#infant hiccups

[champignondubled]

Hiccup, heather & dagur - sister and brothers childhood

harold, ingrid & dagur - frères et soeur

[nexus-nebulae]

found my ancient mp3 player recently. finally found a charger for it and plugged it in. and remembered i found a yt playlist of the whole httyd movie chopped up into like 20 videos and i downloaded the mp3s of all of them to listen to on the school bus. which is why i can effortlessly quote the whole first movie now

[solaratelier]

Spending time with the baby of the house!

[irlsimmer]

family's first trip to sulani!

[zepskies]

This One's For You

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || Ben & daughter!OC (Lila)

Summary: Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

AN: Thanks to this request, this one’s set between Until Morning and Green in the BMD-verse.

Word Count: 1.2K

Song Inspo: "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's

Tags/Warnings: Grumpy Ben, established relationship, potential fluff overload.~

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

“Your daughter’s awake,” Ben grumbled into his pillow.

He didn’t need to have sensitive hearing to pick up on the infant’s whining in her crib.

“She’s only my daughter when she has a rough night.” You sighed and turned away from him on your side of the bed. You clutched at your pillow. “It’s your turn, pal.”

His eyes cracked open. He gave you a look of annoyance behind your back.

“I have to get up in three hours for work,” he said.

You didn’t seem to care. You were so tired, he already heard your deeper breaths in sleep. In fairness, you essentially hadn’t slept for three days now. Your daughter was a demanding little thing, with some powerful goddamn lungs.

When another insistent whine and a hiccupping cry reached his ears, Ben released a sound of frustration. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until the house was silent again, so after another beat, he finally peeled back the covers. Sliding out of bed, he padded out on bare feet down the hall to the nursery, wearing his usual pair of sweatpants.

He peered over the side of the crib and found Lila blinking up at him. Her tears clung to her lashes as she wriggled around in upset.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked, as if the baby could answer him.

He reached in with careful hands and picked her up, resting her on his chest. She sniffed and predictably latched onto his hair as she cried.

He checked her in various ways, but she didn’t smell like a full diaper (upon which, he would've handed her over to you). She seemed fine, which meant she was being finicky just for the hell of it.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Come on,” he said as he paced the room with her. “Quiet the fuck down already.”

Still, she wouldn’t stop crying. The whimpers were pitiful, but at least they weren’t ear-splitting wails this time. He just really needed her to stop so he could sleep, expeditiously.

After several minutes with no improvement, however, Ben sighed and dropped down into the rocking chair. He was coming to the end of his tether.

“All right, what’s it gonna take for you to relax?” he muttered. At this point, he wasn’t above bribery. Candy? Money? A new fucking car? Hell, he’d get her a fleet of Ferraris if it’d make her pipe down.

He held Lila in the crook of his arm and tried rocking back and forth in the chair. When that didn’t work, he tried humming a tune—something he’d heard on the radio that now wouldn’t get out of his damn head. The only reason he remembered it was because of his daughter’s name.

“Oh, it’s what you do to me, oh, it’s what you do to me,” he sang softly, deep and baritone, and a little coarse from sleep. (And possibly a little off-key.)

Lila seemed to ease up a little in response to his voice, blinking up at him with those pretty green eyes. Maybe that was the solution.

He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment. He looked in the doorway to make sure he was alone before he kept going with this.  

Okay, what’re the words to the goddamn song…

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?” he started, a bit unsure. The baby blinked up at him, holding a little fist in her mouth. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks while she whimpered, but she looked like she was listening, at least. 

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty,” Ben continued. He couldn’t help softening a bit, looking down on her. He swept a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Tomorrow he was scheduled for another mission out of New York, with Butcher and the rest of the team. Ben didn’t know how long he’d be gone.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance,” he sang, “I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was hard to leave you and Lila. She was still so small, and he didn’t like the thought of you two being alone, even if Frank was watching out for you.

But Ben had a job to do.

“Close your eyes,” he almost whispered. “Listen to my voice, it’s my disguise. I’m by your side…”

Lila had begun to settle down. He dried her tears as he continued to rock her, continued to hum the melody of the chorus. He couldn’t remember most of the song after that, but there were a few more lines he did have rolling around in his head.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” he sang quietly. “This one’s for you…”

 Just then, Ben thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and found you there, leaning in the doorway. You were holding up your cell phone.

His brows knitted together in a glare.

“What the fuck’re you doing?” he said, sharp and incredulous.

“Shhh,” you reminded him, pointing at the baby. He saw your smirk below the frame of the phone.

Ben looked down and found that Lila was finally asleep. Gritting his teeth, he got up slowly. You were filming him all the while, even with your hair wild in bedhead and your pajama top hanging off your shoulder. Apparently, embarrassing him was more important than sleep.

Ben gently set her back down in the crib. Once he made sure she was safe and settled in sleep, he turned and saw that you were still filming him. He hoped you captured the deathly look of warning on his face.

You bit your lip. Without either of you saying anything, you darted off down the hall. Ben stalked after you.

“Woman, you better get the fuck back here!” he hissed in a coarse whisper. You struggled to contain your laughter.

“You’ll have to catch me first, old man,” you teased.

He chased you around the house—almost knocking over a lamp in the process—until he got ahold of you, and more importantly your phone. He grabbed it out of your hand and held you flush against him with an ironclad arm around your waist.

Ben looked down at you both in satisfaction, and a warning not to try anything else. You laughed and took his bearded face in your hands. You pulled him down to you for a placating kiss.

"You do have a nice voice," you whispered near his lips.

"Shut it. You're on thin fucking ice with me," he groused, with a shake of his head when it only reignited your inane giggling.

His lips reluctantly tugging at a smile, he silenced you with a deeper kiss.

The joke was on him though. While you were running around, you already managed to drop that video into the group chat with Hughie, Annie, and all the rest of your friends at Supe Affairs.

Come the morning, Ben was about to have a very interesting day at the office. 

AN: 😂 Did you enjoy another dose of dad!Ben in the BMD-verse? 💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben gets his revenge in Lesson Learned:

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lesson Learned

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @rizlowwritessortof @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[judasofsuburbia]

“what? hello?” steve mumbled sleepily into the phone.

“i’m going insane,” eddie nearly shouts.

steve sits up in his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. “woah woah, eds, what’s goin on?”

a high pitched wail is heard in the background and eddie is immediately cooing and shushing. steve presses the phone tighter to his ear.

“eds. eds, can you hear me?”

“i’m going insane i’m going insane i’m going insane,” eddie breathes. “she won’t stop crying steve she’s been crying for two hours—fuck, three hours. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what to do steve.”

“who’s crying?” steve asks.

“my cousin. or my niece, maybe? i don’t know how it works. my cousin’s baby is here and she won’t stop crying.”

more crying and wailing is heard. steve has to hold the phone away from his ear when eddie gets closer to her. he can hear eddie pleading with her, trying to comfort her, to no avail.

“i need help,” eddie says. “i need help, please.”

“uh, okay. okay,” steve replies as he rolls out of bed and stumbles around his room in the dark to find some pants and shoes. “i can be there in ten.”

“make it five,” eddie nearly whines, anxiety pouring through the receiver.

“got it.”

steve’s tires screech into eddie’s driveway. his trailer is the only one with the lights still on and he could hear the baby crying from outside. he’s surprised no one has called to complain to the police station. though he’s sure callahan or hopper would simply hang up.

steve barrels up the steps and opens the door to utter chaos. toys and books scatter the ground, there are blankets and bottles strewn over surfaces (some definitely knocked over and spilling onto the floor), and baby clothes and diapers in the leftover spaces. and of course, a screaming infant.

eddie pops out of his room with said infant trashing in his arms. eddie has tears streaming down his fact too and steve’s heart just cracks.

