#yes toddlers gurgle
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Max: You know Firefly, that trip was just what we all needed. I’m feeling...refreshed. It’s all thanks to you that we even went.
Gnat: Hey, don’t I get some credit for booking the place?
Max: Ohh-h! Of course you get credit! It was picturesque, like a place on a postcard. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you babe.
Firefly: Hmmmm....that’s it. You guys are definitely acting weird.
Max: We are not! Maybe you’re the weird one! Ppppppphhhhppt!
Firefly: [Snorts] I am the most normal one in this family. I can prove it--
Ant: I’m sorry to say this, but that is your family standing around out there, acting like toddlers. No offense.
???: [Gurgles]
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— FIRST STEPS
“here, here, boy.”
you stifle a laugh, “he’s not a dog, satoru.”
“fetch.” he continues, smile widening when you burst into snickers.
your baby isn’t sure what his mom is laughing at but he joins in, smacking his hands on the floor as he gurgles along happily. he stumbles a little but his eyes stay firmly fixed on the lollipop satoru is waving around in his face.
“c’mon, baby. show your mom who’s the best and your favourite parent in the world.”
you scoff, “that’s not fair. you’re bribing him.”
his eyes don’t stray from your child as he replies, “it builds character. you gotta teach them young.”
“i will never understand how he became a dad.” megumi’s voice mutters through the phone.
“well, you see megumi-chan, when a man and a woman love each very much—”
you smack away gojo’s peeping head from the camera and focus it back on your son. he claps as he says something nonsensical, to which gojo nods along encouragingly, shoving the lollipop even closer and twirling it in the air.
megumi leans in closer to the screen, watching the act of corruption unfold on facetime, “i can’t believe he’s already taking his first steps.”
you smile, “that’s the thing with kids, megumi. they grow up too fast and right under your nose, yet you never know it. it just hits you like a truck and you’ve gotta deal with it.”
“sensei seems to be doing fine though.”
“don’t let his act fool you. he whines every night about how he’s getting old and soon his son will throw him in an old age home and—”
��that was a confidential late night conversation!” he grumbles, crossing his arms as the camera faces towards him. “besides, i did well with you, didn’t i?”
you catch a glimpse of megumi’s pink face before he mumbles something about kidnapping and hangs up. a smile blooms on your lips and you rest your hand on his shoulder, “you really did well.”
“nice try but that doesn’t mean i’m gonna let you have this one.” he gestures to the toddler spinning around himself now to catch the tail on his dinosaur onesie. a strand of white hair peaks through his hood and as his blue eyes catch yours, you can’t help but be reminded of the man beside you.
his hair, your nose. his eyes, your intelligence. his lips, your words.
holding a thousand features of you and gojo, proof of your love in flesh and blood, your son stands in front you with drool dripping down his chin.
a baffled expression takes over his face at his parents and their audacity to not include him in a group hug and he babbles angrily, waddling towards you while gojo snaps about a billion pictures from all angles, competition long forgotten as he coos at his pride and joy.
a tiny pair of arms hug your legs and you lift up your son, grinning. it’s bittersweet and maybe you’re overreacting for him just ‘walking’, but you can’t help but want to capture this moment and let it stay like this forever.
of course, all good things must come to an end.
gojo rests his chin on your shoulder, pulling down his blindfold, “now that he can walk, can we go bungee jumping?”
“what? satoru, no.”
“satoru yes.”
you get interrupted by a lollipop into your mouth and gojo kidnapping your son and teleporting to god knows where.
the couch will be warm tonight.
#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#vera’s.jjk.library.✎#i got lazy at the end
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trouble waking peter up bc she’s horny… I stg he’s never been happier to be woken up
“blood, tears and fire only”? he’s gna have to add one more to the list
YES. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG.
it’s like being so hungry, you wake up with a growling stomach. knots tied and pulled, gurgling for sustenance. this is a new kind of hungry, one that has you famished. you could eat alone, or, you could invite peter to the buffet.
you start gentle, he’ll be grumpy no matter what, but maybe this time he’d catch on to your desperate touches and connect the pieces. peter looks so peaceful when he sleeps, it’s like he turns off all thoughts from the outside world.
‘peter?’ taps on his arm, they turn into delicate pokes. ‘peter? are you up?’ you’re unsure of him moving away from you means yes, he still looks asleep. ‘yes? you’re awake?’
peter breathes deep, you start to feel guilty, but not enough to let him continue his slumber. ‘pst, peter. wake up, please.’ a light shake, it does enough, your touch is shook off.
‘leave me alone.’ his blanket is tugged under his chin, its risen over your head, you bat it off, peter blissfully reaching back into dream land.
‘no, wait.’ you’re met with a heavy sigh, ‘what’s the rule, trouble?’ you trace shapes on his shoulder, like a toddler, you recite his bedtime rules. ‘blood, tears, and fire only.’
‘do we have any of those?’
you’re so… hungry you could burst into tears. but, that’s not what peter asked. ‘no.’ a satisfied nod, ‘great. i’ll talk to you when the suns up.’ the blanket is forced over your head again, you shove it off, this time you’re met with a whiny ‘hey!’
‘i think we need to add another one into the rulebook.’ peter cracks an eye open, you’re too awake for his comfort. ‘what time is it?’ you look behind you, a flash of white on your screen. ‘two.’
‘jesus, trouble. what do we need to add?’ you blank, peter’s frustration shows. ‘c’mon, quickly.’ you roll to your back, ‘i’m… horny. really, really horny.’
a total one eighty from peter, suddenly he’s wide eyes and smiles. ‘oh! okay, yeah, sure, we can add that.’ you blink your eyes and in the short second peter rolled himself over to lay above you.
'what do you want? something quick or the full shebang?' you think he might have been sending you the graphic dream because he's just as, if not more, ready as you are. peter's tugging his, your shirt off while you move your hips around to make more room for him.
'um, i mean we can have sex, sure.' peter looks up at your face, he leans back slightly, the missing blanket makes you shiver. 'you don't sound sure.'
'it's kind of selfish, so, yeah. let's have sex.' you hum when peter wraps an arm around your hip and tugs you closer to him. 'what's selfish?' it's two in the morning and you woke him up from a dead sleep, you shouldn't push him any further.
