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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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So that anon's theory about Amren and babies made me think of a crackfic that I would love if you could do (it is however somewhat Amren centered and I'm aware you don't like writing her so you can refuse this-I completely understand)-

( I would like if this is set after your AU ACOSF cause that for me is the only Nessian story I find acceptable but again whatever you wish to do-you're the writer :) )

So basically Nessian's baby (daughter) who is now around maybe 1 years old (whatever age babies start crawling or moving and somewhat talking on their own) and has had some sort of attachment to Amren.But now that the baby is able to move around herself she's taken to trying to follow Amren everywhere.And no one is able to stop her or distract her.Maybe she even has a babbled random name for Amren as well that the whole NC finds hilarious.

So basically Amren spends a whole day hiding from the baby only to be found every single time much to her annoyance and the IC's amusement.Like she's just going around the river estate hiding from a 1 year old in random places only to be found each time.Maybe at some point she decides to leave to summer court but is again found by the baby when Nesta is also at summer to talk to Cresseida about the fund and has her daughter with her.Idk how this ends or what even happens.It's purely a crackfic idea in my mind so it doesn't have to be completely factually correct or anything.Infact I love the way you think up stuff so if you take full reigns over this idea then that's great too :)

Ofcourse I understand if you don't want to write an Amren centric fic since you don't really like her (same btw) and usually write Nesta centric fics only but it's something about her experiencing her own form of torture with having a drooling babbling baby cling to her lol.

I'm also the same person who had requested the hormonal and pregnant Nesta fic and I absolutely loved it.If you do decide to write it I think it would be interesting if this fic is a continuation of that one of some sort.Thankyou so much!

I love your works!!Infact you are the reason I joined tumblr and discovered so many other authors so really you were my gateway.I can't wait to read your original work when ( used when- because it will happen because you're obviously talented enough to get it) you get published in the future!!!

Awww that makes me so happy that you joined and found more fics. There are so many talented people on here!

I've written just a short one (1.3k) of Amren getting terrorised by baby Nessian!

The ancient one called his name over and over until her voice had grown hoarse. He cut his shower short to see why Amren was howling his name like a wounded beast. She’d been terrifying with power – now, she was just a tiny female who made lots of threats with nothing to back them up.

‘What is the problem?’

Amren stood on a chair, as far to one side as it could go without tipping. ‘It’s followed me again.’

A growl rippled from his chest. ‘My daughter is not an it.’

‘Take it – her – away.’

Phia had always had a strange fascination with Amren. As soon as she could focus her eyes on faces, they always searched the room for the female. It had taken all of them months of chipping away at her to even hold the baby – and then Nesta had needed to remove her after less than a minute because Amren panicked.

Cassian swooped down on Ophelia then whooshed her up into the air so a big, beaming smile came onto her face. It seemed that Amren had been working at the table when she’d been snuck up on. Since she learnt how to crawl, there wasn’t a room that Amren could go to for an escape. Nesta might have given her daughter a helping hand from time to time too.

‘Your daughter is terrorising Amren again.’

Nesta stretched out on the couch. There was a book beside her, but since having a baby, sleep was prioritised over any other hobby.

‘I know. I could see them.’

‘Didn’t you hear her calling?’

Nesta snorted. ‘I did. Phia was fine, just trying to pull herself up.’

‘Wait until she learns how to walk.’

Nesta grinned. ‘And how to fly.’

Poor Amren would have no peace. She had seriously asked Rhys about defecting to the Summer Court. Nyx had never been bothered with her – or she to him. Ophelia had different plans. And Nesta seemed to enjoy her torment.

Nesta scooped the baby to her chest then kissed the crop of dark hair. The wings were a welcome surprise; they were not entirely sure whether the Illyrian genes would be passed along. Cassian had already planned her flying lessons and all the places he could take his daughter once she’d learnt.

‘Can you believe we made her?’

Nesta threw him an incredulous look. ‘I was just the vessel. This is your child. Ten months inside of me to come out looking exactly like your father, you poor, sweet girl.’

‘When we have a boy, he’ll look like you.’

‘Oo, you ripped me from front to back,’ she said in a sing-song voice as she slathered the baby with kisses to make her giggle. ‘If your papa thinks I am ever letting him touch me again, he must be sillier than I thought.’

Amren stood in the doorway and shuddered.

‘Would you like to come with us to the park?’

‘I would rather spend another eternity in the Prison.’

