#he could have been with Annette but she got her final slide with her dad… sorry for trying to repair their relationship I guess it messes

[villainanders]

My first time playing fe I didn’t know you could have your guys get married to each other until the epilogue slides said Bernadetta and Hubert got married so this route I was obsessively leveling up everyone’s support with each other. The epilogue slides were essentially one group wedding

[langdvnshepherd]

Midnight City (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Anonymous asked: dad!duncan trying to put his newborn asleep but bub won’t stop crying no matter how hard their momma and dad try so duncan just puts baby and momma in the car and drives around the city for a bit until bub (and momma) falls asleep. baby stops crying and all you can hear is music playing softly, duncan looks at his wife and bub asleep and gets all mushy :))

A/N: I was just going to leave this under the ask, but I clearly got carried away. This made me so soft and if you couldn’t already tell I love dad!Duncan with my whole heart. Let me know what you think, and please send in more requests! I’m having so much fun working on them all.

Duncan didn’t want to. He really didn’t. He prided himself on being independent from her, especially after everything she’d put him through. However, right now, he was desperate. He’d do just about anything if it meant he could have just one moment of solitude in the prestigious, oversized, borderline mansion he had called home for the past few years. His fingers hovered over the ‘Send’ button on his cell phone, in denial at who he was about to call for advice, parenting advice at that.

“Hello? Hello? Mom?” Duncan yapped into the speaker, speaking a little louder than what Annette thought was necessary, but then again she hadn’t been exposed to the deafening, heartbreaking wails of her newborn granddaughter for two consecutive hours like you and Duncan had.

You laid in yours and Duncan’s bed, hopelessly rocking and swaying and patting your daughter’s fragile spine, but she wouldn’t let up. She’d been screaming like she was in pain for hours now, and both you and Duncan had tried everything in the book to soothe her, but her bawling persisted. You fought back frustrated tears of your own, feeling like shit over not being able to make your own daughter stop crying.

“Yea, we just changed her.”

“No, she doesn’t have a fever. We’ve been checking every twenty minutes”

“She ate right before she started crying. There’s no way she’s hungry.”

Duncan’s voice battled to be heard against your daughter’s as Annette ran him down her mental checklist of what could possibly be wrong with your sweet baby girl. He was pacing the room at the foot of the bed, anxiously running his fingers through the dirty blonde curls that currently laid flat against his head. He had been stressed out because of his workload plenty of times, but this was a new level of worry that consumed every nerve ending in his body. Not only was he beyond hysterical over the fact that he had yet to have one, solid second of silence, but each cry from his daughter that pierced through the walls of his bedroom was another stab wound to his gut. He was absolutely heartbroken that nothing he did could cease her sobbing. Although he knew he it was a bit dramatic to be jumping the gun like this, he felt like a failure of a father already.

“What? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It did?”

“Uh, okay. Guess it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll let you know if it works.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“Bye.”

Duncan turned to face you after he hung up with his mother.

“She said we should put her in the car. Drive her around a bit and see if she falls asleep,” he said while shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands up in the air as if he already knew the idea was a bad one, but it was his last chance at getting any kind of sleep tonight.

“Why would that put her to sleep? you asked through a strained voice, rubbing your bloodshot eyes with your fingers, trying to stay sane.

“I have no idea. Annette said it worked with me when I was a baby, so...”

“Well, neither of us seem to have a better idea. Fuck it.”

You placed your howling daughter in the crib that rested beside your own, suddenly feeling like you were abandoning her and leaving her to wallow in her own despair even though you only sat her down so you could slide on your shoes and throw a sweatshirt on over the ratty t-shirt you hadn’t changed out of in two days.

Duncan raced downstairs to start the car, then raced back upstairs with the fancy, over-the-top baby carrier that you'd only used once before to take her home from the hospital. Whilst you were tying your hair up in the vanity mirror across from your bed, he picked her up from her crib and began bouncing her absentmindedly. He pressed tiny kisses to the side of her head in one final attempt to soothe her before he fastened her safely into the car seat that had to be adjusted in the hospital to accommodate her small size.

Her crying sounded even worse in the car. The confines of Duncan’s Audi, while sizeable compared to other vehicles, were much smaller than the four walls of your bedroom, meaning her shrills sounded three times as loud as it rattled through the leather interior, and through your last thread of sanity. Just before pulling out of your driveway, Duncan reached for your hand, his thumb automatically beginning to stroke yours the second they laced together. It was his silent way of reassuring both you and himself that everything was going to be okay. Even if that seemed like the furthest thing from the truth

“I hope to god this works,” he huffed before peeling out of the driveway and onto the busy streets of Washington DC.

