#were you dropped on your head as an infant and was it more than once

[somecunttookmyurl]

me: hey, when im logged in the prices on this hotel are 18% higher than when im logged out. i have a video of it. whats up with that booking.com: sorry we need you to call us for security reasons me: there are no security concerns there's no personal data because there is no booking. why is your site showing different prices when logged out. gonna need you to acknowledge and answer that one in writing, not over the phone. booking.com: can you send screenshots of the different prices me: well here is the VIDEO of the process i said i had, yeah. where you can see the price, see me log out, and then see the price magically drop by 18% booking.com: okay what's the confirmation number and pin code of your booking so we can further assist me: ...................................................there is no booking.

[pathologicalreid]

separation anxiety | S.R.

spencer's first case back from paternity leave involves children, so a concerned party reaches out to you for help

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, vaguely described breastfeeding, word count: 1.28k a/n: this is technically the reid family from cryptic, but you don't have to read cryptic in order to understand this fic.

Your book rested in your lap as you pinched the thin paper of the novel between your index finger and your thumb. You had one foot on the ground, and the other was on the bottom of your daughter’s stroller, effectively rocking the stroller in two-four time so the infant would stay asleep.

Just because the A-Team wasn’t around didn’t mean there weren’t people working in the BAU. A crying baby would certainly disrupt the workflow in the bullpen – even if the baby belonged to a member of the BAU. Although, you had already fed her – mostly covered – at Spencer’s desk, so maybe you were past the point of no return.

You and baby Nellie had just been staring at each other at home – she was doing tummy time – when your phone went off. A mysterious text from Derek Morgan had popped up on your phone screen.

Derek Morgan: Got a sec?

It wasn’t that you and Derek never texted, it’s just that it was usually under the realm of “on my way” messages and, more recently, baby pictures, but you usually communicated indirectly using a massive group chat that was created by none other than Penelope Garcia.

So, when you answered and he asked if you’d be able to meet the team when they arrived at Quantico, you hesitantly said yes. He explained more once they were on the jet, the case that they had been on involved young children, and there was a little girl that had struck a particular chord with your boyfriend – who was on his first case back from paternity leave.

Eleanor was three months old, and you weren’t sure who’d have a harder time being away from one another – her or Spencer. You hadn’t considered how Spencer would feel when confronted with a case involving children now that he was a father. Quite frankly, you had hoped that he would’ve had more time before he needed to face a situation like that.

You waited, still using your foot to rock Nell’s stroller as the cover diffused the fluorescent light, you could hear her moving now, likely having woken up from her nap, but if she wasn’t crying, you saw no reason to stop her from playing with the colorful toys that dangled above her.

Sighing, you peered up from your book to see the elevator opening on the sixth floor, revealing the team behind the steel doors. Morgan clocked you first, winking as he passed through the glass doors to the bullpen.

Spencer hadn’t noticed the two of you yet, so you slowly opened the cover of the stroller and picked your daughter up, holding her gently to your chest. The infant fussed a bit while she was being moved, effectively gaining the attention of her father, whose face lit up at the sight of his family waiting for him at his desk.

Pushing past the rest of the team, who had also noticed the small being in the room by this point, Spencer approached his desk, haphazardly dropping his bag on the metal surface before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Before even bothering to separate your lips, he was taking the baby from your arms.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling away from you slowly as he secured the baby in his arms, bending his neck to place his lips on the crown of Nell’s head, “I missed you, angel girl.” His voice was gentle as you looked on fondly, she reached out a small hand and gripped the collar of his shirt. “How are you?” He asked, turning his attention back onto you.

You smiled at the two of them, using a cloth to wipe the drool from her chin before Spencer took it from you, deftly draping it over his shoulder in case he needed it shortly. “Good,” you answered, “tired,” you added.

Across the bullpen, Emily waved at Eleanor, grinning broadly as she walked over to her desk with JJ. To her enjoyment, the baby responded by letting out a coo and smiling before turning her attention to her dad, nuzzling her face in his chest, “Did I miss anything?”

Raising your eyebrows, you shrugged, leaning back and sitting on Spencer’s desk, “She pushed herself up on her arms yesterday.” It wasn’t a massive milestone – you were still grateful that Spencer had been present for her first real smile.

“Oh, yeah?” He responded, proudly looking down at his daughter, who had moved on from nuzzling and was now trying to see just how much of her hand she could fit in her mouth. “Did you know that babies usually go through a sleep regression right before they learn a new skill?” He asked, directing the question at Nell, “That must be why your mama looks so tired.”

You waved him off, crossing your arms in front of your stomach, “She’s lucky she’s so cute.”

The familiar click-clack of heels notified you that Penelope Garcia had made it to the party, likely signaled by another member of the team, “The cutest little girl in the world!”

Even though every member of the team had held your daughter at one point or another, you weren’t entirely comfortable with her being handed off like a hot potato. This, combined with Spencer’s aversion to germs, led to an unspoken rule: wait until one of her parents offered to let you hold her.

“Did you want to take her for a bit?” You offered, looking over at Spencer as you did. He needed time with her, it wasn’t your intention to deprive him of that, but you needed to check in with him without the distraction of the baby. Handing her off, you spoke up, “Watch your earrings,” you tapped on your earlobe, “She will grab them.”

As Garcia held the baby, she made her way around the bullpen, allowing Eleanor to make grabby hands at everyone and everything.

Keeping an arm around his waist, you looked up at your boyfriend, “Are you alright?” You asked, keeping your voice low as there was no sense in airing your concerns to the now bustling office.

Spencer’s smile faltered ever so slightly, “They were just kids. There have been kids before, but now…”

“Now you’re a dad,” you finished for him. “It’s not just something that you could see happening to someone else; it’s something you could see happening to yourself.” Pinching his side slightly, you smirked at him knowingly, “You know, your levels of empathy and sensitivity increase when you become a parent. Your brain adjusts to make yourself a better parent.”

Rolling his eyes slightly, Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “You know, I vaguely remember telling you something very similar last week when you were crying at an ASPCA commercial.”

You reached up to ruffle his hair, “Nice try at sarcasm, babe, but you and I both know you never vaguely remember anything.”

“How did you know to come here? That I’d need to see her?” Spencer asked, watching as Penelope continued to parade around the BAU, now taking her up the stairs and through the roundtable room. “Was it a mother’s intuition?” He suggested, taking up a lighter tone.

Turning around, your eyes followed Garcia as she walked with Eleanor, “I was contacted by a concerned party.”

Spencer followed your gaze, “I’ll thank Garcia when she gives our baby back.”

You hummed, “Actually, it was Derek, he-“ Your voice cut off abruptly, “Oh, Penny, I told you she’d grab them!” You called from Spencer’s desk, but Garcia was already on her way to return Eleanor, holding one hand to her ear as she handed the baby back to Spencer.

[pholla-jm]

Heir (2)

IMAGINE: HEIR~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. f!reader. true form sukuna. not proof read

If you haven't read the first part, here it is: Heir. ***************

As months went by, your stomach got bigger and rounder. Your back was certainly hurting, feet aching, and a constant need to go pee. 

You almost hated every second of it. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you were bringing life into the world, you would’ve hated every second of it. 

Someone that was almost more excited than you was your lover, Sukuna. He was dead set on the baby being a boy. He was so excited to raise a boy to create a future heir. 

He even already picked out a name for him. Akumu, not a common name but it was one that Sukuna liked and it was set. 

However, you had a feeling that you were having a daughter. But, Sukuna was not hearing any of that. But just in case, you picked out a name just in case it was a girl. You wanted to have a similar vibe that Sukuna wanted so you chose Yumekui. 

You were very close to your due date and you were extremely nervous. You felt like you weren’t ready. You felt the nursery wasn’t ready or that things weren’t baby proofed enough. 

That’s why you paced around the castle, trying to get things ready. You didn’t care that your feet ached and your back was crying for help. All you cared about was making sure that everything was ready and perfect for the baby.

You know who did care? Sukuna. He didn’t like how you are constantly on your feet, pacing around and just being worried in general. 

“Woman.” Sukuna calls out once he finds you wandering the halls. You turn to him, already knowing you’re about to get scolded. “You should be resting.” You pout a little, “but do you see that over there?” You say while pointing to an area where a sharp corner was protruding. 

Sukuna follows your finger, “yeah. What about it?” “What if the baby hurts themselves from that?” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “you’re being paranoid. Our son will be strong. A corner is not going to harm him.” 

There’s that word again. Son. You often thought about what his reaction would be if it was a daughter instead. Would he be mad? Would he kick the both of you out? Would he kill the child? All these negative thoughts clouded your mind daily. 

That’s why when the time came, you really didn’t want Sukuna in the room- just the midwives. However, Sukuna wanted to be in the room with you and no one was really going to defy his orders. 

Sukuna was being super supportive though during the whole process. He held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you wanted, even though it felt like a little pinch to him. He also kept a clean towel to wipe the sweat off of you. Even the sly cursing didn’t affect him. 

The process felt like hours and you were sure you looked like a hot mess. Sukuna didn’t care though. In his eyes you were still the most beautiful woman. 

You could feel the baby coming through and it was only confirmed by the midwife when she said the head was crowning and you only needed to do a couple more pushes. 

You were happy to hear that as you started to feel more tired and weak with every second that passed by. 

Finally, you heard the sound of an infant crying. Relief washed through your body. Until you heard the words you didn’t want to hear.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl.” 

You felt Sukana’s grip on your hand loosen until he completely lets go of your hand.

You could feel your heart drop and your skin paled. You wanted to grab the baby before Sukuna did. But you were too weak to sit up correctly. 

“W-wait..” Your voice only came out as a whisper as your back hit the bed. “I want..” You couldn’t speak anymore as your head lolled to the side. You could feel a midwife trending to your side. 

The last thing you saw was the midwife holding the child and Sukuna walking up to the child. You could see the subtle frown on his face as he looked down at the small baby. After that, your vision went black as you went into a peaceful slumber. 

*************

Everything felt sore. Extremely sore. It took you a minute to come to your senses. But when you remember your situation, you sit up. Hoping to find your daughter safe and sound. 

However, what you saw was the last thing you expected.

Your daughter was swaddled, in the crib sound asleep. 

What shocked you even more was Sukuna. The man who said who wanted a son, stood at the crib admiring his child. 

His large body was bent over so his arms were crossed and leaning against the edge. His head was tilted to the side and resting on his arms. You would have never guessed you would see a sight like this. He looked almost… soft. All though, you would never say that to him. 

Sukuna heard the rustling of the sheets causing him to sit up a little. 

“I’m glad you’re awake.” He says and you nod your head. 

“Are you mad?” You softly ask him. “Why would I be mad?” “You know… for having a daughter. Not a son, like you wanted.” 

Sukuna laughs, but not too loudly to wake the baby. 

Sure, he was a bit upset when he heard that it was a girl. But as soon as her eyes opened, the same red color as his, he swore he could feel his heart stop. The cries were weak and pathetic in his opinion. However, when the midwife handed her over to him, her cries stopped. The baby looked up at him with wonder and she showed him a gummy smile. 

Sukuna would never tell you that as soon as her cries stopped he started to love the child. 

“No. She’s so small. I decided that having a daughter isn’t too bad.” You chuckle at his answer and peer over the crib, getting a good look at your daughter. 

Even though she was a few hours old, you could tell that she was Sukuna’s daughter. You could only imagine what she would look like when she gets older.

“She looks just like you.” You mutter, a little upset that you carried her for so long and she came out looking like her father. 

“Of course she does. My genetics are strong.” “Hmm, we’ll see with the next baby.” 

Sukuna grins at your words, “the next baby? Already planning for another?” “Wait, wait,” you giggle while holding your hand up, “I don’t mean that just yet. I still have to heal.”  Sukuna hums, silently agreeing. “Next time, it’ll be a boy. I’ll make sure of it.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @lotuskassagi

[marvelstan0905]

Helloooo can you please write one where Ken is just stressed his practices and barely has time with reader and their baby girl so reader surprises him by taking their bby to watch hin practice and the entire time their baby is just giggling and cheering him on?

"Sunshine in the dark"

Husband!Kenji Sato X Wife!Reader [Oneshot]

TW : petnames/fluff/mentions of overwhelm, sadness and guilt/Emi mention/Kenji's mom mention/not proofread yet/mixed POV

Note : Here you go! Hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the love and support!❤️

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

Swing. Strike. Swing. Strike again. At this point Kenji had been out more times than he could count. His head was everywhere and he felt like he was pulled in numerous directions. The guilt and overwhelming feelings that drowned him where far too immense for Kenji. He couldn't even think of a time when he spent a full day, a whole 24 hours with his wife and beautiful baby girl, d/n. Kenji's little princess was so small, just months old and his mind was eating him for not being there for every single moment of her growth. That was only the cherry on the cake. His mother was still not found. All this Ultraman stuff was dragging him further down. Kaiju alerts left and right. Even if Emi was in a far better place and with her birth mom, Kenji couldn't help but worry from time. That was his baby as well. Then his passion, a reason for a smile on his face was going downhill as well. Baseball, God. Kenji felt like he was sleeping on the field. He was losing plays left and right. He couldn't get much sleep because of his own worrying and the Kaiju alerts which were increasing day by day. Along with that, he was doing his best to be a good husband and father. Trying to change and feed the baby at night, help his wife so she can rest as well but it felt like he was more of a problem than solution to his family.

"Goddammit! You're Ken Sato! The Ken Sato! Hit the ball! Hit the ball!" Kenji roared in frustration as he slammed the bat into the ground before picking it up. As the simulation of an old ball park surrounded Kenji, another ball was picthed and he missed once again. In complete frustration he slammed his knee into the bat. Instantly regretting it, he groaned from the pain and grumbled. "Of course. You're being so stupid, Kenji"

"Go Kenji!"

"You can do it, sweetheart! Just breathe!"

"Dada!"

Kenji immediately whipped his heads towards the stands to his beautiful wife, his daughter and his mother. All three of his favorite girls. Even if one was a simulation. It made Kenji's heart skip a beat and flutter in happiness. His baby daughter, sat on his wife's lap clapping and giggling. The infant finding joy in just seeing her father. Those little joys even made Kenji's frustration dissipate. Even for a moment. With a grin, you leaned to kiss your daughter's head.

"C'mon, princess. Say 'Go daddy'" I gently coaxed my daughter whiles she cooed and babbled. D/n just clapped and giggled calling out for her father with endless joy. Kenji's eyes brimmed with tears. This small moment, this joy meant the world to him. It was just what he needed. His sunshine in the dark.

Even so the simulation of his mother sitting right next his daughter and wife was all he needed. With a quick wipe to his cheeks, Kenji readied himself.

Batter up. Ichi. Ni. San. Ball!

With all his might, Kenji swung and finally hit the ball. The ball disappeared into the landscape of the simulation as Kenji dropped the bat and felt so refreshed. This small win. This trivial achievement. It was..everything to Kenji. At this very moment, he just needed this.