'what i want. let's just have a quickie.' you reach for his boxers, your hand stings when it's slapped away. 'ow?' peter pushes past it, 'what do you want?'
you feel shy for a moment, it feels like you're using him, you want to ditch the whole thing. you went from overtly horny to guilty in a second. 'i don't know...' peter isn't playing your games, he leans in over you.
'i'm not asking again, trouble. what do you want?' meaning, if you won't tell him, he'll override the situation and shut it down. 'okay, okay. could you... please?' it helps nothing, you just hate asking for it.
peter might not be able to fill in the blanks, but he could pick up a hint. 'could i?' your hands rest on his shoulders, he questions you and you answer by gently pushing him away, pushing him... down.
'what are you... oh, are you? that's what you want?' you pull the comforter over his head, peter fights it off, his hair falls in tufts. 'don't lock me down there, it's dark and hot.' that was the complaint? he's not upset?
'you're not mad that i woke you up just to go down on me?'
'god, no.' kisses down your neck, 'what's the rule?'
you smile, 'blood, tears, fire, and sex only.'
'that's my girl.'
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Traditional Extra II
How about another check in on these guys?
2.8k+ words
Just a little something kicking around in my brain. (I've got a bit of baby fever going on over here on these last few I know--I'll move away from babies for my next update)
You can read Traditional here
Her shyness was adorable. It was entirely too early to have this conversation. They’d only officially been dating for less than three months. But they also lived together. And worked together. He was crossing his fingers and hoping the earliness or suddenness didn’t matter.
She knocked on the door with Harry’s tea in hand. Even though she was no longer an intern, it was one way to get her little dose of Harry while at work even on the busiest of days until they could get home. She craved seeing Harry. Being near him made her instantly happy. Stealing kisses at work was one of her new favorite past times, and Harry found himself unbelievably happy about those, too. It didn’t matter that they ate dinner together, snuggled up watching TV, or fell asleep spooning. The little fifteen-minute teatime in the afternoon was enough to make her extra dizzy with love for him.
However, today she was surprised to find a little baby, sitting alone, in a round little activity seat. He babbled to himself as she entered, and she smiled immediately. “Well, hello,” she cooed. Placing Harry’s tea on his desk she smiled curiously at the little one. “Who are you?” She asked him and knelt in front of him playing. He wasn’t quite a toddler, but maybe a bit over a year old. He was simply adorable: soft wispy hair, beautiful round eyes. She was immediately in love.
She always did well with babies. Her smile was warm and maternal. In college, she spent some of her time tutoring and babysitting when people inquired. Little ones always enjoyed her gentle nature. Honestly, she was definitely one of those women who wanted a tribe of her own little cuties to follow her around one day in the future. The baby gurgled, hitting the different activities around his seat. He smiled at her, a bit of drool falling from his little perfect lips, and he reached out making a grabbing motion with one hand. She waved back at him. She held out her finger so he could grasp his squishy little hand around it. “Hi,” she giggled again. “Did you get here all by yourself?” She asked him which of course led to no response, but he enjoyed her voice and gave her a big, drooly smile in return. The door opened and in walked three people. “Oh hi,” she glanced over her shoulder as Harry closed the door behind them. “I brought your tea.”
“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “Um...”
“You have a baby,” she said. “Did I miss something?”
The two people with him smirked. “Hi, love,” the woman said. “I’m Sarah, this is Mitch. We’re Harry’s friends.”
“Oh, the ones he doesn’t pay,” she smiled.
Harry rolled his eyes. “I like her,” Mitch whispered toward him but so she could still hear.
“Your baby is very cute,” she said poking at some of the toys while the baby kept a firm grasp on her hand.
“We’ve heard so much about you,” Sarah said sweetly crouching down beside the baby and activity seat next to her. “Hi, cutie pie,” she kissed his little nose making him giggle excitedly. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Yes,” she answered immediately, almost before Sarah finished her question. The three snickered at her. Sarah lifted the baby out of the seat and held him out to the waiting girl.
“Sometimes he is fussy with new people,” Mitch warned. He usually grabbed handfuls of hair and screamed every now and again.
She nodded. “That’s okay, must be scary getting passed around a bunch of people that aren’t Mumma and Dadda, huh?” She asked the little one who still nuzzled against her neck effortlessly, not worried at all that she was a stranger. He may have been fussy sometimes, but it seemed today wouldn’t be one of those days.
“Well, he definitely likes you, hmm?” Sarah laughed rubbing his little back as she held him.
“I have a wide-open face that babies love,” she explained. “I think I look like a teddy bear.”
Harry was speechless. He wanted to introduce his other best friends to his girlfriend. He would like to say she looked nothing like a teddy bear, but instead a beautiful angel with a halo around her head. But instead, he was tongue-tied watching her with the baby. She was a natural and his heart was aching with longing. His brain started imagining her holding a little one that looked like the perfect combination of the two of them. “Harry, you’re staring,” Mitch muttered under his breath, this time so no one could hear but Harry.
Shaking his head quickly to pull him out of his daydream, he knelt beside the two women and smiled at the baby. “Mitch and Sarah were jus’ saying they wanted t’have a date night jus’ the two of them,” Harry explained. He reached out to cup the side of the baby’s face. Harry’s palm was the same width as the side of his little head. His thumb skimmed over his hair gently, brushing his ear making the baby’s eyes flutter shut. “I sort of volunteered myself t’watch him,” he explained. “We were jus’ putting his sippy cups in the fridge.”
She smiled. “Could I help watch him too, if it’s alright with you guys?” She asked Sarah and Mitch. She didn’t want to make the parents uncomfortable. Of course, they trusted Harry, but she was a stranger. It was nice to let her hold the cutie pie, but she wouldn’t expect a whole night if they didn’t want it.
“We wouldn’t leave the baby alone with just Harry,” Mitch smiled. Harry rolled his eyes at the joke. He’d been left alone with the baby plenty of times before. It happened that some of those evenings he hadn’t spent with her over the last year were spent with the baby.
“We sort of expected you two to be a package deal,” Sarah winked at her.
Harry adored the blush that painted her cheeks. She liked that—being a package deal. Harry liked it too. “Mitch and Sarah are leaving me with their car,” Harry explained.
“You going to be good for Uncle Harry?” Sarah asked the baby. He giggled reaching for him. He crawled into Harry’s embrace. Giggling and bouncing as Harry placed his feet on his lap.
“We always have a lot of fun, don’t we lad,” he murmured kissing the top of his head. “Would y’mind leaving early?” Harry asked the girl beside him.