And it did. Before you even left the gates of your private neighborhood, she had conked out. Her wails became simple cries, and her cries died down to blubbery whimpers. And then silence. The stream of tears that spilled for hours from her eyes that looked just like Duncan’s, but only one shade darker, had dried. Her tiny fists that had been tensed up from the continuous strain of discomfort had relaxed, they now rested folded up near her face, something you noticed she always did when she slept.

Duncan opted to keep driving. He’d barely been anywhere besides CVS at midnight since the baby was born, rushing out the door after you’d realized you were out of something for the baby or needed more coffee to keep you awake the next morning. And you’d been nowhere at all, too preoccupied with caring for your daughter to be granted the pleasure of seeing the city beyond the skyline that was visible from the balcony connected to your bedroom.

You navigated your way through the streets of downtown, watching the lights of each skyscraper whiz by as Duncan continued up the block. The two of you made small talk, referencing to the landmarks in the city that marked important milestones of your relationship with each other: the restaurant where you’d had your first date, the exact bench in the park where you’d meet for coffee on your lunch breaks at your old job, the street corner where you’d jumped out of Duncan’s car in a fit of rage, the start of the first but certainly not last rough patch in your relationship.

You even passed Duncan’s old apartment complex, where you’d argue was where your love blossomed. It was where you’d first kissed him, on the couch after too many glasses of wine. Where you’d first made love to each other, in the cool sheets of Duncan’s king-size bed that you swore to this day you’d never found anything as cozy. It was where you’d held Duncan for hours and hours when he called you over at 1am with the earth-shattering news that his mother wasn’t actually his mother. Where you’d first said “I love you” to each other after making up from a deafening argument you thought was the end.

The high-rise, steel building held a file folder full of memories of the two of you that was bursting at the seams, and a part of you often missed little things about it like the comfort of the leather sofa that you’d spent many nights cuddled into Duncan’s side on or crying into his shoulder or the small breakfast nook in his kitchen that overlooked the White House garden, but the house you moved into with Duncan after marrying him meant so much more. It was a symbol of all of the hard work that went into building up your relationship after years and years of testing its strength. It was where you’d grow old together. Where your daughter, and however many blue-eyed and curly-headed children you’d be blessed with in the future, would grow up. It was home.

You began to see why your daughter had dozed off so quickly. The consistent rattle of the car and the occasional sound of the city rocked you in a way, pulled you from consciousness and wrapped you lovingly in the arms of sleep. It had been weeks since you’d slept properly, but even with your head pressed against the uncomfortable car door that would definitely give you a crick in your neck, you’d never felt more at ease.

Duncan still held onto your hand as he drove, relishing the warmth that radiated from your palm and the burst of light that pierced through the windshield each time a street lamp cast its beams on the wedding band resting comfortably on your ring finger. He recalled the weeks it had taken him to pick it out. He swore to this day that the premature wrinkle he had on his forehead was caused by the very incident. Everything had to be perfect. The ring, the dinner, the dress, the monologue. And it was, despite knowing you’d be just as happy with him asking you over delivery pizza and a shitty horror movie. You deserved the best, because he was convinced no one in the world could or ever would love and take care of him the way you did.

As Duncan circled the roundabout that would lead you back to the house, he couldn’t help but feel another wave of relief. He’d been feeling them quite often in the past year. When you told him you were pregnant, when you’d fall asleep next to him with your soft, round belly pressing against his own, when he’d first held his daughter just seconds after you’d pushed her out, when he looked over your shoulder astonishingly as you breastfed for the first time.

It was all coming together now, despite spending his early twenties convinced he’d be a permanent bachelor, banished from having longterm, meaningful relationships and left to use one night stands and whiskey as a replacement. He had a successful business, his own house, a wife whom he loved with every fiber of his being, and now daughter that made his heart soar in places he never thought possible. Even when she screamed ceaselessly into the early hours of the morning.

This was his life now, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

//

Only taggin a few since this isn’t a /real/ one:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @wroteclassicaly @sojournmichael @venusxxlangdon @langdonshell @1-800-bitchcraft @hecohansen31 @readsalot73 @gold-dragon-slayer 

[turnertimeline]

July 15, 1966

Collection: Tim and Annie

Year: 1966

Characters: Timothy Turner, Annette Thompson, Trixie Franklin, Shelagh Turner

Content Warnings: child birth

Rating: T

Style: Prose

Summary: BABY TIME

Annie goes into labor on a disgustingly hot day in July. At first, she just chalked her discomfort up to the heat and the fact that she’s five days overdue. Tim is out at the store, getting ice and a new fan, because just one in each room was not helping. Bless his soul, he offered to go out and get her another for her room so she could at least be somewhat cool. It wasn’t until early in the afternoon the pain was increasing and coming at more regular intervals.

