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epilogue-and-prologue · 1 year ago

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Happiness - Part 3 - Final Part

Fandom: LOTR Ship: Eomer x F!Reader Trope: Arranged marriage Note: Reader is Elfhelm's daughter and I invented a lot for what I didn't know so probably A LOT of mistakes.

Warnings: Dealing with grief, loved one's deaths, depression, SMUT at some point, poverty, war's aftermath, diplomatic relations, pregnancy, blood, miscarriage

Word counts: 6 773

Tags: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

When you woke up the first time, the bed was warm but empty. The sun outside was barely visible behind the mountains, but Eomer was already gone. A sigh escaped your lips, as you snuggled deeper into the covers. It still smelled like him, crackling fire and sex mixed in a musky embrace. You would not be getting out of bed anytime soon, your eyes fluttering close. The second time you woke up, the sun was higher up, but not all that much. A sound had woken you up, a door closing if you could recall. A dip in the bed made you frown before a soft kiss was placed on your naked shoulder. You could smell the spring’s arrival in the air, rain and wet earth as Eomer’s hand slid around your waist, his clothes soft against your back, a sigh of contentment escaping him.

“Good morning, lover.”

His hands were on yours making this place the only one you would be all day if you could. Upon turning around, you were met with a sincere smile and a kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning, Eomer.”

His name in your mouth was the only music he ever wanted to hear.

“Still not pregnant I gather?”

You laughed at the question. You touched your stomach, as if in search of something.

“No, I don’t think so. Would you mind if we tried again?”

He arched a brow, a mischievous smile appearing on his lips, his eyes shining with something you knew to be lust. It mirrored your own.

“Right now?”

You nodded eagerly, laughing when he pulled his tunic off, grabbing your body, caressing every valley and crease. He made good on his promise to be good to you. That day and all the others too. Nights were spent in his company, sometimes just reading in peace, together. Sometimes you were having diners with your parents, hosting diplomatic venues. Others you were dragging him out of his office, by any means necessary, more often than not finding yourself naked on his desk (or against the door). Even as king, he made it a priority to be with you as much as he could, especially after you made him sleep on his own when he prioritized a meeting with your own father over you.

As the winter months came, your appetite only grew. Nausea plagued you in the mornings, and before you could tell for sure, both your mother and Gera as well as the midwife confirmed it. You were with child.

“Eomer?

-Yes?”

You put your hand around your stomach, smiling brightly. It took nothing else from you for him to understand. He embraced you, kissing you deeply, now even more careful than ever as if in the span of a minute you had turned into fragile glass.

That night was spent around the fireplace, talking about future names.

“I was thinking, if it’s a girl, we could go for Brunhilde?

-My mother’s name? What did you do?

-Nothing that could grant her to be angry with me, I assure you.”

His false air of innocence earned him a hit against his chest, half-hearted while you laughed to yourself, wondering what could have happenned for him to suggest such an old fashion name - and that just to appease your mother’s desires.

Eomer turned even more protective of you as the weeks kept on, as you were running around the castle, helping everywhere and anywhere you could.

As you usually would, but he would have none of it. Especially when his sister gave birth, and you asked, begged, insisted to go see her even if it meant that you would go without him.

“I promise to be careful.

-I know you will be, I know my knights will be too. It is not that I am worried about.”

You frowned, unsettled by his words. He was already laughing around the words of his answer, grabbing your hands.

“It is me. How will I cope, these days without you? Without your touch and your care? How am I supposed to survive?

-You will manage I believe. Don’t act like a child. I cannot have two children to watch over once this one is born.”

He arched a brow before pulling you onto his lap and kissing you deeply.

“All things considered, I might just not let you go see this nephew of ours.”

The way he mentioned off-handedly the fact that he was both yours never failed to bring butterflies to your stomach. Instinctively, you smoothed your hand over your belly. His hand joined yours in a pleasant embrace. He kissed your forehead, leaning into you.

“I will miss you. I will join you in the next few days. Sooner, if I can.”

As his hand was drawing soothing circles where it rested, you let your head fall against his shoulder, lulled into a dreamless sleep.

The day before the departure was a heavy one. You had finished packing for the week, hoping the gifts you brought with you would be enough.

“My love, you are going to spoil the child.

-Better that than nothing. He is not mine, if he grows to be incredibly annoying I’m not the one who will have to handle his moods.”

Eomer’s laughter echoed through the room.

“I do hope, for my brother in law’s sake, that it is not the case.”

Before going to bed, you pulled out an extra blanket for the travel, the weather turning chilly this time of year.

In the middle of the night, you awoke to a sharp pain in your abdomen. Only thinking it was another pregnancy symptom, you slipped out of to fetch some water. You did not make it that far. A cry escaped your lips as you found yourself kneeling over on the ground.

“What is it?”

Eomer woke up when you left the bed and now worry was taking over his better instincts. His words were met with silence. Anguished, he reached out for you, in vain. He lit up the candles. What he found was what his nightmares wished they could conjure.

You were on the floor, sobs escaping you without a sound as if you were biting your tongue. Your hands were gripping the sheets at the edge of the bed. A fever seemed to be running through you. What he would never be able to erase from his memory was the pool of blood between your legs, staining the floor, your nightgown, your legs. Without thinking, he caught you in his arms, your tears wetting his chest as he went and called for the healers.

You could barely move. The pain was so strong, you thought you were going to die. Eomer’s hand was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. The words of your mother’s prayers accompanied you as the night grew into a new day. She, as well as yourself knew what was happening even before they told you. The midwives were keeping their heads down, wiping the blood from their hands. They had given you a sedative for the pain, waiting until morning to see if you would live. It was not what you wanted. At that moment, all you wanted to do was die, just like your baby had; a part of yourself gone with them.

Dawn brought news of your miscarriage to the population. The infirmary was soon replaced by a bedroom, Eomer’s ever-watchful eyes never leaving you the whole time. From then on, your shared bedroom was abandoned, the home to this memory too vivid at the forefront of your mind. The names you had uttered and wished for, how they would look like with Eomer’s smile, a whole life in front of them. Now, they were gone, no more incarnation than a breeze in summer. Torture would have been kinder.

Days passed in a blur, winter morphing into spring and then summer and autumn again. Only Gera, your mother and Eomer could approach you. You were thankful he never insisted you talk to him, just sitting with you, sharing his days, and his concerns even when you would not answer.

You only ever left your bed to wash, change into another nightgown and go back. The maids were going in and out of your room changing your sheets and collecting your dirty clothes. It lasted so long, your parents feared for your life. Eomer’s concern could be seen even from a distance, and the whispers of the maids and the midwives were driving you insane.

As spring grew, your body took his own pace again. Your period came back. Eomer was the one to sleep with you when it happened. He felt helpless, cradling your head against his chest, soothing the pain however he could, panic taking you over, uncontrollable tears streaming down your cheeks. It was the final straw, the blood a sign of final death for that baby you lost, as well as a trigger to that night you would never forget.

Another morning in the winds announcing the beginning of winter, another day of loneliness. Eomer had gone to Gondor, explicitly demanded by King Aragorn concerning raids happening at their borders. He was more worried than he had let on to you. He had no choice but to go. You thought it would provide clarity for him, maybe a breath of fresh air, companionship…

All the things you knew you had deprived him of in the last few months.

Gera entered your room carrying a full plate of food at midday, even though she knew you would barely touch it.

“Your Highness, your breakfast is here.”

It was difficult from your windows to see what was happening downwards. The marketplace inside the city was full, but you could not see who was there, the snow covering the ground and shops in a thin and solid layer, as snowflakes kept falling.

“Thank you, Gera.”

The old woman gasped upon seeing your face, before shutting her mouth closed. She knew her place and you hated it. You had not slept that night, your lids becoming heavy without ever letting you rest.

“Milady, if I may be so bold, you should go get changed.

-I am fine, Gera.”

Her eyes stilled for a moment, reminiscing something you could not see. Her tone became commanding, solid stone against you. She would not let you fall into the abyss like this.

“No, you are not.” She put down her tray on a nearby table. “You have not been since the miscarriage. I know I am out of line, but I refuse to let you wither away like this. You will get dressed and you will accompany me outside. I am not asking.”

Stunned, you could not answer her, even when anger and frustration took you over. You knew she would not let it go. Even more so, when she came back with your mother. Her eyes told you more about your state than your own could.

All the dams had broken in her. She was crying and you received her with open arms, finding yourself crying on her shoulder. Only then did you realize, that seeing you like this must have broken her heart into a thousand pieces. What selfish person would put their mother through such pain? All those years and now you knew her grief, now you knew why she could not stop talking about her children passing. They were ghosts accompanying her everywhere she went. Present until her last breath.

