#maternity wards near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 15 days ago

Text

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Medical procedures, crazy sexual tension, lots of cussing, light angst, tons of humor, workplace relationship, the hospital is lowkey slutty lol. Reader 26, Dr. Gojo 34, small age gap- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 7.5k

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

♡ Comment to get added to the tag list ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part One =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

♡ Part Two ♡

“Doctor, you should call it. The time of death.” Comes Miwa’s voice, soft and sweet, as you’re pumping your hands tirelessly over this woman’s chest.

The woman had a damn baby right in the hospital nursery, having had a placental abruption, they had gotten the baby out in time on the maternity ward, but then she lost too much blood, and they’d brought her here. You've pumped countless times, your elbows are locked, your arms are aching, there are tears sticking to your cheeks that you don’t know where they came from.

You’re counting, one, two, three… to thirty, then scowl up at the nurse assistant now. “She’s not dead yet, now do the breaths!”

The assistant squeezes the blue bottle, frowning at you in concern. “It’s been three minutes, the patient is likely gone.”

“Don’t tell me to just give up on her. I won’t. Charge em up.” You turn and say to Miwa now, and she sighs. “I said…” You’re pumping so hard you feel her ribcage just barely crack, but you can’t stop, she’s flat lined and she has a damn baby. “I said charge them. Thirty joules! C’mon, Yula…”

The patient’s name was Yula, her name was Yula.

You keep repeating it to yourself as you work over her, hopelessly staring at the screen, praying to see a blip, to see anything. You’ve already had to call time of death for patients, but something in this got you, in knowing that the baby wouldn’t even know her own mother. In knowing that she got here just in time to save her baby, only to fall unconscious.

You’re nearing four minutes, you realize with a panic, and you notice Miwa has not charged the paddles. “Doctor, you should-”

“Are you telling your doctor what to do?” You demand, breathless, and she pouts then, thin brows drawing together.

“If she says charge them, fucking charge them. Thirty joules, now.” Comes Doctor Gojo’s voice, deep and stern, as he steps into the room, glaring over at Miwa, who now suddenly decides that she will charge the paddles. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t compressing over and over on Yula, exhaustion already setting in.

“Thank you, Dr. Gojo.” You manage, trembling with your effort, and he gently pushes you out of the way, you shake out your numb arms.

“You get the paddles, intern, okay. How long?” He asks.

“Almost four minutes, Gojo, she's crazy!” Miwa says. Your jaw clenches.

“Did I ask you anything?” He demands then, and the room goes silent, Gojo looks right at you, seriously, when you get the paddles and then he moves his hands, as you shock Yula’s chest now.

A blip.

“Please, please…” You whisper, choking up, and then the blip dies off. “She just had two blood transfusions, we need to-”

“Doctor, she’s been at it too long.” Miwa says. “She’s going to have no brain function if we go one more minute.”

“So we give her one more minute!” You shout at her, you never shout, you never break this composure you try to have, but you’re exhausted, weak, thank god Gojo’s pumping over her, his strong arms working faster than even you could.

“Hey, intern, look at me.” You look at Gojo then, at his pretty face as he’s working over her, his white hair falling over his forehead, he nods at the paddles. “Just breathe, yeah? Charge them to forty five.”

“Yes, Sir.” You manage, taking a breath, then you open your eyes, and look at the screen one more time, taking the defibrillator paddles, and shocking her chest, her entire body jolts. The room is dead silent, then you hear it, a heartbeat, a pulse on that machine, a steady beep… beep… beep…

You start sobbing in relief, uncaring what anyone thought at that moment. Doctor Gojo checks for signs of brain activity, rubbing her throat then, feeling her pulse. He grins at you, brightening that room with those glinting white teeth. He gestures for you to come over now, as Yula barely opens her eyes, gasping for breath then, leaning up on her elbows.

“What… where’s my baby?” She whispers, her lips are blue, but she’s talking, cognizant, aware. You feel chills through your body, goosebumps you rub gingerly with sore arms.

The first thing she asks, her baby. She’s gonna be a damn good mom, and she gets to be a mom. You push back thoughts of your own mom, taking a breath to finally speak.

“Your baby is nice and healthy, she’s strong. Like her mom.” You say softly, holding her hand delicately in your own, the nurses are unhooking her from the plugs in the wall, wrapping tubes and wires now, so that they can take her to get checked on Doctor Gojo’s orders.

“Oh thank goodness, oh…” She’s blinking tears now, and she looks to Doctor Gojo, who is smiling softly at her.

“She saved your life.” Gojo says, and you shake your head.

“He did, truly.”

“Well, a little, but mostly her.” He nudges you a bit playfully, and she’s smiling, holding her hands out to both of you.

“Thank you both so, so much. Thank you.” The nurses who all were not listening are quiet now, but you don’t blame them, many of them have done this for years, and you were new.

But something feels so good knowing she is okay, that she will live to see her baby, a fucking rush knowing you saved her, that Doctor Gojo had helped you, despite you going against certain protocol. You look up at him now, and his lips part as he studies you, seriously.

“We will get you to some tests, then you can hold your baby. How’s that sound, Miss Yula?” Satoru says, turning his attention to her, and she nods, grinning so big. She’s pale, she looks weak, but she’s strong and she’s alive.

“Thank you both so much. I can’t wait to meet my baby! Was it a…” Your heart pounds now, realizing she didn’t even see the baby yet.

“It’s a boy. You will see him very soon.” They wheel her away, Miwa is about to leave when Gojo pauses her.

“You will not do that again, I don’t care if she’s new, she is your doctor. Do you understand?” He asks, he’s quiet, so no one hears, and she is blinking back tears now, lip trembling.

“You’re being mean to me.” You try not to scoff, acting like you can’t hear a thing she says, Satoru doesn’t hide his scoff.

“Mean? It’s lives we’re talking about, not personal things.” He says, dropping his voice even quieter, as you work on putting in orders for medicines for Yula, you pretend you don’t hear, but something in you is curious.

“She’s insane.”

Ouch.

“She’s my best intern, and I like insane.” You can’t lie about how elated you are when you hear him. Doctor Gojo might come off as silly, or goofy, but he was the best, and the praise meant so much, even if insane may not be a compliment, from him it seemed like one. “How many times have I pulled a stunt like that?”

“You’re Doctor Gojo.”

“She went through the same schooling, she earned her place here. I am disappointed. I’ll have to assign you elsewhere if you keep on with it, you’ve repeatedly not listened to her. Understood?”

She looks at you, then looks down, nodding. “I get it, fine… but, can I see you later?” Her voice drops another octave, just a breath really.

“I’m busy today, but just know I’m not mad at you, okay? Just you need to trust her judgment, I only brought the best here.” He has his hands on her shoulders gently, she nods, then walks by you.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just seen… a lot of situations where that doesn’t work.” She says, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, I am kind of batshit crazy to keep going so long. I think I really… because of the baby…”

“I understand. I’ll trust you next time.” She whispers, giving you a little hug now, surprising you. “You saved her.”

“Thank you, Miwa.” You give her a little smile as she leaves, and it’s just you and Satoru now, as the heavy hospital door slams shut. Satoru has his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat, leaning against the counter of the hospital room, looking at you. “I know, I know… I was reckless.”

“Completely reckless, and honestly she’s right. You’re insane.” He says, you flush then, looking down.

“Is this going to fuck up my chance to scrub in? I’m so sorry-”

“Why did you go so hard?” He’s suddenly right in front of you, the pounding of adrenaline racing through your body makes you overheated, lightheaded, to the point you feel a little dizzy.

“She just had that baby, Satoru. Fuck… Gojo. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He brushes your hair back, it’s fallen out of its bun. “You want me to fix your hair?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I asked if you wanted me to.” You nod then, turning, and Satoru is taking your hair out of your bun now, gathering it gently. “So you wanted to try insane shit because she had a baby?”

“Yes. Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“You just gave four hundred compressions, you should be a mess. Now, is it just because you love babies so much?” He asks, long fingers massaging your scalp, you can’t help but shut your eyes. It feels so good.

“I do love babies, but no. My mother died having me, from the same thing, placental abruption. I was in the NICU for a long, long time. My dad had to care for me alone, poor guy had no clue what to do. I snapped, honestly, it wasn’t professional in any way, Gojo.”

He’s quiet, as he fixes your hair back up, now his big, sure hands are massaging your sore arms, you exhale, tilting your neck side to side. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I never knew her. All I have are stories, I never even got held in her arms, just like Yula’s baby would have been.” Your voice is hoarse, your body is tired, you feel his gentle touch and crave more of it.

“You call your patients their names, not ‘patient’.”

“Yes. They have names, we should use them. Don’t you?”

“I do. But… you know that you are letting your emotions guide you, rather than your brain.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“I like that.”

“What now!?” You turn to look at him in shock, and he’s very serious, more serious than you’re used to seeing him. Even in surgery, his confidence carried over, and he could crack jokes as you would watch him through the glass. You were always amazed by that, the confidence, the skill, the ability to laugh even.

“I like that you said fuck protocol and tried your best to save someone, shit that’s why I’m as good at what I do as I am. I said fuck all these rules. Sometimes saving someone means trusting your gut.” He’s tilting your chin up, and for some insane moment you want to kiss him, is it the adrenaline, is it his praise, is it your heart racing so much you’re stupid?

You eye his plush lips, barely registering his words.

“You like that I’m too emotional? Isn’t that the opposite of what I’m supposed to be as a doctor?” You whisper, and he shakes his head then, leaning close.

“You’re unique, special. I find you intriguing actually, and exactly what I want in an intern. I’ll have to cover for your ass though with Yaga.”

“Ugh, I know.” You sigh now. “You’re about to take over as chief of surgery, aren’t you? I don’t want to fuck anything up.”

“Nah, no worries there, I have been getting away with shit for eight years. I’m the best so they do whatever the fuck I want to keep me.” He smirks, and you smile up at him, enjoying the close proximity far too much. “You owe me.”

“Anything! Oh, nothing pervy.”

His lips quirk up. “How dare you assume.”

“Well, Miwa is probably upset, you may not get a bj.” He snorts then, dropping your chin and rolling his pretty blue eyes.

“She absolutely was in the wrong to question you, and she knows. As for… well we don’t have a relationship, I don’t really date.”

You raise a brow curiously. “You just fuck?”

“Lots of fucking.” You snort, shaking your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You should try it, you’re too stiff, you should loosen up.”

“Bet you- actually, you know what, no. I’m too happy to argue. Maybe I should go relieve some stress, shit.” Gojo laughs again, and you giggle now. “I’m losing my mind at this career.”

“That’s what good doctors do.” He taps your nose.

“Why do you do that?” You ask curiously.

“You’re cute when it scrunches up. Now, I want you to go out to eat with me sometime, that’s all I ask.” You sigh, tilting your head.

“Why, you’re Dr. Hojo, you can have anyone go out to eat with you, and do much more than I would, I’m sure.”

“Maybe I just wanna know what makes you tick, intern. Especially now that I saw you in action like that.” You nervously bite your lip, as you think of just being around him outside of this hospital, what would that even be like?

“Sure, we can go out to eat some time. Are you going to the party tomorrow?” You ask, and he nods.

“I’ll be there to make it fun. Now, you go put in your notes, I’ll go mitigate this with Yaga before it blows up.” He gently rubs your shoulder, walking past you now towards the door.

“Doctor Gojo?” He turns then. “Thank you, so much.”

Satoru smiles at you, nodding his head a bit. “You’re welcome intern, you owe me though, I’ll be annoying you about it.”

“Can’t wait.” You tease, he chuckles as he walks by, you nearly collapse, so overwhelmed, plopping down into the rolling chair and covering your face.

You saved someone. That eclipses it all, this is what you wanted to do, always, to save people, like your mom that day. No, not everyone is going to get saved, but if you can just do your fucking best, you feel good. You look at your watch, only one hour left of this insane day.

The night of the party

You’re rushing to get out of the hospital, to hurry and get to the party Maki, Yuta and Toge have started without you. You brought party clothes with you, so you quickly change into the outfit, a slinky little red dress that glitters even under the icky fluorescent lights above. You run over to the mirror, slathering on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss.

You then dig through your bag, retrieving a brush, running it through your hair and attempting to look human, to look…

“Damn, intern, you look hot.” Gojo’s voice comes behind you, you gasp, jerking and dropping the brush, it clatters to the floor. He smirks at you.

“You scared me, shit!” He bends down, grabbing your brush, and for a moment his breath hits your bare thighs, you tremble as he looks up at your bare legs, taking his time to stand.

“Nice stems.” He says, you roll your eyes, snatching up the brush.

“Oh hush.” You turn, running it through your hair once more, peering at Gojo’s reflection, feeling how small you are compared to him in that mirror. “You bringing Miwa to the party?”

“She’ll be there I’m sure, but I told you, we aren’t dating. One blow job doesn’t make a girlfriend.”

“Only one, hmm? You have more stones to collect.” He chuckles, shaking his head, you turn then, slinging your bag over your shoulder, far too close to him. “God, you always smell good.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” You panic, shoving past him, and he is grinning far too big now, taking off his white lab coat, revealing those strong muscles, veins popping out under the pale skin, and since when are veins attractive!?

Everything about him is.

Be immune to the charm.

“I wanna show you something before you go, can you wait just a second? Or so eager to get to the party?” He asks, going to his locker, sliding off his shirt, your throat goes dry, you look quickly away.

“Just eager to make sure they don’t destroy my house.”

“Are you giving me a tour of your room?”

“No infinity stones to be found here.” He snorts, you look back and see him in his boxers, looking away again.

“All right, I’m decent. You’re cute when you blush.”

“I’m just… overheated.”

“Uh huh.” You look to see him now, as he shuts his locker and he’s wearing a dark blue dress shirt, black slacks and boots, he runs a brush through his hair, you’re entranced as his silky strands slide through so effortlessly. “There, all done, how do I look?”

“You look good, Gojo. You always do though.”

“Sure do.” You can’t help but laugh, he’s ridiculous. He grabs his wallet, shoving it in his pocket, holding out a hand. You look at it. “Come on.”

“Oh, fine. It better be good I’m already running late.” You put your hand in his, and he drags you down several halls, until you’re both in an elevator, still holding hands, you pull yours away, glaring at him. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Gojo.”

“Ouch, you wound me, mean little intern.” He puts a hand on his chest. “I’m so offended, I didn’t say that to you!”

“You fuck whoever, and that’s cool, I get it. You’re hot, and this job is stressful as shit.”

“You think I’m hot, hmm?” He leans close, far too close, you glare at him again, pushing on his chest, ignoring how good his muscles feel under your palms.

“You know you are.”

“Yeah, I do. And of course I wanna fuck you, look at you. But I also just want to… get to know you.” He cups your face, and your eyes shut for just a moment. “I know you’re a goodie goodie.”

“Am not.”

“So you’re freaky?”

“You won’t find out.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope.” He leans closer, and your chin tilts up, lips just a breath from him, so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Then why do you look like you wanna kiss me so bad, intern?” He murmurs, you lean even closer, before the elevator stops, and you step back, struggling to compose yourself, turning away. “Aw, you okay?”

“Fuck you, Dr. Hojo.”

He laughs once more. “Come on, I’ll stop teasing.”

“You’re such an ass.” You huff, stomping out, then pausing when you realize where you are. “The maternity ward?”

He smiles, hand now gently holding your inner arm, you ignore how good his hand feels on your bare skin. “I think you should see something.”

Soon he’s led you to a room, then you see them.

Yula holding her little baby.