“You’re the boss,” she reminded him, standing now while Harry stayed put on the floor with the baby. “I just follow orders. I am working on something with Niall right now. I’ll have to finish that up.”
“That’s fine. We’re not leaving for at least an hour. Some business to attend to,” Sarah smiled. “Harry is going to invest in our new music label, supposedly.”
“Oh, how lovely!” She said excitedly. “I’ll send the paperwork to you once I get back to my office,” she said for Harry’s benefit. His heart warmed over with adoration for her once more; anticipating his needs. It was quite the quality she had.
“Surprised Harry doesn’t have you in here with him,” Mitch said with the sound of delight in his voice. Harry glared at the carpet bitterly.
“He tried, but Niall beat him in an arm-wrestling contest,” she explained. “He’ll tell you—”
“The table had water on it!” He was still quite sore about it and wished Niall had given him a rematch. The whole predicament was laughable to her but still very upsetting to Harry. He wanted her around all the time.
“—his arm slipped,” she finished ignoring Harry’s interruption.
“They arm-wrestled over you?” Sarah laughed. “Harry Styles, the poor girl is not a trophy!”
Harry knew that and found himself rolling his eyes as he played with the little one to keep his mind occupied and not wallowing in pity over the fact that she was down the hall most of the time. Even though they drove in to work with one another, back home together, and of course lived in the same house. She insisted that as CEO he should have his own space. Niall liked to remind him of the time he threw the keyboard in her presence—of course he would never hurt her, but where would he put her in his office so she would be out of the line of fire when Harry became that agitated again? It was better for his simmering temper and for her safety to be down the hall.
“Unbeknownst to me,” she continued while Harry was lost in thought. “I only found out after. But I did try explaining to Harry several times that it makes more sense for me to spend some time away from him, so he doesn’t tire of me.”
Sarah and Mitch exchanged a knowing look and Mitch shook his head at her. “Oh, love, I don’t think Harry’s ever going to tire of you,” Mitch promised.
Harry was silent during their little exchange other than interrupting to defend his loss against Niall. He rolled his eyes at the wonderful girl he adored so much. His eyes stayed on his friends’ little babe. Listening to her worry about growing tired of her made his stomach knot sickly. He wouldn’t ever. He couldn’t. She was his favorite thing to wake up to in the morning and the last thing he loved to see before falling asleep. Getting to be in the same building as her and working with her was a godsend; he was so lucky to be near her so often.
If anything, Harry worried about suffocating her.
He looked up at her from the floor with a knowing little smile. His left dimple dented his cheek deeply, making her stomach flip with adoration for him. She needed to leave before she kissed him all over his pretty face. Looking like a lovesick idiot in front of his friends. People who expected her to protect their most precious angel without falling all over Harry for a few hours. “Well, just to be sure, I better get back to Niall. I’ll see you later,” she cooed.
“See you later,” Harry answered, voice oozing with love that made her knees feel weak. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she meant the baby.
*
Harry held the baby in his arms while she got another sippy cup cleaned and ready with more milk. The little one was supposed to be asleep or hopefully falling asleep any minute but seemed much too excited to play with Harry to even think about resting. Harry was bouncing him effortlessly, his arms looked delicious curled around the little one. Like he was meant to hold a baby; Harry had big strong muscles, but they looked so delicate and still protective around the small little bean. Her heart fluttered at the thought of how natural he looked.
“Mumma and Dadda will be very upset with us if you don’t go to sleep, cutie pie,” she said but the little one thought her voice was pretty. Harry found it pretty, too. He liked the way it sounded when she spoke to him. Not quite baby-talk, but not exactly how she spoke to Harry either. “They might not ever let me play with you again if we keep you up all night,” she caressed the back of his soft little baby head, the hair feathery and light, like a bird’s wing. She was in love.
Harry smirked and kissed his little forehead. “Y’got t’sleep, lad.” She took the bottle from the microwave and handed it to Harry. The little one pushed it from Harry’s hand, so it fell to the floor. At the same time, the baby reached for the sweet girl. “I know she’s pretty; I don’t want t’sleep either when she’s around,” Harry murmured. He bent to get the bottle. “But y’can’t play with her when you’re tired either,” Harry explained. Her face was warm at Harry’s description, and she snuggled the cutie up to her chest. Harry placed the bottle between his lips and his little eyes seemed to close almost instantly. “Jus’ wanted a cuddle from y’kitten, before falling asleep. Can’t say I blame him.”
She smiled and brushed her fingers across his velvety soft cheek. “He’s so cute,” she whispered. Swaying as she held him in her arms.
Harry figured they would eventually talk about kids. He wasn’t sure when exactly, but it would happen. Harry definitely didn’t think it was going to be on a Tuesday evening when she had only just moved her final belongings in two weeks prior.
Yet all he could think about was her gorgeous being glowing with a rounded tummy. He wanted it. Bad. The idea suddenly consumed him. Wanting everything that would go along with it.He wanted every one of her possible mood swings. Every morning of nausea. All the cravings she could have. He wanted everything with her and a baby that would be a perfect meld of her and himself. She could feel Harry’s mind spinning in thought. She could see it in his face. But she had no idea that Harry was imagining a gaggle of little babies following the beautiful girl around their home. Snuggling on the porch furniture while she read to them and gave them lemonade. Or playing hide and seek around the yard. He wanted her pregnant right now. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Styles?” She hummed, interrupting his thoughts.
“Promise y’won’t…get nervous or worry?” He asked. He sounded nervous. For god’s sake he never even thought about asking her about kids in over the year she knew him. How was he supposed to just spring this on her right now? She was young. She had so much time to think about kids. She didn’t need to rush. But she looked so goddamn pretty with a baby in her arms Harry couldn’t help but think she’d be even more beautiful if the baby was her own.
She looked up at him with a smirk. “Sounds worrisome,” she answered knowingly. Harry rolled his eyes.
“I…I think y’would look really pretty if y’were pregnant, love,” his voice was so quiet. Softer than a whisper. He loved the flush of her cheeks and how she seemed to drop her nose to the little one’s head so she could almost hide in his wispy hair. Her shyness was adorable. It was entirely too early to have this conversation. They’d only officially been dating for less than three months. But they also lived together. And worked together. He was crossing his fingers and hoping the earliness or suddenness didn’t matter.
“Yeah?” She responded. No clear emotion about his idea either way.