"YAY! GO KENJI!" I cheered for my husband. The simulation of his mother followed in suite urging him to run. Kenji went towards the stands and picked up his daughter. With a spin around, he peppered her face in kisses before running three bases with her safely tucked in his arms. At the very last stretch, just three quarters in from the third to home base, Kenji put his tiny princess down and held her hands tight. "That's it! You're almost there!"

"Come on, little one. You can make the home run for daddy!" Kenji encouraged his daughter who giggled. D/n held onto her daddy's index fingers and with his support she waddled towards home base. With some falls and babbles on frustration, she finally got there. Kenji couldn't help but think of Emi when his baby daughter finally made the home run.

"Home run! Let's go D/n!" I shouted from the stands. My daughter giggled and smiled brightly not even knowing what she was being praised for. Blissfully unaware of the impact her bright smile had on Kenji. "Well done, baby! You did Kenji!"

"There's my girl! Well done, princess" Kenji praised his tiny girl and picked her up holding her tight and kissing her tiny face. D/n clung to her father and nestled into his affection.

"Thank you." Kenji murmured as his cheek pressed against hus daughter's soft hair. Thank you to his wife, his daughter and..of course his mother. He really needed this.

[gothghostiie]

more babysitter!reader x price because yea. sort of part 2 to this, but can be read on its own

cw: age gap (20s/40s), Virgin!reader, handjob (reader giving), price is drunk, gn!reader

babysitter!reader being asked to babysit by price on halloween, telling them its okay if they cant because they have plans for halloween, plans to go out and party. but you tell him its okay, you don't have plans. his heart clenches because a young thing like you should be out partying, enjoying your life, not babysitting. but instead you're there now, and he's getting ready to go out instead. not wearing a proper costume, just a black button up with the top buttons open, some black jeans, little red devil horns and eyeliner that he bought on a whim and that he poked his eye with more than once. he gets down the stairs to see you coo at his infant, who's laughing and kicking it's feet, especially upon seeing their dada with the little plastic horns. price chuckles and picks them up, cradling the chubby baby in his burly, hairy arms, tickling the little thighs and making it giggle. both of you smile fondly, almost as if it's your baby; and for a moment you wish it was when he winks at you.

you take the little one back, sitting it on your hip as price grabs his keys, walking him to the door. he turns back and leans down, putting a hand on your arm while kissing the baby's head. "now be good.. both of ya." he jokes, making your cheeks warm while you chuckle. he tells you one last time to make yourself at home, to call him if you need something and to not break any doors this time. your cheeks burn as you nod with an awkward chuckle, he grins and gets into a car thats apparently waiting for him, waving at both of you as they drive off. now you're sat there, playing with the baby until it's bed time, the little one is just delighted to have you around, even when you put it down in it's crib and turn on the little music box. now you're there, sat on the couch and flipping through TV channels to see if something good is on, loads of horror movies and the like. you know it's yhe watered down version, considering the time it's running, but you decide to settle for one of them. you're on your phone meanwhile, checking on the baby every now and then, watching movie after movie until you hear the familiar jingle of keys in the door. you sit up and glance around the corner where price stumbles into the room seconds later, his steps heavy and his appearance a bit messy. he blinks at the TV, then at you, his lips turning up into a grin. "there you are.." he coos, stumbling towards the couch and slumping down on it with a deep grown, his hand landing in your lap with how close he dropped down. you can smell the booze and sweat on him immediately, mixed with his perfume and his natural musky scent, it almost makes you wanna lean in and nuzzle him.

he takes a momemt before looking over at you with a satisfied grin forming on his lips, his calloused hand coming down on top of your head to pat you as if you were a dog. "you're such a gorgeous little bird, aren't you?" he hums lowly, almost making you gasp. your eyes widen a bit as your cheeks start burning, he just chuckles quietly, eyeing you over. hes had his eye on you the last time already, the image of you looking up at him with teary eyes burned into his mind, doing things it shouldn't be doing. he leans in a little closer, his breathing heavy while his hand cradles the back of your head. "you've been good like I told you, yea?" he teases quietly, your cheeks somehow get even hotter as you nod. "have ya now?' he chuckles, giving your cheek a firm pat as he leans his head back with a chuckle. the little plastic horns are loosely in his locks, the eyeliner is smudged and you're pretty sure that more buttons on his shirt are open, his strong, hairy chest peeking out between the fabric. the only thing that stops you from staring is his small groan as he stretches again, face scrunching up. you ask him if hes alright, he chuckles softly. "just my old bones aching, love." he murmurs, then suddenly eyes you over. "say.. y'don't happen to wanna help an old man relax a bit, do ya?" he says quietly, his tone suddenly feeling much more intimate.

"i- I'm sorry..?" is all you can muster, your thighs subconsciously squeezing together as your head runs wild. surely you misunderstood him you think, there's no way he wants what you hope think he wants.

"y'know what I mean love.. lend me a hand or something more." he hums, eyeing your form next to him, his pants already getting tighter at the mere sight of you. "I ain't gonna make you and I ain't gonna be mad if you don't want to, bird." he reassures you gently, he truly means it. you hesitate, your breath getting stuck in your throat along with all the words you want to say to him, all you can do is nod after a few seconds of silence. a smile crosses his face, a big hand goes to cup your cheek. "that's a good doll.. c'mere." he pats the side of his thigh, you scoot closer until you can't. he gazes at you through lidded eyes, it's scary how he can see your nervousness even when he's like this. " 's alright love. nothing' to be nervous about." he says gently, his hand patting your head.

"you ever done this?" he asks, seeing right through you. fuck. you shake your head softly, he raises his eyebrows in surprise before smiling. "that's alright. I'll help ya." a bit clumsily he opens his belt and his pants, bulge pressing against the fabric of the boxers he's wearing. "gimme your hand.." he orders gently and you do, letting him put it on the taut fabric. "there. get a feel for it, pet." he murmurs, having to hold back from cummin on the spot as you carefully let your fingertips explore. he can sense your intrigue along with the insecurity and it almost breaks his heart. he slowly pulls down the band of his underwear, giving you time to intervene if you wanted, before his cock springs free. its a bit above average and fat, a few veins running from the base to the weeping tip. your eyes widen and he chuckles, taking your trembling hand and wrapping it around his hard cock. "there y'go.. now just move up and down, yea?" he explains, you almost wanna huff that you know what you have to do - but that's forgotten as the first deep groan rumbles in his chest as your fingers graze his tip. the sound is addictive, you have to restrain yourself from making a mess in your own underwear as you keep moving your hand. his moans make you secure, giving you the feeling you're not doing it entirely wrong, his body twitching under your touch. breathy moans fall from his chapped lips, head is lolled back against the couch while his hands desperate try not to grab you; and it gets harder the closer he gets.

it doesn't take long before he gets close, whether its the alcohol or that he'd been build up for a good while now, his hips stuttering slightly. his eyes are shut tightly when he suddenly grabs your arm, holding you tight while trying to keep breathing without pathetic noises spilling from his mouth. "so good, bird.. don't stop.. 'm almost there.." he mutters mere seconds before pretty much exploding, his tight balls aching in relief as his cum stains your hand and his shirt. you gasp in shock, your movements stuttering and it makes him smile, he chuckles at how adorable you look when as you give him a shocked look. "good job love, y'did well." he hums, his grip loosening and instead going to rub your back.

"you're gonna sleep here tonight, alright bird?"

[babygirl-riley]

Hiiiiii sorry to bother- but i'm OBESSED with dad!Simon. have you seen those tiktoks of dad's crying while their baby girls get ear piercings? They look more in pain than the kid themselves?? I'd like to ask for a short drabble please!! ❤️❤️😩

Silent Treatment

Simon and your baby girl are shunning you after getting her ears pierced

A/N: ANON ANOOOON! Those tik toks make me laugh because it’s like damnnn those dads wanna fight mom soooo bad. 😭 But yes yes I love this idea!

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

You felt bad truly, you stood in the door frame as Simon didn’t look at you. Same with your infant daughter. “Si, we talked about it.”

Simon shook his head. “Doesn’ matter, she was in pain. Almost took the bitch’s head off,” Your daughter clanged to her father as she sighed into his shoulder. “We are not happy about it, aren’ we princess.” Simon said whispering to Millie.

You chuckled low before sighing. “Simon she is fine now. She isn’t even crying.”

“Her ears say oth’r wise.” He commented looking at her subsiding red ears.

You smirked as you saw Simon smirk, he was milking it now. You glared at him still smirking as you fold your arms. “You can’t gate-keep her forever you know.”

Simon’s smile grew bigger as he looked at Millie than you. “You try to take her for me and see who’s gate keepin’ who.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling. He was right, she was the one clinging onto him without any hesitation. When you tried to get her out of her car seat she screamed for her daddy. You really pissed her off, you knew she was daddy’s girl but never has she refused you getting her out.

Millie looked over her shoulder and her head was still laying on his shoulder. Her brown eyes looking right through your soul. You could feel the anger on the toddler. God how much both Millie and Simon were alike, even in her toddler years. That look that she was baring into your soul was the same look that her father gave the lady that pierced her ears.

“Okay dad you can go on the other side so I can just snap one on,” The lady said pulling out the piecing gun. Your mom did it to you when you were younger, easier to do it when they won’t remember it. Raise your daughter to have a routine of having earrings. Millie looked up at you as you sat her on your lap. She was confused, first having a stranger holding her ear and mom letting the stranger holding her ear. The lady smiled up at you. “You ready?”

Simon looked over at her. “It won’t hurt her too bad yeah?” You swore he was more nervous than how Millie looking on your lap.

You smiled holding her closer. “She will cry Simon but it shouldn’t hurt too much. It will feel like a pinch.”

Oh how wrong you were, once the piercing went in she screamed. Simon snapped his head up to the lady before giving her a death stare, as he moved over to the side to see her ear red. Millie kicked and tried to pull you off of her. You watched as Simon’s hands clenched into fists. “One more! I know baby.” The lady said walking over to the other side cautiously.

You saw Simon watch carefully as the lady lined up the piercing. You swore you saw fire in his eyes but also pain. You haven’t seen Simon express that emotion in years, it made your heart hurt to see him in pain as well. Millie started to lift herself as she reached for Simon. Simon tapped his foot waiting for the session to just end.

You tried to grab her hand to soothe her but instead she batted away. She tried to reach for Simon once again as you held her still. You looked over to see tears in his eyes, which made your heart drop. “Simon,” You soothed. “She is okay.”

Simon snapped his head to you. “She doesn’ look okay to me.” You frowned as he looked back to Millie as you petting her head until the lady got her gun in place of her earlobe.

After the last snap, Millie screamed again, having her arms raised to Simon. It was like flash of lightning when Simon was right in front of you. Simon grabbed her immediately, bounced her up and down. Shushing her, soothing her, rubbing her back.

Simon left the store immediately, leaving you in the dust. You sighed as you handed the money to the lady. “Don’t worry all husbands do that with their babies. The good ones at that.” The lady whispered to you. “Some of them actually shed tears.”

You smiled and thanked her, however she was wrong about him not shedding a tear. You knew why he stormed out with her, you saw the single tear leaving his eye when he snatched her.

You paid the lady and thanked her as you watched Simon hold Millie closer. Both of them gave you the silent treatment, like you did the piercing. You rolled your eyes as you tried to hold Millie but she refused you as she clanged onto Simon all the way to the car.

After getting out of the car he went straight to her room as he rocked her. Holding her. Soothing her. You followed him into the doorway, as you listened to him mumble sweet things to her. It wasn’t until then he started to speak to you.

“I’m not mad at ya,” He said sighing. “Didn’ like my babygirl cryin’ like that.” His voice lowered even more as he rubbed her back on soothing motions. Holding her even closer than he already had her before.

You nodded. “I know you don’t. I am sorry you felt that way. My heart hurt too, I didn’t expect her to scream cry,” You fell silent as you watched Millie turn to cuddle more close to his neck. Gripping his shirt. You chuckled having Simon start to smile looking at you. “I think you scared the lady as well.”

Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Good she hurt Mills, should have just stared at her the whole time to have her stop.”

You chuckled coming in more, Millie watched as you walked up to her and Simon. “Then she would only have one earring.”

Simon followed with his eyes as you stood in front of him. His eyes softening as he chuckled. “That’s the new thing isn’t it?”

Now it was your time to roll your eyes as you giggled. “I’m sorry baby,” You whispered kneeling down, rubbing the top of her ear. “Think you will be the only one to have pierced ears if we get you a sibling.”

She cooed as you leaned up to kiss her forehead. She laid back into his chest. It was quiet for a moment before you stood up. “Damn right.” Simon mumbled, smirking down at you.

[rinrinx2]

Could you do something where reader takes renzo shopping with her and she's at sephora for the last place and she takes him in the Nars section and she tries to cover his eyes so he doesn't see the makeup names and when they get home he blurts a name out from bars dyk what I mean ?

Your wish is my command 🫶

.

Reading is fundamental

Rindou x reader

Warnings: innapropriate language, none really

Going shopping with Renzo wasn't an uncommon thing to do. You and Rindou brought him almost everywhere that allowed children. So, when Rindou had told you that he had business to attend to with Ran and that you would need to take him with you to the mall you had no complaints. It would just be a mall outing for the two of you.

You and Renzo had started off strong at the mall, going from store to store with little fuss. Renzo wasn't really a nagging child and you where forever grateful for that, making your shopping experience a lot easier than most moms with kids.

You and Renzo were continue your shopping journey, as the two of you walked passed Sephora. Stopping in your tracks you decided to go inside, but before you entered you had spoken to the little boy who held your hand with his own smaller one.

"Ren honey, don't touch the things in store" you said in a tender voice warning the young boy to be wary of the items. You knew Renzo was at that curious age were anything shiny he needed to touch, and the last thing you needed was him breaking a foundation bottle and you have to pay for it.

The small boy nodded in understanding, as the two of you entered. you walked passed the various sections in the store, looking at the different lipsticks, eyeshadows, facial lotions and concealers, with Renzo following you. The little boy eyeing all the colourful items but not daring to touch them as to test your warning.

"You think this colour looks pretty on mommy?" You asked the little boy as you puckered your lips at him, watching as he giggled.

"Maybe no" He answered honestly.

"Ouch, didn't realise you were as truthful as you uncle Ran" You replied back putting the lipstick back on its place.

You and Renzo continued walking, deciding to go to the Nars section hoping to find a lipstick or blush, as you were quite fond of their products.

You had arrived in the Nars section, finding where the lipsticks were. You let go of Renzo's hand reminding him of your warning.

"Remember no touching" you reminded him as you went to try on the lipstick in your hand infant of the small vanity mirror.

While you were preoccupied Renzo had taken a few steps away from you, not to far for concern but still a good distance.

Your words played over in Renzo's head.

'No touching'

But you never said that he couldn't read the product names, as the shiny packaging had his full attention. You see as much as Renzo was at the age of curiosity he was also at the age were he could read and thanks to you and Rindou putting him into a prestige school his reading skills was remarkable something that you were proud of.

