins.

"You like me?" he asks.

"Of course," Eddie concedes. "I love you," he states. Like a fact. The sky is blue, asphalt becomes hot under the sun, and Eddie Munson likes, loves Steve Harrington. Steve smiles.

They sit for several minutes, Eddie gazing at Steve's form. And Steve basking in the attention he's being given. 

"Y'know...I saw the package over there on your desk," Eddie starts. "Why don't you shower to get the gel and eyeliner off? And then you can come out here in your comfortable clothes and you can open up some gifts?"

———— That's exactly what Steve Harrington does at 9:45 on his twentieth birthday. Then, he reenters his room in his own sweatpants and sweatshirt. The bottoms are a light grey. His shirt, a saturated indigo. Eddie sits patiently on his bed with two packages laid out in front of him. The Pooh gift from his mom and one wrapped in bright blue paper with the words "Happy Birthday" thrown about; the paper is wrinkled in some places like Eddie had a hard time smoothing it across the corners and edges. The birthday card from his mom is there too.

"Come on birthday boy! You've got gifts to tear into!" Eddie exclaims, patting at the empty spot across from him on the bed. His hand hits the mattress hard enough to jostle the packages, which he quickly resituates. "You should open mine first," he sings.

Steve sits down on his bed, legs crossed in front of him. He reaches out for the blue package and gives it a shake.

"Don't shake it, you cheater," Eddie says. Steve chuckles.

He's careful with the wrapping. Always is. His mom taught him to tear the paper in one clean sheet so that later, he can cut a square and keep it before the rest has to go out to the recycling. Though he can see Eddie jittering out of the corner of his eye, possibly with anticipation to just lean forward and rip it up into shreds, he takes his time.

Inside is a plain white box with lid. It's cardboard. Like the kind you get from a department store when purchasing a nice blouse or button-up for a kid's Christmas gift. Steve removes the tape from the edges and pries the lid off. Under a layer of wrapping tissue is a dark green, like the forest of trees behind his house, sweatshirt. His eyes widen, the lid held close to his right shoulder, and he doesn't speak.

"I, uh, I figured this would be something you'd like," Eddie quietly states. "Wayne took me to Macy's out in Indianapolis? I had to get a button-up for a cousin's wedding. Passed by this and knew that Robin mentioned something about your birthday coming up...I have the receipt if you need to exchange it. If you want to exchange it," he pulls the receipt from his wallet, slides it across the mattress, and pats the crinkled paper.

"I love it," Steve responds just as quietly. He looks down at the receipt very briefly, seeing $29.99 stare at him in bold black lettering. He glances back at the sweater and unfolds it. It's soft in his grasp, almost like it's been worn, but the tags are still attached to the collar. "I love this a lot."

"Good, I'm glad," Eddie says. "Now open the card and gift from your mom. Then, you can put on a little show for me!" He shoves the yellow package closer with the card set on top.

Steve rips the envelope open. He's always been less gentle with letters. Years of yearning for parents who have only grown absent and regretful through words on paper, that will do it. He looks at the front of the card. A snapshot of a lake, rippling under a sunset, shadowed by the graceful presence of hundreds of trees. And just like he guessed, inside is her loopy handwriting. Though, in previous years it's only said "happy birthday Steve," with a wad of cash.

This time she writes:

Dear Steve, How are you darling boy? Mommy hopes that you're doing great, better than okay. You've always been just okay. I want better than that.

There's a lot to say and not much room to write, may have to write on the back of this card. Hope you don't mind.

First, I'm sorry.

Steve stops reading in favor of breathing. He didn't realize he had begun to hold it once again. Never in a million years did he think he'd see the words I'm sorry written just for him. Written just for him from his own mother. He continues.

First, I'm sorry. For how long I've been away from you. It's not because of who you are, what has happened. I don't think saying I'm sorry will ever be enough.

And it better not be, you deserve better. You deserve kindness and presence and care. And I wish I didn't stop giving any of that to you.

Your dad...he's the same as he's always been. Cold, angry, bitter. He told me not too long ago that he doesn't love me. And now I think I better understand how you've been feeling for the last ten years.

I'm sorry he doesn't say that he loves you. I'm sorry that I can't reassure you that he does. But I know one thing.

I love you. I've always been proud of you, I was just so scared to say anything against your father. I like everything about you. How kind you've always been, the way you continue to dress up and style your hair, how much better you are than anybody else in the Harrington family. You're my light, my star, my sunshine. I prayed for you fervently as a kid, I prayed for you when you weren't breathing, I pray for you every night before I go to sleep. And that's true. And you may not believe me, the same way you don't believe in God. But even if your faith in religion is nonexistent, one day I hope you'll be able to, over the phone or through writing or just looking me in the eyes, say "I believe you."

Because I believe you. I believe in you. Wherever life takes you.

Now, Mommy got you something. I picked out the packaging because it reminded me of your nursery. Makes me weep thinking my baby boy is a grown adult now. And I know. I missed so much of who you are; I feel like we're strangers and that's not your fault. But I hope this can be the start of some sort of rebuilding.

Go ahead and open your gift, then continue the rest of this card.

Steve puts the card down and wipes his eyes. He doesn't want to cry again, but his mom had always been one to encourage him to be emotional. the release feels right for something as big as his mom apologizing to him. Even if the apologies don't soothe every wound on his torso.

"You alright Stevie? We don't have to continue if it's that bad," Eddie softly states. He gently touches the back of Steve's hand with his fingertips, pressing ever so slightly into his warm skin.

"No, no I'm good. It's alright," Steve waves off his concerns. "She got me something, she's saying stuff I thought I'd never see."