“Yeah,” he nodded in affirmation.
It wasn’t often she thought about her six-year age gap with Harry. Almost everyone permanent in her life had five or so years on her. Before everything, before she knew how the world worked, she dreamed of being married and having kids by her mid-twenties. After everything, the last six years of hardship…it was a laughable thought.
But Harry was six years older. He probably thought about having kids a lot more now than she did. Of course, she loved kids. Of course, she wanted them. She had no idea Harry wanted them too. Suddenly, she was fourteen again. Just finished reading a young adult romance novel that had her dying for an all-consuming love like the one she read about. One that made her want to be married and have kids by the time she was 25.
And she could. Harry wanted to give her everything. Harry would give her everything she ever wanted. He was able to make everything better. She could have that crazy pipe dream with him that she imagined when she was in junior high.
“I think I’d like that too,” she admitted.
The relief on his face was utterly adorable. She didn’t know what to add to her statement. “Oh, thank God,” Harry mumbled.
She giggled trying not to jostle the baby. Harry ushered her to his room where he created a little makeshift sleeping pallet on his bed for the little one using a pillowcase and blanket. A little raft on the sea of Harry’s duvet. Once the baby was down Harry wrapped her in his arms. Attaching his mouth to hers and backing them out of the room towards what used to be “her” room but was now just a guest room.
“Oh, are we starting now? I think we should wait maybe a little bit, no? At least until Sarah and Mitch come back for their child? Or you know maybe we should actually date for a year?” She asked against his lips with a cheeky smile and giggle.
“Practice makes perfect,” he murmured back and pushed until she was laid on the bed.
“Baby,” she paused his delicious kisses. It was hard. She had to keep a tight rein of control on her mind to do so.
“Hmm?” He kissed the length of her neck, following an imaginary path to the hollow of her throat, and began skimming across her collarbone.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Kitten, I love you so much.”
--
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what do you think little aduri’s first impression of avrusa and sinderion was…
"And this," says Sinderion, leaning with a grin across the shoulder-carriage bench, "is Asplenium regelliam."
The toddler on Avrusa's copious lap stares, cross-eyed and scholarly, at the sprig of green tickling her nose. Then she squishes her face with a thoughtful gurgle.
"Yes, indeed," says Sinderion with utmost solemnity, "it's named for the estimable Chivius Regelliam, whose work has proven invaluable to we who crawl through hedgerows in his wake. Very good."
"Don't listen to him, sprout," says Avrusa, raising her eyebrows. "Never crawled through a hedgerow in his life. I did all the field work." She bounces her new charge, winning a giggle, then peers with mock severity into her face. "What's A. regelliam in the vernacular?"
Little Aduri gives her a rapt look. Then she reaches up to pull Avrusa's lip.
"Ouch," says Avrusa, amused. "Nirnroot, that's right—ouch."
The shoulder-carriage jostles through the City of Gems on bright and crowded streets, bobbing around foot-traffic like a boat. It has windows. Avrusa tries not to look at them. Outside, the city brims with light and noise: the rattle of pushcarts, the sizzle of frying scrib, the shouts of the chairmen bearing them from her father's squalid palace to the rooms they've rented over the market-square. Not cheap. Nor is the chairmen's fee—but the child can't walk, Avrusa reasons, and Sinderion will be two hundred and ninety next week.
And her father, she thinks, bitter as wormwood, has willed the sprout some pocket-change.
Sinderion, replacing the nirnroot in his bottomless bag, looks sidelong at her. Then—with that awkward, punctilious insight of his—he takes her hand.
"I'm all right," Avrusa rasps, then clears her throat. "Will be." She shakes her head, struck with amazed grief—how suddenly it comes and goes, like the gusts of ash that had once rolled through Ald'ruhn. "He used to keep such a clean house. More than clean."
Her mentor's hands had been lively, once: scribbling notes, sketching lectures in the air, flicking her fingers when she held a pestle wrong. Now they tremble with the simple strain of squeezing her hand. "Orderly?"
"Yes." She looks with bewilderment at the toddler—her half-sister, for gods' sake, two hundred years younger than herself. "And he—n'chow, Sinderion, he was older than you. I just don't understand—"
The shoulder-carriage bucks. Avrusa finds herself doing several things at once: clutching the toddler to her chest, cursing, kicking out a leg to keep Sinderion's bag from flying into him. It crunches. The ungrateful old twig cries out and swats her knee. "You harridan, my retort!"
"Bother your retort—"
"My flasks!"
"Were you planning to brew elixirs," demands Avrusa, righting herself, "here in the sedan—"
Aduri giggles again. Sinderion's grin reappears, as it always does, like an ancient light sputtering on. "Funny, are we?"
Avrusa sets the squirming toddler on her knee. The sprout is scrawny, she thinks with a frown. She smells sour, milky; she'd screamed and kicked the maid who, an hour or so ago, had shoved her at Avrusa with a desperate smile. Avrusa had understood them both. Part of her, she thinks, had wanted to kick something, too—had wanted it ever since she set out, across countless leagues and second-guesses, to fetch home a child she hadn't known existed—
The toddler puts her hand in her mouth. "Bah."
"That's right," says Sinderion, the old cellar-dweller. "Species Plantarum is our art's most inviolable text."
Their new pupil takes her hand from her mouth, studies it academically, then puts it back. Something in Avrusa's chest moves.
"Excelsior," she says gruffly, and tickles her sister's skinny ribs. "I'll read you some."
Aduri laughs. The sound is bright and sweet as a nirnroot's chime.
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See you later
MW3 spoilers read at your own risk!!!!!
Warnings: Heavy Angst, possible military inaccuracies, mwIII spoilers, spoilers, no comfort, They have a son, mitski is the recommended artist to listen to when reading this which should be warning enough.
This is pretty short but I wanted to write something.
Another warning for spoilers just in case you missed the first 3.
"Just another job bonnie and then a’ll be back with ye and the wee one, yeah?" Johnny looked into your eyes, his heart aching at the pain he caused you from leaving.
"You promise?" Your voice shaky as your hands grip his shirt tightly.
Johnny's hands cupped your cheeks gently, wiping away any tears that escaped past your waterline.
He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. "Promise."
Despite his promise the night before, the tears wouldn't stop when it was finally time for him to go. Your toddler son gurgling absentmindedly, unknowing to why his mother was so tearful.