Heaving herself up off the bed, Annie makes it to the door and calls down to Tim, asking him to come up to her. Before she could make it back to the bed a contraction sent her doubling over and leaning against the wall for support.

At her shout of his name, Tim jumps where he’s reading on the sofa. Not even bothering to close his book he darts up the stairs taking them two a time.

“Are you alright?” Worry is filling his voice.

Annie rolls her eyes a little at his worry the breathlessness from running up the stairs.

She nods and pushes back up from the wall.

“I need you to call Nonnatus.” She gives him a small smile.

He can't help the grin that breaks out. "Really?"

"Yes really. Looks like someone is finally ready to meet us."

Tim helps her back to the bed before bounding back down the stairs. On the phone, Tim has to hold the receiver away from his ear when Carol, one of the newer midwives, shouts excitedly for Trixie. And he has to hold it even further away at Trixie’s reaction.

In record time Trixie is at their flat and teasingly scolding Annie for not having called her sooner.

Annie grins. "What can I say? I know how fast you cycle. Little one's impatient to meet us."

Tim comes back upstairs once he's rang his mum and dad.

Raps lightly on the door. Annie said he wanted him there, but it's different when it's actually happening.

Annie can't imagine doing this without him by her side

She calls for him to come in and he enters slowly, wanting to give Annie time to cover up if she needs to.

Trixie looks amused. Annie extends her hand to him, though.

"Get over here, you."

At her last check up, Annie had brought up the possibility of Tim not just being there, but helping Trixie. She knew that it would mean the world to Tim. It would be a great story, the first baby he helped deliver was his own son.

And she can't helping thinking a little about getting to tell her baby that their Daddy had always been there. In every sense.

Tim was stunned.

He knew she wanted him with her when she gave birth, but he thought that he would be holding her hand or sitting behind her like his dad when Teddy was born. Mostly trying not to get in Trixie's way.

He knows the issue of Men in the Birth Room is one Trixie is fairly progressive about but even so. She has been known to banish men from the *street* a mother is giving birth in.

Trixie might kick him out to the hallway when she checks dilation, but only if Annie is uncomfortable with him there.

And she isn't.

Or well, a little bit, in the sense that Trixie checking dilation is a bit uncomfortable in general.

But not because Tim's there, it's easier to relax with Tim by her side.

Tim keeps her hand in his throughout the checks, and lets her crush his fingers without complaint when contractions hit.

Shelagh gets there in the evening, after Angie and Teddy have been given dinner.

Shelagh arrives and calls up to them, Trixie calls that all's well and moving like clockwork, and Annie asks, quiet and small

"Can - can she come in?"

Trixie looks to Annie and smiles. "Of course she can. I'll go get her."

Patting Annie on the knee, Trixie gets up to go ask Shelagh to join them.

Annie looks at Tim. "She won't mind?" She looks worried.

"Annie. Mum will be so happy to."

"I want her to be here when her grandchild is born."

Tim can't find any words to describe the feeling that gave him. So he just leans in and presses a kiss to Annie's temple.

As Trixie returns with Shelagh in tow the find Annie squeezing hard on Tim's hands as another contraction comes on.

"That's it sweetie," Trixie encourages. "Good girl."

Shelagh waits until the contraction has passed to approach the bed.

Annie leans into her with a relieved sigh, grinning when she can't go that far - Shelagh's got an iron core and is holding her up .

"I've got you sweetheart," Shelagh murmurs to her, too quietly for the other two to really catch.

Shelagh slides her hand up and down Annie's back, and when the next contraction hits, presses against her lower back to help counteract the pain.

Annie collapses back against Shelagh once it's passed, and Tim looks at his mum with a bit of worry.

Shelagh catches his expression. "It's alright, love. Just hurts."

Annie snorts in a way that very clearly indicates that's an understatement.

"In fact, everything is going perfectly." Trixie adds.

Annie's labor continues in much the same manor for another few hours. Leaning into Shelagh, and squeezing Tim's hands through the contractions.

A little bit of back and forth that Annie actually quite likes.

Helps the anxious nerves.

