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ryutaria · 1 year ago

Text

Tears and Hearts

Synopsis: With Al Haitham by (Y/N)'s side, she would never have to navigate parenthood all alone...Not when his daughter loved his comfort...

Word Count: 3.5k+

Tags: alhaitham x f! reader, comfort, postpartum depression, sfw, Acting Grand Sage Al Haitham, married life, domestic comfort, a teeny tiny CyoNari, father! Al Haitham, parenthood.

A/N: Comfort because we need it.

A prevalent serenity prevailed over the city as the stars twinkled in the distant skies, faint balls of luminance enchanting to the onlookers' eyes. Darkness had engulfed the world just a few hours ago: rendering the mortal beings to seek solace in the street lamps and artificial mechanisms of luminance invented by the research scholars a long time ago. However, as the sands of the hourglass trickled down the ampule, the city dwellers began to retire to their own residences rendering the streets isolated albeit a few birds who could only hoot freely when the world was at peace yet again.

This was only a natural routine for the world, the moon chased the sun yet they never met unless the eclipse aligned them. However, (Y/N) found her calmness in these small things. The little things in everyday life that are taken for granted by so many... and appreciated by only a few. These things seldom mattered for researchers and scholars of the Akademiya, but as a decorated Professor of Rtawahist Darshan, (Y/N) understood the difference between living and surviving... existence. Moving away from the windowsill of her husband's study, her eyes trailed towards the clock on the mantelpiece: a pretty little vintage clock in the form of an hourglass.

12:17 - read the clock.

(Y/N) smiled as she remembered Kaveh who had gifted it on her second anniversary

"It's so pretty Kaveh!" (Y/N0 exclaimed as she hugged the piece closer to her heart much to the dismay of her husband.

"I got it from one of my expeditions in the desert you know. It -"

"It's just a time tracker (Y/N)." And there goes her husband, the ever logical and very rational Al Haitham as he huffed at Kaveh.

And that was the beginning of another teenage quarrel between the two and she couldn't help but giggle. Time sure flied... Here she was now: Married to Al Haitham for five years as she wore the Nagadus emerald studded platinum loop proudly on her ring finger. Recently there had been another addition to their household, a miniature Al Haitham although a girl child who had turned two months old just a week ago. Another reason why she couldn't resume her scholarly duties yet for the newborn needed attention and care and even when Al Haitham had insisted to help she had told him not to worry for (Y/N) was confident she could handle their little one alone.

"But aşkım I could help" Al Haitham said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear tracing her cheek.

"I'll be fine 'Haitham..." (Y/N) called endearingly as she slowly engulfed his larger hands in her much smaller ones.

However, little by little, all the chores were making her stressed and anxious, the post partum depression in full effect. (Y/N) had been a good mother of course but all the tiredness of household chores and looking after the newborn who wouldn't calm down unless Al Haitham held her was making her all the more agitated. If he was busy or not available she would have to resort to talking to her about Al Haitham's adventures and past shenanigans. Another reason why she was awake in the dead of the night when all the citizens of Sumeru had hit the hay for the day...

The postpartum depression only further added onto her stress for her hormones wouldn't remain stable no matter how much she tried. (Y/N) had asked Tighnari for the medicinal herbs to control them of course but...

"Only if it's very urgent okay, or I am telling Al Haitham what you've been doing" Tighnari scolded, his ears twitching in frustration as he thrusted the herbs in her hand. "They're harmful in the long run you know" he added, concern clear in his eyes.

"Thank you 'Nari... I'll tell him eventually..."

"You said that last time too" Cyno peeked up behind Tighnari, bed hair and a cup of coffee in his hand. This made (Y/N)'s and Tighnari's eyes widen as he quickly turned away from his lover to glare at (Y/N).

"You were WHAT?!" And (Y/N) giggled awkwardly as she sighed.

"That's it! I'm telling the sage what his wife has been doing behind his back!" Tighnari said marching towards his home before (Y/N) grabbed his arm.

With empty promises and white lies she still managed to convince the Chief Forest Ranger to keep his lips sealed, glaring at Cyno when he wasn't looking. The Mahamatra who had been quietly observing the exchange from behind lover slowly giggled as he started to move inside before-

"Only THIS time! You hear me? And WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING HUH? YOU DARE GIVE OFF HERBS JUST BECAUSE I TAUGHT YOU ?!" and Cyno was quick to retreat inside the house with Tighnari hot on his heels.

And (Y/N) was sighed in relief as she made her way towards her home praying to the Archons that her daughter would still be asleep at Nilou's.

However, she wouldn't tell this to Al Haitham for (Y/N) knew how taxing his life had recently become. What with the overthrowing of Azar, the restoration of Lesser Lord Kusanali and Al Haitham being promoted to the rank of Acting Grand Sage was already hectic enough for him. Nilou was only aware how many evenings, (Y/N) had broken down and cried on her visits to the Haitham household.

"Just tell him (Y/N), it would be much better that way " the red-head consoled (Y/N) as she stroked her hair to comfort her.

(Y/N) pulled away a little as she shook her head in the negative, wiping away her tears as she hiccupped a little.

"Can't" she chocked. "Can't add onto his stress Nilou" and she broke down again as her friend hugged her again - closely as her shoulders shook with her hiccups. "Don't...wanna...be...burdensome"

And Nilou felt defeated. Only then she wished that her dearest friend would break down in front Al Haitham just so he could know what she was going through. Al Haitham needed to know this no matter how carefully (Y/N) hid the stress behind her eyes.

She slowly made her way to the nursery to find her daughter asleep and she sighed in relief. Maybe she wouldn't need the herbs anymore, after all she had run out of supplies just a day ago. The little emerald on her daughter's chest glimmered in the moonlight as she breathed in peace and that was enough solace for (Y/N), unaware of the turmoil that was waiting to erupt again.

Al Haitham had come home just two hours ago, his voice devoid of any life as he greeted her and she knew that the Acting Grand Sage was tired. She took the off-coat off his tired shoulders as he slowly entered the kitchen for she insisted him not to go to bed on an empty stomach.

"It's not healthy 'Haitham..." she had called as she kissed his cheek lovingly. Nevertheless, she felt a little guilty on the inside, for what she was doing wasn't healthy either..."Just a little, yeah?" and he had leaned further into her touch as he nuzzled his nose in her palm.

"Only if you feed me, aşkım..." and she smiled as he told her how tiring it was to be the Grand Sage.

"Acting Grand Sage" he had corrected (Y/N) and she laughed as she fed him another bite of the meat stew. And then he had retired to bed, too tired to turn off the lamps and she had sighed before kissing him 'Good Night' as she put out the light.

(Y/N) had just gotten done with all the chores: the laundry, the dishes - a little crying as she hurried off to feed their daughter- putting out clothes in the backyard for she had faith they would be dry by the morning (It had been a little windy all day),dusting through Al Haitham's study: a weekend ritual for it was Friday. After admiring the night view from the window in her husband's study she had walked to the nursery to make sure her daughter was still asleep, sighing in relief for she still was... breathing in calmness with her (E/C) eyes closed and her ashen-hair splayed across the cot.

And now that (Y/N) was thinking of a warm bath to wash off the sweat and dust from her body, her eyes widened as they darted to the cot. Her daughter had stirred awake, throwing another teary tantrum as she quickly reached for her daughter in the cot for she knew Al Haitham was a light sleeper and she wouldn't wish to disturb his peace.

Taking the child in her arms, (Y/N) gently cooed at her, cradling her by the window as she pointed at the stars and moons and little trinkets in the nursery. And slowly (Y/N) started narrating the incident when Al Haitham had forgotten his keys at her home.

"Uncle Kaveh hadn't come home and your father had to sit at the - Aww sweetie, no~~"

The wailing started again as the child's eyes teared up and (Y/N) rocked her a little in her arms praying to the Archons for her to quieten down. And before she knew tears started pricking her own eyes...

Al Haitham could hear the little noises in his household, washing away his sleep as he yawned. Turning to his left he frowned when he was greeted by the cold pillows. "(Y/N)?" he called getting up to sit as he yawned and stretched his arms. Turquoise eyes followed the window and he realized that it was the middle of the night. He could see a faint glow in their bedroom and he realized that (Y/N) must be in the nursery.

The ashen-haired male sighed yet again as he got down from the bed. It had now become a nightly routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night to find (Y/N) in the nursery and when he had asked why she hadn't been sleeping early enough she would lie through her teeth and he frowned again for he didn't know why.

"What do you mean? I just woke up 'Haitham" she had told him a few days ago and Al Haitham could clearly see her lying. When on further coaxing (Y/N) repeated the same thing, he left the topic for he didn't want to agitate the young mother any further, their daughter asleep in his arms. He could see how tired she looked and he wondered if (Y/N) had been taking care of her basic needs. Dark circles decorated (Y/N)'s face as she leaned on the windowsill, her body looking frail and he knew she had lost weight, the stress piling up on her. Skipped lunches and late night dinners proof enough for him.

Al Haitham didn't want to coax out a confession for he had already been warned about postpartum depression and thought that she would eventually talk to him...at her own pace...

Nevertheless, here he was yet again awake by the small noises of his crying daughter and he followed into the nursery. However the sight that greeted him was all the confession he needed.

Tears streamed down (Y/N)'s face as she sobbed and hiccupped while cradling the newborn, occasionally wiping her eyes as she cradled and pleaded to their daughter.

"Please sweetie...j-just th-this time please..." she begged as she rocked the infant further, a choked sob flying past her lips.

Al Haitham's eyes widened as he hurried towards his family, taking his daughter in his right arm as he held (Y/N) close to his chest with his left, a zephyr passing by as his daughter and wife cried into his arms and chest. Slowly he rocked their daughter in the stillness of the night, (Y/N)'s chocked sobs echoing through the household as his stroked her hair gently.

Soon enough, the baby was asleep in her father's arms and gently Al Haitham placed her in the cot before taking (Y/N) in his arms as fresh tears flooded her vision yet again

"H-'Haitham..." she whispered as she cried into his arms, pushing her face further into his chest.

