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mothandpidgeon · 5 months

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While the Baby Sleeps (demon!Ezra x f!reader)

pairing: demon!Ezra x f!reader (mom!reader)

rating: E! 18+!

wc: 2.6k

summary: The only way to get your baby to sleep through the night is making a deal with an unholy creature. But, of course, there are consequences...

tags: dark fic, Dub/non con (making a deal with a demon), breastfeeding, nursing, lactation kink, mommy kink? (but not like that), stretch marks, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, horns, Ezra is a sex demon, moth never uses y/n

an: Here is my submission to #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge! Actually this fic is the reason why I wanted to do this challenge. Sometimes when I'm in the dark nursery in the middle of the night, I have fun intrusive thoughts like 'What if there was a shadowy figure in the doorway?' To combat how terrifying that thought is, I took it and made it horny. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for betaing this, helping me do this Mother's Day Challenge, and all around being a cool auntie to my fics and baby Moth.

...

He wakes you every night. It doesn’t matter what you try. Your son hasn't let you have more than three consecutive hours of sleep since he was born.

You’re at your wit’s end.

Every time you look in the mirror you see a hollowed out version of yourself with dark bags under your eyes. You make yourself coffee without putting grounds into the filter. You fly into a tearful rage when you spill a bottle of precious milk. You don’t know who you are anymore.

Tonight’s no different. You lift your crying baby from his crib. Rock him, shush him. You sit with him in the glider and try to nurse him back to sleep. It’s all done bleary-eyed, half asleep. Everything is these days.

You’d give anything for this baby to sleep.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, you look up to see a figure standing just outside the nursery. It’s shadowy against the dark of the hallway, shades of gray on black. From the height and broad shoulders, it could be a man. He stands abnormally still. Silent, watching. You think it’s just a trick of your sleep deprived mind until he moves just slightly and a patch of silver hair is caught in the moonlight.

You must be dreaming because if there was a man in your baby’s room, you’d be terrified. And you’re not. You feel calm like you’re floating on steady waters.

“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice drifts like a lullaby.

He doesn’t respond, just leans in the doorway. All that you can make out is that blonde hair and two eyes that glint at you.

“I’ve come to help you, petal,” he finally says. His voice is warm and melodic.

You feel yourself nodding off for a moment. When you blink yourself awake, he’s by your side.

You can make out his features better now. Dark stubble covers a handsome face. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw are silhouetted in the dim. You smell woodsmoke and frankincense as he comes near. He kneels beside the chair and his brow furrows as he looks up at you.

“You need that child to rest,” he says.

You nod pathetically. You can feel familiar tears well in your eyes. Hopeless, helpless. Desperate.

“I can be of assistance,” he says.

“Don’t hurt him,” you say, holding your son a bit closer to your chest. Your baby might be torturing you in the night but you love him. You won’t let anything happen to him. Even though you’re sure you’re dreaming, you remember old fairy tales, creatures that try to trick and deceive. This man isn’t human, you know that somewhere deep inside you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t even touch him. It’s not the babe that’s piqued my interest. It’s his mother,” he explains. His obsidian eyes are on your lips, pink tongue darts out to lick his own.

“Don’t hurt me either,” you say, though there’s no fight in your words.

“That’s not my intention at all. Quite the opposite. You’re so beautiful, petal,” he coos, brushing his knuckles across your jawline.

It must be a dream because you haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Your body’s been stretched and broken, engorged and swollen. Your hair falls out by the handful. Your breasts reek of sweat and milk, a sickly funk.

“I want you. Carnally,” he says.

The growl in his voice makes warmth pool between your thighs. He looks at you like something divine, an awe over his features. His light touch moves down your neck and over your collarbone sending goosebumps over your skin. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel anything other than exhausted, touched in a way that isn’t a demand for food or comfort.

“Let me have that and that boy will slumber like an angel,” he promises. He watches your baby suckling himself back to sleep.

It sounds so good. Suddenly the only thing you want more than a a night’s sleep is for this stranger to pleasure you, to be inside of you. You haven’t felt desire in just about as long as you haven’t slept. You’ve barely been able to shower and feed yourself let alone take care of your own needs.

“Put the child in his cot and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll come for you and you’ll see,” he says.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“I’m Ezra,” he whispers.

You wake up in your bed the next morning and you’ve slept like the dead.

That strange dream haunts you but you think of it as nothing more than that. When you put your son down to sleep the next night, you don’t expect any miracles. He goes down easily enough, a nice little fluke, and you decide to turn in early yourself.

Its nearly midnight when you wake up but you realize it’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying for you. You glance at the monitor and see that he’s sleeping soundly, sucking away at this pacifier. Just as Ezra promised.

Relief floods your veins. You put your head back against the pillow and your eyes drift close. As you begin to return to sleep, there’s a shift in the bed and you catch that earthy scent again. You gasp when you see Ezra’s black eyes. He’s beside you, the pad of his thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip. His chest is a wide golden plane littered with white scars, dusted with dark hairs.

“Hush, petal,” he says. “I’ve kept my promise. And now I’ve come to ravish you.”

You want to tell him that you’re tired. You finally have the opportunity to go back to sleep and you shouldn’t let anything come between you and that sweet rest. But the same, strong want that you felt the night before is calling you. An ache runs between your legs up to where Ezra’s hand glides over the delicate skin on your pulse. You're powerless to stop your own desire from sabotaging the one thing you’ve wanted.

A languid sigh leaves you as you melt into his touch.

Ezra sucks at your neck. You’ll have a black and blue mark from his teeth but the sensation is so delicious, you can’t bring yourself to care.

He opens your legs and notches his hips between yours. The friction of his hard cock against your panties makes your back arch.

“I want to taste you,” he says.

He rucks up the ratty old t-shirt that you sleep in along with the nursing bra that’s constantly saturated with leaking milk. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of you so exposed, a smile twitching on his lips. A long, low growl leaves him as he slithers down your body, gathering your breasts in his big hands and bringing his face to nuzzle in your skin.

You hear him inhale deeply, taking in your scent. The stubble of his cheek scratches at your sensitive flesh. One thick finger circles your peaked nipple nice and slow. Your body responds— a bead of milk seeps out and rolls down to the valley between your breasts.