“help me,” eddie mouths.

“uh, okay, okay,” steve is wracking his brain for any tips he learned in home economics about taking care of a baby. “what have you tried? i presume she’s in a clean diaper and…” god it was hard to think with the noise screeching in his ears. “fed her?” steve asks louder.

“yes fuck, i keep changing her and trying to feed her. i read her stories and rocked her and tried to put her in her crib. she’s so upset i don’t know why,” eddie’s voice cracks on the last word and suddenly, steve’s across the room. ready to comfort him.

“give her here,” steve says.

eddie’s eyes are panicky and wide but eventually, he hands steve the child. she continues to cry and thrash in steve’s arms so it takes a second for him to hold her properly.

“what’s her name?” steve asks.

“cheyenne” eddie responds, arms wrapped around himself like a hug. his whole body is bouncing and steve feels the urge to reach out and bring him in too but the more pressing matter is currently occupying those arms.

“hi cheyenne,” steve says gently. “seems like you’re mighty upset.”

she yanks at steve’s shirt with her little baby fists, definitely grabbing some chest hair underneath and ripping it. steve winces but recovers quickly.

“would your neighbors kill me if i take her outside?”

“probably,” eddie mutters.

“i’m going to anyway.”

steve heads for the front door and eddie goes to follow him but steve holds out a patient hand. “stay here, take a breath,” steve instructs.

eddie’s eyes well up with more tears. “but what if something—“

“then we’ll do something. right now, being around her isn’t good for you. let me take a crack at this, alright?”

eddie nods solemnly and backs away so steve can open the door.

cheyenne��s cries echo out into the night sky as steve starts to pace around the porch. steve starts to feel a little scared being alone with her but he’s more scared of what the stress has done to eddie.

so he decides to do it scared.

the baby starts to have this hiccuping breaths that pull steve out of his thought spiral. steve shushes her and props her up so her head is on his shoulder. he rubs her back with his hand, which takes up her entire back, and tries to stay calm when her cries are right next to his ear.

“you like music? 'course you do, everyone does.i don’t know how many lullabies eddie knows. his taste is a little more intense,” steve says conversationally as he continues to pace. “i don’t even think i know any lullabies. um…”

cheyenne cries with new fervor right into his neck and steve just panic sings the first song that comes to mind, “shake it up is all we know. using bodies up as we go. i’m waking up a fantasy. the shades are all the colors we used to see.”

cheyenne’s cries go down a peg, still loud but less wailing and more whimpering. steve’s heart is racing as he slowly continues the song.

“broken ice still melts in the sun. and ties that are broken can be one again. we’re soul alone and soul really matters to me.”

cheyenne keeps crying but it's getting softer by the second. steve rearranges her so she's cradled in his arms. he's blown away by how small she is. how helpless. everything must be so scary for her.

“i'm out of touch,” steve sings softly. “you're out of time. but i'm out of my head when you're not around. oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh.“

cheyenne's eyes open up and they're this big beautiful brown, just like eddie's. his breath is taken away as he keeps singing weakly. he doesn't even realize that she stops crying entirely and is just blinking at him, dazed.

it takes eddie slowly opening the front door for him to recognize the silence. he sits on the couch and bounces her gently in his arms, still humming and singing the occasional "oh's". eddie very slowly and quietly sits beside him.

steve looks up at eddie who is staring at him in awe. the same beautiful brown eyes are puffy and swollen, just like cheyenne's.

“c'mon eds, sing it with me,” steve jokes quietly.

eddie shakes his head. “i can't believe she's a hall and oates fan.”

“everyone is,” steve says simply and sings, “i'm out of touch.” he gestures to eddie to continue.

“i'm out of time,” eddie sings, looking incredibly pained to do so.

“but i'm out of my head,” steve leans his ear to the side.

“when you're not around,” eddie says flat, voice raspy from his exhaustion. it makes steve's stomach flip so he returns his attention to the near asleep girl in his arms.

they keep humming until she's fully asleep. steve leans back into the couch with a long exhale, his shoulders rubbing up against eddie's.

“you're magical,” eddie whispers.

“please,” steve scoffs.

“i'm serious,” eddie replies. steve turns his head to face him and nearly chokes from how close their faces are.

”i don't know how you do it,“ eddie mumbles.

”do what?“

”make everyone around you so calm. i feel like all i can do is make everyone stressed out,” eddie laughs weakly.

steve shakes his head. ”not true. just ask buckley, i stress her out on a daily basis.“

eddie chuckles and sniffles. steve sees his lips stretch over his teeth in a smile.

”thank you for coming over. i didn't know who else to call.“

”how did you end up with your baby cousin anyway?“ steve asks.

eddie sighs, tilting his head back into the cushion. if he leaned his head closer, he'd be on steve's shoulder. steve wishes he would.

”her mom is taking a much needed vacation and i promised wayne that he didn't need to take time off work to take care of her. that was a huge mistake.“

”you did your best,“ steve argues quietly.

”maybe but it wasn't enough.“

”hey, c'mon. don't beat yourself up. you did what you could and found help when you couldn't. it's not your fault this is her only form of communication.“

eddie smiles again and yawns. ”you wouldn't happen to have this album on cassette would you?“

steve beams at him. ”in my car, actually.“

”i'm getting it.“

they put cheyenne to bed with the big bam boom album playing softly on eddie's stereo. they stare at her peaceful form snoozing away and seem to forget how she looked not even a half hour ago.

”you should get some sleep,” steve whispers, nudging eddie with his shoulder.

“you're right, you're right,” eddie sighs. he gestures that he's gonna walk steve to the door. steve grabs his keys and turns before opening the door.

“thank you again,” eddie whispers.

“anytime. hall and oates always heals,” steve smiles.

eddie rolls his eyes fondly and shoves steve's shoulder. only, his hand doesn't move away. it splays out over steve's beating heart which is rapidly picking up speed. eddie's eyes slowly drift up to catch steve's.

“i was listening to that song yesterday,” steve whispers. “over and over and over again.”

“you must really like it,“ eddie says, a little confused.

”no. i mean, i do but…“ steve whispers. ”i was listening to it because... i start to go a little insane when i'm not around you.“

eddie's brows furrow. ”w-what do you mean?“

”can't keep you out of here,“ steve explains, tapping his temple. ”i don't know what to do. this is where i need help, eds.”

eddie's lips part in a silent gasp. he takes a step closer and rubs his thumb over steve's shirt. steve's hand comes up and covers his.

“i can help,” eddie whispers, tilting his head up so their noses brush.

that's how steve and eddie share their first kiss in eddie's living room, sleep deprived and unhurried. just four lips gently sliding over one another.

when they pull away with tired smiles, eddie murmurs, “in case she wakes up, you should probably sleep over.”

(inspired by @gothbat99 's wonderful steve harrington playlist)

[bagofshinyrocks]

A Little Bump on the Head

Prompt: As your and Simon’s little man is exploring the living room, he bumps his head. Simon is almost more upset than the baby is. [Requested by anonymous]

Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.6k

Warnings: none

You were so relieved when the little man started to entertain himself.

Watching birds and dogs outside, building blocks, sorting colorful balls and toys, climbing through a series of tunnels made by his daddy from recycling.

Simon was home as much as possible, deployments never being more than a week, and demanding desk-duty or training on base. But it was still hard to run a two-adult one-infant household with both of you only getting a few hours of home-making between you. 