"I know aşkım... I know" he placed a kiss on her forehead as his fingers stroked through her (H/C) tresses. Sighing and thanking the Archons that his wife had finally broken down or else she would have never let him know how stressful this was becoming for her.

(Y/N) sobbed quietly all the while Al Haitham held her and when she whispered a small 'I'm sorry', the male frowned as he slowly coaxed her to him.

"I-I couldn't calm h-her and...you wok-"

"No (Y/N)..." He cooed as he held her cheeks, kissing her forehead in reassurance yet again. (Y/N) still sobbed feeling guilty, regret clear in her (E/C) orbs and he hated seeing her tears.

"I knew all along..." and when her eyes widened he told her all about the small nursery he had custom made near his office just so they could be together while he worked at the Akademiya.

"I was the 'Gem of Haravatat' (Y/N), didn't you think I'd notice?" he said as he wiped her tears away with gentle touches. "Semiotics has a lingering psychology to it too... I was just waiting for you to come in terms with your emotions..." and she sighed into his arms yet again, leaning onto his chest as he continued to tell her how he would be on leave for the next few days and when he resumed his duties he would be taking them along to the Akademiya, the arrangements for them customized by Faruzan herself for she was too tired of Nilou complaining to her about his wife's trauma and stubbornness all the time she went to the Grand Bazaar.

And (Y/N) wondered how all the love in her heart was never enough for her husband.

Kissing his daughter for the last time that night, he walked out of the nursery, (Y/N) fast asleep against his chest as he carried her to their room for a good night's rest.

He smiled as he tucked her in before slipping under sheets as he held (Y/N) in his arms that night after a long time. And Al Haitham's world was at peace yet again... The whispers of the winds were the last things he heard before he drifted to a peaceful sleep, his aşkım in his arms.

@teapartyspilled

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year ago

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The Babymoon

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Brief mention of reader’s hair (Jack just brushing it aside), established relationship/marriage, pregnant reader, dirty talk, aggressively passionate Jack (I’m W E T), degradation/teasing, breeding kink, daddy kink (ofc), spit kink, rough sex, choking, biting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, and some fluffies

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A/N: I apologize for the late post but ya girl has the stomach flu y’all

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Every small grunt forces a ping of guilt through your husband’s gut, both hands working tirelessly to relieve your pain. Truly, he didn’t know the walk would be so rigorous for you, but he should’ve known, should’ve researched more before coming out. But he does his best to make the situation better; he carried all of the bags, both yours and his, set them down in their appropriate rooms and then rushed back to tend to you. Jack led you over to the couch, letting you lay out while he removed your socks and shoes.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” He mumbled, removing his hat while kneeling down. “Didn’t realize it was such a long hike.”

“It’s okay.” Came your sigh of reassurance, head tilted back. “It was worth it.”

And that made him incredibly happy, forcing that handsome smile right across his face. What you said was true, too, coming here was definitely worth it. With Jack’s busy work schedule, and you constantly prepping for the baby, the two of you needed a break, especially before your newborn gets here. And that’s exactly what this trip was intended for. Some time away to relax, reset, and enjoy each other’s presence.

Jack’s lips find their way to your ankles and calves, fingers massaging your sore feet. He didn’t mind doing this for you, did it almost every night, in fact. It became routine for him quite quickly; he could never not care for you. But thankfully, most of the more aggressive symptoms have subsided alongside the beginning of your third trimester. No more intense nausea or bloating, no more awful heartburn. The worst of your troubles have been general muscle aches and pelvic pain, but you’d take that over vomit any day.

“I can feel him kicking.” A sudden laugh comes from your throat, both hands falling to your belly.

Jack grins, reaching up with one of his own hands. “He’s a wild one, in there.”

“You… you think it’ll really change?” All Jack does is look up with confused concern. “Our lives, the way we are, when he comes.”

His casual shrug serves as minimal reassurance. Glancing back down at your feet, Jack clears his throat. “Sure it will, babycakes. But not in a bad way.”

“How do you know it won’t be in a bad way?”

“Because I won't let it be that way.” Chocolate eyes meet yours once again, full of warmth and kindness. “Don’t worry so much, honey. We’re on vacation.” And with that, he’s standing, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “Let me go make you a drink.”

And in this brief lull, you let out a relaxed breath, feeling at ease in Jack’s care. He’d always been such an attentive man, an attentive partner, able to identify and tend to your wants and needs before you even knew what they were. Being observant was in his nature, and branched into every area of his life, even now.

“Here you go, sugar.” Handing you the drink with a smile on his face, Jack turns toward the fireplace, taking it upon himself to light it.

It’s easy to admire him, not only for his incredibly handsome features, but for his wonderfully doting personality. He takes care of you, in every sense of the word. You’ve never felt safe before, like you do with him.

Although the walk up to the cabin was laborious, he’s still glad he chose it. Perfectly secluded and quiet, up in the Kentucky mountains. The entire estate is surrounded by woodland brush and gentle creatures, deers and rabbits and birds. The surrounding peace is everything the two of you have been craving, a place to relax and reconnect. Your travels happened later in the evening, though, the night sky already beginning to grow. And with the stars peeking out from behind the clouds, and Jack lighting the fireplace, the entire situation seemed all too familiar.

“You know…” Looking over at Jack, he stands, briefly clapping the dust from his hands. “This kind of reminds me of our honeymoon.”

“Yeah?” He asks, flashing you that dazzling grin. And then he shrugs, walking over to you. “That was kinda the point.”

Romantic, warm, and beautiful, qualities that mirror both your relationship and post-wedding vacation. It still makes you grin, still makes butterflies erupt inside your belly that Jack is willing to do all of this for you.

“Wanna spoil you, angel.” Jack then hums, brushing aside some hair so he can get to your neck. And then he’s placing a single, sweet kiss, smiling. “How’re you feelin’, hm? Sore? Anything I can do?”

The mention of your honeymoon has his insides stirring, his mischievous nature growing. Alongside these playful emotions comes the presence of Jack’s hand on your thigh, warm even through the material of your pants. He rubs you firmly, giving the plush fat of your legs a slow squeeze.

Spoiling you is genuinely Jack’s pleasure, and he does it because he loves you; and this trait grew tenfold when you decided to carry his baby. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use these situations for his own satisfaction, too. Watching your body grow makes his entire body run hot, your soft and squishy thighs, your round belly and perfectly plump backside. And Jesus Christ, your tits, he never thought they could get any more enticing before you got pregnant. But now? So swollen with your nipples all sensitive and red… he can’t keep himself away. He just can’t, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to on your private getaway.

The slightest, most timid smirk forms on your face, eyes choosing to look away. “Well… you already took care of my feet.” Something in you says that Jack is looking for an excuse, for any simple reason to touch your body, massage it and just feel every inch of it that he can.

“Yeah?” He responds, chestnut orbs traveling down your figure. “What about your legs?”

“They’re fine, not too sore.” Shrugging, you do your best to suppress your laugh. Sometimes, teasing Jack was fun.

Raising a brow, he then asks, “Your hips? Stomach?” Now, he’s running his palm over your swollen belly, chest inhaling a deep breath. Nothing about pregnancy turned him on before, not until he saw you carrying his child. Who knew Jack Daniels had a breeding kink?

“Nope.” Finally turning to face him, you smile innocently. “I’m okay, baby.”

The look on your face is kind and calm, but the twinkle in your eye tells him you’re only playing. And his own expression is growing stern, contemplating his next move.

“You don’t seem to get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

And in one quick motion, Jack’s hand rises to grab harshly at your chest, squeezing one breast in hand. It makes you gasp, makes your body jump with surprise.

“Daddy wants to touch you, sugar.” In an instant, he’s closer, breathing heavier against you. “Daddy wants to touch your sweet body and watch you fall apart in his arms.”

With an exasperated sigh, he’s then falling to your neck, sucking on it with wet lips. His sudden advance has your jaw dropping, lips curling up at the ends. Keeping his hand on your chest, his fingers press into your skin, massaging your tit before collecting his fingers so he can toy with your nipple.

“Jack,” Comes your simple sigh, head falling back.

“I know,” He says, mouthing at your neck. “It feels so good for you, honey.”

His mouth moves to your jawline, licking it, nipping at it, while brushing his thumb across the point of your breast. Even the slightest bit of friction made them hard, whether it be a small breeze or the soft fabric of your shirt. They’d never been more sensitive, and Jack had never been more interested.

“You know I wanna touch you,” Jack mumbles over your skin, hand dropping to your legs. “Fuckin’ tease.”

Cupping you between your thighs pulls a full moan from your throat, head lifting just in time to see him lean into your chest. Jack buries his face into you, right between your smooth mounds while his tongue dips into your cleavage.

“Oh, god, I want this, sugar.” Though, you can barely hear him with his face stuffed between your tits. Lifting both hands, you encourage him, holding him there by the back of his head.

“Daddy,” Two fingers rub firm circles over your covered center, your husband groaning quietly when you grab onto his hair.

“Let me do this, baby doll.”

Nodding rapidly, you gulp. “Okay, daddy. Okay…”

Moving away from you with a swift inhale, Jack lifts himself from your body. Already, his pupils are blown, his pants tented firmly against your thigh. And for a brief second, you laugh. The two of you haven’t even been here for more than thirty minutes and he’s already trying to get into your pants.

“Gorgeous fuckin’ thing.” The praise makes you flush and he knows it, making his way down so he can kneel between your legs. “Get these off, sugar.” And even though he says it like a command, he does it for you, undoing your jeans and yanking them down your legs. The help you offer is brief, a simple lift of your hips. But then you’re falling back down and watching him spread your legs.

“Yeah… this is what I wanna see.” With his gaze focused on your center, Jack groans, tongue poking out to lick his lower lip. “Already leakin’ through your panties…”

In an experimental act, he reaches out, finger swiping over the very center of the delicate cloth. It’s damp, the middle darkened from your wetness. And that makes him grin, makes him fucking throb in his pants.

“You know it, don’t you?” He asks before leaning forward and stuffing his face between your thighs. Again, it takes you by surprise, forcing your legs wider while that curved nose of his nuzzles its way into your crotch. And then, he’s inhaling, hot mouth opening to taste you through your panties.