Your breath catches at the mix of sensations. Your cheeks heat and you can’t help the embarrassment that creeps up your spine. Much to your surprise, Ezra’s eyes widen with interest. He lowers himself and traces the wet trail with the flat of his tongue. You can only imagine what he tastes– the musk of your sweat beneath sweet milk. It seems that he likes it. He closes his lips around your nipple and lavishes it with his tongue, groaning into your flesh.

“Shit,” you gasp.

You feel the tingle of letdown behind your breasts, his ministrations summoning more milk. Soon Ezra is drinking from you, grunting and rutting his hips against you. The other, neglected nipple weeps milk and he pauses to lap it up greedily. You tangle your hand into his hair and that’s when you feel it. There’s a raised bump amidst his curls but it’s hard as bone. It sits just above his forehead and stands only an inch high. As your fingers rake through his hair, you find another. Horns.

The terror you expect never comes. He might be something ungodly and all you feel is a building excitement. Everything about this is wrong but the world feels upside down.

He comes away, his plush bottom lip glistening with pearlescent milk. It’s a sight that should repulse you but in the delirium of sleeplessness and lust, it just makes you hungry.

“You are an exquisite creature,” he purrs.

His flat palm skates down your belly where you’re middle still holds baby weight, a reminder that your body is no longer your own. He peels your panties down your thighs. You feel the fine edges of his teeth against your skin. He penetrates you with two exquisitely thick fingers. No warning but you hardly need it— you’re already slick.

You keen, back arching off of the mattress, and the sensation is doubled when he puts his lips to your clit and sucks with the same enthusiasm he had at your breast. His wide shoulders spread your knees to make room for his body. You drown in pleasure, a heady mixture of fire doused in the thick pool of sleepiness. Floating, sinking, cresting on a wave as he licks and spreads you open, presses in deep and coils you tight. It’s hard to believe your body can have such strong responses when you’re barely function in your waking life. Something primal drives you on and Ezra knows just how to unlock it.

“Such a delicacy. To sup on milk and cunt,” he says, barely taking his lips from you.

The swirls and undulations of his tongue and the sweet pressure inside works you into a frenzy. Your breath shortens and then stops altogether, your thighs tighten and you hold your eyes shut, listening to the whimpers and moans between your legs. It’s too much and not enough.

When you come undone, it’s a rush of ecstasy that you want to live in forever. Rolling and gushing and sighing. You choke and arch, your entire body convulsing. Your spine clenches up like you’ve been struck by lighting and the electricity runs out through your fingertips and toes.

“Such a glorious vision,” he muses as you come down, panting and shivering.

Ezra’s eyes are fixated on you, pupils blown so wide they’re nearly black. He looks like he wants to devour you.

You share his hunger. You want more already. You’ve just had a feast and yet you’re starving again.

You see Ezra’s cock now for the first time. Thick and upright, it’s tip, flushed and red. He takes it in his fist, glazing his shaft in your release. There’s something animalistic about it that floods you with another wave of arousal.

“More,” you manage to say.

“Not too tired?” he teases with a wicked smile.

You shake your head. How can you sleep when your body is on fire with lust?

“I’ll fill each needy hole,” he says.

You whine. He lines himself at your entrance.

“You’re a goddess. And I’m going to defile you.”

You're filled to the hilt. The noise that escapes him is animalistic and his eyes lose focus. You��re already fluttering around him, already so close to another climax. He fucks you, the stretch and rhythm making you dizzy.

“This is the closest I’ll get to heaven, I fear,” he revels. “But what could be more divine than this sweet cunt?”

Each word that falls from his lips seems to stroke at your core. His hips drive into you, hands greedily paw at every soft part of your body.

The only thing that quiets his debauched ramblings is suckling at your breast. Your senses are completely overwhelmed. Tears prick in your eyes as your insides tighten, another orgasm shattering through you. You bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

“Let me hear,” he demands. “He won’t wake.”

And so you do, crying out as you clench around his thickness, losing all control of your body.

“That’s it, petal. That’s it,” he says.

He goes on thrusting and pins you down, torturing that exquisite spot deep inside of you over and over again. You’re not sure where one climax ends and another begins but you’re possessed.

“If only I could fill that womb, sire one after the other to keep you round,” he grunts.

Ezra swears. He hisses out words in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like an incantation.

You hardly have time to make sense of it. He’s pulling out of you, grinding his wet length against your thigh and spilling hot ropes onto your mound.

You lay beneath him, boneless and dazed. The exhaustion flushes over your weak body. You sense Ezra at your breast again as your eyes drift closed.

The next thing you know, your baby is crying and it’s morning.

It must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain it— a horned creature slipping in and out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, fucking you senseless when you have no energy left. But you wake up with come drying where he marked you.

That night, he’s back again.

And again after that.

“Ezra, I’m exhausted," you breathe. "Please.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, petal?”

Now your son sleeps soundly through the night while you are awake, debauched for hours without end.

He’s insatiable and somehow you are, too.

He fucks you until you’re raw. Your legs quiver and burn from being parted so wide. Your pussy feels battered and bruised. You beg him to fuck your ass just to give your cunt some rest.

And although your body feels like it can’t take another second of pleasure, though it begs for a moment’s peace, every time he comes to you, you’re flooded with arousal.

When you try to steal an afternoon nap, he’s there, cock already standing in his fist.

Spittle dribbles from the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth. It runs down your chest, your knees already bruised from the hours you’ve spent on them. You try to chase your own relief, grinding your hips against the floor. He pulls you by the ears to sink deeper down your throat.

He grunts and moans and howls as he comes between your lips.

He doesn’t always take.

The next time he makes you come four times.

“Again, again,” he chants into your ear. His words are hot breath as his fingers press inside of you overwhelming that ridge that sends you reeling. Your bodies are pressed together, sticky with perspiration and release and drool and milk.

“I can’t,” you sob, your body sore and stretched to its limit.

You’re so spent, so overstimulated, each orgasm takes more and more effort. But Ezra refuses to quit, punishing you until you reach a fearsome crescendo.

“Oh, my petal, but I know you are more than capable.”

He’s right. You can feel the weak muscles in your core begin to twist. You hold your breath and focus on the brutal sensations Ezra gives you.

“Besides, your ability is immaterial,” he goes on. “These were the terms of our deal. This cunt. Is. Mine.”

Despite the fact that you’re so exhausted you can barely remember your own name, hardly able to stand on your own two feel, the climax that hits you is just as monumental as the very first.

“Have you endured enough tonight, petal?” he asks, sucking the gush of slick off of his fingers.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.”