And sometimes, both of you needed some sleep. Sometimes he had a late night at work. Sometimes baby decided to scream at 4 AM and scare both of you so horribly that you couldn’t fall back asleep even after the baby was all snork mi mi mi.

You were re-reading some comics on the couch, encouraging the little man as he scribbled on his coloring pages or crawled to follow the robot vacuum. Once Simon finished loading the dishwasher, he came in and flopped on top of you.

“Ohhhh, what a comfortable pillow.”

“Heavy,” you grunted, freeing your arms and wrapping them around your husband.

“You callin’ me fat?”

“Just a smidgen. In a sexy way.”

Your baby suddenly sat up and vocalized. A happy smile when his dad waved. With a great heave, he pulled himself up on the chair and started making his way over to you.

Eager coos and cheers from both of you, as he waddled from the chair to the coffee table.

A hiccup! An obstacle! Your son falls on his bum. But he perseveres and pulls himself back up again.

But he misjudges and bonks his head on the underside of the coffee table instead. He falls back on his rear. And his sweet face crumbled and flushed as he started to cry.

Both of you jerked forward, reaching for him and starting to comfort him. Simon rolled off you  and onto the floor and scooped the boy up in his arms.

“Oh, bubba,” he hushed, cradling the lightly bumped head into his chest, “it’s alright. You’re alright.”

You wrapped around your husband and gently rubbed your son’s back. He stopped fussing fairly quickly, just sniffling and holding on tight to his daddy.

The top of your boy’s head had only a slight bump on it; nothing you needed to worry about. A light reddened line where he hit the corner, and not even that raised of an egg. He had done this a couple times before.

You looked to Simon to reassure him that the boy was okay and almost started tearing up yourself. The baby was quietly leaning into his daddy’s chest, and your husband was the one fighting back tears.

“Baby,” you coo, cupping Simon’s face in your hands and kissing his cheek. Then kissing your son’s before he could get jealous. “Baby, he’s fine. Just a little bump. He’s had worse.”

Simon nodded, not trusting his voice, and kissed the top of the baby’s head.

A few minutes later, the boy was crawling through his cardboard maze. Moisturized. Flourishing. Living his best life. And now you had your husband in your arms.

“He’s alright.”

“I know but he bumped his head while coming to see me-”

“Shush. Not your fault.” You leaned him back and pinched his nose.

“He’s just learning his gross motor skills. It happens.”

Simon rubbed his nose. “They’re not gross.”

You almost laughed in his face, but didn’t, you were a good spouse. He was still upset. “As in gross motor skills versus fine motor skills.”

“... Oh.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2023 December 25

[semperamans]

I can’t stop thinking about protective Benny ugh

me too, doll. me fuckin' too.

this can be triggering for some as there are mentions of unwanted contact and violence, so im gonna ask that you read only if you feel up for it!

he just wants to know who did it, s'all. that's what he tells you as he wipes your tears. "d'you know what they looked like, mm?" he's got his palms pressed against your cheeks, bent down practically on his knees in front of you. "remember anythin' at all, baby?" and you don't know :( not really. there are hundreds of bikers gathered in this forgotten field somewhere outside of chicago, all of them so fucked that they hardly know their name, and you thought you were safe standing at the fire with the wives and girlfriends while benny went to take a piss but no. your back had been turned when you felt the brush of an unfamiliar hand over the swell of your ass, smelled the offensive odor of a mouth that hadn't seen a toothbrush in god knows how long, heard the indecent words spiked with whiskey and ill-intent and benny just wants to know but you're sobbing these big wet sobs that he can't seem to get under control.

"he was- he had-" you're all start and no finish and benny just wants to put you in his pocket where no one can get you :( but he can't :( so he just brings you closer, presses your head against his chest, and lets you cry until you finally have the coherence to tell him about the spider tattoo on the assailant's hand. and okay, now benny knows and great, you're starting to calm down a bit. he consoles you, doesn't tell you it's okay because it's not but he is here. "m'right here. okay? feel me, honey. c'mon, give me your hands." he rubs your fingers over his cheeks, they're so soft, then you explore the coarse hair of his beard "m'right here. s'okay. nothin' is gonna happen to you." down his nose, across his jacket, venturing toward the studs that make out his intials and now you're more present just breathlessly hiccuping and latched onto the dingy white shirt benny wears beneath his cut. "need you to sit with johnny for me, okay? i gotta go take care of somethin'." johnny doesn't ask what happened because benny has that look in his eyes and he knows he'll be making a trip to county later if he's lucky or the pen if benny kills the guy, but that's just fine. johnny takes you, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, allowing you to hide your face in his neck because even in your state you know benny is about to make a scene. "m'gonna be back. okay? promise. stay with johnny. he's not gonna let nothin' happen to you."

time drips on in that sluggish, anticipatory way and you're practically asleep by the time benny returns. he no longer wears a shirt, just his denim vest that's splattered with blood and those worn levis with the knees practically blown out. you sit up so quickly it makes you dizzy. "s'alright." benny assures you, hands up in a placating way. oh, there's his shirt torn to shreds and being used as bandages for his no doubt destroyed knuckles. "gotta get outta here, yeah?" johnny helps you stand, passing your hand to benny's so so gently. "you're gonna stay with me tonight. need you call your momma and let her know you won't be makin' it home." and you don't go home. you spend the rest of the night latched onto benny like a woebegone infant and he doesn't mind in the slightest. “m’sorry, baby. won’t let nothin’ like that happen again.”

[crypt-keepers-den]

I need more of Astarion and his little spawns- You don't understand how much I fucking loved that fic, PLEASE WE NEED MORE DADDY STARION 😭😭😭

I DIED BUT NOW IM BACK ENJOY!

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Astarion never claimed he'd be a good father, but as soon as your little ones arrived into the world he sure was the proudest. When Lyra, your oldest had been born he fainted (can vampires faint idk), and when you announced your pregnancy with your youngest, Caspian, he was elated and told anyone who'd listen that his darling was blessing him with a second child.

when your oldest was born he was too frightened to hold her, in fear that he'd hurt her, but after a long talk from you (and a stern talking from halsin who'd offered to help you deliver naturally) he did hold her, frozen in place however as he did so. "she's perfect my darling" soft silvery tears cascading down his pale cheeks as the new-born yawns, when your youngest was born, he was prepared this time, holding your hand with confidence as you brought a new life into the world, bringing your 1yr old daughter into the bedroom to meet her baby brother, the elf had a grin etched on his face.

becoming a parent is one thing, but a parent to a dhampir baby is another, when lyra started teething you found out the harsh way. One evening you had lifted the infant to breastfeed her, settling back down on the couch with the infant nestled to your chest as she contently latched, your adoring husband sitting next to you a book in hand, his free hand stroking the top of his daughter's head. "star, read that page again i was too focused on lyra" he nods starting again until he heard a sudden yelp from you, "my love whatever's wrong?" he watches you exam the giggling baby's mouth "holy Avernus, star she's got fangs!" his eyes widened at your discovering as he leans over to see what your talking about, your holding the drooling baby's mouth open to allow him to see the two little white points that had pierced through lyra's gum. His eyes widen now understanding what had happened causing him to laugh, earning him a rough slap to the shoulder and a stern glare. safe to say you switched from breastfeeding to bottle and continued to do so with your second born (not that it helped but it saved your poor breasts from being gummed on by your children atleast).