Soon, you found yourself embracing one another, kneeling on the ground. Gera helped you get back up, all sniffles and tears herself. As she was about to bow out, you grabbed her forearm, asking for her to sit with you. She did not leave.

Silently, you all shared the food left on the table, hands clasped over theirs in a sign of gratitude. You spent the rest of the day with both of them, strangely accommodating one another, going out and cooking again, for the first time in months. It had been so long since you left your room, you wondered for a moment if you’d remember where to go. Gera was quick to guide you, as your mother kept talking and talking about how the winter had been so cold this year, the older women distracting you from any semblance of loneliness.

They were a bowl of fresh air, soothing your pain a little bit of gossip and tea, at a time.

Eomer’s trip had been silent. Leaving you was the hardest thing he could do. Initially, he had planned to refuse. You were the one who had insisted, telling him he could not put his duty on hold any longer. Seeing his sister felt like a balm to his heart but, when he saw his nephew’s face, his heart broke all over again.

The child was a mere babe still, babbling away at random things, throwing food around. He had been named after a Stewart of Gondor, Thorondir.

He had his mother’s eyes, vivacious and rebellious. He had been letting the boy play with his hair, letting him get it tangled and wet with his slobber. That night, the dark had been quiet, the bird abandoning the planes reaching beyond where his eyes could see. He was thinking of all the memories you both had conjured for that child, the ones that would never come to be.

The night he had found you, his first concern was that he was going to have to watch you die. All the blood you lost had clung to his skin as if it had been his own wound.

After learning of your loss, he knew he had failed you. You were clear with him from the very beginning: you wanted a family. Your dedication and self-sacrifice never ceased to make him proud of you, but what good it did to you, he did not know. His heart clenched, the babe in his arms lulling himself to sleep against his chest. He brought him back to Eowyn, her face a haven of happiness if he had ever seen one. But he had seen one. Yours. Before all of this had happened.

His sister’s hand startled him.

“Lost in thought brother?”

She was putting Thorondir in his cradle, soundly asleep, ever so careful with the small being when she added.

“If you are doing what I think you are doing, let me tell you one thing: this was not your fault. Miscarriages are more common than you would know.

-I…” He stopped, tears forming in his eyes. It stunned Eowyn to silence, her brother never one to show vulnerability before. “I was so helpless… Useless. For all I am, I could not be that for her. I could not be there as I should have.”

The lump in his throat kept him from speaking.

“When I left, her voice was so faint, so frail… She made me promise to keep warm.”

He chuckled, despair distinct in the undertones of his voice.

“Even when so low, she still manages to show care and love for me. I fear she believes I might leave her. I have never felt so lost in my entire life.”

As he was whispering those words, the door opened revealing Faramir, slightly flushed by the evening air, accompanied by somebody Eomer recognized immediately. He stood to his feet in a hurry.

“Your Highness.

-You may ease Eomer. I am here as a friend.”

Aragorn was only wearing his ranger’s attire. He closed the door behind him, Faramir offering him a cup of wine he accepted gratefully.

They all settled a little further away into the rooms, around an oval wooden table, to not wake the babe. Smoke was starting to gather above their heads when Aragorn spoke again.

“When we met earlier, you did not say how much the loss of your child was affecting you.”

Upon his arrival, the King had assured him his thoughts were with him and his wife for their loss. Eomer stayed silent, not feeling capable of articulating any words capable of qualifying what he felt.

“Not many people know this, but Arwen and I found ourselves in a similar situation. She was barely aware she was with child when they were ripped from us.”

Eomer’s tears were making him ache deep inside his chest. For your touch. For you. Who you were before this tragedy. Who he was before too.

“Her grief was overcoming. Her soul shattered. So much so, I feared I was losing her.”

Eowyn and Faramir were gripping each other’s hands, her head resting on his shoulder, as she was watching over her brother, again powerless in helping him grieve.

“Time and only time can heal this wound. The only thing you can do is be there for her, and you must know that your grief is shared amongst the people at this table.

-And I am thankful for that, my lord. Alas, I am at my wits’ end. Every time I leave her room, I fear she… I fear I will find her body the next time I open the door.”

Aragorn’s hand reached for Eomer’s shoulder.

“I know. This fear I have had myself. I know it all too well. In truth, my friend, it will never really pass. All you can do is support her in any way she needs. But I trust you to do so if you have not already.”

The Rohirrim smiled sadly, brows furrowed.

“Only someone who has felt the same thing she has can understand her pain. If she is able, let her know that Arwen would be willing to talk with her on the matter. Considering she just gave birth, moving will not be an option but she offered to write letters.

-This is ever so kind, your Highness.”

He smiled, understanding shining through his eyes.

“No. My wife is the kind one. I am merely the messenger.

-Then, If I may be so bold, thank her for me. And for her.”

These exchanges lasted long into the nights Eomer stayed there and by the end, the pain had receded, the guilt hiding in the nights he could not sleep.

Suddenly, the cold breeze of winter hit Eomer at full force, made him shiver and snapped him out of his memories. The lights of Edoras were dimmed by the snow, he had never been so happy to see them again.

At last, it meant he would see you again.

* “Eomer!”

His steps had first led him to your chambers, and what he found there surprised him. Your mother, Gera and two women he did not know were there, playing a game of cards. You looked less pale than the last time he had seen you and even if your smile did not quite reach your eyes, your embrace was as fierce and strong as he remembered.

“How much I’ve missed you, my love.

-Me too.”

His eyes wandered around the room, bewildered. Feeling somewhat guilty, you pulled him aside.

“I… I hope this is alright. Finding myself in their company when I can’t sleep is very helpful.”

A warmth grew in his chest. Like a flower, you were blooming again, cared for and surrounded by people who only wanted the best for you. He knew you were in good hands. He only hoped to help you grow again from now on.

“You are usually there but since you were not I…

-It is quite alright. I am happy to see you smiling again. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

His lips met the crown of your head, in a departing gesture. You stopped him, a strong sense of longing inside of you.

“We are almost done. Would you wish to stay? I have missed you greatly these past few days. Sleeping without you is…”

His embrace drowned all your worries in a second.

“Of course, I will stay.”

Once the game ended - won by Gera, of course - and the women were gone, Eomer helped you get into your nightgown, before stripping his clothes and going to bed with you. You settled between his legs, his chest to your back. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, before laying down, sleeping a dreamless sleep entangled with you.

After this, Eomer had made a point of spending even more time with you. Going as far as playing cards with the women who surrounded you now. Their names came easily to him when meeting them outside of your “reunions”. One was a merchant’s daughter, she had been married to a man of Rohan long before you, around your age named Hilde and the other was Gera’s daughter, Sofia. He was only now realizing how lonely you had been from the very beginning of your marriage, without the company of other women. Of friends.

You were astonished by the Queen’s offer. It was with a feeble hand you had written the first missive to her. Arwen was a delight. She offered advice and empathy, bonding with you through that shared experience. It was enlightening to understand this situation to be one of many and not only yours, especially considering the envy surrounding the new Queen. She had been somewhat like you, losing her people and embracing a new one she had to learn the ways of. Gracefully some would say. With force and determination, you had come to know. Throughout these exchanges, you formed a deep-rooted friendship akin to the one you had with Eowyn, despite the distance.

Days passed, weeks even bringing the warm air of spring with each passing moment, but something was still missing from your life. Your husband. He was there. Always there for you. You had talked about the grief and sorrow this loss had given you. He had been honest and gentle, always listenning to you.

Never had you mentioned the idea of trying for a child again. Yet, the idea was growing in you, each day, watered by the tales of your friends about their children. The subject was a difficult one, and you were still frightened at the thought that you could lose it again. Yet, even without the idea of having heirs, you were missing Eomer’s touch more than anything. It got lonely, the nights he would spend with you without so much as an attempt to be intimate with you. You dreamed of it, waking up at odds hours of the night, not even entertaining the idea of relieving yourself from this agony.

The desire in you was restless and you could not seem to be able to bear it any longer.

A knock on the door startled Eomer awake. Engrossed in his letters, he had not seen you standing there, nor heard you calling out his name.

“Good morning.”

The soft kiss you placed on his cheek made him warm and yearning for more. Even the faintest touch would light that fire in him. It had been so long since you had shared intimacy, he feared he would not remember how to please you.

“Good morning.”

Your hands were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, eyes cast away from him. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him how much you desired him to be with you again. All those words were neat and in order in your mind. To pull them out of there was a whole other story.

When his eyes were met by your avoidance, his eyebrows furrowed, jaws tightening resisting the urgent feeling of worry deep within his chest.

“What is it, my love?”

The sweet nothings. The sweet nothings were always the things that made you want him the most. Need him the most. He excelled in the art of body language but those words were the only triggers you needed for your body to want him.