You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going.

“Tomorrow, petal,” he promises. “Now get some rest.”

He wakes you. Every night.

...

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! My asks are always open and I don't bite (unless you're into that).

#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge #ezra prospect #ezra x f!reader #demon!ezra #demon!ezra x f!reader #dark fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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Unexpected 50

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your promise to Lloyd is empty. You have no great urge to see Andy again. You’re embarrassed at the thought. Even a bit guilty as you accept that any sliver of excitement he brought to you has flown away. The return of your husband drags you back down to earth in the most desolating way.

You swipe away another notification. You don’t know how to reply to Andy. It doesn’t seem right to tell him over a text. Still, you can’t bring yourself to face him. Your last two conversations haven’t been exactly productive. How many times can you tell him this was never meant to be anything more than sex?

That’s when you feel rotten. You used him the same way you’ve been used. Just a release, a thing to make you feel better about yourself. Worse, he’s a widower. He’s lost so much already and now you’re toying with him. That’s hardly fair.

You sit with Luna on the floor. Getting down there was hard enough and you don’t want to ponder how you’ll get back up. She lays on her mat, raising her head to look around. She’s still needy but you see her changing. Maybe she sees the same in you with how she stares at you.

There’s a knock at the door. You brace yourself. You already know it isn’t Lloyd, he would just barge in. You know he hasn’t changed at all. Luna’s head bobbles as she tries to look around and you call for whoever it is to enter.

“Hey, we goin’ on that walk?” Harlen asks as he enters, already half-dressed for the dipping temperature. You notice the metallic red thermos in his hand, “I was hopin’ to get out.” He present the capped container, “got us some hot chocolate even.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you make yourself smile, “yeah, that might be a good idea.”

“Here, let me help,” he sets the thermos down and crosses the room, offering his hand to haul you up.

“Go on, get ready,” he bids as he grunts, bending to pick up Luna from the floor, “oh, she gettin’ heavy.” He stands straight, “I need the workout anyhow.”

“I have a suit for her. Thermal,” you explain as you search the dresser against the nursery wall. The last few nights you’ve spent sleeping in the glider chair, your own fortress in a castle not your own.

“You let me worry about that,” he nears, rocking Luna in one arm as he takes the insulated outfit from you, “go get something warm on. You gotta take care of you too.”

You look at him. You nod. He’s the only man you can’t bring yourself to argue with, maybe because he’s the only one who’s ever really cared. You love that about him but it makes you think of your own dad and how he would rather his flask than to spend a single birthday with you.

“Right,” you surrender, “I won’t be long.”

You leave the nursery and head down to the guest room. The door is already unclasped but you don’t think much of it until you enter. You find Lloyd sat on the foot of the bed with the little crescent moon toy Luna likes so much. His eyes flick up as you sigh.

You ignore him and go to the closet. You take out an old sweatshirt and dig out some jeans from a drawer. You feel him watching you. You hear him get up and come closer as you take out a pair of wool socks.

“Gonna be Christmas soon enough…” he says.

“Oh shut up,” you snarl.

It’s his turn to sigh. He angles around to stand beside you, facing you, and puts the toy on the dresser. You walk away from him and he follows you towards the bathroom door. The very idea of him seeing how he ravaged your body, the stretchmarks and the loose skin, repulses you. You won’t give him that victory.

As you try to close the door in his face, he forces his foot between it and the frame, “you have to talk to me eventually. She’s my daughter. I have a legal right–”

“Why did you come back? I know it’s not because of her,” you lean on the door. He’s just as strong as ever. If he really wanted to, he could overpower you.

“You,” he says. “I was always going to come back–”

“No, no, no. Lloyd, enough lies. It’s over. You know that. Whatever made you want me, I’m not it anymore. So whoever you were out fucking, go back to them. You won’t get anything from me.”

“I didn’t–”

“Fuck. Off.”

You stomp his toe and he recoils. You take the opportunity to slam the door and flip the lock into place. You keep your hand on the door and catch your breath. You hear him on the other side, lingering, the friction of his touch dragging down the other side.

“Peaches…” he says.

You scoff and push away. You go to the counter and put down the armful of clothes. You look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t even feel bad for yourself, you feel worse that Luna has to call someone like him a father.

🍑

You meet Harlan downstairs. He has Luna bundled up and helps you get her strapped into the baby carrier that hooks over your shoulders. It’s much easier than the stroller, if not a bit of a strain on your back.

He tucks the thermos into the large pocket of his coat and opens the door for you. He trails you outside into the brisk air of late autumn. The chill nips at your cheeks and nose as you adjust Luna’s hood to make sure she’s cozy.

“Thanksgiving soon. Dot was talkin’ bout it,” he says as you walk down the long driveway, “she talkin’ a lot lately. Driving me a bit crazy.”

“Oh,” you raise your brows dully. You haven’t said much to her. You resent her for all those weeks of sticking up for her son and her tune hasn’t changed, “yeah, maybe… get a turkey.”

“Ha, come on, what are we gon’ do? Sit down for a family dinner? She just wants peace but she won’t acknowledge the battle,” he puffs as he takes out the thermos and untwists the cap. “Here?”

He offers you a drink first. You stop awkwardly to sip from the brim and thank him. He takes a gulp of his own and hums.

“Not too bad,” he comments, “was of a mind to add some whiskey but we’ll save that for later.”

You chuckle and shake your head. You set off down the sidewalk, keeping a hand on the bottom of the carrier as you make slow progress. It’s the sort of cold that wakes you up. It reminds you of the day you met Lloyd and you scowl. A year. More than.

As you come to the end of the street, someone turns the corner. You don’t pretend to be surprised as Andy approaches. He wears a navy cap, his hair poking out from the hem, and his cheeks are rosy above his thick beard. He smiles as he nears, even as his eye twitches.

“Morning,” he greets brightly, “how’s little Luna?”

You slow as he glances at the baby in her harness. You sway with her as she babbles.

“She’s good,” you answer as Harlan clears his throat. You sniff as you try to roll the tension out of your shoulders, “oh, Andy, this is my… dad, Harlan. Harlan, Andy. The neighbour.”

“Sir,” Andy smiles and offers his hand, “nice to meet you. You must be so proud of your daughter. And granddaughter. A beautiful pair, huh?”