Nesta gave her a sweet smile. ‘I shall inform Rhysand of your request.’

***

Sure enough, once Phia had learnt to walk, Amren was her go to person. Sometimes she’d even start to cry if Amren didn’t pick her up – then Amren appeared as if she might burst into tears as a result. And every time, Nesta would watch with a smirk. Cassian saw her exchanging vindictive grins with Azriel from time to time too as they delighted in Amren’s torture.

There was no escape. Ophelia had learnt how to walk and how to pull herself up to surfaces in quick succession so even if Amren was in a chair, Phia would go to her then haul herself into Amren’s lap before she had a chance to get away. Her wings were growing stronger so, soon, Amren would never be able to escape.

Sometimes she was brave enough to lift the girl back down before running away. Other times, she remained pinned to the spot, calling out for help. The only one who ran when she called was Varian. What didn’t help was how utterly obsessed Varian was with Phia either. She was happy to go to him and he’d play with her for hours, much to Amren’s torment.

‘I don’t understand what is enjoyable,’ she confessed over dinner when Ophelia had wheedled her way onto Varian’s lap and helped herself to everything on his plate.

Cassian had thought that Nesta might prickle more over Amren’s words, but she only ever shrugged them off. If their daughter was hassling Amren, it gave her a moment of space. Nesta enjoyed the peace where she could wolf down her dinner without interruption.

‘Are you telling me that cracked nipples and sleepless nights do not appeal to you?’ She asked between mouthfuls of food.

All of the males around the table winced.

Since having a child, Nesta had lost any reservations or propriety. Cassian had stopped trying to protect her modesty each time she whipped out a nipple to feed Ophelia.

‘Don’t forget cleaning shit out of her belly button when she explodes.’

Mor gagged. ‘Is this a topic for dinner?’

But Rhys had nodded with understanding at Cassian’s words. They had all been there the first time Nyx had woken screaming from a nap absolutely covered in his own filth. Feyre and him had some sort of deal where one of them could refuse entirely to be involved and Feyre slammed down her portion of the deal in record time leaving Rhys to manage it alone.

‘She’s trying to touch me,’ Amren hissed, leaning to the side to stop Ophelia from reaching her.

‘Varian, she’s going to cry if you don’t hand her to her favourite person,’ Nesta teased.

The Summer Court male panicked. He doted on that little girl and would never want to see her upset, but Amren would eat him alive. The former won out with her wobbling bottom lip – which was definitely inherited from her mother. She might have been Cassian’s double in appearance, but the personality coming through was all Nesta.

Ophelia pressed herself to Amren. Her chubby, little arms went around the female’s neck as she imitated the same noise her mother made when she hugged her. The moment ought to have been sweet, but Amren looked to be in physical pain or as if somebody had a knife pressed to her throat.

‘What does she want?’

‘Hug her back,’ Cassian suggested.

Amren blew out a breath. Then inhaled. Blew out again. Her eyes screwed shut.

'I can't.'

Azriel burst into laughter, surprising them all.

‘She looks like we’ve asked her to hug the Attor. She’s a baby, Amren.’

‘I would hug Nyx,’ she said, straining her face upwards to keep away from Phia, ‘but there’s something not right with this one.’

‘Feyre, will you swap our babies over.’

Amren’s silver eyes went wide. ‘No.’

‘I think bonding with both would be good for Amren,’ Feyre replied, carrying Nyx over.

He’d been a lovely baby. A very easy one too, content to slumber in people’s arms or sleep solidly through the night from one month. As soon as he’d hit two, a different child had emerged. Cassian was happy to admit that his nephew was horrid. Nyx quite enjoyed biting. And kicking. And hitting. And hair pulling. And the word no. Rhys had even made a joke about dropping him in Windhaven early after Nyx had thrown his bowl of soup directly at Rhys’ face.

‘Please, not him. Please, Rhysand. Rhysand. I will quit. I will leave this court and join Autumn if I have to.’

‘She’ll give up all of our secrets if confronted by an infant,’ Azriel mused, another wicked smile flitting onto his lips.

Feyre was too kind and hauled a thrashing Nyx back to his seat - but the threat was always there.

‘Phia loves you,’ Nesta crooned.

‘Amam.’

Nesta grabbed hold of Cassian’s hand. ‘She said her first word.’

‘That was not a word,’ Amren seethed.

‘She said your name,’ Varian said with pure delight.

‘My name is not Amam.’

