#because the little doctor-fearing child in me needs to be soothed

[eluxcastar]

Dottore giving child reader a check up

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: nobody scares you more than the Doctor, and that's why you're wholly betrayed by Father tricking you into getting a check up right under your nose, but perhaps your worries are exaggerated by rumours

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, he's a lil soft (cause if he's not poor kid might explode on site), reader is mute, reader is also autistic (but tbh you don't have to read it that way), not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.9k

idk what possessed me to write this I just has the thought and decided it had to be done. I got in the zone and wrote it in a few hours 😭 this is kinda loosely based off one of my characters but ambiguous enough I think to be read as a reader insert. little ball of anxiety with legs reader hehe. they come from the house of the hearth so every instance of father refers to arle

You can't think of a single person able to scare you nearly as much as the Doctor can, whether it's the daunting trip to find him wherever he hid this time or the fear of knowing he tried to bargain with Father to have the more unimpressive children—as some would call you—shipped off to him to become experiments.

Father won't allow him to get his hands on any of you, but it hardly eases the fear that he may disregard Father's warning and decide to pluck the first child he comes across up and feign ignorance when she realises they've disappeared.

Father personally entrusted you with this letter, so you cannot turn back as you make your way to where she said he should be. 

The sleepiness might manage to numb you to the danger by the time you arrive and make it easier to stomach his presence, but most likely, he will only frighten you awake, and it will worsen with the shock to your system.

There's no turning back now and no declining when Father asks you to take letters, which she says are of great importance. You can't treat letters like this lightly, even if you fear the recipient.

Knowing who is behind it makes the door all the more daunting. Doors that separate you from Harbingers always make you nervous as it's not every day you find yourself faced with one armed only with a letter and shaking hands. If it were anyone else, you could've knocked in a heartbeat, but you pause to gather your bearings before raising your hand to knock.

One two, three…four. Spaced just as Columbina taught you to, and then you wait.

Several seconds pass in silence before you hear footsteps from inside, then a voice calling out to you. "The door is unlocked."

You reach for the handle, cautiously cracking open the door just enough to peek inside. Your eyes travel across the room from your left to your right until you spy Dottore seated in a chair facing away from you. He hears you, evident in the way he turns to look at you as you work up the courage to step inside and leave the door ajar behind you.

"It's you," he remarks, the closest to acknowledgment you expect to receive. You are about to make your way to hand him the letter when he interrupts you. "Close the door."

The door is always closed here like it's trying to keep someone out, but there's no one here that he would dread seeing who would knock and accept that the door is locked. He must not be trying to convince anyone of that, and if he was, maybe he'd lock the door for real and leave everyone stranded outside instead of talking.

Dottore makes you nervous. You don't know what he thinks or why, but you probably don't like it. It's the only reason why he would be here right now. Normal doctoring wouldn't get him far as a Harbinger, and the sounds you've heard coming from his lab are enough to deter you from wondering too much. 

Instead, you quietly spin yourself around to push the door closed before returning to your endeavour of handing him this letter from Father she entrusted you with.

"Who is it from?" he asks, a question you remember him asking before too. You concluded that he's trying to gauge how eager he is to read it, and your answer will set his mood for the remainder of your stay.

You turn the envelope over to show him the seal on the back, which you hold out to him. The mark of the House of the Hearth—Father's seal—is displayed so that Dottore can glean the answer from wordless actions. He accepts it from your hand with a stifled eagerness, the hopes of something he'll enjoy written there held back by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it's a trivial matter.

The moment the letter leaves your hands, you retreat to the safety of the door, where you stand beside the frame to await a half-hearted reaction or collect his response. Father is always happy when you return to the House to inform her that Dottore sighed when he read her letter, even if she regards the news with her usual stoicism. She despises when he bothers to send something back to her, but she never tells you why, as usual.

He collects something off his desk just out of your sight, hidden behind him, and the sound of paper tearing follows. He drops the twice-folded paper into his hand, then unfurls it to read the contents.

You wait in silence, nerves evening out as you rub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand. Sleepiness does help you occupy yourself if nothing else.

Then, you are interrupted by a snap of his fingers and a motion of his hand to usher you closer. 

Keeping him waiting will only make him mad, though you're sure not enough time has passed for him to pen any cohesive message in the minute or two you spent waiting.

You look up in anticipation nonetheless, expecting him to hand you something or tell you something so when he reaches toward you, it doesn't alarm you. 

Not until he grabs you beneath your arms, picks you up, and sits you down on the table, much closer to eye level with him.

"Arlecchino has her concerns about your sleeping habits and your seeming lack of will to speak," he begins, reaching behind you to grab something you barely follow before he has it in his hands. It's only a light, small and thinner than the torches at the House.

Your mind races with every question you can think of as you try to find a way off this table back to the floor, but the only way out is blocked by Dottore sitting in front of you, unsympathetic to the fear in your eyes when you stare at him. You could swear you hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears in a quickened rhythm.

What was written in that letter? Was it about you? It takes only a brief glance down in search of the open letter to realise exactly what makes this delivery so important. Father tricked you into coming here to see the Doctor after you so eagerly declined her previous offer to go willingly. You catch glimpses of your name in Father's handwriting and little else as it blurs into a messy sea of details, but you always recognise how Father writes your name.

You know better than to assume this is punishment but rather the manifestation of Father's worry as you keep oversleeping lately and need one of the older children to fetch you from the comfort of your bed. The idea that habit would land you here, presumably getting a check-up, might've inspired you to prize yourself out of bed a little earlier had you known.

Dottore seems to gauge your trembling as an obvious sign of fear, though a twitch at the corner of his lips is your only indicator, as you can't see his eyes beneath the mask. "Her explicit concern was whether or not you're ill." He rests his hand against your knee— they're cold, yet you almost expect it. It doesn't mean you especially like it. You can only interpret the action as a skewed attempt to comfort you. "As long as you're healthy, I see no reason to keep you longer than a simple check up."

He's not a real doctor, is all you can think, and he doesn't know what he's doing.

You have no choice but to steel yourself for whatever pain you're about to be subjected to. It might hurt, but you have no way out, no way back to Father, so you can curl up in a ball at her feet and ask why she would subject you to this torture—

"Don't tense your jaw," you suddenly hear, realising his finger taps your knee to grab your attention back from dreamland. "Open your mouth," he instructs you, and rather simply at that. It's something you can follow without getting scared he'll hurt you somehow.

He shines that light at you, inspecting something, though you can't say what. A slight tilt of his hand and, by proxy, the light he's holding is your only sign he's looking at anything.

The light is off before you know it. There was no pain at all, not even a hint of discomfort beyond what naturally arises from your ever-present anxiousness.

Dottore moves to set the light beside you, then appears to change his mind as he offers it to you. You take it from his hand and click it just as he had, the light coming on again. Another click, and it's off. Holding it just like that, an object of clicks and ridges and a light you can play with, is enough to give you something to at least take your mind off the fear of getting hurt.

"Lift your head." 

This time, compliance comes easier as you tilt your head up until the point his hand stops nudging you, and instead, he presses his fingers against your throat. It's light enough to feel only slight pressure; it doesn't hurt, but you don't like that feeling. Your thumb brushes over the exterior of the light, smooth against the pads of your fingers and satisfying to touch. You pull away before you can come to your senses and stop yourself, but he lets go the moment your discomfort flares, and you do the closest you can to telling him no.

Your breathing begins to even back out seeing his hands so clearly in the air in front of you, away from you, not touching you. It's silent reassurance that what you just did counts enough as revoking his permission to touch you as anything can.

Dottore doesn't feel like dealing with the fussy child that trying to force it would invoke for a mere favour to the Knave.

Instead, simply asking you like the fully grown child you are seems much more efficient. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, all yes or no," he begins. "They're all simple enough you can answer without speaking."

You interpret the ensuing silence as Dottore waiting, expecting you to nod or shake your head, and you quickly offer a nod in agreement.

"Do you know if you're able to speak?"

You consider his question carefully, unsure of the answer. Your hesitation prompts him to rephrase the question.

"Are you able to make any noises at all?"

You nod. You know the answer to that.

"But not speak in full words?"

Not words. Words don't work. You shake your head.

"Would that be because you're physically unable to?"

You shake your head. You've spoken before, but each time you try, especially here, something robs you of your voice before you get the chance. You know you can talk, just not here like this. 

"If not physical, then there's nothing wrong with you," he concludes. It feels sudden like there should be more, but he stops so quickly. "Nothing that I can fix," he promptly adds. That explains it.

Why not? He doesn't answer, unable to hear the things you don't say. To him, you remain as starkly silent as ever and as difficult to treat as you have been the past few minutes. You suspect he came to some greater conclusion between when you first walked in and now but neglects to share with you what it is.

You must look unsatisfied or just confused as he pauses to stare at you. You look away first, eyes drifting back to the light in your hands.

"Arlecchino only wanted to know if something was physically wrong with you," he says, briefly looking down at the letter as he skims a particular section again. "Your poor sleep may be the result of insomnia, or whatever is causing the mental block that also prevents you from speaking."

Mental block? Nobody ever told you about anything like that. 

You eye him curiously, though you again remain silent, watching him while you think he isn't looking back. It's easy to look at him as long as you don't consciously think of the fact that he's staring at you behind that mask.

Dottore holds his hand out expectantly, a motion of his fingers telling you he wants you to return what you have in your hands to him. You do so, but not without a sadness-driven hesitance to accompany it.

"None of the things you're describing imply a physical problem, but a paranoid 'parent' overattentive to the wrong facets of what could be wrong with an orphan." You don't like the way he says that as if he's speaking ill of Father, but like always, you keep your mouth shut. "If you couldn't speak because of a physical injury, you would have presented with one when you arrived at the House of the Hearth—not now. Trouble sleeping and an elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, intense panic and your tremors are more likely the symptoms of anxiety." 

That's a lot of words, but as he quickly lists every example, you seem to become conscious of it. Mental block, anxiety. Those are the two things you've been told that sound like explanations. You look down as if on instinct, hands held in front of you to investigate his claims that you're shaking. You are. Before your eyes, your hands are trembling, though you can't say why. You look back at him to see if he has anything else to say.

You thought your sleep troubles weren't the same, the result of bad dreams, but supposedly not. Dottore doesn't know anything about that, does he? No, he can't. You never told him, so he can't know. He knows lots of things he shouldn't, like your heart racing when you're scared or how you feel like you can't breathe at times. 

Dottore clicks the light on again, shining it down at your hands resting in your lap. He circles it in place, and your eyes follow. It clicks off again after a few seconds. "Distraction helps anxiety," he says, then sets it down on the desk beside you. "Do you know why you can't sleep?" he asks.

Yes. You nod. Dreams. On nights when they're at their worst, they keep you awake long past bedtime when all others have gone to sleep. By breakfast, you can be so tired and sleep-deprived that dozing off over your food is the only thing you can manage.

You half expect to sit through another round of questioning before Dottore finds the one that clicks the pieces perfectly together in his head, just as he did in the first round.

Instead, Dottore stands, and his hands find your sides to hook you under your arms. Your feet are back on the ground before you can fuss any more about how much you do or do not like it. With you out of his way, he flips the paper Father wrote her request to him on.

"If you know the answer, then you're free to go."

That's it?

You stare up at him for a moment, perplexed by the surprising lack of pain compared to the abundance of fear you felt. It should have hurt, but it didn't, and now you don't know why you were so against coming here in the first place. Dottore spared five or ten minutes of his time, which he already didn't want to give you, and is sending you on your way without injury,

You can't see his face as he's turned away, writing something down that you can't make out. If you took a guess what it is, it's probably about you, just like the first one was. Still, you can tell why Father is so annoyed to receive letters from him. You don't recognise your name when he writes it. You don't recognise anything he writes. His handwriting is awful.

He folds it and slips it back into the envelope it was given to him in. That's not proper etiquette, but something in the way he practically shoves it into your hands tells you that he doesn't particularly care. So long as it gets from him to Father, it doesn't matter how it gets there in his eyes.

"Give that to the Knave." That is his final instruction. You're very used to following those kinds of instructions by now, having heard and executed them many times. They're second nature to your mind.

You nod, pinching it between your fingers to keep the paper from falling out of the open envelope. If Father's was critical, so is this one, and you'll get it back to her quickly—more importantly, safely.

You can't help wondering why it felt so much easier to have someone briefly look at you and ask a few questions. The older children make it sound torturous and barbaric, like being used as a lab rat to spite Father for her refusal with his only opportunity to access the children of the House.

Perhaps seeing a doctor to ease Father's worries isn't as scary as you believed.

#✦ — scenarios. #✦ — fluff. #for anyone wondering #yes this is extremely self-indulgent #because the little doctor-fearing child in me needs to be soothed #by a scarier doctor LMAO #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[ateriblewriter]

Flowers in the Garden (j.h)

a/n: something i mention in the blurb snack time got me thinking. im sorry.

warnings: pregnancy, loss of a child (its mostly talked about i do not go into the story of what exactly happened)

most days when he got home he would find you working in your little garden in the backyard. it was a place of solace. the work of planting, caring for and reaping the fruits of your labor, a prideful feeling for you.

today he found you just sitting there, staring at the three little yellow flowers that had been planted there. correction, there were two plants in the ground and one that look like it had been pulled out lying on the ground.

"it was an accident. i didn't mean to do it." you stared ahead when jack sat next to you in the dirt.

"i know. things happen. we can replant it or get a new if that's what you want." he pulled you closer to him, nestling your face into his chest.

"i'm sorry."

"it's okay."

he could feel warm tears starting stain the sweater he was wear, while his own threatened to fall. it seemed a common occurrence this time of year.

jack knew the significance of these three particular flowers in the garden. it pained him as much as did it you when a new one was planted. he hated seeing you hurt like that.

"i don't know if i can do this again." you pull away to look at your husband placing a hand on your protruding belly.

"hey. everything will be fine this time. the doctor said he is healthy and strong. and and the heartbeat" jack fumbled to open his phone were he had a recording saved, he needed to hear it from time to time to reassure himself it was real.

"that's what they said last time, and they were wrong. they were wrong jack!" you start shaking, taking bigger breaths of air as the anxiety of the aforementioned started taking over. "i don't want another flower in the garden. i i can't."

"breath baby. breath." he wrapped his arms tighter around you as best he could with the baby bump.

jack had been getting ready for a playoff game against the rangers in new york that day in early may when he received the panicked call from you telling him something was wrong with the baby. he could hear how scared you were when you said you couldn't feel her moving anymore.

he tried to get back to you as fast as he could. fear consuming him worrying about his wife and unborn child. by the time he got to the hospital there was nothing that could be done to save the baby.

another flower was purchased to placed next to the others.

and now that flower had been accidentally pulled out of the ground.

once the attack had subsided, jack brought you back inside the house. he drew circles over you skin, trying to soothe and lull you to sleep. he stayed with you until sleep got the better of you.

"i love you y/n hughes more than you can ever know. it will be different this time. "

jack kissed his wife's cheek and the bump around the area his head should be before momentarily leaving. he had a quick job to do.

he replanted the flower. doing it himself acted like a promise to the others that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure the outcome was different this time. because he too couldn't buy another flower for the garden.

shall i continue?

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

[assless-chapstick]

BABY JOHN HEADCANONS

not like baby baby but like he's MY baby yk? my babygirl as a baby before he was babygirl when he was a little baby boy

• When the gang gets John - cuz let's be real, they get him the way one gets a puppy or a case of smallpox - he's fresh off that attempted hanging. It was more of a lynching than anything, an impromptu eye-for-an-eye killing after John shot a feller with his own god damned gun. What made a twelve year old mad enough, scared enough to kill, and how'd he manage to grab the guys gun? Kid won't say

• kid won't say much of anything, really. The gang had a disgraced doctor running with them at the time, a guy so hooked on his own cures and tinctures you wouldn't trust him to diagnose a hole in the head, and he said the noose had crushed John's larynx. Sure, the boy can still talk, but it ain't ever gonna sound the same and for the first lil while it'll be hard as hell, but he should be able to. So why don't he?

Doc says maybe the lynching, lack of oxygen to the brain made him go daft cuz just look at him, ain't a thought behind those eyes.

But Dutch, he has faith, he knows.

I think just the fear and trauma after the incident sent John to a pretty rough place and he went nonverbal for a space of six or nine months. Not right after, maybe, but in the following days and weeks - enough they got a name out of him, an age (he said 12 but he's got the stature of an eight year old, not nearly enough meat on his bones), a little bit of a story. "Where's your daddy, boy?" Dead. "And yer mama?" Dead.

• John was always told his ma was a lady of the night, knocked up on accident and dead in childbirth. He came out with the cord around his neck and his ma bled out before they could even untangle him.

There'd been a picture, though he'd never had the courage to ask his father about it, drunk and angry as he was. A young woman with round features and hooded eyes, long dark hair parted in the center and braided, his father's hand resting gently on her shoulder, both posed like a portrait.

(john is métis/mixed indigenous and you can pry that headcanon from my cold dead fuckin hands)

• in the winter john is so small and skinny he gets too cold at night and Arthur begrudgingly is like "FINE you can share with me" and so they share a bed until John is like 16 fjjfbfbf way too old to be sharing but imho John is a bit of a late bloomer and sort of, not a mamas boy but just kind of a baby yk?? Arthur is like "dontcha think it's time you got your own tent or something?" and John's like "No." and just walks away and Arthur is like "AT LEAST YER OWN COT??"

• john is reptilian in his search for heat he just wants to be warm ever since they got him he's crawled into Arthur's jacket whatever chance he gets

• during that first year especially, John was clingy and strange.... after a particularly terrible bathing experience (Susan is great but she's fastidious about personal hygiene and if water goes above John's navel he starts to freak) Arthur is just posted up by the fire with John sat between his knees, tucked into his jacket as they sit in silence mutually brooding... and John reaches up to rub the stubble on Arthur's jawline as a way of like, stimming n self soothing and Arthur would stop him cuz it's weird but he feels those boney little shoulders loosen and John says something, and he never says Anything so Arthur knows it's a big deal... so he just let's John keep doing it after that

• Susan is highly against taking in a child when they first bring John around - maybe because she thinks the main childcare duties will fall to her, or because she doesn't trust the gang to be a safe place for a kid - and this manifests as a little bit of short-temperedness towards him. it's not unusual, she's kind of a Bitch on the best days, but she's cold towards him at first... and I don't think anything Happens, per sé, no big event, just over time she sees he's a damaged boy in need of mothering and that's a part of herself she tried to kill a long time ago... but he brings it out of her. She nags him to cut his hair but brushes it out for him anyway; she'll share an apple with John if no one's looking, peeling it and quartering it and sneaking him a piece. She'll complain about the food - "God this stew is terrible what's in it? Rat meat? Here John, you finish it" - because sometimes good food is scarce and he's a growing boy and she sees his hungry frame, remembers how he used to steal and hoard food in the early days. They almost always have enough but she wants him to have more than enough. She reads to him, and then when he's learned to she gets him to read to her. A damp cloth on the forehead when he's laid low with fever, maybe a soft lullaby if she thinks no one's around...

• at age 12 John has a smoking habit. I don't know if this is unusual for the era or not and I dont know what the gang thinks of it but the kid loves his tobacco

• in fact John rolls his own cigarettes and, when he's young, that's primarily how he earns his keep - those tiny little kid's hands did a great job and he ends up getting the chore foisted on to him from everyone fndbbdf ( prerolled cigarettes had been invented only 7 years prior)

• at agw john also unfortunately loves to drink. I don't know if this was unusual for the era but I'm sure Hosea and Susan and even Dutch had something to say about it

and I think that's all I got in my head for now fellers.... thanks for reading mister....