“Beaming,” Harlan shakes his hand gruffly, “couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“Well, uh, I was actually gonna pop in. I found some more baby stuff and thought maybe you could use it,” Andy rescinds his hand, tucking it in his jacket pocket. “I could watch Luna if you want. Give you some time off.”

“Oh, Andy, that’s sweet but… I got all the help I need,” you peek over at Harlan. “I appreciate everything but I hate to take advantage of your kindness.”

“It’s no problem. Really. I don’t mind,” Andy insists, only girding himself as his eyes flit to Harlan and he squares his shoulder, “just putting it out there.”

“I’ll… I’ll keep you in mind,” you utter awkwardly.

Harlan’s silent. You don’t have the courage to look at him. You can feel the tension radiating off of him. He’s shielded in that cool stoicism that once made you feel so small.

“Well, you know my number,” Andy shrugs, “I’m sure you can figure out how to reply to my texts,” he steps forward, gazing at Luna as he coos, surprising you as he bends to kiss the top of her head, “buh bye, Luna.” He grins, his eyes meeting yours as he stands at his full height, “pretty, just like mommy.” He nods and looks past you to Harlan, “try to stay warm out here.”

Andy struts past as you step aside. You hesitate before you continue on, quiet as Harlan lets a hum roll up his throat. He clucks and cranes to peer over his shoulder.

“That’s him?” He asks. You can only nod, staring down in shame. “Ah, well… you keep space from him… for yourself. Man’s got something ‘bout him…. Something off.”

“I… I’ve been ignoring him so…”

“No, no,” Harlan intones, “no, ain’t nothing ‘bout you.”

You stroll on, the uneasiness in his timbre crawling over you in goosebumps. You look down at Luna and run your hand up the back of the carrier, embracing her a little closer. Andy could be a little overbearing but he’s harmless, right?

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #series #unexpected #au #the gray man #defending jacob

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2nd2ndalto · 23 days

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Adventures in Babysitting

Will comes home to discover an unexpected babysitter in his house.

- - - -

(This work is an outtake from Fall Down With You, but you certainly don't need to read one to understand the other)

- - - -

Will drags his feet up the steps to his front door, fumbling and nearly dropping his keys. He’s been at the hospital for so many hours he hasn’t even seen sunlight today. He misses it almost as much as he misses his husband and their infant daughter.

When Will last saw Nico, his husband had looked dead on his feet, eyes more shadowed than Will’s ever seen them, valiantly using the last of his wits and energy to shush and rock and bounce a screaming baby. Nico had still managed a half-smile as Will kissed them both goodbye.

Will’s mom likes to say that Nora has her days and nights mixed up, but Will’s not convinced the baby has any concept of time at all, her naps no more than a long blink and her night sleeps interrupted repeatedly for bottles and cuddles and diaper changes and seemingly random, ear-splitting screaming.

The two of them had decided this was the best plan, when they brought Nora into their lives – that Will would continue with his residency and Nico would take a year’s leave from his post-grad studies. It had seemed so sensible at the time, when it was just the two of them, discussing it all with level heads and eight hours’ sleep every night. Now it feels ridiculous that they ever thought this would be easy.

Nico’s bearing the brunt of it, of course. But then there’s the perpetual ache in Will’s chest that comes from knowing he’s physically unable to help as much as he wants to. And besides that, a fourteen-hour shift seems like an interminable amount of time in the life of someone who’s less than 100 days old.

“She smiled,” Nico had told Will one day last week, ecstatic. And Will had been thrilled, of course, but then he’d promptly burst into tears because gods, he’s just missing so much. Nico had held tight to Will with one arm, Nora in the other, all three of them in tears as Nico tried to reassure Will that this was only the first of many smiles.

Finally managing to turn the key in the lock, Will steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him and lowering his backpack to the floor. The house is blessedly quiet, and he takes a moment to lean against the closed door, eyes falling shut. A moment later he feels himself wobble, head bobbing. He should probably find a horizontal surface before passing out. Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way quietly into the living room. There’s no telling where or when there might be a sleeping baby these days, and they’ve learned very quickly to never, ever disturb one of those.

“Good evening, William,” intones a deep voice.

Will nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see his father-in-law - the Lord of the Underworld seated in the glider chair, lit somewhat ominously from the lamp above, their eight-week-old daughter nestled in his arms.

Will clutches at his chest. “Jesus! I mean – Hades! Um – sir.”

Hades rolls his eyes. It reminds Will so much of Nico that he almost laughs. Would have, probably, if he weren't deathly afraid of waking the sleeping child in Hades’ arms.

“There’s no need to call me sir, William. You may call me by my name. As we have previously discussed.”

“Sorry, sir – Hades.”

Will definitely hadn't been expecting company, and he’s suddenly painfully aware of his own disheveled appearance, not to mention the dishes in the sink, the unvacuumed carpet and the coffee table strewn with various baby accessories. He restrains himself from starting to tidy.

“What – um – what are you doing here?” Will stammers. “I mean, not that I’m not pleased to see you, but –”

“My son is sleeping."

Will feels his eyes go wide. “Just – just like a regular sleep though, right? Not, like –”

Hades’ expression softens, marginally. “Yes. He is slumbering. In your – um. Bedroom.”

“And you – you’re –”

“I am babysitting, William.”

“Oh. Wh-why?” Will’s voice comes out higher than he planned.

They gaze at each other for a long moment. Will's so exhausted he wonders if he might be hallucinating this entire encounter.

Hades clears his throat. “My son was badly in need of rest. I believe he prayed to me in a moment of weakness. But I was only too pleased to be summoned to spend some quality time with my granddaughter.”

Will blinks, his tired brain still struggling to make sense of the scene before him. Nora’s dark head is nestled into the crook of Hades’ shoulder, her pudgy cheek squashed against the faces of the damned undulating within his robes. It doesn’t seem conducive to sleeping. But then again, she is a granddaughter of the Underworld.

“Well, um. Thank you,” Will says. “I can take her now though, sir. Hades.” He takes a step towards the god cradling his infant daughter, but Hades shifts the baby, holding her closer.

“You will not.”

“I – won’t?”

“My son tells me you worked many hours at the hospital today. Is this accurate?”

“Well. Yes. Fourteen hours,” Will admits. Honestly, if he hadn’t been confronted by his father-in-law in his living room, there’s probably no way he’d still be upright. His feet and back ache, eyes burning with tiredness.

Hades studies him for a moment. “Sleep, William.”