“Oh my god.” You smile up at him, he studies you carefully, nodding over to where they’re sitting in the hospital bed.

“Go say hi, you deserve it.” His hand is at the small of your back, as you walk inside the room, Gojo stays at the doorway, watching you. Yula lights up when she sees you, grinning so big.

“You downplayed what you did, everyone is calling you a miracle worker, Doctor.” She says to you, you shake your head, stopping in front of them, looking at the beautiful baby boy, his cherubic little cheeks hollowing as he sucks on a bright blue binkie, then you look back at Yula.

“It was nothing, just my job.”

“No, it wasn’t nothing. If not for you… I…” She blinks back tears now, and you barely hold in your own.

“Don’t upset yourself, please. You have been through a lot, mama.”

“You should hold him!” Yula says.

“Me? I…”

“Here.” She sits up carefully, and you pick up the little boy, Yula smiles at Gojo and waves him in. “His name is Gojo.”

“What?” Gojo blinks a bit himself, coming to stand beside you and looking down at him, Gojo carefully brushes the baby’s cheek, his hands bigger than the little baby almost. You smile up at him, and for a moment, your eyes lock, then you both flush, looking away. “After me?”

“Yes, you were amazing. I’d have named it after you if it was a girl!”

“Oh, goodness. He is handsome, huh Gojo?” You coo to the baby, Gojo’s hand again comes to the small of your back, he is leaning over your shoulder, looking down at the bundle in your arms.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Knowing you did a good thing here.” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod then, smiling back at him.

“Thank you for this, Gojo. And thank you, Yula.”

“Thank you both, you're getting Christmas gifts from me.” You both laugh softly, saying your goodbyes, and when the elevator closes again, you let the little tears fall. Satoru swipes at them, and you sigh.

“Fuck it.” You yank him down by his shirt, kissing his lips, expecting it to feel nice, or good… but instead, it’s electrifying, as if little shocks are radiating throughout your entire body. Satoru exhales, deepening the kiss, pressing you against the wall, hands at your waist, peering back to look down at you, to take a breath.

“Fuck…” He murmurs softly, brushing your cheek with his long fingers, running a thumb over your lower lip. “What did I do to earn something that sweet?”

“You did a lot for me. Thank you.” He kisses your lips again, but now his tongue slips in, and you feel desire pooling in your core, especially when his hands are trailing up your sides, and his tongue is dancing with yours. You pull back, gasping. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t fucking apologize. Please.” He kisses you deeper now, and you lose yourself for that moment, his teeth on your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around his neck as he bends low. Your hands entwine in that silky hair, the hair you have wondered how good would feel under your fingers, his thigh coming between your thighs. “Oh my god…”

“Mmm.” You whine out, pathetic, hips arching up, and you feel him, his hard thigh, those hands overtaking you, tasting him, a hand enwrapping in your hair.

“You’re so hot there…” He murmurs, a hand sliding down your tummy, making it tremble, and you are questioning everything, until the elevator dings, and you both pull away quickly, but Satoru looks completely affected, eyes dilated, his breaths heavy as they come out, mirroring you.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah you should have.”

“No… but thank you. Really.” You touch his shoulder gently. “I will not be an infinity stone.”

“Think you’d be the whole gauntlet.”

“Oh whatever. Forget that, please.”

“No way.”

You both are walking out to your cars then, you’re fucking insane, you kissed Satoru Gojo, your boss! You kissed him. He’s walking you to your car now, opening your door, and you can barely meet his pretty eyes, so embarrassed. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were feeling something, emotions, gratitude… attraction.” He practically says the word like a caress, you feel it physically. “More probably. What’s wrong with feeling things?” He asks then, and you sigh.

“Feeling things for someone who you can’t be with, that sounds like torture.”

“Is it all that?”

“Yes. You should… forget it.”

“I’m not forgetting it. I’ll see you there?” You nod, shy as fuck now, surprised at yourself, touching your lips when you shut the car door, his kiss is lingering on your lips, like some drug you crave.

You gasp when he’s still standing there, grinning at you through your window. You roll it down, scowling. “Go on!”

“You were thinking about it.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“Was not!”

“Mmm, naughty intern-”

You rev up your loud ass car. “Can’t hear you!” He’s grinning far too big when you drive off, heart pounding.

You kissed your boss, and now you’re going to a party with him?

You have lost your mind?

“Bitch, you look so hot.” Maki runs over to you, shoving a questionable red solo cup in your hands, making you wince.

“Bad memories. You look hot too!” You kiss her cheek now, as there are people all over your house, dancing, laughing, most of whom you have no clue who they are. Some loud bass music is blaring, and it’s giving you a bit of a headache, but the energy is good, and you can see your roommates enjoying themselves.

Yuta is taking shots with Toge, you both walk over as Maki takes a sip from her own cup, her eyes sparkling. “Drink it!”

“Oh fine.” You take a sip, feeling the sweet, fruity drink. At first it’s fine, but then you can feel the burn of the alcohol. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, chug it bitch.”

“No!”

“Then take shots, pretty.” Yuta says, and you giggle, shaking your head. “What, you look pretty? Both of you do.”

“Pretty.” Toge says, blush on his cheeks when you kiss one, then Yuta’s.

“Aww thank you all.” Toge runs off then, leaving you confused, staring at Yuta and Maki who are whispering to each other. “What’d I do!?”

“He’s got it bad.” Maki says, seriously.

“What? No.”

“He does, poor guy. No chance.” Yuta says, you sigh.

“You all are silly, he does not. I would know, I live with him. He’s just a little… shy sometimes.”

“Exactly. You’re so evil to men.” You stick your tongue out at Yuta.

“Whatever! Am not.” You sip your drink, it starts tasting less biting as the alcohol warms your tummy.

“You’re mean as shit to Gojo. He’s got puppy dog eyes for you.” Maki says, as Satoru now walks in, Suguru right next to him.

“He has eyes for everyone.” You flush then, remembering the elevator vividly, as Satoru’s eyes catch yours across the room. “He’s my boss. Our boss.”

“The entire hospital is fucking.” Maki says, earning your look at her and Yuta, your eyes narrowing, assessing how close they are. “Not us!”

“Oh, you two so are. Since when!?” They both flush and look away, you cross your arms now, leaning forward. “In my house, terrible children.”

“Fuck off, you’re not our mom.” Maki sticks her tongue out.

“How long!”

“Like two weeks, chill.” Yuta clears his throat.

“I see something… over there.” Is all he says, then he leaves, and you scooch closer to Maki now.

“I tell you something, you tell me.”

You lean close, looking back at Satoru, Miwa is bouncing over to him, but for some reason he keeps looking at you, eyes shouldn’t be so intense you see them across the whole living room and dining room!? You have a pretty big house, but it seems small with this many people, overheating the area.

“Fine, we’ve had sex a lot, but only for a couple weeks, we’re not labeling it anything.”

“Oh…” You struggle to understand how your best friends are… hooking up. It doesn’t surprise you completely, though. “Not dating?”

Maki rolls her green eyes. “It doesn’t always have to be a relationship, you’re so old school.”

“Am not. I just… have a five date rule or so.”

“Bet Doctor Hojo breaks it.”

“Maki!”

“Time for your secret, and a shot.” She pours you both tequila, you shiver as you remember college with Maki, the amount of nights you’d both held each other’s hair as you got sick. “Don’t wuss out, you’re the hero doctor now.”

“Am not at all. Fine, bottoms up.” You both take shots down your throat, biting on your lemons now. “Blegh.”

“Baby.”

“I won’t tell you then!” You hiss, and she yanks you to her.

“You will!”

“Oh fine. I kissed him, there I said it.” You whisper, looking around fervently, as if someone can hear you whisper over booming music, Maki barely hears you, but she sees your gaze darts to Satoru, and his gaze hits you.

“Oh fuck… that’s so messy, you gonna hit it?” You shush her as he starts to walk toward you all, luckily he keeps getting stopped, everyone loves Doctor Gojo and him and Doctor Geto are getting swarmed by nurses and interns.

“No, no… it was a kiss. Maki he was so great to me yesterday, I think I really like him, but I can’t.”

“You can, just gotta be careful babes.”

“No, he’s… Maki he’s a slut.”

“Rude.” Sartoru says then, and you nearly spit out your drink, coughing then, Maki’s grin is huge, she pushes her glasses up, eyeing Gojo then.

“Hey Dr. Hunk.”

“It’s Dr. Hojo.” You glare at her, and Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, lanky limbs overtaking you.

“She’s mean as hell, your bestie.” He says to Maki.

“She is, that's why I love her. Hmm, you should have shots with us!”

“Sounds good-”

“What, no!”

“Why? Scared I’ll out drink you?” He asks.”

“You absolutely could, I suck at drinking.”

“Even better, loosen you up-”

“Shots!” Maki hands you both shot glasses now, and you both down them, Satoru then bites a lemon and it’s far too sexy how he does, you feel your tummy clench just watching him suck one. “Hmm, I see… something over there.”

Maki dips now, leaving you alone with Satoru, and you don’t even know what to say, so nervous next to him. You keep looking at his lips, then down, and he surely notices, as they curl into a smirk. “You gonna give me the tour, pretty?”

“Pretty, thought I was just ‘intern’ to you.”

“You’re pretty, very pretty, little intern.” Satoru bars you against the counter now, and your hips shift side to side. “Aw, excited?”

“Shush. People can see!”

“Everyone’s fucking in this hospital.”

“No kidding.” You pout as you look at Yuta and Maki. “Some right in my own damn house.”

“You’re like an angry mom.”

“Hey!” You shove at him now, and then you see him sip a drink, watch that adam’s apple bob, and fuck…

Gojo’s gorgeous, and you haven’t had any in forever.

Usually you’re good, a nice smut story and a vibrator, but he does something to you, that makes you forget who you are, where you are. You still ease out of his trap now, sighing and shaking your head. “Not here.”

“Oh, not here? Are you planning on seducing me, intern?”

“Psh, you wish. I mean… we can talk somewhere else.”

“Talk, huh. That’s what the twenty somethings call it.”

“You’re so ridiculous, ugh… I mean… talk. Will Miwa get mad?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“You really seem to think a blow job equals dating.”

“Yeah, well she’s already not a fan of me.” You take his hand now, walking him down the hall, where there are indeed people making out, including Miwa. You blink a bit then, and Satoru leans in close.

“Told you. The hospital is slutty.”

“Not me.”

“You’re so different.”

“Fuck off.” You laugh softly though, continuing through the hall, pointing at a room now. “Down there is the basement, where I hide my bodies.”

“Called it, serial killers have those steady hands.” You stick your tongue out, enjoying holding his hand far too much, he seems just as enamored as you, following you through each hall.

“There is Maki’s room, Yuta’s is there, and Toge’s is across from mine.”

“He’s in love with you, you know that yeah?”

“Why do people think that? He’s just a sweetie. And this… well this was my parents room, I just leave it be.” You murmur then, taking another sip of your drink, and Gojo frowns now.

“Can I see it?”

“Um… it’s all covered in sheets since forever, dusty and abandoned unfortunately so… nothing to see.”

“Curious if you look like your mom or dad.”

“Are you?” He nods a bit, and you bite your lip, shaking your head. “I can show you a picture of them, I have one in my room.”

“Dad’s gone too?” He asks, and you sigh, nodding, walking into your room, feeling the intimacy suddenly of such an action. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. My grandparents raised me. They’re good, they just moved out to Florida, retired.”

“You’re alone here?”

“No, I have my friends. Here, this was them.” You show him a little picture then, it’s frayed at the edges, of your mom and dad holding each other at prom. “They were really young here.”

“She was beautiful, you do look like her.” You get misty eyed at that, touching the picture, before shaking your head.

“Fuck you’re supposed to be here for fun, not me crying. What’s with me today?” Satoru turns you to him then, after you put the picture down, and you exhale, desire killing you, it’s like something is pulling you to him.

“Nothing is wrong with feeling things. I didn’t come here for a party, I came here to get to know you.”

“Why do you want to? Maybe I’m boring.”

“I doubt all that. So you tell me, intern, what do you want to do? Talk, look at pictures, give me a blow job?”

“As if!” He laughs then, and you realize it then... “You’re cheering me up, aren’t you Gojo?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You do that. A lot.”

“I’m glad.”

“You also annoy me.” Satoru’s pressing your back against your dresser, and you’re all too aware how hard his body is, how he’s muddling your mind. “What you wanna like… just fuck as friends or something?”

“I didn’t say that. You assume. Maybe I want to kiss you all night.” Your head falls back, Satoru is kissing you again, this time you let yourself go, feeling every bit of him, the kiss is more messy, more desperate than the elevator. Your teeth are nipping at his lower lip, earning a soft moan, as he grips your hips tightly, thumbs pressing into your pelvis.

“Mnh, we shouldn’t…”

“We shouldn’t. But… you’re really ready.”

“Ugh.” You’re a blushing mess now. “It’s been a while and… you’re really hot and…”

He chuckles. “You’re adorable. Let me make you cum, then, hmm?”

“Wh-what now?” You gasp when he’s picking you up, hoisting you on the dresser, spreading your thighs. “Gojo…”

“Satoru.”

“Doctor Hojo.”

He smirks, hands trailing up your thighs, your head falls back just so, hair cascading down your back, sighing at how good it feels. “You’re a brat.”

“You’re the bratty one. What do you mean just… get me off.”

“Stress relief. Why not let me help? I am a doctor.” You blush furiously, and he smiles. “Cute.”

“I’m not your patient…”

“Roleplay.”

“You kinky little- ah!” Satoru slides his hand between your thighs, cupping you where your panties are, and he pauses, mouth open slightly, snowy lashes lowering over dark blue eyes in the dim room.

“You’re that wet from kissing?” He whispers, you shut your eyes, taking his hand, with every intention of pulling it off, but you just keep it there, around his strong wrist, feeling his pulse flutter under your thumb.

“I don’t do this.”

“I’ll just finger you.”

“You gonna get me off with your fingers?” His smirk is now a wicked grin, his fingers slipping under your panties, finding you slick and hot. He exhales.

“I know anatomy extremely well. And no, it doesn’t have to change things, I can still be professional.” He slips a finger inside your pussy now, you’re clenching around him, moaning, covering your mouth then. “Fuck you’re tight.”

“Pro-profes… you!? Not… mmm… fuck it, yes, there!” You’re arching your hips up, he is watching your every move intensely, analyzing you like you’re a medical case for him to solve, every breath you take, every movement of your hips, the way your brows draw together. He’s crooking his finger just so, and you see stars, gushing all around his long finger that’s too fucking deep.

“There’s that spot.” He leans close, sliding two fingers inside now, your pussy greedily sucks it up, your hands clinging to his expensive dress shirt, his lips just an inch away. “It’s not on any anatomy, is it, this spot? But yours is easy to find, pretty, right there.” He hits it again, and you’re getting closer and closer, whining out, pulling him closer.

“Mpfh.” You can’t manage a syllable, it’s too good, the stretch, his nearness, you crave him so bad you can’t think.

“Want me to make you cum?” He asks, sultry voice as much of a caress as his soppy fingers.

You nod eagerly, then he kisses you, pulling your hips down, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting the spot over and over. “Satoru…”

“Fuck that sounds good from your mouth.” He kisses down your neck, before whispering in your ear. “So this is a place on the human anatomy, your clitoris. There it is, it’s a tiny little thing.”

“Fuck!” You’re clinging to him desperate, pathetic, as his other hand reaches down, thumb circling your clit. Your eyes lock then, his pupils are so big there’s just a ring of blue, his eyes almost look black, his cheeks flushed.