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #john marston #OMFG I just saw my old tag #john marstons adult braces #uGH thats such a good HC too #love himmmmb #rdr2 headcanons #he's just a lil squinkum he's just a lil guy!!!! #and Arthur and him have a super close relationship even if they argue often #its not til after john leaves that they majorly fall out and lose the close relationship they have #arthur being cock blocked because his little brother insists on sharing a bed until hes fuckin 20 years old #they just go into the woods to jerk off its fine

[vibratingskull]

I was so excited to see requests are open!! I'm kinda obsessed with your fics where Thrawn has a child on Peridea (or children in that one fic), and I love them because yes Thrawn deserves to be a dad, but also because you include Enoch, my beloved. I was wondering if you could please expand on how Enoch interacts with Thrawn's child and/or Thrawn? Like did Enoch see the newborn and go 'it's a free niece' or was he roped into it when the kid asked him to pretend to be a patient while she pretended to be a doctor?

Thrawn do deserves to be a daddy ! He deserves a large family to hug and love him ❤️❤️❤️

Part 1 - Part 2

Thrawn x F!reader

Tag : Fluff, domestic bliss, death of a character

Let’s be honest, Enoch was not too keen on the idea at first.

First you’re a jedi and then you’re pregnant… Are you trying to take Thrawn’s focus away from his true mission or something? What’s your deal?

And then Thrawn gave him Thiroy to hold. It’s not even something supposed to be meaningful, his comlink just started ringing so he gave Enoch his 3 months old daughter to hold for a second and his world just… crumbles.

Thiroy is so, so tiny, so fragile, she cannot survive without help and he is so, so much bigger, so much stronger and powerful. It reminds him why he enlisted in the navy in the first place : to die so others weaker can live. And here he is, holding a little baby in his full armor, legs and arms feeling like jelly suddenly, fearing he could drop her if he isn’t careful.

Clearly a stressful situation.

Thrawn would have him beheaded for that, no doubt about him, no matter his years of loyalty and competency under his lead. So he is extra careful, holding her little head firmly, his large hand supporting her small body.

He is completely speechless, out of words.

She looks at his helmet, absolutely entranced by the features drawn by the metal, he’s not her mother or father, who is he?

And then she explodes laughing, trying to grab the helmet with her tiny hands and he feels something melts in his heart. He is a soldier, a trooper! A trained killing machine, born to obey his Grand Admiral and lead troops in battle.

But she is sooooo…

Tiny

And fragile.

“She likes you.” Thrawn suddenly says, snapping him out of his hypnotized trance.

He realizes he was completely focused on the little baby, not uttering a word, not even realizing Thrawn finished talking to his comlink and was observing him holding his precious daughter.

“Really? A pity.” Enoch shakes his head with a harsh tone.

“Why?” Thrawn tilts his head.

“I am no good with kids, they give me headaches.”

“They take a lot of work. Like troops.” Thrawn concedes.

“Troops are organized and obedient, children are unruly and headstrong. They are nothing alike!”

“Both need training and a strong figure to rely on and guide them.”

 “The comparison stops here. Soldiers can be reasoned with, children are utter chaos entity and I cannot deal with them.”

“Then why did you not give me back my baby yet?” Thrawn asks, with a little grin at the corner of his mouth.

Enoch realizes that he held on to the baby like a buoy in an open sea without giving her back to his father.

“I am sorry, Grand Admiral.” And he gives her back to Thrawn, escaping her little grabby hands.

And Thiroy immediately starts crying, being denied a toy.

“See? She appreciates you.” 

Enoch purses his lips under his helmet.

A baby sees him as her personal toy, what good is that?

But deep down, he feels a pinch of pride that the baby demands him.

He silently observes Thrawn calming down his baby with soothing words and cradling her.

It is…

Adorable?

Enoch only knew Thrawn through the leadership lens. He came under his commands as a simple trooper years ago and obediently followed his orders, slowly climbing the in hierarchy under the Chiss watch, leading his troops to battle, sharing his victories and defeats.

And in all those long years, this is the first time he catches a glimpse of the real man Thrawn is, a man of desires and wants, a man of tenderness and peaceful strength. A father. A loving being.

Just like him.

It remembers that one woman he used to date and left behind. What would he have done if she had announced a pregnancy to him? Would he have retired, keep his mission? Would he be a father too today?

Thrawn doesn’t have those questions.

He has the best of both worlds, a family and a noble goal.

And for the first time in decades Enoch feels terribly alone…

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

At first he watched the baby grow from far away, looking at the little family growing, full of love and determination. But one day, Thrawn asked for him to come into his office.

You’re here too.

Enoch tenses up immediately, he still didn’t accept you. He respects you as a warrior and as the wife of his esteemed Grand Admiral, but it stops here. 

You’re holding little Thiroy in your arms, he doesn’t really knows where she should be in her development but she should have started walking now, right?

He focuses back on Thrawn, giving him orders for a mission on the dry land of Peridea, but he sees you having difficulties keeping the baby in your arms, she seems to agitates yourself in your arms quite a lot so you lower yourself and put her down.

And to his surprise and horror, she starts waking towards him!

What is he supposed to do?! He’s not trained for this? What is the correct behavior when your Grand Admiral’s baby is walking towards you with clear determination?

He takes a step back by reflex but she follows with her clumsy little legs, tongue sticking out as she focuses on her target trying to escape her. She finally manages to catch his leg and he remains unmoving, a bit terrified.

What now?

What Thrawn will say?

She tries to climb him now!

What’s the correct etiquette in this situation?

He raises his head when he hears you giggling. Are you mocking him?

“What is happening, Enoch?” You ask with a broad smile, “You sprint towards the enemy's armies but collapse in front of a baby?”

Thrawn observes the scene silently, but with a gentle smile on his face.

“Why don’t you try to take her in your arms?” You ask.

“I… I would never! She is too tiny, I would hurt her!” He tries to escape the situation.

Thrawn then slowly rise from his seat and walks towards them both.

Thank the maker, he is going to take her back!

But instead, he lifts her and puts her in his arms. She’s way more heavy than last time! She grew too.

And Enoch feels his heart clenches and melts once again.

This time she can grab his helmet and she holds both of his cheeks in her tiny hands with a giggle.

He feels the air getting knocked out of his lungs.

“We discussed with (Y/n).” Thrawn speaks softly, caressing his daughter cheek “We need to find someone in case something happens to the both of us. Would you accept to become her godfather?”

Enochs feels struck down by lightning. Her what?!

He’s not cut down for that job! He’s a soldier! Not a nanny!

He…

His words dies down at the sight of both of you. Thrawn is looking at him seriously, like he is planning a campaign and you look at him with tenderness in the gaze.

“She already adores you.” You had, coming closer to put a hand on Thran shoulder, “You are an honorable man Enoch, you would raise her well.”

“I am not sure I can do that…”

“Why not?” you insist.

But he has no argument.

How could he when his Grand Admiral and his wife both looks at him with such clear eyes full of trust and determination.

“I… I accept.” He lets out, almost against his own will.

You smile broadly and Thrawn nods, visibly satisfied.

“We knew we could count on you, Enoch.” Thrawn takes his shoulder and squeezes it firmly.

Enoch gazes lowers back on the little girl face.

She looks like the both of you. A perfect 50/50 of you both.

“Eeeeee… nock” She tries to say.

And his heart is suddenly filled with warmth.

This is the good decision…

He can feel it.

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

“What are you two doing?” You ask, entering the room.

Enoch jumps out of his skin and stands up immediately.

“Nothing, my lady! I was just…”

“Enoch…” You look at him with a smile hidden behind a hand “Where you playing tea parties with Thiroy?”

“No! I was simply…” He starts, but he sees your gaze.

There is no getting out of it.

“Please do not spread the word that I do that.” He asks.

You clear your throat, trying to contain your amused smile and put your hand on your heart and raise the second.

“You have my word, I will not reveal you like playing tea parties with my daughter?

“Thank you.”

He sighs, by necessity he became one of Thiroy nanny… 

And he does like to play tea with her.

But he would kill himself if his troops ever heard ot it.

“Thank you for looking after her.” You continue, taking her in your arms.

“My pleasure, my lady.”

This is not a real doll’s tea of course, just stealed tea cups and dessert plates that they displayed on the ground with her plushies.

“He married my unicorn!” Thiroy exclaims full of joy.

“Oh my! My congratulations to the young couple.” You give him a lopsided grin.

He’s going to die of shame.

It was their little secret! And now you know too. Great!

You lift the plates and tidy the room with your jedi sorcery that always made him uneasy. But today it doesn’t feel like it.

“Time for your nap, young lady!” You annonce.

“Noooooooo!” She cries, “I want to keep playing with uncle Enoch!”

“If you take your nap, I’ll come back to play tomorrow.” He negotiates.

The little Chiss girl looks at him with eyes full of tears.

“You promise?”

“Deal!” 

And they lock their pinky.

“Hop your pop! To bed you go!” You decide.

He awaits outside the room for you to finish tucking her to bed.

“Thank you again.” you murmur to not wake her up.

“You’re welcome. Could you give her this when she wakes up?” He hands you two little wooden figurines.

“Did you sculpt them yourself?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yes.” He admits, “For her starday.”

“They’re beautiful. She will love them, thank you.” You take them with a gentle smile.

He stands to attention and returns to his post, overseeing the Chimaera.

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

Enoch is fully focused on his datapad but he still notices you walking towards him, holding your back with both hands, your pregnant belly in front of you.

“Good day, milady.” He salutes politely.

“Oh it will be good, Captain.” You say with a smile in your voice.

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow under his helmet. Did you ever see his face once, he suddenly wonders.

“Why?” He asks, curious.

“My waters just broke.” You release the bomb.

He completely blue screen for a second, freezed mid-movement.

You what?

“Are you alright?” He immediately asks worried, tossing his datapad aside carelessly.

You chuckle at his worries, amused by his distressed tone.

“I am very well, thank you.”

He boldly circle your shoulders with his arm and take you hand to give your support, Thrawn would kill him if you ever collapsed alone in the corridor of the Chimaera in such a critical time.

You are as joyful as ever, not stressed for a second while he is sweating bullets under his armor.

You, finally, reach the med bay and Enoch helps you lay down the med bed and starts ordering the droids around. Where are those stupid machines when you need them?!

He takes his comlink and calls his subordinates immediately while the droids plug their monitors and take you in charge.

“Call the Grand Admiral to the med bay.” he orders.

“But sir, he expressed the order to not be disturbed under any circumstance!” The bridge officer argues back.

Enoch sighs silently, back when Karyn Faro was here those comments would have never flown off, but now those officers have real problems submitting to a Captain trooper.

Despite Thrawn making him his right hand.

He gathers his calm and speaks, really calmly, really coldly.

“I don’t care if you have orders, find him and tell him his wife is giving birth! Now!”

He cuts the communication, turning back to you, peacefully laying on the bed with your feet in the stirrups, morphine getting transfused. 

You suddenly wince with a groan. He immediately approaches to take your hand, ready to jump into action.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“It’s okay, Enoch. Just a kick.” you smile blissfully.

He slowly relaxes, but can’t help some of the stress to pour in his veins.

He is so out of his element. He’s used to wounds and death, not birth. 

He never delivered a baby, this is the complete opposite of his job! 

“Mom!” Thiroy burst into the med bay, running towards you.

Enoch smoothly intercept her before she hits the bed and hurts herself.

“Sweetheart, did you find your father?” You gently ask.

“I am here, Cha’cah.” Thrawn appears behind her. “Is everything alright, my love?”

He immediately comes to your side, seizing your hand in his.

“I am well, do not worry.” You smile at him “You want to feel them?” 

You place his hand on your tummy to feel the kicks.His shoulders seem to relax instantly.

“They are so energetic.” He sighs.

“Yes. Soon you will meet them.” 

He looks at you with love and adoration in his eyes while your daughter just looks worried.

“You are shining, cha’cah.”

“It’s because I am happy. Our family is growing, love. I have a present for you.”

“You giving birth is enough of a present for me.” He purrs.

“You’ll see.” You wink.

He leans in to kiss your forehead and you wince, in pain again.

“Oof…”

“Enoch, take Thiroy outside.” Thrawn orders.

Enoch takes your daughter's hand and escorts her outside the med bay. Thiroy follows him reluctantly, looking back to you.

“Why couldn’t I stayed?” She asks worriedly.

“It is for the best, miss.” He simply says, “Your father is here to support your mother in this moment.”

“Is everything gonna be okay?” She wonders, full of worry and doubt, “I never saw mum like that.”

“Everything is going to be alright.” He kneels in front of her, “Your mother is a warrior, she will can do it easily.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

And they hold their pinkies.

But not everything went well.

Quite the opposite.

Thrawn didn’t need to say a thing, Enoch saw it immediately, something went horrifyingly wrong.

“Dad!” Thiroy jumped on her feet and run to him.

Enoch holds her back by reflex, like her touching her father would have made him implode. Thrawn slowly walk up to his daughter and kneels in front of her with a tired sigh.

“How’s mum?” She asks immediately “When can I see my little brother?”

“Thiroy.” Thrawn starts.

He sounds absolutely exhausted and his features are drawn. Enoch saw Thrawn staying awake for more than a week without sleeping more than one hour per night and remaining energetic and focused, this behavior is highly out of the ordinary for the Chiss. 

By instinct, Enoch squeezes Thiroy's shoulder.

“Your mother is…” Thrawn says before stopping, closing his mouth in a very thin line “She did not make it.”

He did not sugarcoat it, he told her straight, like an adult, looking right into her eyes. She remains silent, looking at her father with round eyes. His hand comes caressing her cheek tenderly.

“Do you understand?” He gently asks.

“Yes…” She very sternly says.

“Your two brothers are well and healthy. They are taken care of.” Thrawn continue.

She simply nods, but Enoch can feel her stiff body in his hand. The wonderful news of two brothers cannot outweigh the horror of your death, and Enoch supports the little body of Thiroy just in case she would lose consciousness.

You are dead.

You abandoned your husband and three children.

“I want you to go to your room. I have some affairs to settle and I will come back to you rapidly to speak with you.” Thrawn tells her.

“What is there to say?” She asks with a cold but unmistakably devastated tone.

“There is a lot to say, actually.” Thrawn argues back, “Especially for someone your age.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead with trembling lips “Follow Enoch to your room, I will come back to your side as quickly as I can.”

Enoch guides Thiroy in the corridors of the Chimaera in dead silence. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t shout, doesn’t throw a tantrum, she remains calm and still but her little hand trembles in his large own.

Enoch remains mute. 

What could he ever say to alleviate the pain of an 8 years old who just lost her mom?

“Do you want me to stay with you?” He finally asks in front of her door.

“No…” She barely responds, unsteady “I want… I want to be alone… A bit.” 

“Alright.” He squeezes her hand one last time before seeing her close her door on him.

He comes back to the bridge with a cramped mind. She didn’t say a thing but he clearly felt her pain and her hatred towards him.

He did promised her you would be alright…

And you died.

Enoch straightens his back and walks with assured steps. With your sudden death his workload suddenly got heavier and Thrawn will need as much help as possible.

And Enoch is not about to fail his Grand Admiral.

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

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #enoch #captain enoch #fanfic #vibratingskull

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Never Tell - a Malevolent fic

Arthur and Bella Lester are not in love. They came together as friends, to protect each other, to give one another the freedom to live—and love—as they pleased.

Having a child was supposed to be part of that—quieting the rumors, providing a shield. But it wasn’t one baby; it was two… and something is very wrong with their golden-eyed son.

A Malevolent AU.

Warnings for mentions of historical homophobia and medical practices. Also a deeply irreverent Bella.

AO3

--------

Arthur sat in the waiting room, numb, frozen; he could smell his breath, and the booze on it, but wasn’t in the mental space to care all that much. Bella was alive, but not by much; she’d bled badly, so badly, and that was before they had to do the C-section. And he hadn’t been here. He had not been here.

“Mr. Lester?” said the doctor. “Please come with me.”

Arthur just looked at the doctor, feeling dead-eyed, then followed him deeper into the hospital.

Here and there, babies cried. Laughter rose, or excited babble. People happy with their situation, with their mess, with their family. Arthur felt sick. 

He was a fraud. He shouldn’t be here. This was wrong. He shouldn’t even be playing this role—

There she was.

“She should pull through,” said the doctor, “but it was touch and go for a while. She needs you, Mister Lester.”

Was that chiding, perhaps even condemning a tone? It should be, Arthur thought. Sure, they wouldn’t have let him in the room while she was giving birth, but that wasn’t the point. He should’ve been at the hospital, and he wasn’t. So. “Sure,” he said, and headed toward his wife.

She looked like hell. Bled white, her dark curls more than a little matted, her lips more pale than pink. Then she turned into blur.

Arthur wiped his leaky eyes, pulled the chair up to the bed, and sat.

She must have heard the chair. Bella’s eyes were shockingly blue in her pale face, like a painting done in only two colors. “Hello.”

Arthur swallowed. “Hi.” 

They looked at each other, a wealth of secrets thick between them like glue. Bella sighed. Her voice was weak. “Both of them are okay.”

“That’s what they told me,” Arthur said.

“I was half-sure you wouldn’t show up,” she said, and there was no censure in her voice.

They both understood. He appreciated it, still. “I… I couldn’t just… leave you, not now, not while…”

“The good news,” Bella said like announcing a dinner menu, “is they sliced me up down there, not just my belly, so nobody will blame you for not making any more babies any time soon.”

Arthur choked. Put his hand over his mouth. And made a sound that was neither laughing nor crying. “Bella, what the fuck?”

Bella smiled. “Gotcha,” she said.

“You always do,” he said. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

“Hush. Kept us both safe.” Because it had. Quashed rumors. Calmed parental fears. Soothed ruffled societal feathers. “And now we’re done, and we don’t have to do it again.”

Arthur sighed. “You probably should be a bit more concerned for your own survival right now than whether or not I have to stick my prick in you again.”

“No,” said Bella. “Priorities.”

Arthur laughed weakly and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. Maybe we should’ve just faked it. Pretended a miscarriage.”

“This is better,” she said. “And it’s done, anyway. So.”

“Fuck.” He held her hand in both of his now. “I haven’t seen the babies yet.”

Her smile was amazing; a smile he'd seen when they were teenagers, in school, and thought they could get away with anything. “They’re beautiful.”

“They probably look like a couple of wrinkled potatoes,” he said.

“Potatoes are delicious,” she said.

He snorted. “What, we’re going to eat them?”

“Would it be any worse than anything else we’ve done?” she said, and then closed her eyes for a moment, worn out from joking.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, soft.

“I can smell why you weren’t.” Again, no censure. 

They’d been married for seven months, and was grateful for her forgiveness. She'd handled all of it so much better than he had. “I'm still sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. In your place, I honestly might’ve been across the border already. Screw all of this. Let’s go make bootleg liquor in Canada in the woods for the rest of our lives.”

He almost laughed. “Don’t tempt me. We’d make more money than my jingles.”

“I like your jingles.”

“They’re stupid jingles.”

“They’re money-making jingles, so they can be as stupid as they need.”

He was finally able to smile—weak, but there. “I hate this.”

“Me, too. But… if it had to be someone, Arthur… you’re still the best option I know.”

It was wrong. This marriage was wrong. They both knew it; but they were both trapped. They hadn’t known another way to save themselves. He still didn’t. “Well. Survive. Get better. And when you’re out of here, we can all go to Canada and make booze in the woods.”

“It’s a deal.” Her squeeze was weak. She closed her eyes. “Could you tell them I’m thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

“Go see the kids.”

Arthur hunched.

She knew he did, even though she wasn’t looking. “It’s all for nothing if we don’t keep up appearances.”

“If we’re lucky, they got your brains instead of mine,” said Arthur.

“If we’re lucky, they got the best of both of us,” she murmured. “That Twilight Sleep shit is something.”

Morphine and scopolamine, given as a matter of course to mothers in labor. “Must be, if you’re cursing in a public place.”

“Fuck ‘em. They can handle it.”

“It’s all for nothing if we don’t keep up appearances,” he said.

“Ah, ha,” she mumbled, and fell back asleep.

He held her hand a moment more. He liked her; he really did. She liked him, too. That was the only reason this worked, and they hadn’t killed each other or someone else or actually run to Canada.

Arthur sighed and rose. It was time to go see the little parasites that changed the course of his life and Bella’s—protecting them both, providing “proof” that neither of them were queer. 

It had been fun at first. Then it had been… sort of sick.