Will spares a longing glance towards the bedroom. “Really? Are you – are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I do not mind. I intend to stay and offer my assistance until Wednesday morning, at which point your father will arrive.”

Will blinks. “My father? As in… Apollo?”

Hades inclines his head. “Indeed. It is high time that we gods became more involved with our earthly relations. Now, go to bed.”

Will showers first, quickly, just enough to feel he’s gotten rid of the lingering hospital smells. As he pads down the hall, he swears he hears a low, mournful voice singing in the living room. He shakes his head in disbelief.

Will quietly lets himself into the bedroom, heart swelling as he catches sight of his husband, buried in blankets, only a familiar mop of dark hair visible. He climbs into bed as quietly as he can, but Nico stirs when Will nudges close to him. He smells a bit like sweat and sour milk.

“Oh good, now I can sleep properly,” Nico mumbles, snuggling closer to wrap himself around Will. He sighs contentedly, head tucked under Will’s chin, tangling their legs. “How was your day?” The words are hot against Will’s chest.

“It was awful. Nico – your dad is here,” Will whispers, still not entirely sure he didn’t imagine it.

Nico lets out a giggle. He pulls back to gaze at Will, looking a bit guilty.

"The last two days have been a nightmare – I was just so desperate for Nora to sleep. I accidentally prayed to my dad, and he showed up."

Will makes a soft sound of sympathy, brushing the hair off his husband's forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn’t here. Does he like… does he know what to... do?”

Nico shrugs. "He had her fast asleep within five minutes of getting here. Said he used to do the same thing with me."

"That’s actually kind of sweet," Will says, letting out a laugh of the ridiculousness of the situation. "Do you think he’s using some kind of Underworld magic on her?"

"At this point I kind of don’t care," Nico admits.

"You didn’t try to send her to the Underworld the old-fashioned way, did you?" Will teases.

"I mean. She is kind of a monster."

Will laughs, pulling his husband back into his chest.

"I just… I love her so much, Will," Nico mumbles, suddenly sounding tearful. "I’d lay down my life for her without a second thought. But I – I also just want things to be normal again. I want to sleep in bed with you all night. I want to eat a whole meal without anyone screaming at me."

Will hums in agreement, stroking Nico's hair.

“This is so hard," Nico whispers.

“I know, love. Why didn’t you call me?"

“What were you going to do? It’s not like you could leave work. I know how busy things have been there for you lately. I didn’t want to give you another thing to worry about.”

Will sighs. "It has to get better eventually, right?" he murmurs. "I mean... people keep on having babies. Some people even have lots of them."

"Yeah," Nico whispers.

Percy had told them as much, when he and Annabeth had come to visit last week. Will had tried to ignore the haunted look in Percy’s eyes.

"Anyway," Nico continues, sounding incredulous, "my dad said he was proud of me for asking for help. And now he's got like, a whole lineup of babysitters planned."

Will giggles. "That should be entertaining, at least," he says, trying to imagine his own father calming their screaming daughter.

"One day at a time, right?" Nico asks, already sounding half-asleep.

"Yeah," Will breathes. He's already planning on getting to work late tomorrow, determined to cuddle his sleeping husband as long as possible. "Hey. I'm proud of you for asking for help too," he says into Nico’s hair.

"It's good practice. For both of us. We can do this, right? We can... parent better than we were parented?” Nico mumbles. His words are sleepy and slurred, and Will squeezes him tighter.

“I hope so. It's got to help that we want to, right?”

Nico mumbles something unintelligible, melting into Will, heavy and warm. He presses his nose into Will’s chest, the same way Nora does when Will wears her in the BabyBjorn.

Will relaxes into his husband's embrace, willing himself not to respond to Nora's every peep and sigh in sleep the way his brain has already become accustomed to. Someone else is in charge, for the moment.

Everything is okay.

- - - -

Notes:

1. Thanks ever so much to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for the beta!! 2. When I was a brand new mom, I had a fantasy that ~something would happen to me - not something terrible, but an accident or injury that would put me in the hospital for a few nights so I could GET SOME SLEEP. It didn't happen. I still survived. :) But man, non-sleeping babies are the absolute worst.

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #fluff #humour #parenthood #hades #rated g

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

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You absolutely CANNOT leave the last doting drabble like that 😭😭😭 my heart can’t take it! I’m so mad right now (at Bruce not at you!💓💓)

Alfred wasn't sure where you'd gone to lick your wounds. The kitchen was too central if you were trying to be alone. Your office would probably not be relaxing at present... And if you were licking your wounds you'd probably not be with Dick.

It was sheer chance he happened across you in the garden. Rocking on a glider, good arm folded against your abdomen, staring blankly into the middle distance. A look he's only ever seen on your face when you've had a particularly nasty phone call with your parents.

And for a moment, he debated the wisdom of approaching you. He knew you wouldn't talk to him about what was happening. So far as you were concerned Alfred's loyalties lay with Bruce... It was one of the things that endeared you to Alfred (and by extension the rest of the staff). You respected the status quo. You didn't want to change it, just to have a place in it.

But when he realized you were crying, he couldn't just leave you there alone.

"It's frirghtfully chilly out here," Alfred said.

"I'm alright, thank you, Alfred." you tell him, swallowing hard.

Alfred, "Nonsense," he said. "If you catch cold your ribs will never heal."

"Alfred. I'm fine i just-" you break off, shivering as you wipe your face on your sleeve.

"I'm afraid I must insist you come inside," he said. Realizing he was on dangerous ground. You didn't have to do anything he said. At all. The fact that you defered to him on anything was a courtesy. But when you haul yourself to your feet with a stifled whimper, waving away his assistance like a horse shooing flies, he smiled just a little.

Under different circumstances, he might think you were being stroppy. But you were annoyed now on top of being in pain. It was abundantly clear you wanted to be left alone. But he was in a mood to meddle. The stalemate had gone on long enough. Tea and Biscuits. He didn't have any with chocolate in them but. Healing from injuries was hungry work and he'd had enough of the skipping meals too.

He slowed his pace, considerably to compensate for your limp- and making sure you wouldn't slip off somewhere. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. It was hard to tell what was on your mind, but you looked entirely too much like a prisoner being lead to the electric chair for his liking. It was clear you were anticipating a scolding.

"It's hardly that dire, Miss Y/N," he snorted. "But if you catch your death Master Bruce will be put out with me."

You make a noise he doesn't know the meaning of, but say nothing otherwise. Allowing him to pull out your chair in the kitchen and sinking into it slowly.