“When I use both, it can overstimulate you, can’t it?” You mindlessly nod, tears in your eyes as he’s working you. “Hear how wet you are?”

“Mmm…” You’re done with words, his long fingers are too good, and you can hear how wet you are in your room, the squishing sound as he pumps inside your little walls, and you’re soaking his hands.

“I feel it, there, your pussy is tightening up, your nipples are rock hard, you’re biting that lip. You’re about to cum for me, aren’t you?” He murmurs, studying you still, and then you shatter, earning his moan along with your cries, as you feel your orgasm hit so hard you can’t see, just clinging to his dress shirt wordlessly. “Fuck you’re pretty, look at you.”

“Satoru!” You barely manage to focus, when he’s rubbing your pussy up and down between your lips, you jerk you’re so sensitive, you damn near could come again. “Fuck, fuck…”

“Sensitive?” You weakly nod, and now he is sliding his two fingers inside his mouth, sucking, and your jaw drops, breasts heaving. “You’re so yummy.”

“I am?” You whisper, he nods, and takes his other hand that was on your clit, rubbing your own arousal on your lower lip.

“Taste yourself and see.”

You lick your lower lip tentatively, pussy still pulsing around nothing, then he growls, grabbing you, kissing you over and over. You’re a fucking mess, so weak now, you want to say fuck it, suck him, touch him, do anything to make him feel good, you want him inside you.

Your legs are wrapping around his narrow hips now, hands shaking when you’re unbuttoning his shirt, fuck you’re so ready you can’t even remember anything you said you would or wouldn’t do.

“Want you.” You whisper weakly, he exhales, big hands cupping your face.

“Yeah?” You nod again, and he’s kissing down your throat now, pulling you flush against him, your throbbing cunt right against where you feel him, his hard cock under his pants, you weakly grind, mind fuzzy from him. “You feel so good, shit I thought you didn’t-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Shit…” You hop up now, adjusting yourself, looking in the mirror to see your fucked out, dilated eyes, all glittery, your cheeks flushed, your hair a mess from his hands. “I look like I got fucked, dammit.”

“You didn’t yet, imagine how you’d look when I got done with you.” He’s kissing down your neck now, images flying in your mind, as the door keeps knocking, then you hear Maki’s words.

“Someone passed out! We need you, please!” Maki’s words are like cold water, you and Satoru both rush out without a second thought. “Fuck… I’m sorry-”

“No, what’s wrong?” You and Gojo ask at the same time, she looks between you both for a moment.

“It’s embarrassing…” She admits.

“What is?” You ask, as she leads you to Yuta’s room, confusing you further.

“I may have been riding him and…”

Yuta is passed out, half naked on the bed. “Maki, did you kill him with your pussy!?”

“No! Maybe.”

Satoru chuckles, going up to him then, and peeking at his neck. “Did you all get freaky?”

“No!”

“Maki.” You glare at her, shutting the door now. She flushes, tilting her head back and sighing.

“I choked him, he likes it!”

“I think he’s just zonked from it. He’s responding fine. Hmm…” He says your name then, the man that just had you cumming on his fingers…

Fuck…

“Grab some ice.” You run down stairs, come right back up with a cup of ice, handing it to Satoru confusedly. “Watch and learn, interns.”

Satoru now throws the entire cup of ice on Yuta’s face, and he sputters, waking up and gasping. Satoru’s evilly chuckling, Maki is damn near in tears, and you’re watching with ongoing confusion, alcohol setting in, post bliss orgasm, thrown off that you just found Satoru throwing ice attractive.

“Thank you, shit!” Maki hugs Gojo tightly, as Yuta flushes, looking around at the three of you.

“Maki! I was fine.”

“You scared me!” She’s kissing him then, deeply, and Satoru and you gently walk back, you close their door with a quiet click, sighing and looking up at him.

“What made you think to do that?”

“I’ve had freaky sex.” He teases. “I’m kidding, I just saw the marks from her fingers on his throat, put two and two together.”

“You’re like Sherlock Holmes.” He shrugs then, and his phone starts buzzing, he frowns as he looks at it. “What’s wrong?”

“I gotta head out, nothing big.” He leans close, and you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows under your eyes.

“Then good night, and be safe?” You say, he nods, running a finger over your swollen lower lip then. “Satoru…”

“You still owe me a date, I’m no hussy. Can’t have that and not go out with me.” You feel far too good now, as he’s asking you out.

“But we shouldn’t.”

“And you shouldn’t have been insane yesterday, but it worked. Be a little crazy, just… a date.” You nod then, and he leans his forehead on yours. “Also, your anatomy? Perfect.”

Your pulse thrums in your neck, chest tightening as he says it. “No, certainly not perfect…”

“Mmm, it is, and I would know. An expert on female anatomy.”

“Well thank you, slutty doctor.” He snorts, pecking a kiss on your lips, one that you would never be able to get out of your head.

“I expect a better tour sometime.”

“Keep dreaming. But… lunch, I agreed.”

“Sunday work?”

“Yeah.”

“Text you then.” Satoru leaves then, and leaves you leaning on the hall, suddenly the door opens, and Maki and Yuta peek their heads out.

“A date!?”

“You should be passed out, freaky asses.” You shove them back in their room, running off to yours as they try to bombard you with questions, you lay on your back, staring up at your ceiling, the glow sticker stars from your childhood still decorating the ceiling, you never did take them off.

You like him, you really like him. But you need your career, it’s just beginning, and would this just fuck it all up? Could you keep this shit separated? You can’t do this, you can’t…

Your eyes shut, flitting images of Doctor Gojo enjoying your anatomy filling your mind, keeping you up half the damn night, as you hear it get quieter, assuming the party has died off. You lay on your side, looking out at the window, seeing the moonlight shining through just so.

Your phone goes off, and it’s your stupid ex, earning your scowl, as you delete it, but then a new message pops up.

Doctor Gojo: Let me know if you need anatomy lessons again, intern.

You snort, shaking your head.

You: You wish!

Doctor Gojo: Hmm, still taste you.

You: Oh my god, good night Doctor Hojo!!!

You hate that your heart hammers in your chest as he hearts your message.

You’re so fucked.

Taglist: @lost-resonance @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @miizuzu @nanasukii28 @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @moncher-ire @jkslaugh97 @aldebrana @shadeowz @gojo1228 @victoriaaaa00 @jaeminaur @seeing-stars-alt

Part Three

388 notes · View notes

tip-top-cloud-surfer · 9 months ago

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 21) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Breast Feeding; Life with a Newborn; Hospitals; Post-Labor; References to Mental Health Issues; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake enjoy your first few days with your daughter.

Series Master List

Master List

Jake walked out of the maternity ward, causing your extended family to quickly get to their feet. He let out an incredulous laugh as everyone moved to gather around him, still not fully believing that he was officially a father now. There were a handful of questions thrown at him, but Jake was still lost in his own world.

He was a dad. He had a little girl waiting for him.

“How are they?” Penny asked, her hand on his shoulder bringing him out of his stupor.

“They’re both healthy. She did great and there weren’t any complications. Baby Girl came out kicking and screaming. She’s six pounds, three ounces. And she's sixteen inches long.”

“And her name?” Maverick asked softly.

“She wanted to tell everyone all together,” Jake replied with a wide smile. And it was going to be near impossible to remove the smile from his face. That awestruck, completely in love smile was practically permanent at this point. “So, she told me to come and bring you all back.”

The group left the waiting room, starting the short trip down the hall to visit you and your baby. Coyote quickly pulled Jake into a bear hug, squeezing the life out of his best friend. Releasing him, Coyote smacked Jake supportively on the back.

“I knew you’d make back it in time,” Coyote replied with a grin.

You were cuddling with your daughter on the hospital bed when there was a light knock on the door. You looked up and smiled softly when you saw your family. And even though you were clearly exhausted, you were absolutely radiating joy. And with the beautiful baby girl in your arms, it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“Hi, everyone.”

“How are you feeling?” Penny asked, moving to sit beside your bed.

“Tired. But she’s finally here.”

You smiled contentedly as you rested your head on top of your daughter’s, still soaking it all in. Sitting up more, you shifted your hold on your daughter, gently rolling towards your family so that they could all see her. You shared a smile with Jake before staring down at your daughter.

“Everyone, meet Sara Seresin.”

“Sarah . . . Seresin?” Maverick repeated slowly, seemingly wincing as he did so.

“After Sarah Kazansky?” Emma asked kindly.

“No, there’s no ‘h.’”

“Well, that makes a huge difference,” Coyote replied, bobbing his head up and down as he shared a side-eye look with his wife.

“Sara Seresin,” Phoenix stated, staring at you like you had grown two heads in the process.

“That’s . . . a beautiful name,” Penny assured you, pinching Maverick in the side.

Jake snapped a picture of everyone’s reaction before turning back to you and your daughter. You tried to fight the laugh at your simple prank, but soon enough, a giggle escaped your lips. Ignoring everyone’s incredulous stares, you adjusted your daughter’s hat.

“We didn’t name her that,” Jake told everyone, earning a series of sighs of relief.

“Oh thank god,” Maverick stated, holding a hand to his heart. Patting your brother on the back, he added, “No offense, Bradley.”

Your brother shot Maverick a look as Jake leaned down to pick up your daughter. Jake carefully took your daughter into his arms, holding her gently against his chest as he turned to the crowd. Everyone seemed to hold their breaths as Jake slowly moved his gaze from his daughter’s face to them.

“We named her Maisie.”

"Maisie Caroline," you added softly.

“Oh, that’s so beautiful,” Penny cooed, squeezing you into her side.

“Much better than Sara Seresin,” Coyote stated under his breath, earning a side-eye look from Bradley. “What?”

“Who wants to hold her?” Jake asked, looking around the room.

Maverick urged Bradley forward and stepped to the side, eyes already brimming with happy tears. Bradley held out his arms and Jake carefully placed your daughter into them. Bradley gently cradled your daughter against his chest, staring down at her with wide eyes as he felt her wiggle.

“I was expecting her to be bigger,” Bradley admitted quietly, turning back to you.

“I’m glad that she wasn’t,” you replied, earning a round of quiet laughs.

“She’s so beautiful,” Emma praised, looking over Bradley’s arm at your daughter.

You and Jake shared a look before you smiled and nodded, reaching out to gently nudge your husband forward. Jake turned back to your brother as Bradley adjusted your daughter’s blanket. He stared down at your daughter as he came to stand beside Bradley.

“Meet your goddaughter,” Jake stated quietly, causing Bradley to turn to him with shock.

“You’re serious?”

“If you don’t want to be—”

“—Thank you,” Bradley interjected instead before Jake could retract his statement. Glancing down at his niece, who was peacefully snuggling into her blanket, Bradley turned back to Jake. “Really, thank you. I know that I wasn’t very supportive of your relationship in the beginning.”

“That might be an understatement,” Jake deadpanned.

“And we didn’t get along for a long time.”

“Since we met.”

“And I stand by it.”

“As do I,” Jake agreed, ignoring the fact that you were rolling your eyes at them.

“But Emma and I are here for you guys if you need anything. Babysitting. Deployments. Anything. Really. You’re a part of our family now. Forever, actually, because of Maisie.”

Jake nodded in appreciation before Bradley turned to give your daughter to Maverick. Although Jake trusted both men with his life—and already had—he couldn’t help but hover during the transfer. His hands were practically itching to cradle your daughter as Maverick carefully took her into his arms.

“He’s already not letting her out of his sight,” Penny whispered to you, amused.

“Not if he can help it,” you agreed with a smile. “She’s got him wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

Maverick cradled Maisie against his chest, holding her protectively. Bradley walked over to give you a hug as Maverick took in the fact that he was holding Goose and Carole’s first grandchild. Goose was a grandpa. Carole was a grandma. To the most beautiful little girl that Maverick had seen since you were born.

“She’s so beautiful,” Maverick croaked out, sniffling as he tried to not let his tears drop down onto your daughter. Turning to you, he added, “Your parents are so proud of you, sweetheart. And they’re here.”

“I know, Mav,” you returned, trying and failing at not crying at his words. Bradley hugged you tighter as you dried your tears.

Turning to Jake, Maverick offered your daughter. Jake quickly accepted your daughter back into his arms and immediately smiled wider as he held his daughter once again. Jake greeted your daughter softly, as if he had been parted from her for too long. Maverick nodded to himself, very proud and thankful that Jake was ecstatic to be a dad to your daughter.

That little girl was going to be loved, that much was certain.

“Congratulations,” Maverick told Jake, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” Jake returned softly.

Maverick walked over to check on you and Jake walked over to where Javy and Nat were standing, waiting patiently for their turn. Javy squeezed Jake’s shoulder supportively, staring down at Maisie with a wide smile.

“She’s beautiful, Jake,” Javy replied, giving his wingman a side hug.

“She gets it from her mom.” Jake shifted his hold on your daughter as he turned back to Javy. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Of course, I want to hold her.”

Jake maneuvered your daughter safely into her Uncle Javy’s arms. Javy had plenty of nieces and nephews, so he wasn’t a stranger to the move. Javy smiled down at Maisie and cooed softly, watching her nose wrinkle as she wiggled in her pink blanket. She stuck her tongue out, causing Javy to laugh.

“Yeah, she’s your daughter alright.”

Phoenix walked over to your hospital bed with a paper take out bag. Holding it out to you, she offered a supportive smile as you shot her a questioning look.

“Your post-baby meal. As promised.”

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out, happily taking the bag from her.

“And whenever you stop breastfeeding, I’ll drop off some wine. You’re going to need it raising Hangman’s kid.”

Everyone stayed for a little bit longer, but no one wanted to intrude on your and Jake’s time with your daughter. You fell asleep not long after Penny and Mav left, leaving Jake and Maisie alone in the hospital room for the first time.

Jake laid down on the couch and rested your daughter against his bare chest again, taking the nurse’s advice on skin-to-skin contact. Maisie’s little head had a surprising amount of hair and Jake slowly ran his finger through it to keep her soothed. Smiling down at his daughter, Jake looked over to see you still peacefully sleeping.

“You scared your mom earlier today, coming early like that. And me too. I thought that I had time to surprise your mom. I was going to get her some nice flowers, set up your nursery, and the rest of the house. But nothing went according to plan with our entire relationship, so I should have expected that you would pull something like this.”

Your daughter wiggled around against Jake’s chest, curling into his body warmth as he continued to brush her hair and back softly.

“And you’re the best welcome home present that I’ve ever received, sweetheart,” Jake added, unable to stop smiling. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before leaning back again. “I’m always going to be here for you, okay? Don’t you ever forget that. I love you. I love your mom. And I’ll do anything to protect the both of you, alright? From anything.”

Jake laid there with your daughter, content to simply watch her, until she started to get fussy. Wiggling and feeling around, Maisie started to try to feed on him. Jake gently rolled to sit up and held Maisie in his arms. Trying to placate her, Jake hoped that you’d be able to sleep for a little longer.

But then Maisie started to cry even louder, and Jake could hear you shift on your bed.

“Jake,” you called, cracking open your eyes.

“I think she’s hungry,” Jake stated, getting up and walking to you.

Nodding tiredly, you sat up and pulled your hospital gown down. Jake handed over your daughter and you tried to get her settled. After some time, Maisie latched and started to feed, allowing you to lean back and close your eyes, still half-asleep.

Jake kept a supportive arm under yours, knowing that you were exhausted. Staring down at Maisie as she suckled, Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You hummed, but Jake could tell that you were tired. Actually, tired was an understatement.