Annie is so relieved when Trixie tells her that she's fully dilated.

It's been a long labor, and she’s more than ready to meet her baby.

That's when Trixie asks Tim if he still wants to help.

Tim looks to Annie first, before answering. She gives him a little nod and he presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead before leaving her side.

Trixie gets him settled in position, for now helping to hold her legs, giving her something to push against. Trixie talks him through everything she's doing, making sure to reassure Annie too.

"I can see the head, Annie." Tim's voice is full of wonder and excitement.

Annie manages a strained laugh at his voice and at the fact her baby was coming

their baby.

Trixie gently rested Tim's gloved hands against the baby's head.

Tim's eyes go wide and he looks up at Annie. She's able to give him a small smile before another contraction hits accompanied by Trixie telling her to push and Shelagh whispering soothing words.

"Right, Tim, that's it, just cradle them - good girl, Annie! We have your baby’s head!"

Trixie watches them carefully, nodding approvingly at what Tim is doing.

Annie lets out a sobbed laugh and falls into Shelagh.

"Tim, very carefully, switch positions with me." Trixie instructs. They move together and end up with Trixie supporting Annie's leg while Tim is between them.

"Perfect," Trixie praises. "Now then, Annie, I think we'll have baby on your next push. Tim, be ready. Hand under the baby but not pulling."

Shelagh helps Annie sit up a bit, "You've got this sweet girl. One more and baby will be here."

Annie gives a determined nod and on the next contraction pushes as hard as she can.

"That's it, that's it! Good girl! You did it!" Trixie encourages.  

The baby crying is the best and most precious thing Annie has ever heard. On the 15th of July, 1966 at nearly three in the morning, Annie’s baby finally joined the world.

Tim can't even speak, he has the baby in his hands, and he's definitely crying. Trixie is quickly clamping the cord and setting out a clean towel to wrap the baby in while Tim marvels at the tiny baby in his arms.

Shelagh's crying too, as she's hugging Annie hard. "You did so well darling."

Tim places the baby down on the towel Trixie placed on the end of the bed and takes the scissors offered by Trixie to cut the cord before he bundles the little one up.

Walking around to the side of the bed he sits down next to Annie who has her arms out.

Gently Tim places the baby Annie's arms.

Annie lets out a sob and holds her baby close, running a finger down the tiny nose, over chubby little cheeks. “Hello my love.”

"He's so perfect." Tim whispers kissing Annie's head.

"He?" She can't tear her eyes away. "We have a little boy?"

Tim nods. He still can't talk, his voice choked, throat thick.

Shelagh peers over Annie's shoulder at her grandson's face.

"Oh, Annie," Shelagh murmurs. "He's beautiful."

The little boy fights to get his arms unwrapped and tucks one little fist up by his mouth. Annie trails a gentle finger over the curl of his hand, memorizing him.

Tim leaves her side to deal with his gloves and rinse his hands and then he's back.

He strokes a hand over the baby's head, his tiny little fingers

"He's perfect," Tim finally manages to murmurs. "Love you, little one."

Trixie watches the precious moment of the small family and Shelagh gets up to give her friend a hug. In Shelagh's absence, Annie shifts with a slight wince to lean more into Tim.

Tim takes her weight happily and is all eyes for their new little baby.

"Proud of you," he murmurs to Annie and kisses her temple.

Annie lets out a little giggle. "I'm proud of you too. You delivered your first baby." She turns her head to look at him. "And he did a splendid job." Trixie adds, walking over to the side of the bed. "How about Shelagh gives little man here his first bath while we see if we can get the afterbirth over with?"

Annie smiles and hands the baby to Shelagh. "Go help her, Tim. Me and Trixie will be alright here."

Tim gets up and mostly watches as Shelagh shows him how to wash such a little baby.

"Just a little bit more work and you'll be able to rest." Trixie assures Annie, rubbing the side of her leg.

Annie pulls a face but nods. "I already want him back in my arms."

Trixie gives her a knowing smile. "Soon, it shouldn't be long now and it'll all be over. You did a magnificent job today. But we need to make sure the placenta is out."

Annie nods, her face settling into a determined expression and wincing at how sore she is

It's not much longer until the afterbirth is over and Annie can have her little boy back in her arms. As much as she wants to get up and wash, she wants her baby in her arms more.

Shelagh kisses her temple. "My love. I'm so proud of you, and your beautiful little boy. I'm just going to ring Patrick and tell him the good news - I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

Shelagh hands the the now clean and diapered little boy back to Tim and slips out of the room.