“D-Daddy,” This time, it comes out as a whine, one hand fisting his hair while the other grabs hold of the couch.

“Ugh,” Lifting himself just enough for you to hear, he says, “Know just how fuckin’ good you taste.” Reaching forward, Jack hooks two fingers around your panties before pulling them aside. And then his tongue is laying out, flattening it to give your cunt one firm, wet swipe.

“Fuck,” Puffing out a harsh breath, your eyes are fluttering shut, feeling the firm shove of his tongue.

“Get so goddamn wet like this, babycakes.” He notes, mouthing at your clit. Lifting a hand, he grabs onto your hip, urging you to sit back and lift your pelvis up a bit. It gives him better access, after all. “Been a goddamn fountain since I got you pregnant.”

And that makes you laugh, hands lowering to brush kindly through his hair. Both of those broad palms then move beneath your thighs, holding them with a secure grip while sucking on your core. It’s already on his face, on his lips and chin and cheeks. And lord, does he love that. He’d willingly drown in this if he could. Getting his face wet with your slick made him the happiest man on earth, made him harder than he ever thought he could be.

“Pretty little whore, aren’t you?” Jack chuckles, leaning back to spit on your folds. “Sittin’ here with my baby inside you, and your body’s still beggin’ for more.” The devil truly came out when he was like this, nothing but offensive praise and aggressive passion.

Running his tongue up and down through your lips, he groans, wrapping his mouth around your sensitive bud. And when he gives the tiniest succession of sucks, pulsing his lips around that tiny pearl, you feel like you’re going to come undone. Every part of you feels light and airy, like you could float away at any second. It’s like you’re buzzing with it, with euphoria and happiness. And he just keeps going, just keeps his head between your legs and his mouth on your throbbing cunt.

Jack knows when to hold you down, he’s done this too many times to not be aware. The grip he gives your hips is bruising, digging in with ferocity while shoving you onto his mouth. Your hips grind against him, head forcing itself back while you cry out for him. It’s a sweet whine, a gasping moan, fingers tightening on those dark brown strands while he fucks his tongue into you over and over again. He did that every time he ate you out, sucked on your clit until he made you unravel and then dove down to collect what he’d worked so hard for.

“I’m so fucking in love with you.” He’s out of breath, reaching for your jaw before smashing his mouth to your own. Instantly, the combination of his spit and your slick is running down your chin, legs shaking gently while Jack consumes you from above.

“I’m, I - baby.”

“Get up,” Jack grunts, hauling you up by your arms. “Gonna get you in bed so I can see the mess you made for me.”

Keeping his grip on your bicep, he pulls you alongside him, hurrying down the hall. The master bedroom isn’t far, which your shaky legs are thankful for. His demanding words and actions make everything seem so quick, like you don’t have a choice in anything that’s going on. And truthfully, you want it that way. You want Jack to make the decisions, you want to lie down and do whatever he wants you to.

Shoving you forward, he watches you stumble onto the bed, a bright grin on your beautiful face. Taking a beat, he pauses, standing above you before beginning to remove his shirt. And while keeping that deadly gaze, you move backward on the covers, shimmying out of your panties.

Eyes dipping down, he nods toward your chest. “Take off your bra.”

While unbuttoning his shirt, he watches you complete his task, tossing the last bit of your clothing onto the floor beside your bed. And just in time for him to shove his pants down, too.

“Mine,” He suddenly says, crawling over you on the bed. “Mine - all mine.”

Again, he’s obsessing over your breasts, shoving his face between them while his hands work the rest. His body rubs against you, cock wet and leaking on your thigh. It makes your insides burn bright, seeing his overt attraction for you. He gets so passionate when he’s like this, so vulnerable yet assertive, confident.

“Let me get my fingers inside you.” That breathy voice says, licking two of them before dragging them down your chest.

While his tongue lays out, toying with your nipples, Jack’s fingers dip inside your entrance, already loose from your orgasm. So sweet and welcoming, velvety and warm. And all you can do is writhe beneath the weight of his body, turning your head to kiss his cheek and neck. The curl of his fingers practically makes you shriek, feeling your body react on its own accord.

“So sensitive like this, baby.” It’s lazy, the way he licks your nipples, teeth dragging over the red and puffy peaks. And then he’s sucking on them, sucking on the swollen swell of your tits and groaning like he’d just cum in his goddamn pants.

“Tell me you want more.”

“I want it,” Nodding, you gasp, swallowing dryly. “I want more.”

Your hips cant upwards in time with his fingers’ movement, hands grasping for his bicep and back. But it’s not enough, not for him.

“Tell daddy you need him, c’mon.”

“Daddy, please.”

“Nuh-uh,” Breathily, he chuckles. “Use your big girl words, sweet pea.”

“I need you, I need you, daddy. Please, please.” In an attempt to convince him, you lower your hand, finding him laying heavy over your thigh. The firm grip you give his cock makes everything slow down for him, his eyes shutting alongside a small hiss. Even his fingers fall slack, chest dropping against your own.

“Touch me, baby.” It’s a quiet command, one said while he nods. “Touch daddy.”

Knowing that he’s happy with this, you grin, running your fist up and down his length. Glancing down between your bodies, Jack watches, eyeing the way your thumb swipes over his tip.

“Oh, fuck.” Shaking his head, Jack sighs, hips rocking into your grip. “Always need you like this, sugar, always…”

You can’t deny that it’s been hard these past few weeks, hell, these past few months. Being intimate hasn’t been a priority for the two of you, unfortunately; stress just took control of your lives. Jack’s career was becoming incredibly demanding, leaving you to care for the house and your unborn baby all on your own. Setting up the nursery, going to doctor’s appointments by yourself, feeling the baby kick without your husband there to experience it, somedays, it was just heartbreaking for you. But you’re here now, you’re together, without a single distraction in sight. You’re his, and he’s mine. That fact is always in your mind.

Taking himself from your hand, he settles between your legs with a relieved breath. Jack’s love for you consumes him, his entire body and mind. He just wants to wrap himself around you, looping his arms around your back while burying his face in your hair.

“Jack,” It’s said quietly while you hold him, stroking his hair.

Lifting one hand, it rests on your left breast, Jack’s hips moving to push into you slowly. The way you open up for him is an absolute dream, a breathless laugh spilling from his mouth as it happens. And when he pinches your nipple, you whine, forcing a jump from his cock as it rests inside.

“You just need a lil’ extra somethin’, don’t you, sweetheart?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but you’re not sure what he means.

Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, Jack smiles brightly, lips dragging over the skin as he begins to move. So he doesn’t hurt you, the hand on your chest moves to the bed, placing all of his weight onto it.

“Puttin’ my dick inside you just ain’t enough anymore. Was it ever?”

“Daddy, what…” The steady pump of his cock between your legs is making you feel delirious, flooding your body with a sense of euphoria you’ve never felt before your pregnancy. “What do you mean?”

“Remember what we used to do, sugar? You remember?” Heat creeps onto your cheeks as he says it, legs lifting to his waist as the arousal in your body heightens. “You remember what you did in my office?”

“B-Baby,” He knows this gets to you, knows it hits right to your core.

“I remember,” Jack continues, licking at your neck. “Bendin’ you over my desk, fuckin’ you dumb over my paperwork. Or how ‘bout the times you sucked me off while I talked to Champ, huh? What about that?”

Every firm shove forces the tip of his cock against your most sensitive spot, the thin tissue that just begs for his presence. And that, alongside those devilish words, is making you drip around him.

“Crawling on your knees for me in my jet,” He’s throbbing inside you, words becoming airy as he reconnects with your body. “Shit,” Hissing harshly, his eyes pinch shut. “Fuck me, honey. You remember rubbing yourself over me? Over my new goddamn boots because you were so horny?”

“Fuck, yes.” Exposing your neck even more, you toss your head back, feeling Jack’s teeth make their own special imprint.

The memory is all too erotic, something you honestly can’t believe you did. Jack made you stupid; he was so goddamn attractive, so goddamn charming, that you’d do anything just to please him. Even if it meant humiliating yourself, you’d do it just to get off.

“Hm…” You sigh out, placing your chin on his knee and closing your eyes in contentment.

“How’s that feel, honey?” He asks, reaching down to tilt your chin up to him.

Your eyes open, lids already heavy with adoration and lust. Jack’s smiling down at you, his expression soft and caring.

“So good,” Comes your contented hum, more than happy to finally have contact with your lover.

“Yeah?” He whispers, “Then keep goin’. Make ‘em all wet and shiny for me, honey.”

You whimper quietly at his words, moaning lightly as you lean forward to begin moving your hips. The movement of your soft skin, your folds brushing over the smoothness of the material, only furthers the waves of heat that begin flowing through your core.

“Go on,” He urges, “entertain me, sweet pea.”

“God, do I miss that. Havin’ my own little slut on tap.”

“Daddy, I’m, I’m still here.” It sounds pathetic, like you’re begging, trying your damnedest to prove to him that that part of you hasn’t left.

“Oh, I know you are.” Lifting himself from your body, Jack glares down at you, one hand lifting to grab your jaw. “I know you’re there, babycakes. Comes out every time I’m inside you, every time I give you a demand. Why don’t you show me?”

At this, your brows raise innocently, unable to speak from the grip he has on your jaw and chin. And amidst your silence, he says, “Show me how well you still listen to me… and open that mouth.”

As soon as his grip allows you to, your lips are parting. That strong hand drops to your throat then, Jack’s face coming down to drip a cool trail of spit onto your tongue. But he’s not done then, not until spitting forcefully onto your mouth. And the moan you exude is nothing short of whorish and erotic, the liquid sliding over your tongue.

“Yeah…” The word is said with a cocky sense of power, that gorgeous half-smirk crawling onto his face. “You just can’t get off to that vanilla shit anymore, can you, babycakes? You need it rough, don’t you?”

That hand is still on your throat, and only tightens as he speaks. With every thrust, his pelvis slaps against you, forcing your legs wider, and forcing himself deeper.