When Maisie finally had her fill, Jake took her into his arms again. Holding your daughter with one arm, Jake readjusted your hospital gown and pulled the blanket up further.

“Go back to sleep. I’ve got her,” Jake told you softly, gently brushing your hair out of your face. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled back tiredly.

~~~~~

Your time in the hospital flew by and before you knew it, you were being released. Jake helped you into the back of your car, where your daughter was already safely strapped in. You were still exhausted, but glad to go home to your own bed. You wanted to finally settle into your home with your husband and your daughter.

Jake gently closed the door to the driver’s seat, not wanting to startle your daughter, and looked back at the two of you over his shoulder. He glanced up at the little mirror attached to the head rest that you had been gifted at your baby shower, which allowed him to look down at your sleeping daughter.

“How’re you doing?” he asked you, causing you to smile softly.

“I’m ready to go home."

“Me too,” Jake agreed, returning your smile.

Starting the car, Jake backed up out of the parking spot and began to drive home. You kept a close eye on your daughter, but Maisie was content and slept through the short ride. Well, it would have been short, but Jake insisted on taking the backroads, driving the speed limit, and yielding to just about everyone or everything. But the three of you eventually made your way home.

“Welcome home, Maisie. Welcome home, Jake,” you stated with a small grin.

Jake got out of the car first and walked around to grab your daughter's car seat. And then the three of you walked into the house together as a family for the first time ever.

Jake quietly noted the boxes that were still piled up around the place but didn't comment about it. Breaking away from Jake’s side, you slowly made your way over to the kitchen and picked up the note that someone left for you.

Your fridge and freezer are full of meals for the two of you. Enjoy this time with your daughter and don’t worry about cooking. Just focus on your family. And you know that you can always call me if you need help. With Love, Sarah.

“I should call her,” you stated, showing Jake the note. He picked it up and noted the writing on the back.

“And don’t worry about calling me, I know you’re thankful,” Jake read aloud, causing you to laugh to yourself.

“I wonder when my mom-senses are actually going to kick in,” you mused, looking down at your daughter.

“They’re already there,” Jake insisted, setting your daughter’s car seat on the ground gently. “Now, what did you want to do while she’s still sleeping?”

“We should probably put her crib together.”

Jake found the box among the stack and pulled it out. You sat on the couch, keeping an eye on your sleeping daughter. Jake opened up the box and handed you the instructions before he started to lay out all of the different pieces.

“Did you want me to read them to you?” you asked, flipping through the instructions.

“I can figure it out,” Jake insisted, causing you to look up and raise an eyebrow at your husband.

“You’re just going to figure it out?” you repeated slowly.

“How hard can a crib be to put together?”

Twenty minutes later, you were sorting through all of the baby clothes that you had been gifted to pull out the size that fit your daughter as Jake quietly muttered to himself. Knowing that he would stubbornly refuse to admit that he was struggling without the directions, you decided to try and shift his focus.

“Now that I think about it, did you want to set up the bassinet first?” you suggested.

“Which box is that?” he agreed, standing up.

“The one sticking out on the right side,” you stated, trying not to laugh at your husband.

Jake, however, could hear the smile in your voice and turned back to you. Walking over to you, he leaned down so that you were eye level.

“I will figure out the crib,” he insisted softly.

“I know you will,” you assured him, running your hand down his cheek. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you added, “You’ll look at the directions while I’m asleep, won't you?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jake pecked your lips again before straightening up and moving to grab the box with the bassinet in it. You smiled to yourself before looking down at your daughter. You leaned down a little bit, placing your finger in her curled fist.

“Your dad is really stubborn. Please tell me that you didn’t get that trait from him.”

“I can hear you.”

“Shh, this is a private conversation,” you teased, causing Jake to smile and shake his head.

~~~~~

Jake set Maisie down in her crib, which he built while you took a nap. If he used the directions or not, he would never admit it aloud. Not unless you gave him a pout, anyways. You walked into your bedroom, having put away some milk for Jake to grab in the night for Maisie, and smiled tiredly when you saw Jake hovering over your daughter.

“How is she?”

“She’s asleep.” Turning to you, Jake walked over and grabbed your hands. “Now, it’s time to take care of you.”

You and Jake stepped into the adjacent bathroom. After you anxiously rambled to Jake about leaving Maisie alone, he very gently pulled her crib over to be next to the door—but not blocking it to avoid steam and just in case there was an emergency—and placed a baby monitor receiver on the towel rack beside the shower, just in case you couldn’t hear her.

Jake gently undressed you before undressing himself. Testing the temperature of the water, Jake stepped in first before offering you a hand. You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped as the hot water hit your sore body. Leaning against your husband, you curled your head into his chest.

Being very gentle with you, Jake lathered your hair with shampoo before washing it out for you. Rubbing his hands together with body soap, Jake carefully washed your skin, knowing that the residual hospital smell was bothering you.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, running your hand through his hair.

After applying conditioner to your hair, Jake held you in his arms as you leaned against his chest. He rubbed your back as the water rained down on the two of you. Pressing a kiss to your head, Jake rested his head against your own.

He didn’t want to bring it up with you yet, not until he could assess the situation himself. But he was worried about you.

When he would check in with Coyote and Phoenix while he was deployed, they mentioned that you weren’t like yourself in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. And Penny confirmed that for him, when he had a moment to talk to her privately at the hospital.

And he hoped that it was just part of your pregnancy and was now nothing to worry about, but he wasn’t just going to dismiss it.

You were his wife. You just had your baby girl two days ago after finishing up your third trimester without him. You moved into this house without him. You had your baby shower without him. You did a thousand things without him because you were forced to just deal with what life threw at you.

And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or Maisie. The past nine months, you had been doing the heavy lifting. And now it was his turn to do that.

Turning off the water, Jake stepped out to grab a towel. He dried you off and after helping you into some pajamas and pulling on some shorts, Jake led you back to your bed. He helped dry your hair as you applied some moisturizer.

“How do you feel now?” Jake asked, causing you to smile up at him.

“Better, thank you.”

You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips that Jake was happy to return. Jake put the TV on and the two of you cuddled in bed as you quickly started to fall asleep. Jake held you into his side, rubbing his thumb on your hip.

“I love you,” he told you softly, causing you to hum.

“I love you too, Jake.”

Tags (PRETTY PLEASE have your AGE on your blog or message me about it to be tagged--thank you!):

[If I missed you, don’t feel bad about asking to be tagged again! But please make sure that your age is in your bio/comment/etc. If you see your tag spelled correctly but did not receive a notification, please double check your privacy settings! Thanks!]

@mrsjobarnes @wishiwasacasualfan @bethabear12 @everythingmarveltopgun @hardballoonlove @mavrellover91 @senjoritanana @sophiaslastbraincell @xoxabs88xox @emma8895eb @dempy @harperdoodle @itsmytimetoodream @sarahjoestewy-blog @the-annoying-fan @athenabarnes @midnightmagpiemama @praline357 @sucker4seresin @sunsetsimpsblog @sgt-barnesveins @abaker74 @kellyls04 @shanimallina87 @trickphotography2 @kmc1989 @boiolay @offical-potato @topgun-imagines @caitsymichelle13 @daddymack01 @hangmandruigandmav @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @lilylilyyyyyy @lillunna @bcon24 @ashcosmo @blackwidownat2814 @specialagentjackbauer @percysaidnever @silenthappyplace @buckysteveloki-me @havlindzk @hookslove1592 @mamachasesmayhem @aviatorobsessed @marvelogic @ems-alexandra @harrysgothicbitch @shawnsblue @shiara04 @erindiggory @eloquentdreamer @tomanyfandomstrash

427 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 8 months ago

Note

I call this the Highlander Au! >:Dc There can Be Only One! (Unless he REALLY enjoys the process and the world stops going to shit for like... FIVE god damned minutes!) (The second is sadly unlikely)

Tim? Fully Cis gendered male. Not terribly ATTACHED to this, physically, but certainly identifies as Male and has a male body.

Maybe it's been all the near misses. The "all my friends fuckin DIED on my and I mentally spiraled like you wouldn't believe". Could be him finally reclaiming his life. Or yet another horrible mental spiral. Who knows!

But he's decided.

He wants to be a Dad. *sound of various Bats choking and/or dropping things*

Is even seeing anybody? Nope. How the FUCK is he gonna get a baby?! Oh, normal, Bat Paranoid fashion. Cloning tube. Same way Damian happened. He just needs to figure out the maternal DNA and he's golden. Figure out where to hide his tech to stop Villainous Baby Snatching Plots.

Because that's a very real concern.

No you can't talk him out of this. Timmy want himself a baby. Is already designing a nursery and studying child development books. Parenting manuals, getting those little animal onsies, lazer death grids to ward of Ra's ninjas. The works.

Bruce is off to the side, quietly having an aneurysm and choking to death on his own spit. Baby boy? Fatherhood? OFFSPRING!? Alone and not going to LET HIM HELP!? But why would he help!? Bad idea! But. But he needs to BE THERE to TAKE CARE of TIM and the future BABY! Aaaaaaaaa-!!!!!

It's a... "Fun" time. Dick is nearing a nervous breakdown. Bruce not far behind. Damians having Feelings(tm).

Then! At a Wayne Charity Event(tm)? Small glowing child. Looks alien. Is getting upset. People backing away IN A HURRY because they just watched this child WARP REALITY to turn the nearest table into candy.

Tim is there as the face of the family. A hero. Already feeling generally Paternal. Upset baby is Bad. So he goes in, dispite clear protests. Gets low and talks soothing.

But the alien Wants Her MOMMY!

And? Oh. Well there goes the protective amulets JLA Dark made for him. Now he's in an alien dress and? Very much no longer Cis. Guess he would have and DID inherent from his dad's side of the family, no boobs. Tiny. At least he got his mom's killer legs.

And the kiddo isn't scared any more. Since he "looks like mommy".

Except not even remotely, because she warps into being an HOUR later, looking for her daughter and is made of pure light. Thanks him. Doesn't FIX anything. And just leaves. Gee, thanks lady.

There were REPORTERS there. Tim Drake has tits now. Front page news. Great. Ra's is GOING to know and get WEIRD about it.

Tim shrugs. Off to Leslie we go, though. Check up time!

Yep. Full lady bits action. And, hey! Shiny new spleen! So that's nice.

It DOES change his plan though. He didn't, you know, collect any "samples" yet. But? Does... does he NEED too? He COULD concoct a story of "rich person hires mystic to get penis back" after going and getting magiced back.... OR?

He could have someone put a baby in him! *simultaneous Bat Choking Noises*

MUCH easier to defend. THEN he could be changed back, after the baby is weaned. The problem is who to trust? Ra's is ABSOLUTELY going to do everything in his power to get his seed inside Tim new puss. So a seed bank is out. And-

*hands slam on the table*

Obviously! We can't trust anyone outside this house! Villian plots and Ra's specifically! Bat paranoia! W-we will just have to make this sacrifice for you!

.....Weirdly intense, but okay.

Objection! Says Tim's newly no longer Dead team mates. Tim tried to CLONE Kon! OBVIOUSLY it should be Kon! And Bart! Bro Threesome! Let nature decide! (Then kid number 2 is the other Bro, is only FAIR)

ALSO a good point. He did have that promise, if one of them ever got turned into a girl. And a Kon baby WOULD be nice...

Shit! Grayson pulls "last of my legacy and I have so much to make up for" cards!

Is betrayed by his OWN FATHER (Bruce! How COULD YOU!?) Who plays "you saved me from the time steam and nearly died for me, let me help(emotional)" to devastating effect!

Cheating! Howls the Speedster! You're CHEATING!!!

And Tim stands there... kinda confused but finding he's actually Really In To This as people argue over how much THEY want to be the one to put a baby in him? He's never felt this badly WANTED. Desired.

He may not want to go through the whole "actually carrying a baby for 9 months then pushing one out" thing more then once.... but the fighting over him thing? This might be awaking something.

And, well, Kon already made a good point. Why try to control it? Let nature decide~

Everyone can help.

The argument stops dead. For all of the seconds before "who goes first?" Occurs to everyone.

Sadly for THEM, Bruce is a bastard willing to play dirty to get what he wants. And his house his rules. He goes first. After all, he no doubt smirks, none of THEM have the... experience, to handle a virgin properly.

He refuses to allow Tim hurt on his watch.

Got it? Good talk. Tim, with him.

Which is what leads to Tim clawing at the bed and begging like his life depends on it, soaked in sweat, hours later. As Bruce STILL gently, teasingly, RUTHLESSLY eats him out. Puddles worth of lube ruining the sheets and easing his way, as he works calloused fingers DEEP to find spots Tim didn't know he had yet. As they rub and tease and fuck against those spots so relentlessly it feels like Tim's coming apart.

He didn't even know he could MAKE half these noises.

His hole is so wet and sloppy, it's like it's given up. Like his body can do nothing but quiver and twitch under Bruce's hands. Given how big he is? Probably the point. Because he crawls up to loom over Tim like a giant. Presses kisses to his whimpering, sweaty face. And rocks into his exhausted body, filling every inch of him.

It doesn't even hurt. Something that big probably SHOULD for his first time, but Bruce isn't a legendary playboy for nothing. And it just fills and Fills and FILLS. Rubs against everything in a way that makes his toes curl. Makes him want to gasp and cling, even though he's so exhausted.

Bruce just shooshes him. Pulls him close. He won't have to do a thing. He can just cling to Bruce and feel good. Bruce is here. He's got you.

And it's the best thing Tim's ever felt. Forget masturbation, sex is AMAZING. Bruce rocking then thrusting then pounding into his body. Holding tight like something precious. Hammering his good spots still he sees stars. Til he's nearly sobbing, hiccuping, from how good it feels to have his insides all messed up.

Bruce fills him up. All gooey and warm. Picks him up and carries him to a clean bed to get wiped down and tucked in. Cleans up then joins him. Fills him back up and tucks him close. He feels boneless and precious. Sleeps like the dead.

Discovers sex with a puss is AWESOME.

Next morning, he's barely out of Bruce's room before Dick is scooping him up and dragging him into his room. Almost franticly bending him in half as he presses him to the bed, kissing the air out of him. Holding his face as he whispers filthy praise into his lips. Hips relentless as they slam home, pounding at just the right angle.

Like he's trying to make for YEARS of mistakes by pouring it all into pleasure NOW. Clinging tight and trying to fry Tim's brain with how good he can make him feel. Dick buries his faces against Tim's neck and rutts like he's making up for lost time. Fucking Tim through orgasms, spilling again and again, like he's determined to drain his balls dry and wring every last bit of pleasure he CAN out of Tim's exhausted body.

Tim has to threaten to hit him with an alarm clock to let him up. Tim wants LUNCH damn it. They missed breakfast. By a LOT.

But then work calls. Damn it. So he has to get dressed. Double damn it. And he does it, but refuses to be pleased about it. Resolves things. Even gets ahead on work. Only for DAMIAN to walk stiffly into his office. Sus.

The gremlin hands him a frankly VERY well put together report on why he, Damian AL Ghul... should be allowed to fuck a baby into Tim. He has brought along a slide show and genealogical report.

.......Explain.

Damian does. He REALIZED some things about himself. When Tim was discussing becoming a Father. Using the same method as he, himself, was created. Went through a whole "go to the Kent farm and have a life change adventure" character growth arc, as you do. And? Now realizing that he potentially COULD be DIRECTLY involved in the Hypothetical Child's life instead of as an uncle?

He wants in. They could be glorious, combined. AND he firmly believes Tim will be a magnificent Mother. Let him Father your child.