You looked away from the mirror to show Renzo the new lip colour you dawned, but when you turned you realised the young boy was no longer where you left him. Panicking when you walked around the aisle to find your son holding a box as more panic set in as you feared he would drop the item, but before you could even get a word out you heard the little boys voice.

"DEEP THROAT BLUSH!" the little boy loudly read, as nearly every woman in the store turned their heads looking at Renzo.

"Renzo" you whispered quietly trying to get the boys attention without gaining anymore.

As you continued to walk over towards him you watched him pick up another makeup product, and you watched as his mouth opened and you felt your legs speed up in pacing. Hand out about to grab him when you heard.

"ORGASM BLUSH"

And once again all eyes were on Renzo and now on you.

"Put it down honey, and lets go" you said urging the boy on to put the blush back as you grabbed his hand and went to the counter to pay for your things so that you could leave with whatever little dignity you had left.

You stood at the counter paying for your items while Renzo looked around the shop. You had just finished swiping your card when you felt a little tug on your jacket, when you heard the question.

"WHAT IS BETTER THAN SEX MAS- KAR- RA?" Renzo asked loud and clear.

You gave the cashier a smile grabbing your bags, seeing the young woman pull her face into a tight smile as blush rose to her cheeks at your sons question.

You grabbed Renzo and made your way out of Sephora, mentally noting that you'd never take Renzo there again.

"So, how was your day champ?" Rindou asked the young boy who messily ate his spaghetti.

"It was fun" The little boy replied not even looking at his father as he pulled a spaghetti high up in the air.

"We had too much fun" you said looking over at your husband with that expression that already told him you were drained from today.

"I think I'm going to take a bath after dinner"

"You deserve one baby" Rindou said with a smile.

Rindou looked over at Renzo seeing that the boy was occupied with his pasta not even noticing the two of you as Rindou whispered over towards you.

"And when I put champ to bed maybe I can join you"

You smiled at Rindou's words, as you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and then

"SEX BOMB" Renzo said loud, Rindou froze internally freaking out wondering how his son heard him whisper that to you.

"A bath bomb you should use that for you bath mommy"

.

.

.

Hope you liked it

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[ashlynlovestlou]

you and ellie find a baby while patrolling

꩜ CW: mention of gore , mention of infertility , father figure! ellie , fem! reader , pet names

꩜ synopsis: you and ellie find a baby while patrolling

sfw!

masterlist

☆—-------------------------------------------------------------—☆

No one knows how it happened. One patrol that was supposed to be normal ended up with you and Ellie finding an infant abandoned.

Ellie heard it first. The sound of clickers lurking in the heavily wooded forest just outside of Jackson. Of course, she never worried about it. Killing Infected was like stepping on bugs to her, but when she saw a group of people being torn up by them, she knew something was off.

You saw it all happen. A man had his entire arm dismembered, his screams piercing to yours and Ellie's eardrums. A woman's face was mutilated, her limp body making you feel sick. The third person of the group ran for a good while, managing to kill one of the clickers with a puny blade that didn't last long.

By the time you and Ellie had shot and killed the clickers, the people were all dead. The two of you were left alone in the forest, the only sound coming from the lacework of leaves above you and the crunching snow under your feet.

"You think they've got any loot on em'?"

You nod your head, already advancing towards them, trudging through the crunchy ice.

You both hear a noise, making you stop in your tracks first, Ellie right after. Your heart hammers in your entire body.

"Ellie, I thought you killed them?" You whisper, your voice caked with urgency.

"I did, babe!" She whisper-shouts, slowly approaching them with her gun drawn.

The noise happens again, this time more clear. It sounds like a cry, but not one that could've came from an adult.

You put your hand on top of Ellie's gun, slowly lowering it once you realize neither of you are in danger.

"Is that...?"

Sure enough, huddled by the cluster of dead infected and people, is an infant, kicking it's legs and squirming to be held. You heart instantly shatters into tiny bits and pieces, and you don't hesitate to scoop it up.

"What if it's infected?" Ellie says, thus receiving a dirty look from you.

"It's a baby."

"Have you seriously never seen the movie Gremlins?" She stifles a laugh, but you're too busy staring at the baby in your arms.

Ellie can see the look on your face. The motherly one that you've always had ever since she met you, even though you both know you can't have kids of your own. Ellie knows how much it broke your heart, knowing you can't have a baby. She always tried to tell you that it was okay and that she was happy just with you, but your heart always yearned for a child.

And now you're holding one.

"Babe..." She says softly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Let's just bring her to Maria."

"Ellie." You quickly say, looking at her with pleading eyes, "We were the last people to see her mother before she died." You motion at the woman with a bullet hole wound in her chest, and the swaddle wrapped around her body.

"What are you-"

"Can we keep her? Please?"

"Whoa, Y/N... this is a huge commitment, we can't just—" She stopped short when she saw the tears in your eyes, the baby leaning on your chest as if she had already warmed up to you. The look of you holding a child made Ellie's heart swell fuller than a river during a flood.

"Ellie. We can't just... leave her with Maria."

"Why not?"

"Because we can't." You say, sniffling and biting your lip, "Please."

She sighs, her shoulders dropping. She hates to tell you no, especially in a situation like this when she knows how upset it's making you, "Fine. Fine, okay, we'll take her home."

Your face lights up as you look at the little human leaning agains you, "Thank you thank you thank you! God, Ellie, I'm going to make this up to you."

Ellie rolls her eyes, a smile on her face as she creeps up behind you and rests her chin on your shoulder. Her hands hold your waist and she peppers gentle kisses on the length of your neck, "I like to see you happy, mama."

☆—-------------------------------------------------------------—☆

[crybaby-magic]

Our Past

sun wukong x daughter reader

based off of the song:The Horse and the Infant

Traveling with Macaque,Mk,and the Monkeys was not doing you any good.You can feel the raging headache waiting to tear your skull apart while yall travel through the semi fixed scroll to find Wukong.From Wukongs memories to the tears that randomly forming throughout the place.You really just want to hurry this up so they can defeat the overgrown lion and you can get your much needed sleep.

Honestly you kinda curse at Mk for finding the damn stick that soon lead to all this but at the same time you know it destiny.At the same time it could be jealousy that he hangs out with your dad more than you and you been with him for centuries.Signing out once more you travel on with white monkeys hanging off of you. “ What's with all the sighing girly”Macaque asked while slowing down to walk beside you.

“Nothing, just the whole situation sucks.And I might be slightly worried about the old man.”You muttered the last part slightly embarrassed.Macaque gruffly laughed at your antics while shaking his head.

You soon felt Mk jump onto your back making you slightly stumble. “Hey don’t worry we'll find him in no time then we can leave then we can beat up Azure lion then we can…umm we can do something i don't know what but we'll find out later.”He said in a reassuring cheeky voice. “A good side is weeee-” grabbing Macaque,you,and the monkeys in a hug “Get to see how Sun Wukong was through his memories”

Macaque shook his head “I really don’t care for relieving some of the memories” while heading ahead of the group.Mk pouted a bit while still hanging off of you before facing you.”What about you,aren’t you a little interested?” he said in a pouting voice.Smirking you nodded your head that got an ecstatic reaction from him.He hopped off of you and headed ahead.With a slight distant look you looked around in Wukongs memories shaking it off you head towards the two that were near a crack that a tiny monkey kept pointing at.

“Hey look, this little guy is pointing us somewhere i think he knows where Sun Wukong is at” Mk said.Nodding your head you wander through the crack hoping not to fall into another memory.

————————————☆————————

That damn monkey is going to get it when you see it.It didn’t lead you to wukong but to a village at night.From observation nobody was out it looked like a ghost town almost.Through another problem was that nobody could figure out where y'all are.Mk surprisingly had no knowledge seeing as he knew everything about his past and Mac really couldn’t tell you anything.

The group was going to leave till you heard noise standing behind some trees yall peek out at the village.Then it happened chaos ensued In the far distance(the front of the village) fire started to arise.Then the scream,clashing of weapons,crying too where the hell were you guys and what the hell did Wukong do in his past.

Still peeking from the tree yall soon saw Wukong in his battle gear covered in blood.His staff dripping though something seems odd looking closer it seem that he was lead by his golden vision.All the while he holding someone's dead body by their head,from the looks of it the guy looked like the villages leader or something of the sort.He dropped the body and walked over him into the house.

You soon tuned everything out and headed to a window ignoring Macaque’s and Mk’s voice.Something felt familiar or strange you couldn’t- didn’t want to find out but…why.Macaque and Mk with some monkeys came to the opened window too.Observing the situation it seemed to be a plan room with a few hand sewn teddy bears on the floor.In the center of the dark room was a bassinet being lit up by the full moon.You felt your heart dropped a babies room.You had the thought of oh great jade empire he wouldn't,couldn’t it's a literal kid.Then again the other thought of yeah he probably would the amount of times he nearly killed you as a kid is embarrassingly high.

“Hey the door opened.”Mk pointed out snapping you out of your thoughts.Wukong entered the room eyes illuminated by the moon his eyes looked so empty that it actually scared you.Wind brushed past you forcing the door opened wider making it slam into the wall startling the baby making it start crying.

His eyes sharpened at the noise coming from the bassinet.He walked very slowly to it before staring down at the baby.He seemed to be having an eternal battle with himself before he lifted his staff in the motion that he was going to hit the baby.Everyone in the group looked disturbed your eyes widened with tears and let out a squeak that Macaque covered when you saw him swinging down.You closed your eyes hard tears falling at this soon to be gruesome scene.You knew he had a fucked up past at times but this honestly scared you.

Suddling you heard his staff falling then the sound of a child giggling.Looking up you saw Wukong’s gripping the edge of the bassinet.Slowly he reached in picking up the baby.The baby was in a long night dress that fell over there feet.The baby had the shortest hair but on the back of its neck you saw a serpent mark.A snake that was in a circle eating it own tail kinda.Subconsciously you rubbed the back of your neck realizing why this seemed so familiar, you’re the baby.

It’s hard to believe when he told you ‘he found you randomly one day and decided to pity your mortal existence’.(that you did hit him across the head for his ignorant tone in the end)You must have mumbled it out loud cause you heard Mk’s dramatic gasp and if Macaque had any reaction it was well hidden behind a scowl.

Observing the scene before you,you saw how he interacted with you, bouncing you and smiling while you giggled and pressed your tiny hands on his nose.Tears must have been falling from your eyes when you felt Macaque mess up your hair as he walked away gruffly saying “ let's go find your idiot dad.” Mk and the tiny monkeys soon followed after him.Turning around to follow them you heard wukong speak up so you turned your head to listen.

“It's hard to believe that something as cute as you could be dangerous in the future,so why don’t you come with me little on.Wanna go see a pretty mountain with pretty flowers.”A trail of giggling babbles followed.A small smile formed on your mouth though you’ll never reveal that.

[hauntedhokage]

kiss prompt: kissing tears from the other’s face from this list

word count: 616

There wasn’t any kind of injury that could be considered less than a catastrophe in Sae’s world. He worked so hard to keep his body in top shape; extensive hours of stretching, never skipping a warm up or cool down, and intentional focus and care into recovery all to ensure that he didn’t get injured and have to miss any practice or match time. Lost time meant lost progress, and lost progress made for a very grumpy Sae. 

The ankle sprain of 2020 was an event his manager would never forget and something you’d been given the in depth story on as a warning for what you would be getting into by dating Sae. 

But this was worse than a sprained ankle during practice; that was something explained off without going into detail about the extent of his alleged injury. The scene you were watching was so much worse. He’d lost traction on the grass due to the rain and mud while mid pass, and from where you sat it looked like he had twisted his knee in the fall. This was horrifying, and you hope to never see him look so pained ever again. 

He’s bitter and volatile while getting evaluated by the team’s doctors, less so with the nurses when you’re sitting in a hospital room with him, and eventually he simmers down to just being bitter and frustrated when you're arranging him in the hotel room to keep his leg elevated the way you’d been instructed to. He wouldn’t need surgery, thankfully, but a week of bed rest followed by two-to-four weeks of only light solo exercise and physical therapy before he could be cleared to get back on the field was the equivalent to his life ending. 

He's quiet as he watches you navigate the room to make sure your bags were packed, you think he’s trying to figure out how to navigate public spaces without using the crutches he’d been told to use. You know he’s miserable, and if you could fix it you certainly would, but nothing you could say would have a high rate of success in making him feel better so you don’t know what to really say. 

“Babe, do you think my neck pillow around your knee would help?” you ask, turning to face him with your adjustable neck pillow in hand while you try to adjust it to how big you thought Sae’s knee was. What you see is Sae looking back at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his brow furrowed. This was a face you’d seen on a few very rare occasions, which has you dropping the pillow on his gear bag in your hurry to get into the bed with him. The tear streaks are clear now that you’re closer to him, your hands settling on his cheeks as you lean in to kiss his nose. 

“Crying like an infant, it’s shameful,” he mutters, making you shake your head as you tilt his head back to look up at you properly. “I’m not supposed to make mistakes.”

“You did today, but you’re human and that’s okay,” you whisper, kissing his cheek along the trail of fallen tears. “People thought you were playing like a true European and selling hard for the other team to get carded.”That earns a snort from your frustrated midfielder, and you kiss his cheek once more before pulling back to rest your forehead against his. Your request that he stop beating himself up is met with a sigh, his eyes leaving yours momentarily as he tells you he’ll try - which was close enough, you weren’t expecting even an attempt at getting over this for another two weeks.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! All of you do fantastic work! Do you have any fics with like magical curses and true loves kiss? I don’t really care about rating. Thank you again!!

Hello! You can fics along these kinds of lines on our #fantasy au tag. Here are some curse/true love's kiss specific fics...

The Fairy Prince, the Toad and the Snake by KannaOphelia (T)

Aziraphale supposed it was interesting that his flaming sword still managed to flame while underwater, but there were better ways to find out than dropping it down a well. He craned over the side and gazed down, seeing the glimmers of red and orange, far beyond his reach. "You've done it now," said the snake, watching him from the apple tree. "I suppose I have, yes." Aziraphale wondered if he could hook a rope around it or something, and draw it up. He wasn't quite sure how it would work. "Bound to happen," the snake said, not unkindly. "Don't want to go waving a big killing thing like that around. Sssssupposed to be a weapon." A Good Omens retelling of The Frog Prince, for Fairy Tale Inspired 2021

Fairest by lilliankayl (T)

(Snow White Retelling AU) Aziraphale has no memories of his father and very few of his mother. His father died when he was an infant and his mother remarried shortly afterwards. When his mother died just before his seventeenth birthday, his stepfather’s true colors were revealed. Now on the run and taking shelter from those who will help him, Aziraphale must never let the king find him, for it will surely mean his death if he is found.