Astarion prided himself in his inability to say 'no' to his children, "papa can i has?" caspian stares up at his father with the same puppy dog eyes you use on him, "caspian no treats before dinner!" you'd call out, the little boy would then pout before looking back up at his daddy, "papa a'peas", oh dear your son has him in the palm of his chubby little hands, astarion cant remember his childhood anymore, nothing but faint smells of what he assumes is his mother's perfume, but he does remember having nothing when he was under cazadors control. And he had made a promise at each child's birth, they'd never suffer like he had and they'd want for nothing. in this scenario its astarion sneaking your son a cookie before dinner, the pair hiding under the kitchen table laughing "our little secret little starling" , "you two know i can see you right?" "quick run!". with choas ensueing as you chastise the pair for ruining their appetite for dinner.

"lyra please stopping scaring your brother with your bat form!", the first time your daughter had found out she could shift scared you shitless, toddler lyra suddenly poofing into a bat mid hiccup causing you and astarion to jump out of your skin, not knowing how to get lyra to turn back until she hiccups again poofing back and landing in a panicked astarion's arms while giggling at her parents panicked faces. Since then astarion had taught her how to use it properly, however she had a terrible habit of scaring her little brother with it, startling the tot causing him to wail and run to the nearest parent crying "a bwat!, a mama! a papa! noo!" earning lyra a scolding, you and astarion made her promise to not use her abilities in the cottage and not infront of her brother, not until he was a little older anyway.

(hey! im back with some dadstarion stuff! how are we all liking this? i could go on forever about dadstarion scenarios, what would you like to see?)

[notjustjavierpena]

4AM (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A little peek into Hubby’s mind. I’m working on a longer piece but here’s a taste for the starving.

Summary: Javier reflects on fatherhood while comforting his son.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, Javier loves his family, Javi POV, life with a tiny baby!!

Word count: 1.5k

4AM

It’s like clockwork when Lucas’ cries start echoing through the hallway in the early hours. Four in the morning and no sooner or later. You could set an alarm to wake you up at this point but each time there’s the slightest hope that it’s going to be at five the next time. 

You wake first. A moment later, you hear Javier wake up beside you with a sharp intake of air. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger, “Whose turn is it?”

“It’s four a.m. He’s probably hungry,” you say with a groan and try desperately not to let your eyes close for too long, “Jesus, I’m tired.”

Lucas sounds desperate with how he sobs, hiccupping unhappily at not feeling either of you close yet. You feel bad for not having left your bed already, reaching for the covers to throw them to the side. Javier looks like he is just about to turn onto his other side but he sits up instead, “Let me. You just go back to sleep, baby. I’ll heat a bottle or bring him here if he’s hungry.”

He swings his legs out over the side of the bed, his movements slow with the kind of sleepiness that only comes from not waking up by oneself but rather being woken up by something or someone. 

“Javi,” you try to protest. 

“I mean it. Go back to sleep,” he stands up with a small noise, shuffling out of the room and down the hallway to avoid more protests from you. He works so much and you stay here with his infant son all day; it’s the least he can do. Plus, he wants to get all the quality time with his baby boy that he can, even when he’s miserable from sleep deprivation.

He stops and takes a deep breath right before pushing the door to Lucas’ nursery fully open. There’s a soft glow from the night light by the bed, a lamp shaped like a half-moon that shines a golden yellow over the crib to soothe. 

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” he says when he leans over the side of the crib to look down at his wailing son. Lucas’ hair is dark and tousled much like his own, his eyes are big and brown but right now, his face is also tear-streaked and red from exhaustion to the point where it tugs at Javier’s heartstrings. He shushes gently as he scoops his infant into his hands with practiced ease, holding underneath his arms and supporting his head with his fingers. He bounces gently when he has Lucas cradled against his bare chest. In his head, Javier goes through his usual checklist to make the crying stop but he finds that his son is neither hungry, gassy, or in need of a diaper change. He tuts softly and paces the room to make him settle. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asks when the wails subside and turn into soft whimpering instead. The tiny hands on his chest curl up and as the sobbing stops, Lucas seems to find comfort in the familiar scent and warmth of his father. Javier kisses the top of his head, speaking gently while still bouncing carefully, “Don’t worry, I get those too sometimes but your mamá is right there with me when I do just like I am here with you. You’re always safe with us.”

Javier is floored each time he manages to soothe his baby boy. It’s a reminder that he is doing a great job despite all the doubts he had during your pregnancy, the introspection, and the constant fear that your softness hadn’t changed him enough after Colombia to be a good father. 

It seems so long ago since he was living an adrenaline-fuelled and cruel life miles away from the quiet suburban life he now leads in Texas. Sometimes, he even feels like everything that happened in Colombia are experiences that belong to a whole different person. This is even if there are still nights when he wakes up in a cold sweat, his whole body aching, feeling claustrophobic, and his poor old heart racing with memories of the things he's seen and done.

The hope of everything that he has with you had always existed beneath the layer of women and booze but Lucas is the true reason for letting go of his past. He doesn’t think he has ever felt so much fulfillment in anything until he held the tiny little boy against his chest for the first time and a nurse told him that he was a natural. He sobbed when you had gone to sleep, leaving him alone with your shared creation and he just couldn’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t think he ever thought that his heart was capable of feeling so much unconditional love for anything. He still marvels at how his chest aches every time he looks into his son’s eyes.

Lucas has drifted off to sleep in his arms by now, breaths having slowed down and eyes having fluttered closed. Javier paces around the room for a few more minutes just to make sure, and then he walks back to the bassinet and gently lays the baby down on his back. 

However, as soon as Lucas loses the warmth of his father’s embrace, his eyes shoot open and the crying restarts. He writhes and hiccups and kicks the blanket off. 

Javier sighs softly but there’s a smile on his face as he does it. He picks him up once again and the routine starts over, “So that’s what you needed, huh? No llores. Estoy aquí. No voy a ningún lado (Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere)."

He is so tired as he promises this, eyelids burning from exhaustion when knows he doesn’t have to be up for another three hours and they could be spent on sleeping. It doesn’t reflect what he wants though because sleep is nothing compared to hearing those cries ebb out until they stop altogether. He feels triumphant each time. 

He walks to the corner of the room where an old and slightly weathered rocking chair stands. It used to be in his father’s home, more specifically on the back porch, but he received it as a gift after his pop found out he was going to be a grandfather. 

He slowly lowers himself into it. The gentle motion back and forth has Lucas falling asleep once again. Javier can feel his chest rise and fall in time with his son’s and it’s so soothing that he allows himself to relax. He closes his eyes, becomes aware of their synchronized heartbeats, and then passes out with the little bundle on top of him. 

In your bedroom, you wake up an hour later to pee only to find that Javier still hasn’t returned after getting up. You concentrate on listening for your baby’s cries but there is nothing to be heard. After going to the bathroom, your feet take you down the hall and into the nursery just in case Javier needs you to take over rocking your son for a while. 

You find them both fast asleep and it is a relief that there’s no distress after all. It makes you smile to see them like this, looking so alike despite the age difference between them. Tiptoeing across the floor to gently place a hand on Javier’s shoulder, you wake up your husband with the intention of not disturbing your son. He stirs at your touch and looks up at you with tired but content eyes. 

“Looks like you both fell asleep,” you whisper to him gently. Absent-mindedly, you stroke your hand up and down Lucas’ back. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Javier blinks sleepily, reaching up with one hand to rub his eye, “Seems like he didn’t need anything.” 

“Are you kidding me? That’s not true,” you cut him off with a shake of your head and a soft laugh, “He needed you.”

There’s a pause. Javier almost looks like he might drift off again. You carefully lift Lucas from his arms, “Let’s get you back to bed. Both of you.”