He grasps the package and stares at the box in wonder. His mom has to constantly be thinking about him in order to pick something out like this. To see a box like this and be reminded that she has a son back home. How often? Steve wonders. Every night she said, his brain supplies.

The box is pried open by the flaps. Inside are several layers of thin, light red, almost pink wrapping tissue. after throughly trashing his bed, Steve unveils a pair of dark-wash Levi jeans. Not blue enough to be considered nearly black, but blue enough that they're almost purple.

Eddie audibly goes awww, when Steve unfolds them to their full length.

"What?" he says. Is he making fun of me now? Steve ponders.

"Turn them around, there's something on the pocket," Eddie states, smile heard in his voice. He's giddy, warm in the way he speaks.

So, Steve turns the jeans around to look at the back-pockets.

There, in light yellow and red embroidery floss, is little Winnie the Pooh holding a balloon. These definitely didn't come with that on the butt, Steve notes. He hastily picks the card back up from his mom. He scans through the first part of the writing and continues to read on.

Ta-da! New jeans!

Steve can hear her butter soft voice ring out in his bedroom. Can hear the wave of her hands, the curl to her nude-pink painted lips.

Now, I'm not sure of your current size. I had to sneak a look at a pair the last time I was home; which, that was too long ago. And once again, I'm sorry. However, I've left the address for a nice little lady and her tailor shop on the back of this card. Just tell her that your mom sent you over and she'll do any alternations necessary. She'll bill directly to me, so you don't need to worry about paying her or your father getting upset.

But, I did the embroidery myself. Mommy used to do this all the time when you were just a tiny thing. I had to put your name in everything you wore or took to school, it was easier for me this way. Though, I thought I'd do something different to mark that these jeans are yours and only yours.

I hope you like them. Maybe you can snap a photo and send it to the address on this card? Or, better yet, I'll be on my way home mid-March. You could do a little fashion show for me, right baby? Your father won't be with me, so we can do whatever your heart desires. You could scream at me if you want, I wouldn't mind.

Oh, on another note, I saw something about the Munson boy? I'm so ashamed that the town thinks so poorly of him, even though he's been found not guilty. They always think so terribly about people different than them, they used to think of me differently. You know, before I married your father? I hope you don't treat that boy terribly; I know you won't. You're too kind for that. The Munsons have always been nice, I used to know Wayne in high school. If you run into either of them, show them hospitality. Be kind, my little star.

Anyway, it's late where I am and your father is getting irritated that I'm keeping the light on.

Write to me. Let me know about every great thing in your life. Hopefully, one day, I'll bear witness to them.

Love, Mommy (drawing of a heart)

Steve once again sets the card down with tears in his eyes. He chuckles, "she wrote about you."

"Oh?" Eddie breathes. He picks up the card. "Can I read what she said?" He implores.

"Yeah, just read under the sentence, 'you could scream at me if you want, I wouldn't mind.'" He watches Eddie flit back and forth between the words and then read it over two more times. He breathes out a hefty sigh.

"She doesn't even know me," he states quietly.

"She doesn't know me either," Steve whispers. "But I like to believe she's always had good judgement of character."

The room is once again silent. Steve sniffs every once in a while. He think over every single word his mother wrote. Every sentence punctuated. The thoughtfulness she still carries, even if it doesn't take her home as often as she wants, as much as Steve needs.

For the first time in several years, he feels like he can breathe. Like he can start to do it on his own. That he can hear her walk through the front door, take her shoes off, tiptoe up the stairs, barge into Steve's room, and wrestle him to tears with tickle attacks. He can feel her fingers through his hair, hear the small snips of styling scissors, the pats on his chest as she laid the collars of his polos flat.

He doesn't admit anything to Eddie about being born again. About his lack of breathing that's been haunting him since the moment he was ripped from the womb. He basks in every moment that's lost to time, where his mom existed and could've survived had she held hope against her chest the way Steve had been held. He rubs his fingers over the embroidery. He smooths his hands down the front of the sweater and denim legs, over and over and over.

Eddie suggests, "try the clothes on. I want to see you in all your glory."

———— At ten, Steve Harrington saunters out of his ensuite bathroom in the forest green sweater and Winnie the Pooh jeans. He slips on his white and red Nike Bruins to complete the outfit.

Eddie whoops and claps his hands loudly as he cheers, "there he is! That's Steve Harrington!" He gestures towards Steve's clothes. "Pose for me man!"

"Alright, alright," Steve giggles out. He puts his hands on his hips, pops his legs, puts one foot in front of the other, makes goofy faces. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Yeah," Eddie nods. "It's better than good enough," he gets off of the bed and makes his way over to Steve. "How do you feel right now?"

Steve looks down at his outfit. He stretches his arms out, brings his legs up, and places them back down. He nods, "I feel amazing." He twirls and twists, giggles slightly delirious at himself, and sighs in relief.

Eddie smiles, all teeth and gums, dimples, and eye crinkles. "You look amazing."

"Yeah?" Steve breathes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums. "You look amazing. You look comfortable. You look happy."

"Does that mean I impressed you?" Steve asks. He means it to be somewhat flirtatious, but there's an undertone of rippling anxiety. The worry of not being enough for somebody as eccentric as Eddie.

"Impressed? You knocked me flat on my ass is what you did!" He exclaims. "I like this on you Steve. I love this Steve."

"Like, you love the outfit? Because I think I've already picked up on that," Steve says.

"No, silly. I love you. I love quite literally everything about you," Eddie assures. "Which, I believe, includes your clothes."