The Dragon's Greatest Treasure by Sir_Bear (T)

Once upon a time, the kingdom of Eden was protected by the eternal knights. One of these ageless warriors, the healer Raphael, disappeared hundreds of years ago after saving Sir Aziraphale’s life. Now, while escorting prince Gabriel across the kingdom, Aziraphale is captured by the dragon Crowley. The two begin to fall in love, but can a relationship like their's work, when all Crowley sees himself as is a monster, and Aziraphale feels bound by his duty to the knights? *** He shrugged his scaly shoulders, his eyes looking about as if trying to find a change of topic. “Didn’t you have a magic sword?” “Uh…” “You did, you were waving it about and everything. What happened to it?” Aziraphale’s throat made a croaking noise, unwilling to answer. “Lost it already have you?” “Gave it away…” He muttered, despite himself. “You what?” Crowley’s golden eyes went wide, tilting his huge head to the side. “They’d be in danger without it!” He burst out. “There are dangerous creatures out there, not to mention you!”

A Demon's Guide to Love and Curses by cyankelpie (G)

(Crowley has been cursed by a witch, cut off from his powers, and trapped in serpent form. Only a True Love’s Kiss can restore him to his former self. There’s just one problem: demons can’t fall in love.) “So what’s your plan?” Crowley said at last, sounding resigned. “You want me to ssslither into town, find some random human, and see if I can fall in love with them? And get them to fall for me?” “Goodness, no. That would never work.” Aziraphale crossed the floor and pulled his cloak off the coat stand. “My plan is to take you into town, and then, together, we’ll find someone for you to court.”

(Someday I'll Be) Part of Your World by Pearl09 (T)

Aziraphale is a merman who likes human things a little too much. Crowley is a human who just wants to leave the awful place he’s at. A chance meeting, a surprising rescue, lead to more than the two of them ever imagined. Would they truly risk their own souls to be with each other? And, more importantly, will they meet the necessary requirements on time to keep them? A Little Mermaid au/fusion featuring two pining idiots.

hearts and thoughts fade away (I swear I recognize your breath) by Melime (M)

Due to a clerical error, Crowley is cursed by Hell, losing his memories of the past six thousand years. Now, Aziraphale has to regain his trust and find a way to cure him, but the only way to do this is by confronting his own prejudices regarding demons' capacity to love.

- Mod D

[muzzlemouths]

Were the DMD boys ever witnesses to a baby's firsts? Like first words or first steps?

Superstar Shopping Center, circa 1977

“Did you need help with that?”

Sun moseys up to a mother who looks like she’s got her hands full – literally. Four shopping bags balanced on one arm and a baby in the other. A second child — five or six, if he had to guess — clings to the tail of her mother’s jacket in lieu of a free hand, dressed in her Sunday Best. She ducks behind her mother’s arm as Sun nears and addresses him with a look tied between awe and apprehension.

Contrarily, her mother regards Sun with nothing but relief, handing over all but one of her bags the moment his hands extend to take them. “Well, thank you!” She reorients the remaining bag to sit at her elbow so the little girl at her side has a proper handhold and gently scolds her for continuing to hide.

“It’s quite alright,” Sun assures her with a kind smile. He crouches to be more at eye-level with the child and offers her a little wave, taking no offense to the way she peeks only slightly out from behind her mother. “That’s a very pretty dress,” he says. It’s a Carter's collared plaid, Christmas-time red, with a white dog-eared collar and rabbit embroidery. Perfectly suited for the season. “Are you headed somewhere special?”

“Just down to Shutterbug,” the mother laughs, answering Sun’s question when her daughter doesn’t budge. “I know it’s still early in the season, but I have an endless list of things to get around to before the month’s end, so we’re just going to get our photos done now, and the family will just receive their cards a little early, this year.”

“Oh, certainly,” he nods sagely, as if he’s even once sent a Christmas card himself, “better to get it over and done with before everyone and their mother realizes they’ve forgotten to sign and seal their envelopes!”

“Exactly!” She laughs again. “I figure, well, I might as well get some gift shopping done since I’m already here, but–”

Right on cue, the infant in her arms begins to wail his poor little head off, and she grimaces.

“Finding it hard to get anything done with your hands full?” Sun asks, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Well, that’s nothing I can’t fix! I could carry your other bags for you, or–”

“Could you babysit?”

He straightens with a jolt, nearly dropping the bags he already carried in the process. “Oh! Well, um, company policy doesn’t exactly allow me to–”

“It would just be for a few minutes. An hour, at most.” She gives him a pleading look. “You’re coded with childcare protocols, aren’t you?”

“I–” Sun scrambles for an answer. “My training extends to some childcare etiquette, but–”

“Perfect!” She lofts the infant into his arms like he is nothing more than a small sack of potatoes. “This is George. He’s nine months old as of last week, was just changed, and ate an hour ago, so he should be an angel for you.”

“W-What about his shoes?” He tucks the child against his shoulder and gestures worriedly towards his itty little toes, clothed in nothing but the navy blue footie he wears.

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s still too young!” The woman insists, “George has only just learned how to crawl, I doubt he’ll be walking any time soon. You have nothing to worry about!”

“But–”

“I’ll come find you in an hour when I’m all finished up. Thank you again!”

The mother turns on her heel like she’s being chased out by fire, leaving Sun there in the center of the mall aisle, still as a statue and stunned into silence.

There was a kernel of truth to his words. Both he and Moon had been programmed with the know-how in terms of child rearing basics, and in fact it was the very first frame of coding that he recalls having. For what purpose, he isn’t sure. It has lied dormant beneath layers of more relevant protocols for years and only ever makes an appearance when he’s interacting with the few children the mall sees from time to time. Even still, it is nothing in the way of proper training for how to care for an infant so small, and for so long.

Needless to say, he was panicking.

The first thing he does after quieting the infant’s cries is find another employee and hand off the bags, instructing them to be brought to Shutterbug and kept behind the desk for the time being.

With his hands freed he can focus all of his attention on the child who, for what it’s worth, has been a perfect angel in the short time since he was haphazardly carted into Sun’s arms. Quiet as a church mouse after that first little outburst, and just as cute, too, the little bundle of joy looking up at him with big brown eyes full of wonder.

Sun returns his gaze with a long sigh. “Now then, what are we going to do with you?”

The protocols that once were dormant now rose to the surface and screamed at him to engage the child in “stimulating activities“, whatever that meant. Instructions for playtime involved everything from games like peekaboo and patty-cake to more developmental activities, such as playing music, coloring, or toying with building blocks. Sun doubted that Bee Gees’ hit single “Stayin’ Alive” was anything in the way of educational for the tiny tot as it played over the speakers, and — to the best of his knowledge — he can’t recall ever having access to building blocks or coloring books. That left nothing but the traditional baby games, tried and true, and easy enough!

He borrows a small blanket from a store nearby and finds a cozy spot on the floor, tucked safely between two plant boxes, to set him down. Sun finds that playing these games comes almost naturally to him — but that’s a given, isn’t it? He follows the instruction manual in his code to the letter, pride and joy overwhelming his stint of uncertainty each time he comes out from hiding behind his hands to the sound of shrill laughter, every “Peek-a-boo!” earning him a motley of giggles and a baby-toothed smile.

Distraction arrives in the form of an employee struggling to carry a stack of boxes into the store behind him. He’s on his feet and across the room in an instant as one protocol briefly overrides the other, and it’s only for a moment — just a moment — but when he turns around again it is to the sight of an empty blanket.

His charge has gone missing.

Panic overwhelms every one of his sensors, rushing along his circuits like adrenaline through veins gripping him with a fear so potent it threatens to shut down his system right then and there.

No, think! His mother said he had only just learned to crawl, which meant little George couldn’t have gone far. Unless the infant hadn’t gone anywhere by himself at all, and rather, someone had come along and–

Sun shut down that train of thought the moment it struck him. He would never forgive himself if something so terrible happened on his watch, saying nothing of what management would do to him if a child was abducted right from under his nose.

He decides the best course of action right now is to follow the same protocol he would use for any other “lost” child. Yes, lost, that’s all they were. It’s so easy to get lost in a mall as large as this one. Sun comforts himself with the knowledge that he has never let a lost child go unfound before. His success rate is a perfect 100%, and he intends to keep it that way.

First, he scans the security cameras for any sight of the child. He is sure to look in every nook and cranny, and he deflates with growing dread when that little navy footie doesn’t appear anywhere on the screens. His voice cuts through the employee radio a moment later and describes the child with every possible detail he can think of, asking that any sighting of the little straggler be reported to him immediately. He hopes against every star in the sky that the mother doesn’t happen to overhear from an employee nearby.

Lastly, he heads out in search of help.

Moon is meant to be working on the upper floor today, helping Sun handle the usual holiday rush, and his lack of response to the radio call is concerning. Not too concerning, though, given that Sun finds him right where he’d been expecting to.

That is, sprawled atop the lockers in the employee break room, one arm dangling over the side, the other resting casually over his waist, and a VOGUE magazine draped over his face.

‘Lazy’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of the words Sun wants to use. They’ve talked about this, the bad habit having put Moon in trouble a number of times already, but that’s an argument for another day.

There’s no time to mince words right now, and so he doesn’t. Instead, Sun stalks across the room and slams his fist against the lockers beneath his sleeping coworker, who sits upright with such force that his head makes contact with the ceiling and crashes through like a train into glass.

It might have been funny if Sun wasn’t as whipped up into a panic as he is, but as it stands he can hardly even keep from raising his voice when he addresses Moon with a scowl. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Sun hisses, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. “I take it you didn’t hear my radio call?”

Moon serves him with a glower of his own, snarling deep within his voicebox as he runs his hand over the glassy side of his faceplate to ensure that it’s still intact. He has the decency to look a little guilty, if only for a moment, cerulean blue eyes lowering to the radio attached at his hip that is visibly turned to OFF.

“Of course not,” Sun tuts.

Griping, Moon dusts the ceiling powder from his shoulders. “What could be so important that you had to–”

“I lost a baby.”

The words render him speechless, a long, uncomfortable silence taking up the space between them for all of a minute before Moon blurts out, “Sun, you don’t have a baby.”

“That’s because I lost him!” Sun shrills, beginning to pace. “I was helping a mother with her bags, and she asked me to babysit, a-and I know we aren’t technically allowed to, but– but it all just happened so fast!” His arms flailed for emphasis. “She said he wasn’t even walking yet, I thought it’d be easy! Everything was going so well, too, we were playing a game of peek-a-boo and then – then someone needed help. I only had my back turned for a minute, Moon. Maybe even less! But then I turned around, and…”

“You lost a baby,” he mutters to himself. Moon runs both hands over his face, sighing into his palms. “You lost a baby,” he repeats. “How do you lose an entire child?”

“I don’t know!” Sun answers, voice cracking with guilt. “Will you help me find them?”

“Obviously.” Moon hops down from the lockers (pointedly ignoring the massive hole in the ceiling – he’d come up with an excuse to tell management later) and is already crossing the room when he speaks again. “Management will take it out on both of us if they find out, so you need to get a grip. Your face looks like you just watched someone plummet to their death, for fucks’s sake.” He pauses at the door. “Did you get a scan of their face?”

“O-Of course!”

“Good. Transfer the image to me along with any other information that might be helpful. I’ll search the exits, you take the first story department stores.”

“What about the second floor?”

He fits him with a quizzical expression, going as far as to form an eyebrow with the stars on his faceplate screen and arch it pointedly. “You said this kid wasn’t walking yet,” Moon reminds him. “If someone ‘napped the little guy, they aren’t going to stick around, much less be caught shopping. They’ll head for the exits, first.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And if you just coincidentally happened to have been babysitting the world’s fastest crawler, they would still be stuck on the first floor,” he continues, “which is why we’re checking there first.”

“Right. Right. You’re right.” Sun’s nod is shaky at best. His hands wring together with a tension that threatens to pop the joints out of place with each anxious tug.

Moon sighs and crosses the room again to place a hand on Sun’s shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he comforts, giving the shoulder a gentle squeeze, “but we need to go now. You won’t fix anything by standing here worrying.”

“Right,” he repeats, working to smother his nerves for the sake of focusing on the task at hand. “You check the exits, I’ll check the department stores. We’ll meet up at the fountain in thirty minutes if neither of us find anything?”

“Ten minutes,” Moon asserts. He wastes no further time, leaving Sun with only that and a firm nod before pacing out of the room.

Sun hopes they aren’t already too late.

-

Their search yields nothing but more disappointment. Ten painfully long minutes of searching that ends with them meeting at the fountain equally empty handed and with no further leads.

“We’re too late,” wails Sun, already catastrophizing. “How am I going to explain this to their mother? She’ll never forgive me, I’ll never forgive me–” His fingers hook around the rays beside his chin, the thin metal groaning beneath the force and threatening to snap right then and there, “–and management — stars, Moon, we’re going to be dismantled over this!”

“Lower your voice!” Moon snaps. He looks around, ensuring that that their crime — Sun’s crime — hasn’t been overheard. Luckily, it appears the fountain has drowned out their conversation sufficiently. “You need to calm down,” he continues. “I’m sure they’re somewhere around here.”

“We’ve checked everywhere!” His left ray bends under the pressure, molding to the shape of his fingers, slowly but surely. “I should have never let this happen. What was I thinking, turning my back on them? Now they’re all alone, o-or hurt, somewhere, or–”

“Hey, hey.” Moon takes him by the wrist, careful yet firm as he pries Sun’s fingers away from his mangled ray then holds his hand at a distance, so he can’t hurt himself further. “You made a mistake,” he agrees, “but it’s not fair to hold all of that blame yourself. You have no frame of reference for this sort of thing, we aren’t meant to be taking care of children in the first place.”

“I should have known better!” Sun insists. “How can I be expected to run a daycare if I can’t even look after one kid?”

Moon freezes, his optics flickering in a blink. “We–” slowly, he releases Sun’s wrist, “–we aren’t a daycare, Sun. We’re a mall. Are…are you feeling okay?”

“I…” Alarms and notices flood his screen, blocking Moon from view. Corroded files long since forgotten behind firewalls and newly instated protocols. He looks for answers in their overwhelming code and finds nothing but more questions; a lingering sense of awareness always just out of his reach. Then they’re gone, swept away all at once as his system tidies itself up, and he can think clearly again. “We’re in a mall,” he echoes, nodding to himself, “we run a mall. We’re mascots, not – not–” He faces Moon with a calmer disposition, forcing a smile, “I’m alright, now.”

“I always preferred the term Icon,” says Moon, “’mascot’ makes us sound like those people in animal suits waving around signs outside of businesses.” He laughs, and Sun laughs, too, but it’s strained. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He sighs with the last crumb of uncertainty. “I’m fine, just…confused, I guess. I think the anxiety is getting to me.” When he straightens again it’s with newfound gusto, a determination to make things right. “None of our employees have reported seeing anyone carting off with a baby that fits George’s description, so he must still be here. Do you want to try the second floor after all?”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” says Moon. He takes another look around, eyes scanning the area for any possible lead, until his star-studded eyebrow arches downward. “You said he was wearing a blue footie?”