‘If you think we are calling you anything else from now on, you’re dead wrong.’

Amren shook her head. ‘I wish I had stayed dead.’

#amren #crackfic #nessian

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aith-art · 10 months

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Character rambles

Jules / The Big MT / The Institute / DiMA

Jules interacts with both of them in very similar ways across her two timelines.

Big MT

Jules is physically and mentally changed by her time in the big mt. They lose their curly locks and eventually find themselves searching for hope and understanding the effect their actions have on people and places. Jules, in both stories, gets the peaceful, good karma ending for Big Mt and spends a lot of time going to and from it both before and after lonesome road. He finds himself returning to Big Mt after the destruction of the Institute.

The Institute

There are slight differences between timelines for how Jules interacts with the institute.

With Dana, Jules is captured by the institute close to its destruction. He's heard all the stories and seen how the actions of the institute have seriously affected the public. She realises when he's captured that the institute is never going to be 'fixable' as long as those in charge continued to believe that the synths were nothing more than robots and not basically clones that differed barely from humans. Also, as and when jules discovers that the institute is responsible for that breed of Super Mutants created through fev experiments on captured citizens, he sees what the Think Tank at Big Mt could have done to the Mojave and completely feels little mercy for the majority of the institute.

Where as in Phias timeline, Jules just has a great distaste for them from a distance. Their curiosity and affinity to technology put them on the institutes radar, but the Brotherhood destroyed the institute before she could be captured.

DiMA and Arcadia

Adding this on as it kinda links - being a group w/ advanced tech and all.

Jules is with Dana when they go to far harbour but when longfellow suggests that a group of their size (Dana, Valentine, Dogmeat, Jules, and then himself) would make for an easy target for the locals she dips out and does some side questing solo. When Dana comes back babbling about a society of synth (and Nick looking kinda uncomfortable with the discovery of him having a brother), Jules goes up with them on their next venture and meets folks at arcadia. He's fascinated by the technology and the use of memory cores to store data. Her and Faraday have multiple long conversations about technology and how to maintain and improve it. Jules eventually finds a way of linking communication to the Big Mt and Arcadia - possibly fationing a form of teleporter in the vicinity to allow for easy access between the to, allowing for technological advancements. DiMa does present the question as to weather Jules thinks they are a synth and Jules jokes that they're more machine than most gen 3s.

While with Phia Jules becomes a messenger for DiMa and Nick in Far Harbor. Arcadia is Phias little secret from the bos - one of many - and Jules helps to assist the synths that escaped the institutes destruction by helping guide them to arcadia.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #jules courier 6 #courier six #fallout nv #new vegas #self insert #fallout oc #fallout 4 #sole survivor phia #Dana the Sole Survivor

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creamecream · 2 years

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“Yo, kitty cat!”

Eloise tilted his head backwards, flicking an ear when Heath came up beside him, dashing a bit to keep up with him as Eloise hurried.

“Yeah, fireball?”

Eloise asked, righting himself and continuing to walk towards his next class. the werecat clutching his books closer to his chest. “You need something?”

Heath clicked his tongue. “Stop and pay attention to me for a moment,” Heath said, stopping to lean against one of the hallway walls, smiling when Eloise slowed to a stop slightly in front of him. “What is it?” Eloise asked, his tail flicking, slight worry showing in its movements.

“Stop worrying your pretty little head, kitty cat.” Heath puffed out a laugh, laying his hands on Eloise’s shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Just wanted to say hello!”

“Aw,” Eloise giggled, before his ear flicked back and he turned his head, looking up at the clock on the wall. “Gotta go! see you later, spitfire!” Eloise leaned in and laved his tongue across Heath’s cheek, ending on his top lip, unintentionally causing the fire elemental to release his shoulders in surprise. Heath’s hair igniting. Eloise rushed off, not noticing how Heath covered his mouth, the fire elemental stuttering and spattering, a flush painting his face.

#phia and I were talking about how I have to actually continue that thing I was doing of lycanna mad at heath for hurting eloise #and instead I just drew cute stuff of heath and eloise they bbies love them #just random drabble babble ignore me #monster high #heath burns #fan character #eloise sunbeam

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

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How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work #thank u!!

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shimmershaewrites · 6 years

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Merry and Bright *2* (a Walking Dead ficlet, Caryl AU).

*facepalm* I might have decided to make this a Christmas series. Why am I like this?