“Need daddy to manhandle you? Choke you? Hold you down and bruise you?”

Burying himself inside your cunt, you can’t help but feel so perfectly full, the veins along his shaft rubbing delightfully against your inner skin. It feels so natural, this connection, so natural and sensual. But nothing about it is sweet; everything about this encounter screams salacious and indecent.

“Yes,” Comes your little plea, nodding. “Yes.”

Each shove rocks your body against the mattress, the strength of Jack’s body surrounding your entire presence. He feels so warm and strong, soft when he needs to be and mean when he wants to be.

“I love this,” Jack admits, “Love nothing more than this; connecting with you. Look at you, just look at you.”

Lowering himself with a flurry of rapid breaths, he presses his mouth to your cheek, expressing his adoration for you. “You’re so good for me, my pretty baby. So pretty like this, sugar. Fuckin’ gorgeous when you take me.”

“I need you, can’t, can’t live without you.”

“Never, sugar.” Gasping against the side of your head, Jack’s chest stutters, a deep groan slipping from his lips. “Always here for you, with you.”

When he gets like this, you can’t help but wrap your legs around him, tightening every muscle and pulling him in. And he lets you, falling into your embrace with a deep moan of gratification. It consumes him, the pleasure of it all, of releasing inside your wonderfully welcoming body. Jolting slightly above your beautiful and giving form, Jack moans helplessly, feeling his release wash over your walls. Every spurt is accompanied with a sharp shudder, arms moving to encircle you fully. Humid grunts pass over your ear, his mouth hanging open as he experiences the sensation of it.

“My sweet girl.” Your husband finally says, his body tingling with every ounce of happiness that he has. His hold is full of pure, unwavering love, full of absolute worship and adoration. And beneath him, you relax, wanting nothing more than to rest with him in this peace.

Kissing your head, Jack whispers sweetly, “Perfect little thing.”

It’s in this moment that you feel every single worry melt away, every anxious thought about Statesman and the baby. Those negative notions serve absolutely no purpose to you, not when Jack is here, not when he cares for you so consistently and so openly. With Jack, you’re safe, you’ve never known otherwise. And nothing could ever take him away from you.

#daddyyy YESSSSS #YES #Daddy Whiskey #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey x you #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x female reader #Agent Whiskey smut #Daddycember #Daddycember 2023 #Daddycember '23

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fluffle-writes · 4 months ago

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hello! I loved the weirdcore au, such a cool idea, i wanted to ask, how do vil and rook clean their wings? taking a bath seems kinda risky, imagine the pain of getting soap on multiple eyes! Actually their self care routine as a whole makes me curious, does vil still wear makeup here? Or he just takes care of his hair?

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

I AM AWAKE AND READY TO TALK MORE ABOUT MY AU :D

Vil and Rook's wings! They definitely need to work around the eyes, but they have third eyelids for each of their eyes - similar to crocodiles! This allows them to fly with them open to observe the ground beneath them - which can assist in hunting or searching for something. It can also mean that irritants are more difficult to get into their eyes - but there are still problems with using cleaning agents on their wings.

Generally though, they actually don't use soaps on their wings! A thorough enough job of preening with clean water washes away any accumulated dirt, blood, dust, or dead skin cells away well enough - and damaged feathers come loose quite easily to be pulled out during preening sessions. Not to mention, soaps can strip the wings of natural oils that protect their skin and feathers.

(Chances are, if you visit in the evenings, you may come across groups of Pomefiore students preening one-another's wings in little cliques - as it's a common bonding activity for individuals with feathered wings.)

As for the rest of their self care routines, it would really need to differ from person to person... I'll speak more in depth about how their features work as well as how they maintain their appearances under the cut.

Vil's flesh has an almost malleable feel to it - it's almost slime-like to the touch but without any residue left behind, while also having the texture of human skin. Looking at him closely enough reveals that his body is actually semi-transparent. He uses pigment sacs - similar to octopi - to imitate the appearance of galacies on his skin's surface, but he can just as easily manipulate light to alter his appearance as he wishes.

Because of this, his skin may be more fragile and need more gentle cleansers and a thorough moisturising routine - which Vil keeps on top of, of course. Additionally, although I was unable to include it in his sprite edit, Vil has near-invisible glass-like talons instead of fingernails and toenails which he keeps well maintained and filed sharp.

Vil's hair is odd in the sense that it's more like liquid than hair. It's quite viscous, but leaves no residue when touched like his skin, and anything that touches it can pass through with little difficulties aside from the viscosity. Touching it can leave a tingling (almost electric) sensation in the hands, and ingestion can spell death due to the toxicity of the oils and hormones Vil's body produces to ward off danger. It doesn't need cleaning as it maintains itself for the most part, but Vil often adds ground up gold and gemstones to colour it how he wants to.

His wings and tail, as mentioned above, are kept neat and tidy through preening sessions with Rook and, more recently, Epel. He has glands that secrete natural oils under his feathers, which can be spread across them to moisturise them properly and strengthen them.

(Fun fact - When Vil was a newborn, he looked more like an amoeba with six stubby little limbs (which later grew into his wings!) He learned how to maintain a much more structured body shape and control his pigment sacs like his father later on in life)

Rook's self care routines are more focused on his animalistic traits - polishing his horns and brushing through his fur any time it gets a bit too unruly. He also often applies moisturising oils to the palms of his hands, as they are similar to paw pads that foxes have and need more tlc to keep them soft and reduce irritation/itchiness.

Bathing habits of his are similar to Vil, vetoing the use of soap on his wings but still using them on the rest of his body. Due to his fur, though, Rook may have a hard time getting thoroughly dry after without help - although he often opts to shake himself off and flap his wings to create wind to help him dry faster. Because of this, bathing has to be an evening task for him - lest he end up with skin irritation from trapped moisture.

(Vil spent a god awful amount of time combing through Rook's fur and applying potions to his skin to prevent irritation when he first moved to Pomefiore - and since then Rook's always been manhandled a little bit if Vil suspects he's falling slightly behind on that area of self-care. He is NOT sitting with Rook in his lap for hours untangling that mess of a coat again - his shedding in the spring is bad enough!)

Epel needed a LOT of TLC when Vil first spotted him - his body, hair, and wings are all made of a marble-like material. Had he practiced self care often enough, Epel would have handled the cold climate in Harveston perfectly well. However, he would often insist that applying protective wax and oils to maintain smooth skin was unnecessary since he could handle the cold just fine without it.

This meant that, once he arrived at NRC, what would have been smooth and well cared for features was instead rough around the edges with damage done by the cold and the snow from years spent outside in that environment. Epel's self care routine is chock full of revitalising tinctures designed to help his skin regain it's strength and smoothness, as well as a special type of beeswax to protect him from any more damage - which is also applied to his horns.

As for cleaning, soap and water works well except for on his wings - which instead has a special cleanser Vil made with keratin-boosting properties to ensure that they're strengthened properly without interfering with Epel's ability to fly.

(Epel himself is a little miffed with all of the routines Vil made him keep up with after he joined Pomefiore, but will admit that he feels much better a lot of the time now that he's actually properly taking care of himself.)

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #TWST Weirdcore AU #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #please let me know if you'd like me to elaborate on anything! I'm happy to talk more about this AU lol

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macravishedbymactavish · 1 year ago

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Alex Keller SFW Headcanons

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare Masterlist | 18+ MDNI |

Headcanons for the man who has me in a literal and metaphorical chokehold

He is a straight up a nerd. Think: Star Wars, lego, Star Wars Lego!

Sitting on the floor, clad only in a pair of baggy plaid pajama pants surrounded by lego pieces. Eyes shining as he scanned over the instructions, soul feeling free and finally alive as he snapped the pieces together.

Soft sounds of the original trilogy playing through the speakers from the TV. Ignoring the nagging pain in his lower back as the child in him squealed in delight.

Another component completed. Now, onto bag 4.

Prefers to clean up while or after you cook, rather than cooking himself

Tending to the food in the pan, he reached around you to grab the discarded utensils. Placing them in either the dishwasher or sink; making soft comments about how many spoons you decided to use for one meal.

"If you don't like it, you're more than welcome to cook for me," you teased, watching as the man froze. A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he pointed a spoon at you.

"If it weren't for me, you'd be out of spoons 5 steps ago"

Horrible (like "reminder on the phone but will still with upmost confidence say the wrong date") with dates. Appointments and anniversaries, he's not very good. He blames it on his brain shutting off from not being in survival mode when at home, but genuinely feels bad

"Ma said they have something for our anniversary and will pop over to drop it off closer to the day. I told her it's on the 18th, so Saturday would work better, " Alex explained mindlessly, leaning back against the counter. Eyebrows raising when you froze.

Smiling softly, you whispered, "Sorry, what day is our anniversary?"

"The 18th. No, the 17th, " his eyebrows scrunched together as he thought. "No, actually 18th. Final answer"

Leaning over, placing one hand on his cheek as you gave him a soft peck on the lips. "It's the 21st, actually"

Takes FOREVER to get ready for anything (especially fancy date nights and events)

Sitting on the edge of the tub, you watched in awe as Alex continued getting ready. Shirt still unbuttoned, belt not yet threaded through the loops of his pants; and he wasn't even halfway through his hair styling routine.

Multiple bottles and products lined the counters, all of which in use at one point or another as you sat and watched. Your outfit was ready and laying on the bed for when he was done with his hair.

After so long together, you'd become efficient in the timing of when to start getting yourself ready for a night out. Depending on which hair product he reached for next.

He has a super dark sense of humor

"Hey, since you have a ton of tattoos," you started, leaning against the doorframe as he fussed with his hair. "If a shark came and bit your arm off, would you be more upset about losing the arm or the tattoos?"

"The tattoos," he answered immediately. Pausing after to look himself up and down, nodding. "Definitely the tattoos"

Terrified of holding babies (despite being a total natural). He loves interacting with younger kids though.

"Uncle Alex!" The young boy squealed, running over and wrapping himself around the man's legs. "I'm a brother now, too!"