It's a bad idea. Tim knows this. He literally JUST slept with Bruce yesterday and nothing good comes from sleeping with AL Ghul's. They Obsess. But? Fuck it. Maybe THIS is the thing that finally stops the Tim-Gremlin cold war and bring peace to house Wayne once and for all. He unbuckles his belt. Walks over to his resting room.

And Tim KNOWS, even as he's being urgently fucked into the fold out bed, that this is an AWFUL idea. No way in HELL, from the desperate and sloppy thrusts, clinging, panting and whines, is this NOT Damian's first time. He's utterly undone.

Pounding load after load into Tim because it feels too good to stop. All enthusiasm and no skill. Half the pleasure Tim's even GETTING is his own hand, relentlessly teasing his own clit. But? Oh. The feeling of being wanted so BADLY. Of cum, gushing and gushing into him. Knowing it's HIS hole that's so good, it's driving Damian incoherent.

He feels... sexy. It DEFINITELY does something for him. He may not be able to go back. Could see himself enjoying being a milf.

But of course. Business hours end. And he PROMISED! Is swept up by Bart for their threesome. Which, after several rounds and untold loads of near-no-refractary-period speedster cum dumped inside him? Is kinda spotty, in his memory.

All he knows for certain is he wakes up to his sheepish best friends, "Sorry we fucked you unconscious repeatedly" bribes, no voice, and a warm bath. He's also plugged up and FULL full of that premium speedster/half-kryptonian blend cum, because apparently his friend intend to WIN and nothing says victory like overwhelming odds. He'd call them fuckers, but they ARE and hold no remorse. He can't move.

Carry him you bastards.

When he asks where Cassie is, he learns she's apparently trying to harrass the magic users into a making her a temporary "turn me into a dude" amulet. Both as a gift AND so she can join the race for Father Of Tim's Baby. Huh. Interesting new options.

Obviously, throughout ALL of this, ninjas. Because Ra's has never wanted to smash so hard in his LIFE.

Instead, Tim is out here, on Jason's shitty couch. Getting lifted up and slammed down onto his cock. Called baby girl. Princess. Jason's never been harder. Already planning their kids graduation dinner and baby number three.

Tim feeling precious and taken care of and DESIRED. Like the young adult with a first shitty apartment he never got to be. Something so close to normal. Put a baby in him. Fuck him like you love him, like they do this every Saturday night, then eat pizza and watch trash TV. Fill him up.

And if course~ it's a VICIOUS game of Fuck The Tim keep away, up until one day he starts to show. Then Everyone is loving and coddling and in a "No I Am The Father" cold war. The birth is a nightmare, because Tim is slender and more scar tissue then not. But?

Adorable quarter-Kryptonian! With the biggest blue eyes and Tim's porcelain doll face.

Tim is NOT doing that again. Ffffffuck giving birth. And being pregnant! Granted, the EARLY part? He loved. He glowed. Getting pregnant was AWESOME. But later stages? God awful. Clone tube babies from here on out.

Absolute Devastation in the Tom Fucking Community. Babe no! You can't MEAN IT!

Woah, hey! He never said he'd STOP. "Getting Pregnant" is very, VERY enjoyable. He's just refusing to carry SHIT. Birth control for HIM. Scooping that slurry of "leave it up to Nature" out and storing it. Now... Kon stop being smug and hold your son.

-🐼🐼🐼

😭😭😭 tim getting everyone to come to dinner and they all think it was alfred and are like 'this was a great idea alfred! we should all get together like this more often' only for tim to cough and say well actually i called you all here, i figured you all deserved a heads up since i'm going to be undergoing some serious life changes. everyone's confused and then tim says he's going to have a baby.

immediate panic and some disappointment from bruce because he thinks this is a teen pregnancy and he expected better from tim only for tim to have to yell to interrupt everyone and say there is no 'girl', not yet anyway. he's just announcing that he's GOING to have a baby. they're not yet conceived and now the family is dealing with whiplash of how of course TIM would do something like this now they're sitting their listening to him talk about the ideal gene pool given tim's family has a history of mental issues and he's going into some very detailed things like nurseries and everyone just wants him to slow down because tim is still a kid!!! dick is older than him and even HE doesn't feel ready. so everyone is trying to talk tim out of it while tim insists he's ready, he's been going to a therapist for 11 months trying to deal with his issues so he COULD be ready to be a parent.

which of course baffles them even more because???? dick has been trying to get them all into therapist for years and tim just???? went??? on his own????

bruce is of course the least welcoming of tim's ideas of teen parenthood. because what about highschool, college? at least ONE of his kids has to go to college!

tim however says no, says his GED is more than enough.

bruce tries finding other angles, asking what if he just sets tim up with babysitting gigs? make him see kids aren't that great and tim just huffs and said he already did a bunch of babysitting and volunteering at the children's centers in gotham as part of his adoption application!

which ???? just stressed bruce out even more?! because tim had tried to adopt a baby first? but apparently got rejected because of his age, lack of partner, and lack of job which tim loudly says is unfair because bruce was in his 20s when he took in dick and HE hadn't had a partner or a job!

so the family is protesting, despertly trying to get tim to change his mind,,, then tim gets a womb and suddenly the protests die down VERY quick.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

64 notes · View notes

theshadowrealmitself · 10 months ago

Text

Thinking about the post I made about an omega getting transported to a universe without the a/b/o dynamics (unfortunately can’t reblog that original post with this addition cause both posts are gonna be scheduled) and I think a situation like that would really help give me what I want out of omegaverse

What I really want out of omegaverse is all the world building stuff, how a society and its people would function in that situation, but most of the time it’s a reimagining of intense misogyny, which is not my cup of tea

But I think a situation where a person goes from a society like that (without the omega hate) to a society where a/b/o isn’t a thing, would really highlight how different things would be

Technically the omegaverse society is different depending on the author, so I’m making up my own version, and adding in aliens:

Heats and ruts can cause health problems, the stress it puts on your body every month can lead to a ton of issues down the road, and honestly you just don’t wanna have your life be disrupted that much, so going on suppressants is common, especially for people who are single

But going off of suppressants can be deadly, and sometimes your suppressants can start being less effective as time goes on, so calling out of whatever to make sure you can go to the doctors and have that all figured out is not only normalized but also encouraged

(But now you’re suddenly in a universe where Humans don’t go through all that and you’re running out of suppressants and you’re just hoping the scientists, Vulcan ones who are strangely extremely interested in your heat suppressants and keep asking you about rut suppressants?, can quickly figure out how to make more)

Depending on the situation, scent blockers can be used (mostly in the maternity ward, so the medical staff don’t accidentally get their scent on the kids and accidentally cause the parents to instinctively think they’re trying to take away their kids), but it’s more of a personal preference

Alphas, omegas, and even betas can scent mark things, but alpha scents are usually just more noticeable because they tend to be more territorial and aggressive, doesn’t mean that omegas and betas aren’t scent marking things for the same reason, so just because you can’t smell an alpha around, doesn’t mean you aren’t encroaching on someone’s space, you can also tell people’s emotions from their scent

(You hate that in this new universe, no one can smell that you claimed stuff and you have to remember to verbalize it, you also hate that the only ones who can smell you are aliens who have to be weird about it because they aren’t used to Humans smelling like that)

I can never think of anything cool for betas and I hate that it’s usually just like “betas are usually just how Humans are irl”, so what, they don’t have cis guys that can get pregnant and cis women who can sire kids? boring! but I can’t think of anything fun for them!

Claiming bites are a thing, but mostly a thing of the past, still, you never touch go near an omega’s through without explicit consent

(If another fucker tries to go near your neck again you’re losing it at them >:/)

Nests are a big thing, even outside of heats, and kids, and stuff, it’s just really beneficial to an omega to have a safe, soft, place they have complete control over, their instincts demand it

(Apparently nesting isn’t a normal fucking thing for Humans in this universe?? you can’t find the round mattress with the round frame that has a headboard that goes around a majority of the bed to kinda cocoon you anywhere, that’s like, the most basic thing you’d used to find in stores, and now you keep having to find specialty shops that cater to extraterrestrials to find anything remotely similar, or figure out how to replicate it yourself, this is so frustrating!!! you’re gonna be so much more frustrated when you try to find the other supplies needed for nesting)

Instead of heats and ruts being quick things, there’s still a lot of time and clarity before it hits them, so like, let’s say if it’s a default alpha/omega, the omega will obsess over their nest and get it just right while the alpha get their scent on everything else in the room to let everyone else know to fuck off (if it’s any other pairing, then whoever feels the most comfortable fighting if a trespasser comes by, [even though that almost never happens, but there’s always that instinctual worry that if will happen] is the one who gets their scent on everything else and makes sure the room they’re in is secure)

(I love the idea of this omega getting a temporary Vulcan partner because their heat came on quickly, and Vulcans understand their predicament, so the omega is stressing over their nest while the Vulcan is walking around, methodically trying to scent everything because they know that also serves to make the other person not scenting feel secure in that scenario, and then, because I feel like Vulcans are a little bit of control freaks (lovingly) the Vulcan goes over to fuss with the nest as well and the omega is strangely content with that)

That’s what I have for now, may add stuff later

#star trek #humans #aliens #Vulcans #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics

35 notes · View notes

comrade-margot · 2 months ago

Text

A Kentucky of Mothers By Dana Ward (posted for posterity)

As i had to go to the wayback machine to even find this poem. one i find extremely pognient and important to my transition. im posting it here for the sake of posterity. remember the secret of Primative Accumulation. and the fruits of labor and culture will be perserved with the proletariet. -Comrade Margot. Today in the PEN Poetry Series, guest editor Maggie Nelson features a poem by Dana Ward. About Ward’s work, Nelson writes: “It’s not an exaggeration to say that encountering Dana Ward’s poems cleaved my life in two. Before, I had the occasional flickering doubts about contemporary poetry—what it could do next, what sounds/ forms of address/ ranges of interests/ combinations of talky/ political/ confessional/ sublunary/ metaphysical/ gossipy/ unabashedly gorgeous/ profoundly intelligent, rushing, and WILD poetics was still possible. After, I knew I had nothing to worry about. This poem, “A Kentucky of Mothers,” is one of my favorite poems ever. I hold it close to my heart, and encourage you to read it, then read everything Ward has written, which includes the books This Can’t Be Life (2012) and The Crisis of Infinite Worlds (2013).”

A Kentucky of Mothers

Derek what’s Kentucky for you?

An orange rubber globe? A jagged blue shoe, Paducah-toed, & heeled somewhere near eastern Tennessee? A place with dirt in mouth & blood on hands & prettiness all over in its undulance & peaking. Where Marshall Allen’s lips & lungs began to kiss & breathe. Where, through Wes Unseld’s divinity of play, physical reality was altered by his Balanchine. Where the laureateship of Cassius Clay began, in the poem of changing his name to Muhammad Ali. His tonal university of butterflies that sting as those similes collapsed the float of puncture into me.

“I’m so bad I make medicine sick.” he once said. Really that’s as well as one can write.

But Derek, since you’re from there too, what is that place for you, Kentucky?

I know that you can’t answer me this morning though the golden-Sharpie’d Peyton you made me keeps watch here while I type this down in our world. It’s coke’d up nose still bleeds. So there’s always some wilder night in the memory of the picture, an invisible tincture of bumps for me, awakening the implants in the archive of my body.

Fill its search field with some bluegrass. Press return.

Kentucky is mainly a myth I abide because I learned to love inside its stories.

For me it’s a maternal place but not the mother-land.

It’s where my heart when it was young & small & lacked impressions

took its wealthy shape in songful opulence

of birthdays.

Who were they? All these mothers who seem mothers to me still?

My father, who mothered the concessions of mortality by dying in my childhood, giving birth to me in hospice care, two floors above the maternity ward where my mom, eight years before, saw me into the world.

So her of course. But she is where this poem’s going.

June, who was someone to watch over me, desirous of children but childless, she & I lived in a mutual surrogacy. She died with my mother as her daughter, & I as her grandson, recipient of doting forgiveness, flawed inheritor of her one conceptual novel, consisting of the Golden Rule repeated to infinity. Her being was the hotel in The Shining had it been enlivened by impossible benevolence instead. By which I mean she was so nice that it was weird.

One year older than me, next door, there was Jessica, by whom I was both brutalized & cherished. She showed me how I was mere thing in the world, another doll absorbing storms of affect. The porcelain heart my other codlings yielded was for her an invitation to explore just how much cruelty could be managed before I ran off sobbing to more empathetic mothers. Her tough love was econ 101.

Then the Barry Manilow mother-hood records in the living room which bore my dependence on preposterous emotion & show. His nurturing colluded with the neediness of children as it lived & lives in me. It nursed some pleading chintz my art relies on even now. Julie Andrews mom of me as well when I go big & sweet to get my way.

Also the Ella Fitzgerald cassette in the Honda, the mother one reveres. Pristine her voices feel for how ebullience to gutter grief & every nuance in between was waiting to be coaxed from the material of life (I mean its music) if intelligence & discipline were paid. To her I would remain a disappointment, & she remained remote in all her generous perfections.

Ft. Thomas where we lived, a nursery of whiteness, so plain in being racist it was clear. You could see the white & hateful core through every opaque surface. These orders of transparency were births in their malignancy, of what to be against in one’s becoming. A feel for the structures of division how we’re cut by race & class & sex so then The Father in his local form of hoarding.

Chapman, Rex, who I loved with the fervor of a Bieber-ite, who bore what’s called the ‘girl-ish heart aflutter’ in my body. It beat its wings in frenzy as I idolized him so. I wanted to cry like Beatlemania when he dropped 25 on U of L his freshman year. No one told me my performance of idolatry was femme.

The boys who were my friends found me so weird in this I wonder now if they thought making fun of me redundant. Some of those boys were my mothers as well.

Blake so pretty, shy & duty bound. Jacob von Gunten. He mothered sanity & keel, & too their limits, revealing the harm of normed wellness in the bedtime stories we told one another, 9 or 10 in bed together, mother & child & child & mother.

Geoff, the mother I would bury in his youth, though then, in the time of his maternity, he gave me life as if he’d stolen it from god on my behalf. His delight & his approval were my joy & aspiration. His charms surpassed the mesmerism Orpheus possessed, deployed in service of whatever’s endless lulz. He had some Mary Poppins & the rarest bedside manner, Lake District with his bandages & ornery soups for spirit. I loved him past the tragedy of Oedipus in puppy ways & chastity still later, sitting shiva with the future we were going to spend together. His mother love was funeral & teen. Now there’s nothing left to know of its exhaustion.

Some mothers only last a season. Or a day. Or the life of the party. There were only two more mothers in Kentucky left for me.

The first was Allen Ginsberg, who arrived by way of that cultural line I had followed form the Beatles, on to Dylan where I found him, this sort of interesting guy at Bob’s side, sensing he’s the guru but not being quite sure how. Already invested in what I took to be the outlaw canon, Allen was skeleton key, giving not only his art, poetics clear in DIY articulation, & too the queer in factuality, modernity, it’s cosmopolitan glory, experimental & demanding no more fealty to its aspects than what could be accessed for our survival, & the suddenness of vision & of pleasure. Blood & shit were on the table near a leaky Hebrew Bible. The incense stick puffed Leaves of Grass in scented smoke around the angel head of someone who would soon be in his bed & plainly naked as the ethics of the muse should govern flesh. His motherhood awakened all my senses.