Standing by the door with your husband's coat in hand, you watch him say his goodbyes to his child.
The sight of him making silly animal noises while playing with the 2-year-old that already looked so much like him, making it hard to keep it together.
It was harder every time he left.
When the boy got tired of playing farm, he crawled off towards his blocks, leaving his father to play on his own.
Johnny lets out a chuckle before standing up and making his way over to you.
A lighthearted smile planted on his handsome face.
“Yer so, so gorgeous, Bonnie," he says, grabbing your hand, pulling you towards him.
You automatically wrap your arms around him, your damp face wetting the front of his shirt.
Johnny's arm comes around your waist while his other hand smooths over the nape of your neck.
"Am gunna miss ye so fuckin' much," he sighs, holding you tighter.
You feel yourself relax in his hold, but the moment is swiftly ruined by the beep of his watch.
"I really don't want you to go," you mutter, knowing that he had no choice in the matter.
"A ken," Johnny says, kissing the top of your head. "Am gunna be late." He finally pulls away, taking his jacket from your hand.
"Goodbye, Johnny, we'll be waiting," you say, already missing his embrace. "No' goodbye, a'll see ye later," Johnny gives you a last kiss before leaving.
If only it was "see you later."
Weeks later, you find yourself crumbling to the ground when a flag is presented to you.
The uniformed man at your door wasn't even audible past your cries.
There was a deep sickness you felt in your stomach, a nausea that bubbled in the back of your throat.
Feeling a hand on your back rubbing soothing circles, you felt yourself calm down. "I'm sorry for your loss…" his voice was soft and held a guilty undertone.
Nothing could have ever prepared you for the agony that was burning through your chest. You'd assume it was akin to a burning knife being pressed into your heart.
Your sadness never turned to anger.
There were never the 5 stages of grief.
It was just hurt, hurt everywhere.
A/N:
I actually cried for hours after playing the campaign.
COD is literally so shit and they literally made a horrible campaign Johnnys death aside.
Nothing made after MWII is canon for me I literally don’t fucking care.
What they did was not good for the story regardl of if it’s a remake.
They aren’t even following the original so them following ever characters death doesn’t matter.
I’m just pissed that they really just gave us bullshit with a shock factor death to take the fucking cake for worst game campaign ever.
Anyways I hoped you all enjoyed I’ll be writing fluff later on to compensate for this.
And if konigsblog is reading thank you for your post about writing a Scottish accent cause it really helped when I was writing this.
#call of duty#fanfic#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#cod angst#soap mw2#call of duty angst#call of duty 3#cod mwiii#cod mwiii spoilers#soap cod#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x you#soap mactavish#soap mactavish angst#john price cod#john price call of duty#angst fic#angst no comfort#angst no happy ending#sad fanfiction#Spotify
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[for the @calaisreno May Promptosaurus Rex; cw for toddler stuff, eg 💩 & 🤮]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) 19: weather
'A-ha! We did it!' John says, possibly too chuffed as he holds up a freshly changed and dressed Rosie. 'We--'
She makes a very distinctive face, then grunts. John eyes her. 'Tell me that face doesn't mean what I think it means.'
Then he does the sniff test, and yes. Yes, it does mean that.
He lays her down yet again, fond exasperation tugging at his lips. 'Wee girl, why do you do this to me?' His mum has used the endearment on Harry their whole lives, so it's comfortable on his tongue as he reaches for wipes and a new nappy -- only to discover the stashes depleted. As in… nill.
John rolls several expletives around on his tongue. But then Rosie giggle-gurgles up at him, and he swoops in to expel his breath instead on her cheek in the form of a huge raspberry. He almost doesn't hear the knock on the door.
He pauses, but then shrugs and picks her up. 'Sorry, sweetheart. Let's go see who's at the door, yeah?'
She is notably non-nonplussed. 'Livery?'
'Might be,' John replies as he reaches the building door and opens it. 'And it is!' His daughter claps and immediately reaches out for the spotty young man trying to wrestle a rather large box. 'Whoa, there.' John reins her back in; she wants to be friends with everyone, which is both endearing and alarming.
'Do I need to sign?' he says to the carrier, who, now that John's looking, isn't wearing any sort of uniform. He looks like a dishboy haphazardly and temporarily promoted.
'No, sir. I'm to bring it up to the flat.'
A seed of a thought germinates in John's head. 'That was your instruction?'
The lad nods, clearly trying not to show his impatience. John holds back a sigh, and opens the door wider to let him pass. 'By all means.'
And it's as John expected: Wipes, diaper rash cream, and nappies. They're even--though he really shouldn't be surprised--the correct size.
As soon as Rosie's changed (again), he's got his phone out.
'I trust the delivery made it in time?' Mycroft answers.
John spares them both the niceties. 'How?'
'Nothing untoward, I assure you. Sherlock texted me.'
'Right. And where is he?' They may have an… evolving relationship, but Sherlock is still Sherlock, and John can also admit he only vaguely remembers what the detective had said when he'd left earlier in the day.
'I believe the words "spleen" and "unidentified poison" are involved.'
'Excellent. Listen.' He clears his throat. 'I'll pay you back.'
'My mother would call that "vulgar," as you know.'
'And she's a lovely woman, but--'
'Discuss it with Sherlock, please. I've got work and must get back to it.'
He rings off. John stares at his phone.
Death by Holmes. That's it. That will be how his life ends.
---
Rosie has broken the laws of physics and/or cloned herself. She has. She must have.
That's the only explanation for the sheer reach of mess he finds waiting for him after his clinic hours the next day. 'Bloody hell,' he breathes, standing in the flat's doorway and taking it in.
It's more than the usual whirlwind that happens when Sherlock's between cases and takes Rosie for the day - He claims loftily that he's putting her through intellectual paces, but really he just indulges her every whim, including her lack of enthusiasm for cleaning up. And it's not as if the flat was shining and organised to begin with.
John doesn't even have the bandwidth to log all the bits of chaos surrounding him. For heaven's sake, he hadn't even known they owned bubble solution. But, then again, they don't now, judging by the rather large soapy stain on the rug in front of the window, and the family of tipped-over empty bottles next to it.
'John!' he hears from Sherlock's bedroom. 'Come join us!'
He rolls his eyes, but goes anyway. The noises make it clear as to what they're doing, and John hangs his head before pushing open the door. He'd been hoping to at least have one nice mattress in the flat for a bit longer.