“Navy blue,” Sun nods his confirmation, “with a little white pocket on the front.”

“Like that?”

He follows Moon’s point all the way to the escalator, where good ol’ George is sat, halfway up to the second story, already, suckling at his thumb like this is any other Tuesday.

“That’s–” Sun feels like he’s going to scream, “that’s him!”

“Huh. Baby on an escalator,” he mutters inquisitively. “Never seen that before.”

“Moon!”

Not wanting to risk any more dillydallying, Sun rushes past him and beelines through the crowd, anxiety pulsing through him tenfold as he gets caught up in a group of customers gathered on the escalator themselves.

Moon takes an alternative route, opting to skip the escalator steps all together. Instead he leaps directly onto the handrail, steady and practiced, and carefully avoids his customer’s fingers as he races upward.

Sun meets him at the top an excruciating few seconds after and feels his composure slip further upon seeing him empty handed. “Where–?”

“I don’t know,” Moon interrupts, looking just as confused. “He was already gone when I got up here.”

“Seriously?” He braces both palms across his arms, hugging himself tightly so he doesn’t just rip out his rays all together. “He’s a baby, for Pete’s sake. How far could he have gone? How does this keep happening?”

“There!” Moon points a little ways off, where little George — somehow, someway — is spotted riding a runaway janitor’s cart, its wheels spiraling uncontrollably forward and headed straight for the wall.

“Stop that cart!” Shrieks Sun, already halfway across the room and hot on the cart’s tail.

The crowd is thick, clusters of customers all aiming to get their holiday shopping in before the real chaos begins, and it makes the already out of hand situation that much harder.

Sun hears the crash before he sees it, and feels his battery operated heart sink. The sight he’s met with upon finally reaching the end of the balcony is disastrous at best. The cart rests in a broken mess on the floor, having evidently bounced into a pair of trash cans rather than collide with the wall. One of said cans has toppled onto its side from the impact, and the trail of garbage leading out of it paints a perplexing picture.

Moon catches up with him a minute later, fans whirring like he’s out of breath. “Is he–”

“Gone,” Sun answers, aghast. He points to the breadcrumbs (literally) that trail out of the toppled can. “I think he fell into the garbage.”

“Well, that’s better than the wall,” hums Moon. “Maybe it cushioned his fall? And then the trashcan fell over…” he trails off.

“And he just…crawled out?” Sun finishes the thought, then raises his chin. The two share a dumbfounded expression.

“Sun, what kind of mutant child did you agree to babysit?”

“Don’t be rude!” He chastises. “George is just…special.”

“Yeah, specially designed to outwit us. They should have called him Curious George.” His eye follows the garbage trail until it peters out a few feet down. “Where do you suppose he went now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sun groans. “Should we split up?”

“Good idea. You take the east wing, I’ll go west. Reconvene in thirty minutes?”

“Ten,”‌ corrects Sun, grimacing at the deja vu. “His mother promised an hour, and it’s already been over half of that. If we can’t find him in ten minutes, then we - we–”

“We are going to find him,” Moon assures, bolstering Sun’s confidence as best as he can. “We just need to focus, alright? No more running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

Sun nods his agreement. “Right, okay. You’re right. I won’t let a baby run me in circles around my own mall.” His frazzled expressions calms, at that, and he smiles. “Just a nine-month infant who crawls a little faster than normal, that’s all he is. Easy peasy!”

-

What happens next is neither easy nor peasy. In fact, calling it ‘running circles’ is an understatement. In the next ten minutes alone, little George sends both of them out on nothing short of a wild goose chase, appearing in nigh impossible positions each and every time and always just out their grasp.

Sun is the first to find him. Tucked into the one corner of a store that the cameras don’t reach, donning a pair of sunglasses of all things (upside-down, mind you), and playing with a silicone whisk from the kitchenware section. Sun is only a short distance away when a customer taps him on the shoulder and asks where they can find the bathroom. Of course, the little tot is already gone when he turns back around.

A few meters down, Moon discovers some discarded sunglasses on the floor. He spots a familiar pair of white padded feet a moment later and finds George climbing the side of an information kiosk. The employee inside is busy with a customer and doesn’t even notice the little rascal scaling the grounded kiosk sign like he was born to climb Everest. They notice Moon, though, and are all too eager to introduce one of the mall’s very own mascots to the customer who is, apparently, visiting for the very first time. It’s all Moon can do just to act polite in front of the woman as his guest-orientation protocols take over, keeping him paralyzed there even as the infant merrily drops from the sign and disappears from his sight.

Five minutes later Sun hears a shrill of laughter and turns around a corner to see George playing in the plant trough like it’s a sandbox, his navy footie all but smothered in dirt. An internal scream rips silently through his system as he grapples with the knowledge that he’s now going to get an earful even if he does successfully get his hands on the kid.

True to character, George is nowhere to be found when Sun winds up in front of the planter. He calms his nerves and protocols alike by fixing the poor flowers back into their proper position from where they had been carelessly plucked out and thrown aside. He knows there’s no saving a few of them, and he’ll need to reorder more seeds to make up for it, but that’s a headache for another day.

The current source of his vexation appears to have shown some mercy, at least. Sun finds a trail of muddy footprints leading out of the trough and down the aisle. An employee glances up from their storefront desk upon seeing him and points to the right, towards the candy store, knowing exactly what he was looking for, already. For the life of him, Sun cannot understand why they — or anyone else for that matter — hasn’t thought to stop the runaway infant. Apparently, a nine month old crawling around without parental supervision is nothing to bat an eye at to anyone in the mall’s entire vicinity.

Moon is passing by Waning Lights theater when he hears a small commotion inside. On a hunch he peeks in, expecting nothing in particular, and instead sees two enormous baby hands covering the screen. That is, two very small baby hands waving in front of the projector.

He’s up the steps in a matter of seconds, mechanics racing with the adrenaline of having finally caught the little devil, only — of course — the little hands have already disappeared, and the seat is empty, leaving only a confused employee where he once was. “You’re joking…” Moon whispers, exhausted. An already irritated customer shushes him from somewhere downstage. Distantly, he hears the telltale sound of infant babbling and begrudgingly follows it out of the theater again.

He bursts through the door and right into Sun, colliding with a loud clatter of metal and recoiling, each holding their heads respectively and groaning in perfect unison.

“Did you find him?” Sun asks around a wince.

“Technically yes, but–”

“He got away from you too?”

Moon nods. “What is it with this kid?”

“I don’t know, but we need to figure out a different plan soon. We’re already over our ten minutes.” He looks around once more for good measure, knowing the child couldn’t have gone too far, already, if they had both just spotted him a moment ago.

That’s when he sees it. Little George, nine months old, walking down the balcony aisle. Rather, the little tike is running like he’s off to the races.

“Well, that explains why he’s been able to get everywhere so fast,” says Moon, following Sun’s gaze. “I thought you said he was only starting to crawl?”

“He’s, um, a fast learner?” Sun answers sheepishly. He watches George go for all of one long, lovestruck moment — feeling like a proud parent himself — before the swell of pride in his chest shatters to make way for circuit frying terror.

See, little George has shown himself to be quite the impressive little acrobat. He can walk, he can run, he can climb, and at that very moment he is making quick work of closing the distance between himself and a stack of boxes pressed up against the balcony railing.

The only thing awaiting him on the other side is a long, long fall.

Sun darts forward without a word, but Moon is faster, weaving through the crowd with a nimble speed that he cannot compete with. “We aren’t going to make it,” Sun gasps, announcing it to himself, mostly, as horror grips him throughout. Even if they reach the railing on time, George is already at the top of the stack, raising himself onto unsteady feet and peering out into the great beyond. He’ll be over the edge before they can stop him, and they won’t make it to the first floor on time to catch him there.

But then Sun hears it; the whir of a wire, quick and sturdy as it races through its ceiling track to Moon’s beck and call. He watches its metal hook begin to lower from a few paces away, just as the infant topples up and over, and his body seizes with fear as Moon leaps over the railing after him.

He hears a click, the wire latching out of sight, going taut. Sun holds his breath until the sound of giggling follows. Peering warily over the railing, hands shaking, he sees Moon dangling halfway to the floor. Little George bounces in his arms, clapping and cheering and laughing away like this is all just another game.

Moon lowers himself the remaining distance to the floor as Sun scrambles down the elevator to meet him. He looks rightfully shaken, his faceplate screen blank of even stars, but his grip remains persistent. He’s not going to risk putting the kid down for a moment, even if he feels like he’s going to bluescreen any second now. Their landing is celebrated with the undeniable sound of George taking the world’s largest shit, and though Moon wants to be angry, all he manages to come up with in response is “Me too, kid.”

A voice calls over their internal radios right as Sun’s feet hit the floor.

“Can someone ring the mascots?” Asks the employee, “I’m stationed at Shutterbug with a customer and she says they have her baby…?”

“I’m on my way!” Sun answers the radio aloud. He takes the baby from Moon, who extends George to him from a distance, grateful — now more than ever — for their ability to turn off their nose receptors.

“What about the footie?” Moon gestures to the dirt-soaked clothes once his hands are free. “I don’t think she’s going to be happy if he’s brought back all dirty – or naked. That might be worse.”

On a whim, Sun turns George over to check the footie’s tag. Relief floods his system when he reads the name. “We carry this brand – I’ll bet anything that we have this exact footie somewhere in the store. Can you go find it?” He makes a face and turns his own nose receptors off a moment after. “Maybe a pack of diapers, too,” he laughs. “Oh! Can you also pick up a rabbit from Fluff-&-Stuff?”

“What about you?”

“I’m headed to the bathrooms so I can clean the little guy up.” He holds George up, then, wielding him like a stinky little weapon. “Unless you want to try changing a diaper?”

“Navy blue footie with a white pocket, got it,” answers Moon, already turning on his heel and heading in the opposite direction.

-

Ten minutes later, Sun exits the bathroom feeling like a brand new person. A scarred, mortified person, but new all the same. Who knew baby poop could be so traumatizing?

Moon had returned a moment before, toting with him the items that Sun had requested, and together they figured out how to dress the freshly cleaned child in a new diaper. Whoever said it wasn’t rocket science was right. It was somehow worse. Still, they persevered, and at the end of it all they had a clean, happy, freshly diapered baby to show for their efforts. Now it was just a matter of delivering him back to his mother.

“Why did you want the rabbit?” Moon asks as he trades over the stuffed animal, happy to hold little George now that the little tike isn’t a stink grenade.

“You’ll see,” answers Sun, refusing to elaborate. He rounds the corner with Moon following at his heel and steps into Shutterbug, greeting the mother with his best customer-pleasing smile. “So sorry for the wait, ma’am. George here had a bit of an accident on our way back.”

The woman tuts guilty, but is happy to see them all the same. “Oh, goodness, how embarrassing. I can pay for the diapers you used.”

“Nonsense!” He tells her with a casual wave of his hand, “We’re happy to lend a hand, and it’s not like the little guy could help himself.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” she smiles. “And he behaved for you, otherwise?”

Sun glances over his shoulder at Moon, and the two share a look.

Nodding, Moon steps forward and hands the child over when his mother extends her arms for him. “He was an angel,” Moon tells her.

They had both already agreed to keep their mouths shut on the entire ordeal, including and up to George’s newfound capabilities. Aside from how much trouble they would both find themselves in if anyone ever found out about the chase this single child had put them through, it simply wasn’t their place to mention it. Sun, especially, didn’t want to take away that special moment when his mother rightfully deserved to have it to herself.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she sighs with relief. “Thank you again for watching her. You two are a real blessing, you know that? I wouldn’t have been able to get all my ducks in a row without your help.”

“Anytime!” Sun answers. He spots a plaid dress hiding behind her, and lowers himself into a crouch. “Hello, again,” he calls to the little girl using his kindest voice, and extends the stuffed rabbit for her to take. “I noticed you had some bunnies on your dress, so I thought you might like this.”

Behind him, Moon relaxes into a fond smile.

“That’s very kind of you,” says her mother, who nudges her forward gently. “Go on, it’s okay,” she reassures her. “It’s a gift.”

The child hesitant, but eventually she peeks out from behind her mother just enough to take the offered rabbit, which she tucks against her chest in a great, big hug. “Th…Thank you,” she whispers. Then, feeling brave, she rewards him with a gap-toothed smile.

Moon clears his voice-box. “Well, we should let you get to it,” he says, full-well knowing that Sun would stay here cooing at the children all day if he let him.

And Sun, for what it’s worth, knows exactly what the vocal nudge means, and detaches himself from the family with a wave and some merry goodbyes before the two of them depart together.

“That was sweet of you,” Moon comments once they’re out of earshot. “You aren’t hoping for kids of our own, are you? I don’t think I’m ready for that level of commitment.” He elbows Sun with a smile, getting a hearty laugh out of him.

“Moon, I’ll be honest. I will be the happiest bot in the world if I never have to change another diaper again.” This time it’s Moon’s turn to laugh, and he laughs until his vocals strain with effort. “But, you know, it wasn’t too bad. Taking care of a baby, I mean. I think we make a pretty good team – and decent parents.”

“I’m the better parent,” Moon says around a wide grin. “You’re too much of a stick in the mud.”

“And you’re too spoiling!” Sun laughs, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you giving out candy to the kids that sneak off without their parents.”

“I’m teaching a valuable lesson,” Moon insists, hand flying over his heart like he’s offended by the notion. “If parents want to leave their children unattended, they have to face the consequences. It won’t be me dealing with the inevitable sugar rush.”

A gasp in the distance interrupts their playful bickering. They turn halfway, back towards Shutterbug. 

“Did you see that?” Chirps the mother, loud and clear. Her giddy voice followed immediately by the shutter of a camera. “Look – look! He’s walking!”

Again, the two share a look. Surprise becomes amusement becomes pride, then joy, and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

[plus-size-reader]

Never Ending Proposals

Steve Harrington x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2267 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Steve really wants to marry the reader, and will NOT give it up but at a certain point, he has to face reality.

—————————————————————————————————

“Steve…no”

“No”

“No Harrington”

“God, what is wrong with you? We are not getting engaged”

With the way you just kept repeating yourself, you were sure that someone was going to have you committed but it wasn’t entirely your fault.

He just wouldn’t drop it.

No matter what you tried to tell him, Steve refused to accept that you weren’t ready to be his wife yet.

You got it, you really did. You had heard his fantasy over and over again, about all the kids and the camper van and all that.

It sounded nice… after you had secure careers and could actually afford a camper full of Harrington's. Until then, you were just going to keep saying no, and it didn’t matter how sweet Steve was, or how much he genuinely meant each proposal.

As far as you were concerned, Steve Harrington was still a child, and so were you. Neither of you had any business getting married or starting a family yet.

Just last week, you’d lost Dustin in the mall, and you were confident he was easier to handle than an infant. At least, you hoped he was, considering how much trouble he caused the two of you all by himself.

How were you supposed to juggle everything you already did on top of marital responsibilities? You couldn’t.