He rose to his feet, taking your hands in his. The warmth spread in your cheeks, while his eyes were racking your face in search of what had happened. You gripped his hands tighter in yours, not looking at his face. You would have to face him at some point. You were a Queen after all. Queens did not hide, nor shamed from what they wanted.

Keeping that thought in mind, your grip tightened even more on his hands, before traveling up his chest, where your fingers weaved themselves on the linen of his shirt.

Your tone was so soft, lips red from nervous biting, eyes looking at him from under your lashes. Eomer’s train of thoughts entirely stopped when you pushed yourself up, your lips to his ear. The urgency in your words did not help.

“I want you, now, husband. Or I am going to lose my mind.”

In an instant, he had you over his shoulder his arms secured around your waist, while you were laughing at the audacity. Not one person you stumbled upon while you regained your shared room said a thing about the uncanny position you were in. Once arrived, he let you down, only to dive into your neck, nipping your skin there, while his hands were undoing your corset’s bonds.

“How much I missed you… How I missed your touch…”

There was a hunger in his words that made you ache for him deep in your heart. You grabbed onto his face, meeting his lustful eyes. Despite the presence of desire there, the ever-present adoration had made an appearance too. How much you wanted this man, or how much you cared for him could not be carried into any language known to mankind. Against his lips, you whispered “I love you” in a weak attempt to pour all those feelings somewhere, anyway. He kissed you ferociously, biting lightly on your lower lip. Eomer’s hands grabbed your dress, all but tearing it down from your body. His fingertips found their way up and down your spine, shivers following in their paths. On the other hand, you could not get him to take off any of his clothing which was infuriating you more than anything.

“Eomer…

-Yes, my love?”

Another breathless kiss made you dizzy, as he was expertly walking you back against your bed. You managed to stop him somehow.

“Eomer, get naked, now.”

He smiled against your collarbone, ever so smug in his ways, knowing perfectly the effect he had on you. Nonetheless, he obeyed you in a heartbeat, before pulling you down with him on the undone mattress.

His skin was littered with kisses, leaving behind traces of your passage in the form of bruises he would be unable to hide after the facts. He heaved a sigh at the feeling of your hands on him, the wet sounds of your mouth making him harder than he already was. Before he could stop you, your wicked and sinful tongue languidly wrapped itself around the tip of his cock and he jerked involuntarily against you. He was about to speak, when you pulled him inside your mouth, your hands wandering down his shaft in leisured and measured caresses. He was speechless, mouth dry, running only on the sound of your ministrations and the pleasure it elicited in him.

The whimpers he let out could have made you come in an instant. As much as you liked pleasuring him, you could not wait any longer to have him inside you, rocking his hips violently against yours. You were more than ready for it.

He knew what you wanted the moment you stopped to hover above him, teasing his tip with your wet mound. He cursed under his breath, making you giggle. He loved that sound almost as much as the ones you made in pleasure.

Now, under him, his hair was tickling your breasts in an ever-languishingly slow dance as he positioned himself before you. One movement of his hips and he was inside you. After that, it was impossible to keep yourself from meeting him in rhythm with his thrusts, tearing your name out of him as many times as you could. Your hands were clawing at his back, earning grunts and moans from him. You could feel him hit that spot every time he dragged himself in and out, completely seethed into you, filling you up until you could not tell what day it was.

The rapidly growing coil inside of you finally snapped, your back arching against him, and your mouth opened in a cry. As he felt you clenching around him, his hips stopped and the warmth of his semen sept inside you.

Eomer stayed there, not moving. He met your eyes, a deep frown there and a smile on your face. How he had missed that smile in that light, in that bed, with the feeling of you all over him. He pulled out soon after, tucking you under his chin, the beddings spread around you, modesty long forgotten. The pad of his fingers was a little rough against your skin, leaving trails of shivers behind.

You warmed yourself up in his embrace, pulling a sheet up for good measure. No words were needed when he looked down at you, content and happy, sharing a tender kiss with him.

After that occurrence, you resumed your intercourses almost daily. If a meeting was boring him, he would sneak out and find you. It came to the point, when you were certain every person living within these walls had seen or heard you at some point. Including, to your greatest dismay, your parents.

Upon entering the second year of your marriage, you found yourself pregnant again. Not so unlike the first time, you knew that you were with child but somehow you knew you would bear the child into this world against all odds. Still, the sickness overcoming you, the first months were spent on bedrest, to your greatest regret.

Hilde kept you company while Sofia was talking your ear off about the gossip she’d heard. Your mother and Gera were more silent, always looking at your stomach as if in fear fate would repeat itself. Even when you told them it would not. Specifically, then.

When you finally managed to get up and eat food without rejecting everything afterwards, your routine came back. Cooking in the kitchens, seeing the orphanages and their occupants during their recess at school, eating with Eomer at dinner always, having him eat you out afterwards…

The first months of this pregnancy felt normal and safe. Your belly was growing more and more, your skin stretching, soft scars littering your otherwise unmarred skin. Eomer loved those scars. He said that they were proof of the proper growth inside of you and could not be more proud you wore them. You liked to think of them as traces of your upcoming motherhood and it made you so emotional, you cried a few times at unfortunate moments. Eomer had also learned that your appetite had multiplied as well as your tastes. Spicy food was all you wanted to eat and he had to find a way to get those for you, even in the middle of the night. Poor husband of yours did not know what to do with himself when you were looking at him with those pleading eyes.

A few days into your sixth month, while partaking in a new card game with your friends, you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You had felt movement before but never like this. Somewhat akin to a cramp but not quite like it either. Worry started to grow, but your mother reassured you quickly.

“The baby is kicking my dear.”

The women around the table cooed, trying to get a feel of your stomach. Gera thwarted them all away, in her understanding that it had made her want to kick people when she was pregnant herself. Your mother wholeheartedly agreed.

When you told Eomer that very same day, he paled in an instant.

“May I?”

You nodded, smiling until it hurt. You could not be happier. He kneeled in front of your seat, before pressing his right hand against your swollen stomach. Nothing happened until they kicked again, where his hand was resting. He looked up, bewildered and amazed by the small action, left without words. He had the habit of talking to them before, but now, his instincts were completely going awry, scared to death for both your safeties.

“In the beginning, I felt as if it could still be ripped away from us so easily… But, when she started kicking I knew it was there. Happening. I knew I had to meet her and let her know that I would always be there for her… -How do you know it’s a girl?”

He had kissed your brow, eyes shining with something you did not know. “A hunch. She reaches for me as you do.”

“What do you mean?”

His gaze on you softened, a hand coming to rest on your ever-growing stomach.

“In your sleep, you reach out to me. She does the same thing.”

He kissed the palm of your hand, resting against his cheek, watching as you found yourself crying again, an occurrence he had come to know was harmless even if frequent during this pregnancy. Things were finally looking up. His eyes trailed down to your stomach again, placing a kiss there as a blessing. She was going to be just fine. He was sure of it.

Giving birth, as all the women around you had told you, was the worst part.

Specifically the part when you were begging for relief, Eomer holding one of your hands while your mother held the other the midwife telling you to push and push again as if you had not done it all already. And the worst part was that when your son was born, with light hair and soft eyes, perfect as he was, the pain was not over.

That moment led you to know that you had been pregnant with not one child but with two.

Eomer had been right. Your daughter reached for him the moment she laid eyes on him, and almost instantly stopped crying when carried into his arms.

Such a daddy’s girl, she was.

They would be growing up so fast. So soon.

You could not wait.

“Idis, Alaric, come back here!”

Eomer’s words were lost in the wind as his children ran down the hill, laughing at your slower pace.

“Let them. You know they always come back.

-I know.”

He kissed your brow gently, before changing his mind and whisking you up in his arms claiming your lips in a fiery embrace.

“Yet, they know how to get themselves into trouble quicker than even Eowyn’s son and that is saying something.

-I believe they inherited that from you.”

You smirked as he let you down. His eyes were still focused on the two silhouettes running in the grass, tackling on another to the ground.

“Idis, aim for the legs!”

You smacked his shoulder lightly.

“Don’t encourage them. Besides, I thought women had no place on the battlefield.”

Eowyn had told you about his words for her, years before. Neither of you, ever since he had a daughter, had let him live it down.

“Am I not allowed to change my mind?

-Or, Idis asked, and you yielded.”

He did not say anything, smiling against himself, but you could see the faint embarrassment in his eyes before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, quickly distracting you with feverish kisses.

“Eomer!”

The fact that the children were not far was a problem he did not seem very concerned with. Nor that you were already 5 months pregnant with the third one.

“It is entirely your fault I cannot keep up with the children we already have. Do you really want to aggravate your case?

-How is it my fault?”

In a gentle gesture, you put your hands around your belly. You came closer to him, whispering only for his ears to hear.