Smiling down at his nephew, Alex laughed. Hoisting the boy up into his arms as he listened to the excited stories about his new little sister. Nodding along with genuine interest until the baby was brought over to him.

"Be fair. You can't just cuddle your nephew. She'll get jealous, " his sister, Ellie teased. Holding the newborn out.

Freezing in place, as his nephew squirmed out of his grasp. Loudly encouraging him to hold the baby. Looking over at you, Alex sighed when he realized he was outnumbered.

"What if I drop her?" He whispered, fear flashing behind his eyes as the small bundle was passed over to him. The girl remained asleep as she was cuddled by tense arms.

"The obvious answer is don't." Mrs. Keller walked up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. Pressing into the tense muscles. "And relax. Things are more likely to go wrong when you're stressed out and stiff like a board"

Appreciates a good horror or FPS game - but nothing beats couch co-op and cuddles.

Snuggled against your side, he yelled nonesense as your characters scrambled around the screen. Grabbing boxes and flinging them onto the truck.

"What?!" You both laughed, watching as his character hoisted an animal into the air. "I have the chicken!"

"We'll I'm moving an entire sectional by myself, so drop Cluck and help me!" you elbowed him lightly

Absolutley can't fall asleep in silence, no matter how hard he tries

He blames a lot of this on his childhood, the sound of clocks ticking throughout the house driving him mad. Reminding him of the sleep he wasn't getting.

Even now, years later, as an adult, he tells you that if it's too quiet, he can still hear the distant ticking. He doesn't tell you that the silence also brews night terrors; that's not a side he wants to burden you with.

On the nights when he falls asleep alone, he'll usually have a movie or YouTube video playing in the background. If you can't fall asleep to a lot of noise, he'll opt for a fan or one of those sleep background noise tracks.

Unlike some of the other COD men -- I think he'd be the opposite of a human furnace. He'd be like a reptilian creature looking to sap your warmth at any given moment.

He makes a point to cuddle against you, as much contact between your bodies as possible. Almost like a human backpack.

"You're so warm," he sleepily mumbled, pressing his face into your back. Humming in content at the feeling of your body warming his.

His hair lightens so easily during the summer (In MW2019, he was dirty blonde. MW2022, as an operator he has dark brown hair)

"You're like two totally different people," you laughed, fingers running through the light locks as he rolled his eyes.

"It'll be back to normal by halloween," he half-heartedly grumbled. Adjusting the sunglasses on his face, holding back a smile.

100% cries during movies, has no shame. Especially since it gets extra cuddles from you (even if you lightly tease him for it)

Your heart aching within your chest, the protagonist grieving their loss. Sighing softly, you silently reached forward, grabbing the box of tissues from your coffee table. Holding the box up to your boyfriend, who was trying (and failing) to hide his soft sniffles.

Head falling against his shoulder, feeling his arm tighten around you. His chest shaking with emotion he was trying (and failing) to hide.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2019 #call of duty alex #alex keller #alex keller headcanons #alex keller x reader #alex keller fluff #cod mw #cod mw2019

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rottendollface · 1 year ago

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The Horror of Our Love. Chapter 1.

Co-author: @bigtimesalt8196

Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.

Image: Picsart AI.

Warnings: NSFW; Ajax is older than in canon; broken time line and age line for the sake of plot; female virgin reader, incestuous relationships, family abuse, misogyny, mentions of rape, unprotected sex, black magic, blood and flesh magic, body horror, sacrilegious, Foul Legacy Childe, breeding kink, miscarriage, marriage, grooming, pregnancy, erotic lactation, murdering, abyssal soulmates, serfdom system in Snezhnaya; all the characters are adults; 18+.

Childe remembered his childhood with sadness: the world around him was silent and colorless; his soul, timid and gentle, couldn't find needed endorsement, as no one seemed to care about him and his role in this doomed world either. He was dreaming about adult life: the life where he would be significant and needed like all the adults around him, the life where people would listen to his words and would be interested in his opinion.

Father held the Bible in his right hand, and all of his kids, except Ajax, who preferred to hold it in his left hand, did the same. Father told that sin couldn't come into their house, and everyone believed it, and routine in Ajax's house was calm and silent under the strict oversight of ikons of Tsaritsa in a shy light of lamp.

Childe grew up in the village among the boundless sea of snow and sharp icicles, which were hanging from the roofs and trees like lethiferous rocks that were covering the underwater ground. Rural life was simple and boring: the biggest part of the year people were waiting for the short summer to come to get the previous harvest and sow a new one. In Snezhnaya everything did its best to adapt to the hard climate, and Childe still saved in memory how he was helping father in haymaking time, reeking with sweat and feeling how his skin was burning from unusually hot and mighty Sun. After haymaking Ajax's hair became dull and bright, and his body remained tanned until winter came to cover everything with a solicitous blanket of snow, and nature was resting until new summer – again and again in a sacred circle, despite all the worries and tragedies of human life.

Ajax was too young to experience death: one of newborn brothers died on a second day of his small life – Ajax remembered a dark bundle and a little coffin that looked like a toy boat that he used to play with when he was little; for him it was confusing and seemed like a game: Ajax couldn't understand why the cheerful face of mother became dark, and her eyes seemed to be blind to her other kids. She remained silent for a couple of days, but she didn't stop working – she tried to distract herself from grief with hard work, and her portly strong body was unusually strange for Ajax. The older brothers told him: it wasn't the first time someone of her kids had died, but mother was a very sensitive person. Tears of pity to his mother still were bursting from Ajax's eyes every time he recalled this memory.

Ajax had to grow up when you were born: all the elder brothers had already left, and he was the next one to take responsibility for his family on his fragile shoulders. He didn't like that his family had to work for some noble: parents worked for days and nights for someone who didn't care to raise salary, and the same faith was waiting for everyone in his family, as all of their breed were peasants. Mother told Ajax to be grateful: the landowner they worked for was a good man who visited the village rarely and stayed at the capital. Their duties weren't hard – he just needed to work and be happy for surviving another day. Ajax liked to take care of cattle and horses, and chop firewoods; his favorite were fishing and salting the part of catch which his family was allowed to keep for themselves – but the fact that some man, who was lucky enough to be born in a different social class, was owning Ajax's whole family made him feel sick. They didn't have to worry about the earth, and nobles were obligated to take care of their peasants, but the law was on noble's side: nobles were allowed to deprive their peasants of property and send them out of the village, nobles could punish their peasants as much as they wanted. There was a way to get out of life like this – and Ajax was determined to end it.

Ajax was confused when father yelled at him and punched him at the back of his head: he told Ajax that it was just a whim, just an eagerness of youthful maximalism and inexperience in life. While father was worried about the money and all the taxes he would have to pay from leaving their master, Ajax was thinking about human dignity and the value of his sisters and brothers as a person, not forced labor. Ajax missed the moment when the relationship between father and him started to worsen, but the awe and respect he once had to his father now were gone, and irritation took their place.

'Old man knows nothing about life,' Ajax used to tell his older brothers, who lived in the two nearest houses in the same yard. 'Times have changed, but he is too stubborn and stupid to understand this.'

Older brothers, Timofey and Gleb, weren't good people. When the veil of childhood fell off Ajax's eyes he realized the bitter truth: Timofey and Gleb were thinking about heritage only and were splitting the house, cattle, horses and everything that belonged to their parents already without thinking about younger siblings. Timofey wanted to own all the horses and the workshop in which father was making leather. Gleb didn't care about horses; he wanted only the workshop as the most successful business of their family. Both Timofey and Gleb were apprentices, but the father promised to bequeath the workshop to one of them.

They turned out to be ungrateful vultures who were arguing about the heritage almost every dinner with their alive and healthy father sitting right next to them. It was useless to foster them now, so father only looked at both of them with a heavy gaze and kept silent. When the argument turned into a fight, he usually just punched the dinner table, and they calmed down immediately, changing the topic to bring father's wrath on someone else – Ajax was the favorite victim before your birth. Father had a heavy hand and rather rancorous mind. He punished his kids physically in a nasty, painful manner. He remembered all the misbehavior of his kids and waited until the end of the week: on Sunday, right after weekly visit to the local church, he called the names of a guilty one and brought a rod that was moistening in saline for a couple of days. The execution was simple: the guilty sat (or layed – everything for the comfort of his children) on the bench, while father was whipping them mercilessly. For crying and screaming, he added whips; for keeping silent, too. It was impossible to seek leniency and the total amount of whips dependent on father's mood. Once, he was so mad at Ajax, so he broke three rods on his back – and the scars still didn't heal. That's why father was respected in the village, and no one could say a word against his: Ajax's family was the example of perfection, a beautiful wife, and obedient kids who treated elders with honor – the dream of every snezhnayan man and the indicator of a mighty husband.

Everything went wrong when you were born. You brought your mother difficult childbirth and painful labor, an eclipse closed the Moon and put the earth into the darkness the moment after all the households heard your first cry. Mumbling of the old midwife; exhausted, thick body of mother and bowls with reddish water because of bloody towels that were thrown into it offhandedly: the atmosphere of your first birthday was torturing.

'What are you doing here, huh? Stop hanging around and get lost! Walking here like flies to manure...' Midwife pushed Ajax with her shoulder, walking through the door with one of the basins in her flabby old hands. 'Not a year without your mother bringing another unlucky soul in this world.'

She gave an unfriendly laugh, and Ajax remembered her cracking dry voice. Ajax heeded and heard the old midwife mumbling to herself. 'I've never seen such an ugly birthmark on a newborn girl before.'

Father was absent; even mother took you in her hands reluctantly, more from obligation than from sincere desire.

You were growing up just like Ajax – forsaken by everyone and regularly scolded by father. But there was one thing different from his childhood: you weren't allowed to leave the house no matter what. Your parents didn't care about giving you education or socialization, seeing it as an unnecessary option, harmful even. You were naturally talkative and curious, and it was a big problem of yours. Adults were waving you away as you irritated them with endless questions; no one wanted to spare a moment for you, so you played alone with old broken toys that you got from Ajax.