Steve giggles. He thinks about his clothes and his choice in movies and the tapes in his car. He ponders on the cookies he bakes for Christmas and the costumes he wears at Halloween. Thinks back to sports in high school and the way all his training has applied to the Upside Down. The love he has for the Party and Robin and Joyce and Hopper. The love he has for Eddie.

"Even the sports?" Steve teases.

"Hey I may not understand the whole ball in laundry basket thing, but come on. Guys in shorts that are practically underwear? Stevie, I think if you spared a glance at me the one year we had gym class together, I would've came in my pants," Eddie passionately admits.

Steve crinkles his nose. "Gross," he bluntly states. But he holds the biggest smile this world has ever seen. "You really love me, huh?"

"Yeah Stevie, I love you," Eddie breathes.

"Good," Steve whispers. "Because I love you too," he puffs onto Eddie's lips.

But because Eddie can't be serious for a single moment in his life, he swats Steve's ass and exclaims, "alright hot stuff! Let's go heat up some pizza and party."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Way to cockblock your own cock of interest."

"Oh, whatever. The quicker we eat, the faster you can have some dessert," Eddie says while wiggling his eyebrows.

"I hate you," Steve states.

"No you don't, you loooove me."

"Yeah Eds, I do."

———— Steve Harrington is born again on February 22nd, 1987. He's birthed into a family of people who treat him with constant, consistent kindness and adoration. His mom is still gentle, still lovable, still ready to fight God if necessary.

Steve is reborn with a new outlook on breathing and living. He conforms the way he knows how and doesn't let other people direct how he shouldlook.

Though his father never praises or loves him like he did when Steve was little, Mrs. Harrington is there despite it. She rushes back in like a tornado in late March, a brand new Winnie the Pooh stuffy under her arm with a whisper of, "you're never too old or sensitive for a soft bear."

She learns about Robin Buckley, the ramble-on, quick-witted, two left feet character that is Steve's platonic soulmate. She reintroduces herself to Nancy Wheeler, who she believes will be an excellent news journalist one day. She rekindles her high school friendship with one Wayne Munson and tuts over Eddie Munson the way she did to Steve. Though, considering the time period, it takes a while for her to fully understand Steve's relationship with Eddie, she doesn't ignore it. In fact, she embraces that part of her son. She's happy that despite how lonely his growing up had been, how empty all the rooms had seemed, how miserable dinners were; Steve Harrington was consistently loved, doted over, and cared about.

Steve Harrington has his father's eyes, mother's hair, and grandfather's moles. But he isn't cruel, not anymore. He isn't anything other than Steve Harrington with his polos and sweaters and Levi jeans. He's who he needs to be; and that impresses everybody.

"I'm proud of you star shine," Mrs. Harrington whispers into his hair one night after a brutal nightmare. He hadn't been breathing until she calmed him down. "I love you."

"I love you too Mom," he puffs into her neck.

Yeah, Steve Harrington will always be more than okay.

💕—————💕 Already posted my steddielovemonth fic, but I thought y'all deserved an extra treat in the form of one of my favorite fanfics I've ever written. Posted last year!

[tossawary]

Posting about my reread like this in an attempt to help me remember some of these small details... I am quite bad at remembering things from the beginning of a book by the end of it, partially because small, easily overlooked details often become far more meaningful and therefore memorable on the reread.

Some quotes and thoughts on Binghe's birth + adoption, Tianlang-Jun, Su Xiyan, and the poor, unnamed washerwoman:

"Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year, and it was only thanks to fishermen pulling him out of the water that he didn't freeze to death as a baby. Because he'd been drifting along the Luo in the season when it was choked with thin ice, he was given the name Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe spent his early years wandering the streets, hungry and cold - a dreary childhood. A washerwoman who worked for a wealthy family took pity on him, and since he had no children of her own, she adopted and raised him as her own. Mother and son were poor, and they suffered much humiliation at the hands of their rich patrons." - Chapter 1, pages 9-10

"As it turned out, Luo Binghe had been born to the Demon Realm's Saintly Ruler and a woman of the Human Realm; within his veins flowed the blood of the ancient, heaven-fallen demons as well as that of the human race. His father, Tianlang-Jun, had been sealed beneath a great mountain, trapped for all eternity. His birth mother had been a disciple from a righteous cultivation sect, but shortly following Tianlang-Jun's dealing, she had been expelled on suspicion of having secret ties to demons. She had died from a postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth to Luo Binghe, but prior to her death, she had set her son adrift from the lonely ship she'd birthed him on. It was the only way she had been able to give Luo Binghe a chance to survive." - Chapter 1, page 11

I view a lot of these small details as somewhat flexible, with the different levels of unreliable narration going on. We are being told these things by Shen Yuan, who may be misremembering these details (as any reader, myself definitely included, does), and who read them as told by Airplane, who may have retconned prior details as he came up with new ideas, forgotten small details as he wrote millions of words, or was just lying in the narration for later reveals that never came to fruition. Shen Yuan may have also been reading dialogue between characters who also didn't know what they were talking about or were lying to each other.

So, I can do what I want with a lot of this, I feel! Shen Yuan doesn't necessarily know what he's talking about here. (More details will be revealed later on, I remember, and I will be looking out for them.)

Interesting things to remember here! Tianlang-Jun was apparently probably sealed during the winter, maybe late autumn at the earliest, which was probably unpleasant for snake demon Zhuzhi-Lang. I'm currently imagining Tianlang-Jun leaving his nephew to essentially hibernate somewhere to avoid the weather, promising to stay out of trouble (actually planning to meet up with Su Xiyan), and then just not coming back.

Su Xiyan apparently gave birth to Binghe on a ship! That's interesting. I had forgotten that detail if I ever took note of it.