You lay Lucas back in his bassinet, rubbing his belly with the palm of your hand before tucking the blankets around him snugly. He stirs but only briefly and then settles back into a peaceful slumber, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of his covers.

Behind you, Javier has gotten up from his seat. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both stand there in the soft glow of the nursery. It goes on for a minute or so, none of you saying anything. 

Together, you quietly leave the room. In bed, Javier holds you protectively in his embrace during the last few hours he has with you. He leans to kiss your lips tenderly, “Te quiero tanto, baby (I love you so much, baby).”

“Y yo a ti (I love you too),” you reply and earn him squeezing you even tighter, “Para siempre (forever).”

Being a first-time parent is hard, you know this, but it’s not as hard when four a.m. I love yous are involved.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[ariisheresstuff]

Sleepless Nights

Pairings: Dad!Carmy x Mom!Reader

Summary: The few days with a two week old baby was stressful, you were going through postpartum depression and it’s killing you. Carmy wakes up to the sounds of whimpers and cries from Kennedy, only to find you crying while comforting her.

Genre: Comfort, slight angst

Warnings: Postpartum Depression, crying, baby crying, stressed reader

MasterList

A/N: My requests are open, have a good day! <3

It was only 1:20 AM and Carmen groaned to the sound of your newborn daughter crying, Carmen turned to your side of the bed only to find you standing next to Kennedy’s crib gently bouncing the small infant. Carmen rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stood up and walked over to you. He yawned as he rubbed a hand on your lower back, he paused his movements only to feel your body shaking. He gently turned your shoulder only to frown. You were crying.

“Hey, baby, what’s the matter?” Carmy softly whispered to you, he tried cupping your face but you only shook your head looking down at Kennedy to hide your tears.

“I-it’s nothing Carm, g-go back to bed.” You said through hiccups, you softly shushed Kennedy’s cries but only for them to get louder. You were two seconds away from screaming.

“Here, gimme Kennedy baby. Go sit for me.” Carmen quickly took Kennedy out of your arms as he comforted the small child with soft hums and kisses. You sat on the bed hiding your face as you let the tears silently fall. Carmen walked around with the baby to get her fall back asleep.

“There ya go Kenzie, giving mommy such a hard time hm? I know it’s so hard living in a new world, but you gotta be nice to mommy. She’s done so much for you hm?” He said quietly as the small girl started to hiccup dozing back into sleep. Carmen smiled softly before pecking her head before walking over to her crib and placing her slowly down before rocking the crib slowly. After a few minutes he sighed before looking at you, he felt his heart shatter. He walked over to you as he ran his hands down your back in a comforting matter, that only made you sob more.

“Shh, baby. I know, it’s okay. Here, C’mere. Let’s go to the living room okay?” You looked up at him with a cloudy vision and a trembling lib before nodding. Carmen helped you up before taking your hand as he lead you to the quiet living room. He sat you down next to him as he wrapped his arms around you. You both stood there for a few minutes in silence only your sniffled and small whimpers being heard.

“You’re not alone in this, y’know that babe?” He said softly making you wrap your arms around his torso and hugging him tightly. Carmen didn’t hesitate to hug you back. He felt your body shake again.

“I-I’m sorry. I-It’s just too m-much for me, I-i don’t know what t-to do anymore.” You said through sobs, Carmen frowned he cupped your face out of his chest to make you look at him. He wiped away your tears with his thumb before giving you a stern look.

“Look at me Y/N.”

You hesitated before softly opening your red eyes with your eyebrows furrowed. Your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from crying. Carmen pulled your face closer to his as he laid a loving kiss on your lips, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment forgetting about everything. Carmy pulled away as he rested his forehead on yours for a moment before pulling away to look at you.

“Don’t ever say sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re going through a lot baby. A first born isn’t easy, I’ve seen Sugar and Richie deal with it. It’s okay to feel like this Y/N. Don’t think you’re alone on this, I’m here with you, that’s what husbands are for. I love you with all my heart baby, and it kills me to see you go through this stage. But I’m here for you and Kennedy. Please, don’t feel afraid about opening up to me about this.”

More tears fell only for Carmen to quickly wipe them away and bring you head to rest on his shoulder as he hugged you like you would disappear. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you let your emotions fall out.

“Let it out baby, it’s okay.” He whispered as he rubbed your back while kissing your head.

“I-I love you Carmy.” You said into his neck making Carmen smile, you pulled away to face him before giving him another kiss making you both sigh lovingly. You both stayed in each others arms for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence in each others embrace.

“You ready to go back to bed baby?” Carmen said softly into your shoulder, you sniffled before softly nodding. Carmy grunted as he got off the couch and reaching down with his hand gesturing for you to grab it. You grabbed his large hand as he lead you to the bedroom where Kennedy was sleeping. You two quietly entered the room and walked over to her crib on the side of the bed. You both looked down at the sleeping girl, you smiled as you ran a finger on her chubby cheek. You sighed as Carmen kissed the side of your head, you yawned quietly.

“Get some sleep baby, I’ll watch over her.” Carmen whispered making you frown at him.

“But, you have to get up in a few hours for work Bear. It’s fine I’ll stay-

“No babe, you need more sleep than I do. I’m fine baby, really, just please relax. You deserve it. I promise I got it, okay?” He cupped your face as he pecked your forehead clearly telling you to sleep. You sighed before nodding and leaning up to peck his nose. You grabbed his hand on your cheek and placing a kiss on his open palm.

“Thank you Carmy. I love you.” You said with a smile making Carmy smile back.

“And I love you more Y/N, always.” He brought you closer for one more kiss for the night before letting you go to bed.

He sighed as he felt a wave of proudness wash over him, he felt proud of taking care of you. His wife, who needed the comfort. Knowing he’ll always be there for his wife~

Tag-List: @otomefan @chunnies @slasherstories123 @avengersfan25 @th3h0nkz

[halfghostwriter]

“Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.”

No one knows exactly why it happened. One day, there are clear instructions on how to prepare child sacrifices to the ghost king, the next said instructions are covered in green splatters, with bold black letters across them reading “Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.” The phrase was written across every single set of instructions to summon the ghost king ever written down.

Of course, there were skeptics. People who believed some rogue individual was trying to invoke the Ghost King’s wrath by not preparing a sacrifice in exchange for the summoning. It wasn’t long before the first attempt at summoning this new king.

The cultists had prepared a fine sacrifice. The previous king was known to prefer very young sacrifices, as the potential years of life stripped away equated to the amount of power the king would absorb at the child’s death. It was for this reason that they had prepared a child of a mere 6 months old, coating it in the finest jewels and fabrics, and choosing a dull yet beautiful knife to slice through the child at the king’s arrival. The old king was said to enjoy watching the life drain slowly.

As the ritual began, the leader took his place by the child, raising the knife high above his head, preparing to strike down the moment the new king’s eyes were on him. Chanting filled the room, and the sigils on the floor burned with a toxic green glow. The infant began to cry, small hiccups echoing over the sound of ice cracking that began to fill the room. A being whose figure seemed to be made of the cosmos itself began to rise from the circle, eyes closed as it towered over the room. Small tendrils seemed to drift away from it, but kept flinching back, as if actively being restrained. As the beings glowing green eyes began to open, the cult leader leaned forward, preparing to shove the knife into the child.

But he couldn’t move.

He tried to push the knife downward, but it felt as if all of his joints were suddenly fused together. He couldn’t move his body. He couldn’t even move his head. All he could move were his eyes, which locked on to the glowing green pits staring right back at him.

“How… Dare… You….”