“I am pretty sure that you were the one who insisted on having another go with this. If I remember properly, you did everything you could to keep me in bed.

-As if you were resisting it in the first place.”

Faking exasperation, you shook your head at him. Before you could add to your aggravation with the man, your father appeared on the horizon, trotting to him on his horse. Once he reached you, he kissed your cheek tenderly and saluted his king.

“I am sorry to interrupt the family time but the emissaries have arrived.

-Eowyn and Faramir have arrived? I thought they were not due before tomorrow.

-Well yes and no. They arrived with company, and I am afraid that we’ll need more rooms.”

You exchanged a look with Eomer before you called back the children once more, this time bribing them with horses time. And grandpa. They adored their grandpa and it was adorable to see them run circles around the man.

“Well, I assume two Hobbits are in the midst?

-Yes, my lord.

-As well as a family of Gondor’s royalty?

-Yes, indeed my lord.” Eomer met your eyes, as you tried to keep the children from climbing the horse all on their own. You laughed at his bewildered face.

“That is all?

-Well, not exactly. You see, the Hobbits seem to have brought with them their families and Hobbits have very extended families. As well as numerous friends, such as a famous fellowship, they organized to reunite here.”

Before he could implode under the implications it would have, you stopped your husband’s train of thoughts.

“Eomer, I have organized for this. We were warned by your sister so I prepared the castle accordingly. She mentioned not telling you about it, but I fear you might faint if the surprise lasts any longer.

-You knew?”

His eyes grew serious. The children knew it all too well. It was these eyes they saw when they misbehaved.

“Ohoh, Mum’s in trouble.” Idis laughed behind her grandpa’s legs. He picked her up with some difficulty, holding her on his side. Elfhelm smirked at her reaction. “Yes, Mum is indeed in trouble. Come on little beasts, let’s get on grandpa’s horse and go back to the castle alright?”

Cries of glee erupted from the twins as he settled Idis in front and Alaric behind her. The three of them seemed rather amused by the situation, laughing as they trotted back towards the castle’s entrance.

You were now face to face with Eomer’s stern looks.

“You are in so much trouble.”

Your King was a lot of things but a skilled liar was not one of them. Soon, his face broke out in a mischievous smile, and you bolted knowing all too well what it meant.

He caught up with incredibly fast, tumbling you both down in the wild flowers, although he made sure he would be taking the most of the fall. Your wrists ended up loosely pinned to the ground, your husband looking down at you, an arched brow and that air about him that made you doubt you’d ever fall out of love with him. Pure adoration was not too much of a word to use when it came down to that face. It looked like your own, of that you were sure.

“What can I do to get out of this trouble, my lord.

-You know I hate it when you call me that and for that you shall pay.”

He smothered you kisses, tickling your sides until you were both breathless besides one another. Eomer’s fingertips traced down the shape of your face softly, before you cupped his hand with your own.

“We should be going.

-No.

-Eomer…

-No, I want to keep looking at you like this for as long as I can.”

He shushed you with a kiss you would not forget soon, cradling your face and neck with his hands, warm and flush against your skin.

This was a moment you would never forget, for all the moments with him were memorable. Everything you had lived through, the heartbreak and the harshness of parenthood sometimes, the loss of your mother a year after giving birth. Now you knew. Of all the marriages you could have had, only wishing for contentment for this one was a mistake, for you were happy and no one could take it away from your family. Not now, not ever.

For as long as you had each other, the story would continue and you would be alright.

Always.

#lotr fanfiction #lotr imagine #eomer x reader #eomer x f!reader #tw: sex #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy #tw: birth #tw: blood #tw: mental health issues

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bebemoon · 1 year ago

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a strange dream. i gave birth to a clutch of tiny demonic cherubs- a little smaller than the palm of my hand yet chubby-bellied and pinioned with these nasty waxy little wings. they stayed with me, complaining in high-pitched, insectile-like cries for pin-pricks of blood from the tips of my fingers. i disliked them- they could've been crushed as easily as dry autumn leaves- but i couldn't bring myself to it... they slept curled in my hair. awful little things that needed me. what could i do

#personal #night visions/daydreams #tw: birth #<#just in case

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luminaryofblood · 2 months ago

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... The indecisiveness of...

Whether Mohg gives live birth or lays eggs.

Like, those are two different ideas but I'm kinda an absolute sucker for both.

Him resting in his nest, with a hand on his belly as he feels the gentle kick of tiny little feet in his belly...

Brooding over a clutch of eggs. Every now and again chirping to the clutch, and you can just see the look in his eye when he hears a chirp back in response.

The apprehension as the day draws closer.

The absolute utter relief when the ordeal is over. And he's surrounded by the most adorable little Mohglets.

#{{outofbloodboon}}#tw: birth #... I mean I guess the tag kinda says enough as to what's underneath that readmore! 😅#But man I am like... An absolute sucker for big scary monster showing moments of absolute soft tenderness.#Also any kind of offspring he has is guaranteed to be absolutely adorable.

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moonrisemoonchild · 3 months ago

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Baby update: I have been in early labour for 36+ hours. I can't eat, I can barely sleep, and my entire body aches.

I am going back to the hospital today so they can see if I have progressed at all. At the very least maybe I can get an IV because I feel so drained. I'm hoping they decide to induce me today. I can't take more days of this.

#personal #tw: pregnancy #tw: birth #tw: hospital

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gorgosim · 9 months ago

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Generation 16 is born! Welcome to the sims world, Apollo. 💜 Elara's labor took about 16 hours, she intended to have a fully natural birth originally, but after a couple hours of labor pains, she caved and got an epidural. Luckily Lucia, Ella, Leilani and Christos took amazing care of her and were extremely patient. You don't go in labor and not have an episode of frustration or two. 😅

#tw: childbirth #tw: birth #s4 #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #clc15 #collectorslegacy

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lucie-newman · 5 months ago

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Precipitous.

It's a fitting word. It's the cliffs at Black Beach, California where the rocks drop twenty jagged feet into clear blue water. It's her bare wet feet and the balance and the moment she looked over the edge. It's the breath she took before jumping, stretching out all her limbs like a starfish, and dropping. Freefall. Unstoppable.

It's labor.

This isn't written about in advice columns, or played out on screen. Labor doesn't announce itself at the doorstep. The back pain she's struggled with all this last trimester hides a multitude of symptoms; is the symptom. And her water doesn't break right away, her contractions don't build slowly. There are no Braxton Hicks. She's three weeks early, she's alone when it starts, and, as her father would say:

"Give it what you got."

She's out by the old chapel Cage rebuilt taking pictures when it happens. When the back pain she's been rubbing at with increasing annoyance twists suddenly inward and something unspools inside of her and -

Oh!

Oh, fuck!

It's a contraction. It's pain squeezing her tighter and tighter until the camera drops from her hands. And when it loosens, when she can breath again, she thinks: that's fine. Just one. One strong contraction. Nothing to -

And then the second piggybacks the first.

Reception is a little spotty this far off the road. There's a voice in her head that sounds like her father, like her older brothers, like a drop of reason in a bucket of insanity. Not advised. But then, she didn't think she'd go early. When in all her life has she ever even been punctual? It's one day late on car insurance with an apology and a promise. It's two hours late to a party with a smile and a story.

But then, this isn't her entrance.

Panic makes a nest in her chest for a moment, scratches at her heart. She rests back against the bark of a willow tree and lets it play out. There's no use fighting it. The baby's awake, kicking at a rib urgently when a third contraction ripples through her. "Yeah, yeah," she tells them, breathless. She sweeps a hand from breastbone to hip. "I'm afraid too."

Of what's happening, yes. Of motherhood, surely. But of all the rest too. Age and boredom and bills and vulnerability. It's the pulse under her skin that she's been ignoring. The old unspoken fear, rare as it could be, that what happened to her mother could happen to her.

But honestly, fuck that.

She pushes herself from the tree and walks best as she can down the beaten path toward her car. She's left her backpack, her water bottle, and her camera behind clutching only at the phone in her hand and waiting for those signal bars. It's a journey made in broken acts. Halted by the contractions that take hold and squeeze. And damn if those classes don't mean shit. She can breathe. She does breathe. But none of that helps when she's being funneled downward. So she curses. Lot's of fucks and shits and then some more inventive things that would make her grams blush. She kicks at a fallen log, half bent over when one particularly strong one takes her under, and that helps too.

She thinks of birth playlists and the classical music some women luxuriate in - she thinks of epidurals and the sweetness of a warm bath right now. She thinks for one horrible moment that she's not going to make it out of the woods. She trips, cuts her knee open on the bits and brambles of the forest floor, and screams. Frustrated. Primal. Her throat aching from it. If there are hikers up this early, before the forecast showers they'd hear her. But there's no answer except the birds - scared mute for a moment - and then swooping back in to fill the silence. There's no choice though. She pulls herself up and keeps walking.