But they had to. Massachusetts wasn’t friendly to queers. This wasn’t Greenwich Village. A guy could go to jail for suspected sodomy, and he’d never get his life back even if he did get out; and just 1913, they’d gone publishing entire studies proclaiming women who loved women were perversions .

There were people pushing back, yeah; men who dressed pretty, women who wrote stories showing how good that love was. Musicians who were out, bold, brave.

Neither Arthur nor Bella felt inclined to do that. To take the heat. To be the faces people aimed for when they punched.

So they'd decided to help each other. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Fake it; make a baby, get married, quell all the rumors and whispers and pointed fingers. Then they could do what they wanted with their lives, and nobody had to know.

But then Bella’s dad had made it a big fucking deal (and Arthur suspected he knew , and did not approve). And Bella had not carried… well. She’d been sick most of the pregnancy; it had been a last-minute decision for her to go to the hospital instead of the usual home-birth.

He was glad they’d done that, now. He didn’t like this. Nobody liked this; this fake marriage, this forced situation. But he liked her. He didn’t want her to die.

Arthur dragged his feet on the way to the maternity ward, feeling a million years old instead of twenty-one. All around him, people talked, chattered, laughed; babies cried, and people seemed happy to hear that sound.

Arthur wiped his eyes. It had all seemed like such a smart idea. It felt like being trapped now. Trapped forever, the rest of their lives. Too late to pull out. In every sense of the word.

The hospital smelled awful. That was why he felt so nauseated, he decided. Sure.

They were waiting for him, smiling nurses, putting on a show (though he could see they were tired) for all the panicked, eager, hopeful, terrified dads who wandered in.

It felt like stepping up to a guillotine, walking through that door. Like this was what made it final, this was signing on the dotted line. This meant no going back. 

“They’re healthy and beautiful, Mister Lester,” said one nurse. “Congratulations!”

“Twins,” said the other, unnecessarily. “A boy and a girl.”

“Your wife didn’t name them,” said the first. “She said you already knew what names you wanted.”

That bitch. That glorious, funny bitch. He’d give his left foot to be as funny as she was. His lips quirked. “Sure,” he said, mentally scrambling. 

They reached into the bassinets and held the babies up. They didn’t look like anything. Squashed tomatoes. Eyes tightly closed, tiny mittens covering their hands.

“Your daughter,” said the one nurse.

And Arthur knew. “Faroe.” Because that was his grandmother’s name. 

“And him?” said the other nurse, holding up his son.

That was harder. He didn’t know anybody he’d want to name him after. Eh. A generic name would do. An ordinary, strong name so nobody would look at him sideways. “John,” said Arthur.

The names were written on the dotted line.  For better or for worse, it was done.

“Bella said she was thirsty,” he shared, and the nurse went to deal with that.  But before she did, she handed him his son.

Arthur had no idea how to hold a baby. He took the squashed tomato, nervous, trying to support the head, surprised at the solidity of such a little thing, of his warmth.

Then John opened his eyes, and they were solid gold. 

Not yellow, gold, gleaming like metal from lid to lid, like wedding bands still polished behind glass. Arthur froze.

The other nurse came up beside him, holding Faroe. “You’re in for it,” said the nurse with forced cheer. “Twins! That’s a whole other ballgame.”

Arthur gawked at her, then looked down again, but John's eyes were normal—blue, if abnormally steady on his face. “Oh,” said Arthur, because he didn’t know what else to say. What the hell had that been? Was he cracking up?

"Twins tend to be each other's best friend," said the nurse, standing close.

And maybe Arthur was cracking up, because these babies were very new, practically grubs with limbs, but he could swear they were trying to reach for one another with their tiny, mittened hands.

-----

NOTES:

I have plans for this fic. It's gonna be slow going, since I have several others I want to finish first, but I couldn't risk this seed getting lost. It's gonna be a fun ride.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent fanfiction #malevolent podcast #john doe malevolent #malevolent pod #arthur lester #malevolent AU #bella lester #faroe lester #john lester #never tell fic

[mageofseven]

Repressed Love: A DiaLuci Love Story

Chapter 17

Tag list: @astroseuss @zarakem @brielle043 @missloserqueen

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer called a doctor, just like he promised his son.

Diavolo led him out of the blonde's room to to let the doctor do his job without Lucifer hovering over him and criticizing every little thing.

How could he not though? That was his son. He watched his son going through this confusing and painful episode where his entire body blurred and Satan screamed in agony. The Avatar of Pride needed to make sure this doctor was doing everything for his son.

Still, he allowed his fiancé to lead him out of the room. Lucifer knew he was only thinking with his emotions at this stage so when his love suggested that they step out, he trusted the other man's judgement.

Audriana was downstairs with the twins. All of House of Lamentation was quiet, the loudest sound of all being Lucifer's footsteps as he paced back and forth outside Satan's room.

Diavolo felt powerless. Neither words nor his touches could sooth his Light's pain and fear. That didn't stop the prince from trying however. His fiancé needed him after all.

Eventually, the doctor came out and nothing could have prepared Lucifer for the words that were spoken.

Satan...well, beings like him and Audriana were very rare and demonic society didn't have a lot of information to go off of.

What Satan is going through though...it's been documented to have occurred in the past, but there is no name for his condition.

His body...his very existence...it was unraveling.

Demons born like he and Audriana were different than others down to their very souls. Most demons develop in their parent's womb, absorbing dark magick for their souls as their body grows.

Special demons like his children grow much more rapidly and don't have time to absorb their own dark magick; along with the emotions that caused the pregnancy, the child rips off pieces of their parent's soul to become their own.

This is nothing to worry about on Lucifer's end because as long as he still has some parts within in him, his soul will grow back, albeit slowly. Honestly, the man's soul had probably only just healed from Satan's birth when he became pregnant with Audriana.

Satan's condition has to do with how his body formed his soul with pieces of Lucifer's. The blonde's soul, just like Audriana's, is kept together by the emotions they inherited from their dad.

Imagine their souls are glass balls that have shattered. The emotions are the glue that sticks the pieces back together. However, the glue is poisonous and the glass ball still has sharp edges, which causes them both physical and emotional pain.

What's happening to Satan is...he's worked through most of the painful emotions his father passed on to him and has nothing new and strong enough to take it's place. The glue is evaporating, the glass ball is falling apart.

His soul, his very existence is unraveling.

Satan...is dying.

Not enough is known about his condition for the doctor to truly help. Their is no known cure; just a comfort that can give his son more time.

Demon's with this condition crave interaction and exposure to their birth parent. Most children aren't lucky enough to have the option though.

Children like Satan and Audriana are often abandoned directly after birth; no one wants to raise a child born from their trauma after all. Most die alone when they develop this condition.

This is why Satan was trying to form a relationship with him, why he visited the day after Audriana was born. The deathly pain his son has been hiding for three months was soothed by his presence.

Lucifer's legs gave out from under him and all that kept him standing was Diavolo. He cried. He cursed. He didn't care that the doctor was still there, that a stranger was seeing him like this.

The Avatar of Pride had no pride left in him.

What was originally supposed to be a quick pick up of their daughter turned into an all day affair at HoL.

It felt like all of the men's lives were falling apart; even the loudest of the brothers couldn't bring themselves to utter a word.

The atmosphere of the home had a strong affect on Audriana. The small girl didn't understand anything that was going on.

Why is everyone sad? Papa, why is Daddy crying? Where's Tay Tay? I need Tay Tay 🥺

Eventually, they had to wrap the very overwhelmed child in blanket, as tightly as was needed, and put the headphones over her ears. Diavolo was busy trying to comfort Lucifer so it was Beel who offered to rock her and hold her tight as small tears dripped down her face.

It was decided between the two parents that Satan would move into the castle with them so he could always be with Lucifer.

It won't solve the problem, but it will give both father and son a bit of peace and ease some of the pain Satan has been feeling.

Later, when Satan woke up...Lucifer had everyone leave the room, including Diavolo. Lucifer had to be the one to tell his son and he needed to do it alone.

After he broke the news, Lucifer lowered himself to his knees and laid his head against the mattress.

The day Satan was born... Lucifer was afraid. Confused. In pain.

But when he looked down into his new son's tearful eyes...he felt like a failure, like it was only natural that he would fail the small frail baby in his arms.

Satan was born not long after he and his brothers moved to the Devildom, not long after he lost Lilith; not long after he failed her. He promised he'd keep her safe. He promised both her and their brothers that he'd keep her safe.

Yet she still got shot. Yet she still almost died. Yet she still left them...all because he failed her.

From failing his sister to the pressures of keeping his brothers safe in a realm that actively protested for their removal, he felt like a failure that was doomed to have the trend spread

And it was true. Here he was, failing his son just as he predicted.

"D...Dad."

Lucifer's wet eyes went wide and he raised his head.

Satan's face was red from uttering the title. This was the only time in his life he had actually referred to Lucifer as such. At best, he'd use a mocking tone in the past when he'd call him his 'brother', but otherwise tried so hard to distance himself from the pride demon.

"You did everything you were capable of back then; I know this now." The blonde told him. "Just like I know you're doing everything for me now."

But no words could heal this guilty man's conscience. Still, he treasured hearing his son call him 'Dad'.

Eventually, Lucifer asked Satan if he would move into the castle with him so he could...help the younger demon with his pain management, so to speak.

To move out of the home he's lived in for hundreds of years, the only one he's ever had in his life...this did not sit well with the blonde

But he wanted all the time he could get with his father and sister. If moving in will give him more time and extend his life a bit then so be it.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me dialuci

[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re village #re8 #re8 village #resident evil ethan winters #re ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #rose winters #mia winters #chris redfield #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #video game #video games #video game fanfic #father #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #parent #angst #request #requests open #x reader #reader

[honeyhenry]

Tiny

it had been the scariest moment of your life, easily

the culmination of henry’s birthday had led to a very welcome pregnancy, with you being coddled and adored by your husband as you grew your sweet unborn child

your unborn baby boy - as you’d found out only a couple of months ago - had been growing really well, on track to be a healthy 7-8lbs (3.5kg)

the doctors had noted the babe’s size, but after the first time Henry walked through the door at the 12 week scan, they realised what they were dealing with

it actually all started to make sense

but the scariest part, was that your sweet boy, due for the end of February had began his mission into the world 6 weeks early, during the first week of the coldest January on record

luckily you had both Henry and Kal at home to rush to your aid while you’d thought you were experiencing braxton hicks contractions

but it wasn't that. it was the real deal

you’re already in active labour when you get to the hospital

you’d held your husband’s hand and wept, not only in pain but with the fear of being “too early, he’s too early Hen”

all he could do was wipe your tears and reassure you that everything was going to be okay. even if he couldnt be certain himself

Baby boy Cavill comes in at 4lbs 4oz (2kg) and is whisked away after you spend just a brief moment with him

he gets some checks, all under Henry’s watchful eye as you make him promise to stay with your son, whose tiny lungs help him to scream and cry out at the suddenly bright, cold world

you’re both alright, but they want to keep you and your son in for a couple of days to make sure he’s stable

Henry has had to call a few people, only the important ones, to let them know the news, doing so quickly so that he doesn’t have to be away from you or his baby boy for long

everyone had said that your baby would be chunky, given your husband’s size, but when you see them in the little hospital crib, they’re so little

it hurts your heart to see how small and fragile he is, but both you and Henry know that he is in the safest place he can be

he’s given a little red knitted hat to wear so that the nurses and doctors know he’s one of the little preemie babies on the ward, and thus needs some extra care and attention

you lean over him in his little box crib, gazing at him all the while, lifting him out to hold and feed when allowed

as soon as you’re given the green light, he is in your arms for hours, settling down and just existing peacefully and contently

Henry is just SO big, particularly when leaning his body over the crib, using the tip of his finger to hold his little man’s hand

he likes to have small conversations with him

“Already repping our rugby team with that hat, son”

Henry’s held him as much as he can already, sitting in the big chair by the bed you lay and rest in, having some skin to skin cuddles

you get a lot of visits from the nurses when he does that

you’ll doze off and wake up to Henry chatting away to the little boy on his chest, a fistful of chest hair in his grasp

“you are lucky you’re cute and brand new because this is quite sore for daddy”

his son is the size of his hand, and between his large palms he’s fragile and little and just the apple of his eye

all his nieces and nephews have been upwards of 7 pounds

so now Baby Boy feels even smaller in his massive arms.

His forearm is bigger than his baby - he can’t believe the little miracle that is his boy

his strong little man

all the clothes you'd brought in the hospital bag swamp him so you need to take a couple offered from the hospital and a pack from the hospital gift shop until you can get more preemie clothes

yes, even newborn size is too big and it makes your heart ache

Henry picks up some Winnie the Pooh items from the shop, and a little stuffed Pooh Bear for his baby boy

after three days you get the all clear to take him home. He’s fine, just tinier than you and Henry - and your families - had anticipated

you walk out happily, still a little in pain but choosing instead to revel in the delight that your sweet boy is okay

Henry has the hospital bag and the car seat with baby in tow

He is minute compared to the large clunky car seat. Somehow he looks ten times smaller and even more precious, holding his own little hands with a soft pout on his lips

he looks just like Henry when he sleeps

you watch Henry click the car seat in expertly, knowing he’s practiced in the garage many times already. He’d always wanted to make sure his sweet boy is safe

Henry drives home ten miles below the speed limit

“it feels like we’re stealing a child from the hospital” “well this one came out of me so i think it’s okay”

the car finally rolls into the drive and stops carefully outside the grand house, and you squeeze Henry’s hand

Baby is sleeping soundly, having not even moved through the duration of the car journey despite you feeling every stone and pothole the car drove over, worried for his safety

Henry carries him into the house in the carseat, resting it gently on the floor in the hallway of your home

for now, it’s just you three, as Kal will arrive later with a very excited family member who you’re grateful to for taking Kal while you’d left in such a rush a few days ago

Henry pulls you in close for a hug, resting his head on yours and wrapping his whole being around you

the past few days have been possibly the scariest in his entire life

but they’ve also been the happiest, up there with your wedding, and the time you took him to his favourite restaurant that was a 3 hour drive away, on his only cheat day that month

after a quiet moment in each others’ embrace, silently feeling each and every emotion together, flooding with relief as you rest on each other for support and love, your son is unpacked from the car seat

he’s like a soft tiny starfish and you coo at his sweet, sleepy face

you carry him because Henry feels like a “clumsy giant” holding his boy, especially when not in the comfort of a large chair where he can remain stable

you hold him and look at his little foot tag from the hospital

“and here we thought we had an extra few weeks for his name...he needs one soon though, he can’t be Baby Boy Cavill forever”

“can’t he?” you hear Henry’s deep voice from over your shoulder and you catch a glimpse at him looking ever so adoringly at your son, as you tear your eyes from the sweet newborn for only just a moment

it’s then that you confirm that your boys definitely have the same face 

Baby boy has his daddy’s eyes and chin and you are in love

“you know he will grow up one day. We can’t keep him this size forever. i wish we could though, he smells so good”

to which Henry chuckles and smells the baby’s head, in complete agreement

later on, baby boy lays on his father’s chest. Henry holds them delicately in place, as though they were made of glass

he can nod his head and smell that wonderful baby smell, and know that this little mass of human perfection is completely healthy, and all his

and should he hear a little squeak, as he adjusts his son to stay comfortable for another hour, his immediate reaction is a soft “oh son, it’s okay. Daddy’s here” 

with you curled up beside him, falling asleep with ease after such a strenuous labour and prolonged stay at the hospital, Henry realises he will always get to feel this lucky with his little family by his side

he just doesn't know what on earth he’s done to deserve it

and Kal will be such a wonderful big brother, he can already tell. Him and baby are going to be best friends

Baby takes milk like a champ, they’ll be happy and healthy and plump in no time, especially thanks to Henry’s pep talks during feeds or the baby massage sessions he insists on implementing with his large, gentle soothing hands

a few days later, it is decided that Baby boy Cavill is called Will - you’re adamant on Will not William - but he’s often called Junior by Henry, and always Baby Boy to his loving mama

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill writing #dad!henry cavill #cavillary

[letarasstuff]

Can I stay with you?

(A/N): This is based on this, this and this post. I really hope you are ready for the feels, because they are there and they are heavy-

Summary: Following the events of Emily's death, how will Spencer and his daughter cope with it?

Warnings: Angst and lots of it, mentions of drug use, contemplations of drug use, mentions of needles, we also got some bittersweet fluff

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _______________________________

A hospital is not a place where a child should be, Spencer knows that much. But he picked (Y/N) up on his way for two reasons:

The first one being the simple occurence that the babysitter is not able to keep her any longer, because she has classes in the next morning. The second one is selfish and the father knows that, but he needs her presence, the comfort she brings to him.

“Daddy”, the child breaks the silence in the waiting room, “Is Auntie Emily going to be ok?” She sits in his lap reading a book before looking up at him. Her eyes hold something he wishes to never see again: Fear. The fear of losing someone she loves dearly.

“I hope, Baby. But let’s not forget one important fact: Your Auntie Emily is one of the strongest women I know.” Spencer gives her a kiss on the top of her head and cuddles her closer to him, seeing (Y/N)’s eyes dropping. The rest of the team watches the interaction with aching hearts.

The girl is asleep for half an hour when JJ enters the room. Everybody gets up crowding her. Spencer is careful to not disturb his daughter as he moves her head to his shoulder and hooks his arm under her legs.

“She never made it off the table.” These words echo in the genius’ mind, seemingly being the only things he can think about. “I-I never had the chance to say goodbye.” JJ hugs him, trying to give some sort of comfort. In this process (Y/N) wakes up. As soon as she spots her father’s tears, she knows not to ask a question. Instead she loops her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna be alright, Daddy”, the toddler recalls the words he says to her whenever she is upset in hopes to cheer him up.

The next couple days are hard on the whole team. They try to grieve together, especially while the funeral takes place. (Y/N) notices that the color black is fitting, since her Auntie really liked to wear it. She likes that they do the same to pay their respects that way.

“Auntie Penny, is she watching?” The blonde woman carries her while the casket is walked down the aisle. Since her death, (Y/N) doesn’t dare to say Emily’s name. She thinks if she avoids it, she is going to inflict less pain when she is talked about.

“Of course. Emily is in heaven and watches this beautiful beautiful ceremony we hold for her. So wipe that frown off and put on that smile she loved so much. Alright?” Confusing to her, the adults want (Y/N) to smile all the time. But they are frowning and crying more often than not.

“Can she hear us? Because I want to say I love her. I forgot to say it the last time I saw her.” Trying to distract herself from seeing the casket lowering into the grave, the girl plays with Penlope’s hair. She in turn has to fight tears back. Only now she realizes the impact the whole thing has on her.

“I’m sure she does. What about when the majority is gone, we go to her grave and talk to Emily? Do we have a deal?” (Y/N) nods.

As soon as the ceremony is over, Spencer takes his daughter, cradling her close to him. As if she senses his sadness, the girl is petting his back in a comforting way. He squeezes her closer to him, leaving her not much room to breathe.

“Daddy, I wanna talk to her. I need to get down.” (Y/N) wiggles in his grasp after she whispers this into his ear. Reluctantly Spencer lets her down and she toddles over to the freshly made grave. A little plastic card sticks out of the grass in place of a headstone.

The adults try to give her as much space as possible, they have to let grieve on her own.

“Hey, Auntie Emily. I-I wanted to say I love you, and I forgot to tell you this the last time so I say it a second time. I love you. And I miss you. I think Daddy misses you too. He is sad since you are gone. I’m too. I think it’s because we miss you. But I hope you like Heaven. Maybe you see my Mommy. When you do, can you say I love her?

“I’ll try to see you soon, Auntie. Goodbye!” (Y/N) goes back to her father and makes grabby hands towards him. Gladly Spencer picks her up again, putting a kiss on her head. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” The child mumbles, exhausted by all the stress and emotions from the day.

The father is relieved to have an excuse to skip the meal with the team. He is scared that the evening at the little restaurant is clouded by sadness and angst. Spencer doesn’t need that right now, a nice sit in with his daughter sounds way better.