He didn't speak for a while. Putting water on for tea and getting out things he thought you could be tempted- or at least guilted into eating. He put the mug down in front of you, gratified somewhat when you wrapped a hand around it. You were still intermittently shivering.

"I should go back to work- I have people waiting on-"

"Whatever business you've gotten yourself tied up in will wait," he said crisply.

"The IRS waits for no man," you snort.

"What-"

"If it was good enough to take down Capone, well," you shrug. "Once it's out of The hands of the GCPD he'll go broke trying to bribe his way out of things... It should throw a tidy monkey wrench in his opperation for a while."

Alfred blinked for a moment and exhaled slowly. "Well that's-"

"I probably can't do it alone but," you shrug.

"A dangerous game," he observed, pushing a plate towards you, frowning slightly when you ignored it.

"No more dangerous than dressing like a bat and fighting demented clowns."

Alfred snorted, "True enough. Still-"

"It probably won't work. I probably missed something important but, I have to try. Anything is better than nothing. Even if I'm not good enough."

He watches you curl around yourself- at least as much as you can over the protests of your ribs and feels a stab of sympathy. He can't stop you when you leave your cup of tea and heave yourself to your feet.

The only thing he was sure of is that Bruce was going to lose you one way or the other if he didn't loosen his grip. He'd be better served to help you instead of standing in your way.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #doting husband!bruce #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 1 year

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I'm choosing tragedy today. Can I have Yandere allies with a darling that's pregnant ( by them ). She's been trying her best to make it work with them ( but the Yanderes can tell that it's not out of love, it's out of the fact that they'll be having a kid soon ), but it's very hard for her. Soon the stress of being kidnapped and forced to do things against your will caught up to the darling. It caused her to miscarriage. They can remember that dreeded day. The darling was streaming, yelling at that it was all their fault and they had killed their baby with their sick fantasy. From that day on, the darling grew cold and bitter towards them. It's gotten to the point they hardly ( if at all!!! ) considers their existence, and it seems that they'll never let up. I need something very angst-y and depressing please.

FYI: This one is heavy. It took me almost a year to write for this one and I wanted to do it justice. So, I hope it was worth the wait.

Night’s freezing rain beat like a lover’s wounded heart against the old roof. The gentle, constant thrum mixed with the squeak of an old glider were the only sounds that filled the dark nursery.

(Y/N)’s unsteady rocking matched the wet, glazed look in her (E/C) eyes as the empty, white cradle hypnotized her.

Its somber whispers coiled around her. Reminding her of what she had lost, and what could never be. Her damaged fingernails cracked as she dug into the stained wood as the dark thoughts continued. How HE had taken the one drop of pure sunlight that had appeared in months.

A shrill creak accompanied by a harsh beam of white light broke the tormentor’s fantasy. (Y/N) didn’t react, only gliding in the cushioned chair.

Softly, he called her name. A gentle plea for her attention, reaction, anything to prove that his beloved was still alive.

The repetition of her name and pet names grew as his thunderous, slow steps grew closer. Her own frustration bubbled up in the form of dark tears. A low dog-like growl grew from her throat the closer he came.

When his hand touched the chair, stopping the sway. (Y/N) snapped.

“GET OUT!” She stood, barring her teeth. “You have no right to mourn for what you killed! For what you’ve taken from me!”

Wailing, (Y/N) continued her verbal gnashing. Letting the disgusting flood waters flow from the haunted swamp it had been trapped in.

As the tears began to shutter like the slow change of the tide, (Y/N) laid one more verbal sting. “I never loved you.” She laughed hysterically. “The only thing you were good for was being a sperm donor!”

America: The black, leather gloves wrinkled harshly against Allen’s fists. His teeth clicked as he ground them like metal gears forced to a sudden stop.

“I’m” His hand tightened on the glider.” tired of your shit!” The chair clattered and splintered as the force of the push caused it to become embedded in the nursery wall.

Gasping, (Y/N) attempted to stagger back yet Allen followed, offering her no relief. Closing the gap until they were only a hair apart. His finger bruised her breast as he jabbed into the supple flesh.

“He” Allen’s voice wavered as tears pricked his eyes like pins. “Was my son too, and for a time we were happy. You accepted me as your husband. And we WILL be happy again.”

Allen backed up; his flushed face paired with pained tears. “Just give me more time.”

Canada: Matt was silent and stiff as the words reverberated off the nursery walls like a mortuary bell.

(Y/N) watched as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to the point that the bandages around his chest strained to hold the powerful muscles back. He spoke with the exhale; frustration leaking into his tone like a cracked dam ready to burst.

“I understand your hurtin, Maple. But there ain’t any reason to take it out on me.”

Guffawing in shock, (Y/N) could only gasp before she began to spit her venom like a spited Sahara serpent. Numbering her woes like the course, grains of sand in a blood-red desert. Hissing as she described how each moment of forced obedience was as if he stroked her thin skin with a Cholla cactus, leaving slivers of spines and ruby rivers in its wake.

“ENOUGH!”

His roar shook the room, ceramic figurines tinkled as they rattled, and books shifted on shelves as (Y/N) was silenced mid-word.

Still, as the nursery statues, (Y/N) remained frozen as Matt stalked closer. Their eyes locked as predator and prey.

Matt’s heavy breathing fanned her paling face. Whispering, “Enough”. Scarred hands cupped (Y/N)’s face, leading her closer to him. Foreheads softly bumped as they touched. “I get it, Maple. It hurts, and that pain will never go away. But I will remain, even as you fight me, to ease that pain.”

France: (Y/N)’s eyes widened as she slapped a hand against her (L/C) lips. She whimpered like a scared child at the realization of her grave mistake.

She had dared to insult her tormentor. The man that claimed love, but instead showed obsession. A man that privately destroyed anyone that dared to injure his pride.

When François sighed, (Y/N) flinched. Muscles tense for pain and punishment, but he made no move to her. Instead, the frumpy Frenchman reached into his back pocket, seeming not affected by his wife's sharp insults.

He shuffled for a moment before revealing a box of blue and white box Gauloises cigarettes and a simple, black, Zippos lighter. With a quick flick and click, François lit the cancer stick and lifted it to his lips. Taking a long, slow drag before letting the smoke blow like a dragon’s fire.

“Cher,” His voice rumbled like a car driving on gravel. “Are you done?”