The hike out to the chapel took thirty minutes, the return trip takes just over an hour. She's coming out to the gravel parking lot when those bars flicker back and she could cry with relief. She's in no state to drive so she dials 911 as she drops onto a large rock near her car. The operator is a sweet, older woman that stays on the line with her for the twenty minutes it takes to get an ambulance out there.

"You got a name, Lucie?" she asks, talking her through a contraction.

"Several." She bites out. "Thinking I got to-" she grunts and the woman waits it out with her, "-see them you know? Got to see if they look like a Piper or a Ziggy."

"It's a good day this one. Great birthday."

"Yeah?"

"National Chocolate and Peanut Butter Day."

It makes her laugh, makes her unclench her fist just a touch. "You look that up?"

"I did. You want to know who they'll be sharing it with?" She does and the woman says "Woody Harrelson."

"Sweet."

"And Kathryn Hahn."

Lou huffs, tips her head back into the sun. "Legend."

The baby twists, moving fast beneath her hand. She almost can read their agitation. Wishes she could tell them it's going to be alright but her water breaks before the ambulance arrives and she starts to hyperventilate.

"It's okay Lucie. They'll be there any minute. Can you hear the sirens?" She does. "Your going to be just fine, mama."

Things move fast after that. She's loaded into the back of the ambulance and strapped to monitoring equipment. She watches the squiggles of her baby's heartbeat to distract from the pain, from the contractions that start piling up one on top of the other. This was supposed to be a long process. Hours upon hours, those were the words. But it's not. She asks is something is wrong, her voice thin with worry. Someone holds her hand. Someone else asks if they should call her partner. She laughs, tells them no, then thinks of her siblings. She pulls up the group chat and shakily types out two words.

Hospital. Now.

It's not eloquent. It's not joking. And she's speeding down the country road she learned to drive on when the urge to push hits. She thinks she should have called Ari. She thinks he should be here. She doesn't want to be alone for this. But then, she isn't really. She hasn't been alone for near on nine months.

In the end, none of her siblings will make it there on time. In the end, she doesn't even make it there on time.

Her son is born pink, angry, and loud two minutes before arriving at the hospital.

#para #ft. babynewman #tw: birth #tw: precipitous labor #tw: panic attack #tw: death mention #those are a lot of scary tags #but it's okay #lou is fine #baby is fine #just trust me you'll be fine;#birth tw #panic attack tw #death mention tw #labor tw

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hirak0s · 3 months ago

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Kiku's Delivery (Service)

Written by @uraharashouten and @hirak0s

As Ayame was sewing in the sewing room of the Shōten, a song came on the radio that put a smile on her face and a picture in her head: one of her and Kisuke dancing to 'Can't Help Falling in Love'. Dancing above Karakura Town on a beautiful fall night with the moon above them? It sounded so lovely.

Getting to her feet, she'd start dancing to the music. There was a stumble or two, but nothing she couldn't recover from. The woman continued dancing until... "ah?" She looked down at the floor and then up at the ceiling. A leak? From... where? It didn't look like there was one above.

Sensing something amiss, Kisuke poked his head in. “Is everything all ri—” His eyes grew wide as he took in the scene. “TESSAI!!”

“Was dancin' t' Elvis an' I think I’ve sprung a leak~” She seemed unfazed about it for the moment.

Despite a slight panic rising within, Kisuke tried to school his voice to a calm, even tone. “I can see that. TESSAI!!”

“Y'think he's sleepin'? Ah-” And now there came what must be the first of the contractions.

Kisuke rushed to hold her, rubbing her lower back firmly. “Is this it? This is it, isn’t it?”

“I s'ppose it is! Time fer our froglet t' show herself. I didn' think I'd be havin' her in the sewin' room.” She giggled and held onto Kisuke.

“Oh, I don’t think you will be! These things take a while, I’m told… especially with the first.”

Tessai appeared in the doorway. “Tenchō?”

“Oh, I didn' know... Wish I coul'a had some'a mom's advice fer this…” but she didn't... However, she did look up at Tessai when he arrived, “She's comin'!”

His eyes widened, but he stoically squared his shoulders. “I am at your service, Ayame-dono. Let us go for a walk.”

“Walking? Now?” Kisuke was aghast.

“It helps labor to advance. But we will go slowly, and pause when Ayame-dono is struck with contractions.”

“I don' mind walkin'.” She didn't seem to be in pain at all... At least not yet. “‘Least tha’ last one didn' last very long.”

“They will get longer, and closer together.” Tessai was guiding her to the courtyard.

Kisuke followed along. “This is so much less predictable and controllable than decanting…”

Ayame followed Tessai along and seemed to be doing fine as she walked. “Decantin'? How's ‘at work?” She spoke as she walked... While looking for some butterflies in the courtyard. Ah, butterfly-less today, it seemed… and the sky was looking dreary. Was it going to rain?

"Decanting..." Oh, this was so new, so different, where even to begin? "Ururu and Jinta didn't have a mother. —Well, let me revise that. Of course, genetically, the material came from... somewhere..." He gave a vague hand-wave. "But there was no maternal vessel, as it were, involved in the incubation process..." He'd stepped forward to be beside her, and was now applying firm but continuous counter-pressure to the small of her back. "I think... I wanted to avoid... well, this." He gave Ayame a pained smile. It would be worse, much worse, before it got better; this he knew intellectually, and now they'd both know it in their guts, in their bones, in their core... it would be unpleasant for her to endure, that much was certain. He'd have to trust in her strength, and Tessai's skills... "So: instead, I used sterile incubation chambers." He nodded to her. "Ah—jars, if you will. And when Ururu and Jinta were... ready... they were decanted."

Ayame felt his hand at her back and tried to lean forward more... but her belly... and her balance wouldn't let her. Center of gravity changed along the way, so leaning back was the way to go. "Ya wanted t' 'void someone carryin' the baby 'roun?" At least that's how she understood the situation. "Ah... So they were from large jars instead'a someone carryin' 'em 'roun' fer so long." She didn't know what she was in for, but she did read some books and things online about the process. She was strong enough to go through it.

Oops— he hadn't meant to push her forward; more to massage against the pain of contractions... he lightened his touch. He supposed he ought to allow her to let him know when it was needed, rather than presuming. "It wasn't so much carrying them around—it was the delivery process that..." His face wrinkled. "It seemed like asking so much... from someone who wouldn't be ah... invested in the outcome." Guilt crept across his face at that. It was true, if only because that person was kept unaware of the outcome. "This, admittedly, is a different situation..." Where was Tessai leading them? They'd been winding their way around the engawa; he seemed to be doing laps...

She let out a sigh from his touch, "My lower back's buggin' me... but it's been fer a while." With the baby, of course it had been. "Oh, yeh I think I understand, they ain' keepin' the baby, but givin' it up t' you." But wasn't there something in the western world about that? A person carrying another baby for someone? She read about that once too. "But this time, they're keepin' the baby... with you." There was a sincere smile on her face, as she looked up at him.

"Well... there was a bit more to it than that." Kisuke languidly rubbed her back, kneading a bit here and there. "I wasn't... truly prepared to reveal the products of my genetic dabbling to... well, anyone else." It was a confession a long time coming. "Aside from Tessai, that is."

Tessai, for his part, stoically continued leading them on the third lap around the engawa.

"Can't wait t' see her face. Think we're gonna spoil her? Gonna have the warehouse, siblin's, uncles an' aunts, us, Tessai. Gonna be a lotta spoilin'. Oh..." She felt another contraction coming before slowing down to stop, unsure if she was supposed to stop walking while having them.

Kisuke smiled as Ayame alluded to the future... and then paused with concern as he noticed her falter. "Are you all right? Do you need a moment?"

"J-just a minute..." She was struggling for a moment as the contraction finished... "I don' know much 'bou' genetic dabblin' but maybe ya coul' tell me more while we walk 'roun'?" Would she understand? Maybe if things were explained simply enough. Wait, had he not told her brother about this? Weren't the two quite open to each other about things? "How long d'ya think this is gonna take?" She wasn't too sure, figuring that Kiku should be born... soon. How many times have they gone around so far...? Did she already lose count?

"To explain genetic dabbling?" Kisuke seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Oh!" Labor... of course that's what she meant. He found himself at a bit of a loss there. "Tessai?"

"It should be complete within twenty-four hours. If it is not, we must take drastic measures."

She did want Kisuke to explain to her what Genetic Dabbling was... when it pertained to having Ururu and Jinta. "Hopin' soon..." She'd get back to moving forward again after that contraction.