He asks a wild question of himself there in Kaddish, musing over whether he should try & do it with his mother, right there in the infirmary, just to see how that would feel. You laugh because it’s funny then you laugh like woah, it’s heavy. He seems really free inside his mind! It’s excessive yet from him it sounds so healthy. It’s why so many people have him as a mother they remember. So many inhibitions shattered—for the fervor & the humor of the quest.

Geoff & I went to see him give a reading in Kentucky, in Lexington, in 1993. Geoff was no longer my mother by then. We were both still Allen’s children en extremis. He read & sang & chanted. We were joyous gathered round him, beamed & smiled in our nearness to the body of our mother, needy, anxious to go even closer still.

So Geoff & I stood there, in the long line with our books, waiting for his dedication’s kiss upon our pages, swooning sons with steadfast City Lights. I went first, & Allen asked my name, but barely met my gaze. He lingered though with Geoff, meandered in his beauty, these two mothers of mine, flirting in a way that felt like watching boyish pulp of the initial batted eyes behind my body’s constitution. They seemed to wink & dare & coo for several hours.

Geoff rejoined me & he showed me his inscription. Allen had addressed him as angel boy & done a little drawing. What’s more he’d invited Geoff to his hotel! We were seventeen. We hadn’t been this far away from home, not by ourselves, ever before in our whole lives. 90 minutes by car from our parent’s front doors. We were fucking Sam & Frodo in the morning of the ring, two bumpkins all mixed up in grander magic.

Now, which mother were we going to run to?

Its easy to forget what blameless ignorance can be because our culture calls it innocence instead. That heaps too much untrammeled snow & later says it’s sullied though the dirt was there from jump, & time refines it. Thusly unrefined I’m just not sure we understood. I know we didn’t understand what little sex we’d had, our bodies or the bodies of our lovers, young women lost in their way too, though smarter. All we knew was hard-sold dude lore told through locker room & porn. “Big Titties” or whatever. Baseball diamond of erotic pilgrim’s progress.

But we believed good heartedness would certify desire in eternity. The plebiscite of seekers was the carnival of night. The orgy a fait accompli. Now one of our moms maybe wanted fuck! She was making good on bodied promise. Here was the gift in the flesh. We were incandescent with the truth of her, & shared her honor there between us. Precious drug.

First let me say we just went home. I don’t think we knew, in the end, at least not for sure, what the invitation meant for Geoff. If he’d gone to find out then where was I supposed to go? All we did we had to do together. Mom’s response to Geoff’s allure had made it true as cosmic fact. So we departed with our intuitions written in the stars. We needed nothing else for our fond adventure equation.

But now? I think it’s a shame. We did it wrong. Geoff should have offered up his pretty body to our mother. We should have offered her one body. Ours.

Because us having two of them was waste of healthy matter. What I should have done was gone & donated my organs, then poured my excess ooze inside of Geoff; hold your nose & open up you fucking corpse my heart’s obsessed with, then made my was as slime into the womb-less space where I began as embryo of who I was that day. Then he could have carried me in utero to & Allen, & whatever he wanted would be his. Maybe lots of soulful talk for hours of suspense, & then to be joined in soft, passionate kisses, tingling caresses, dissolutions of the flesh at heights, mysteries, pleasures, trembling heavens, nerves made crushed velvet of pre-cum & spit. Pillows then, & slumbers, & a cigarette to meet our raptured soreness in the dawn.

The reproductive algebra of “Veracruz” obtained. A child emerged from the absence of encounter. A darling little thing no more than myth in its material. As real as baby Allen was the day that he was born. Like the make-believe the commonwealth Kentucky is a passion play of mists & bloods & poverty & mountains. A baby like a state of love & nothing in its mother.

The three of us, by never fucking in Kentucky, made a child. Sometimes I always wonder where she’s gone.

She’s in my ear as Cymbeline to listen for her nothing ghost whose youth has soaked the alphabet with music.

But what’s the alphabet to music if it’s not a dead imaginary child people think they’re so in touch with

one another. What’s the internet, the people all keyed up on boards which really are a boneyard of such offspring of our fantasies efficiently arranged from Q to M.

Because this isn’t writing. This is typing.

& my mother’s an extraordinary typist by the way. The one who held me in her body, near her body, kept me fed.

I’ll say more about her soon. What’s deep & simple?

But now I’ll say I’d nearly left the nest. My last Kentucky mom would see me off into the poem. & though I met her long before I met Allen, the realization didn’t come until much later. That she, more than anyone else, was the matriarch that opened writing’s world.

O Veronica Sawyer, my mother. I was watching Heathers all the time. O Veronica you cared for me so well. Your affected monocle, the way you dove into your journal, an avenging angel coming back from hell at 3pm, flown into acerbic pique by spiritual distress.

You were young to have been caring for a son three years your junior. You were little more than 17 yourself.

Lord I tried to mirror you. I failed. Yet there you were. As reliable as emptiness of metric on the testing day. As sharp as #2’s are for the throat.

I loved the way your pen was always pregnant with your sword. All that social cruelty that your soul could not abide. All that degrading service you’d performed in employ of those tyrants who like school days come & go with common agonizing sameness.

You could see the beauty of the omelet life could be! Soon you’d be persuaded to the side of breaking eggs. But tactical revolt was not enough for your dumb boyfriend. He was charming though, & sexy, so your heart kept coming back. With reservations. Although things kept getting hotter. Sex & crime make up the Reece’s cup for teens who hate the world. Everyone should eat up all they can!

But you opened up a breach old suave JD did more like blow. He was snorting up the Less Than Zero void & killing children. His moralizing started sounding hollow. You knew that you had to get out. When you faked your own suicide I’d never been more proud. I’d never seen my mother hang & smile.

Then after all the shit went down, & you blew off his finger, & he blew his body to bits on the steps, you came home bathed in soot & charring ashes of his body, that red ribbon spider cracked your eyes they were so blood shot, & your gaze was like the feel of someplace years of war had changed, there were ruins in it, smoke & haze, cadavers. We watched Breakfast Club with Martha Dunnstock twice that night. I’d never seen so many human tears.

But really as my mother…it’s this writing thing you did, this fall & swoop into you journal, your motion made me think the heart’s confession’s were more real because they fronted, in their littleness, designs against the world as it is premised on unerring domination.

The ruling cliques, the system’s ribbon gathering their locks & every two or four Novembers it’s some other fucking Heathers, other warlords, other bankers, mainly dudes.

But it’s that way you said ‘dear diary’, like nausea was pining in intelligent exhaustion for the words that thrummed against them in the body of your mind.

That sound was how I felt those years.

It’s kicked me out of the house. The house of one feeling for developmental shelter. I started writing a novel. So I became the mother of a character, Veronica essentially, although I had named her Amanda. In my novel she murdered a teacher she hated. Then ran away from home to live in gladness in the basement of a woman she befriend. The woman was a poet who was making love for fun, stealing wine that she could pay for just because, & terrorizing her small town with that illegal mixture of the female & Rimbaud.

The book was called Never Go Home.

I wrote the thing on legal paper, longhand, during class, & then at night in bed, Sweet Valley High. I laugh but this was pre-Columbine. Sometimes I think if I were in school now & writing that? Shit. That kid might really be arrested!

God my poor real mom she would have died.

But people say her eyes contain a twinkle they believe in. When they see it they don’t need a leap of faith. Although I was surrounded by hate, as the common disasters claimed our town as most are claimed, my mother barred that city with a pivotal insistence so the heart could turn away to meet new thought. My life is when critique feeds from the auras of her care, a violet glow that begs negation as a sharpening to yellow, or a deepening to red that means ‘the Real’ is not so cool that it is spared a mother’s love in its redout. The way these colors drink me is my sight. I have been inspirited to tesselate their spectrograph by singing so the 4th dimension flutters in their plane, the 3rd may bell the heart & move the blood to hear a ring, to honor lights in eyes that shine against imprisoned worlds & for her merry life of grief that rudder’d mine.

For her my admiration & my love just can’t be typed.

These are my Kentucky mothers then. The mothers of my heart.

& I’ve been reading that Yepez book on Olson, The Empire of Neomemory, & good lord it is astonishing. He talks about how Olson attempts to construct an alter-patriarchy on the ruins of an already false one. Part of his martial, nationalist project of mythos. Stacking universe & state & self on Pound-carved Plymouth Rock of cock & balls.

Yepez says, in essence, Olson’s thing is an elaborate psycho-social misprision. No less interesting because of that, & perhaps a great deal more. It’s quite revealing.

I thought about that some while I was writing this, & wondered, how might we construct a matriarchy of the world instead? God knows for truth & world’s sake that we should.

But what of this. What I’ve been writing. How to think it?

Many gendered micro-lineage,

the matriarchs of my Kentucky heart?

To narrate one huge part of one’s small life in one small state in one dead country so besotted by oblivion, through mothers.

But is ‘mother of’ precise?

Should I say ‘singers of’ instead?

The heart wants what it wants I guess

those metaphoric light years of itself are all it has—its flesh & blood

its Moulin Rouge

its basic make-up

doctored St. Theresa reputation & a problem like Maria for the discourse it keeps

photo bombing like the sound of music.

Alive

in some pretty dead hills.

O god save all the many gendered-mothers of my heart, & all the other mothers, who do not need god or savior,

our hearts persist in excess of the justice they’re refused.

& yo. I have nothing like Olson’s ambitions. But my source in varied care is something real in my song’s story. The way we have our source in locks & open endings, still

there was this thing I meant to say

way back at the beginning

of how the heart is dreamed by idiom

then seeps from out of speech & song to wet the feeling’s thought

Bullfinch’s water on the brain

of love & when the floodplain dries

the myths have drowned alive in their reality of being

to haunt our body’s opera as the stories of our life.

That is no exaggeration

it’s just a penny on the ground

it’s just the repertoire in flight toward ever newer immolations, disembowelments

reunited

holding hands beside the carousel again

then grab your bag

how much alike & not it is the others there gone round & round

how much it’s like a plastic pastel steed

the way its piping up & down

distinguished from the other inauthentic breathing

ponies by the magic’s fact that circulates between us

like an organ sound.

It doesn’t fit beneath our wounded breast

inside the mega-church bewitched

bewildered, bothered

Ella’s way.

It’s just a penny in the busker’s cup

& since you’ve heard it all before

she’ll sing her flawless analects unmoored in static changes.

She writes the songs

she writes the songs she is the heart like all of us are driving nowhere

spending someone else’s hard earned pay.

But there’s this thing I meant to say

way back at the beginning

that Kentucky is the place I found my heart’s real princess soul.

I don’t know.

Does that sound strange?

Perhaps it’s

pretty easy to

explain…

My heart’s eyes are closed when I am walking in the sun, & they dream the way I look in my delight. I’m a princess then & I have every thought inside my head, as well as none. I am neither regal nor belong to special blood, & I am simple in my costume of a levitating pink, cheap in clothes a royal wouldn’t dress a beggar’s wound in, smiling ear to ear as if I’d nursed on Purple Rain & smack, then set out for my walk of painless warmth. There’s liquidity of sex moving in between my legs. In desire I’m for anyone & I belong to nothing. I commune with bluebirds in the customary way because my singing is so kind & perspicacious. I am free, never once having seen my own image, existing in my mind’s eye as a portrait of forgivenesses received & that’s my calculous of body. Effervescence wanders in my system as the animating spa of matter lacking prime directive, bathing all sensation for an amplifying mildness my being is reliant on as empty, tender joke. The world is all this is in its exquisiteness & filter, the details I receive are simply dialect, & murmuring, a tease made of fulfillment & release. I am beaming absolution in my tulle & my satin, as light means only light has been for pointlessly rejoicing. Shade is little more than night that sun sings for completeness through the liberated objects near my motion. I waltz to meet the billowed bell my shadow is, for sleeping, as sun sings Honolulu nights of me, & endless births. & what was harm? & what was loss? As if ‘to love’ meant never knowing either one.

But my heart’s eyes are open when I’m walking in the sun, & I see me as I am here in estrangement from the facts of all who have in our conditions lost & sang, less known than not & social, for my truth of constitution as it’s made.

But still. What is that princess soul so real in heart’s release?

It’s the absolute mirage that private happiness is seeking in its adequate contrivance of a figment.

It is happiness more actual than blood & making good on its reality by offering myself to me in this authentic picture.

Perhaps it’s all my mothers in their elegance & heavens.

Perhaps it is my mother when she smiles in my mind & her contentment comes to life beyond its borders.

Perhaps it is my daughter’s joy when I have mothered well.

Perhaps it’s institution in a pretty dissipation.

Perhaps she is an emissary born past all of this, & come to tell through feeling how the locks will die in swells of interpenetrating being not yet thought.

Perhaps the heart’s the princess in its picture so impoverished it is fine to pump in rhythms that the blood holds out for that

redistribution & no center in our nourishment of motions.

Then the world goes all pre-code so free & post to seethe with titillation.

Of course auto-correct sees ‘total ruin’

as if to even speak of freed arousal were an error in the language

mythic imperfection that my princess is in speech.

Our love is god.

It’s really touching.

Sometimes I think that I’m just in the way.

Derek, anyone

what do you say?

Is it good to call these others as my moms the way I have? Is it care, & if it is, have I gave honor in my song?

My heart tells me surely they’re the mothers of its fact.

So many others & in our world with its infinite oppressions

who can know what honor is

or love?

Perhaps it’s like Kentucky in the way the state contains so many cities of the world, having stolen, for its country places, several famous names.

Look at a map of the state:

There’ s Florence.

There’s London.

There’s Warsaw,

& Paris.

There’s Alexandria,

& Athens.

There’s Versailles.

In Kentucky here’s what people say: “Versails.” The twang distorts the reference to the opulence & splendor. It makes it into someplace else that’s also just is real. Mother

when the heart announces cities of its birth

in twangs which mean it’s from such

storied places.

The way a child of Versails may seem a gremlin of Versailles

or a princess-man who’d die

to sing his heart out.

A princess of Versails may be a child of Versailles of care

a princess-man alive

to sing his heart out.

& he may live to see the world’s Versailles be crushed & freed & him

with them

& him with them

#a kentucky of mothers #Dana Ward #A Kentucky of Mothers #Poems #Poetry #posted for postarity #poetry #Maggie Nelson #PEN America

2 notes · View notes

grandmaster-anne · 2 years ago

Text

Relative Values: royal siblings Zara Tindall and Peter Phillips on miscarriage, horses and Harry and Meghan

Interviews by Audrey Ward | Published 29 July 2018

Zara

Peter and I are 3½ years apart. Because I was younger I was always trying to play catch-up with him. When we were little we fought a lot and he was pretty mischievous, but he would often say that if I did something he would get in trouble for it.

I joined him at boarding school in Dorset when I was eight. My mum [Princess Anne] originally said I wasn’t going, but I wanted to go where my brother was and my parents probably got fed up with me as well. It was different back then. They were always travelling. When they separated [Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips divorced in 1992] it was obviously sad, but the way they did it was not harmful to us. I don’t remember it as a painful time. And I had Pete.

I loved school, I loved sport and being with my mates all the time. I don’t know how much work I did. You do get homesick, but I had so much fun, and Pete was very protective. All his friends were too. They kept me out of trouble. After Dorset, I joined him at Gordonstoun. He hung out with a group of lads who liked to have fun, but he always knew how to get away with stuff. When he was made head boy, I thought, “How did you manage that?”

After school I decided to commit to riding to see if I was any good. I managed to find a horse called Toytown and it went from there. We went up the levels together, me and Toytown. I had a very good horse in him. Taking part in the world championships was a career highlight, along with winning silver in a home Olympics. My grandmother [the Queen] loves the horses. It’s easy for her to understand it. She’s very proud of all her grandchildren, everyone is doing such different things.