Title: Merry and Bright *2*

Rating: K for this one.

Warnings: extreme Christmas cheesiness count? Nothing other than that.

Characters/Pairings: Carol Peletier/Daryl Dixon, Sophia Peletier

Merry and Bright *2*

He’s there soon as she crosses the threshold. Big hands framing her face gently, lean body colliding with hers, and she drops the keys and the shopping bags in her hands to the floor, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as he kisses her sweet and slow like she’s been gone with the girls weeks instead of hours.

“Hey,” he rumbles when their lips finally separate.

Eyes still closed, she nuzzles his palm, relaxes her hands until they rest over the steady beat of his heart. “Hey yourself.” Her first real glimpse of him, though, her mouth twitches with suppressed laughter. “You’re covered in flour. Daryl, what on earth…”

He stops her with a thumb to her lips and a shake of his head, a sheepish expression. “’Phia and me, well. You gotta promise you won’t be mad.”

Those words are like some sort of magic switch, kicking her maternal anxiety into high gear and all sorts of nightmare scenarios start to fill her head, thanks in no small part to her overactive, wildly creative imagination. The only thing that stops her from shrugging from his embrace and searching out her little girl for herself is the comforting knowledge that there are no fire trucks or ambulances parked outside, red beams flashing among the neighborhood Christmas lights. That and not wanting to make it seem like she doesn’t trust him because God. It’s the farthest thing from the truth. They’re still new at this, the two of them becoming more than just two people that found each other and fell in love like some kind of miracle considering the hard knocks life has dealt them already. The two of them becoming three with Sophia—a family. No. She doesn’t want to do that. Besides, he’s still talking. Babbling, really. As much as a man of relatively sparse words like him can do such a thing. Thing about this beautiful man she still can’t believe she’s married to, though? He saves up his words, and when he uses them, they actually mean something.

“Gotta promise ‘cause all she wanted was to surprise you. Ain’t her fault.”

Her frown melting away with each earnest word spoken in defense of her daughter, she quietly asks, “What isn’t her fault?”

By way of explanation, Daryl ducks his head. His stubbled cheeks pinken and his lashes flutter against his cheeks as his mouth twists with embarrassment. “Ain’t her fault I got sucked into the black hole vortex of that website.”

His statement isn’t all that specific, but she has her suspicions. An inkling that fills her with amusement because the mental image is priceless and she knows her brother-in-law would have a field day with it. Not that she has any plans of telling him, but still. “What website?” she presses. “Daryl?”

“One with all them pictures and things.”

She covers her laugh with a cough, badly, and he lifts narrowed eyes to her face. “You went on Pinterest?”

“Kid wanted to make snowman cookies. Looked easy enough.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” she tells him with a little grin.

“Pfft,” he sputters. “Stop.”

Blue eyes twinkling and bright, she shrugs. “It’s true.” Snaking her arms around his neck, she wrinkles her nose. “How bad are they?”

“Murderous lookin’ suckers.” His mouth quirks in a tiny smirk. “Be watchin’ my back if I was you.”

His quiet huff of laughter is all it takes for her to lose all composure and she tucks her face in the warm crook of his neck, her own shoulders quaking with it. A little while later, she murmurs his name. “Daryl?”

He strokes a hand down her back, takes his time answering. “Yeah?”

“Why would I be mad?” He doesn’t get a chance to answer her before Sophia’s sweet, excited voice interjects.

“Mama! You’re home!”

“Yeah, Baby. I…” One look at her baby girl’s messy freckled face and tangled cloud of hair tells her all she needs to know. “Daryl?”

“Know it sounds obvious. But melted marshmallows…”

“Stick to everything?”

“Everything.”

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Carol x Daryl #Sophia Peletier #stuff that I write #more Christmas cheese #Merry and Bright #yeah...it's a little series now

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foreverlovingdaryldixon · 7 years

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Prompt: Carol and Daryl have a kid together

Anonymous said:Could you do a fic where Carol and Daryl have a kid together?

A/N: I actually really liked writing this one. I’m not a fan of writing kid fics, mostly because I never really know how to write that family sort of unit…thing.

Anyway, hope you guys like it, bit of a break from all the smut.

“She’s gone downstairs.”

“Then ya best go down after her.”

“I don’t think so Dixon, I was on bed wetting duty last night, the sun is up, she’s all yours.”

“Ours,” Daryl corrected, rolling over to nuzzle into the side of Carol’s neck, wrapping his strong arms around her waist.