However... Tessai's words caught her ear. Oh, she didn't like the words 'drastic measures'. "T-twenty four hours????" However, that's what came out of her mouth first, "w-what kinda drastic measures? I'm sure she's comin', just takin' her time. Own pace an’ all."

"There are methods for expediting a birth in such cases. Humans developed the forceps and the Caesarian section for doing so. But I suspect Tenchō may have a less intrusive method."

"I do?" It took Kisuke a moment to consider what Tessai must mean by that. "I do!" A device capable of removing foreign objects from souls without incurring any damage... "I suppose... that would work!"

She was thinking of what forceps were like and wanted to continue walking around for a while longer. If dancing is what got this started... Maybe she could do that again? "Kisu~pyon? D'ya wanna dance? Woul' 'at help a bit?" Walking around was getting a little boring. Was this five now? "Was doin' it 'fore the contractions started, so... shoul' maybe dance again? Wha'cha think?"

"You knoooow...." A slow smile crepts over his face as he paused beside her and turned to take her in his arms. "It miiiight~" He shot Tessai a questioning glance.

"Ayame-dono is correct. Movement in general will shorten this phase of labor, speeding up the process as a whole."

Any movement? Then dancing will work! "I kept lookin' fer butterflies an' didn' see any while walkin' roun'... three, four? Five? Times?" She genuinely didn't count.

"Well! I believe we've exhausted the potential of the engawa," he announced, with cheerful apology, to Tessai. "One may stroll about the courtyard only so many times, after all, before it loses its charm. To the freight elevator!" And at this point, he would take the lead, steering Ayame with a gentle hand at her waist to the entrance ahead.

Ayame gasped with joy before giggling, a bright smile returning to her face as she followed Kisuke, led by his hand at her waist. "Wanna listen t' what I was listenin' t' while sewin?" Though it was on the radio... "Might not be the same song tha' was on earlier."

He gazes at her with amusement. "A problem easily solved. Iroha!"

"What is your request, Urahara-sama?" An obsequiously pandering gender-neutral voice lilted in response.

Kisuke spoke to the device he'd retrieved from his pocket. "Please identify and play a recording of the song that Ayame-chan will now sing." He held the phone out before her. "Just a few bars ought to do—"

"W-wait y' wan' me t' sing it, I coul' just hum it?" She was panicking slightly. All of a sudden, self-conscious of her singing voice. Of course, right when there's an audience. Even if it was an audience of two and a phone that was supposed to help her find a song.

"Oh— well, if you're comfortable. The lyrics would help... but you may try humming at first. Iroha, can you discern the song from the tune?"

"I will certainly try, Urahara-sama,” purred the device. “When you are ready.”

Ayame started humming the song 'Can't Help Falling in Love' to the phone, hoping that the assistant could help them out. If not, she could try singing... hopefully she wouldn't be too bad?

"Ayame-sama is humming the song, 'Can't Help Falling in Love', originally recorded by Elvis Presley. I will play that for you now." A tick after the mellow, synthetic voice grew silent, the first strains of the song began.

It was at this point that Tessai would clear his throat, holding open the door to the freight elevator, at which they had been standing for the past ten seconds or so.

"Mh? Oh—" Kisuke was pulled out of his reverie long enough to usher Ayame inside. The door closed behind the three, and the music playing from the phone's speaker filled the chamber.

Ayame started humming with the music and heard Tessai's throat clear... had they been standing there that long? "Oh ah! Sorry." She followed along with Kisuke, listening to the song playing. The woman couldn't keep herself from dancing and would start. Mostly swaying her body to the melody. Her feet would move along with it, but it was mostly swaying around.

As the elevator descended, Kisuke reached for her and the two began to sway. It couldn't be said that there was any particular grace nor design to his movements; sometimes, he'd pull her in close, and sometimes he'd give her freedom to turn or twirl. It was not a perfect rhythm they kept, but somehow it was so engrossing that they'd reached the bottom before he knew it. Once again, Tessai was pointedly holding the door for them to the underground training area.

Ayame was humming along with the song and... almost singing at points. She danced along with Kisuke and twirled herself around. The woman was fully distracted by dancing before they got to the bottom. This felt like the right song for her to be having a baby to...

If this was the song that instigated the event, Kisuke reflected, it seemed fitting that it be used therapeutically to ameliorate her symptoms. And, well... not merely for that reason. He was, if he were honest, a sentimental soul. He took her by the hand and drew her with him onto the dusty terrain. It may not be a typical dance floor, but there'd been plenty of 'dancing' here before.

Ayame held his hand and followed along. Once out of the elevator, she'd get back to dancing with him... once again pausing once the contractions started... but this time rebounding from it quickly. Dancing was indeed helping her forget... or well, more ignore that pain.

"Take my hand... take my whole life too..." She did end up singing loud enough for Kisuke to at least hear her.

And so he did, smiling brightly.

After a space, he began to sing along. By and by, the song ended, only to be replaced by another in a similar vein. Iroha must have generated a playlist.

Ayame smiled, knowing this one too. Being in the world of the living for an extended period did teach her some new songs. She'd dance along to this one, not sure of the lyrics entirely. And there were two contractions through this one, spaced apart, but they did cause her to falter a little. "This is helpin' me a lot." But how much dancing was she going to have to do before Kiku came along?

"I certainly hope so! —But not to worry, we'll give you a rest when you can no longer bear to be on your feet." For now, though, she seemed to welcome the distraction, so he leaned into his role as lead dance partner, crooning along. "Fill my heart with song, let me sing for evermore..."

Ayame laid her head on Kisuke's chest and danced close to him to this song... It felt like a slow dance to her. But she wasn't exactly quite a good judge. She hummed along to his crooning, since she didn't know this one quite yet.

While the pair danced across the packed earth, Tessai continued to monitor Ayame's progress. His methods might have been unorthodox if viewed from a human perspective; they were certainly far less hands-on... but he would leverage the work of months, a carefully-crafted fusion of reikaku and kaidō, to keep abreast of developments and the progression of her state.

There were giggles and joyful squeals while she danced with Kisuke. And once in a while... she'd also sing along to something she knew. It just took a moment to break that stage fright.

It was after several hours of dancing and strolling, punctuated by the essential rest, that Tessai became concerned. "Ayame-dono... I believe it would be best at this point for us to retire upstairs to the Recovery Room."

At some point, Ayame had gotten tired of being on her feet... Wanting to dance more, but the contractions just kept coming at this point. She was depending more on Kisuke to keep her moving, even if she was enjoying it. "Hmm? Okay~" There was a tired smile on her face as she turned to Tessai... Her hand reached for Kisuke's.

Tessai would usher them all back into the freight elevator to ascend, grateful for this addition to the Shōten. He would not ask of Ayame at this point to make reishi footholds. The reiatsu of the soul within her was becoming urgent, impatient, and thus it was imperative to relieve as many burdens as he could.

Ayame would start breathing deeper after stepping foot inside the elevator. She was leaning comfortably against Kisuke, an arm wrapped around him. Her head nuzzled against the side of his chest. "Y'ready fer this?"

Kisuke regarded her with a complex mix of anxious amusement. "Am I ready? I believe I have the easy part." Though it would not be easy watching his sunshine disappear behind the coming storm... he hated to think of her in such pain.

Once back up to the ground floor, the time for rest was over, and she stepped out of the elevator. Lost in his thoughts, Kisuke walked beside her, hand-in-hand, until they reached the Recovery Room. Tessai had led them purposely to the waiting room, where Ururu was tending a steamer packed with clean hand towels.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." Kisuke could see that there was a futon at the ready, but he couldn't possibly predict what posture she might choose at those words. From what he'd read, lying on one's back was in fact one of the worst in terms of childbirth—so he left it open to her interpretation.

Ayame walked into the Recovery Room with him and looked at the Futon. "Coul' I just sit fer a bit? Y' think that'll work?" It wasn't lying down, but that's what she felt would be comfortable. "An' ya coul' sit behind me." That'll have her lean into him and to her... that was comforting.

She got to work getting her thumbs under her waistband and eased her pants off. Thanks to how traditional her undergarments were, she was in fundoshi, which weren't hard to remove at all. Those were both wet and pushed to the side before she sat herself down on the futon, taking in a deep breath.

Kisuke watched her unceremoniously disrobe. Ever the pragmatist, wasn't she? Ayame's occasional shyness had never extended to being overly conscious of her own body, nor did it now. He appreciated that about her. "If that would be helpful..." He took a seat behind her, legs wide and bent so as to be her bolster. His hands settled atop her hips so that his thumbs could continue to massage the small of her back. "And now... we wait?"

"I'm thinkin' so? With how fast those contractions were coming." She leaned back against his chest as she hummed softly as she sat there with him. It was comfortable... Just sitting here with him—even if she wasn't pregnant, this would be a nice way to sit with Kisuke.