I knew that the book implies here that Binghe was found by the washerwoman a little later into his childhood, but I'd forgotten the fishermen detail. I usually intentionally ignore this and just go with the washerwoman finding Binghe (which is what the animated show did, I think), because if Binghe was honestly "immediately" abandoned by Su Xiyan, then he would have been a newborn! Someone HAD to have been looking after him. This is one of my pet peeves in fiction: Binghe HAD to have been breastfed by someone OR this world must have an equivalent to baby formula for him to survive. (This is the main reason I conceptualized Luo Jiahui in PINTWILF as a young woman who had recently had a stillbirth, just so she could breastfeed this newborn baby.)

It's possible that Binghe had a series of caretakers who fell through before his adoption, leading to brief periods on the streets as a young child, and/or he did a lot of "wandering the streets" begging and scavenging AFTER his adoption by an extremely poor woman (and the sentences there are just a little out of order). Even if demon baby Binghe COULD survive on other food somehow, newborns can't... walk... or crawl... or lift their heads.

If I have to stick to what's written here as closely as possible, then I would go with the following interpretation: newborn Binghe being found by fishermen, who take him to town to see if anyone has lost or abandoned a child, or if anyone is willing to take one in. The only person to agree is this washerwoman. People in town possibly donate some means (baby formula equivalent, kinky plot device plant that kickstarts lactation) to feed this baby or cruelly tell the washerwoman the baby will die. Possibly, the washerwoman goes deeply into debt asking these rich patrons for the means to feed this baby. As Binghe grows up, he spends a lot of time on the streets, begging and scavenging to help his extremely poor adoptive mother. End mostly canonical interpretation.

If we wanted to get a little wild, we could also go with the interpretation that Shen Yuan is incorrect when he uses the word "immediately". Either he misinterpreted something Airplane wrote, or a character relayed information incorrectly in PIDW, or the SVSSS just formed differently to Shen Yuan's impression based on very vague information that Airplane may not have been keeping consistent.

Maybe Su Xiyan actually lived for several months on this ship after giving birth, creating the seals and somehow managing to feed her newborn child (the poison that killed her is a problem with breastfeeding here, but idk, maybe heavenly demon babies can drink blood for all we know, which is something Su Xiyan would know but the washerwoman would not), before setting Binghe adrift. Binghe would be too young to remember this time with his birth mother. I'll have to see what Wu Chen from Zhao Hua Temple says when I get to his explanation of what happened to Su Xiyan in the third book.

[cocogum]

Another question I had. So, I'm assuming that Amalia and Yugo will have children in the future. But I doubt that the children will inherit Yugo's longevity (I think it would be too painful for them), but it makes me wonder what Yugo's situation would be in that case (because he's also going to be reincarnated). However, I'm only assuming that because it's implied that there must be someone from the royal bloodline on the throne. Like, I'm not sure if Yugo had any other children in his previous lives.

Anon please for the love of god take a break and stop having these thoughts at 3 am...

I'm guessing you're the same one who gave me that yugo reborn ask a few days ago.

Why can't you just let me be happy for once instead of making me think about how doomed Yugo and Amalia are? Huh? Why do you like to be curious?

I've actually talked about a case like this of two other people in the krosmoz on whether their children would be demigods or not. That case was about Poo and Kali with their unborn child in the Ogrest manga, and yes, they did do the deed together, but to get the full context, here's the post.

Anyway, I mentioned in Kali and Poo's post that a demigod, no matter who they're with, would either have a demigod child, a mortal child, or be infertile. Then, I showed proof of my claim by presenting Otomaï and Goultard's cases.

But I never mentioned or bothered explaining Yugo's case. Until now. Because of you. Because of your curiosity.

Given Amalia's royal status, she must secure the next generation by conceiving a child. Since Yugo's her husband and happens to be a demigod, he'll have to help her gain the next heir.

Yugo may not be from the same planet as her, but his anatomy works precisely like a perfectly healthy man. His race also works the same as the World of Twelve (which also means like ours), so Amalia will be fine when it comes to having a child the natural way, regardless of whether the newborn ends up being a demigod or not.

One thing's for sure, though, given what we've learned from Kali, Poo, Otomaï, and Goultard, a demigod can either have a demigod baby, a mortal baby or can, unfortunately, be infertile.

And since Yugo's anatomy works the same as a twelvian, any of these options can work. Yes, even the infertile one.

However, there is a slight chance his children can be mortals but have exceptional longevity. Since Yugo's made of pure wakfu, his children could inherit that part of him and carry loads of wakfu energy in their systems, potentially making them age slower than a mortal even when they're not a demigod.

But for the sake of this hypothetical situation, let's say Yugo impregnates Amalia and she ends up having a child, demigod or not. Then what?

That's where Yugo's situation would differentiate him from other demigods because, unlike them, he has an eternity to live.

Sure, the twelvian demigods can theoretically live forever as well. But only if they don't end up in danger and stay in one place forever. If they die, it's over for them. They don't get to live again or have a second chance at life. Not even the ecaflip demigods, who have nine lives, can live forever because, well, they only have nine lives. The best case scenario for the twelvian demigods to live once more is if someone used the six primordial dofus to bring them back to life, but even that seems like a huge chore to do since to revive only one person, you'll need vast amounts of people to sacrifice.

So in short, yes.

Even if Yugo were to have demigod or mortal children with Amalia, his life would be harrowing for him. Everyone around him will die before him, and everything he has ever considered familiar to him will eventually wither away for good. Not even his children with Amalia will be able to outlive him; he'll end up all alone with only Adamaï by his side.

It won't matter if his children end up having divine blood or not; Yugo will lose them either way.