Ajax's heart ached badly every time he found you alone in the back room of the house (which was used as a storage for newspapers and books), or saw you waving your tiny hand to him through the window when he was working outside. You had nothing else to do but to watch your relatives working in the yard through the frosted window, or sit in the back room and imagine your toy soldier (a poor soldier who lost his hand when he belonged to Ajax, and who's uniform became dull and dirty long ago) reaching the highest peaks of the book mountains to save his princess from a terrible villain. There wasn't enough money in the family to buy you new toys, so Ajax carved out a wooden kitten and gifted it to you. You didn't get presents very often, so you were very happy to get such an ineptly made toy. All the cuts and wounds from thorns healed immediately after Ajax had seen a smile blooming on your face and felt you hugging him. He was the only one who cared about you, and Ajax could tell that he raised you and replaced you both parents.

You loved him more than any other relatives and had a natural girlish desire to marry your older brother after growing up. It didn't trouble Ajax at all – he played your silly game gladly, never seeing a problem in it. He knew it would end soon, but for now, he kept entertaining you by telling you stories about beautiful brides and true love they had for their grooms.

Ajax felt strange by the fact that he was treated like a beloved son by mother, but you were a stranger to your own family. Maybe because of this you looked different from everyone, and the difference in your appearance was showing clearly with every year: your exceptionally noble features and inborn elegance and grace of moves didn't match the family's dense bodies with broad shoulders and strong limbs. You were such an angelic, precious little creature that Ajax couldn't even imagine you drawing water on your scrawny shoulders or damaging your subtle palms with cleaning and sewing. With every year of your life, you became more dreamy and quiet; youthful charm was slowly taking over children's carelessness. But the one special thing about your behavior had never changed: you had always run to hug Ajax every time he went home.

You didn't attend school, so Ajax taught you to read and count, he gave you his textbooks, and tried to explain everything he had known – he wasn't a disciplined student and his knowledge was rather average, as he was oriented on providing for his family and working as a horseman at noble's lands. Ajax did his best to teach you important moral things: piety, love for your homeland, and many others — but for a rowdy teenager like him, it was an unbearable responsibility. For your own good, you were a fast learner, and soon enough, you had the same level of knowledge as Ajax and didn't need his moral guidance. The back room became your favorite place, and you spent hours here, searching for an interesting book or a newspaper with a catchy title to read and learn something new.

Your family was shorthanded, and your parents had to let you leave the house to shovel snow, clean up the kennels, and help Ajax on the stable. Guests almost never visited your parents. If they did, they had to notify them and receive permission – and during friendly gatherings you were hiding in your room by order of father. You didn't question such a strange behavior of your parents: you thought it was normal and everyone lived like this.

You had domestic duties like cooking or mopping floors mostly, but sometimes Ajax taught you how to take care of horses. He made you friends with the calmest and the most sociable one – you were afraid of it at first but the way the old horse ate treats from your palm, tickling your skin with its lips, helped you to forget all your fears. The horse's name was Iskorka, and it gladly took you on its back, admitting you as its equestrian. Iskorka and many other horses liked Ajax, as he was a good ostler. They had always had enough hay and treats, and Ajax bathed them carefully, brushed their manes, cleaned and trimmed their hooves regularly. Their stalls had always been cleaned, and not a mess could be found on the stable – that's why horses from your family were popular between villagers and people bought them gladly. It was a strong, hardy, and sociable breed, so they were used both in field work and riding. A true pride of the family.

Ajax's favorite routine was breaking wild horses: he adored the adrenaline and sense of danger that made his body cover with shivers. Ajax got hurt a lot of times during the process and wasn't afraid of wounds or any critical situation that could happen. Sometimes you were lucky enough to see him in these moments: it was surprising for you to watch your gentle and kind brother acting so powerful and aggressive as the thrill blurred his mind. The act of dominance Ajax was showing against a wild animal didn't match the way he behaved with you, and you didn't want to see him like this. For your childish mind, Ajax was the epitome of a good person, so you refused to see him doing such cruel things because you considered them bad. He explained to you why he had to do this and how much it meant for family's sake, but you didn't understand it – you were overexcited from the new horizons of your existence and your infant senses couldn't focus on such complicated things like family's sake and need.

You were lucky enough not to face your father's punishments: you learned from the experience of others, and during interactions with him, you didn't make any mistakes. Any request of his you completed as best as you could and right in time – it was enough to satisfy him and make him leave you just with a couple of insults (a "wuss" was his favorite one towards you). All your childhood (the biggest part of which you forgot by the time you reached your teenage years) and adolescence you spend as a ghost of your own house: your father remembered about you rarely but when he did, he was watching after you with a heavy pensive gaze that made you walk on your tiptoes and forced you to live somewhere on the background not to burden him. You had never stayed in his presence for too long: it hurt you to realize that he was irritated by you, but you had seen a lot of times how Ajax was punished for no reason, so you preferred to run away while it was safe. Every time you heard the nasty whipping sound of a rod striking the skin and your brother's muffled grunt, you cried silently and waited until the end of the execution to run to your brother's room and help him treat his wounds.

Mother had never visited Ajax after punishments: she was busy calming Teucer, Anthon, and Tonia from crying, as all three of them were afraid to take Ajax's place. It was strange for you to understand that Ajax and you weren't kids anymore. Your childhood passed by like a disturbing dream: it was fast and unstoppable, and all the warm memories about it were related to Ajax only. He was your knight from fairytales; you trusted him with all your secrets and thoughts. Ajax helped you endure not only confrontations with your family but the feminine hardships of growing up too: when your first menstruation started, your mother had just thrown clean clothes at you and shamed you for being disgusting. She left you crying with no pity, shook your hand off of her dress roughly as you caught her by its hem to stop her and ask for forgiveness – you didn't want to be disgusting and make her angry because of this. Ajax had to explain to you what was happening to your body. Without confusion, with a stern, dry voice, he just stated the fact – now you were a maiden, and soon you would reach marriage age.

It was hard not to notice that from this moment Ajax stopped treating you like a child. For him you were an adult now – and he took you with respect and counted on you to gain wisdom on how to be a homemaker. Now, it was your turn to prepare food for the family, babysit younger siblings, and provide them with parental care. Ajax didn't accept your help on the stable anymore and didn't let you do man's work that required physical strength. Ajax gave you the warmest clothes and blankets, appealed to you to watch after your health.

Ajax had taught you that he would always be on your side. He taught you to trust him and never rebel against him – your older brother had known what was best for you, and you agreed with him: he was responsible for you, in Snezhnaya it was an unspoken rule which came from one generation to another without doubts. You asked him for advice numerous times, and he was always right. He was the only man who could touch you, the only one to solve your every problem, the only one to teach you how to be a good woman and wife. He was your support, and he had never demanded a reward from you but you gave him all your love and adoration because he deserved it, you believed. No one could ever compare to him: your older sisters ignored you, Gleb and Timofey hated you. What about Tonia, Teucer and Anthon, for you they were just young cuckoos who pushed Ajax and you out of the nest. You were jealous of them receiving love from mother: your heart ached every time you saw her giving them kisses on their chubby cheeks. Your stomach twisted painfully every time you caught her nursing Teucer or Anthon, and a yearn for mother's warm hands was taking over you. The only feelings you knew for younger siblings were envy and irritation.

They didn't love you back, as everyone else in the house: they got fussy in your presence, every time you tried to calm them down someone of them started crying and calling for mother's attention. It hurt you even more if Ajax came to help you: they enjoyed his presence; especially Teucer, who was Ajax's new favorite youngest sibling. Every time after another failed attempt to babysit Anthon, Teucer and Tonya you got a nice punch at the back of your head from father and plenty of insults as well. A sad sack, idiot, nitwit and many other offenses were spoken out loud by him so everyone could hear your disgrace. Public humiliation of yours was normalized in the family, so everyone could say anything to you without fear of revenge.

You couldn't fight back. Words were stuck in your throat and you just kept silent every time your family acted unfairly with you. Whenever you started crying from such a rough treatment, you were shamed by mother for overreacting and being dramatic. You craved for her attention, as every child you wanted to be noticed and communicated with, but the forming sense of human dignity didn't let you humiliate yourself by acting needy. You dreamed of her soft hands hugging you gently and pressing you to her thick figure, that smelled like bakery and freshness. But instead, you found yourself in the dusty backrooms of the house, hugged by Ajax, roughly and clumsily: never taught how to properly comfort someone, he was pressing you to his chest as hard as he could, so you could feel how sorry for you he was. His calloused, coarse hands were patting you on your head and wiping tears off of your face. Unlike your mother, Ajax smelled strongly with sweat and his hands had a subtle stench of fish that he was gutting for dinner.

Ajax tried his best to cheer on you. Deep inside his soul he saved the childish sentimentality, so he felt extremely guilty for you and wanted to make up for his siblings' behavior. Ajax promised you that he would take you out of this hell: he wanted to live in the city and vowed to you the sweetest life with happiness and joy. He knew that all his promises were impossible to complete and was left helpless, as he had nothing else to offer you instead. Ajax lost his ardor long ago when he got a taste of an adult life. He realized quickly that he would never make enough money to buy his family out, and humbled himself into being a good peasant, but still he was dreaming of being free, and gave your mind the sweet drug of dreams that would never come true. Ajax wished he wasn't so timid. He wanted life to give him an opportunity to become stronger and braver – and despite all his current beliefs, he felt that something was waiting for him in the future, something hopeful and great…

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fic #genshin impact smut #childe x you #childe smut #childe x fem!reader #childe x reader smut #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader

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apalestar · 2 months ago

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A cool evening had swept through Waterdeep, the crisp air attempting to creep in through the open balcony doors—though Gale’s warding spell ensured it stayed at bay. The mage had adjusted his routine to align with his lover’s, becoming more of a night owl so he could spend as much of his waking hours as possible with Astarion. This evening was no different. The two of them were enjoying a quiet night in the library, where Gale sat on the plush stool of the piano, the firelight casting a warm, gentle glow over the room.

Typically, the piano played itself, an enchantment Gale had placed on the instrument so the keys would remember and repeat songs he had transcribed. But tonight, that enchantment was dormant. Gale wanted to play a song for Astarion as a man, as his lover—not as a wizard conjuring music with a spell. His magical fingers danced across the ivory keys, their touch deft yet tender, his hum blending softly with the notes that filled the room.