The words shook the room, causing the infant to wail. The being, the king, flinched back, and his body began to warp into something… smaller. Younger. A child, barely entering puberty. He floated towards the sacrifice, softly shushing the child as he approached. Delicately, as if it were made of glass, he lifted the sacrifice and held it close, stroking its head as he continued making calm, soothing sounds. He did so until the wails dimmed down to mere hiccups. Once that happened, he turned his eyes to the leader.

“How. Dare. You.”

He kept his voice at a mere whisper. His tone could almost be considered pleasant, had his face not conveyed such burning hatred.

“Did you seriously not listen to my instructions? I wasn’t subtle, writing that on every single ghost king summoning in the world isn’t something just anyone can do. Are you stupid or something?”

The leader wanted to say something. Beg for mercy, plead for forgiveness, anything. But his jaw wouldn’t move. No part of his body would move. He felt cold. He glanced around the room, hoping some other cult member would see his dilemma, would speak up for him. But instead of panicked members on their knees begging for forgiveness, he only saw figures encased in ice.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

The leader’s eyes locked back on to the king’s enraged glare.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I am taking this child somewhere where they won’t be hurt. You,” the king poked a clawed finger into the left side of the leader’s chest, “are going to help spread the word. Make sure everyone knows not to offer sacrifices to me. You have a lot of influence, I’m sure you can get it done. Oh, but in case you don’t…”

Veins of warm ice began creeping up the leader’s chest, beginning from where the king was poking, down his arm, and up his face.

“There. If anyone, and I mean anyone, offers up a sacrifice as young as yours, at any point in time, those ice veins with expand and freeze you to death. After that, whoever offered up that sacrifice will take your place spreading the word. And don’t worry about your cult members, they’ll defrost within a day to help you out.”

The young king turned away, and floated back to the sigils, small infant in hand.

“You’re pretty lucky, you know. If I weren’t having such a good day, I wouldn’t have just left you off with a warning.”

And with that, the king and the infant leave through the summoning circle in the floor.

Within days, it’s known that the new king despises anyone who dares give him a sacrifice.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Savior

Mizu x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: prostitution, attempted SA (not too detailed just implied), Mizu being sexy, he/him pronouns for Mizu

-----------------------------------

You had never met someone with eyes like yours. You wore glasses every day, the world appearing dark and dim because of them. You worked for Madame Kaji; being left on a brothel's doorstep as an infant. She saved you from the cold and raised you. She couldn’t stand to watch you be a prostitute, you were practically her own. So she made you useful in other ways. Fetching things for her, cooking, cleaning, always making sure the girls had whatever they needed. You also managed to learn quite a bit of judo. A necessity as you got older, mens wandering eyes and rough hands attempting to take you more often than you would like to admit. Today was no different, you had gathered all the groceries you had been sent to get. You prepared soup for you and Madame Kaji before she had to go and tend to the clients. You only really got to see her in brief moments like these. 

“Good evening mama.” you smiled sweetly at her as you set her bowl in front of her before giving her cheek a delicate kiss. 

She smiled at you before she started eating, “I want you to be careful today.” she said.

“I’m always careful.” you shrugged.

“No, I mean it.” she said as she forcefully set her spoon down. “We have dangerous company.”

You nodded, not wanting to further vex her. You both ate in silence, content with the atmosphere. You both stood, you going to clean.  Madame Kaji’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could make your swift exit. She pulled you back to her before she tucked your hair behind your ears. She slipped your glasses off, you squinted as you adjusted to the light. 

“Rain child,” she said as she kissed your cheek, “how beautiful you are.” 

You smiled and leaned into her touch. Nobody but her and the other prostitutes knew of your eyes. Everyone in the village assumed you were blind, not caring much in general about some whore mongers bastard child. Even Boss Hamata didn’t want you. You preferred it that way; better to be simple and plain than to attract every twisted glance that held nothing but malcontent. She left the small room. As you cleaned you couldn’t help but wonder what company she spoke of. To be fair, most of the usuals were harmless. But there will always be those who enjoy the pain of others. 

You made your way down the hall; watching Ise shrug her Kimono back on as she walked out of one of the many rooms. She gave you a small smile before walking into the parlor to fetch her next client. You shuffled into the room, starting to clean it before one of the girls needed it. Straightening the table, refilling the sake, wiping the sweat and regret off the floor mats. You knew none of the girls liked this work. But you looked at all of them like sisters, you felt their pain and sorrow. You often snuck them sweets Madame Kaji bought for you two to share. Life could always be a little sweeter, even in a small regard. You were almost finished cleaning when you heard what sounded like someone stumbling into the room. You turned and saw a man. Not a regular, tall and stocky. He swayed slightly, alcohol reeking from him. You bowed as you stepped back, putting space between you.

“You’re a… pretty one.” he hiccuped out as he shut the door behind him.

Your heart started racing, nothing good happens behind closed doors here. He stomped over to you harshly dragging you to the ground. He tried to pin you but you kicked him in the shoulder, sending him back. You scrambled up, almost reaching the door when he pulled you by the edge of your kimono. You fell to the ground, stomach against the floor. He held you down with one hand while the other pulled up your skirts. You sobbed and let out one shriek before he shoved your face into the floor, breaking your glasses in half. Your muffled sobs were all that remained. You heard the door fly open and saw a flash of red splatter the walls, a few drops dotting your face. You froze, shock finally settling in as you realize what almost happened to you. Foreign hands rolled you over deftly, you heard their distant voice and saw them through your tunnel vision. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, blue eyes meeting yours. 

He leaned over top of you, arms on either side of your head. You both gawked at each other until you heard running down the hallway. Madame Kaji and a few other prostitutes rushed in. The scowl on your mothers face horrified you. She shoved the blue eyed stranger off you before raising her hand to strike him.

“How dare you touch them!” she shouted. 

You caught her wrist right before she could make impact, “No mama! It wasn’t him.” you rushed out. 

You looked towards the corpse in the opposite corner which was cut in half. You felt the mystery man's hands gently close your kimono which you hadn’t realized fell open. You blushed at his kindness, his respect. Madame Kaji helped you up, a slight shake in your legs from the fear of it all. She walked you to your room but not before you saw which room the blue eyed man entered. As you waited you couldn’t help but think of his eyes, his gentle yet rough hands. Your mind wandered, wanting to know how his lips felt. You shook your head as you made your way to his room, slipping inside silently. 

The samurai’s eyes immediately found yours, yet he remained silent.

“May I sit?” you asked softly.

He nodded. 

“I wanted to thank you…” you said, “I also wanted… to see…” your thoughts tapered out, embarrassed of what you truly wanted to ask. “Your eyes.”

He held a look you couldn’t place an emotion to, “Sit.” is all he said.

You sat closer than he expected, faces inches apart. You knew this position was unbecoming but you didn’t seem to care. You had only ever seen one other person with different eyes, Yuko the prostitute with green eyes and golden hair. But these were blue, just like yours. You admired them looking at the beautiful samurai overall after a while and not just his eyes. 

Your hand came up to gently cradle his face. You moved on instinct, giving him a chaste kiss before leaning back, “Thank you…”

“Mizu.” he answered after a moment, lips buzzing from the brief yet sweet kiss. 

“Thank you Mizu.” you said before bowing and swiftly exiting the room. 

Your heart raced, and little did you know, so did Mizu’s.