After saying their goodbyes the little family sits in the car on their way to the apartment. As soon as Spencer starts the car, (Y/N) is fast asleep. He looks at her through the rear view mirror, happy to see her at peace. It gives the father time to sort through his own thoughts. Since Emily’s death (Y/N) tries to be around him constantly, which he is thankful for, because she keeps the darkness away.

Her last hours play again and again before his eyes. The different ways he could have stopped all of this. Why didn’t he say more when she began biting her nails? When she said “Laura Reynolds is dead”? Maybe all of this is his fault?

His forearm begins to itch. Exactly where Tobias Hankel injected the needle same as he did several times. Maybe, maybe it would make everything better? Just this one tim-

“Daddy? When are we home?” The small voice cuts off his train of thought. Spencer needs a few seconds to clear his mind. Did he really think that? Taking dilaudid while the reason he fought his addiction literally sits right behind him? “Just a few minutes, Sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed after dinner?”

As if she knows that the father can’t be left alone in this state, (Y/N) answers: “No, I wanna watch a movie with you. Can we watch Alvin and the chipmunks? I love Simon so much!” This places a smile on his face, the excitement in her eyes scare his dark thoughts away. “Sure, Peanut. We can watch whatever you want.”

It's the fourth evening in a row that the girl sleeps in her father’s bed. She either falls asleep there or climbs next to him in the middle of the night, so he figures he lets her sleep there right away.

“Good night, Sweetheart”, he tells her as they lay down. Even though it’s quite early for Spencer to go to bed it’s (Y/N)’s time. “Good night, Daddy”, she tells him while snuggling closer, “I love you. Soooooo much.”

The young doctor decides to take the next few days off from work in order to work through the events. The first one he spends coloring in books with her the whole day. While she works on her own books gifted by various members of the BAU, Spencer has his own extra made for adults. He can’t deny the soothing effect it has on him. The repeating moves calms the storm of thoughts inside his head.

The next day the two of them sit the whole day on the small couch in the living room, (Y/N) on his lap, and read. Sometimes they read for themselves, others the father reads outloud from his own or (Y/N) from her own. It’s kind of therapeutic to hear his child doing something he enjoyed his whole life.

“Daddy, do you think she feels lonely in heaven? There is nobody she knows, she has to wait for us to follow her, doesn’t she?” Not prepared for such a deep question, Spencer is caught off guard.

He clears his throat before answering. “Uh, Auntie Emily isn’t that lonely up there, you know. You can’t remember him, but Uncle Gideon, a friend from work and someone I looked up to, is there. He surely greeted her with open arms, happy to see her. And your Mommy is also there, she certainly asked lots of questions about you.” “A-are you sure? I told her to say Mommy ‘I love you’ when she sees her.” (Y/N) looks up to her father with big eyes.

He is not sure if he is lying right now to her, but he sees that his daughter needs the reassurance. “Yes, I’m sure.” To lighten the mood he begins to tickle her, which ends in a tickle fight which in turn ends in tiring the girl out and falling asleep while watching a Disney movie.

The next day is by far the worst since it all happened. Both (Y/N) and Spencer haven’t slept much due to nightmares from both sides (him comforting her as she tears him from his own), which results in a grumpy toddler and a non stop coffee drinking adult.

“Sweetheart, you need to put that shirt on. Auntie JJ is expecting us in ten minutes. Please, stop fighting me”, he begs, but she continues to cry. As Spencer tries for a third time to put it on her (Y/N) throws herself to the other side of the bed.

“I don’t want that, Daddy!” She finally gets out through her sobs. Spencer halts in his movements. “Why? That’s your favorite, Baby.” While (Y/N) begins to cry louder, he leaves the clothing article on the bed and gathers her in his arm, rocking her back and forth additionally to whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

“She gave it to me. I don’t wanna make it dirty or ruin it”, the toddler says between shaky breaths. For what feels like the trillionth time, the young agent’s heart breaks over this statement. He has a bigger vocabulary than the average English speaking person, but at this moment Spencer is at a loss of words.

“Sweetheart, I apologize for not acknowledging this right away. I’ll get another shirt out for you, ok? Thank you so much for telling and helping me.” Just a few minutes later the little family is on their way to the next metro stop. It’s then that Spencer realizes his day won’t be any easier.

“(Y/N) you can sit in the seat next to me like you always do. Why do you have to sit in my lap today?” Normally he isn’t someone who denies his child physical contact, but the seating chart has a logical purpose. Being on a train with a child means you have some kind of luggage with you, which leads to occupying a four seats compartment. In order to prevent somebody taking the seat next to him, Spencer places his daughter there. It’s a win win situation for everybody, really.

Unfortunately for him (Y/N) is extra clingy today and won’t stop crawling onto his lap. With a sigh he accepts his defeat and tries not to think about the amount of germs that fly around.

Another problem that torments the father: Over the last few days his cravings grew. Especially today the feeling, the need, for another shot and another high is undeniable for him. As if sensing this (Y/N) sticks by his side throughout the whole time, keeping his mind off of the drug that changes him.

While they are at the Jareau’s and Lamontagne’s household, his daughter refuses to play with Henry. “I wanna stay with you”, she murmurs into his shoulder. Again Spencer accepts his defeat and sits down on the couch next to his best friend.

“Sweetheart, you need to let me go. I have to go to the bathroom, you can’t come with me.” This is followed by a tsunami of tears. While JJ tries to console her, he slips out of the room discreetly.

Due to (Y/N)’s current grumpiness and Spencer’s fatigue they quickly call it a night, even though he could use some more comfort from his friends.

“Good night, Sweetheart. Sleep tight and dream nice. I love you”, he says after tucking his child in and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Night night, Daddy. I love you, too”, her small voice echoes back to him and makes him smile softly.

Spencer finds his way back to the living room and sits down with a book in his lap. As expected he doesn’t get much reading done, too distracted by his own thoughts. The events of the night of his colleague’s, his friend’s, death replay themselves over and over again.

What if he made his conclusions faster? He is supposed to be the smart one, the one the team relies on for making important connections. But he failed once so who knows what happens when he fails again? Next time it could be the whole team dying. He could die. He would leave (Y/N) alone with the team gone. His mother isn’t capable of caring for her and his father doesn’t even know she exists. She will go into foster care, into a home with too many kids. She will be looked over, too small to be seen. Her potential will go to waste and she will never achieve anything she is capable of. And all that because he hasn’t made a conclusion fast enough.

Spencer’s scars on his forearm itch worse than ever. One shot. Only one shot to make the thoughts go away. To make the guilt go away, the bad feelings. He needs it. He needs to cure himself from the symptoms of being a human.

Before the young doctor even registers what he is doing he already put his jacket on and looks for his wallet when a voice startles him.

“Daddy, i can't sleep. Can I stay with you again?” (Y/N) stands in the doorway, clutching her stuffed animal and her blanket, shielding her eyes from the light, oblivious to what her father was about to do.

“Oh Darling, of course. Do you want me to read to you? Or we drink hot chocolate and watch a movie?” He suggests, ready to distract himself from anything that’s going on in his mind. A few minutes later his daughter cuddles into his side while watching once again Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Spencer is just happy to have his light in his life all the time and is ready to tackle any task to keep her there, may it be once again the weekly visits for anonymous narcotics or time off from work to process the events together in therapy.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x child!reader

[wishuhadstayed]

It Takes a Village

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: about 3000

Summary: when the Hotchner fam is in need, it’s a good thing to have many helping hands. Part 9 to Begin Again.

Warnings: mentions of blood and pregnancy complications

Author’s Note: I really am sorry for that cliffhanger y’all. 😬 I’m just glad you still love me after being gone for like, a literal year. Shoutout to @agent-laufeyson you’re the best 💜 (PS, please ignore Haley in the below gif, also please picture Hotch in the hospital in casual clothes.) 😌

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

For a moment, Aaron’s whole world stopped turning. A cold, familiar sense of dread settled into his chest at the words, “You all may want to sit down for this.”

“Not again,” he thought. “I can’t do this again, we can’t do this again.”

“God please,” he begged internally, slumping into a chair, “if you’re listening, please don’t take her. We need her.”

Suddenly, the voice of a surgeon cut through the silent room like a knife.

“Sir, your wife lost a significant amount of blood. We had no choice but to perform an emergency c-section. Although your daughter is slightly pre-term, she seems to be in good health. However, we would like to keep her a while for monitoring.”

“And my wife?” He inquires, voice trembling with fear.

“It was touch and go there for a while, but we were able to locate the source of bleeding and get it under control. Your wife is out of surgery. She’s stable, but she is very weak and currently asleep. She will also be hospitalized for recovery. At least a week most likely, maybe longer.”

“Mama’s gonna be okay?” Jack pipes up.

“Yes, she is buddy,” Aaron replies, ruffling his hair. “Thanks to that doctor.”

“Thanks for making my mama feel better.”

“You’re most welcome,” the surgeon replied. “You and your dad can go visit her now. The rest of you will have to wait. She needs her rest. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you doctor,” Aaron says, shaking his hand with a sigh of relief.

“You go Aaron,” Rossi encourages, clapping him on the shoulders before he even had a chance to turn around. “Go see your wife and baby. We’ll wait.”

——————————————————————————

Entering your hospital room, Aaron thought your sleeping face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Sitting on the side of your hospital bed, he grabbed hand as you stirred awake.

“Hello Angel,” he murmurs as you take everything in. “You gave us quite a scare,” he mentions, softly caressing your face.

“The baby,” you whisper, touching his hand.

“Ssssshhhh,” he soothes. “The baby is fine. She’s in the nursery. You just rest okay?”

Instant relief washes over your face. “Jack?”

“I’m right here mama!” he exclaims, scrambling into Aaron’s lap.

“I want to see the baby,” you tell Aaron.

“I know darling, but you really need your rest.”

“I NEED to see her, Aaron.” You plead.

Taking the hint, he begins to rise. “Jack why don’t you stay with mama, while I go talk to the nurse, okay?”

“Okay Daddy,” he agrees, climbing in the bed next to you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better mama,” Jack says, looking up at you with the sweetest face.

“Me too, baby,” you reply. “Are you ready to meet your sister?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims with a look of excitement. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course you can buddy, as long as you’re careful,” Aaron replies as he re-enters the room. “The nurses are bringing her down.”

A few minutes later a nurse arrives holding a tiny pink blanket. “Who wants to hold her first?” She inquires.

“You should hold her first, Aaron,” you suggest.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists. “You’ve been the strongest, bravest mom I know already. You should hold her first.”

As the nurse places the tiny, squirming bundle with her father’s dark hair in your arms, all the stress and chaos of the day seems to just melt away.

As you free a tiny hand from the swaddle so she can grasp your finger, her eyes flutter open.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you wonder aloud.

“Absolutely lovely,” Aaron muses, draping his arm around your shoulders. “Just like her mother.”

——————————————————————————

Meanwhile, cooped up in the waiting area, the BAU team began to grow restless.

“Maybe we should get out of the hospital and go shopping while we wait,” Garcia suggests. “I think Y/N deserves all the gifts and pretty things today.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” JJ questions.

“TARGET RUN!” all three women exclaim in unison.

They all wandered the aisles like kids in a candy store.

“I’m getting her balloons,” Penelope says. “Like so many pink balloons. Nobody can feel bad with that many balloons.”

“Flowers,” Rossi chimes in. “We should get her plenty of flowers to make the room cheerful.”

“We’ll have to get those from hospital gift shop,” JJ comments.

“I’d want chocolate,” Emily suggests. “Chocolate helps everything.”

“Look,” Morgan says, showing a pink stuffed bunny to Garcia. “It’s cute right? For the baby?”

“It’s perfect, Derek,” she assures, grabbing his hand. “Very cute.”

“Oh, a memory book,” Reid mentions. “So they can write down details every day.”

“Leave it to the genius to pick out a book,” Morgan jokes with a playful shove.

“Settle down, boys.” JJ cuts in. “As much as I’m sure she’ll appreciate the pretty gifts, she did just have a baby,” she reminds the group. “She needs some practical things too, trust me.” As she picks out a blanket and a pacifier, Henry begins to grow restless. As she picked up a snack for him, another idea crossed her mind.

“We should get something for Jack, too,” she thought aloud. “LEGOs. He loves LEGOs. And some gummy bears.”

A sudden ringing startles everyone.

“Ssssshhhhhhh,” Garcia commands as she puts the phone on speaker. “It’s Y/N! Quiet!”

“Hello my angel dear,” she lilts, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m very tired, but otherwise happy and healthy,” you report. “Is everyone with you?”

“We’re all here,” JJ chimes in.

“Hi everyone!” You reply. “In that case, I have news. The nurses have said that we’re allowed to have visitors first thing in the morning, if you’d like to see our newest addition.”

“Oh, wild horses could not keep us away, ma’am.” Penelope assures. “We’ll see you all bright and early.”

“Not too early, Penny,” you remind her. “You gotta give me a chance to wake up first.”

“Right, sooooo 10am then?”

“It’s a date.”

——————————————————————————

That evening, you soaked up as much family time as possible before the wave of visitors began. Aaron was a natural, as you’d known he would be from seeing him with Jack.

Watching him with the baby was quickly becoming your favorite pastime. The look of sheer enchantment on his face as he held her close and rocked her made you fall a little more in love with him every moment.

“Daddy loves you so much,” he coos to the tiny bundle in his arms.

“What?” he questions as he catches you watching.

“Oh nothing,” you reply, ruffling Jack’s hair as he slept by your side. “Just wondering how I got so lucky.”

“I think it’s me who got lucky. I thought I’d never love again. I was so closed off. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life as a single dad, doing everything on my own. Now,” he chokes out, “now I’d fall apart without you.”

“Good thing you’ve got two of us now to keep you boys in line then,” you return with a wicked grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already.”

——————————————————————————

When you awoke the next morning, you were greeted by the most beautiful sight. Aaron still asleep in the recliner next your bed, his arm cradling the sleeping baby on his chest. While you hated to disturb the peaceful scene, you knew the team would be arriving as soon as the clock struck 10.

“Aaron,” you whisper. “Aaron, wake up,” slightly louder this time. He stirs awake, moving slowly so as not to wake the sleeping child.

“What is it babe?”

“The team will be here soon,” you inform him.

“Ah. I should go get ready,” he replies.

“Mama, can I hold her while dad gets ready?” Jack asks, startling the both of you.

“Oh buddy, I didn’t realize you were awake,” you say to him. “Of course you can hold her if you want.”

Jack scrambled into your lap as Aaron rounded the bed.

“Just be really careful with her bud,” Aaron reminds him as he settles the baby on his lap.

“I will dad,” he replies.

As Aaron walked away, the baby’s eyes fluttered open and she let out a small cry.

“Here, why don’t you give her a pacifier?” you suggest.

“Sssshhhh, don’t cry,” he says, giving her the pacifier, and then softly stroking her head.

“What do you think about your baby sister, Jack?”

“She’s pretty, Mama, just like you.”

“Thank you baby,” you reply. “That’s very sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.”

“And I love you all,” Aaron adds.

——————————————————————————

A short while later, a knock at the door alerts you that your visitors have arrived.

“You ready for this?” Aaron asks as he walks to the door.

“I’ve never been more ready. I just know they’re gonna be so in love with her.”

Aaron opens the door and the team flows in with their myriad of gifts.

Penelope hands off her bouquet of balloons to Derek and rushes over to hug you.

“Oh Y/N,” she gushes, cupping your face. “You look beautiful. It’s so good to see you, we were all worried sick.”

“Thank you Penny,” you reply, eyeing the room. “I’m assuming the shopping spree was your idea.”

“Oh shush woman,” she scolds. “You deserve it. We wanted your room to cozy and pretty because we heard you’re going to be here for a while. Sue us.”

“Thank you all for the gifts, you really didn’t have to do any of that,” you reply, tearing up as you address the whole room. “Just being there for us when we needed you the most was all we could ask for and you’ve gone above and beyond.”

“This is the least we could do, really,” JJ assures, softly rubbing your hand.

“Oh fine, be modest if you insist,” you reply with an eye roll. “I’d open all the gifts now, but I imagine you’re all much more interested in our slightly earlier than anticipated arrival.”

Seemingly for the first time since they came in, everyone notices Aaron’s presence and the little pink bundle in his arms.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you continue, “the announcement you’ve all been waiting for. Introducing Miss Savannah Rose.”

“What a lovely name,” Emily chimes in.

“Thank you,” Aaron cuts in. “We would have told you all sooner but we actually just decided on it while we were here,” he says beaming down at his perfectly content infant daughter. “You can all hold her if you like.”

“I’m sure we’d all love to,” JJ replies, “but i think we should leave that you for now. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to spoil her rotten just as soon as she gets home.”

“Right! We just wanted to check on everyone and make sure you have everything you need,” Garcia adds.

“Well thanks to you guys, I think our hospital room is pretty well stocked. I just wish I could say the same for the nursery,” you say with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with the nursery?” Rossi inquires.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Aaron admits. “Between me traveling so much for work and Y/N being pregnant and taking care of Jack, it got pushed to the wayside. I thought we had a bit more time.”

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you it’s not your fault?” you soothe, reaching for his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“I know, I just wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“It already is dear,” you assure him with a smile. “Why don’t you go get some coffee, you look exhausted.”

“Good idea babe,” he says, settling the baby into your arms.

“I could use a cup myself,” Morgan adds.

——————————————————————————

“Derek, I need your help,” Aaron pleads, once out of earshot of the room.

“Of course man, anything you need.”

“We’re going to be in the hospital for about a week while Y/N recovers and I’m desperate to have a nice nursery for her when we get home, but I obviously can’t leave her alone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but is there anything you could do to help?”

“Sure thing man, don’t worry about it. That’s the best gift I could hope to give you.”

“You’re the best,” Aaron replies, slapping him on the shoulder. “Just don’t let Y/N find out, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed,” Derek promises.

——————————————————————————

That afternoon Derek had the whole team assembled in the nursery to get started.

“Alright everyone,” he begins, “We’ve got one week to make this the best surprise gift possible. Let’s make it happen.”

“What color should we paint it?” Penelope inquires.

“Got that covered already,” Derek replies while opening a paint can. “Purple. Hotch said it’s Y/N’s favorite color.”

“Oh Derek, it’s perfect!” she squealed, squeezing him tight. “She’s gonna adore it.”

“While the two of us are painting,” Penny addresses the group, “why don’t the rest of you do some some shopping?”

“Great idea, baby girl.” Morgan chimes in. “I think they’ve got the basics from the baby shower and I saw a crib and changing table in the garage, but I’m sure you guys can find things they’re missing.”

“Oh I think we’ve got this,” JJ states confidently. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she commands, herding Emily, Rossi, and Reid out the door.

When the group arrived back at the Hotchner house several hours later, the nursery walls were covered in a soft shade of lavender; as were Morgan and Garcia.

“I don’t know how you two managed to get any paint on the walls,” JJ said with a grin.

“Smile for the camera, you two,” Emily cuts in, snapping a picture on her phone as the couple hug and smile in their paint splattered clothes.

——————————————————————————

The next day conversation flowed as team was busily assembling furniture. Rossi, Reid, and Morgan worked on the crib while Penny, Emily, and JJ tackled the changing table.

“Let me know if you ladies need any help,” Morgan mentions casually.

“Oh right,” Emily grumbles, “because OBVIOUSLY the women need a big, strong man’s help, right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Derek counters. “I was just offering.”

“Oh not only will we get ours done without your help, we’ll get it done faster,” Emily challenges.

“Oh yeah?”

“YEAH!” all three women reply in unison.

“You’re on,” Morgan accepts.

“Oh you’re so going down,” Penny taunts, throwing pieces of plastic wrapping at Derek.

“Losers buy sushi for lunch?” Rossi suggests.

“Oh that could be pretty expensive for you Dave,” JJ comments. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Rossi says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Two hours later, as JJ and Emily were finishing up the crib, the men came dragging in, arms full of takeout bags.

“Say cheese!” Penelope squeals as she takes their picture. “For the bragging rights.”

——————————————————————————

The next days were spent putting the finishing touches on the room.

A purple gradient butterfly mobile above the crib from JJ.

A bookshelf with a fully stocked library, specially selected by Reid. Emily places her floral covered photo album on top.