I met Mike [Tindall, the former England rugby captain] in 2003. In the beginning of our relationship, Pete was very watchful of how Mike treated me. He wanted the best for me. Did I ever hook up with any of his friends? No way. It was the complete opposite: “Don’t go near my sister.”

I think Pete found it quite strange when I had my first child [Mia, 4]. I’m not very maternal. If someone had a new baby and said, “Do you want to hold my baby?”, I’d go, “No thanks,” but I really enjoyed all of it when I had Mia. I shocked myself. There’s quite a big gap between Mia and Lena: Mia is about to start school; with Lena, who is a month old, I’m going back and doing it all again.

I had a miscarriage in 2016 and afterwards loads of people wrote to me and Mike to say they’d been through the same thing. In our case, it was something that was really rare; it was nature saying, “This one’s not right.” For me, the worst bit was that we had to tell everyone — everyone knew.

At the time, Pete was again very much the protective brother; he was very concerned about me, as was Mike. Everyone was. It was a time when my family came to the fore and I needed them. I had to go through having the baby because it was so far along. I then had another miscarriage really early on. You need to go through a period where you don’t talk about it because it’s too raw but, as with everything, time’s a great healer.

I’ve got a huge amount of respect for Pete, for his work, for his role as a family man. At his wedding to Autumn [Kelly, a Canadian management consultant, in 2008], I was so proud, and it was the same with William and Harry when they got married. I was happy for them to experience the next chapter of their lives. Pete is someone who I’ve looked up to all my life. When I was growing up, he was a great person to have around, he was very level-headed, very calm, considered and grounded. He’ll be there no matter what I need.

Peter

Zara and I always did a lot of stuff together as kids, anything from riding to helping out with the farm — or not helping out with the farm, depending on which way you looked at it. We were brought up in a very active environment. If it wasn’t raining we’d have to be outside; if it was raining we just had to put on the right clothing to go outside.

Most little sisters are annoying and Zara was no exception. She tried to boss me around and tell me what to do. Wild is probably an unfair attribute to attach to her, but she was certainly at the centre of anything that was happening that was fun and boisterous.

I have a huge sense of pride in Zara as an equestrian. What she achieved at the age she did was remarkable. She was never really fazed by — or she never seemed to be fazed by — a major championship or event. People trusted her to deliver in a high-pressure situation.

I’ve worked in sports marketing and sponsorship since I left Exeter University. I’ve spent time at Jaguar Racing, Williams and the Royal Bank of Scotland, where I headed up their global Formula One sponsorship programme.

Harry and Meghan’s wedding was a really happy occasion. The weather and the fact that it was at Windsor helped everyone massively, it just added a slightly more relaxed feel to it. Windsor is such a special place. Autumn and I were the last ones [in the family] to get married there, and it was almost 10 years ago to the day. There’s definitely a different feel to things when they’re not in London or at Buckingham Palace.

Zara and I live 200 yards apart. It’s very difficult to keep my daughters and her elder daughter apart. At weekends it’s always, “What’s Mia doing?” When Mia arrived it was quite difficult to compute. Zara has always been the little sister and suddenly I thought, “Christ, you’ve properly grown up now.” That rather annoying little sister is now a well-respected equestrian and an exceptional mother. If my daughters come close to achieving what Zara’s achieved, I’d be happy.

STRANGE HABITS

Zara on Peter He sings really badly, but my singing voice is not very good either

Peter on Zara I genuinely don’t know. I can’t come up with a single one

#zara tindall #peter phillips #princess anne #princess royal #the times #article #interview

62 notes · View notes

jariktig · 5 months ago

Note

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well; 1,3,6,9,13,23,33

What is your middle name?

[redacted because that is not the sort of thing one shares on the internet.] It's a fairly common and infinitely abbreviable middle-class English name, which completely gives the lie to my folks' assertion that my very unusual (in the UK, it's perfectly common elsewhere) first name was the result of a total failure to agree on a more standard choice and a maternity-ward panic...

3. When is your birthday?

In the springtime, which I very much like. Warm enough for picnics sometimes, cool enough to be able to be out and about in general, sometimes falls on one of the Easter Bank Holidays (or they on it, more accurately.)

6. What's your lucky number?

I don't really have one (it'd be a bit of a professional faux pas, really.) For the sake of giving an answer, let's say i.

9. How tall are you?

5 ft exactly, or 152 cm in metric.

13. What talents do you have?

Fast reading, multi-d visualisation, problem structuring, writing a convincing argument, keeping my temper under duress. Though that last is perhaps more a learned behaviour than a talent...

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Depending on how you define both "met" and "celebrity", yes... As random examples, Anthony Daniels, Stephen Hawking. (The former showed up to sign autographs when the first Star Wars film came out in the UK - I've no idea why they sent him to the cinema in my fairly small town, but there we are. He was very kind to my small-child self. The latter was working in the same department that I did part of my post-grad time in, so we met briefly a few times. Most memorably, I had a steering malfunction that led to a bike/wheelchair near-miss.)

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Toast or overnight oats, fruit, spiced apple tea.

3 notes · View notes

danadriel · 5 months ago

Text

"We vampires all have our little quirks when it comes to feeding,but Danadriel in particular has a questionable taste for victims...she may drink all sorts of blood but her favourite is the blood from pregnant mothers, she loves it...she NEEDS it! for a mortal this may sound particularly heinous, and among vampires is not much different...because vampires are massive hypocrites! even among posh and rich vampire clans the consumption of children blood is widespread...but for some reason pregnant mothers are considered off bounds, each group of vampire invents their own bullshit reason for it but the one I most heard is that when a woman is pregnant her blood becomes filthy, others say its wrong because it interferes with the reproduction cicle of mortal groups and blablabla. Regardless of these arbitrary rules Danadriel's apetite rages on, whenever we reach a new location and she has free time she begins to scout looking for mothers with big bellies, she may be a little incompetent for other activities in our caravan but she surely can track expecting mothers like a bloodhound, nothing scapes her eyes and her nose! Once she finds a suitable prey she usually waits for their sleep time to attack, then its the usual, she uses her magic to pick the locks of the victim's house and quietly sneak in to have her treat, sometimes we also go with her to feed on the other people in the house, its like a family dinner! Me and Tabitha are more pragmatic, we bite,we drink,we leave...meanwhile Danadriel likes to savour the blood slowly and apreciate every single drop, its not uncomom for her to latch on a pregnant victim for like 3 hours...frankly its quite annoying, but she is our boss so we tolerate it, also when she is well fed with her mommy juice she gets so much more agreable, normaly Danadriel is cranky and moody, but give her few drops of mommy blood and she becomes another person!we have this theory that she secrets desire to be a mother and the blood helps her to appease it, but none of us want to have this conversation with her... Her fame as a predator of mothers is so widespread even mortals know about it, mortals and vampires alike nicknamed her "The Mommy Muncher" I find it hilarious but she hates it, she became a bogeyman for future mothers all over the kingdom, I heard in big cities they are puting garlic crowns around maternity yards to ward off possible vampires! people tell horrific stories about how she rips the babies out of the mothers belly to drink their blood and so on...thats absolute bullshit, I've spend 50 years of my mortal life hunting vampires, I've seem what the really nasty vampires are capable of and Danadriel is nowhere near them in the espectrum, she never killed any of the mothers she bit, she dont have the guts to be this cruel even if she wanted. While we are ok with her diet, a lot of other vampires aren't, so it's not uncommon for us to get in trouble because of her,sometimes they just tease her, other times they straight up attack her, several times she just survived because me and Tabitha intervened...turns out we are even better vampires hunters after we became vampires ourselves! hehehe...some may see this as other vampires trying to have the moral highground, but I can see what it actually are, Danadriel used to be a Baroness, the wife of one of the most powerful vampires in the world, now she is destitute and powerless, alot of people wanna keep her that way, this has nothing to do with poor mommies being hurt, its just a very smart and unfair smearing campaing....but still "Mommy Muncher" is very funny." (Grey)

I had a lot of fun drawing this one, but I think I will stop with the streak of pregnant mothers being "mistreated", because I'm not this kind of artist and I don't want to attract a public that appreciates mothers suffering.

#furry #furry art #pregnancy #pregfur #art #pregnant #pregnancy kink #story #fantasy #vampire

4 notes · View notes

eggtartz · 2 years ago

Note

Happy New Year!!! how are the parties going??? (if you celebrate, of course) hope everything is going well!

could request senju akashi married to a reader (fem) who wants to have a baby or adopt one 🥹🥹

a/n : the only party im going is a sleeping party.. lmao this is a cute one anon, thankyou for requesting 🫶🏻

masterlist

senju and you have known each other for a long time now, the two of you meeting when she firstly formed brahman. she saw you as a strong person just like his brother so she had favoured you a lot. after all, you two were the only girls in the gang. however, one day senju received bad news about your wellbeing that you entered the hospital for some reasons.

concerned, senju went to see you to find you in the mother's ward and saw you cradle a baby in your arms "y/n?"

turns out you were seven months pregnant with your ex's child but when he was informed about the baby growing inside you, he left town. lucky for you, the brahman coat was big enough to cover your baby bump so none of the members seem to noticed it. well, not until now. senju sat with you and looked at baby with awe. she always wanted a little sibling granted how she's the youngest. "you wanna hold her senju?"

"her?"

you nodded at her while smiling weakly, feeling sleepy after an exhausting push. when senju went to look at you again, you were already fast asleep. senju felt she was responsible for the baby and you, no way she's letting takeomi and the others go near you. so she went online and learned a lot about babies and stuff the mother needs and go buys them with takeomi's card.

she would visit you and your baby everyday, nourishing every love and appreciation towards you and the baby so you wouldn't get too stressed and would get better. even after you were discharged, senju still visited you. she insisted to buy baby formulas and the baby's clothing for you. she has this one urge to protect you from harm, as if you and the baby was hers.

unbeknownst to the lady, you have developed feelings for her. you have been treated ill by a lot of men in your life, never you actually thought a woman would shower you with lots of love like this. you wondered she might do this over the fact that you were in the same gang. or she did it just because she wants to? your thoughts gets clouded as you were breastfeeding your daughter and you snapped out from your daydream when she nipped a little bit too hard.

as per usual, senju came that day when the home was quiet. she tiptoed into the house so she won't wake up the baby, entering the maternity room silently while glancing at you who's sitting on a chair. senju gestured the lunch she has in her hand and pushed her head towards the kitchen. you nodded and walked slowly, not wanting to wake up the sleeping baby.

"here y/n, chinese. just like you love em!" she opened the plastic container but your usual enthusiasm when you saw food wasn't there. you blankly stared at the food, not saying anything.

"y/n? what's wrong? if you don't like it i cab buy something else, there's a new place right -"

"why are you doing all of this senju? what's the reason of it?"

"what do you mean? im doing this because i care about you"

"and that's all? nothing else?" your eyes looked at hers, finding an answer. senju wasn't stupid, she knew she liked you too but her feelings got the better of her. she's afraid of rejections. she's afraid if she suggests something else that is too fast, you might slip between her grasps.

"yes, that's all" she said ultimately. your tears were threatening to fall as you stood up and went back inside to your room but you felt a strong grip on your wrist.

"i like you a lot y/n. everytime i look at the baby, i think it's mine. i take care of it like it's my baby. i take care of you because i feel like you're mine. like a partner or something. its not just about caring, there's more to it but i don't want to scare you away"

"scare me away? i have seen horrible things senju, scaring me is the last thing you would do"

"i wanna marry you! y/n! would you marry me?!" her abrupt confession stunned you but not for long when you heard your daughter crying again. senju kneeled beside you and took out a red box. you gasped when you realize what the box contains.

"will you marry me y/n?"

years later your daughter has grown up so fast it doesn't feel like it's already been six years. you have married senju when she asked you to, and now the two of you have both retired from brahman and is now peacefully residing in a modest home.

your six year old daughter has been nothing but an angel and today marks the first day where she goes to kindergarten. "mommy! mommy hurry im gonna be late!" your daughter bounced in her seat, sandwich untouched but her school bag already on. "now baby eat your sandwich or you're gonna be hungry. i know you're excited but how are you gonna make friends if you're hungry right?" your wife said while combing her hair back.

your daughter gobbled the sandwich while still bouncing in her seat and excitedly jumped out from her chair. she insisted they have to go now or she won't have any friends. you were trying so hard not to cry, watching your baby grow up so fast. "okay, now what did mommy say?"

"make friends and be nice! if they're mean, kick their butt!" your daughter giggled. you were glaring at senju who acted nonchalant because that was for sure her influence. the both of them bid you goodbye and soon enough it was already noon where your daughter would come home from her first day in kindergarten.

when you heard the car honking, you dropped the dishes you were doing and ran to the door. your daughter jumped to hug you while happily swinging her feet. "mommy i made so many friends!"

she spent the whole day telling what she did, how her teacher looked like, how she had so many friends. she didn't take a nap at all, so when its finally nighttime she finally was knocked out on her bed. senju placed a blanket on her tiny body, kissing her forehead.

"she's a bit lonely don't you think?" you asked.

"yeah. maybe we can get her a puppy or something so she can have a friend to be energetic with"

"what about another sibling?" senju stopped her actions and stared at you. "but we can't?"

"adoptions available darling, i've seen a an orphanage nearby. kids there are nothing but sweet, think we could? adopt one of them?"

"im okay with it as long as you're okay with it too. but what about her?"

"oh i think she's gonna like having some company" you smiled at senju while she kissed the top of your head. your six year old is nothing but an angel, she'd love having another sibling. so the next morning, while she was in kindergarten, the two of you visited the orphanage and saw many kids from all ages. there was this boy who had white lashes like senju but facial structures as yours. he was seven years old, entered the orphanage when's he's three. the two of you agreed to bring him home, to love him, to take care of him like he's your own.

"ma'am? where are we going?"

"oh you poor thing, see we adopted you so now we can go home together. also you don't need to call us ma'am anymore okay? you can call us mommy or mama or anything you like" you glanced at the mirror, watching as the boy teared up but quickly gained composure and wiped his tears. "mom would be nice.." he whispered. you held hands with senju while her other hand was driving, thinking that you two had made the correct choice.

"okay so this is your new home. what do you think?"

"this..? it's so cool! ma- i mean mom, do i have my own room?"

"yeah it's this one. i don't know if you like blue but i just-"

"it's so cool mom! thankyou.." the enthusiastic child sat on the bed while still trying to wipe his tears away. you approached him and took out a tissue to wipe his snot "no need to thank me. if it's anything, i should thank you for existing in my life. now my life feels one thousand times better"

the boy hugged you and you hesitantly hugged back but you felt senju joining in the hug, making the session feel a bit warmer, comfier and feels a lot like home.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x yn #tokyo revengers fluff #fluff #senju kawaragi #akashi senju #tokyo revengers senju #senju x you #senju x reader #senju x female reader #senju fluff

51 notes · View notes

bovine-providence · 2 years ago

Text

A New Addition, Part 4: Althea’s Arrival

Morel is away on a mission when the baby decides to come out.

[CWs: pregnancy, labor, breastfeeding.]

Morel was away on a mission when you felt the first contraction. Cursing under your breath, you had just known this would happen. And his job was very important, which made it all the more frustrating that you couldn’t blame him for going on a mission so close to the baby’s due date.

“I promise I’ll be back before you know it,” he told you tenderly that early morning at the door, before he headed to the marina where his boat was docked. He cupped your cheek, smiling down at you.