She felt the next one hit, and it lasted longer than the previous one. Or was this the many contractions happening at once? "Th-there's a lotta pressure!" She took a deep breath and tried to hold it for a second before letting it out.

"You seem to be bearing it well," he murmured, nuzzling at her temple. "Would you like a hot towel?" He glanced over at Ururu.

"It might feel soothing on your belly or back," she agreed. "But also, you should probably be sitting on one."

"Sittin' on one?" Well she wasn't going to argue really. Not that she was someone who would ordinarily! Ayame lifted herself up enough to get a towel under her. "Coul' use one fer my belly. Kisuke's got my back handled fer now. Thank ya Ururu."

Tessai cleared his throat delicately. "The moist heat will aid in skin elasticity. Please let us know when it grows too cool."

Ururu handed her a warm towel for her belly.

Ayame took the towel and put it on her belly. "So tell ya if both'a em get col'... Got it." She was trying to relax for a moment and another contraction came along to break up the quiet. The poor woman put out a pained groan as it went on. "Come on out, Kiku!" And it was over. "...awh." And a groan of defeat as the contractions were not yet enough.

The passage of time seemed to lose meaning; it was almost as if the two fell into a sort of trance, marked by the minutes between contractions, of cooled towels being swapped for hot ones. How much time went by? An hour, maybe two?

And then—a shift. Kisuke glanced up sharply and caught Tessai's eye—he'd noticed it too.

"Ayame..."

Ayame had been waiting for an hour or two, the contractions doing their thing. Progress... But it sure didn't feel like it. Though they were getting stronger and closer together. She swore she held onto the futon so tight her nails embedded into it. And then... She felt it, "I'm thinkin' this is it?"

"Oh!" He shifted his position behind her to allow her to lean back, resting her head in his lap, and Tessai moved into position.

It was a strong contraction and starting off rather painful, but it quickly ramped up as that contraction had no chance of stopping.

He motioned for more towels, and hands emitted a green glow as he applied his healing art, coaching her to push with every subsequent contraction. After several iterations, he could see the top of a scalp. "She is crowning, Ayame-dono. Just a few more pushes!"

Ayame was letting out a pained cry as her body pushed the baby out.

It would be Tessai’s joy to draw out the first new soul to be born—actually born—in the Shōten. He dabbed at the bundle with more fresh towels until…

Until... There it was, a cry.

“It looks like I have a baby sister.” Ururu gave a tiny smile. “I’ll take these and bring more fresh ones,” she announced, gathering up soiled towels and stepping from the room.

Gently, Tessai delivered the newborn into Ayame's waiting arms. "You have already selected a name?"

And the moment she had been eagerly waiting for... the chance to see their daughter's adorable little face. The little one seemed to have calmed down for the moment. "Yeh, went with followin' the theme'a namin' girls after flowers.” A theme that seemed to have started even before her own mother. “But, Kiku can have a double meanin'.” She took the babe in her arms. "Hello there... Kisu~pyon look... Our little Kiku." Her throat was a little sore, causing her voice to crack and be hoarse.

He was staring in wonder at the bundle in Ayame's arms, eyes brimming with sudden moisture. The thickness in her voice caught at his ear. "It's all—" His voice cracked a bit; he started again in a hoarse murmur. "It's all conceptual until the actual baby is... right there..."

Even Tessai felt the sudden need to clean his glasses, and applied the last of the fresh hot towels to his face. "My congratulations to you, Ayame-dono. You have done well. And to you too, Tenchō, for your supporting role."

Kisuke let out a long, slow breath. "I believe congratulations for my role are a bit premature. We shall see in another eighteen years, I suppose, whether I've truly earned them..." His voice trailed off as he reached around Ayame to let his knuckles graze the silky-soft cheek of the tiny new life, wondering whether this version of events could be considered the easy way, or the hard way. "Well. Up until this point, I'd say you've put in all the effort, but..."

"Kisuke... Yer kinda the other half'a her right? Ya shoul' be congratulated too. She's both'a ours." She held the small bundle to her chest and let out long breaths... she was still a wee bit out of breath from birthing, but doing alright! The pain was mostly gone.

The other half of her…

"Half yours, half mine..." he echoed softly, feeling both the weight and the wonder. "Do you realize, I've never put anything of mine into a new soul, until now..." It must truly be said that, for once in his life, he had skin in the game.

"Well, ya sure can't be sayin' that anymore." She giggled softly, still leaning against him. "D'ya need me t' sit up an'... ya wanna hol' her too?" Then there was the fact... whose last name was this baby taking? "Wha' family name's she takin'?"

"You needn't ask—" He was already shifting beneath her, helping to prop her up, so that his eager hands could take the squawking little bundle. He held it to his chest, leaning his cheek against the top of a fuzzy head. "Kiku," he intoned softly. "Kiku..." He was at a bit of a loss, himself. "It doesn't seem right to dub her 'Urahara' when she's only half mine," he admitted.

Ayame sat herself up better, so her love could sit himself up. She shifted carefully to hand off their bundle. And squawk Kiku did, not sure what the movement was, she let out a little cry as she was moved from hand to hand. Once settled, she'd stop her fussing.

"She's half'a mine, too. Coul' we take both'a our names?" That was a solution, trying to get creative with their own family names to give to her.

"Both of them...? That seems rather a lot of complication with which to saddle a natural child..."

"Yeh I know. But..." Hyphenating a name was such a western thing, wasn't it? Not like they could do that. It was either take one of their last names or they could take their names to give her something new...

But of course, even as Kisuke said the words, he realized the answer presented itself. "Ko..." Their natural child. "...hara?"

Ayame nodded. Hirako and Urahara together did make a very cute name, and her given name combined with it... had a good ring to it. "Kiku Kohara... Tha's such a pretty name. Our little flower."

"A wild chrysanthemum we plucked from a field," he chuckled. "When she asks where she came from, that will be the answer she gets." He nuzzled the top of her head again, inhaling her warm scent. "I wonder how long it will take her to grow too clever to be fooled, hm?"

"I'm thinkin' she's gonna be a smart one an' we're gonna be the ones try'na keep up with her at some point. Smart an' creative... We're really gonna have a time, ain' we?" She nuzzled her head against him and hummed softly.

Their little newborn let out a gurgled snort while sleeping, almost like she was agreeing with them.

Kisuke gazed fondly at the little one in his arms, then at Ayame leaning against him, then cast a sidelong glance at Tessai looking on. “That we will, I suspect,” he agreed. “That we will.”

#tw: pregnancy #tw: Labor and delivery #tw: birth scene #tw: childbirth #tw: medical #tw: birth #tw: long post #Please let me know if I missed a TW tag!!!#V: You fall - you rise ; You fall - you rise ; A million tries ; Up from hell to paradise! | Ayame Hirako (Bleach)#V: You've got to promise not to stop when I say when || Ayame & Kisuke (Bleach)#V: I have a little frog ; His name is Tiny Tim ; I put him in the bathtub ; To see if he could swim; Kiku Kohara #uraharashouten #hirak0s #Die Geschichte bisher

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choices-binglebonkus · 2 years ago

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I will never understand how TRR MC giving birth didn’t traumatize the hell out of her or give her any kind of health complications

-she was injured and FORCED into labor in the middle of a ball surrounded by important nobility and other guests

-during a palace lockdown with a known killer on the loose somewhere

-without an epidural or anesthesia of ANY kind

-and was in labor for HOURS on end with all of this in mind

Like girl are you okay??? How are you not traumatized as fuck? I would’ve died right there on the ballroom floor

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playingpreggobby · 10 months ago

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youtube

This is an amazing triplet birth vlog, all natural loved every bit of it 😍😍

Credits to owner!

#birth kink #tw: birth #birth vid #birth rp #playingpreggobby #Youtube

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ofmermaidstories · 2 years ago

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You don’t know where your son came from.

Ostensibly, he’s the best of you and Deku both—his big eyes are all Izuku’s, his grin (sharp and fleeting) is all yours. But your little boy burns with so much life, you don’t know where he gets it from, what fiery star he’s mined it from. Before he was born, before he even existed, a psychic had told you three things about him: that he had been here before, that he would be a leader, and that he would be your husband’s biggest heartache.

(“I don’t have a husband,” you’d told her, stoutly. You were twenty three and chronically single, at that stage; you never liked the people around you enough to let them close enough to change your mind.

She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t look up from the playing cards she was now flipping over, like she was reading the future in the red hearts, the black spades.

“Don’t sweat the details,” she’d said, unbothered, like she hadn’t just told you your future child and husband were hurtling towards some great pain you couldn’t save them from. “He’s on his way now. He needs you just as much as you need him, I think. And the boy. Eventually.”