When he gets reborn, there's a huge chance he may reencounter his children (if they're demigods), but he won't remember them. His children may be the ones who went to look for him, or maybe they just found each other by accident, and Yugo would feel this strong connection towards them. There might even be a case where he could get cared for by his children without him even being aware of it (like how Goultard took care of Dally when he used to have no recollection of being the Iop god).

So yeah, Yugo and Amalia are doomed either way.

Eva and Dally are that happy couple where Dally gave up his immortality to live with his family. In contrast, Yugo and Amalia represent the opposite: a couple doomed to fail in the future no matter their choices because Yugo can't give up his immortality since his whole existence is linked to one of the primordial eliatrope dofus.

I feel like this is such an ironic parallel between these two couples.

You got a god who fucked around with the world and learned to become part of it, whereas a demigod loved being a part of the world but will become its doom in the future.

Yugo was a mistake and, therefore, cannot have a normal life with his children and wife.

His entire existence was meant to have one purpose: to lead his people and protect them by repeatedly risking his own life from danger. He was never supposed to have a normal life.

[jahayla-parker]

New Chapter : Freddy Carter x Reader

Description: 4.2k wc, Freddy and his wife welcome their newborn into their lives. Can be read as a stand-alone or as a part two to Pregnant Pause. Fluff, family.

Warnings: pregnancy and newborns and related topics including by not limited to: pregnancy, labor, blood, discharge, accidents, changing diapers, breastfeeding, hospitals, etc.

This is a Ko-Fi request from @missdreamofendless 💜 thank you so much darling for your support! 🤗

“How are ya feeling, love?” Freddy asked as he checked in with his wife for the millionth time. He hadn’t left y/n’s side since they arrived at the hospital, but he was still worried he would miss a sign that she needed him to do something for her. She’d just given birth to their newborn baby and Freddy wanted to make sure she was okay. “You did so great, my darling,” Freddy praised when y/n gave him a tired smile and a weak thumbs up in response to his question. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her still clammy forehead.

“Aren’t they just the cutest?” Y/n mused tiredly as she gazed at the clear roller bin coated with a fuzzy blanket the hospital had their newborn resting in. Her mind and body were exhausted beyond belief. But she hadn’t ever been happier than this moment, here with her husband and their newborn.

“Just like their mum,” Freddy agreed, squeezing y/n’s hand as he admired their baby. “You’re seriously so amazing,” he whispered lovingly as he turned back to his wife. He caught sight of the bashful expression she had after his earlier compliment, grinning as he watched it increase with his latest one. He was so amazed by her, especially after today. “You can sleep darling, I’ll watch over you two,” he promised as y/n tried to stay awake.

Y/n hummed softly and shook her head. “You need to rest too,” she whispered. She sat up, despite Freddy’s protests, and leaned forward until she could gently roll the baby bin towards them. Once she stationed it between them, up by her head, she smiled down at their newborn. “There,” she said, looking up at her husband. “Now, you can sleep too,” she offered.

Freddy grinned and kissed the back of y/n’s hand.

“Oh, let me slide over so you can use the bed too,” y/n suggested. But before she could move, Freddy’s hands clamped carefully over her forearms as he restricted her movements.

Freddy shook his head. “I’m fine where I am,” he promised. “You need to let your body heal, darling, you’ve been through a lot,” he reminded her softly.

Y/n gave him a tired smile, clearly not in a state to argue. “If you’re sure,” she mumbled as her eyes became heavier. Once she saw Freddy was seated back on the cushioned window bench beside her, she fully let herself rest against the pillow behind her head. “But, when we get home, I intend to sleep beside my husband,” she said lovingly.

Freddy smiled and squeezed y/n’s hand. “Of course. Anything you want, darling,” he promised. He watched y/n closely until he was sure she’d fallen asleep. He kissed the back of her hand as he checked on their newborn. When he knew his family was safe and resting, he curled up on the bench and laid down beside them to rest.

Y/N’s eyes flew up upon hearing her newborn’s cry. She groggily leaned up, blinking rapidly to get her vision to clear.

Freddy snapped awake upon hearing y/c/n crying. He jumped up from the bench and reached into the rolling bin crib that was beside him. He carefully lifted the baby up into his arms and rocked them slowly as he shushed them. He gave his wife a loving smile briefly upon feeling her eyes on him.

Y/n watched patiently for a few minutes as Freddy desperately tried to get y/c/n to settle down. He was doing everything right, but their newborn hadn’t stopped crying. “Honey,” y/n whispered, setting her hand on Freddy’s forearm. “I think (s)he needs me,” she explained cautiously. She could tell Freddy was a bit upset that he hadn’t succeeded in calming down their little one. Y/n could also tell he was feeling bad that he couldn’t take care of this for her.

Freddy nodded sadly and passed their baby to y/n.

Once y/c/n latched onto her, y/n laid her head back and looked up at her husband. She smiled upon seeing Freddy beaming down at her and their newborn proudly.

Freddy leaned down and pressed a long lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, his hand resting on the outside of her far shoulder lovingly. As his lips left her head he leaned back to take it all in, a blissful look in his eyes. “May I?” Freddy asked, grabbing his camera, “just for us”.

Y/n giggled lightly and nodded. She gazed down at their newborn as Freddy snapped some photos.

“Okay, one with you looking up, please, love,” Freddy requested. He smiled as y/n quickly complied with his request. Once he’d taken the photo of his incredible wife and precious newborn, he set the camer aside and rushed back to y/n. “Okay, sorry,” he gushed as he rubbed her shoulder as their baby continued to nurse, “I’m done”.