There was no way to feasibly make it work.

Not that your partner saw that as clearly as you did, as evidenced by the fact you were once again talking about it, this time driving down the road.  

“I just think it would be nice, y’know?” Steve hummed, getting that dreamy look in his eye again, even though you’d already shot this particular fantasy down once this week.

You smiled in spite of yourself, enjoying the fact that he’d clearly given the more romantic parts of his plan some decent thought. In every way except the practical, he knew exactly how it would go down if you agreed.

Unfortunately, you had your focus placed firmly in reality, where there was no ring on your finger and you liked it that way-for the time being, at least.

“It would be nice, but we aren’t ready” you reminded, resting back fully against your chair, turning your head to meet his gaze before he returned his to the road.

That wasn’t he wanted to hear.

Part of you felt bad for shooting him down so readily. You understood the sentiment, and it would be a lie to say that his insistence on being with you was romantic but it was also crazy.

If you went through with it now, it would be like playing house. It wouldn’t actually be something you could sustain all on your own, and that was just the marriage part. You were even less ready to be parents.

You didn’t even have reliable parents of your own. You wouldn’t know how to be them.

“Why not? We always make it through, together,” he kept going, muscle memory almost entirely driving him now, as he ran his left hand through his hair, only partially focusing on the road.

From where he was sitting, it made perfect sense.

Sure, getting married young like you were was a little unorthodox, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon, especially in a small town like Hawkins. Besides, if anyone had any hope of making it work, he was sure it was you.

The two of you, getting through things together and making it work, no matter what. That was who you were and who you’d always been, for one another.

Marriage was just a formality.

A way to make it permanent, forever.

“We could definitely handle marriage” Steve shrugged decidedly, taking your silence as as much of an answer as he was going to get for now.

He knew you weren’t ready, but it didn’t bother him. You were worth waiting for and if waiting was what you wanted to do, you would do it.

…but he wasn’t going to stop proposing.

Steve made up his mind. He wanted to marry you more than he’d wanted anything in a long time and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

Not that you could even dream of something like that.

You were painfully aware of the situation at hand, sometimes to the point that the pressure nearly crushed you. After all, Steve had dated a lot of girls before you, and of all of them, you were the one he chose to propose to and not just once.

He had proposed to you more times than you could keep track of, though the most memorable ones had certainly carved out a place in your mind.

The first time, for example, you and Steve had gone to the park and halfway through your walk, he’d made up his mind, and dropped to his knee right there.

Then there were the most elaborate schemes of all; like the time he’d sent a single slip of paper to your house every day for a month, all with the same proposal penned into the paper in blue ink, or when he’d hidden his grandmother’s diamond in a soda can.

Each and every one was crafted with so much effort and care, and he’d put so much time into every individual moment and detail.

It was a beautiful testament to how much he cared for you, and part of you wanted to say yes.

…but you couldn’t.

Wouldn’t. Not until you knew the time was right.

“We could. But first, we have to handle the video store” you reminded, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek before ducking out of the car entirely, leaving the man you loved to once again ponder over another failed conversation.

“I can handle the video store” he muttered, content to enjoy another day by your side, even if it was just as your boyfriend.

~

“Hey Steve” you called, rounding the corner to the horror section where he was restocking inventory, finally making up your mind, once and for all.

As endearing as he was, and as genuine as his feelings were for you, something had to change.

The pressure of all this marriage and babies stuff was going to drive you crazy, and you couldn’t feel like he was just constantly waiting for you to say yes, like you were keeping him from the one thing he really wanted.

Like being his girlfriend wasn’t enough anymore.

As soon as he heard your voice, the man stopped dead in his tracks, glancing at you over his shoulder, a huge grin on his handsome face.

“There’s my favorite girl. How were the romantic comedies?” he hummed, referring to the section you’d been assigned for the night.

Right now, it was just the two of you on the floor, given the fact Robin had drawn the short straw and was currently locked in the back room. Normally, that would mean a fair amount of sneaky kisses and misquoted movies, but not tonight.

Tonight, you couldn’t stop thinking about the talk you’d had on your way in and you needed some closure, before you drove yourself crazy.

“They’re fine. I was just thinking and I wanted to run something by you” you tried, watching as Steve immediately put down the box he’d been working on and turned his fullest attention to you, as if there was nothing else in the world.

Which, to be fair, there may has well been, in Steve’s mind.

“Sure, what’s up?”

His words hung in the air for only a moment before you finally blurted out what you’d been thinking about all day, without any of the tact you’d been hoping for.

“I need you to stop proposing to me” You started, slightly panicking now that it was all out in the open. Almost instantly, you felt that weight on your chest, no doubt punishment for crushing whatever happy family dream your boyfriend had for the two of you.

Understandably, there was silence between you for a moment as Steve tried to process what you were telling him.

Thankfully, you stepped in again before he could let his brain run wild with this new information. You wanted to make sure that he understood that you weren’t telling him no forever, or ending things, all you wanted to do was wait a little bit longer.

After all, you had ever intention of marrying him, as soon as you reasonably could.

“I love you, more than anything, and one day, you will be the most amazing husband. I just want to wait a little while longer” you cooed, speaking as quickly as you possibly could.

More silence.

By this point, you were sure that you’d upset him, maybe more than you ever had in the course of your relationship.

There was no way to know for sure considering Steve, the most expressive person you’d ever known, wasn’t actually saying or doing anything.

Until, of course, he did.

All at once, the man you loved was standing in front of you, holding your hands gingerly in his own as if you may actually slip through them if he wasn’t careful.

“What is it? Are you worried about your parents? Or my parents? Is it money? Because I can take more shifts. I’m just saying, I could definitely support you, we can figure it out” Steve assured, squeezing your hands, his face so close to your own that you could see the slight flecks of green in his eyes.

Which, of course, nearly melted you.

While you knew it was a bad idea, it was moments like this that made you want to marry him that much more.

He was so amazing.

You knew that there was nothing Steve wouldn’t do for the people he loved, and somehow you’d found yourself in the middle of that…you were lucky to be in love with him, you knew that.

All you were asking was to be with him, in this moment, instead of constantly yearning for a future that you weren’t prepared for yet.

“It’s none of that. I just can’t handle the pressure of it. I don’t want to feel like I’m letting you down” you sighed, deflating at his earnestness.

You loved him so much, and you just needed that to be enough for now.

Steve nearly scoffed at that before forcing it down. Clearly, even though it made no sense to him, that was how you were feeling and he had no right to take away from that.

“You could never let me down,”

Say what you may about Steve Harrington, but he was nothing if not determined to be happy and nothing brought him more happiness than his girl. You were his everything, and if he had to give up every other one of his vices to make you his, then he would just have to learn to live without the rest of it.

It was unbelievable to him that you were actually his girlfriend, and even a smile from you could brighten his whole day and send away the rain.

No matter what you two went through together, you had always been by his side, and the truest love he’d ever had.

The least he could do was try to return that favor for you.

That being said, this morning when he brought it up, he knew that you weren’t going to be happy with him but he didn’t really care. He wanted you to be his wife, and would do whatever it would take to get to that point.

Which wasn’t fair.

At some point, he should have considered the position he was putting you in, and since he hadn’t, Steve was grateful you’d brought it up.

The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, or make anything harder for you. That was quite literally the reason he wanted to marry you in the first place, so that he could make sure you were always content.

“I love you, that’s what this whole thing is about. So, if you aren’t ready, we’ll wait” he decided, a flood of relief washing over you in an instant.

That was all you needed to hear.

That he wasn’t angry with you, and that he was okay with putting off any greater life planning until you were actually prepared for them.

Steve wasn’t thrilled about it, of course, but he knew what you were saying. In fact, this was one of the reasons he loved you so much. You were so much more realistic than he was, and if he didn’t have you, it was possible that he wouldn’t be able to function even half as well.

“I love you” he repeated, wrapping his arms around you fully now, in what had to be the most comforting hug you’d ever shared.

Not that you could be shocked, even now.

Everything that Steve ever did made him feel that much more irreplaceable to you and he really was. It warmed your heart to know that he was so serious about all of this, and that he really did love you as much as he claimed to.

“I love you! We’ll get there. I promise” you whispered back, giving him a strong squeeze before pulling away almost completely, though not far, considering the fact that you could still feel his breath fanning your face.

“Okay, then I have a promise for you,” Steve grinned, tapping his chin, almost as if deep in thought, before he finally made up his mind.

“I promise that the next time I propose will be the last time”

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | Stranger

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

cw (chapter specific): emotional infidelity, abuse, murder, suicide, misogyny

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: in which Claude completely loses his head.

He opened his eyes once more to the dimness of his bedroom. His despair did not break, it lengthened like a long red string from one life to the other. His body was whole, reset again to perfect health and he knew that the ringing of his ears with the sound of an infant wailing was only an illusion. However, that reality only made things harder to bear than if there were medicine to be taken to rid himself of the noise. He laid in bed for a while longer, gazing listlessly at the sliver of sunlight that slipped through his heavy curtains. He gave himself over to the utter despondency of one who simply has no choice but to go on. That darkness was very tempting, he could give his strength over to it, he could fall backwards into it and know it would embrace him like a mother. But Claude was not so used to his helplessness, so somewhere in his mind, he held a small flicker of determination which kept him from falling completely. He had but wax wings to fly with and the sun was indeed approaching but he had some thought that he could reach you before they melted. 

He set eyes on Diana yet again, and yet again with childish glee. He looked deeply into her ruby eyes and saw nothing but the blood which was still wet on the bedsheets you laid cold and lost to the world on. He thought of the violence of it, your marriage. Even still, the muddled euphoria of being in Diana’s presence raged on, desperately trying to smother everything else. The memory of you remained a cold corner in his mind, a cell to lock his inner self inside as if it would help anything. As if that was the person who needed to be contained, needed to be reminded. But he was just so disgusted with himself, from his past life and watching his current one from outside a body that no longer seemed to be his own that he needed a place to take everything. He needed someone to punish…and he had no one who would obey but himself. He had no one to blame but himself regardless of the fact that he no longer even knew who that was. A ghost perhaps, unable to rest and unable to move forward, to be better. He would always be that man who died under the sword of your knight, always the last to realize. Always too late to save you.

In the corner of his eye, casting a shadow over Diana’s eyes, he saw you stumble to the table. You were a sight that shocked his body into moving as he would if only he controlled it. He had never seen you this way, you stumbled clumsily like you were drunk but your face was harrowed and tense. Words of concern left his mouth but he knew, he knew what the truth was. For once, he knew without doubt what had been done as it unfolded. He looked into your eyes and knew. 

Had you come back the same as he had?

“Where are they?” You muttered. His heart dropped. Your eyes were unfocused, forever staring at a point past both he and Diana, at an unreachable figment. He saw your chest rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. He saw your body tremble. 

“Sister?” Diana called, her eyes clouding with genuine confusion and unease. Her lovely face went slack with surprise as she watched her sister mumble like a madwoman.

“Where is my child?” Words that bit a hole through his chest. He had desperately hoped that what he believed couldn't possibly be but just those words alone had consumed him completely. You confirmed the nature of this reality, the true extent of his sins. The you who had given birth to his copy, who had died knowing her husband was at the side of another woman, who had died believing he doubted her fidelity, was the same you who stood before him now.

He remembered the eyes of your daughter, those teary eyes without malice that he thought would damn him. He was wrong to think the girl was his complete copy, no, right now he felt her eyes and yours were the same. Crying for something lost, a hazy, clouded little memory. A warmth that dissipated into nothing, a weight that held them to the earth.

But the resemblance was fleeting for your eyes quickly filled with anger. You seized Diana by the shoulders and you looked into her eyes unflinchingly, although Claude’s body rose on instinct, the him within only wondered if you saw in those rosy eyes the very same thing  he did.

“It wasn’t enough for you to have him, you wanted the only thing—” He didn’t let you finish, he was grabbing you and pulling you away from Diana like an animal. He felt his hand take your arm into a forbidding grasp. He could not stop, it was useless but if it were inevitable he wished to retreat inside. At very least he did not want to watch himself hurt you, not as he carried the knowledge that you had every right to go mad. Every right in the world to rage against him, rage against Diana even if in her eyes was an utter guileless that he could not deny.

“You don’t have a child yet. No one has taken anything from you.” Uselessly cruel words from a thoroughly and uselessly cruel man. They were more than lies, they were violence. He knew he was robbing you of any right to mourn the loss of a child who never had the chance to even have a name of her own. Forcing you to pretend, he was dragging you from your child just the same as death had. He was twice as forbidding as the universe, far more cruel, far more violent because unlike the universe, he knew your pain inside and out. And he watched himself wound you again.

You wilted, went limp in his grasp, your eyes went blank and confused. Your eyes were big and teary like your daughter’s were. “Please help me….I….” You muttered. He knew you were seeing her in him as you pulled away from his hold and he thinks, just for a moment, he might have been the one to soften his grip. To open his hands. It had felt like a long time since he could control his body in any meaningful way, he could no longer be certain. You were swaying on your feet, teetering away from him. He was still arrogant enough to want to comfort you, even knowing he was the source of your pain. His limbs almost trembled to hold you. To tell you that he had known your daughter too.

Instead, your knight stepped forward and gently caught you before you fell. He felt such a relief to see you caught even if his own body would not move at will. And then he felt…a sickness he could not place. “I’m afraid my lady isn’t feeling well, I’ll see her to her room” He said, without looking at Claude. He spoke informally, inconsiderately. Before he could respond, Felix was already walking away with you. A hollow hearted feeling came over him as he watched your body lean against his as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to earth. He ought to have been relieved and the darkness that grew on him mostly felt annoyed at your outburst but it wasn’t the only thing there…his heart was sinking too. The one that was his own.

This life, despite the revelation he’d been shown, was much the same except that he was far more brazen than he’d ever been before. He came over to your parent’s manor without even hiding the fact that he only intended to see Diana. You stayed wherever you were, he wasn’t even sure you knew he was there. Your mother led him up to Diana’s room without question, not once did she utter your name. Nor did he. 

Again he was shut into a shared world with Diana. Her love was like climbing ivy, it smothered and it grew until he could not see anything more. But a part of him loved the feeling so desperately, he hoped he’d never breathe again without feeling the leaves brush against his insides. He hoped her love would grow part of him, he hoped that her love would continue to be so evasive that he would feel her vines cage his lungs. The longing for her to be a fundamental part of his life was strong, so strong that he pretended it was already so. When he strode up to your parents’ doorstep, he pretended he was supposed to be there for Diana, that she was his fiancée.  He did not even have to ask her to indulge this charade, she was more than happy to live in one of the romance novels that lined her bookshelf.

It did not escape his notice that you had been imprisoned in your own home. He looked toward your window each time he came over and the bars installed there remained. You did not even leave your room, he knew not whether you’d been forbidden or whether you simply did not want to see his face. The latter was the better, he thought, if you hated him then there was something to be saved. You not been entirely broken if you still had capacity to hate him for what he did. It would mean you understood his fault, it was all his fault. He would tell you as much if he was free to speak. He would say, “Give it to me, give me what pain you carry and leave it there.”