“You just said they’re gonna hate each other,” you pointed out, annoyed, and the woman sighs. She hadn’t been your idea of a psychic at all—with her neatly kept, shining hair and the designer polo shirt she was wearing. The tennis-white shoes, the singular golden bangle.

“I said he’d be your husband’s biggest heartache,” she reminds you. “That could mean anything. Use your imagination. You’re going to need it, with the life you have in front of you.”

You hadn’t been very impressed, with that—the feeling mutual, apparently, since she ended the session shortly after. And though you laughed about it with your friends later on, you thought of it again when you met Deku—Izuku. Izuku, and the way he had taken your hand, promising you he was there, that you were safe—that you were safe with him.)

You almost didn’t have him—you almost didn’t want him, want children. What would you do with one? Dedicate the rest of your life to it? How could you ensure it’d be safe? You couldn’t—no one could, not even your superhero husband. Your superhero husband who had been the epicentre of the war that tore Japan apart, when you were both teens. Who had lost mentors and classmates alike to it. Who knew the cost of what he was asking of you.

(Izuku brings it up long before you’re engaged, in the dark when you’re flush against him, his salty skin.

“Have you ever—have you ever thought of—”

You frown against where you’d been pressing lazy, afterglow kisses to his collarbone, pulling away to continue frowning into the night, as he trailed gentle fingers down your spine.

“No.” You say. And then after a moment, when that doesn’t stop his tenderness, his careful touching, you admit, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

The what do you want goes unsaid, but Izuku answers it anyway.

“I like kids,” he whispers like it’s a secret, like he doesn’t keep every card and drawing that comes his way, like he isn’t the biggest sucker walking the planet. “And I… I trust the world enough to have them.”

Your skin prickles. He’s been here before, the psychic had said. He’ll know what he’s doing. He’s going to lead people. And—

Her mouth had pinched, spidery hands stilling on the cards—clubs, spades, hearts—in front of her.

And what? You had asked.

And he’s going to be your husband’s biggest heartache.)

In the end, it’s Izuku’s understanding that convinces you to give him the baby you were promised, so many years ago.

“I want to be with you,” he’d said, his fingers twining in yours, tight. “It doesn’t matter what we do, or don’t do. It’s you I’m choosing.”

You knew how much he wanted kids. It was in the way his face would light up, when presented with the newborn of one of the Agency girls. His gentle hands, helping a child down from the ruins of a smouldering building. The way he believed in them being the future.

“I choose you, too.” You tell him in return, confident. “And—and… whatever—whoever—we bring into this world.”

(His brow had knitted, not understanding—leaving you standing there with your hands in his, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to get it.

When he does, his eyes widen—big and green. And hopeful, his face already tightening with the tears that came to him so easily—when he was happy, when he was angry. Whenever he was overwhelmed. “You want to—”

You lift his hand to your mouth, and kiss his scars. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I want to.”)

Your son’s entrance into this world is one of the worst things you’ve ever gone through—and one of the best.

Your labour lasts 30 hours; you don’t sleep at all during it. The baby comes out blue, too choked during his entrance to understand how important breathing is, his thin, bird-like shoulder almost dislocating, trying to pass through; you, in turn, almost die from the bleeding, caught only by a sharp-eyed doctor who saw the early warning signs, as the green lightning of Izuku’s Quirk crackled along his hands, helpless.

You will never do it again. To free your baby boy the doctors had to cut you, deeply, to your asshole; a episiotomy, widening the passage for him. Afterwards, much afterwards when you’re happy and drowsy and holding your tiny, perfect baby in your arms, the doctor that saved your life will tell you that incontinence was a common side-effort of the incision; that you wouldn’t be able to wear high heels again for a while, without putting tension on your stitches. That even trying to pee would be excruciating.

But it didn’t matter: you had everything in your hands, bundled up. Your angry-faced little son, ugly and alien, his tiny fists balled up against himself.

Izuku couldn’t stop his tears, wiping a trembling hand at his eyes every now and then, his lips against your hair, against the shoreline briny smell of your newborn’s head.

“We’re not doing this again,” he whispered. “I’m—this is enough. You’re enough.”

You rubbed your face against his shoulder, his tremors, and traced a delicate finger along the tiny pout of your son’s mouth.

“We’re enough,” you tell him.

In response, Izuku holds you tighter.

In retrospect, your son’s birth should’ve been the warning sign. He is so foreign. He has so much attitude, so much life. He is fearless and unruffled by his father’s fussing; from the moment he can look around him, alert, he wants to be apart of it all, reaching up to Izuku, reaching up to the friends that come and surround him, like immortal godparents. He toddles after them—at first in fat, clumsy infant steps, then more sure-footed, quick, picking up the frightening speed children came with. It makes Izuku worry, you know, especially in the early days, when the baby would throw angry screaming fits that dissolved into heartbreaking sobs, just because Izuku wouldn’t—couldn’t—take him to work with him.

“I think he’s going to be a Pro,” you tell your husband, playful. You’re teasing him—before your son was born, it was all Izuku wanted, a child that he could be there for, someone who he could fight together with. But now all your little boy had to do was drop to the floor too fast, bonk his head on the table leg at the wrong angle and Izuku would be there, brow furrowed, so worried that he couldn’t protect him from every hurt, no matter how big or how small. “He’s going to be just like his father, dashing off to save the world every day.”

“I don’t—” Izuku stops himself, almost guiltily, your baby boy sagging in his arms, asleep. “I just want him to be happy, to be safe.” Izuku whispered.

You smile, because you’ve heard this a thousand times before; your heart breaking every time. Izuku kept photos of everyone he lost—a small shrine of them, faces you never knew in person. Some older. Some far too young, too golden, too alive.

He’s going to be your husband’s biggest heartache.

“I know,” you say, soft. “I know you do.”

Izuku’s hand was big enough to span your baby’s head completely; cradling him, fingers soft in his downy curls. Protective. This was the only time your son would tolerate this touch, this hovering, and some part of you—the part that thinks of your psychic’s words—thinks the timer you two have with him is set much shorter than either of you realise.

Your answer to that is to simply not think about it.

It’s easy enough not to; taking care of a child and working at the same time wipes you out, gives you little time to work yourself up into the same morbid moods Izuku could frenzy himself into. You’re too concerned with making sure your stupid son doesn’t break his neck, stops tracking mud throughout the house, releases the cohort of tiny frogs he’s keeping under his bed, in one of his father’s shoeboxes. At three he’s already a menace, a whole other human of his own and you are reminded, daily, of what it means to give birth to someone—to bring another human being, whole and complete, into this world.

“Play Agencies with me!” you hear him shout from the backyard, one day. He’d turned four in the spring; it was now a lazy, balmy summer, and he was spending the golden days as wild as the beetles and bugs that flitted along the treeline.

You stick your head out the sliding door, frowning. “Talk nicer to your uncle Kiri, brat!” You call out.

In answer you hear Kirishima’s laughter; your son probably scowling, fearlessly, at your reprimand.

“Play Agencies PLEASE!” you hear him shout, even louder—for your benefit, obviously. Kiri must agree, however, and you can hear your boy marching around the yard, bellowing out, “Number! One! Heroes! Let’s roll out! Round and round and round we go!”

In comparison, it’s silent in the kitchen, and you sigh as Izuku steps back in from where he’d been watching them, on the patio.

“I’m sure I wasn’t that bad at his age,” you say, a joke—but you stop when you see your husband’s face, too soft. His eyes, too big—too shiny.

“You alright?” You ask, wondering if it had been a rougher week at work than you realised.

But Izuku shakes his head, shoulders jerking as your son’s song—his chant—continues on, from outside.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “He reminds me of… he… it’s nothing.”

You take his hand in yours, and too easily he pulls you to him. Your husband’s biggest heartache, the psychic had said. She did say you would need an imagination, with this life.

“I’m just—I’m just happy,” Izuku whispers, smiling through his tears.

It’s golden and bright and the cicadas are shrilling outside, the chorus underneath your child’s song, still being belted out, Kirishima catching on enough to join in. It’s a beautiful day—soon the others would arrive for lunch, the motley crew of heroes that had followed each other through school and warzones and the years, the sorrows that came with them, and the joys.

You breathe in the scent of Izuku’s shirt, his skin underneath it. “It’s okay,” you tell him, quietly. A secret between the two of you, in the small section of sunlight in your kitchen. “He’ll be here for a long while yet,” you promise him. This time is silent—but with the way your husband’s arms tighten around you, you think he heard it anyway.

#prompts and drabbles and other things #trigger warning for BABIES 👶🏼 !!!!#andy don’t look #NOT andy friendly #andy go away #actual trigger warning for birth tho bc god speed #tw: birth #everything i’ve ever learnt about giving birth to another human being has been against my will so now i am imparting that to u guys ur welc #there’s no point to this i just wanted to drabble okay goodbye im done

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