“You don’t have to apologize, Freddy,” y/n said with a smile as she turned her head his way.

Freddy gave her an appreciative half-smile. “You’re over here feeding our baby,” he pointed out, “after just having gone through labor for thirteen hours”. He shook his head. “Meanwhile, I’m just taking pictures,” he sighed.

“Freddy,” y/n said. She frowned upon seeing the tears in her husband’s eyes. “Stop,” she ordered, wanting to squeeze his hand but having to settle for a reassuring expression since she was cradling y/c/n as they nursed. “You were by my side the whole time, getting me everything I needed and helping me through as much as you could,” she pointed out with a smile. “You’re an amazing husband and already a wonderful father, please don’t let your tired brain make you believe otherwise.”

Freddy smiled lightly as he tried to blink away the tears in his eyes. He bent his head and kissed y/n’s chapped lips gently as he whispered a thank you. His smile grew when their baby stopped nursing and he was able see their face again. Freddy applied the hand sanitizer beside him and let it dry before putting his left pointer finger against their baby’s tiny soft hand. Y/c/n’s little fist clung onto Freddy’s finger, making both parents smile at them and then each other. Freddy used his right hand to brush some loose hair away from Y/n’s face and gave her another loving kiss. “I’d do anything for our family,” he whispered.

Y/n gazed lovingly at y/c/n as (s)he lay in their crib, sleeping peacefully. She felt Freddy wrap his arms around her carefully, being extremely gentle with her as he knew she was sore. She practically melted back into his embrace as her eyes stayed on their newborn.

They stayed like that for several minutes, just silently admiring their baby and each other.

Freddy was the one to step away first. He placed a tender kiss to y/n’s cheek before unwrapping his arms from her waist. He moved in front of her and took hold of her hands. Freddy slowly and silently guided her towards the rocking chair in the nursery, neither one wanting to wake the baby.

Y/n watched from the padded chair as Freddy quickly made his way out of the room and back. When he returned, he had a y/f/c gift bag in his hand and a smile on his face. Y/n shook her head in disbelief. He’d already gotten so much for her and the baby since finding out she was pregnant.

“Before you say something about how I didn’t need to get you anything,” Freddy whispered teasingly. “First, don’t, because you’ll wake the baby,” he joked with a smirk. “But also, it’s your push gift,” he explained as he passed her the bag.

“Freddy,” y/n whispered, also keeping her voice low as to not wake y/c/n. “You’ve already gotten me, and us, so many gifts that could be considered push gifts, you really-“ she mumbled.

Freddy just shook his head and nodded towards the gift bag he’d set on y/n’s lap.

With a light chuckle, y/n smiled appreciatively at her husband before she opened the gift. Her smile grew ten times as her heart soared upon pulling out the first item. It was a framed heartbeat sound wave of y/c/n from the first time they had heard their baby’s heartbeat. Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered a shaky thank you. She bit her lip as she also pulled out a beautiful photo album. Inside it were photos Freddy had taken throughout her pregnancy and from earlier earlier today in the hospital. “Sweetheart, this is beautiful,” she cooed.

“I can’t have you forgetting just how incredible you are,” Freddy said as he moved to stand beside her. “You were unbelievable today, my darling,” he said as y/n flipped through the photos from the last 24 hours. When she stared up at him with teary eyes and a prideful smile, he knew he’d chosen the right gift. “Thank you,” Freddy said, echoing his appreciation for y/n giving life to their little bundle of joy.

“Freddy, do you know where the diaper bag went when we got home?” Y/n called out from the nursery.

Freddy rushed in with the diaper bag in hand. As he caught his breath, he placed a hand on y/N’s back. “I’ve got this, love,” he offered.

“Oh,“ y/n smiled, “you don’t have-“.

“I know,” Freddy promised as he kissed y/n’s cheek. “But you’ve done more than enough,” he stated. “Now, please, go rest,” he pleaded, “I’ve got this little one”.

Y/n smiled gratefully at her husband. She pressed her lips against his stubbly cheek for a quick kiss. “Alright snuggle bug,” she whispered to their baby. “Daddy is gonna take care of you, okay?” She cooed, making Freddy grin. She gave Freddy another appreciative kiss before heading out of the room.

“Did you change your shirt?” Y/n asked as Freddy entered the living room. She knew she was exhausted, but she could’ve sworn he was in a blue shirt when they left the hospital earlier.

Freddy blushed and nodded bashfully as he walked over towards where y/n was seated.

“Why-“ y/n began but cut herself off and laughed. “Oh,” she giggled realizing what must’ve happened when Freddy was changing y/c/n.

“I’ll get better,” Freddy promised as he sat beside y/n and took her hand in his.

Y/n calmly shook her head. “Sweetheart, I’m not worried,” she assured her husband. She quickly rested her head on his shoulder as he held her to him. “Is (s)he asleep?” She asked tiredly.

Freddy hummed a soft ‘yes’ as he pulled y/n closer. “We should get you to bed too,” he commented. When Y/n gazed up and over at him, he smiled at her. “The book says you should be sleeping when the baby is sleeping,” he explained.

Y/n grinned and pecked Freddy’s nose. “I love you so much,” she remarked.

Freddy beamed. “I love you too, my amazing superwoman,” he replied sweetly.

“Love, it’s alright,” Freddy said trying to stop y/n from crying more. “It’s just bedding, alright?” As he removed the dirty sheets from their mattress he gazed over at his exhausted wife. “Let me go get the laundry started, and then I’ll come help you in the shower, okay?” He offered.

Freddy’s heart broke as y/n simply cried harder. He knew part of it was surely her hormones and exhaustion after everything she had gone through in the last few days. But he was still worried about her nonetheless. “Love, ‘ey, what’s wrong?” Freddy questioned, sensing there was more at play than what he was noticing so far.