Lavender curtains with a shimmery overlay, Penelope’s contribution.

Derek’s stuffed bunny, carefully laid in a white gliding chair with purple cushions, which was generously paid for by Dave.

Derek lays a soft shag rug over the hardwood floor and drapes a plush floral blanket over the edge of the crib.

“I think that about does it, guys,” he says with a look of pride.

“You know, I bought them that photo album,” Emily comments, “it would be a shame if we didn’t put a few in there as a gift.”

“Yeah, but how do we get a picture of the whole group?” JJ wonders out loud.

“We could set a timer,” Penelope suggests.

“Yeah, but who sets the timer?” Reid asks, as he turns to see the whole group looking at him.

“Seriously guys?”

Between the camera falling over, closed eyes, and Spence not making it back before the timer, it took a few tries before there was a good group shot.

“And now a funny one,” Penny insists.

Once the photos, including the bloopers, have been printed and arranged in the album, JJ makes sure to write descriptions for each in the margins before setting it back on the shelf.

“Good job team,” Derek announces. “Our work here is done.”

——————————————————————————

After all the chaos surrounding the birth and a full week in the hospital, nothing felt better than standing at the door of your house with the love of your life and your two beautiful children.

“You ready to finally get some rest, baby?” Aaron asks as he ushers you inside the house, one solid arm arm around the small of your back and Savannah in her carrier on the other.

“Yeah,” you sigh, dropping your purse on the coffee table and slipping off your shoes. “I just wish we didn’t still have to worry about the nursery,” you groan, plopping down onto the sofa.

“About that,” Aaron says with a mischievous grin, offering you his free hand.

“What are you up to, Aaron Hotchner?” You muse as he leads you down the hallway.

“Just trust me,” he assures, coming to a halt in front of the nursery door. “Close your eyes,” he requests.

“What is going on here?” you inquire again.

“Just close your eyes please, darling,” he asks. “For me.”

“Alright, alright,” you comply, “this better be good.”

“Don’t open them until I say so, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

With eyes closed and Jack close by your side, you hear the door open and the rustling of paper inside the room.

“Alright,” he whispers, sliding his arm around your shoulders. “Open your eyes.”

—————————————————————————

Taglist: @ange-must-die @agent-laufeyson @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito @hotchnerundercover @pedropascalian @thenewnormalforensicator @crowdedimagines @sagittarianwolf @kleff03

#aaron hotchner imagine #1 800 aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #thomas gibson imagine #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner #hotch

[gucciwins]

Weeping Willow

Harry sends his wife for a girl’s night, and their five-month-old baby falls sick.

Word count: 5,093

A/N: i am no expert on babies (unless it’s my almost two-year-old niece) but i have it on good authority this does bring down fevers. This was written for @tbslenthusiast dadathon. i hope you love it. xx

___

It's a Saturday night, and Harry tries his best to convince his wife to go out with her friends for a nice dinner while he cares for baby Willow.

Their five-month-old infant. The sweetest little girl to grace the earth in Harry's opinion. 

He's never felt a love like this, a never-ending love for his child. He swears he has never been more in love with his wife, his twin flame, for giving him the greatest gift he will ever receive. 

She's standing there cradling Willow in her arms as she begins to drift off to sleep. Humming a song she hasn't shared with Harry. Something special between mother and daughter. As much as Harry hates to admit it but their daughter is a momma's girl at heart. 

Willow feels that extra protection from her mother; he gives her all the cuddles and kisses, but there is no more special bond than when Y/N holds her close to her heart, and Willow settles down in seconds. When she is breastfeeding, Y/N tells her the stories of her childhood and when Harry and she were first dating. 

It's the irregular sleep schedule that Y/N has never once complained about. 

Harry wakes up at the oddest of times when he stretches his arms out to reach for Y/N to pull her close to his chest only to find her missing. More time than not, he'll find her at their windowsill, Willow getting her night time meal as Y/N gazes at the moon softly singing Lolo a lullaby that was once sung to Y/N. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look eternal as if she weren't real, and Harry just imagined up this life. 

But she is real, and she is all his, and their daughter is theirs. 

As a kid, this was the life he dreamed of, never knowing if it would come true or not. He will never stop being grateful for all he has in life, full of love. 

Harry is brought out of his thoughts when Y/N addresses him. 

"I don't know, H. She's a little warm." Y/N stands there, the back of her hand gently placed on her baby's forehead before moving it to Willow's cheek. She smiles down at her sleeping baby.

Harry sighs, extending his arms for her to hand him their small baby. She shakes her head, taking two steps back. 

Harry chuckles because he knew this would happen, but he forgot how stubborn she could be. 

She's wearing Harry's lilac robe, her hair curled, and makeup is done. He made her do a red lipstick because he missed it. It's one that Gemma gave her that's smudge and transfer free. Meaning he can kiss her with it all night long without his lips turning red. 

"Willow is fine. Maybe she passed some gas." 

She rips her gaze from Willow and shoots him a glare. He puts his hands up in defense. 

"If she starts feeling sick, you know the crying won't stop. She likes it when I soothe her."

"She's my daughter too. I can take care of her and soothe her just as good."

She kisses Willow's head, slowly continuing to grow brown curls just like Harry's. "I know you can, but there's this motherly instinct telling me not to go."

"My husband instinct is saying that my wife should go out to dinner with her friends for a nice dinner and some wine." Harry rebuttals. 

"I don't drink." She mutters into her baby's head as she adjusts her to lay on her chest as she sways side to side. 

"Well, then go crazy with the strawberry lemonade." 

She sighs. Harry knows she's close to giving in. 

Her clothes set out in bed, ready for her to throw on. Harry chose her outfit, and he's proud of it. Camel-tone flared fitted trousers, a black fitted v-neck, and a double-breasted twill blazer to tie the look. Her black Gucci 'sucker' boots waiting for her at the door to be slipped on then head out the door. 

"If I go, you have to promise to text me every hour." 

"Half hour if you really need it." He counters. 

She shakes her head, no. "If you do that, I'll be home by the second text." 

He nods, happy she agreed to go. She needs this no matter how much she had been fighting it. 

"Alright, Lolo, I'm going to leave you with your Daddy for a few hours. I hope you don't miss me too much. I'll make up for leaving you with cuddles for the whole night, munchkin." 

Harry's eyes well up, always in awe at the relationship between his wife and their daughter. Their beautiful five-month-old daughter who Harry, thinks is growing too fast. She's still on the small side, but the doctor assured them she was doing good. 

Y/N placed her in the crib that Harry put together with Gemma's help, who wanted to be involved with as much as Harry would let her. 

She stirs a little, but Y/N pats her chest softly, calming her down. 

"I'm going to go get dressed. Turn on the baby monitor, please?" She points in the direction of it.

"On it, love." 

She walks out and gets dressed quickly, knowing there's a reservation, and she doesn't like arriving late. Harry meets her downstairs baby monitor in hand as she stands boots safely on her feet. 

Harry shamelessly checks her out. He almost begs her to stay after seeing how good she looks, but he knows she needs this.

"Text me when you get there." He wraps her in a hug, not wanting to let go just yet. 

"Of course." 

She pulls back, looking up at him before leaning in to peck his lips three times; she walks out the door, bag in hand, when Harry tugs her wrist, turning her around connecting his lips with hers. It's a short passionate kiss, Harry's tongue fighting for dominance. She lets out a small moan. Y/N, let's Harry be the one to pull back, not at all wanting to break the kiss. 

Harry smirks as he sees the dazed look in her eyes. "Just so you know what you have waiting at home for you." 

"You menace." Harry leans on the door as she walks out. "I love you, H." 

"And I love you." 

Harry watched as she drove away before going back in and heading straight to the nursery, where his darling Willow is still sleeping.  

"Just you and me, Lolo," Harry whispers as he sits in the rocking chair and lays back to rest his eyes. It's like they say when the baby sleeps, he does as well. 

____

Harry wakes up when he hears a small sneeze. He peeks at Willow, but she still has her eyes closed. He picks up his phone to check how long he slept and is shocked. It was only twenty minutes; he felt like it had been much longer now, feeling a bit more energized. 

He sees a text Darling and opens it, 

I've arrived safely. 

I miss you both so much already. xx 

Harry can't help but smile. He misses her already. He might always be playing music in the house that fills the silence, but Harry only does it because she sings along to each song no matter how bad she can butcher the lyrics to an unknown song. 

She fills the home with warmth and love. 

I love you! Lolo is still sleeping. Have a lovely night. xx 

Harry sat in the rocking chair, just gazing at his daughter. Her cheeks were a little red, but he thought she might be a bit warm. He unwraps the blanket, just watching her stretch out her small fists. 

Willow slowly blinks her eyes open, a small smile on her face when she sees her father looking down at her. 

"You up, Lolo? No more sleep, I'm guessing." 

She continues to stare at Harry before turning her head to the door. Harry knows she's waiting for someone to come in. After a few moments of no movements, Willow looks at Harry, giving her a small smile.

"Waiting for your Mum, I know. She'll be back later; for now, it's you and me." 

Harry reaches in to pick her up, gently shushing her, not wanting her to start crying. He walks down the stairs slowly, the fear of tripping down the stairs more present than ever with his baby in his arms. 

Harry sits her on the couch, a pillow propped up on the back to help support her back, and grabs her stuffed bunny that was left on the coffee table. It's her favorite toy to play with at all times. 

Willow sets it in her lap, not at all looking at it, eyes on Harry. He sees her eyes begin to well up, and he knows the tears are coming. He scoops her up gently, letting the bunny fall to the floor so Harry could soothe his baby. 

"My Willo baby, no tears. You know it breaks my heart." He begins shushing gently. Gemma swears by it watching Alice do the Ss in New Amsterdam. Y/N does it too, her grandma teaching her that when she helped watch over younger cousins. 

This settles her for a second, resting her head in the crook of Harry's neck as he rubs a hand gently down her back. "Good baby, Momma would be proud of us." He knows he made a mistake once she lets out a loud wail. 

He can only assume the word Momma did it for her. 

His phone alarm begins to ring, meaning it's the hour update, and if he doesn't check-in, she'll call, and if he doesn't answer, she'll worry even more and drive herself more. He does not need that happening. 

Harry will not let her call; he'll send a sleeping photo of Willow to Y/N to keep her calm because he can do this. He can tend to his child alone. She's half of his DNA; why wouldn't he be able to. 

His Mum always told him babies cry for three reasons: dirty diaper, sleepy, and hunger. He assumes she's hungry. Has to be, her diaper doesn't feel full, and she also doesn't smell. 

As Harry goes to the kitchen, he stops at the fridge. He sees all the magnets that Y/N loves collecting when visiting a new country, state, or city. Her favorite being the Trevi Fountain. Tells her every time she sees it, she can see Harry down on his knee, tears in his eyes and heart wide open for her. Safe to say it became his favorite as well. Right under it is a yellow sticky note "Just in case xx Dr. Harp" The phone number of Willow's pediatrician. 

Y/N really is the best, but he knows that he has everything under control, or at least he keeps telling himself that as Willow continues her crying, no amount of words calms her. He'd also call his Mum before the pediatrician, who would only end up calling Y/N. 

"Mummy left your milk in the fridge; now, all we have to do is warm it up." 

Willow's cries go quiet for a second at what Harry can only think was at word milk. He can do this. 

They don't bottle feed her as often, both preferring her to breastfeed directly from Y/N. Harry encouraged her to pump milk because Y/N has complained over too many milk stained shirts. It has helped her tremendously. A few times, when Y/N was too tired to get up, he offered to warm the milk to feed Willow. Y/N knew how important it was for Harry, so she allowed him and began pumping more for Harry to help provide her during the day. 

He gets a bowl and fills it with hot water, then places the bottle in. He knows it should be a few minutes, he begins singing to Willow. He sings her the song he wrote for his sister, which holds meaning to Y/N now, finding a connection that makes them feel at peace when hearing the song. As Harry gently sings 'Sweet Creature,' he sees her settle, nose runny from the tears, he grabs one of her clothes that Y/N keeps in the kitchen. Truth be told, she has them spread all over the house to have one on hand when necessary. He wipes the snot then drapes it over his open shoulder. He checks the temperature, able to hear Y/N scold him in his head for wanting to skip the step. 

"Lolo, going to go sit down, and then you can begin eating." She blinks up at him, her green eyes unfocused, refusing to settle on one place of his face. 

He sits and adjusts Willow to cradle her in his arms. He does a final temperature check on his wrist and is happy with the outcome. He slowly brings it up to her lips to startle her, and she latches on after a few seconds. 

Harry leans back on the chair, releasing a long sigh. He feels victorious, even just for a moment. 

The phone on the couch seat next to him displays a text:

 I love you both. xx 

He's in the clear. 

Harry sings Willow the first song that pops into his head, well he mainly hums as she has her eyes closed and a fist clenched on her blanket and the other tucked in. He pulls the bottle away once he sees no more movement. He wipes the outside of her mouth very carefully to not disturb her. 

"Willow, Angel, I need to burp you. You shouldn't even feel it." Harry likes warning her; he knows she understands. 

He's done relatively quickly, settling her back in his arms to let her sleep. Harry would love to turn the television on, but he settles for staring at the angel in his arms. 

Harry frowns when he sees Willow's eyes flutter open. She sleeps longer after eating. 

"Lolo, it's barely been ten minutes. That's not enough for a growing baby. You need to grow up to be strong, just like Momma."

Willow lets out a small cough. It startles Harry, not having heard the sound before. He gently picks her up and begins patting her back, soothing her as she calms down. 

Harry thinks back to the phone number stuck on the fridge but shakes the thought away because one cough is not enough to make a call, especially this late at night. 

He is now slowly walking in front of the couch, trying to get her to fall back to sleep. It's not working. 

It starts off in small whimpers before turning into loud wails. 

This is not good. 

Harry tries his best to place his baby's cries, but it does not sound familiar. He isn't calling Y/N; worrying her is not part of tonight's plans, but there is someone in mind who will always answer him. Without thinking twice, he goes to favorites and picks the second person. 

"Hello love, how are you?" 

He's greeted by a calming voice, but it does nothing to soothe the pounding in his heart. "Hi, Mum." Harry isn't even sure she heard with Willow's loud cries. 

"Is something wrong? Why is little Willow crying? Where's Y/N?" Anne is quick to jump in.

"Today was her first girl's night out that I was insistent she go out to even though she didn't want to, but she should be back in the next hour or so." He addressed that question before jumping into the most important one. "Willow coughed then settled down before bursting into this cry. I've never heard it before. It's not her hungry one because she ate half an hour ago, and her diaper is clean." He lets out a sob he didn't know he was holding back. 

"Oh, dear, right. First off, is she hot? warmer than usual." 

Harry pulls her back, face scrunched up, nose full of snot. He places the back of his hand on his forehead, and it's burning. "Yes, she's warm. But couldn't it be from the crying?" 

Anne sighs, worried for her son, but this is parenthood having to see your child get sick and old help them through it. The first time is always the worst, but each time after that still breaks your heart. "No love, check her temperature and call the pediatrician. Tell her the symptoms, and you can go from there. Right, hang up, call Y/N, and the pediatrician in that order." 

Harry agrees to get her off the phone and to make the call right away. Anne knows Harry well enough that he will skip one important thing she told him to do, so she takes it upon herself to get it done. 

 He heads upstairs, sitting the still crying Willow in the crib as he searches for the thermometer he knows Y/N keeps next to the wipes for emergencies. He is quick to take off her shirt as gently as one can be and sticks it under her armpit as he waits for it to ring as he dials Dr. Harp.

There is an answer on the third ring, just as the thermometer beeps. 

"Dr. Harp, hello, it's Harry Styles, father of Willow Styles." He says in a rush.

"Yes, Mr. Styles, what can I do for you." The doctor's voice is kind, and it calms Harry knowing there's a professional helping him. 

"Well, my daughter slept about ten minutes before waking up after eating, and that isn't normal for her. She had a bit of a cough and has not stopped crying for the past twenty minutes now. She's burning up Doc. The thermometer says 103F. Shit, I meant 39C. My wife's family got us a fancy thermometer that gives us both numbers." He feels the need to explain a hand on the back of Willow's head, trying to calm her down as well as himself. 

"Well, it seems it could be a common cold. There is not a lot to do, except keep your baby drinking milk. Mrs. Styles is still breastfeeding, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's important to keep her hydrated and check with her through the night. To bring down the temperature, a lukewarm bath would help as well as a humidifier because, from the sounds of it, she is a bit congested." 

Harry nods along to everything she is saying, repeating it back. "Thank you so much, Dr. Harp." 

"It's no problem; if the fever doesn't break or gets higher than 40C, then I suggest you head straight to the hospital." Dr. Harp says her goodbyes as he picks up Willow and heads to their bedroom, taking her into their bathroom. 

He looks around, not sure what to do first that he misses the sound of the door opening and closing as well as footsteps up the stairs. It might have also been Willow's crying. 

Willow lock's eyes with Y/N over Harry's shoulder, stopping for a second, causing Harry to gasp before she starts up louder than before for not being in her mother's arms. 

"Willow, darling," Y/N smiles at her daughter, cheeks red and nose snotty but still her beautiful baby. 

Harry feels like he can breathe properly now that she's home with him. His missing half home, finally feeling complete. He does feel awful for not calling her right away, but he swore she was having a good time. 

Harry hands over Willow to Y/N's waiting arms watching as she cradles her close, pressing repeated kisses to her daughter's brown hair. Willow instantly clenches a fist onto her necklace, not that Y/N minds, but Harry feels guilty for depriving his daughter of her mother. It was his fault she was out tonight. 

"How'd you get here so quick?" Are the first words Harry thinks to say. 

Harry thought she'd be mad at him for not calling, but all he sees are her kind and gentle eyes he fell in love with. 

"Anne called me to update me, but I was already ten minutes from home. I had dinner but got it to go having that nagging feeling you needed me. Anne called it mother's intuition, but" She breathes in Willow's smell, Harry finding it endearing how she always says she smells amazing like peaches. "I swear I could feel how distressed you were. I thought you were having a bad time, so I got you ice cream and brought home a meal we could share." 

He leans against the sink, a small grin forming on his face. "I did always tell you we were soulmates." 

Y/N steps further into the bathroom, heading to the tub to get the water-filled. She sits on the toilet, letting it fill before dipping her hand in from time to time. It feels a bit less than halfway before she closes the tap. 

"Doctor's orders were getting the temperature down, right?" Y/N asks Harry, and he nods. "Well, in the lukewarm bath, she goes." Y/N fakes as if she is going to place Willow in before hugging her to her chest once more. "I'm only playing." She boops Lolo's nose.

"Your momma thinks she's so funny, Lolo." Harry rolls his eyes at her, not at all, hiding the love behind them. 

"Get in the bath with her, H." Y/N has successfully undressed Willow, giving her kisses all over, causing Willow to let out a small giggle. 

Harry near tears now. "That's the first time she laughed this entire night." 

"Honey, listen. She hasn't gotten sick before. It's okay, we're learning." She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, and he leans into it eagerly. "We are learning together." He nods as she pulls her hand away. "Now, do I need to undress my other baby as well?" 

He smiles. "You're welcome to, but I got this." He slips off the black shirt and grey sweats, leaving on his briefs.

The water is perfect. Not that he expected any different because she does everything with extra care and love for Willow. He's glad to have her as his life partner and mother of his child and future children. 

He slips in, sitting down, letting Y/N gently place Willow on his bent knees. He cups her head, gently sinking himself lower. She hands him a cloth, and he looks at her, eyes wide. 

"Wet it, rinse it a bit, then just sponge it around her." 

He nods but doesn't move to receive it. Y/N moves forward, dips it in the water, and squeezes it leaving a bit of water. She gently gets Lolo's back patting before moving down. 

"Thank you." He says and accepts the cloth. 

Y/N makes her way to the bedroom. "You're leaving?" He questions, causing Willow to look at her as well. 

She laughs at her two loves, both wanting her close. "Going to turn on the humidifier. It's going to be good for her and her congestion. Then will get you both a new change of clothes before coming back. Is that okay with you both?" 