As the final chord echoed through the library, Gale glanced over at Astarion, who was lounging on the nearby couch. He felt a sudden, fleeting thought—perhaps he could teach Astarion a small tune. A man with such keen dexterity could likely pick it up with ease, after all.

“Astarion, my love?” Gale asked, his voice inviting. "Have you ever played the piano?"

He stood, gesturing toward the now-vacant seat, the warmth from his body still lingering on the cushion.

@galefcrce sends fluff. I make it sad.

Astarion for his worth made an attempt to trance during the late hours of the night before dawn broke. His vampiric constitution set his internal clock to seek solace at the rising of the sun. His attention drawn to the book in his hand. Some trite tale of Romeo and Juliet rewritten in the most ridiculous fashion. He spared Gale having to hear it. He was not yet to the terribly written sex. This author had painstakingly made the whole story a parody on purpose. Astarion quite enjoyed it.

Absently, he noted how the piano sounded different this night. Something not quite as perfect. Eyes pivoted up to regard the change to find Gale at the keys. How terribly romantic. “No. I’m sure neither of us want to hear my attempt at it.” He set the tome aside. “But why not? Tara needs to have her evening spiced up.” He settled beside Gale on the bench. The keys looked the same to him. Ivory and dyed.

Just as the smile began to inch across his face his mind fled elsewhere. A state between waking and trancing. A hazy fog of a memory. He watched it like the pages of a tattered book where the story was torn out and ink blotted over the words.

A woman of light hair stood to his right. The piano in front of him decades old, but well cared for. The lady beside him sang and played for him often as a babe. She awaited something, but that was lost to time. What wasn’t lost was how his fingers danced across the keys. The song she played for him tapped out of the keys. She sang the words as he played in elvish. A lullaby elven mothers used to soothe and teach their newborns how to properly trance.

When Astarion returned to himself from his fugue state, he noted how he was playing the very same song from his memory. Slowly, he finished the song out. Eyes stared at the keys. He recalled so precious little from his time before Cazador. The woman while he didn’t know her name invoked a familiar feeling all children knew: Mother.

He went silent and pensive for a while. “I suppose I’m just a natural.” He eventually brushed off. There was no use dwelling on half forgotten memories of an elf that no longer existed.

#galefcrce #verse: this will be a lot of fun #queue #bloodweave tw

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softquietsteadylove · 11 months ago

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During the show the tightrope breaks and Thena falls. Luckily Gil catches her but gets injured. The whole crew protects both of them when kro is very angry that Gil touches Thena. Some drama for the circus one

"Thena!"

It felt as if it happened in slow motion. Thena was in the middle of the routine as usual, and things were going well. She and Angus were both strong and ready for the show.

But something wasn't right. Gil had watched as Thena froze on the tightrope, her whole body locking up on the spot. He had looked to where her eyes were anchored, running out from behind the scenes. Something was wrong with the joint where the line was attached.

Then it snapped.

"Thena!" He ran as fast as he could. There were no nets, as per a certain ringleader's demand (because it didn't instill the right excitement in the crowds). There was no protecting Thena from a bone shattering fall.

He plowed into her, just barely managing to catch her as they both rolled and skidded from his momentum. He somehow managed to keep a hold of her within his arms. His shoulder was most certainly jostled from where it was supposed to be, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a number of bruises along his ribs and arms.

The crowd was up on its feet, women and children screaming. Kro was already trying to assure them and tell them there was no need to panic (no need to ask for their money back).

"Gil?"

He opened his eyes, scared to look at what happened. But he grunted as Thena leaned over him, her hair pooling on his chest as he lay on his back. Her hand trailed over his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Oh Gil," she whispered, her hand sliding down his cheek and neck and over his chest.

Gil looked around them. It was chaos, and this was definitely a worst case scenario. At least Thena wasn't hurt, but the repercussions would ripple through the whole crew. They had to check the equipment, they would have a meeting with everyone from every department. And Kro would be furious.

"Hey!"

Gil saw from somewhat upside down as Kro caught sight of them. He didn't know why the guy was anywhere but by his wife's side, but he was too tired to think about that now. He watched as Kro began the process of storming over to them.

"Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Oh, he was talking to him. Gil blinked, feeling as if he were hearing everything underwater, and his head hurt something fierce. But Thena was unharmed, that was all that mattered to him.

"Gil," Thena whispered to him. There was a flurry of motion around them, the crew rushing to talk to Kro about what to do about the broken highwire. They would serve as a barricade for them. "Can you see me?"

He could only ever see her. He nodded, groaning as he tried to sit up.

"It's okay, easy," she cooed to him as she helped pull him up. "We're going to get you some help."

Gil tried to hold himself up, but damn it felt hard. He didn't think he was really this heavy, but he couldn't keep his feet straight. He was like a newborn colt trying to walk for the first time.

"Come on, big fella," some of his friends from the crew got on either side of him. Of course Thena couldn't be the one to help try to walk him to the medical tent. But she smelled nicer than these guys.

"Gil," she called to him again, dragging his eyes up to hers. "Just look at me. You can't fall asleep."

Why not? He was dead tired and he felt like he'd been wrestling with the elephants.

"Just keep looking at me," she whispered, leading him with the sweet lyricism of her voice. Like a damn angel, that woman.

Gil sighed as they finally got him to the medical tent and seated on a bale of hay. He really was ready to lie down, but he let Thena drag his head upright again. Although he did whine a little as she shined some kinda light in his eyes.

"You can't sleep like this," she sighed, and then put something cold on the top of his head. His eyes naturally rolled upward, not that he could see whatever it was. She smiled, "it's just from the icebox. We have to keep the swelling down."

Oh, it was his head. That made sense why his ears were ringing, at least. "Are you okay?"

Thena looked at him in a way that made his heart melt. She sat beside him, even letting her knees in her sparkly stockings brush against his in his regular, ratty old trousers. "Thanks to you."

Gil looked at her, now that the chaos from the main tent was behind them. She did look fine, which was a relief. "Couldn't just let you fall."

It was almost not within his control, that was to say. But Thena took his hand in hers. "I know you couldn't. But I owe my life to you, all the same."

His mind was a few steps behind his mouth as he blurted out, "where's your husband?"

Normally he wouldn't bring him up, even just so as to not upset the lady.

But Thena didn't even blink, rubbing her thumb against his, "don't worry about him, for now."

"I wish you didn't have to worry about him," Gil mumbled out. He really was saying whatever was on his mind, huh?

Thena sighed, though, looking at him with those stunning green eyes. "I know. I wish so, too."

Gil closed his eyes as she adjusted the cloth bundle of ice on top of his head. It did feel nice, but it also gave him the chills. "He's gonna blow his top if we can't get the highwire restrung."

"That man would blow his top at the sky if it were the only thing around."

Gil chuckled, although it made his head hurt something awful. He groaned.

"Sorry." Thena brushed the backs of her knuckles over his temple, soothing the ache from the outside in.

Gil looked at the cloth walls of the tent. It was just some canvas, and it was far from impenetrable. But he looked at Thena, feeling like he really did have this moment to keep just to themselves. "Thena...if he ever hurts you, I swear-"

His eyes slid closed as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were as soft as the light of first dawn. If he never believed in heaven before, maybe he did now.

Thena leaned back, her thumbs on his cheeks, "don't worry about me, Gil."

But he did. Every second of every day, he thought of her.

He was painfully in love with someone else's wife. "But-"

She kissed him again, more softly, and more chastely too, leaning back even quicker. "No buts, just try to rest. I can handle Kro."

Gil tried to protest again but Thena stood, leaving him alone on his little hay bale island. He blinked as she exited the tent, the warm glow inside contrasting the cold, blue light outside.

"Is he in there?"

"He's resting. Leave him be, Kro."

"Like hell I will. Bastard thinks he can put his hands on my wife?!"

Gil tried to get to his feet, stumbling to his knees at first. He tried again as the crack of a palm against a cheek sliced through the air. "Th-Thena?"

"He saved my life! More than you've ever done, and if I see you bothering him, I'll give the crowd something that will really scare them away and right out of your greedy hands."

He had never heard Thena raise her voice. He had seen her stand her ground with Kro, and he had no doubt she was as tough as a lady got, even with that brute of a husband. Maybe because of that brute of a husband.

"Ungrateful little whore."

"Call me whatever you want. Gilgamesh is not to leave his own sleeper car until he's healed."

She only ever called him Gil when they were alone.

"Fine, but the show goes on, even if the vet starts bleeding from the eyes."

Gil tried to stand again. He had to say that he would be fine. He couldn't let Thena be left alone with that devil. He groaned, managing to stand and take a few steps.

He only made it out of the tent in time to see Kro all but dragging Thena away, probably to berate her for talking back to him in front of the crew like that. But she turned and waved to him, assuring him of her well being.

Gil stood there, watching the woman he loved get dragged away by her husband. He couldn't make out any of the words his fellow crewmen and friends were chattering at him. All he was thinking about was how Thena had kissed him, and in such a way that could only mean that she loved him too.

#Thenamesh Circus AU #the drama!!!#I love it!#thank you for the ask!#honestly it's more dramatic than my usual stuff #but I love getting to revisit this AU #so I'm always happy to get the chance #and listen can you say star crossed lovers?#because oh my god it's so painfully obvious #talk about right person wrong time #Thena is on the ground with her hand on his chest like he's sleeping beauty and she's prince charming #and Kro is like huh...something's not right here #meanwhile everyone on the crew is gossiping and weeping on a nightly basis #they're so in love it's so beautiful but so sad!!!#so they create every window of opportunity for them that they can #Gil does get to eventually go to bed #and he sleeps for like 16 hours #when he finally wakes up he's got a dislocated shoulder and stumbles out #they get him some food and tell him everything is okay #he asks if Thena's okay and they say the lady's practically calling the shots since he got hurt #she's barking at Mister Kro an awful lot lately

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sanjayrithik · 8 months ago

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tngrace · 2 years ago

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Meet Grace

🏷: @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying

Name: Grace Nicole Michaels

Nickname: Gracie or Spicy

Occupation: Single Mom & Dispatcher

Description: 5'4" - Green eyes - dark brown colored hair, naturally curly - curvy

Background: When Grace was a fresh sixth grader, she met her best friend in the whole wide world. Baylie was an eighth grader and two years older than her, but they clicked. They were inseparable, all the way until Baylie graduated high school. Baylie even lived with Grace for a few months. When Baylie was off to college to become an RN, Grace still had two years of high school left and unfortunately they lost touch.