“I made a mess, and we’re both tired, but now I kept us from sleeping, and it’s gross, I’m gross, and-,” y/n rambled as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Woah, woah, woah, no,” Freddy argued gently. “Love, you are not gross.” “This is extremely natural. The doctor said this could happen, it’s part of the process,” he reminded y/n. He set the bedding aside for the moment and cupped her face in his palms. “I’m terribly sorry you have to deal with this, but you’re not alone. I’ll be here with you through this as much as I can, love,” Freddy promised. “There is nothing gross about this. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, you can make as much of a mess as you want or need, you just gave birth to our child, do you realize how incredible that is? How much with your body just went through?” He gushed in admiration. “You’re not gross, and don’t worry about my sleep, darling, I promise that’s not a problem in the slightest.” “Come on,” he whispered as he helped y/n stand and lead her to their bathroom. “Can you strip out of these clothes for me while I start the wash?” He asked.

When y/n nodded slowly, Freddy smiled warmly and kissed her forehead. He rushed out of the room to start the laundry. On his way back, he peaked in the nursery to check on y/c/n before quickly making his way back to his wife.

Upon entering their bathroom, Freddy noticed the way y/n was staring at herself in the mirror. She had taken her clothes off and was now just looking at her reflection with a deep frown on her face. Freddy shook his head to himself in disbelief before he walked over to her. “You look beautiful,” he commented casually.

Y/n shook her head. “Freddy-,” she began to argue.

“Yes, you do,” Freddy defended. “I’m still so amazed and appreciative of what you just went through,” he admitted. “And yet, you still look radiant after all of that. I’ll never understand how you do that.”

“Love,” Freddy sighed upon seeing y/N’s tears. He cautiously held her to him, rubbing her back slowly as she tried to calm down. When y/n stopped crying he could see her eyes were once again soft, he smiled down at her. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

Freddy helped comb through the knots in y/n’s hair that had likely formed during her lengthy labor. He lovingly massaged her shoulders and muscles as he went about cleaning her up after the bleeding incident she’d had in their bed. He had always been careful with her; as if she were glass. But tonight he was extremely cautious around her hips/pelvis, only faintly even touching her just enough to get any blood off. Once y/n was cleaned up, Freddy helped her out of the shower and dried them both off. He led her over to the toilet for her to sit on while he dried her hair. But when y/n winced as she sat, Freddy quickly realized the hard surface was a bad choice. “Shit, one moment, love,” he said as he helped her back up. He rushed out of the room, only returning once he had her hospital bag. He helped y/n step into her postpartum underwear. He then set the folded up blanket on top of the toilet seat lid for a better cushioned seat. Freddy was pleased when y/n sat back down without as much pain showing in her eyes. He quickly blow dried her hair before putting it up for her. Freddy helped her off the toilet seat and back to their bedroom. He guided her as she slowly get into bed, each movement clearly hurting her. “I’m going to get your meds,” he said; hating setting her in such pain.

Just as Freddy had reached the doorway to their bedroom, the baby monitor went off with the sound of y/c/N’s crying. Freddy knowingly whipped his head around to look at his wife. “No,” he said, stopping her as she tried to sit back up in order to get out of bed. “I’ve got it!” He rushed out, slightly panicking. “Just rest, please,” he begged as he darted out of the door.

Freddy sprinted into the nursery and scooped their newborn baby up into his arms. He rocked the baby as he walked to the kitchen to grab y/n’s meds. He knew the prescription was not super strong, as the doctor said there was only so much y/n could take while breastfeeding. But, Freddy still hoped it would take the edge off and help her sleep. He very carefully held the baby to him with one arm as he picked up the pills and put them in his pocket before cradling the newborn in both of his arms again. The baby finally stopped its crying as Freddy whispered lovingly to it as he walked back to the main bedroom.

Freddy smiled at his wife as she watched him enter with their child. “Figured you might want to say goodnight,” he smiled, kneeling down beside y/n with their baby in his arms.

Y/n grinned and reached out to take the newborn. She held them to her chest as she sleepily gazed down at them. “Goodnight my little angel,” she cooed. As her eyes began to get heavier, she looked over at Freddy who seemed to have already noticed.

Freddy smiled and kissed y/n’s forehead as he took their baby back into his arms. “Pills are in here,” he informed Y/n as he turned his hip to her; the bottle of medication visible in his pocket.

Y/n smiled appreciatively and pulled the bottle out of Freddy’s pocket.

“I’ll be back with some water, don’t move,” Freddy said as he walked to their door.

After placing the baby back in the crib, Freddy hurried to the kitchen again to grab a water bottle. He filled it and made his way back to the bedroom. Upon entering, he quickly passed it to Y/n to have her take the pain medicine. He bent down and kissed her forehead before he went to his side to get into the freshly made bed. He scooted over and snuggled up to her, carefully holding her.

When y/n noticed Freddy’s resistant and worried touch, she leaned into him. “Thank you,” she whispered. Sensing his confusion, she continued. “You were absolutely incredible today, I’m really glad I had you,” y/n told him.

Freddy kissed y/n’s head. “Ditto, my love,” he whispered. He turned and ensured that the baby monitor was on before facing his wife again. “Rest my dear,” he advised, smiling as she willingly closed her eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” Freddy scolded as he walked into the living room and noticed Y/n was about to vacuum.

“It has to be done, we have people coming over in-“ y/n argued.

“I know,” Freddy nodded, walking over to y/n. “But, I’m doing it, you’re resting,” he said as he took the handle of the vacuum from her.