Harry looks down at Willow that still has her eyes on her Momma. "What do you think, Lolo? Think we should let Momma take care of us." He hums as if hearing her response. "She said not to take too long." 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

Harry settles in, Willow moving her hand in the water, intrigued by the ripples allowing Harry to rinse her. He feels good, feels great, and can honestly help her and no longer cry about it. 

Y/N knows he needs this but hopes she isn't feeling too awful about leaving Willow when she got sick for the first time.

For all, he knows she could be crying in their bedroom or, even worse, the nursery where he can't hear her. 

But that's what Harry is here to remind her what a fantastic team they are and how she saved the day like always. He's proud of her just as he knows she's proud of him. 

____

It's twenty minutes when Y/N walks back in. Now dressed in grey sweats and an old white shirt that Willow loves to cling on. She approaches, and Harry raises Willow so that she can wrap her in the yellow towel. 

"My munchkin smells so good." She kisses her cheek. She turns to look at Harry with a smile on her face making him smile back. "Shower, I'm going to dress her, and then I'll bring your clothes in."

"Okay, love." 

Harry drains the water before turning on the showerhead, letting the warm water wash away the stress in his body. He doesn't take too long, wanting to cuddle his two girls all night long.

Walking out, dressing in the warm clothes that she must have thrown in the dryer for him knowing how he likes to be warm after a long night. He smiles, slipping the shirt over his head, slipping on the black sweats with no need for briefs. Turning off the bathroom light, closing the door, he sees Willow lying on Y/N's chest. 

"How is she doing?" Harry paddles over, hovering over Y/N to kiss her forehead, doing the same to Willow.

"Better, the temperature is at 98." 

Harry smiles, glad she's under three digits again. She looks sweet dressed in a bodysuit with small bumble bees all over. Y/N wrapped the knitted mint green blanket that Y/N's mother made for Willow around her shoulder to keep her warm but not enough to overheat.

"That's great. Our baby is so strong." Harry gets in bed and sits against the headboard, making Y/N shift over to rest her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around Willow for support. 

____

It's an hour of silence basking in hearing their baby's breathing. Not as smooth due to the congestion but better than before. Harry places a kiss on Y/N's forehead when he feels the first tear, then many more follow. A sob breaking out, but breathing even to not disturb their sleeping baby on her chest. 

"Love, lovie, hey. Don't cry. She's doing better already." He wraps the arm tighter, hoping he can transfer all his love for her through the hug. 

"I'm just overwhelmed." She chokes out. 

Harry sits up to face her, reaches his hands out to wipe her rapidly falling tears.

"Please don't be mad with yourself; if there is anyone to be mad at, it's me." He pleads for her to understand. "I told you to leave us be." 

"Not mad at you, honey." She whimpers. "I-I-I'm upset I wasn't here to help you. But you handled it so well. Very proud of you." 

Harry sits there, tears falling out of his eyes now because she was proud. He did nothing. He knows he did nothing; he called his Mum and the doctor. He never got her to stop crying.

"I didn't do anything."

"Honey, you did." Her voice firm, one hand reaching up to gently raise his head to look at her. "You called Anne because you knew she would help and then called Dr. Harp for help." 

"But she never stopped crying, not until you held her." 

She shakes her head. "She was feeling bad, she cried at discomfort and unusual feelings. Might have also sensed your panic," She teases. He lets out a small chuckle. 

"We're a team. Together and apart, H." 

Harry lays down on his side, pulling Y/N down with him. He does it slowly to not move Willow; Harry lays his head on her shoulder, looking down at their baby. He lets himself relax, knowing she's going to be okay.

"I love you." He whispers. No response causing him to look up at a grinning Y/N. "Say it back." 

She giggles. "Thought you were talking to Lolo." 

"That was for you, wife." 

"My bad," She pecks his nose. "I love you, H." 

"Missed." He mutters, puckering his lips in her directions. 

"Dork." She closes the small distance and hums at the sweet taste that is Harry and mint toothpaste. He deepens it for a few seconds before pulling back. His eyes closed. He kisses her from her cheeks to her collarbones, no spot left untouched. He steals one more kiss before settling down. 

"Sleep tight, my darling, Willow," Harry whispers, throwing his arm over Willow's small body and Y/N's stomach for extra protection.

He peeks one eye open to see Y/N smiling down at Willow, no sign of sleep in her features. "I take it you won't be going out anytime soon again." 

"You got that right." She jokes. "No, it was nice. I forgot how good it is to chat about anything other than what size diapers she's going to need next."

"That's not all we talk about. We also talk about the size of your boobs." 

She snorts at his comment, and he happily joins in. 

"We haven't had a date night, well we have but indoors with a baby always in arms." 

Harry smirks. "What do you have in mind, love?" 

She blushes, "We go away for the weekend, leave Willow with Anne or Mitch since he keeps saying we keep his goddaughter away from him." 

"You'd be okay with that?" Harry checks, making sure she really wants this. 

She nods. "I'll miss her like crazy, my heart is beating faster just at the thought, but I miss you." There's a gleam in her eye, one when she gets lost in a memory. "It's quickies and late-night conversations. As much as I love our daughter, I miss my best friend." 

Harry grins, glad she's sharing this. "Any other time, I'd make a joke, but honestly, I miss you just as much." 

"Then, coordinate with Jeff on a weekend you're free and look for a place we can go to. Driving or flying whatever you find best." 

"Oh, baby, I'm going to make you fall in love with me all over again." 

"I'm counting on it, Harry." 

Harry helps Y/N drift off to sleep with his ideas of where they can go and all the naughty things they will get up to. 

Harry knows nothing in life will be better than being in the arms of his two favorite girls.

___

Thank you for reading. Please reblog it means a lot to me. 

Come and tell me what you thought of Weeping Willow 

#harry styles #dadathon #harry styles x reader #dad! harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #thank you for reading!

[mattsvn]

CHANCE BALL LOVE!

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Meet ugly! strangers to lovers! Getting hit in the head with a volleyball!

Warnings: Blood, head injury, concussion, did I mention getting hit in the head with a volleyball? Food hehe, that's all.

WC: 2.4K

Summary: After being hit with a volleyball by the ace and U19 athlete, Ushijima Wakatoshi, you find yourself laying in the nurse's office, with a bag of ice on your head and a boy apologizing every two minutes for that terrible accident. As the times goes by, you realize that not only you were hit by a ball, but by destiny, and more important, love.

A/N: I'm so excited for this piece! This is a collab for HQHQ (now Anilysium!) The masterlist is here! I hope you like this piece! Reblogs are appreciated!

Life is made up of 90% causality and 10% coincidence.

That was what your mother used to say, with her hands covered with flour up to her elbows, while she prepared one of those delicious desserts. Possibly as a result of all her years perfecting her technique as a pastry chef, but, as in that, she considered that everything had to be planned, measured, and calculated.

On the other hand, your father was always talking about how fate made everything line up perfectly for things in his life to come in abundance, he would happily tell about the coincidences in his life, although the answer was always the same, a debate between the two of them as to what was the truth.

A skeptical pastry chef and a dreamy lawyer, a match made in heaven.

Whatever it had been, causality or causality, you never thought a hit of luck would be so...literal.

It was unusual for you to be in Shiratorizawa's volleyball gymnasium, if you had managed to get into such a prestigious high school it was because of the impeccable grades you always had, sports were not a priority.

You weren't afraid of balls, but, the way everyone was spiking the ball was about to cause you a headache, especially Ushijima Wakatoshi, the school's ace, one of the best athletes in the country.

"Why are we here, again?" you asked, your gaze wandering between the various players and the sound of balls hitting everywhere making the conversation feel distorted.

"Because they" one pointed out, to the rest of the girls looking around the court excitedly "want to see Semi Eita, the pretty boy with the grey hair" she gestured to the boy in the corner, slamming the ball to the ground unaware that they were watching.

"Ah" you replied, somewhat bored, grabbing your backpack and standing up. "Good luck with that, I have to get home early" you said, waving goodbye to everyone.

To leave, or at least, to do it in a faster way, the door that led out of the building, and through which you had to go through the court, was the best option, as it took longer to take the way inside the corridors. The only option as you made your way down the bleachers.

The only thing you heard, with your eyes glued to the ground, trying to go completely unnoticed was a "WATCH OUT!" that made you look up before you saw nothing but darkness.

"I don't know, Wakatoshi-kun, looks like you did kill her" a voice was heard in the distance, the light irritating your eyes if you tried to open them. Still, only because of your stubbornness, you tried to get up without anyone else's help.

"I don't think it's best if you stand up now" you heard a deeper voice, but you didn't know exactly where it was coming from.

"I'm fine" you whispered, placing a hand on where you assumed you had been hit with the volleyball, feeling a warm liquid staining it. It wasn't possible that a spike had cracked your forehead open, right?

Right?

"I'm fine, I have to go" as you stood up, opening your eyes, everything was spinning. An arm went around your shoulders, stopping you from falling back to the ground, firm, but at the same time gentle.

"You need to go to the infirmary, you're bleeding" the voice now seemed to be closer, a little more stable, but, no way did you feel you could even move without throwing up or passing out again, what the fuck had that hit been? Could someone hit someone that hard just with a serve?

The answer was yes, and the name, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You barely felt it when, just like that, he lifted you off the ground, although it seemed that your body felt it. A piece of something, probably cloth or gauze stopped the bleeding. You kept repeating that at least they let you walk, that you were okay, even though, clearly, you had the symptoms of a concussion.

"Are you all right, can you tell me where you are?" questioned Ushijima, entering a room. You had finally managed to open your eyes and recover from the dizziness.

"I'm fine, we're at the high school" you whispered, looking at Ushijima for the first time.

Even if you had gone to games before, you had never seen that look on Wakatoshi's face, a mixture of fear and worry, accompanied by his pale face and a barely noticeable bloodstain on his shirt.

"You can wait outside, dear boy," said the nurse, slightly terrified by what had happened.

A couple of hours passed before they managed to let you go, after calling your parents and making sure you didn't leave the building unless you were accompanied. You didn't need stitches, and that was a huge plus, but still, you left the infirmary with a gauze pad on your forehead, some candy, and a chance to take the rest of the week off to rest, which wasn't such a bad outcome.

You closed the door behind you, looking sideways at Wakatoshi on the floor, who got up almost immediately, still looking scared, even his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the patch on your forehead, which reminded him of the fact that he had accidentally hit you with a volleyball while practicing his serves.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking disheveled, and as if he had done nothing more than wait in the hallway until everything was in order.

"Oh, don't worry, Ushijima-san, I'm fine" you assured, but it didn't seem to be enough for him.

"I'm so sorry, let me take you home to be sure you arrive safely" he asked, with his hands behind his back and his head slightly bent down, like a child discovered stealing the candy from the counter.

"My parents are here to take me home, don't worry" you assured, glancing sideways at the door, somewhat far away. "You can walk me to the car, if you like."

"Of course" he nodded, walking beside you. Up close he looked even taller than he was, his expression calm and his gaze fixed straight ahead, though, he seemed to have a doubt that would leave his lips at any moment "Would you allow me to walk you to school tomorrow?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, somehow, the sound of just both of your footsteps in the hallway was comforting, soothing. It wasn't awkward, or uncomfortable. Ushijma didn't believe in awkward silences, because to him actions said more than words, and, that a question shouldn't be answered right away. So, the way to the entrance was nothing more than waiting for an honest, and safe, answer.

"I got permission to miss classes for the rest of the week, in case the concussion gets complicated, because I have to rest" you began, letting again the calm silence take center stage for a couple of seconds. "Then I won't be back until Monday, but maybe you can come for dinner tomorrow?"

"If you accept that as my apology for hurting you, then by all means" he took the door, allowing you to leave before him, there was still a bit of a walk to the main entrance. "Although, I would like to cook"

"Oh, I didn't know you cooked," you smiled, looking up at him. Ushijima looked down, and, you could swear he was smiling too. "If that's what you prefer, I'd love to."

The rest of the walk was quiet, and calm. Ushijima said goodbye to you after introducing himself to your parents, and apologizing again. In the rearview mirror you saw him standing there, waiting until he didn't see the car to go home.

He was really worried, and it would probably take him a few days to stop being scared about what had just happened. He was even willing to be scolded by the coach for missing two days of practice, just to make sure everything was in order.

Likewise, even if it would be a whole day before you saw Ushijima, he decided to call you just before he went to bed. And at lunchtime, because doing it earlier would surely have woken you up. He didn't talk too much, he let you talk about how annoying the doctors at the hospital had been when you went to check that everything was okay, and all the boring time you spent there.

He called back as soon as he got out of school, to make sure the details of the dinner were ready, he would bring the food, and some dessert, and, you would bring the drinks. You had to convince him though, otherwise he would have bought everything, he would have even brought plates and silverware from his own house.

Wakatoshi took the job of bringing the food seriously, as much as he could buy anything on the way home, he decided to make something himself. The menu was simple, yakisoba, yukari rice balls with an egg on top of each dish. As for dessert, he decided not to risk it, and preferred to buy those box cakes that had been quite popular lately, and, some condensed milk truffles that Tendou gave him as a gift as, he assured, you would love them.

Your parents could be quite reluctant to invite a boy to the house, but, after proposing the idea that you could clean up the picnic table you had in the backyard, where there was a space convenient enough for them to peek in just a little to feel safe, they agreed almost immediately.

During the afternoon, the question you wanted to ignore came out of nowhere, could that be considered a date, and should you dress for the occasion? It didn't seem like anything would match a forehead injury, or that anything would hide it. The result ended up being something you would wear if you were going out with friends, simple, and appropriate for the sunny day out.

Ushijima arrived exactly at the appointed time, and, reluctantly from your parents, you opened the door without them intruding. Looking at him, you failed to understand the nervous feeling that traveled from your heart to the tips of your fingers, making them tremble. Standing with a bag in his left hand, his hair slightly tousled and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Yet another gesture of apology, right?

"Hi, I brought some flowers" he pointed out, extending them. Your hand gently brushing his as you took them, white roses with green accents that made the bouquet look incredibly elegant.

"I already told you that you didn't have to keep apologizing, Ushijima" you mentioned, taking the flowers. "We'll eat outside then you don't need to take off your shoes, but let me go get a vase."

"You look good today" he spoke out of nowhere, making you look at him even though you were already halfway down the aisle. "You look good in those clothes" he seemed to be trying to smile, but you weren't sure. You smiled anyway, grateful for the compliment.

You returned with the bouquet, which would now serve as a decoration for the picnic. You could feel the intense gaze of your parents even if they tried to hide when they peeked, or, according to them, "watched" that everything was in order.

"Are you feeling better then?" he asked, looking at how simply decorated the picnic table was but somehow looked incredibly cozy, with perfect tree shade.

As was now usual, Wakatoshi didn't talk more than usual, at least not at first, he wanted to hear about how you were feeling, and how many days you would be out of school, although you assured him that you would be back to your activities by next Monday, and that, your friends would take care of sending you the homework you needed. Then the questions about him began.

You learned a lot, how he learned to play volleyball at a young age, his interest in cooking but his almost zero ability to make desserts. My mother could make some, you laughed, drinking some cranberry juice in a wine glass, your father's idea. He told you about his new interest in plants, and his father's work out of the country. Even some good anecdotes about the volleyball team.

Dessert was something completely different, by that time, she started to excitedly explain his last game, and what it was like to be in the Olympics. Although it wasn't as noticeable, you could tell in the way his lips curved into a slight smile as he tried to find the right words to define how he felt.

Reluctantly, and after offering to do the dishes, you said no, keeping the bento boxes with the promise that you would bring lunch on Monday for both of you, and now a wide smile on his face, even when he had to go home.

The following Monday came terribly slow, with the only thing that made it better being that Ushijima had not stopped her constant calls, the day possibly delayed by dark clouds heralding torrential rain.

"You don't have to keep apologizing anymore, look, even the wound has healed" you said, to Ushijima who was standing at the entrance, now with a box of the truffles you had liked so much, and which he had now made.

"I know. But I'd really like to walk with you at school" he smiled. "If you'll let me.

"I'd love to."

Life is made up of 80% causality and 20% chance, and, although you wouldn't want to repeat the literal hit of luck you received, you hadn't wanted it any other way.

Going to the gym because your friends wanted to see a cute boy on the volleyball team, having to leave early because you had things to do at home, leaving through the door you had to walk through on the court, getting hit in the head with a volleyball, only to end up walking to school with him, fingers barely brushing, a tender kiss on the cheek before he left.

Eating now inside the house, holding hands, a kiss on the corner of the lips. Waiting in the bleachers for practice to end, a number one jacket covering you from the rain.

The worst way to get to know each other, and, somehow, it seemed you were made for one another.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi icons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x you #hqhq server collab #hqhq server collab meet ugly

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.16

No One

02/04/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,025

Warnings: angst, jealousy, crying, infertility, talk of pregnancy, trouble conceiving, smut, LOTS of fluff

A/N: I’m sorry this one took me a bit to get out. I know y’all tell me not to be sorry but I am still sorry lol I stopped taking my endo meds since I can no longer afford them with no healthcare, I got my period and my endo said FUCK YOU! I was in bed for the entirety of my period with no energy to do anything but lay there and do nothing. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’ve been excited to get to this chapter and I hope it’s worth the wait. Thank you for any comments or reblogs! xoxo

Thor has never been so eager to get back to New Asgard. Even back in the beginning when Jane had been living with him in those first small houses that they’d built when his new Kingdom was nothing but a distant dream.

Even then, this sensation of yearning had not been so strong.

Every moment away from you has been unbearable. The detour he’d taken after just arriving only increased his desire because if seeing Jane has shown him anything it’s that he has indeed made the right choice.

He really hadn’t doubted it, but it’s nice to know that even with Jane standing inches away from him, his heart had not pounded. His breath had not caught. His fingers had not tingled as they once had in their wish to touch.

Her brown eyes, once beyond beautiful, are indeed still pretty. However, they aren’t yours. Yours that look at him with an innocent admiration. Love pours from them so freely. Eagerly.

You’re not afraid to show him how you feel and it takes his breath away how much you’ve given into loving him.

All he can do is try to return your love with the same fervor. So far he thinks he has been doing the job well.

As he struts forward towards your shared bedroom, he reaches into his cloak, down along his left hip to unhook a small leather satchel bulging with its contents.

Smiling down at what he hopes will be a welcome and pleasing gesture, he makes to open the doors to the room but finds them thrust out towards him.

Instinctively his hand twitches around the satchel, almost throwing his palm out to call his remade hammer, but he resists.

From his bedroom spill two beings. One Asgardian, one human. The doors swing shut behind them.

“Doctor Wilson? Alric?” Thor teeters back onto his right foot, completely surprised to see them. “What brings-?”

Both of them look grave and Thor’s heart hits the pit of his stomach. All of the strength in the universe leaves him in one terrifying instant.

“Is Y/N alright? Is she hurt? Injured? Has something happened?”

In his panic he begins to push through them and they move aside for him but before he can open the doors to get in to see you, Alric reaches out to place his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“Just our monthly visit, nothing to fret about Your Majesty,” Alric assures him and yet, Thor’s squirming nerves are not put at ease. “Unfortunately things do not look well for an heir as of now.”

“They don’t exactly look bad either, Alric,” Doctor Wilson interjects. “We’re in uncharted territory, Your Majesty. We have to play this as it comes at us. I’m sure with Alric’s help we’ll find a way to make it work.”

Their words at the moment aren’t making any sense to Thor. All he wants is to see you.

“Right…” he says on reflex, but his voice is weak.

His mind on you and only you.

“She is a little melancholy after our news so, perhaps it’s best we let you go see her. Until next month, Your Majesty,” Doctor Wilson gives him a curtsy. “If you need us before then, you have our numbers.”

Alric gives Thor a bow and the two of them march off, Alric lugging a strange metal case along with him.

With nothing to hold him back now, Thor pulls the doors open and hurries inside.

He scans the room from the left to the right, expecting you in the bathroom but you aren’t there. Several of the doors to the balcony are open letting in a much warmer breeze than this morning but still very cool.