In this life, he saw you scarcely, desired you frequently. He was pulled this way and that by the high of Diana’s love and the time slowly disappeared. There was dread in the days approaching your wedding and he lived in a daze, always in a daze. This devouring thing inside made him feel bleak, numbed all his concern to nothing but the pathetic mourning for Diana. The wedding date slowly approaching was like a noose around his neck slowly tightening and he knew exactly when the platform would drop from beneath him but it did not give him peace. He could not enjoy his final moments. In other words, he was burdened on both sides.

The day your parents arrived hastily, hands clasped and eyes on the floor, informed him that you’d run away, the first thing he felt was relief. It hit him like the first burst of cold air from outdoors, it stunned him that his own consciousness was forefront for once. But before he had the time to wonder, there was more to be said.

Your mother, her eyes on the floor, had more to confess. She looked like a scolded little girl and frankly, he wanted to laugh at her until she opened her mouth. “It seems she has run away with her personal knight.” She was near choking on the words as if they made her sick.

A strange feeling came over him. A unbearable burn searing through his chest at the thought of you with Felix, alone and out of reach. But his lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, a bitter and hateful smile. “Our knights will take over the search for them.” The anger of his greater self, took him over with ease. It buried and twisted into him. It grew to a flame that cast his own consciousness into shadow. You betrayed him, you ran away with another man after promising to spend your life with another. He grabbed onto the fragments of thoughts his empowered self was too angry to finish. “How could she…” “A whore, nothing but a whore…” “If I ever see her again–”

Wherever you went, he hoped it was too far for his men to reach. He hoped you’d never be close enough for him to reach again. The darkness churned up thoughts to quell itself. Thoughts of the violence he felt owed.

In the days without you, he stewed in his own thoughts. The silver lining was being given reprieve from Diana, at least most of the time. She still sent her letters and he still answered them and enjoyed the brief moment of peace they bought him. The first letter, a hateful thing of pretty lace and ribbons, he wanted to throw out without reading but his hands worked against his own interests and he was treated to Diana’s apology. She apologized for her sister running away and disgracing him. ‘Disgrace?’ he remembered thinking. ‘Am I the one who has been disgraced?’ His fingers traced the lace decorating the letter, as he remembered what he’d accused his wife of in their very earliest life and the life directly after. Death by prison filth and deprivation, death by birthing the child of a man who left her alone. A disgrace? What did he know about being disgraced? All he knew was the very opposite.

All of these were whispers, of course. His greater self was soothed by Diana’s words, words he felt negated his responsibility. For what had he done other than be an exemplary fiancé? What did you have to be displeased with? What was he lacking that any other nobleman had? What was so bad you would run away with another man and have him made into gossip fodder? Her words fortified him, they justified his anger not as an ugly thing eating away at him but as righteous outrage. Diana was comforting him as no one had, not even your sniveling suck-up parents. She understood the value of a promise better than anyone. He held the letter up to his lips with shaking hands and he pressed a kiss to the place where her hands must have been when she pressed the ribbon into place. 

The waiting for you to be found was the hardest thing for him. Perhaps if you were not found in a decent amount of time, it would be more prudent both fiscally and emotionally, to wed Diana who was also a daughter of your house. Oh, how he reveled in that thought. His mind conjured such pretty, bloodless thoughts of marriage to Diana. It almost combatted the thoughts he had about seeing you again, the words he’d bring forth to shame you in a place where you could not do anything but accept your own fault. Your indecency, your infidelity, your selfishness. The irony of his anger and his eagerness burned no one but himself, who lay paralyzed in his own mind as he settled into the fact that if you were found, he might truly have to watch himself beat you. For something he was far more guilty of, no less. He couldn’t so much as grit his teeth to express the anguish, all he could do is call upon god, the well in the sky he poured desperate wishes into.

‘Dear god, you seek to punish me, I know. But do not punish my bride, let me go hollow from missing her, from wanting to retrieve some of the person I used to be but do not hurt her to show me your wisdom. Tear me apart as you will but do not use her to do it. Let her stay lost to me.’

The sky really must have been empty, there really must have been no god to hear him, for you were found on a rainy night and brought to his mansion. Felix was dead, slain as a matter of course. A sick delight came about as he heard the report that your new lover had been killed where he stood. He heard himself speak in a low voice that suppressed none of his malice. “Let me see her, then.” 

But his mother stopped him, assessing at him with serious eyes, sizing him up. “No. You’re too angry. You might do something to damage her.” She was right and the inner self rejoiced for the prolonged distance, for the fact that although his mother clearly considered you more product than woman, she would not have him harm you. 

He kept you like a prisoner, sequestered to some bedroom at the center of the manor, locked from the outside and served by maids who watched you carefully as their jobs would not be spared if you were to pull the same trick again on their watch. The greater part of himself did long to look into your eyes, to feel the rage inside bloom and overflow and finally, finally allow him to release it. He nursed this hate like the phantom child he had left behind.

He allowed for one visitor, the young lady betrothed to Felix, who beseeched him. He wanted you to feel as he did. This woman who’d been forced to only partly display her mourning through plain black clothing rather than the true mourning garb of one whose loss was as great as hers, was a perfect tool for it. It was to show you who your actions hurt besides him. The extent of your selfishness brought consequences for more than just him, he wanted you to know that. He could tell you himself but showing you was all the better. If you hated him so much you’d run away short of your wedding, his emotions likely meant nothing to you. So let you have the hatred of someone else you hurt, let you see what you’ve done through the tears of a woman you’ve hurt just as badly.

The day of your wedding was a humiliation, for both of you. A farce that became the den of gossips gawking at your stiff steps down the aisle. He was relieved to know that you were the target of insult but displeased to be pitied. Still, such was worth it, if only to show a woman who seemed to think she was above having loyalty to her betrothed that you were not even above being gawked at on your wedding day like a caged animal. If he had to put up with being humiliated the inevitable moment everyone found out you fled with another man, you would put up with this. He would have his pound of flesh before you were married, before he’d have to forgive you.

Still, though he wanted your pain, he was caught between that motive and the fact that it still severely angered him that you thought you had the right to pity yourself. When he saw tears in your eyes as you reached the altar, he snapped at you in a whisper. Why were you of all people crying? If anything, it should have been him. You did this, what right had you to cry about it now? In the time you were far from home, living with that knight, what had you done together? Living in the squalor among commoners, had you found some pleasure in that? He had no choice now except to marry a woman who ran about with another man short of their wedding.

Claude rejected the notion of your culpability, but that didn’t matter when the loudest voice within his mind did not belong to him. He knew he had no right to be jealous and bitter as he was, he knew it was ludicrous for him to act like you were the one to betray him as if he wasn’t always alone with your sister, coming to visit her while neglecting you. Never mind the fact that he knew what you had lost, what he had stolen from you. But what did knowing that do? All that mattered to this darkness above him was that you existed and therefore had sinned. The more he pondered this thing which plagued him, the more hopeless he understood his situation to be. This thing, this darkness, its separation from his true self only mattered to him at this point. All you could see was a cruel husband, a man who hated you, who would leave you to die alone. Did it matter if there was more to him, if all he could show you was the most hateful part of him? It might not have been his true self that tormented you for so long but…they shared one body and it was still his hands that dripped with your blood.

When he woke one morning and his consciousness had swam up to the surface of his mind, allowing him to control his own body for the first time in ages, he knew that something was wrong. He felt it in the pit of his stomach, in the quiet of his room with the faded rays of sun reaching through the curtains after a stormy night. The moment he realized he was free, he went to your room still wearing his pajamas, his hair disheveled. Each step was his own doing and yet it still felt as though the path was fated, there was nothing to be done except go to you. See what this life had made of you, pray to a god who wasn’t listening. When he opened the door, what he saw struck him so hard his vision went white.

You were hanging from the center of the room, your body was still and cold. He knew it was too late to save you but stupidly he fumbled with the sheets around your neck, trying to get your body down. Murmuring little words of comfort to ears that could not hear him. If only he could just get you down, he could save you. This time, this time, he had to save you. How foolish he was. How could he not see that such was not the way things worked for him?

Your body was not even warm when he set you down on the floor, when he put his head on your chest, he heard no heartbeat not even a weak and staggered one. Your eyes were open, unblinking and looking constantly at a point in the distance away from him. You had been dead for some time, for your body had not even been swaying from where you hung. He couldn’t feel you anymore. But he could not let go of you either, he stayed with your body until the steward was firmly pulling him away. “My lord…please leave her to us.” His head had been lain again your chest, his tears wetting your chemise for how long? He did not know. 

Even after your body was taken, he remained kneeling on the floor where he had held you. 

He was not even coherent enough to kill himself but for the state he was in, the doctor recommended he take sedatives. They made the days pass like minutes and often he was in the dark with his misery, not able to speak it, show it. Not allowed the reprieve or the punishment of a knife against his throat. He was in the dark with your body hanging in front of him. He was in the dark every day until the morning he was woken up for your funeral. That day he awoke by a caress, a warm hand against his cheek and for a confused, bleary moment, he thought it was your hand. His heavy eyelids opened and caught a glimpse of golden hair. 

He was besotted again. Diana was beautiful even in mourning garb, dressed in delicate black lace, inches away from him with tears in her eyes. “Lord Claude” Her voice wavered. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to wake up. The funeral is soon, I’ve already let you sleep as much as you can.” He couldn’t help the enormous love that came over him as he saw her trying to be strong before him. He stretched his stiff limbs around her and held her to his chest. She did not refuse his comfort, she fell apart in his arms and cried. Her face was nuzzled into his neck as he ran his hand up and down her back. Yet again, something had bloomed from the void inside. The honey of her love had sweetened everything and it was reaching inside him to claim control once more. What defense had he against her, his consolation and mercy?

The funeral service was carried out at the marquisate. A lady should be buried in her husband’s family plot after being married, after all. A marchioness is a marchioness, not even the part of him that despised you could deny as much. He’d relinquished himself to that greater instinct again, he was sure it had happened while he was in Diana’s arms. The moment his control was undone indefinitely was when remembered his love for her.

Diana cried throughout the funeral and held to his arm, looking at the coffin which cradled her sister who looked fitful as if she were having a bad dream even in death. She trembled to see her sister, young and newly married, dead. Perhaps she saw herself in the coffin next and the thought of that made Claude hold her closer. No one commented on him embracing his sister-in-law so intimately at his wife’s funeral, least of all your parents who looked more burdened than bereaved. They apologized to him for the inconvenience caused by the whole ordeal from your wedding to your death and offered to take over the planning of the funeral at some point. They apologized to him for your death. Instead of mourning you, their firstborn daughter. You, your mother’s only daughter, a loss that should have shaken her to her very core was being treated as a matter of political burden. You were no more to her than a fallen knight, a matter of replacement or compensation. A financial headache, perhaps a political one but never a mother’s heartache or confusion for a daughter who took her own life. 

What did he feel? Was it a husband’s grief? No…no, it was impossible for him to only feel a husband’s grief now. He was not just your husband, he was your killer, your jailor, your tormentor. The constant catalyst of your demise. He had not just lost a wife, he had killed one. There was never a time where he had been a husband to you, it was fitting that his grief was not that of a loving, dutiful husband.

Diana insisted upon not leaving him alone so your parents left her in his care. They didn’t flinch when she asked them and she didn’t think anything of spending so much time alone with her dead sister’s husband even though she had flirted with him so heavily while she was alive. Should she not be ashamed to ask this of him? Or did she think it was alright since she believed what everyone else did, that you didn’t love him, that you ran away to elope with your lover and killed yourself because he had been slain in the end? Nevertheless, he welcomed her.

Diana spent an entire week with him, days that comforted his hateful heart more than anything ever had. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, for she was mourning you as he was supposed to be. But it was as if they were playing pretend again, except this time they had the entire marquisate at their disposal instead of just Diana’s bedroom. When he wanted to see her, she was in the library or out in the garden or taking lunch in the guest room. Always in reach, it made him feel better. She was safe, she was healthy this time around and she was his. More than she ever had been before. Perhaps the suddenness of your death made her all the more open, made the need for comfort greater. Either way, the sweetness of her love was falling over him as warmly as summer rain.

But after that week, Diana did need to return home. For the sweet girl did not want her parents to miss her for too long. Claude insisted on accompanying her home in the carriage, under the guise of her safety but in all reality, just to spend even a few more moments with her. 

They were halfway there when the carriage started moving faster than it should have. The horses were whinnying in fright desperately racing forth, Diana’s slight frame nearly flew across the carriage before he caught her and held her. They were run off the dirt road and into the forest. Claude couldn’t understand what was happening, he only caught the glimpse of dark figures out the window before the carriage flipped over. 

He used his body to keep Diana from getting hurt the instant he felt the carriage tip. His head hit the door of the carriage hard but he seemed to be alright, there was only a little blood. “Diana?” He hadn’t the time or the wits about him to form the sentence he wished to speak, he could only call her name, frantic and panicked. “I’m alright!” Diana answered, looking up at him, still in his arms. She was trembling and fear clouded her eyes. He could hear commotion outside, fighting, the clang of swords. His heart sank at the staggered realization that they were being attacked but he was quick to action regardless of how badly his head pained him and how he couldn’t find his balance. 

Still, by the time he’d helped Diana out of the carriage, his two knights were laying on ground before several men, cloaked in black with their swords wet with blood. He pushed her behind him and gripped his own sword to hold out before him. It was at least four swords against one, there was no way for him to live but he still needed to save Diana. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t logical, that he knew in his rational mind that he had no chance, he had to wield his sword against them. They were quickly done in, Diana seized and his sword arm badly injured. Strangely, they did not seem to have any intentions of killing him which gave him hope that it was a ransom situation. Until the man who had Diana, who seized her as she tried to flee to her best bet of survival — the thick forests around them, slit her throat unceremoniously and let her body drop to the ground into the dirt. 

Claude let out a sound of unbridled anguish that startled birds from the trees. He fought against their hold wildly, turned half feral and dripping blood on them. The man who stayed back, took down the hood of his cloak revealing black hair, he seemed to be their ringleader. “Now that we have that out of the way, let me.” He stepped forward and drew his sword. Claude was still fighting, still writhing in the grips of his assailants, uttering curses at them. The stranger pulled Claude’s hair to lift his head and make him look up into his eyes. He wore a soft smile, dissonant from the situation. “Lord Claude, I hope you’d agree you’re entirely too important to be dealt with by just anybody.” 

The stranger, his eyes glittering with joy, stood back and brought his sword down over Claude's head.

author's note: Oh, Claude. Didn't anyone ever tell you the forest is full of wicked things?