“Freddy!” Y/n exclaimed with a sigh.

Freddy simply shook his head. “No”. He leaned forward and kissed y/n’s nose. “You should know by now, I’m not going to lose these arguments,” he grinned.

Y/n shook her head back at her stubborn and protective husband. “That was when I was pregnant,” she reminded Freddy. “The baby is fine, me doing chores isn’t going to risk hurt them,” she promised warmly.

“No,” Freddy agreed as he plugged in the vacuum cleaner. “But, it will risk hurting you,” he argued, glancing up at his wife. When y/n sighed, Freddy moved closer to her. “You didn’t truly think my worry when you were pregnant was only about y/c/n’s well-being, did you?” Freddy shook his head in response to his rhetorical question. “I was always worried about you too, my love.”

Y/n closed the space between her and her husband. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his embrace as he held her. “I love you, Freddy,” she whispered against his chest.

“I love you, darling,” Freddy replied tenderly. “Now please, go sit your sweet little arse on the couch, before I have to carry you,” he scolded playfully.

Y/n giggled loudly and shook her head. “I’ll secede to not vacuuming, but I’m going to go check on y/c/n since the sound will likely wake them up,” she argued. “Plus, I want to change them into that insanely cute bear onesie you bought!”

Freddy chuckled happily as he smiled at the excited state of his wife. He nodded in acceptance, “deal”.

“Freddy!” Y/n squealed, coming out of the nursery, holding y/c/n in her arms. The hood on the bear onesie was resting just about their baby’s eyes. Y/n was smiling widely as she showed her husband how cute their child was.

Freddy smiled back and quickly took his phone out to snap a photo before asking y/n to wait so he could get his good camera. With his camera in hand, he ushed back and snapped a ton of photos; some of y/n and y/c/n, some of him and y/c/n, and then some of both of them and y/c/n.

Presently, the new parents had settled y/c/n on one of their blankets on the couch in order to get some photos of just y/c/n. Y/n was gently playing with y/c/n the whole time as Freddy took the photos of their newborn. As such, they did not hear nor see Freddy’s family enter until they were done with the impromptu newborn photoshoot.

Y/n softly rubbed y/c/n’s tiny little nose as Freddy put his camera’s lens cap back on. She smiled to herself as she looked up to see her husband. Only, she caught sight of a group of people behind him. Before she could even process the fact that she knew these people, she had leapt you from the floor and had y/c/n securely in her arms.

Freddy noticed his wife’s fear and instinctually threw himself in front of his wife and their baby. Once he realized that it was their family, he settled and slowly moved to the side. “Did you forget how to knock?” He teased; slightly.

“We did, honey,” Freddy’s mother teased. She slowly made her way over to the couple and gave her son a hug.

“We worried something happened to you lot when no one answered,” Freddy’s oldest brother, Tom, laughed.

Y/n smiled as she watched Freddy’s side of the family embrace and congratulate him. As they turned to her, so too did her husband.

“Not until you use some hand sanitizer,” Freddy ordered his family as he lifted up a new bottle from the table.

Freddy’s family smiled at his protectiveness and complied with his orders before they made their way to y/n and the baby. They all took turns holding the baby, the others talking to y/n and/or Freddy as they waited for their turn to greet the newborn.

Freddy had been watching his wife closely the whole time and realized she was feeling a bit emotional still and overwhelmed. So, he lead her to the couch, making the others follow. “Your mum should be over any minute,” he explained, having been the one to arrange the timing for everyone’s schedules.

Y/n nodded and leaned against her husband as she kept an eye on their newborn.

Freddy noticed y/N’s behavior and kissed the side of her head before resuming doing the same thing himself.

Both sides of the newborn’s family had hung around for quite awhile, even throughout the countless breastfeedings and diaper changes. It wasn’t too late in the traditional sense, barely having hit 5pm, but Freddy was exhausted and he knew his wife was too. So, he kindly asked everyone to leave so the couple could have some alone time with their little one before bed.

“There are just so many cute onesies!” Y/n gushed as she flipped through the collection of baby clothes in y/c/n’s nursery. “Not that (s)he’s not cute enough on their own!” Y/n added quickly.

Freddy chuckled and wrapped his arms around y/N’s waist, placing his head on her shoulder. “I think (s)he should wear the frog one today,” he suggested, eyeing the fuzzy green outfit.

Y/n hummed and picked up the onesie Freddy had requested, setting it to the side. “Frogs it is!” She grinned. She spun around and smiled as she moved in to kiss her husband. “Time to get this little one dressed!” She said walking to the crib.

“Can I?” Freddy asked quietly as he watched his wife approach y/c/n’s crib with the onesie in hand.

Y/n turned to Freddy, her confusion evident on her face. “What?”

“Can I dress them?” Freddy asked with a bite of his bottom lip.

“Of course, handsome!” Y/n reassured. She walked over and cupped Freddy’s cheeks. “Why do you feel you had to ask?” She wondered.

Freddy shrugged with a light laugh. “Sorry, it’s just all so new,” he explained.

Y/n smiled widely and nodded. “In a good way though, right?” She checked.

Freddy vigorously nodded. “Yes,” he promised quickly. “I love this new chapter of our lives,” He grinned.

Y/n hummed in agreement and passed Freddy the frog onesie. “So do I,” she agreed. She watched from the side in bliss as her husband gleefully and cautiously dressed y/c/n inside the crib. “They’re going to adore the frog onesie,” y/n complimented, “great choice, love”. She smiled to herself as she thought about how their friends would react when they came over in an hour to meet y/c/n and were greeted by an adorable little 3 week old baby in a green frog onesie.

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