-----------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello! My first Blue Eyed Samurai post! YAYYYYYY! It's been a long time coming given my obsession with the show but better late than never! Thank you for all the likes and comments, super motivating! XOXOXOXOXOXOX

[obsolescent]

I definitely imagine ghost like this when he comes back from a few months away and he’s just absolutely pissed that reader hasn’t being taking care of herself to take good care of the little ones😭https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJsu6BM3/

Woven Together

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x AFAB!GN!Reader

Author’s notes: Ough I am a sucker for domestic Simon. Honestly, after all he’s been through I feel like he would be a wonderful father and would want to be one, too. To set an example and show that he can and will be different from what his father was. Oops I’m getting carried away, I just love letting characters heal lol. Thank you for your request! Also…Gender neutral names for a parent are kinda hard to find, lol.

Content Warnings: Marriage, mentions of pregnancy, reader has given birth, reader has been neglecting themselves a bit, just in a forgetful way. Reader is called Mapa, a mixture of mama and papa.

CRASH

The sound echoes throughout the house. Your feet are moving before your brain realizes. You clutch the sling that your infant is nestled into close to your chest, trying to keep them asleep while rushing to your other child. You begin to hear them starting to cry and quicken your pace.

You round the corner into the living room, spotting your child. Your oldest, your son, is in the stage known as the “Terrible Twos,” which is an understatement. He’s so curious, getting into any and everything and it’s hard to keep up with him now that you’ve had your other child, your daughter. She’s just turned four months old, still quite small and sleeping throughout most of the day with feedings every couple hours. You have her in a sling secured around your chest while you made lunch for your son, before the sudden loud noise occurred. 

You see now what’s caused the loud racket and his sobbing. The lamp that was on the end table is now broken on the floor, likely due to him running and bumping into it. “Uh oh!” You exclaim, coming towards him with outstretched hands. He runs into your embrace, while hiccupping an “Uh oh” back to you. It’s something you’ve been able to teach him to say when something like this occurs, whenever he makes a mistake or gets hurt, you’ve realized it helps him calm down and to let him know that accidents happen and he isn’t in trouble.

While cooing in his ear and rubbing his back, you hear keys slide into the lock at the front door. Your head snaps to the sound and you watch your husband, Simon, walk inside. He had been able to be at home for the birth of your daughter through paternity leave, but had to leave again after those six weeks ended. He had been gone for a month now and you were so glad to have him home again. Your son also looks toward the sound, now excited at seeing his father home. “Dada!” He yells, rushing towards him. 

He sets his duffle bag aside and crouches down with his arms wide. “Hello, my boy!” He says, scooping him up and hugging him. You beam at the display, before making your way to them both. “Hello to you, too, my loves, " He says, bending down and giving you a quick kiss to the lips, before crouching further to plant one on his daughter’s head. He holds your cheek in his hand, studying your face. He must notice the bags under your eyes, unruliness of your hair, the rumpled clothing. You wince. “Darling…” He trails off, narrowing his eyes at you. 

 “It’s been a rough month without you, honey,” You answer honestly. No use in hiding it, you reckoned, for it was bare to his eyes. “Sit.” Simon instructs you, putting an arm around you, directing you towards the couch. You take a seat, while he sets your son down. “Hold Esther while I put the sling on,” He says, waiting for you to hand it to him. You look up at him, confused. “You need rest, love. Let me watch the children while you relax.” “But you just got back from a mission–” He stops you by cupping your face in his hands. “No arguing. Now, the sling, please.” You grumbled under your breath while slipping your daughter out from the cloth.

After unwrapping yourself from the sling, you hand it to Simon, who begins to place it around himself. Once finished, he scoops up Esther and places her against his chest, safely securing her inside its hold. She begins to fuss, but soon settles after Simon begins rubbing her back and cooing to her. You can’t help but smile at the display, your heart full of love and warmth for your little family. 

Simon grabs your son’s hand. “Timothy, we’re going to let Mapa take a break, alright? Let’s go have ourselves a snack, yeah?” Your son eagerly nods his head, tugging him towards the kitchen. Simon looks back at you with a smile, “Enjoy your break, darling.” “Thank you, Simon. I love you.” “Love you more.” You stand up from the couch and head towards yours and Simon’s room. Slipping into your pajamas, you crawl into bed, sleep gently taking you. 

Waking with a start after feeling the bed shift, you feel arms wrap around you. “Simon?” You asked groggily, looking over your shoulder. “It’s me, love. How was your nap?” “It was wonderful, thank you, honey.” You sit up and wipe the sleep from your eyes, blinking a few times as your eyes adjust to the dark, slivers of moonlight poking through the curtains. “How long did I sleep for?” You asked, remembering it was around one o’clock in the afternoon when Simon arrived home. “It’s nine now,” He replies, running his fingers through your hair. Nine?! 

“Oh my Lord, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep that long, I must’ve been worn slap out.” You feel guilt gnawing at you for leaving Simon alone with the children for so long, before he says, “It’s fine, didn’t want to disturb your rest, you needed it.” He kisses the back of your hand. “The children are asleep, just me and you now.” Oh. You return to his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. 

“What would I do without you, Simon? Thank you for today,” You say, now running your hands through his short blond locks. He hums with a grin, “Bare minimum I could do, was glad to have the time with the little ones anyways.” He was never one to accept praise. “Now, I want to spend my time with my spouse. Are you hungry?” The mention of food causes your stomach to growl, loudly. You both laugh, before Simon pulls you from bed. “Let’s order some takeout and watch a movie, yeah?” You grin and nod, excited at the prospect of an at-home date with your husband. 

After ordering food, you settle down to wait for the delivery, nestled against each other on the couch. You lay down while Simon’s situated against you, his head on your chest while holding you close. You don’t take for granted the time you have with Simon. Always glad to be in his company. It’s times like these you cherish the most, able to make the most of the time allotted to you two. “I love you,” You whisper to him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He turns his head up to stare into your eyes, his honeyed gaze filled with adoration. “Love you most.”

[thegnomelord]

PLEASEEEEE UR IDEA WITH MAGE M!READER AND MONSTER!COD MEN I'D LOVE THAT SO FICKING MUCH AND YES I AGREE THERE IS A LACK OF ALL THE VIOLENCE

Pov of how the world sees the reader Vs how TF141 reader :D. I'm in the middle of writing the first chapter of a fic with this idea, but guess who contracted TB like some coal miner 😞, me! So here's a sneak peak for the sort of vibe I'm going for while I'm trying to recover:

P.S: Ya'll are free to suggest/requests with this idea cause!

P.S.S: Check out bluegiragi who came up with this AU and give her some love!

Mages and Monsters

Mages are strange creatures.

In a world so full of monstrous hybrids and mythical creatures, mages sit on the proverbial line separating man from monster, stuck in both worlds without any hope of fitting in either one.

Because outwardly, they're average. No different from the billions of other humans. They're not born with the marks of monsterdom; they don't possess horns or leathery scales to shrug off small caliber bullets like dragons do, nor the claws and bone crushing jaws of werewolves, not feathered wings and razor sharp talons of harpies, nor the wraiths ghostly ability to become immaterial.

Outwardly, they're average. Ordinary. Mundane. Human...

Almost.

Because Price and Ghost are experienced enough to see the thing laying beneath the paper thin veneer of normality, are seasoned enough to quickly notice the one thing that puts an 'in' before a mage's 'human' description — Magic. Not the smoke and mirror kind magicians or charlatans use to swindle tourists out of money, but real magic.