Carol hummed in satisfaction as Daryl trailed his lips up to the shell of her ear, kissing softly as he tried to tempt her to let him stay in bed.

Just as he was swaying her over, his hand slipping under her boy shorts, a well timed clatter came from downstairs.

Carol wasn’t too worried, everything was child locked, the only thing in reach for Sophia being the cereals left on the worktops.

“You might wanna go see to that,” Carol grinned, smiling even more as Daryl huffed with a pout, drawing back the sheets dramatically and stretching as he stood.

“Is her majesty requestin’ breakfast in bed this mornin’?” Daryl asked with a raised brow, looking at his wife as she bit her lip through a smile with a nod.

“If you’re feeling generous that is,” she smirked, settling down onto her pillow.

“Anythin’ for you my queen,” he said sarcastically, smiling as he left the room from the sound of her soft giggle.

Padding downstairs, the scene before him didn’t surprise him one bit.

Since turning four Sophia had become rather independent, she was becoming more and more like her mother every day.

Although, being only four, meant she wasn’t quite understanding that she wasn’t supposed to do everything on her own.

Daryl sighed as he took in the spilled cereal scattered across the kitchen floor, empty box discarded with it. He followed the trail that led out of the kitchen door, all through the living room until it stopped, where a certain little lady sat cross-legged in front of the television, bowl of dry cereal in hand.

“Daddy!” Sophia beamed, spilling more cereal in her excitement as her attention was drawn away from the cartoons playing on the screen.

“‘Phia,” Daryl greeted, not being able to stop himself from smiling as she placed the bowl down, arms raised to be picked up into a hug.

Daryl scooped the small girl into his arms, chuckling as she squeezed him tightly, pulling back to smoosh his cheeks in her tiny hands.

“I made breakfast by myself daddy,” she said in an squeak, her big blue eyes excited and round.

“I can see that angel,” Daryl responded, his voice muffled by the way she was still cupping his cheeks. “But what did we say about askin’ for help?”

Sophia dropped her hands, looking down and jutting out her lower lip. “I jus’ wanted to do it myself.”

“I know ya did baby girl,” Daryl said kissing the top of her head. “But sometimes ya need yer mama or me ta help you.”

“Where’s mama?” Sophia asked suddenly, already off the topic of spilled cereal.

Daryl snorted at her swiftness to move on. “She’s in bed sweetheart.”

“Can we go wake her?” Sophia asked, mind already made up as she wiggled down from his arms. “I can give her breakfast in bed!”

She scooped the bowl of cereal up, deciding this was now for her mama instead, spilling even more as she hurried up the stairs.

“‘Phia!” Daryl groaned, the trail now also going up the stairs and across the hallway.

“Sorry daddy,” she called as Daryl trudged up the stairs after her, he’d clean that up later.

By the time Daryl got to the bedroom, Sophia was already sat on the bed, pleased to see her mother was already awake.

“I made you breakfast!” she grinned holding out the bowl to her with both hands.

“Thank you baby,” Carol said with a sleepy smile, kissing her daughter on the cheek as she smoothed her hair.

“I made it myself,” she announced proudly, her smile getting even wider as Carol picked at the cereal pieces.

“Did you now?” Carol asked, glancing to Daryl who nodded in confirmation that that was the noise from earlier.

Daryl settled on the bed the other side of Sophia as she babbled to her mother about how she was a big girl now.

“Daddy can we go to the park today?” Sophia asked, taking a handful of cereal from her mother’s ‘breakfast’.

“Sure we can angel,” Daryl said.

“Can Carl come too?” she questioned through a mouthful of food.

“I’ll ring his mom and see if she can bring him down,” Carol answered, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind Sophia’s ear.

“Okay!” Sophia beamed, jumping down from the bed running out of the door. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” she yelled, the bang of her pushing her door so hard it hit the wall making Daryl sigh.

“Ya want help?”

“No! I can do it on my own,” she called back.

“Is it bad?” Carol asked, referring to the mess downstairs.

“Only the once box,” he said, shifting so he was closer to her, pressing a kiss to her head when she let it rest against his shoulder.

“Least it wasn’t the milk this time too.”

Daryl chuckled, his fingers skimming up and down her forearm soothingly. “Nah, after droppin’ the whole thing down herself think she learnt from that one.”

#caryl #caryl prompt #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #twd #caryl fan fic #caryl fluff

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