“No-o. I’ll never be done.” (Y/N) choked on her whimpers as she backed up shakily. “I’ll always hate you.”

Another sigh from François, this one heavier like a man tired of fighting an uphill battle as he made his way to her glider. The chair creaked as his weight fully settled into it.

The calloused hand with the lit cigarette was outstretched. Inviting her into his lap. (Y/N) didn’t move, only shaking further as she pushed herself against the bars of the white cradle.

“Come, to me Cher. Let’s dream of what our life could have been had our bébé remained with us.” His hand remained out, fingers and palm relaxed further. “And when you are ready, we can try again, but we will never forget our first.”

England: As her final syllable echoed off the pastel, nursery walls, Oliver's look of shock slowly morphed into something more sinister. His cool, blue eyes darkened into the pink slits of an angered Cheshire cat, while his lips rose to show off the large, sharp canines that looked ready to paint themselves with her blood.

“Now, Poppet.” He purred tightly. “Let’s not ruin tonight by acting like the last few months haven’t been wonderful. After all.” His smile sharpened. “I have quite the surprise in store.”

(Y/N) scoffed challengingly as she looked away. Her wet eyes burned holes in the white carpet as she dropped her voice down to a choked whisper. “We weren’t happy. It was a lie to keep my child safe. And now they're gone.”

Oliver’s hardened stare softened. “Not quite dearest.”

As the pastel-dressed man stepped to the left. he revealed a small child standing in the doorway. The light from the hall creating a small halo around their head. The fluffy hair on top of his little head appeared to be made of the softest strawberry-blond silk that curled at the top of his ears. His pale, freckled face was flushed red as his (E/C) eyes bubbled with unshed tears.

(Y/N) noticed that his lips trembled as his tiny hands nervously tugged at the corduroy overalls. Never looked at her, but at the floor, as he slowly shuffled away from their captor.

“Oliver, where did you get this child?”

The questioned man smiled. Though, this one was different from the tight one given moments before. This one was still large, but genuine, warm like the end of a summer day. Somehow that sent a chill colder than the winds of hell down (Y/N)’s spine.

“Poppet, don’t you recognize our son?”

Russia: As (Y/N)’s shout turned to silence; she sneered at her captor. Arms crossed and teeth bared like a starving dog in a fighting ring ready to resist any punishment Viktor would lay.

Instead of the monotone lecture and bruising grasp of his bare hands, Viktor was silent and still. His frown was slight, but his eyes told a silent tragedy. His dull crimson irises appeared darker than normal, almost lifeless by the heavy, purple bags that hung underneath them. His brown hair was unkept rather than the neat sweep of its usual style.

“Милый,” He rumbled with a deep sigh, “I, understand that I am at fault. I caused you too much stress.” Viktor moved closer to (Y/N), his heavy winter boots sinking into the plush carpet with each step. “Destroyed your health to the point your body could no longer maintain our child.”

On Viktor went, rattling off minor inconveniences as if they were deadly poisons that lead to the death of their child. Each one sent (Y/N) further back until her back smacked against the wall. Her cold hands clawed against the painted material searching for something to put between her and the mad beast.

A loud slam against the wooden wall resonated through the room as Viktor placed his hands against the wall. (Y/N) froze, trapped by the large arms of her ‘husband’. Their eyes were locked, red ones full of grief and stress while the (E/C) eyes contained only fear.

His whispers of atonement only increased her fear. Killed her belief that she would ever be free.

China: (Y/N) watched Jin’s eyes shut as he took a deep breath. Then another, his hands curling into tight fists before releasing in time with his breathing.

Like the slow ticking on a clock before a big event, his breathing eventually steadied. His red eyes opened like the heavy, iron gates of castles in eras past.

The tranquil rose-red garden that once lay within his eyes was no more. Withered and greyed flowers were what now remained inside. Almost like the weight of loss had begun to reveal Jin’s true age.

“I know, but will you still join me at her memorial?”

"Memorial?"

"Yes, Qin. Though she never made it to this plane." Jin's breath shuttered as he held back tears. "She still deserved to be honored as if she did."

He held out his hand toward her. A broken smile on his lips as he silently urged her to take his hand. To begin the process of healing.

Quietly, (Y/N) opened her mouth. No sound left her, not even the squeak of a syllable. She shook her head, licking her lips as she lifted her hand. Hesitantly placing it into his.

"Ok."

#2p canada #2p china #2p russia #2p england #2p hetalia #2p america #2p france #2p allies #2p yandere #yandere hetalia #yandere

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kimberly40 · 4 months

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Vintage metal gliders might conjure up fond memories of summers spent relaxing on the porch.

The original designs of these chairs date back to the late 1930's and variations are still being manufactured today.

A glider is a type of rocking chair that moves as a swing seat, where the entire frame consists of a seat attached to the base by means of a double-rocker four-bar linkage. The non-parallel suspension arms of the linkage cause the chair to simulate a rocking-chair motion as it swings back and forth.

Especially popular was the "basket weave" pattern in the hot non-air-conditioned South of the 1950’s and 1960’s. The basket weave pattern is pictured. Red and white were very popular colors for outdoor metal furniture.

(By: Kim Wright)

#memories #furniture #glider #appalachian #appalachian mountains #north carolina #the south #southern life #southern

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karmic-toast · 2 years

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☆The great Albedo Kreideprinz★

Next>> First>>

Warnings: blood, a tiny bit tho

The crack in the broken down bridge was way bigger than the one in the game. It was probably around 2 meters wide- and a 10 meter fall.

“If Albedo turns on us, no way we can all get out of there.” Lumi mutters, peering down into the cave.

“Plus, out of the three of us here, only Bennett has a wind glider.” you point out.

“I can stay here, but one of you has to go.” Bennett suggests as he takes out his windglider.

The two of you look at each other.

“Rock paper scissors?” Lumi proposed, holding out her hand. “Don’t worry, I suck at it too.” she adds, noticing you hesitate.

The first three rounds were tough, with the both of you holding out ‘rock’ again.

“Heh, I guess great minds think alike.” Lumi says, her shoulders tense.

You yourself was starting to get sweaty.

“I have no idea what you guys are doing but it looks intense.” Bennett observes from the side.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” You both say finally getting different results.

Lumi had picked scissors, whilst you… paper.

“Seems like there’s someone worse at playing rock paper scissors than me. I don’t know if I should feel relieved or worried.” Lumi chuckles.

You were too busy mentally preparing yourself to hear her.