The ancient kind, the capricious kind, slumbering like a beast inside the hollowed out cavern of a heart until it awakens with a terrible bloodlust. Each of them can attest to this; Price sports gnarled patched of scar tissue on the scaleless parts of his arm from ice burns, his draconic breath having saved him from frostbite that had devoured more than a few good men. Though Ghost doesn't show much skin, one can sometimes catch sight of branching fern patterns on his neck where lightning magic had shot through him. Gaz's back is peppered with hundreds of little cuts where a glass mage's summoned elegant ornaments had shattered into millions of shards, aiming to take out his wings.

And now Soap sports a mark of his own, his side tender red and blistered with a second degree burn. It could have been much worse, your flames were hot enough to melt steel, the only thing having kept him from an early cremation being the two solid concrete walls your magic had had to travel through to hit him and the enhanced regeneration of his thick hide.

But such power demands a cost — one paid in blood. For magic is as fickle and capricious as a rabid dog, just as eager to lunge for your throat as it will at the enemies, leaving lasting wounds for all to see; rough and calloused palms, skin blackened from blazing heat and freezing cold or marked with fern patterns of electricity, fingers stiff and marred with cuts from thorns and crystals and rock and glass, bone deep cuts where the liquid mana had burst out from the skin, leaving faintly glowing scars that never heal right.

All mages are born with this grievous gift, though one never knows whether it will present itself with a pitiful flicker of embers in a man's dying breath, or with a maelstrom of an infant's first hiccup. That's why most mages are sealed, by choice or force, a process which puts chains on the magic, making it and the mage docile.

But you are unsealed. And you flaunt that fact readily by melting the tail of their APC helicopter with one spell, not even waiting for them to crash before flooding the terrain with suffocating ash, the lenses of their gas masks already fogging up from the heat as they get out of the cloud of heavy sediment before it bursts to flames.

Sometimes the magic becomes unsatisfied with the weakness of the body, demanding more than just its pound of flesh and molding the body like clay to better suit it— Mage Marks, they're called — the subtle glow of magic in your eyes, the mana visibly pulsing inside your chest, the skin of your arms slipping away like wet paper before growing anew, this time mimicking the surface of magma, or the rocky barnacle encrusted reef, the gnarled bark of a tree, the crystalline inside of a geode, the ice spiked ground of tundra, or any other form that suits the magic in your veins.

The process is excruciating, the mana burrowing and gnawing on every nerve like a parasite that replaces what it eats with itself. But to you, that's an acceptable loss, because marked mages far surpass their unmarked fellows, your magic stronger and wilder, feral and viscous like the primordial force of nature.

So it becomes concerning when you're laying on the floor, captured, battered and bruised and calm.

Ghost had been waterboarding you for a while now, your body tied to a chair that had been tipped back so you were parallel with the ground. With water pooling around your head, your top half would have been soaked to the bone had your magic not been simmering in your veins, the magic suppression momentarily reducing the raging inferno in your chest to a meager flicker of flames.

They can't kill you, but limiting your magic for even a second is death in and of itself.

Your breathing is harsh as Ghost pulls away the cloth over your mouth, asking you a question as steam rises from your skin. Most would give in long before this point, but you just grin, eyes glowing with a burning glow, and make a comment about how good his arse looks from your viewpoint.

You manage only one small note of laughter, pitiful embers sparking at the corners of your lip, before Ghost drops the rag back over your face and begins anew.

Price watches all of this, sharp draconic eyes noting how the mana glows in your chest, pulsing like a second heart (assuming you had one to begin with), noticing how the water turns to steam a little faster when it splashes over your skin.

And Price knows.

You... You are going to be trouble.

[justallmyfantasies]

his daughter

you, alex and his daughter

contains: dad!alex, fluff and yeaahh

word count: 898 (wish i wrote more but i was stuck so just have this)

the sound of a baby crying creeped through the whole house. waking you from your slumber, you looked around the bedroom, it was dark and cold. you saw alex fast asleep next to you, his hair messy and his snores soft.

you got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, the creaks of the floor echoed through the house. the sound of the child crying only got louder as you approached the door to her nursery. you hesitantly opened the door, peering into the room.

the crib was rocking slightly, and the crying continued. you stepped closer to the rocking crib, holding your breath. as you looked into the crib, there was your baby, her eyes closed and her face red from crying. your child was alone, with no sign of any other presence in the room. your baby's wailing continued, growing louder and more urgent.

you reached down and picked up your baby, cradling her in your arms. she were surprisingly light, and her little body was warm to the touch. you tried to soothe her, swaying back and forth and making soft shushing sounds, but she continued to cry.

your baby wriggled in your arms, her small fists clenched tight and shaking. you checked the diaper, but it was clean. you tried rocking her gently, speaking in a soothing tone, but the baby's cries only grew louder.

panic started to creep in as the sound of you child's wailings echoed through the house. you glanced at the door, fearing that it would wake alex up. the thought of asking him for help flashed through your mind, but you decided to try calming the baby first.

you paced back and forth in the nursery, rocking the crying infant in your arms. your baby's face was red and tear-streaked, and each breath she took was punctuated by a loud wail. your heart ached as you tried to soothe her, but nothing seemed to work.

“sh.. come on sweetheart.”

your baby continued to cry, her little body shaking with sobs. you desperately tried to think of something to do, your mind racing with worry. you didn't want the baby to wake up alex, but you also didn't want her to continue crying in such distress.

you turned around and saw alex, leaning against the door. your heart skipped a beat as you saw alex standing there. he was half-asleep, his hair messy and his eyes heavy-lidded. he looked at you, then at your crying baby in your arms.

"i heard the crying," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "is she okay?"

you looked down at your baby, who continued to wail. "i don't know," you replied, a hint of desperation in your voice. "i've tried everything, but she won't stop crying."

alex walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. "let me try, love." he said, taking the baby from your arms.

he held her against his chest, gently rocking her back and forth. your baby's cries grew quiet, and her body became less tense. alex continued to rock her, making soft shushing sounds. after a few moments, the baby's wailing subsided, replaced by small, hiccuping sobs.

alex smiled, his eyes still half-closed with sleep. "see? she just needed her daddy," he joked, gently caressing the baby's cheek.

you breathed a sigh of relief. "thank you," you whispered, grateful for his help.

alex nodded, his attention focused on the baby. "it's alright, love." he said quietly. "she just needed some comfort."

your baby stopped crying altogether, and her eyes began to droop. she let out a small yawn and snuggled against alex's chest, her tiny hands clutching at his t-shirt.

alex carefully laid his daughter back in her crib, gently placing a blanket over her. he then turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"you should go back to bed," he murmured, his voice still groggy.

you nodded, fatigue washing over you. "yeah, i think i will," you replied, leaning against him.

alex led you back to the bedroom, his arm firmly around your shoulders. you both climbed back into bed, the warmth and comfort of each other's presence soothing your troubled minds. you snuggled up against alex, feeling grateful for his help in calming your baby.

“i’m starting to think she loves you more than me.” you teased.

alex chuckled, pulling you closer. "don't say that," he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. "she loves both of us equally, i’m sure."

"i don't know about that," you joked, leaning your head against his chest. "she seems pretty fond of you."

“maybe she just needs daddy cuddles more than mommy cuddles," he teased, running his hand softly up and down your back.

you laughed quietly, enjoying the gentle touch of his hand on your skin. "yeah, maybe you're right," you admitted. "you do give good cuddles."

"i know," he said with a smirk. "and don't you forget it." he then placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "get some sleep," he whispered, "we both need it."

you nodded, feeling the tiredness seeping into your bones. "you're right," you agreed, snuggling in closer to him. "goodnight, baby."

alex held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you, placing one last kiss on your forehead. "goodnight, love." he murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.

a/n: this is so bad i hate it but i just love dad!alex sm