“But… the baby’s almost here,” you whined, holding your belly. You winced as the baby kicked hard, rubbing the now-sore spot.

“The sooner I get this mission done, the sooner I’ll be back,” Morel soothed as he pulled you in for one last embrace before tilting your chin up. You desperately pressed a kiss to his lips, and too soon you watched his back as he trudged away to his boat.

Now, you were running through your mental checklist of what to bring with you to the hospital as you awaited the second contraction. A call to the midwife assured you that you still had time before you needed to be at the hospital. Sighing in relief, you opened your texts and scrolled to Morel’s number. Ordinarily, you would send him a text first, but you felt this warranted a call.

You listened as his phone rang but he didn’t answer, before a voice advised leaving a message and hanging up.

“Morel, it’s ______. I had my first contraction, so I’m going to need to go to the hospital in a few hours. Please call me back soon. I love you!”

You hung up, the call doing little to assuage your concerns. You hoped he picked up soon.

———

It was four hours later, and time to head to the hospital. As you finished packing your bags into your car, you anxiously checked your phone; still no response from your husband. It was uncharacteristic for Morel to not answer you in so long. A thought popped into your head, that maybe something had happened to him, but you shook it away. Right now, you had to focus on delivering your baby.

But you couldn’t shake the thought off, not completely. As you put the key in the ignition without starting it, you made another call.

On the second ring, Knov answered.

“______?”

“Knov, yeah, hi.” You took a deep breath as another contraction passed. “This isn’t a social call, I need to see if you know where Morel is. He isn’t picking up.”

You heard Knov clear his throat at the other end of the line.

“I know he’s wrapping up his mission, and he said he would be in a dead zone as he finished up. What’s this about?”

“I’m going into labor.” The line was quiet as you waited for Knov’s response.

“I’ll see what I can do. Stay safe, alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good, I’m about to drive over to the hospital now.” You hung up on your husband’s best friend and started the car before driving to the hospital.

———

You arrived safely at the hospital and had been quickly escorted to the maternity ward, where you currently lay in bed as a nurse periodically checked on the status of your dilation.

You felt alone. And more than that, you felt anxious. Trying to focus on the breathing and mindfulness exercises the midwife had taught you wasn’t working when all you could think about was if Morel was alright, and if he could make it in time. You had your doubts.

The time passed like that until the nurse deemed you dilated enough to begin active labor. Sending one last text to Morel, you nervously were prepared to bring your daughter into the world.

———

Morel wanted nothing more than for his mission on this island to come to an end, unable to see how the timing for his being there could be any worse. He didn’t show it to the others, but he was irritated and wanted to be with his wife as the end of her pregnancy drew near. The connection on this island was spotty at best, so he and ______ had been unable to really update each other very much on what was happening.

He smiled at the man who handed him a message, explaining that there was someone on the ancient landline telephone requesting him by name. Morel hurried over, wondering if you had managed to get ahold of this phone number, but it was more likely to be someone from the Hunter Association.

“Hello?”

“Morel, thank god.” Morel was surprised to hear Knov’s voice at the other end of the line.

“Knov?”

“I’ll keep this brief. ______ called me because she wasn’t able to reach you; she’s gone into labor.”

Morel felt his blood run cold. Shit, of course this would happen.

“I already spoke with the higher-ups, and you can leave now and a replacement will finish up your mission.”

“Thanks.”

“She should already be at the hospital, so head there.”

“Appreciated, Knov.” Morel didn’t bother waiting for his friend’s reply before hanging up and immediately making his way towards his boat. He wasn’t going to hold back in his need to return to your side.

———

Pushing, panting, pain. That was your world at this time. You pushed as hard as you could as the midwife guided your progress through the labor. You panted at the exertion of trying to bring your daughter into the world, and you felt pain that was unimaginable before this moment. Your hands gripped the handles that lined your hospital bed, but were hardly a comfort. You wanted Morel!

At the midwife’s instruction, you pushed once more before needing a moment to collect yourself. You tiredly looked over to the side when you heard a soft footstep, and gasped.

You would recognize Deep Purple’s Nen creations anywhere.

The smoke soldier gracefully stepped to your side and placed a hand over yours, rubbing your thumb.

The midwife looked up in surprise, but you nodded your head.

“It’s alright,” you reassured. The smoky hand squeezed your own in agreement. Somewhere, wherever he was, Morel was keeping an eye on you. You had to remember to thank Knov later.

———

Morel gritted his teeth as he ‘watched’ you in labor through the smoke soldier. It was a poor substitute to his being there, but it would have to do for now. You had seemed so relieved to see Deep Purple’s creation, which made him feel guilty. Just a little longer, honey, I’m almost there.

He was almost at port when your texts and voicemails came through on his phone, tracking the timeline from your first contraction to your anxious text that you wouldn’t be able to use your phone during labor. He briefly scrolled through, finding the relevant info about the hospital and your room number for his arrival.

He couldn’t dally any longer. Leaving a smoke soldier to handle docking the boat, Morel raced towards the hospital.

———

Your eyes were screwed shut in pain; this was the worst yet. The midwife was trying to encourage you to push more, but you couldn’t. It was too much.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks. “It’s too much.”

“______, I need you to try,” the midwife insisted, checking the baby��s progress beyond where you could see beneath your gown.

“I swear I can’t! It hurts!” Your outburst prevented you from hearing the door opening, but you gasped when a large hand wrapped around your own, different from the now-dismissed smoke soldier.

“I know it hurts, pretty girl, but I need you to try.”

The sound of your husband’s voice made you turn to him.

“You made it,” you smiled tiredly at him before wincing as the pain rolled through your body.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Morel assured, his presence helping to ground you.

With the midwife’s guidance and Morel’s comfort, you apprehensively started pushing again.

———

It was another two hours before your daughter’s cries filled the room. Once you and baby Althea were cleaned up and your daughter’s vitals were measured (a clean bill of health), the medical personnel left, allowing you and Morel to properly bond with your newborn daughter. Looking at her, you smiled tiredly. She was going to take after Morel by sharing his silver hair, but she had your eyes, which peered up at you quizzically.

“She’s tiny,” Morel chuckled quietly as he stroked a chubby cheek with his finger. Althea looked surprised at the contact, blinking up at him.

“I’m sure she’ll be big in no time,” you murmured. “And besides, she felt a lot bigger when I was pushing her out.” You looked over, playfully chastising him. “Your genes didn’t exactly help with that.”

“Sorry, can’t help it,” Morel chuckled. You both went into alert as Althea shifted in your arms and her face scrunched up before she began to cry.

“I think she’s hungry,” you muttered as you adjusted so Althea could suckle at your breast. Her crying stopped immediately as she latched.

It was quiet as you both watched your baby have her first meal.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Morel finally spoke up. You glanced at him.

“Hey… it’s part of your job. I knew what I was getting into when we started dating. And you were able to get here in the end.” You shot him a half-hearted smile. “It isn’t easy, but it’s what we knew would happen.”

“I know, but…” Morel shifted as he continued watching his daughter (his daughter!) feed from your breast. “I still wish it worked out better. Well. I’m here now and things on the island wrapped up without trouble, and that’s what matters.”

As Althea got her fill from your breast, you tilted your head up at your husband.

“Why don’t you hold her?”

Morel looked down at you, and then at Althea, before grinning and carefully maneuvering her into his arms. You watched as your daughter stared wide-eyed at him, and how he smiled tenderly at her. She was so tiny in his arms, almost like she’d disappear if she were any smaller. You heard a sniffle and realized Morel was beginning to cry.

“I love you so much,” you heard him mutter to Althea before he raised her higher to plant a kiss on her forehead. She cooed happily at the sensation before settling down in his arms again.

As Morel looked over at you, tears flowing freely from behind his sunglasses, no words needed to be spoken about how loved your daughter would be.

#Hunter x Hunter #HxH #morel hxh #morel mackernasey #morel mackernasey x reader #morel x reader

16 notes · View notes

carinaserafina · 2 years ago

Photo

(camila queiroz, cis woman, she/her ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that CARINA SERAFINA QUEIROZ is a THIRTY-TWO year old MODEL that’s been in Chicago for TEN YEARS. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL 1 with the power of VOICE MANIPULATION. That must be why they’re ASSERTIVE and SPOILED. If you ask me, they remind me of the flash of a camera, voices eerily echoing off walls, a smile that puts you at ease. They are affiliated with NOBODY.

basics;

FULL NAME: carina serafina queiroz NICKNAMES: rina GENDER: female BIRTHDATE: april 25th SPECIES: mutant AFFILIATION: neutral

personality;

ALIGNMENT: lawful neutral ZODIAC: taurus MBTI: isfj POSITIVE TRAITS: passionate, determined, independent, intelligent NEGATIVE TRAITS: stubborn, hedonistic, possessive, materialistic

backstory;

CHILDHOOD/TEENAGE YEARS:

born in rio de janeiro to human parents. she’s the only mutant in her family besides her grandparents and aunt.

her mutation has been known since she was born. her cries echoed off walls in parts of the hospital that were nowhere near the maternity ward.

her parents weren’t particularly happy about having a mutant child. especially one with such an annoying power. it’s safe to say that they rarely got any sleep, and neither did anyone in their neighbourhood.

eventually they had to move to somewhere secluded. every cry was heard, every word she spoke when she started to talk rang through the homes of those within her powers radius. they had no choice but to leave their neighbourhood.

when carina was old enough to understand rules and instructions (around 5/6) her parents hired someone to help her control her mutation. it took a few months, but eventually she could control where to send her voice and who around her would hear it.

the rest of her childhood went pretty normally. she went to school, had friends, loved her mom and dad, and was a normal little girl. her parents grew much more affectionate once she could control her voice.

grew into a typical, rebellious teen. drinking, smoking, piercings, staying out late. nothing major, though. she used her power to amuse her friends at parties, but she never used it to anything bad.

moved from rio de janeiro to america when she was 16. her father got a job at a law firm in new york that paid much more than his current job. her mother got a job at the same firm.

her first two years at an american high school were a nightmare. her english was very limited and broken. it made it hard to make friends. she became very depressed and withdrawn due to this. there were only a few students who understood spanish, and even less student who understood portugese.

ADULTHOOD:

after graduating high school, carina’s parents forced her to attend college to study law. most of her family are lawyers and they weren’t going to let carina choose her own path in life.

when she was 18 (2008), she met levi. he was studying veterinary care, which immediately appealed to her because it meant he loves animals. they fell for each other pretty quickly. her english still wasn’t great, but it was good enough for him and her college friends to understand her. spending a lot of time with levi definitely helped her get better at the language.

the glamour and glitz of new york city had her captivated. she was scouted to be a model while attending a fashion show one day, and she agreed to go for a shoot.

much to her parents absolute disgust, carina dropped out of college after a year or so. she pursued a career as a model and they cut her off financially hoping it would force her to change her mind. it didn’t. so they cut her out of their lives for being a huge disappointment.

in 2011, levi proposed to carina. she said yes! they had a lovely wedding, attended by people they loved. her parents didn’t attend, but her grandparents did. her abuelo walked her down the aisle.

carina was offered modelling opportunities in illinois a few months after the wedding. levi was excited for the move and found himself a job there. they packed up and went on their merry way. they were excited to start fresh somewhere else!

in 2013 carina fell pregnant with their daughter, charlotte. they’d been trying for a baby so they were both absolutely ecstatic. carina had to put her modelling career on hold for a couple of years but didn’t mind. starting a family mattered more.

2014 soon arrived and charlotte was born! carina’s screams were heard in every hallway of the hospital, as well as cussing in spanish. levi and carina were both completely in love with their new bundle of joy.

during 2016, carina goes back to work as a model.

everything goes perfectly until 2018. levi is so dedicated to routine and his job that it drives carina crazy. there is no spontaneity in their lives. everything is about sticking to a meticulous routine. it reminds carina of how rigid her parents were. she doesn’t want this for charlotte.

after too many fights to count, carina ends up sleeping with a guy she did a modelling shoot with. the first time was a mistake, the second time... not so much. he was exciting and passionate and flirtatious. he desired her and gave her attention. it turned into an affair.

carina wanted to tell levi but she didn’t know how. she still loved him, but it wasn’t the same as it was when they first met. the spark had faded to nothing. she couldn’t break his heart, though. he loved her so much, and there was charlotte to consider. their little girl needed her parents together.

one day, levi finds a condom wrapper that he knows doesn’t belong to him. carina keeps the affair going for a further three months until she can’t take it anymore and asks for a divorce because they can’t come back from this. she betrayed him and she doesn’t want him to forgive her. she wants out so that they can both be with people who deserve them.

unbeknownst to her, levi gets drunk that night and casts a love spell on his family. after asking for a divorce only the night before, she wakes up the next morning completely in love with him again. i’m talking romcom, sickening levels of in love.

things continue like this for two years. carina continues modelling, she comes home to her husband and they talk about their day and are as loved up as a teenage, puppy love couple. charlotte is the perfect daughter, too. always making her parents proud and being an absolute delight.

THE STEPFORD WIFE & DIVORCE YEARS:

one day in 2020, levi broke from his routine. he didn’t pay attention to carina for days. because of this, she turned into a frightening stepford wife. huge smile, completely subordinate to levi and charlotte. something felt off, but she couldn’t snap out of it.

after a couple of days, carina approached levi to remind him of their anniversary. she had the exact amount of months and days counted out. this wouldn’t have seemed so strange if it weren’t for her hand oozing blood everywhere.

bones the dog had bitten her, and she hadn’t felt a thing. her smile stayed plastered on her face, she continued her chores around the house, she helped charlotte with her homework.

she waved off the horrible injury, grinning at levi like something out of a horror movie. picture mom from umbrella academy but... eerier because carina isn’t a robot.

realising that he’d cast a love spell, levi came clean to carina. the spell broke and she was furious, disgusted, and felt violated. she couldn’t believe that he’d cast a spell on his own family. she demanded a divorce and left with charlotte.

she stayed with a friend for a couple of months until she found a suitable apartment for herself and her daughter. they moved in, decorated it together, and settled in happily. levi had signed the divorce papers; carina was finally free after being locked under a spell.

in 2021, carina won sole custody of charlotte. the court ruled in her favour due to what levi had done. they couldn’t award custody to a man who would cast a love spell on his own family.

THE CURRENT YEARS:

carina is still living in illinois with charlotte. levi has visitation rights, and she’s fine with that. their daughter needs her dad. she’s not a cruel person, so she would never do anything to get in the way of their time together.

she does supervise the visits because her trust is completely broken; she tries not to hover too much, though. around charlotte, she is civil with levi because their little girl is the most important thing in all of this. they need to be a family unit for her.

outside of visitation, carina avoids levi when she can. she doesn’t hate him, but what he did is unforgiveable. much like her affair. she doesn’t know if he forgave that, she also doesn’t care.

she travels for modelling sometimes. if it’s not during school time, she takes charlotte with her. if it is, she stays with her great grandma and grandpa who moved out to chicago when carina was going through the divorce. they wanted to support her.

carina has had partners since her divorce from levi, but none of them have stuck. she can’t trust them enough to open up to them properly. she’s always worried that she’s going to be trapped in a doomed relationship again with no way out.

she’s completely fluent in english now, but still speaks with a spanish accent as she speaks spanish at home to charlotte to keep her close to her culture.

carina’s personality is very bubbly, very social, fun loving, a little sarcastic, mischievous, and bright. she loves to party when she can, and she loves being around friends as she has minimal family in the city.

#intro

3 notes · View notes