Grace decides she's not ready to commit fully to what she wants to do with the rest of her life, despite her parents pushing her to decide. So she decides to start with community college and get a bunch of her general education classes out of the way, so that when she does decide she's ready to jump into her degree. Her first year seems to fly by, and she meets her second ever boyfriend. He dotes on her and everything is wonderful. She wishes Baylie was there to meet him because she thinks he might be the one, until they get a surprise.

In Grace's first semester of her second year, she learns she's pregnant. Breaking the news to her parents is harder than she expects. She knows they're disappointed, but they are supportive. Her boyfriend on the other hand, totally bails. He was already at university, so breaking it off with her and blocking her number was easy to do. He claimed the baby wasn't his, even though Grace knew it was, and told her to forget all about him. She was heartbroken, but also knew she had to get it together for her baby - a miracle she'd been told she might never have.

She drops out of college and picks up two jobs to support herself. Her parents had given her a large sum of money on her eighteenth birthday and she'd saved most of it. Working two jobs was challenging around her morning and all day sickness, but she made it work and was able to keep adding to her savings. She was thankfully still on her parents' health insurance and by the time she went into labor, she didn't have to pay a bunch of money for her delivery - which ended up being a C-Section.

When she held her little boy - Cameron Luke - for the first time, she fell in love. Even at just twenty, she knew she would do anything for him. Working two jobs with a newborn is challenging and Grace ends up having to give up one of the jobs to keep from killing herself. She learns to budget really well and save every penny she can.

Grace reconnects with Baylie when Cam is a year and a half year old; Baylie has moved back to LA and is going to be working as a paramedic at station 118. Grace is so happy to have her best friend and big sister back in her life and she's so excited for Baylie to meet Cam. Baylie instantly falls in love with her nephew when she meets him, and when she sees where Grace is living, she insists she move in with her. Grace balks at that; she doesn't want to be a burden on anyone and she has been making it just fine on her own.

It takes almost a year, but Baylie is able to finally wear her down and get her to agree. She gets Grace on at dispatch and helps her get sitters and child care lined up for Cam for her erratic shifts. She takes to the call center so well, and the money is better than what she'd been making. They settle into a routine together and life is great. This is the happiest Grace has been in a while.

Follow along as Grace meets the 118, falls in love, and raises her little boy with her newfound family. - What If Masterlist

#my writing #911 fic #what if series #evan buck buckley #grace spicy michaels #evan buck buckley fic #buck x grace

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geeky360 · 1 month ago

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Parachute Just For Baby - Baby Gift Box (Powder + Oil + Lotion + Wash + Face Cream)

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agoodshampo · 2 months ago

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What Is Head And Toes Shampoo And Conditioner Good For

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The price of Johnson’s Head-to-Toe Baby Wash typically ranges from $4 to $8 for a 500ml bottle, making it an affordable option for families.

Should Adults Use Head-to-Toe Wash?

For adults, using a head-to-toe wash can be an excellent choice, especially for those with sensitive skin or those looking for a gentle, cost-effective product. Many adults have embraced Johnson’s Head-to-Toe Baby Wash for its mild nature and skin-friendly ingredients.

Johnson Baby Body Wash for Adults: A Surprising Favorite

Interestingly, Johnson Baby Body Wash has gained popularity among adults seeking gentle cleansing options. Its fragrance-free formula minimizes irritation and offers a soft, clean feel.

Conclusion

In summary, what is Head and Toes shampoo and conditioner good for? It serves as an excellent option for both babies and adults who want a mild, all-in-one product for their cleansing needs. With its tear-free and hypoallergenic properties, babies can enjoy a comfortable bath, while adults appreciate the convenience and gentle care it offers.

For more insights into top personal care items like Johnson’s Head-to-Toe Baby Wash, visit our website at agoodshampoo.com

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luxurybeautyreviews · 3 months ago

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#BeautyProducts #newmothers #Postpartum

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rveeorganics · 7 months ago

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The Traditional Touch: Hot-Processed Virgin Coconut Oil - Ventha Velichenna

#VenthaVelichenna VirginCoconutOil Hot Processed coconut oil NaturalWellness PureCoconutOil

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homespun-stories · 8 months ago

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Where Will The Baby Go?

For something that weighs around three kilos and measures in the region of 50cm, newborn babies sure do take up a lot of space. A little shy of three weeks ago, we brought our second baby back home—the same home we had brought back our first, just over four years ago. Many things have changed since then, not least the number of grey hairs on my head, but the one thing that has remained resolutely unchanged is the footprint of our apartment.

The fact of this sat with me all through 2022 and 2023, as my husband and I journeyed down the path of growing our family and all the complexities (read: hope, loss, love) that kind of process often entails. But where will the baby go? I'd silently fret to myself before I was even sure I’d have a baby at all to hold in my arms again. Objectively speaking we live in a small apartment, with enough bedrooms for two-thirds of the current occupants, excusing our enormous house cat who cares not for doors or boundaries and considers any available surface her territory for a hard-earned nap. To be honest, I’d welcome that kind of laissez-faire approach to our sleeping arrangements, flopping from sofa to bed to rug, but social conditioning and my extremely Type A personality requires routines and structure. No, the baby would need a bed, just like the rest of us, and we would need to work out where that bed was going to go.

It’s a profoundly modern and Western phenomenon, this suggestion that each individual requires their own bedroom or even their own bed. In the majority of countries around the world, co-sleeping and room sharing between parents and children is the standard practice of care, to the extent that it would be considered completely unreasonable to expect a child (let alone a baby) to sleep alone. In Japan, where co-sleeping ranks the highest in the world, sleep is described as a river, with the parents occupying the banks and the child as the flowing water held safely between. We co-slept with our daughter for the first six months of her life, although it wasn’t in the formation of a river but more like a motorbike (our bed) with a sidecar (her crib). Given the grunts, hoots and whistles she regularly emitted as she dozed, this analogy feels more apt than the backdrop of a babbling brook. In any instance, she was never more than an arm’s reach away during those thick, dark nights when every insane sound she made was heightened in the silence of a slumbering home. After that, we moved her into The Baby’s Room which we had decorated and furnished with playful odds and sods that said more about our whimsy of being parents than they did of any perceived personality trait of our child. It’s a curious thing, to decorate a room that someone else will occupy, without knowing a single thing about their tastes or interests.

The Baby’s Room had also been our study until that point, and when the time came to move the desk into the front room to make way for a changing table and crib, I felt slightly undone. I was ready to acknowledge that parenthood would come with an exchange of gains and losses, but there was something so bluntly literal about the act of becoming a mother that it necessitated my giving up a private place to write. I guess it’s a variation of that oft-debated line from Cyril Connelly: “There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway." The irony is that it was only once my daughter was born that I found the capacity within myself to put pen to paper in a more expansive way, and during my maternity leave I wrote the first draft of a book proposal. Perhaps it’s an even greater irony that four years later I am writing these words whilst my son is wailing in the room next door, as my husband tries to rock him to sleep. Perhaps, like nature, art will always find a way.

One of the consequences of giving up our study in place of The Baby’s Room, was the associated shame (entirely on my part) that came with living in a home that appeared too small for all our needs and wants. I come from a country that places a great deal of emphasis on the Family Home, variations of which most of my peers now live in and are currently extending, remodelling or digging out extensive basements underneath. Family Homes have a garden, enough bedrooms for everyone, a guest room, more than one bathroom, and the kinds of open plan kitchen-cum-dining rooms that are increasingly of a single aesthetic that populates all our Instagram feeds. Family Homes tend to come with their own social media accounts, so we can follow our friends’ #HomeReno updates and post fire emojis under pictures of construction sites. I have spent a good many years reflecting on what makes us feel good, mad and sad about home, and I can tell you that the insidious rise of interior design content which is beyond the skills and budget of the overwhelming majority is making a lot of us fucking miserable about our living situations.

After a while, the question of where will the baby go stopped masquerading as a concern about where, practically, the baby will sleep, and revealed itself for what it was: a shameful desire to meet some kind of social norm as a Family of Four. This revelation came to me in the winter of 2022, after a shockingly awful year pockmarked by loss. During this time we had tried, and failed, to sell our apartment and buy a house. For nine long months our home sat on the market, and most weekends we spent our free time cleaning and decluttering so the estate agent could bring one or two people over for a viewing that never materialised into anything other than a pass. That weekend, in early December, when we pulled our home off the market and accepted our fate, I wept. It was another grief, of sorts—the ambiguous loss of a life I had imagined in our new house; one with enough potential to become a Family Home.

These days, when I’m feeling a bit out of sorts at home and in need of a reset, I roam around the apartment and find things to fix or do—packing toys away in their rightful boxes, folding laundry, changing lightbulbs, that kind of thing. Invariably, I’ll end up standing in my daughter’s room gazing at all the things that make this space sing with her personality that we could never have anticipated when we picked out paint colours—the paintings bluetacked at a wonky angle on the wall, the rock and gravel collection, the basket of teddies, the plastic box stuffed with countless beaded bracelets she’s made for us all. I can’t even remember what it looked like when it was a study, and I don’t care any more. I didn’t lose anything when I moved my desk out, because it was never a trade to begin with. The day we turned that room into our daughter’s bedroom, we simply dialled up the joy in our lives. I couldn’t see it for a long time, but now I know that I’ve been living in a Family Home all along.

So where will the baby go now that we are four and our home is still, resolutely, the same size as before? He’ll go right here, of course—with us.

#lifeathome #feelslikehome #space

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