Bennett helps you put on the glider and gave you the basic instructions, but you were barely listening.

Should you warn Albedo about Rubedo? But that might change his future. You didn’t want to do that.

“If you really need help, just scream ok?” Bennett tells you.

“Alright.” you whisper, your voice refusing to work.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, if you really don’t want to go, I can do it.” Lumi offers.

You shake your head, but thank her for her thoughtfulness.

You glide down the bridge, and there was Albedo in all his glory, calmly sketching.

“Albedo Keideprinz. Prince of chalk, and creations.“ You start off, internally cringing at the way you worded it.

He definitely was startled but replied in his emotionless voice, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n L/n.” you start off.

“Y/n. You look awfully similar to our creator.” Albedo muses.

“I have been told that many times.” you say, recalling the days before.

“How did you accomplish this feat?” he asks, to which you reply, “I was born this way.”

“How interesting.” Albedo says, sparking hope inside you.

Maybe this would turn out to be a success?

“Well, I shall listen to your story. Then I will decide whether you were worth my time.” he gestures you over to sit in his chair.

You think hard of what to say. You haven’t actually thought of one.

So you opt for the truth.

“6 days ago I woke up in a forrest in Mondstadt. Uhm, I was originally from another world yet somehow I ended up here. I met… a merchant.” you say not wanting to drag Razor into this.

“The merchant brought me to the city, but I was immediately chased out. Then as I was walking, Kaeya found me.” you cringe at your mistake, hoping that Albedo wouldn’t be too mad about what happened to Kaeya. “Then I met another girl who looked exactly like me.” you finish your story.

Albedo’s eyebrows perk up at you mentioning another look-alike.

“A look-alike… did she come here with you?” he asks.

You hesitate. If Albedo did mean any harm you wouldn’t want to risk having her be hunted here as well.

“You.. don’t have to tell me.”

A moment of silence overtook the cave. Then he spoke again. “Although your story is fascinating, it’ll take more to prove that the current creator is a fake.”

Alarm flares through you as he pulls out a dagger which you never knew he had. You open your mouth ready to let out a scream when he said, “I won’t kill you. But I’ll need your blood. Give me your hand.”

Blood? Why would he need your blood? So many questions ran through your head as you tentatively held out your hand.

Then he slices it. You let out a squeak of terror, as you kind of expected your finger to fall off. But the cut was small, and slightly deeper than a paper cut.

He then squeezes your finger.

A gold colored liquid began to seep out.

Albedo lets out a soft gasp.

His clothes make a soft crumpling sound as he kneels.

“Your grace, it’s really you.”

I'm planning on making the next chp long!

Masterlist

#albedo kreideprinz #genshin impact #y/n #fluff #angst #genshinimpact #bennett #sagau cult au #genshin sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau x reader

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amishtraditionsusa · 1 month

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The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect Glider Rocking Chair

A glider rocking chair is more than just a piece of furniture—it's a cozy spot for relaxation, bonding moments, and even nursing your little one.

Visit Our Website:- https://www.amishtraditionsusa.com/collections/glider-rockers

#glider rocking chairs

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raspberrystruck · 5 months

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yall i thought i could take my bedrot to outside rot this morning. was just mindin my own bizniz rocking on my glider and i went a little too far forward and a cat just ran out from under my chair

#a cat that is not mine #i might add

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floridacracker · 1 year

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Can't wait to have a house with a lot of wood and rugs and a grandpa style glider with ottoman. Rocking chairs on a porch. If you enter you could swear the owners are 80

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thatseventiesbitch · 1 year

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i really appreciate the drabble you made 🫶🏻😭 it's so cute, If this doesn't sound too bold, could you make “I’m right here baby, it’s okay” with also donna, eric and little leia, but only if you have time!!, i would not like be too cheeky D:, again, thank you for the drabble❤️‍🩹

Thanks for the ask, anon! I am glad you liked it. No worries - I love prompt requests and am happy to keep going. Thank you for sending this in. 😊 Prompt Ask Game

A weary Eric Forman sighed, tired both from the late hour and the high-pitched wailing that was still coming from his daughter. Despite trying everything over the last hour - a puppet show with her favorite stuffed animals, a frozen teething ring, rocking and bouncing and swaying and then back to rocking, and of course another round of medicine - Leia was still inconsolable. Eric was nearly ready to start crying with her, from frustration.

"Okay sweetie," he murmured into the screaming baby's ear. He'd crossed the nursery and now stood in front of the window, trying one more tactic. "It'll be alright. Shhh."

He started to bounce up and down, moving Leia with him in what he hoped was a comforting rhythm. "Look at all the cars, hmm?" He pushed aside the blinds and pointed out the city street outside their window, where cars and traffic always zoomed, no matter the hour. "Look at the pretty lights, Leia."

The curious babe broke her strangled cry for the first time in what felt like hours. She reached her pudgy, investigative hand forward and Eric leaned in so she could trace the cool glass of the window pane.

"There you go," he murmured soothingly, rubbing her back. She was entranced with what she saw - the yellow, red, and blue lights from the street below flickered across her face and danced in the wet reflection of her eyes. "Good girl," Eric sighed with relief, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. He frowned when he realized she still felt like she was burning up.

The lights only held Leia's attention for a moment longer, but Eric was ready. When she started to whimper again, he flicked the blinds closed and sunk down into the glider rocking chair with her. Leia's fussing got louder, but Eric started to rub her back.

"I'm right here, baby. Shhh. It's okay."

He reached for the teething ring again - still cold from their freezer - and placed it gently against her bright red cheek.

The cold must've felt good against her warm face. Leia jammed her thumb into her mouth and laid her head against her father's chest, finally quiet. Eric continued to trace the cool teething ring across her face, gently.

"Good girl," he repeated, as her heavy eyelids finally fell shut. "That's it, Leia."

Eventually his eyes must've fallen shut, too, because he woke up to Donna above him. She was standing behind the glider, and grinning down at both of them.

"Hey. I think it's my shift now," she said softly, kissing his cheek and touching Leia's soft, fluffy hair.

Eric sat up straighter, befuddled. "How long was I - ?"

Donna shook her head. "I don't know, but you got her down." She nodded to Leia, who was still blissfully asleep in Eric's arms. Donna gently set a hand over her daughter's forehead, and Leia started to rouse. "Seems like her fever broke, too." She smiled at her husband. "Good job, Dad."

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