But no, currently Sherlock is holding onto an absolutely delighted toddler while, obviously, jumping up and down on the bed like he's seven. Actually, John fleetingly wonders if Sherlock even got to do such things when he was seven--
'Come on, John!'
--and the unabashed joy in Sherlock's eyes tells him his answer. With that, the resistance whooshes out of him. He toes off his shoes and joins them.
'We're testing the durability,' Sherlock explains, loudly, then swoops Rosie like an aeroplane.
John laughs, huffs of air as he jumps and watches his daughter. She seems to be enjoying herself, except-- 'I think she might--' He stops, reaches out. 'Sherlock, she's going to v--'
With a small noise of surprise, Rosie is, indeed, sick. The remnants of whatever they'd had for tea form a lovely puddle on Sherlock's expensive sheets.
The grown-ups both manage to avoid it, scrambling backwards and into each other, somehow. John, lungs tight, reaches for his daughter, not caring that she's got sick all down her front. 'My girl,' he says, going for soothing, knowing her reaction could go either way. 'Did that surprise you?'
Rosie, wide-eyed, lets out a small hiccough. Then her face crumples, and she starts to sob.
'Oh dear,' Sherlock says faintly.
John, because he's a bastard, feels laughter start to bubble up in his lungs.
Then he hears Sherlock repressing chuckles next to him, and the floodgates are open, them laughing together like errant schoolboys.
'We musn't giggle near an ill child!' Sherlock admonishes, but it works no better than it had the week they met. John bumps Sherlock's shoulder and curls Rosie into his chest, rubbing her back and putting his lips to her forehead in between breaths. She's not feverish, she just likely got swooped about like an aeroplane too soon after tea, so John relaxes and lets himself go, laughing like an idiot in dirty sheets with a dirty baby and a spotless Sherlock (somehow, the bastard).
Then there's a knock at the door. The door of the flat, not the ground floor.
He and Sherlock exchange glances, no longer laughing; even Rosie has geared down from wailing to whimpering. John shrugs.
'Come in,' Sherlock says, loudly, because of course he does; he doesn't give a toss what people think of his cleaning habits. 'We're in the master bedroom.'
A formidable grey-haired woman with a tight chignon and very no-nonsense shoes appears in the bedroom doorway. She takes in the situation, and then she tuts. Actually tuts, in a distinctly Edwardian way that John hasn't heard since his grandmother passed. 'Just as Mr Holmes suspected.'
Sherlock purses his lips. 'Mycroft sent you?'
'He certainly did. Now, out of those clothes and into the bath, please, all three of you.'
Sherlock opens his mouth to protest but the Look she gives him has him shutting it with a snap.
John would laugh if he had the fortitude. 'Beg pardon, ma'am, but he sent you because…?'
'Because you lot are a mess, a fact of which you seem to be unaware.'
John and Sherlock exchange another look. 'Fine,' Sherlock says curtly. 'But could you be so kind as to leave the room while we undress?'
'Certainly.' She gives a short nod, then turns on her heel and exits down the hall.
'Hang on,' John whispers loudly as they start to unbutton and unzip. 'Mycroft sent us a nanny?'
'I'm relatively certain she's his housekeeper, and just on loan for this evening.'
'I guess I should be surprised.'
'No, you shouldn't, as you're not entirely without wits.'
'Such flattery.'
'Dull.'
'It's almost sweet of your brother, really.'
Sherlock points a finger at him. 'Don't you dare.'
John's lips quirk. 'Don't worry, I won't send him a fruit basket or anything. I just-- I appreciate that he indulges a child he hardly knows, that's of no relation to him.'
Sherlock clears his throat. 'Yes, well, be that as it may, I say we take full advantage.' He pulls the now-naked toddler out of John's hands and heads towards the loo.
John watches them go, feeling quite swirled around by the last half an hour's events. But then he shakes his head at himself and his navel-gazing, and follows them.
---
John's phone buzzes while he's at work the next day, and he doesn't pay it much mind until he sees it's the day nursery. After he reads the message and is able to breathe again-- Jesus, being a father is not for the weak, is it-- he thumbs one to Sherlock.
Did you get the updated pickup address from the minder? Trip to park rained out.
He doesn't get a reply, not right away or in the next few hours.
This could, of course, mean a few things. John firmly puts away the worst case scenario, and reckons a case has taken priority, seeing as Sherlock knew John was available for pickup if necessary.
So, needless to say, he's surprised when he arrives at the given address. One, because Sherlock is there waiting. And two, because it's…
John stares.
'John,' Sherlock says after a moment. 'I'm afraid my brother has outdone himself.'
'Yes, well.' He coughs. 'I'm afraid he's turned an indoor football pitch into a Disneyland for toddlers.'
'As I said.'
'Jesus Christ.' He wonders how long Mycroft's been planning this. 'Wait-- Was this just because of the rain today?'
'Knowing Mycroft? Yes. Is that not a proportional response?'
John can hear the amusement in Sherlock's voice. 'Definitely not,' he replies, but his cheeks hurt from repressing a smile. 'Hang on,' he says. 'Why are you here? You didn't return my texts, I figured you were in the middle of a corpse or something.'
'Mycroft told me to stay put.'
John snorts. 'Didn't you think he might be using trick psychology to get you here?'
Sherlock scoffs. 'Soft science, that.'
'Sure.'
'Daddy! Sherlock!' John looks away from Sherlock at that particular mispronunciation of his flatmate's name, and is barreled into by a clumsy sparkly dervish.
'What--' He automatically reaches down to pick her up, then does a double take at the elaborate butterfly painted onto nearly her whole face. It's basically a work of art, honestly, and he has no idea how someone got her to sit still for that long.
'They are hired for speed,' Sherlock says to him, and he laughs, still impressed after all these years.
'Incredible.'
Sherlock glances at him. 'Whether you mean the artwork or my deducing your question about the artist, you are correct.'
John ignores him and listens to his daughter chatter enthusiastically. The words "bouncy castle" and, somehow, "golf" filter out of it, and John chuckles.
Then he hears her say something that makes him double-take. 'Pardon? Say that once more, sweetheart.'
'Uncle Mycroft!' she repeats. Or at least, most of those letters. Enough to confirm.
John's jaw clenches. 'Did he tell you to call him that?'
She nods enthusiastically. 'He's fun!'