Thor finally spots you sitting at your vanity, your hand pressed to the inside of your elbow as you hold a small cotton ball against the point at which one of your doctors probably drew some blood.

Even that tiny sting of a needle piercing your beautiful skin makes his heart ache. Any pain you feel is his own and he can’t believe he forgot what today was.

“Cherub?”

You don’t look at him and instead keep your hand pressed tightly, fingers moving in slow and small circles.

He can’t see your face from here. You’re turned away, sitting with your gaze trained on the balcony doors closest to your vanity.

Thor can’t take you not looking at him. He sets his satchel on the chaise at the end of the bed and when he reaches your left side, he squats down so that he can look up at you, his right hand taking gentle hold under your left bicep. His left hand he places over your right one, pressed against the inside of your left elbow.

“I’m sorry about today. I forgot they were coming for your tests,” Thor confesses, feeling so guilty he could leap from the balcony and welcome the pain of any bones he might break.

The silence is heavy and he thinks he might really be in for it and opens his mouth to plead for your forgiveness when you give him relief, “So did I.”

He breathes in deeply and with a wave of relief releases his worries in a gust of air.

“Alric said that things did not look good. You’re not with child?”

Even though he knows, he still needs to hear you say it. He wants to know what you’re thinking to make whatever is making your face look so sad go away.

He takes his right hand and runs it along your lower back instead, rubbing in what he hopes is a soothing way.

Finally, you turn your head towards your vanity and he can see more of your heartbreaking expression. He hasn’t seen that loss of hope in your beautiful face since the night you begged him not to make a fool of you just before dinner on a night that feels a lifetime away.

“No, it-it wasn’t a no. The test was inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive? So, what does that mean? Does that mean they don’t know?” Thor asks, confusion twisting his handsome face.

“No, it just means that the test didn’t come back in any way that they could read it. We’re not exactly the same species even if we are compatible physically, we don’t know if we can even get pregnant. They took more of my blood and are going to do the test with more reliable equipment.

“They’ll call when they know something,” you sigh heavily, leaning back against your seat and trapping his hand between it and your body.

Thor tries to think of what he can say to make you feel better. What can he do?

And then what he has to say doesn’t matter as you turn to meet his gaze with your own full of betrayal and suspicion.

When your mouth parts, your words freeze him and his brain short circuits.

“I saw you with Jane earlier on the tower, Thor. I’m sorry but I-I thought you were going to come find me as soon as you got back, not your ex.”

You take a deep breath and Thor watches as your nerves spill forward, your lips trembling as you slowly exhale and all of your fears shine out through the depths of your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you crying, cherub?” Thor gushes, pulling his hand from your back to turn your seat to face him.

He cups both sides of your face, his large thumbs wiping away at the tears that spring forward.

It had seriously messed with you to see him and Jane so happy and close earlier. And then the tests and Doctor Alric and Doctor Wilson had no idea what was wrong with them so that was stressing you out.

All of your jealousy and frustration pours out of you suddenly. So fast and so unrelenting that with just this small bit of affection from Thor makes you shut your eyes tight as you sob two-three times.

“Y/N...no, my love, please. Don’t cry,” Thor begs, his own throat tight as he pulls you towards him.

You let him hold you because as insecure as you feel, as upset as this morning has made you, his love still feels real. The softness in his voice doesn’t sound fake and as much as he is the source of one of the aches in your chest, he’s your comfort now too.

How fucked up is that?!

He caresses the back of your head as you bury it against his shoulder, slumped down a little because of how low he is in his squat.

His other arm is wrapped all the way around you, firm. Possessive and eager to make you feel better. Can you trust this display?

Until this morning you had no reason to doubt it.

“We will have our baby soon, I know it. I can feel it. I’m not only the God of Thunder, you know? Trust me, cherub. I know these things. We’ll have our little one before you know it.”

He sounds so confident, so sure. He’s lost that tightness in his throat a little and he pushes you back so that he can look into your eyes, quickly wiping away at the saltwater stains on your cheeks.

“As for your former worry, I went to the tower because the lights were on. I wasn’t sure who was there so I simply went to check. I wasn’t expecting Jane out of all the people it could have possibly been.

“I’d hoped it was you, finally making use of the tower for your own office to write or perhaps your own personal library?” Thor’s instincts on what you might want a private space to be.

You suddenly feel foolish for doubting him for even a second. It makes you cry again, and you bury your face in your hands.

“No, my love, please don’t cry anymore,” he continues to beg. “Look, I’ve brought you a gift.”

He gets up suddenly and moves towards the package he’d been carrying when he came in. It wasn’t large. About the size of a shoebox.

“I thought of you when I was passing over Paris on my way home. You can eat them all at once or slowly, whichever you prefer,” He flips open the leather satchel and from inside pulls a thick and shiny rust colored box with a satin brown ribbon that delicately holds it closed.

It looks expensive and he doesn’t wait for you to take it since you’re too busy wiping at your cheeks and sniffling to grab it. He pushes the ribbon off of the box then removes the lid and places it underneath while tossing the ribbon onto your vanity.

“I’m not sure what each of them is, but you don’t have to eat the ones you don’t like. I’ll eat them for you,” he pushes fancy gold tissue paper aside to expose the contents within.

Inside the box is a tray of twenty-four chocolate pieces. Some of them have designs painted on them with what is more likely more chocolate in bright colors and patterns. Other pieces look to be decorated in plain chocolate with small embossed hearts, triangles, or teeny tiny bows.

The box is too thick for this to be all there is, so you’re pretty sure there are two trays of chocolates.

“Do you like them?” Thor checks, his voice light and rising at the end gently almost as if he’s talking to a small child which maybe should offend you?

But it doesn’t because you know that’s not what he means by the tone he’s using. He’s being as gentle with you as he can in your moment of sad anxiety and you love him so much for it.

“They’re so pretty…” you hiccup, wishing you weren’t so emotional and crying all over his lovely gift.

“That’s not all,” he tells you, putting the chocolates on your vanity to free up his hands to reach into his satchel again.

You quickly cover the chocolates, pushing the ribbon around the sleek container before they can be ruined.

Thor tosses the satchel onto the chaise with a flick of his wrist but draws your attention to him when he places another box on your lap. This one is much smaller, but wide and square.

“Happy two months of marriage, cherub,” Thor says softly, then carefully lifts the lid of his second gift.

Nestled within lush purple velvet is a beautiful platinum chain, thin, short so that the gorgeous lotus flower with your birthstone gem settled at its very center will sit just below your collarbone.

“It’s so beautiful, Thor.”

All of a sudden you’re crying again.

Thor smiles and rises again, taking the necklace from inside the box which he tosses onto the chaise too before moving around behind you to slip the necklace around your neck.

You reach up to place your fingers on the pretty flower, sniffling and trying not to make your crying too vocal but a sob or two slips out.

Thor moves back around you and takes a long look at your mess of a face before he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, “Come here, love.”

He waits for you to stand then takes your spot on your seat but then leads you down onto his lap.

Reaching up with his hand, he gives the back of your neck a squeeze while his other hand finds a resting spot on your thigh.

“Is it Jane still upsetting you?” he guesses.

You nod, unwilling to say it aloud.

“Why? What exactly is it that’s troubling you?”

He genuinely doesn’t seem to understand. While he might understand your nerves about her, the reason you’re still crying is lost on him.

You don’t want to say, but Thor bounces you a little in his lap, taking his hand to caress the side of your face and hold your gaze.

“Nothing you can say will make me love you any less.” A promise.

“When I saw you two this morning, you just looked so h-happy,” your lip quivers. “You looked happy. Pleased. You were smiling that one smile that’s only supposed to be mine.”

For some reason Thor’s chest puffs up a little, a proud fix to his chin as he reaches up to grab yours and give your head a little shake.

“It is all yours, cherub. I am completely yours. I was so happy when I was with Jane this morning because I felt nothing of what I’d once felt for her. I had no stuttering in my heart, no butterflies in my belly. I wasn’t taken by her eyes or tempted by her lips.”

“Alright, I get the picture,” you grumble, hating everything he’s describing even though you know he’s telling you that he wasn’t feeling any of it.

He chuckles, bringing his hand down to rest on your hip.

“I was happy because Jane is no longer the source of all of that for me. You are. All meeting her so unexpectedly proved is that I am more in love with you than I ever thought I could be. You were my arranged match. The most I had ever expected was friendship. And when that turned into more, I wondered if it could really be more than what I ever felt for Jane and it is.

“Jane was always a dear love but you are family. It’s only been a short time since we married but you are more my love than Jane ever was. You’re my cherub!”

He doesn’t wait for you to recover from his little speech. He hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

It quickly changes and shifts and the lonely night you’d spent tense and worried, missing him, explodes you onto him. You’re both a frenzy of movement, Thor ripping away at his armor until he’s in the plain dark undershirt and a very small pair of black briefs.

You’re about to push him onto your bed when he suddenly grabs you and tosses you around his massive body and onto the bed to bounce as you land with a gasp.

He shoves his briefs down, still kicking them away as he steps towards you and gathers the long skirts of your dress higher and higher around your hips.

“Thor…” you whisper, a gasp of anticipation which drives him a little wild as he yanks you closer to the edge of the bed and thrusts into you with a shaky groan.

He goes still for a moment, hooking his hands around your thighs more securely. He bottoms out, sheathing his cock within you until you reach down to scratch at the bottom of his shirt then his hands as you fall back against the bed.

“Please,” you plead and he quickly obliges.

He pumps into you, filling you to the brim with no intention of ever stopping.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Thor eventually come out of your room. You dressed in your carefully chosen dress and Thor a little less regal in a pair of crisp dark jeans, and layered up in a green sweater over a blue button up collar shirt over a plain white t-shirt.

Honestly though, even in his slightly more casual ensemble, Thor screams royalty. He’s so beautiful.

Both of you giggling like giddy kids, he pulls you closer and loops your arm through his.

It makes you happy that he likes you close by. He proves it now as he leans down to whisper so that only you can hear him as the palace staff moves about cleaning and fixing up the rooms that have been used throughout the day.

“I’m a little glad you’ve decided not to use the tower for a workspace.” Thor confesses.

“How come?” you wonder, turning your face to look at him, genuinely curious as to the change of mind. He’d been so insistent before about you having your own personal space to work in peace where no one could bother you and you didn’t have to give up writing your stories even if you were now Queen of New Asgard.

“I don’t know if I could stand having you that far away from me. Our night apart has only driven that home for me. I want you always at my side.”

His sentiment is sweet and you stop to turn and face him, reaching up to place your hands on his bearded cheeks to smoosh them because he’s so damn adorable. He’s massive so you have to push yourself up, lifting your heels a little to do so comfortably.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly lovable that makes you?” you ask.

He smiles despite you morphing his face, beaming down at you with a look that must mean he loves you. Everything he says has to be true. The more you think about it, the more you realize that your jealousy, while founded, doesn’t make any sense now that you’re married.

Not after everything the two of you have shared and been through. Not after all the time you’ve spent building this foundation with him. 

“Quite a lot more than I was before?” he guesses. “Only, maybe not when I go to the bathroom?”

Through your smile you tilt your head to the side a little, confused by his amendment to his desires.

“Why?” What difference does it make?

He drops his voice to a whisper and leans down a little closer to you, “Sometimes I have smelly poops.”

You’re not expecting that and throw your head back as a loud unfiltered laugh rips through you. The movement pulls you down flat onto your feet but Thor catches you with one arm around your waist to pull you back up onto your toes and against his hard body.

He’s laughing too as he dips down and kisses your laughing mouth, silencing you a little so that it’s only air slipping through your lips as you kiss him back.

It’s just a long held peck. He’s relishing in the feel of your lips against his as your body shakes with more laughter.

Still laughing with you, Thor pulls back and gripes, “Stop laughing and kiss me!”

You drop your head against his chest as you keep laughing, unable to help it because the cuteness of him being self-conscious about his smelly poops is too much for you to handle.

Especially considering that you’ve both already been in the bathroom together when the other is using the toilet.

He loosens his arm around your waist so that you fall down a little further but keeps his hand resting on the small of your back while the other hand he places on the back of your head, caressing it as you chuckle weakly from laughing so much.

The sound of a clearing throat brings both your heads turning to the end of the hallway.

Your visiting trio stand there, Tony smirking, Bruce smiling shyly, Jane averts her eyes.

“Uh, get a room?” Tony suggests, but you can tell from his tone that he’s only teasing.

“Where do you think we’ve been all morning?” Thor grins, readjusting with you to hook your arm on his elbow before leading you towards your guests.

“So that’s what those screams were,” Tony counters.

Thor wiggles his eyebrows at them but your neck burns and your mouth pops open in surprise and embarrassment.

You start to fret, hands fluttering up towards your new necklace as you look from Tony to Jane, who’s looking at her shoes, to Bruce who is smiling with his own laughter in his eyes.

“Was I-? I didn’t mean to-! Thor, I didn’t know that I was being-” your panic is real and your heart is thrumming a million miles an hour.

“He’s teasing you, cherub, don’t worry,” Thor assures you, dropping your arm from his elbow to wrap his own arm around your waist to pull you into his side again.

You turn to Tony and he’s laughing a little. Not maliciously, just purely entertained by your reaction.

“I-a joke?” you ask him, still uncertain.

“Sorry,” Tony says, nodding. “Just a joke.”

You swallow hard, trying to settle your heartbeat.

Thor kisses your head and like a switch is flipped, all of them shift into work mode.

“Have you started installing the security system?” Thor asks Tony and all together the five of you move down into the lowest level of the palace which actually happens to be a dungeon?

You’re not really listening to their conversation as you move with them, still flustered about you possibly letting all of your sex noises reverberate through the halls of the palace for everyone to hear, but when you reach a large vault-like door, you start to focus again.

As the heavy door slides open like part of some futuristic spaceship, you’re thrown into a large room about the size of the throne room where you’d had your wedding reception only it looks nothing like the rest of the palace.

This place looks more like the Avengers compound. High-tech stations line the walls, large monitors with readings you don’t understand and camera footage from places you recognize from around New Asgard and the palace itself.

There’s a full crew working all of the stations, Asgardians and humans, all of them wearing the same charcoal gray uniforms, splashes of gold and red like Thor’s cape on their shoulders and chests.

As you and Thor enter, they stop what they’re doing to stand at attention, bowing to both of you as Thor leads you to the center of the room where a large stone table is set with schematics of plans that you don’t understand.

Tony moves over to them and starts to sift through the many scrolls all laid out for viewing while Thor nods to the crew.

“At ease, my friends.”

He’s so nice. The crew fall back into their respective jobs.

One of them moves towards a large screen against the wall, a TV you realize, playing different news footage from all over the world.

He flips to another channel and you pull away from Thor to walk and stand beside the crewman who stands taller once you’re beside him.

He turns to you and gives you a quick bow, “Your Majesty.”

Turning to him, you smile and then look back at the screen, “To monitor any weird things happening around Earth?”

“Yes, m’am,” he asserts then flips the channel again.

This time it’s a documentary style report, you see a familiar scene. New York in shambles as Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, the Hulk, Captain America, and your Thor fight off the invading Chitauri.

Slowly another body settles beside you, its warmth drawing your attention to it.

“I still remember that day, sort of,” Bruce says gently, his voice always so easy and calm.

It’s hard to believe he can turn into the giant Hulk in seconds.

“Was it scary?”

“Sort of. I think for me, I was just worried that Hulk would hurt someone other than the aliens. But by then I think he understood what side we were on.” Bruce nods.

“But, aren’t you the Hulk?” His words confuse you a little.

“Well, yeah, but also no. He’s like another half of me? If that makes sense? I haven’t worked out how to combine both sides yet. I’m there, I’m just...it’s like someone takes who you are and reduces you to your most basic instincts.

“We’re almost like two different people but we’re also the same person. I’m working on understanding our connection better. Underneath the Hulk, I’m still me. I’m still there I think. I’m just trapped for some reason.”

The two of you watch the screen in silence for a moment then Thor shows up, blasting the Chitauri with his lightning. He looks a little different because he has both eyes and his hair!

“Thor had long hair,” you realize, gushing a little.

“Did I look better with long hair?” his deep voice slips into your right ear and you jump not having been expecting it.

“Not better,” you promise him, smiling at him before turning your eyes back on the TV. “Just different. It suits you.”

“Should I grow it back?”

With excitement, you turn to face him and he chuckles at whatever look you have in your eyes, “Would you? Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“If it will make you look at me the way you’ve been staring at me on that television, I will go out and buy a wig.”

You laugh and Thor leans down to give you a quick peck.

“It’s that time of year I guess,” Tony says, sliding over to stand on Bruce’s other side where Jane is already standing having moved over at some point.

She still hasn’t said anything.

“What time of year?” You wonder.

“Oh, in Spring they always start to play footage on some of the news channels about Loki’s party days in New York. Some type of anniversary celebration or something? Only it’s more like a wake.”

“It’s a memorium,” you realize, then look at Thor who seems to sense your upset.

He wraps his arm around you and settles in beside you, kissing the top of your head again.

“Where is Loki?” you ask him, frowning with worry and wondering if it must upset him to have one of his biggest mistakes thrown in his face for weeks.

“He’s tending to business with the guard. He’ll come find us when he’s finished,” Thor promises.

After a tense moment, Tony claps his hands and then pats Bruce’s shoulder, “Shall we? Pepper wants me home by Friday so that we can explore the wonderful art of tantric massage.”

As Bruce turns to follow Tony back to the center table where a new console computer has come from a panel at the center you hadn’t noticed, he gives him a skeptical look.

“Pepper? Are you sure it isn’t you pushing the tantric massage?” Bruce sounds like he already knows the answer.

Tony shrugs, “I’m not the bossy anymore.”

You look back at the TV, your worry only spiking at the thought of Loki coming down here and finding all of you watching.

“Change it to something else,” you tell the crewman. “Make sure no one puts it on that channel again.”

“Yes, m’am,” he bows his head in obedience and quickly changes the channel while moving to a small box hooked up to it where a small screen comes out and he quickly goes about pressing buttons hopefully blocking any and all sources of that footage so that Loki doesn’t accidentally have his face shoved into his past.

“Don’t worry, my cherub. Loki is well aware of what the Earth grieves at this time of year. He won’t be blindsided by it.”

“I still don’t like it,” you insist, unable to shake the frown from your face.

“Thor?” Jane’s voice interrupts you both softly.

He looks at her and you give her a glance before turning to look at the news reports on the TV.

“I’m gonna need one of these mainframes for the telescope. Which one can I take?”

“Right,” Thor nods, “Of course. Let’s find you a place to work.”

Before he leaves you he leans in and kisses the side of your head again, squeezing your hip before he moves with Jane away towards the many workstations in the very large room.

After getting everything sorted out this morning, your heart doesn’t even sway towards jealousy and even though you’re worried about Loki, you breathe a sigh of relief that your realization about Thor’s loyalty has really engrained itself into you.

He loves you and nothing will change that. Even as they laugh somewhere behind you, your confidence doesn’t waver.

You reach up and touch the lotus on your necklace, a shining reminder of Thor missing you on his very first night away from you since your wedding.

You’re sure now that no one will ever come between you and Thor.

No one.

#a wife for thor #king!thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #thor x reader #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction

[svnflowervol666]

Hey I love your work and Idk if your taking requests but if you are could you do a oneshot where Harry and y/n have planned to have the perfect birth plan but then coronavirus happens and they have to have the baby in their own home. Stay safe - anon ❤️❤️

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Didn’t mean for this one to be so long and I most definitely hate the end, but here she is! Take care and TPWK.

Harry’s eyes lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning when he felt his girlfriend’s phone vibrating against the cool, granite countertop where they were currently eating breakfast in their vacation home in California. What started out as a last-minute getaway to soak up the remaining time they had before they would welcome their first little bub into the world turned into a rather long stint, as a pandemic had quickly swept the world off its feet and ceased all travel. They were stuck, everyone was stuck, and Y/N was eight months pregnant. 