Next

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl @s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire

[maryangelex]

hey hey !! I just read your recent ex husband price fic and it’s EVERYTHING , your writing is impeccable 💕

I was also wondering if i can request angst/hurt no comfort ex-husband price! Is it bad that I kinda want to see this man suffer ?? 😭

a/n: thank you so much anon!!!! and ofc you can because...i too love a man in dispair D: something about price in shambles just mmmmmmm delicious!!!

i hope you love it :D (maybe cry a lil)

c/w: afab! reader, divorce, angst, hurt no comfort, grown man crying, alcohol use, fertility issues, age gap

He should have known better than to take you for granted. He shouldn't have anticipated you'd be fully okay with his line of work and everything that came with it. He should have made more of an effort to be there for you rather than feigning ignorance about how you were feeling, how lonely you had been, how difficult it had been for you to be alone when you needed him most when every pregnancy test would come back negative, or the pregnancy wasn't viable.

Instead, he'd come home to you pretending there was nothing wrong between you two. You gave him the benefit of the doubt time and time again; this was the way he coped coming back from missions, by coming home to the 'perfect' life he had built with you. You don't know what hurt you most, the facade he put on that everything was fine and dandy and there was nothing to be resolved or the cold shoulder he gave you when it was just too much for him to put on a fake smile.

He should have taken it as his cue to drop the act and be the husband he swore to be the second you brought up divorce. And instead, he kept his mouth shut, nodded his head, and gave you a mask of understanding. Once again, being passive about your marriage because too much of his energy had been put into his work. Not only that, but he already knew how much of a failure he had been at being your husband.

He knew you were too good for him since the very beginning. He was too old for you who had just started your life. He was too busy to even begin dating you, much less marry you. He was mentally (nor physically, really) not fully there to provide for you.

So when the divorce was finalized and a year passed, it was no surprise to see you had moved on. You looked happy in the pictures with your new beau, happier than he had ever seen you leading up to the divorce; maybe since after your honeymoon. Your smile was radiant and wide, your skin glowing, and your eyes glinting with newfound hope that this other man would be the husband you really deserved. He knew you deserved better, accepted it, even.

He dwelled on the fact that he failed you at providing you the love and dedication he vowed to you at the altar. The warm feeling of whiskey had become more familiar on his lips than the feeling of your lips.

He missed you like hell, he couldn't think of anything else he wanted back more. He sobbed himself to sleep thinking about how he let you slip between his fingers and lost you, his precious wife. The thought of being with another woman made his skin crawl, feeling repulsed by it. He requested extra missions to get away from the city and the apartment you two shared, but only got himself extended leaves for his mental state.

At the two-year mark, he found himself sick of moping and grieving and decided it was about time he took action. Moving on to someone else was not an option; it was you or nothing. When he picked the pieces of himself back up and could finally stand on his feet, he made his way back to you.

He hadn't heard from you since he saw that picture of you and the new guy on your social media, but he got in contact with your mother and she willingly gave him your new address. And when he stood at your doorstep, a bouquet of tulips in hand and his best attempt at a smile, you opened the door to him and it hit him like a trainwreck.

Seeing you with an infant on your hip made his knees nearly buckle.

"John?" was all you could say, and the sound of your voice after so long made his ears ring.

John Price was a man of steel, a man with infinite courage who braved terrorists and bullets aimed at him. But the sight of you with the babe he couldn't give you, the love he couldn't fill you with, the life he swore to provide and failed to, made him lose any will to live that he had gathered in the last year.

[imogenkol]

— RELAX

pairing: Imogen Kol (oc) x Bix Caleen words: 2.3k rating: Mature warnings: nudity, intimate bathing READ IT ON AO3

summary: When tensions in the Rebellion rise, Imogen is in need of a bath.

notes: wanted to give a HUGE shoutout to my Bix Bestie @e-the-village-cryptid for introducing me to the Hard of Hearing Bix headcanon and talking me through that kind of experience so that I could portray it here. Thank you so much for your insight and reading through this for me 💕

Imogen was not a fan of briefings. The Rebellion very rarely offered information that she didn’t already know or could figure out on her own in far less time. Or they were too restrictive in their instructions, treating her and the others like hounds trained to fetch only to be rewarded with scraps. Really, what these meetings boiled down to was a group of people who each thought they were the smartest person in the room all talking over each other at once. Imogen would rather receive a lecture from her long dead master than listen to this band of fools. 

Instead, her attention drifted towards her mechanic. 

Bix didn’t seem to find much enjoyment in all the chatter either, but Imogen noted the focused tension on her face as she subtly fiddled with the device behind her ear. The hunter clenched her jaw and fought the urge to reach through the Force and silence all of the voices by blocking the airways of every senator and general within range. 

As if sensing her stare, the mechanic locked on to her gaze in the small gathering of bodies and Imogen tilted her head ever so slightly. Bix answered with a short nod in reassurance and lowered her hand, standing up straighter and crossing her arms. 

Ever the one to endure, she thought.

Once the briefing concluded, the crowd dispersed and Imogen saw Bix inhale and exhale slowly as everyone filed out of the rather cramped space. Now it was time to prepare. Imogen would have followed her, but the hangar bay was closer than their quarters, so she made way for The Huntress to ensure she was fit for travel. Besides, she thought Bix might desire a bit of peace and quiet. 

After running diagnostics on her ship and eating a quick meal, Imogen found herself back at their quarters. The mechanic sat at her makeshift workbench and tinkered with the blaster Imogen had given to her. While Imogen normally would have frowned upon any modifications to her weapon, she found herself glad that her beloved found a way to occupy her hands and trusted her judgment enough not to object. Imogen was confident in the superiority of her blaster, but if anyone could think of a way to truly improve it even more, it was Bix. 

As Imogen approached to peek over her shoulder, Bix squeezed the bridge of her nose and massaged up to her brow. 

“Does your head hurt?” Imogen asked. 

“Huh?” The mechanic frowned back at her, then quickly shook her head as her hand dropped. “No. No, I’m fine.” 

The hearing aids were still in her ears, despite being alone in her own space. Imogen decided to lightly prod at the subject. “How are those devices of yours faring?”

“Uh...” Bix muttered distractedly as she reached for various tools and dismantled blaster parts. “It’s an adjustment.”

Imogen could relate to that. Even after all this time, the metallic limb that helped keep her upright for years sometimes felt so foreign to her. She could still feel her own leg, all the way down to her toes. The first few weeks she had her cybernetic made her feel like an infant learning how to walk for the first time. She wobbled and tripped over herself. It had been humiliating, but her balance and strength eventually returned, though her stance would never be the same again. In spite of the pain, the frustration, the initial embarrassment, Imogen could hardly imagine life without her prosthetic now. 

“I know the feeling.” The room fell into silence once Bix went back to work. Imogen saw the tension in her face and body as she hunched over the workbench and set her hands on her beloved’s shoulders. As she gently massaged, Bix started to gradually relax into her touch, but still shook her off after a minute. Imogen retreated and hummed thoughtfully. “I’m in need of a bath,” she said, lingering for a reaction. 

Bix didn’t even look up. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” 

“I would not object if you wished to join me, my love.” 

The mechanic threw an inquisitive look over her shoulder, then shook her head and returned to her project. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

“Very well, then,” Imogen said with a knowing tone and disappeared into the washroom. 

When she indulged in a bath, she did it right. It was only proper. Imogen needed her body relaxed — her senses clear. She filled the tub with water hot enough to steam and collected the necessities. Oils to soothe the mind. Salts for her muscles and joints. Oats for her skin. Any other little additions she preferred to enhance the experience. The combination turned the bath water into an inviting milky-white color that she could just barely see through. 

Imogen perched on the edge of the tub and reached down to release the hidden latches on her cybernetic leg to detach it from the rest of her body. While the prosthetic could handle a surprising number of conditions to a certain degree — water, heat, cold — Imogen very sparingly removed it, and almost exclusively when she had to. Though, there were nights like these, where she simply wanted to be free of it for a short time. 

She laid the metallic limb down and maneuvered her bare body into the beckoning steam that coiled into the air and filled the washroom with a thick cloud of warm fog. The way the hot water encompassed her entire form made her release a pleased hum. She felt the coldness in her blood melt away to welcome the heat that pooled all the way into her bones. It had been too long since she indulged in a bath. Imogen shut her eyes and let all of her weight suspend in the warm water as she rested her head back on the lip of the tub. Her muscles praised her for the rare moment of pure relaxation. 

It did not take long for her to hear the door hiss open. Imogen kept her eyes closed, but she heard the gentle footfalls of a gait she knew by heart. With a quieted mind, she could feel the vibrancy of life grow brighter the closer her lover drew near — like flames in a soft wind. 

“You have decided to join me after all,” Imogen calmly noted. 

“Maybe I liked the idea,” Bix replied. 

The mechanic sat on the edge of the tub, not yet prepared to enter for whatever reason. Long moments of silence lingered in the washroom. Not uncomfortable, but anticipation still hung in the air as heavily as the steam. Imogen felt Bix’s gaze shift up and down her exposed body in the cloudy water, studying her in such a moment of vulnerability. 

“It hurts you sometimes, doesn’t it?” Bix stated gently. It took a moment for Imogen to sense her attention lingered on her partial leg. The mechanic had never seen the prosthetic detached before.  

“Sometimes,” Imogen confirmed. “Typically after I have exerted myself.” 

“Like after Ferrix?” she asked and then mirrored the nod she received in answer. “I could tell.” 

It bothered Imogen to admit it. She supposed if anyone were to take notice, it may as well be Bix, but she still scraped her teeth together briefly before she forced her jaw to slacken. “You have always been able to tell.” 

“Because you shift your weight onto your other leg. That’s not good for posture, you know.” 

Imogen opened her eyes to shoot a glare up at the other woman. “There is nothing wrong with my posture.” 

Bix smirked and playfully traced the shallow ripples on the surface of the water with the tips of her fingers. “Just making an observation.” 

“I endure when I must.” 

The mood shifted in the mechanic. Imogen saw the way her smile dropped and her brows creased with the smallest amount of tension. Bix glanced down and her jaw twitched. “Yeah.” 

“But here and now, I have no need to endure,” Imogen continued, softening her voice. The soothing sound of water droplets echoed in the washroom and she reached out of the bath to caress up Bix’s arm. She felt as warm as the water and Imogen watched drops race down her smooth skin. “Neither do you.” 

Another beat of hesitation passed before Bix finally nodded in acceptance of the earlier invitation. She rose to remove her clothing. “You never told me how you lost it.”

“I have not,” Imogen agreed, not taking her eyes off of the mechanic as more and more of her skin became bare. 

“So?” Bix urged, tossing her discarded clothing aside. “What Jedi got lucky?” 

An offended scoff bounced off of the washroom walls. “No Jedi has ever gotten the better of me. At least not enough to claim a limb.” 

“Are you gonna make me guess?”

Imogen pursed her lips and answered curtly, but truthfully. “My last Master. He wanted to make a point to me and my peers, I suppose.”

Bix stepped into the tub and made a sour face. “You don’t seem to have a lot of luck with masters.”

“More like they do not have much luck with me,” she corrected with a soft chuckle. 

“I can see why,” Bix remarked. 

Imogen tapped her ear as Bix lowered herself into the other side of the tub so that the two of them faced each other. With a flash of recognition in her eyes, the mechanic removed her hearing aids and set them on the counter within reach to not damage them in the water. She finally settled into the heat of the bath and released a heavy, content sigh. 

Imogen smiled and nudged her with her good leg. Once their eyes met, she signed “Have you been keeping up with the lessons?” 

Bix nodded. “Yes.” 

The bounty hunter raised a brow and continued in sign. “Could you repeat that?”

The next sigh out of the mechanic’s mouth was a little exasperated as she clearly wanted to simply relax, but she sat up and summoned encouragement to sign back. “I’m not deaf, you know.” 

“No. But it will benefit you to learn, darling. It will benefit us both.” 

One thing Imogen could freely admit to finding enjoyment in was language. As a padawan, she would most look forward to her language lessons at the Temple. It fascinated her to learn the various tongues that spanned the known galaxy and how they have evolved over thousands of years, though she was only fluent in a handful of them. Even now, Imogen committed herself to being as well versed in speech as she could for a variety of practical reasons. Learning how to communicate with her hands offered a unique perspective that she found as engaging to familiarize herself with as any other complex dialect. 

Bix frowned in thought for a moment, then blinked back up at Imogen. “Benefit?” She signed the word methodically with a question in her gaze. 

“Benefit,” Imogen answered verbally as she signed the word to confirm its meaning. Once Bix nodded, Imogen leaned forward and flashed a flirtatious grin. “Darling,” she signed. 

“I understood that part just fine,” Bix responded with a playful roll of her eyes and signed back with emphasis “Sweetheart.” 

“Just making sure.”

“Uh-huh,” Bix hummed with a scoff. 

“You like this, don’t you? Talking this way.”

“It’s… different. But good, yeah.” She nodded, her smile becoming soft. “I’m getting used to it.” 

“You’ve picked it up quickly,” Imogen said out loud and pulled Bix in closer by the back of her knee. 

“I’m kinda surprised you like it. I didn't think you’d have so much… fun?” Bix chuckled through the last word as if she never expected to associate it with Imogen. 

The bounty hunter felt heat rush up her neck and to her cheeks. “Do what you wish, but yes… I enjoy it.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t fun to learn,” Bix signed and then switched back to verbal speech. “It’s just funny to see you excited.” 

“You make me sound like a child.” 

“Oh, get over yourself.” Bix splashed water at her pout, which Imogen failed to dodge. 

Despite her annoyance, Imogen smiled — one of those rare genuine smiles that only her beloved mechanic had the pleasure of witnessing. 

Bix leaned against Imogen’s intact leg, wrapping an arm around her thigh and caressing at the sensitive skin absentmindedly. Imogen did not mind such candid intimate touches. In fact, they made comfortable warmth spread into her chest in much the same way as the bath water. “Cass is trying to learn, but I think he just wants to know what you and I are gossiping about.” 

“He is a fool,” Imogen signed.

Bix laughed softly. “Sometimes.” Before Imogen could repeat her statement with more emphasis, she quickly added “Okay, a lot of the time.” 

A comfortable bit of silence gently rolled over them and they enjoyed the solace of each other’s company in the pleasantly scented steam of a hot bath. 

“How is the engine running?” Imogen eventually signed. 

Their own little code. The phrase meant a few things all at once without having to say them explicitly: How are you doing? Have you recovered well? Do you need anything? Are your demons tormenting you more than usual or have they granted you reprieve? 

Bix smiled beautifully. “Right now? Like a dream.”

An improvement from the usual, Could use more work, that was for certain.

“Then let us stay in the now for a little while, shall we?” Imogen leaned forward and placed a tender kiss to her lover’s temple.

Bix did not allow her to retreat. A light shower of water droplets echoed in Imogen’s ears like rain as the mechanic cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for something deeper. Imogen surrendered to the other woman’s desire and felt her heart flutter when Bix parted her lips, lifting her up to dizzying heights. 

“I thought you’d never stop talking,” Bix murmured into her mouth. 

Like a dream, indeed, Imogen thought.

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