This jars John from his confused dismay, and he hears Sherlock snort, too. 'I suppose he can be, in his own way.'
'Don't lie to your daughter, John.'
John tries not to laugh, and nearly succeeds.
You're going to have a hard time topping this for her next birthday, he writes to Mycroft. He doesn't get a reply, but he supposes that's fair.
They get halfway through the relatively short walk home. Halfway. Before the heavens open up, changing from an aggressive mist to actual splotchy rain.
John swallows a curse, ducking under an awning and already anticipating Rosie wailing about prematurely losing her face art, about being cold and wet and out of doors.
But when he looks at them, at Sherlock swinging his daughter down from where she'd been perched on his shoulders, he sees nothing but joy on her face.
Joy, and wet streaks of glittery violet paint. She's clinging to Sherlock's hands, and Sherlock looks -- Well, he looks really bloody happy, if John had to label it. But he hesitates in doing so, and resigns himself to just enjoying the moment.
'What,' he says once he's recovered his voice, 'Mycroft can't have a drone deliver us an umbrella?'
Sherlock chuckles, then sobers. 'He does adore her, you know.'
John looks at Sherlock, not quite hiding his surprise. 'And you're alright with that? With "Uncle Mycroft"?'
Sherlock's eyes flash with something, but John isn't quick enough to categorise it. 'A child should have a variety of influences in their life.'
'True, but--'
'And an expanded support structure they can rely on. I daresay Mycroft qualifies, don't you?'
John nods shortly, finding himself unable to form useful words.
Luckily, Sherlock does it for him. He sweeps Rosie back up into his arms and boops her nose, which makes John's eyes cross with cognitive dissonance but there it is all the same. 'Shall we continue walking and enjoying the rain?' the detective asks Rosie. 'And then have a nice bath and some tea? I'm sure your father will make up a fire, too.'
John swallows. 'Sure, yeah.'
Heart warm enough to hurt, he follows them out from under the cover and into the storm.
Time's too short, he reckons, to fuss about dreary weather.
[ <3 ]
[inspiration: Richard Shindell's 'The Weather'. Also consulted bubbleinc.co.uk, obviously.]
#it's gonna be MAY 2024#May Prompts 2024#MayPrompts2024#Johnlock#Parentlock#BBC Sherlock#This is just meandering Parentlock folks
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How about an Archie x M! Reader where they are parents? Preferably to a son who is a toddler and he says his first word like calling Archie ‘dada’ and his and M! Readers hearts just melt. Basically really cute family fluff!
Archie came into the house to find Y/N sitting on the couch as he watched Fred play innocently with his blocks on the living room carpet. He smiled and chuckled lightly as he made his presence known.
"And how are my two favorite guys doing?"
Y/N turned to him and smiled. "Hey, you."
"Hey, yourself." He leaned down and kissed Y/N's lips.
They were that sickly sweet young married couple who were childhood sweethearts in school. Now, they had a baby boy named after Archie's late father, and things couldn't be better. Except maybe sex, if Fred didn't insist on sleeping between them every night.
Archie pulled back and grinned. "The Archies are a success."
"What? Arch, that's fantastic." He had been trying to get his band's name out there for a while now, and it was finally happening. Y/N hugged his husband. "When do you guys play?"
"A week from today. It's going to be big."
They were so caught up in the excitement, that they didn't see Fred walking towards Archie and tugging on his pants. "Dada?" Archie looks at him in shock and so does Y/N, before Archie speaks. "Did he just say what I think he just said?"
Y/N nods. "Yes, and I didn't even get my camera to capture this moment. Say it again, champ. Say 'dada' for your dads."
Fred coos and gurgles. "Dada?"
Archie grinned and lifted Fred into the air as Y/N took a picture with his phone. "Atta boy!"
#x male reader#male reader insert#male x male#riverdale#two dads#archie andrews#archie comics#archie andrews x male reader#kj apa#kj apa x male reader#family fluff#so cute
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https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/726909400651104256/i-just-want-people-to-do-a-2-second-glance-at-a
It's funny that people ended up having the idea that Keith the 30yo stoner apparently talks with a very deep vocabulary, but actually my point was about having small kids talking like they're gurgling pigeons.
Though yes, having a 2yo toddler talking like a 55yo Aristocrat who finished cum laud at the Eton academy and took over his father's noble title is also annoying.
--
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Clark Kent (Smallville) Short Story - Chapter 3
“Open your eyes.”
“No, I'm going to die!!”
“Quit being dramatic.”
“I’m not, you’re actually trying to kill me!! I see right through you Kent!!”
Jonathan laughs from below. He seems used to the antics.
When you told Clark about your fear of heights, he said he would be happy to help you get over it. Being the gullible person you were, you accepted it because you assumed you would be starting off somewhere manageable.
Like one story inside a building.
But no.
Clark had told you that it was a surprise. It’s only when he sped out to the freaking windmill that you realize how screwed you were.
“I’ll be in the barn working on the tractor if you need me.” Jonathan calls.
“No Mr. Kent, don't leave me!!”
Your eyes were still tightly shut, so you didn’t see the older man wave as he walked away.
“I swear when we’re on solid ground again I’m going to murder you Clark.”
“Indestructible, remember.”
“Curse you!!”
Through all your complaints, you were still clutching onto his jacket for dear life.
“Open your eyes, I promise you it’s not as scary as you think.”
“That’s easy to say when your body is unbreakable. Us humans have to worry about things like going splat!”
You wave a hand around angrily, and Clark takes your hand softly.
Lowering it.
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve got you.”
Maybe it was the tenderness of his voice that had you convinced. You know Clark would never do anything to hurt you. But fear was rarely ever rational.
Clark gave your hand a little squeeze, and you very cautiously began to open your eyes. Just looking down, you could feel yourself become dizzy. Clark placed his hands on your shoulders, and it felt a little easier. You swallowed, taking in the view from above. The calming feel of the wind on your cheeks was actually not that horrible. The sun seemed just about ready to set, and the glow that shone was beautiful. Slowly but surely, your grip loosened. Clark smiled when that look of fear began to change to awe.
“It’s incredible…”
“I told you.”
“Don’t get cocky. I’m still mad at you. This is extreme. Now I’m ten times more terrified of heights.”
“What! But you just said it was incredible.”
“The view is, not my crippling fear. I was this close to peeing my pants. Now that we’ve established that you’re terrible at helping with fears and phobias, I’d like to get down before I puke out my organs.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“GET ME DOWN!!”