The phone call they’d been waiting on, the one happening right now that was causing Harry to nervously bounce his foot against the metal support beam on his chair, would determine whether or not it was safe for the two of them to return to London so Y/N could give birth alongside Harry and her regular doctor. They’d been stuck inside for so long that they’ve had time to talk about literally everything -- about reupholstering the chairs in the living room, about their childhood friends and secrets they kept for them, about if pineapple belonged on pizza and if chips and salsa is considered a meal. Harry and Y/N talked about a lot, but what they hadn’t discussed, was the possibility of giving birth to their son thousands of miles away from their families and the doctors they were most comfortable with. It was always understood between both of them that in spite of the state of the world, things would always work out for them; they’d get approved for travel and be home in England before her due date. They’d have the most perfect baby boy in the most perfect way imaginable. 

They were right, but only about the first part.

He watched her fumble with the gemstone ring that adorned her middle finger as she answered the phone call with her other hand. The stone matched the birth-month of their unborn son. Harry had gotten it for her that Christmas and she hadn’t taken it off since. She anxiously chewed on the skin of her bottom lip, still quite swollen from sleep. Harry’s heartbeat sounded like it was hurling towards his eardrums at a rapid pace, soon becoming all he could make sense of due to how important this phone call was.

Y/N wouldn’t have to repeat to Harry what the doctor told her on the phone, because the look on her face said everything he needed to know.

“It’s just not safe for anyone, especially pregnant women, to travel right now. You’re not facing any special circumstances that would warrant the need to leave the country, so we’re asking that you meet with one of our partnering hospitals to find a doctor in LA that can prepare you to give birth.”

“Yeah, I understand.” she was able to get out as a wave of salty tears spilled onto her cheeks.

She reached for Harry’s hand that laid protectively over her swollen stomach, squeezing her sweaty palm against his own as their fears were confirmed; they had to have the baby here and not in London with their family.

“Thank you so much. I’ll, uhm, give you a call back when I’m ready to schedule our next appointment...Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Y/N paid no mind to her surroundings after that, quick to wiggle herself off of the barstool and abandon the almond milk yogurt and her cell phone as she made a beeline for the bedroom her and Harry shared.

“Baby, wha-”

“Just need a minute,” her blubbers were hardly decipherable as she carried herself down the hall, but Harry was quick to follow.

“Nope,” Harry interjected, walking through the doorway just as she had collapsed into the plush mattress with her head in her hands.

“Yeh don’t get t’ do this by yourself.”

He hushed and cooed her as he climbed towards her from the foot of the bed, not leaving an inch of space between them when he laid down beside her. Not a second was wasted when he got his hands on her, pressing kisses to her forehead and thumbing away each tear that cascaded down her cheek. She was already a sensitive one -- add pregnancy into the mix and a couple of meltdowns like this were bound to happen.

“Come back t’ me, lovie. Please,” Harry pleaded, his voice soft and tender against the heart-wrenching sounds of her cries.

“I just - I can’t do this. Not here,” Y/N hiccupped. 

“Sure you can,” Harry quipped through his own frets about becoming a father in a country he didn’t particularly consider to be home.

“We’ll have mum ship all of his stuff over here. We’ll make sure we’ve got everything we need. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know any of those doctors at the hospital. We don’t even know our neighbors here for Christ’s sake,” her voice was hoarse and strained.

Her words struck Harry as hurtful, but true. But he was quite the optimist, and wouldn’t dare let his girl be sad. With everything in his power, he would spend his last breath trying to make her happy and see that smile that he loved so much.

“Honey,” he began, “I know this is not easy. ‘M not gonna pretend like I know how you’re feeling, but I know that, as shit as this situation is, we’ll have our son by the end of it. Tha’s worth goin’ through just about anything, isn’t it?”

Y/N nodded through deep breaths, slowly relaxing into Harry’s touch.

“We could even have him here, if yeh want. Takes the worry about gettin’ sick at the hospital out of th’ way. Yeh can do whatever yeh want, however yeh want. And I’d be right there with yeh the whole time.”

She seemed to ease up significantly at the thought of a home birth, as Harry could tell just by the look on her face that she seemed less upset at the thought of not being able to give birth in London and more so intrigued by what he’d just mentioned.

“Y-You think we could do that?”

“Absolutely,” Harry answered in a whisper, “‘M sure it’s just a few phone calls and we’ll can have it all sorted out.”

“I like that idea,” her voice was muffled as she leaned in to kiss Harry’s wrist that still held on to either side of her face.

“Me too, now tha’ I think about it. He’ll already be safe at home the second he’s out.”

“This isn’t home,” Y/N pouted as she wormed her way out of Harry’s grasp and settled herself on top of his chest, baby bump pressing impossibly close into Harry’s torso.

Harry sighed as he welcomed his girl into his embrace, using the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her shoulder to cradle her stomach.

“’S more of a home than it isn’t a home. We’ve got memories here,” Harry reminded her.

“We’ve done birthdays and anniversaries here. Couple of New Years Eve parties I think... Shagged in every room too if I’m not mistaken.”

That earned a laugh from Y/N, her taught belly jiggling slightly against Harry’s.

“Even the attic,” she exhaled.

“Even the attic. Couldn’t help it though. Yeh ass looked way too good in those shorts when we were moving the furnit-”

“I get it. Don’t need to be reminded of how I used to look before this happened,” she said, gesturing to her bump.

“Erm, your ass still looks plenty sexy if that's what you’re sayin’,” Harry almost looked offended.

“In fact, I’d say yeh look even sexier now than yeh did back then.”

“Yeah, it’s cos you’re a narcissist and me being pregnant with your son is feeding your ego.”

Harry’s childish laugh was like the cooling balm that soothed the blistering phone call she’d received not twenty minutes prior, melting away any sadness or despair she held in her heart. 

A peaceful quietness took over them, neither of them feeling like there was much to be said. Maybe they wouldn’t be having the most ideal experience into first-time parenthood, but they were together and they had each other, stupid jokes and annoying habits included. And that’s all they needed.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #dad!harry x pregnant!reader #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #harry styles x pregnant!reader #asks

[morgansunflower]

I Miss You 3/3

Jason Todd X Reader

Batfam x Batsis! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, showering together

Words:1548

All the fears and worries can melt in one day

Hours after Dami and I looked at the open house, I step out of my doctor's appointment. My little brother Damian in the car waiting for me. I step out of the building and walk to my car. I come to a halting stop seeing a different Wayne.

"B-Bruce" I stammer, shit! I look for, Damian "w-where is Dami?"

"he's home" he answered bluntly

What do I say? Pretty sure he as figured out I'm pregnant "I looked at a open house today.. I love you guys but I think it's--" I stammer as I force the tears back. I don't want to cry.

"we will discuss this further over dinner" he directly said

"I don't want to go home right now" I admitted, I don't want to face the rest of my family right now

"I have something else in mind" he answered

My words stuck in my throat. I was expecting anger but he was calm, though nervous maybe? He steps to the passenger door of the car and opens it. I step into the car, sitting on the passenger seat. Bruce, shuts the door. I take a shaky breath. I really hope I don't start crying. I just am hoping for his approval. The car drive was quiet. We sat in a room with only a few tables. It was just the two of us, Bruce likely not wanting any reporters in a personal family business. I sat on the chair in front of the round table. Bruce sitting next to me.

"is Jay aware of this?" he asked with a stern tone

I roll my eyes irritated with my love "no, I haven't been able to get ahold of him.. I am really sorry that I didn't tell you. No offense but you're kinda hard to read dad" I sigh deeply with a tear falling. So scared of rejection. I dry my tears looking straight at the ground. I don't want to disappoint him.

"Y/N" Bruce said softly I lift my head to face my adopted dad "I'd advise you, to not think I am ashamed of you for any absurd reason. I intend on not allowing you to leave. You are in a delicate state. When we return I'd advise you to sleep" he firmly said seeing that I am lacking sleep no thanks to Jason "I'll see what information I can find on, Jay" he assured

I began to cry of joy. I reach to Bruce and hug him. He carefully wraps his arms around me.

"thank you! Thank you! Thank you, dad!"

"before I forget you are to not leave the Manor without someone to accompany you"

I chuckled with falling tears, he's so protective. Hour's later in the family room at Wayne Manor. I stood in front of my family as my siblings sat on the couches and Alfred stood beside the left couch. Cassandra, softly smiles to me. She didn't have to use words, I knew. She was telling me not to worry. I cleared my throat. Every eye on me. I take a shaky breath. Damn I hope I don't cry. I'm just glad my sister's and Damian aren't rating me out.

"there's something I need to tell you all. I don't know.. If you will be.." I take a shaky breath unable to form any other words, just say it! "I'm pregnant" I blurted out

Alfred's eyes instantly swell and shake. Dammit if he crys I'm gonna cry. Tim, softly chuckled in response. Did he know? Steph probably couldn't keep her mouth shut. I look at my oldest brother with a heavy heart.

"is that why Jay isn't in, Gotham? That asshole!" Dick appalled with a enraged look on his face

Tim, face planted knowing this will not end well. Barbara scolded her boyfriend by hitting his head. Thank you Babs.

"you fool" Damian muttered

Offended I abruptly kick Grayson's shin "OUCH!!" he yelled bending his knee upward in pain

"you jerk! He doesn't even know I'm pregnant, and you're lucky you even know, asshole!" I exclaimed with a broken voice on the verge of tears

I step to leave

"congratulations Ms Y/N. I am delighted to hear the beautiful news" Alfred softly said

My heart melts. I softly smile to him and step out of the room through the hallway to the staircase. I go to my room taking Bruce's advice. That evening after a, small nap I hear my door knocking.

"who is it?" I asked

"your favorite brother!" Grayson said

"you kinda lost that title" I said irritated

"c'mon Y/N I'm sorry... Would you please open the door so I can make things right with you" he begged

"I don't know.. I'm still pretty angry about what you said about, Jason" I said annoyed

"I have a present for your baby" he said in bribing tone

I open the door seeing Grayson holding a small stuffed toy elephant. I lightly shake my head. I hold it and see Tim smiling as he walks up with my favorite bowl of fruits. I feel my hormones getting the best of me. This is probably one of the sweetest things they've done for me.

"Aww you two are gonna make me cry" I said with a brittle voice

"that mean you forgive me?" Dick asked with a hopeful tone and smile

"hmm, fine"

"ha! Told you it'd work!" Grayson exclaimed gratefully

"please" Tim rolled his eyes "just cause she forgave your stupid ass, doesn't mean you are the 'favorite" he smiles to me "I'll be the favorite don't worry Y/N" Tim kindly said

Moments later in my bathroom alone. I strip down to nothing so I can take a shower. I gasp as the door opens I turn seeing, Jason!! Before he could say or do anything I ran and captured him into a passionate kiss. He parts with a smirk. My arms around his neck and his on my face

"well hello to you to sexy" he smirks realizing I'm entirely exposed

"dammit, Jason" I lay my forehead on his, my lips tremble as I grip his collar "I was so scared"

His face drops "I know. I'm so fucking sorry. Roy, didn't tell me it was going to be so dangerous" he apologized "my fucking phone couldn't pick up signal" he growled to himself

"it's OK I was, just was so worried about you" I began to cry "I m-missed you so much!"

"I know" he kisses my cheek "I missed you to beautiful"

He holds my arms Jason gazes me up and down my body. TELL HIM!! My breath hitches with my needed word's trapped in my throat as his eyes stop at my swollen abdomen. My muscles tense up and my heart races. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He remains silent. I take a shaky breath.

"J-Jason" I softly said my words stuck in my throat, as I cried. Please don't be mad

"I'm a fucking dumbass for leaving" he said with a brittle voice

I shake my head still unable to form words as I cry. Jason, strips down. We both step into the shower, together. He turns the water on. His hand within inches of bump. Jason, carefully ran his knuckles up and down my bump. Jason, began to stutter

"hey, look at me" I told him, he lifts his head to me his eyes swelling "don't you dare start to blame yourself for anything.." I began sobbing that made him frown, I can't believe he's really home! "the b-baby is going to love you"

He kissed me deeply. I part from his lips. He began to weep my heart sinks. He kisses my cheek. Afterwards Jason and I wearing our pajamas. Both of us in my bed the soft covers laid on our legs. My head resting on his arm. He had his large hand on my bump gently rubbing it with his thumb. I am so sleepy, Jason's soothing touch is nearly too much.

"so besides the obvious. Anything else happen while I was gone" he whispered with a yawn

"well, I hope you don't mind I told Dami he could come have quality time with the baby, whenever he wants to"

"fine by me love" he softly smiled

"oh! I almost forgot I went to a open house. I want you to look tomorrow" I said running my fingers through his hair

He chuckled softly warming my heart "wouldn't happen to be the disease infected and haunted house"

"how did you..." I was surprised 

"my damn phone blew up when I finally got signal. Damian was hellbent on telling me that any house you told me about was horrifically unsafe and a bunch of shit, that I needed to come home right away" he rolls his eyes at himself "but before you have another reason to kill my stupid ass. I didn't call or text you because I wanted to surprise you" he fondly looks at my bump "but I guess you surprised me"

I smile softly placing my hand above his own "believe me it was a surprise to me to" then for the first time, I feel a gentle kick from our child

#batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam #Jason Todd X Reader #Jason Todd #Pregnancy #Unplanned pregnancy #Sweet Bruce Wayne #Good dad Bruce Wayne #Fluff #Comfort #Humor #Batsis! Reader #Batsis! #Batfamily

[alltooreid]

congrats on 100<33

✏️ - idk if this is a good enough concept but something along the lines of reader being scared of something (can be a thunder storm or haunted house or anything u want lol) and spencer comforts reader

(reader can be fem. (she/her) or gn (they/them), it doesn’t matter to me)

i hope this made sense, i didn’t wna go to into detail that way u could work freely with it lolll 💓

omg this makes perfect sense and it’s such a cute idea!! I went a little overboard and this got really long because I added a little meet-cute situation but I hope you love it anyway!! Also I changed Y/N’s fear because I had a really good idea and you were so open!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Type: comfort so like angst/fluff idk??

Word Count: 1.4K (oops)

Content Warnings: discussion of blood

When Y/N was five years old they told their mom they wanted to be a doctor. However, when one is five years old they assume being a doctor only entails helping people, being nice to children and giving them lollipops and that seemed like the best career choice ever.

However, when Y/N was six years old they went on a bike ride with their next door neighbor, a girl their age named Rebecca. This particular neighborhood friend loved to play dangerously and had conceived a game like tag, however you had to stay on the bike the entire time. Although innocent on paper, about 12 minutes into the game Rebecca had stood up on the seat of her bicycle in an attempt to get a better reach at Y/N and tumbled over the front handlebars.

She shook it off quickly and by the time Y/N had rushed over to help she was already on her feet.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked in a panic.

Rebecca brushed some rocks off her shorts, looked up at Y/N and smiled, “Yep! That was so much fun!” she said, going in for a high five.

Rebecca however, was not okay and had failed to notice that two of the “rocks” she had brushed off were actually her two front teeth. When she smiled and spoke to Y/N they were overcome with panic when they saw her mouth, missing two teeth and gushing blood.

So naturally, they immediately passed out.

Rebecca quickly ran to get her mother, more concerned for Y/N than herself, and still hadn’t even noticed her teeth’s absence. Both children were driven to the hospital, and although Y/N woke up on the way, they got checked out to make sure they didn’t have a concussion.

Soon after they were clear Y/N’s parents arrived. Hovering over their six year old and asking all sorts of questions, the first and only thing Y/N thought to do is turn to their mother. “Mom?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“I don’t think I wanna be a doctor anymore.”

Y/N’s mother laughed and wrapped her arms around the crying child, “Maybe that’s not the best idea.”

Even with their fear of blood, Y/N career ambitions remained the same: help people, be nice to children, hand out lollipops. So when they graduated Y/N started their own candy store. It was the perfect job for such a sweet soul, and by the time they were 28 Y/N had perfected their storefront. Glass displays were replaced with plastic to prevent people cutting themselves if they broke, they keep a small collection of different patterned and themed band-aids right next to the cash register and without fail had at least one medical student working in the summer in between school years (in case of emergencies).

But no amount of prepping could help Y/N when Dr. Spencer Reid came into their store with his four year old godson.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched Spencer and Henry zoom around the empty store, Henry throwing all kinds of sugary sweets into his basket and Spencer encouraging the entire thing. Soon enough the two were at the register and dumping at least eighty dollars worth of candy on the counter. Y/N began ringing it up, but was soon interrupted by the small child, barely in sight because of the desk in front of him.

“Excuse me? Do you have a band-aid? I got a paper cut.”

“Yes I do! What kind of band-aid do you want?”

“Ummmm do you have Spiderman?”

“Of course I have Spiderman! Here you go,” they said, setting it on the counter.

“Can you put it on for me?” He reached up his little finger to show Y/N his cut.

Quickly jolting their head, Y/N panicked “Um maybe you could have your dad help you with that. . .”

“Of course, I’m sorry, and I’m actually his godfather. . . “ He looked up and noticed Y/N’s aversion to the cut, “It’s safe to look now.”

Y/N sighed, “I’m sorry, I just can’t stand blood. What did he cut it on?”

Henry was entertaining himself flipping through the pages of his godfather’s abnormally large book, not reading it of course, because although Henry was smart for a four year old, he was not yet fluent in Russian.

“Oh nothing that’s your fault,” the man said. He was then nudged by his godson, and apparently, personal wingman, “Um, I’m Spencer!”

“Hi Spencer! I’m Y/N,” they smiled, finishing their calculations, “Um, your total is $81.92”

He was thrown off, “That’s not right, it should be 96.37. . . Did you forget something?”

“Actually your forgetting my 15% injury discount, and the extra lollipop I give to nice kids,” they reached down to hand Henry a raspberry lemonade lollipop.

“You really don’t have to do that! It was my fault really-”

“No seriously, trust me I’m kind of ripping you off here. I combined the injury discount and the cute guy discount.”

Spencer blushed, “Um well maybe we could go get coffee sometime to make it up to me.”

“I would love that”

On this coffee date Y/N learned about Spencer’s job and was shocked he would go on a date with someone who was scared of papercuts. However Spencer explained he found it admirable that someone could be so affected by other people’s pain, and later into their relationship discussed how he wished he was as affected by the gore of his job as he was during the beginning.

Their romance worked perfectly, Spencer loved having someone waiting at home for him, a person who could be completely separate from work and the cases that affected him so much that he needed to talk about them typically ended up involving more manipulation than gore.

But just over a year in Y/N got a phone call from Aaron Hotchner.

Spencer had been shot in the neck.

They got to the hospital as soon as possible, and rushed to Spencer’s room, completely forgetting about the things they were almost certainly going to see.

So when Y/N walked in at the worst possible moment, as Spencer was getting his gauze changed and his open wound was in full view, they freaked out, letting out a quick scream and crouching to the ground, covering their eyes with their hands.

“Y/N! You’re here!”

Y/N did their best and eventually had made their way to Spencer’s bedside chairs, only having to peek twice. Once there, Y/N’s hands remained firmly locked over their eyes, both to protect themselves from the blood and to cover their panicked tears from Spencer.

“Y/N, close your eyes tight and remove your hands for me darling.”

They shook their head aggressively. Spencer sighed, “Trust me, I’ve got you.” So they did, and as they kept their eyes glued shut, Y/N felt Spencer use his thumb to wipe tears from their cheeks, before tying something around their eyes.

“See, now you can’t see the blood, and I can hold you,” he said, grabbing one of Y/N’s hands and kissing the back of it now that gauze had been tied around their eyes.

Quickly Y/N wrapped their arms around Spencer’s middle as best as they could with him laying down, and cried into him. Spencer soothed them by petting their hair, “It’s okay darling, they just changed the gauze so it’s gone now, there’s no more blood if you feel ready to take it off.”

Y/N sobbed more and ripped their makeshift blind fold off, “I’m so stupid. . . You got shot and you have to comfort me because of a little blood . . .”

“No, no, no. Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are not stupid. You’re scared and overwhelmed. I already knew I was okay but you didn’t when you came in there, not only that but as soon as you came into this extremely stressful situation you were greeted with your worst fear. You’re all I’m worried about right now.”

Y/N smiled “I’m so happy you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well luckily you don’t have to worry about it.”

-Thank you for reading!! please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

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