“Okay okay.”
Yes, your adventures with Clark Kent were anything if not invigorating.
It’s strangely nice. Your friendship with Clark is different from others that you’ve had. Then again, you can’t really say you have a lot of alien friends. But it isn’t just that. You feel as though you can tell him anything. Maybe it’s because he’s told you just about everything.
Most of your after school meetings are you asking him questions as you both do homework.
“Can you sneeze tornadoes?”
He makes a face.
‘Really, tornadoes.”
“It’s not a dumb question.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I beg to differ.” You mock.
Clark gives your shoulder a playful shove and you roll onto the floor dramatically.
“I’ve been attacked by a superhuman. Someone help.”
You make playful gurgling noises as you stick your tongue out and turn your head, pretending to be unconscious. Clark just rolls his eyes.
“It’s a good thing you’re into teaching because your acting is terrible.”
“Hey! I will have you know I played a very convincing willow tree when I was a toddler.”
“I bet.”
You giggle, moving back to take a seat next to Clark as you continue your studies.
When you begin working quietly, Clark can’t help but glance at you. He always thought that nothing good would come of other people finding out about him. It’s true that you were scared at the beginning, and he understood. Yet here you are, sitting together like you’ve known each other for decades.
“Hey, do you know how to solve this one? It doesn't make sen..”
You’d turn to ask him that question, but he’s already looking your way.
Clark swallows, and his gaze makes you a bit nervous.
“Is everything..okay?” You question.
He nods.
“Yeah. Everything is fine. Which question is it?”
You point to it, and Clark goes through the equation. You’d like to say you were listening, but that moment had you a bit distracted.
The week carries on as usual and you decide to shake off the awkward moment. Clark seems normal, so you don’t think much of it.
Walking into the Talon, you aren’t even surprised to see Chloe and Clark bickering. Lana brings them their drink and it seems she’s gotten caught in the crossfire. You smile.
“What’s the big argument about?”
“Clark here thinks serenading someone is overrated.”
You gasp.
“Chivalry really is dead.”
“That’s what I said!” Chloe defends. You take a seat and Lana smiles.
“I’d be a little embarrassed if someone did that for me in public. But in private, I think I’d like it.” Lana confesses.
You nod.
“I guess I’d feel the same. I always loved watching those cheesy movies where the lead tries to win the girl over with a song. It’s kind of cute.”
Clark looks a bit more attentive. He looks about ready to question further, but you’re interrupted.
“Room for one more?”
It’s Lex.
“Of course, Lex.” Clark replies.
“Can I get you something?”Lana asks. He nods, and Lana moves over to take his order. You don’t miss the way Chloe’s eyes seemed trained on him. Even as he leaves.
“He’s handsome right?” You whisper to her.
She nods.
“So handsome.” She gushes.
“I’m right here.” Clark grumbles. She brushes it off, and you send him a smile.
The atmosphere, these people, it’s nice. There hasn’t been a dull day since you met Clark.
Although your first meeting wasn’t under the best circumstances, you're weirdly grateful.
#clark kent#smallville#powers#friends#lanalang#chloe sullivan#lex luthor#trust#humor#clarkxreader#feelings#cute
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Seokjin mpreg where it's his second pregnancy and he gets morning sickness when his husband yoongi is abroad for business and he finds it difficult to handle a toddler and his morning sickness simultaneously
But yoongi comes back home as soon as he gets a distressed phone call from his toddler
— No, Don't Make Us Apart —
tw : mpreg
Seokjin sniffles as he opened the bathroom door. His right hand craddling his little bump carefully, as he could still feel the contents in his stomach swirls. "Throw up again?", Yoongi peered at him from the couch, opened his arms when Seokjin plopped beside him.
"Mhm", he hummed tiredly, "Your baby hates everything"
Yoongi chuckled, "I bet our little nugget here is a boy", he murmurs, tucking Seokjin's damp hair behind his ear, "Looking at how they knock you off like this"
Seokjin groans, "This is so tiring", he mumbles as he nuzzled further to Yoongi's chest, "Even Aera did not make me feel this horrible", he peel himself away, glancing sternly at his boyfriend that returned the gaze with a confused one, "And you still dare to leave me!", he pouts, pinching Yoongi's side.
"Ah!", Yoongi yelps, "Hyung! i only leave for 3 days!", he grunts, "And you were the one who said yes!"
"You really have the heart to leave your pregnant boyfriend alone ... even your daughter !! alone !!", Seokjin dramatically whines, "What kind of a man you are, Yoongichi"
Seokjin chuckles when Yoongi cupped his cheeks, "You're so dramatic, Jinnie"
***
"You sure you want me to go? I still can cancel all of this, you know?", Yoongi looked up at the older that resting on the bed, watching Yoongi pack with clothes scattered all over the floor. Seokjin tilts his head, "What are you saying? of course you should go?"
Yoongi stands up, sitting on the edge of the bed, "But .. how about you? You were not feeling well, morning sickness and all, and i know it will be hard to take care of Aera as well", he mumbles, looking down at his palms as he fiddles with it. His lips unconciously forming a pout—thing that Seokjin finds endearing without Yoongi knowing.
Seokjin smiles fondly, booping his lips, and Yoongi gapes, then chuckles when he realized that he was pouting so hard. "Earlier i was just joking, Yoongichi"
"I know but—"
"No", Seokjin shakes his head, "You will go, and i, also Aera, will be fine here, okay? It's only for few days, i can manage", he shrugs, shifting to be more comfortable, "Now hurry your packing so you can cuddle us"
Yoongi frowns, "Us?"
"Me", Seokjin points at himself, "And .. this", he points at his bump, "Us"
Yoongi scoffs—endeared.
***
Seokjin jolts forward. His bump pressing the white toilet as it caved—pushing mouthful of murky liquid out of his lips. Seokjin coughs, before it morphed into another round of gag, and bring more of his breakfast he just ate not longer than 20 minutes up.
"Ah ..", he moans quietly. His ears ringing—both from adrenaline that pumped his heart, and from his daughter that currently banging the bathroom door. "Papa!!"
"Papa!", she yells, banging the door with her little fist, "Papaaa!!", she screams louder.
"Aera ..", Seokjin rasps tiredly, "Aera .. baby .. what is it ...", he calls once again, tired—even though he knows it's a futile attempt as his voice drowned with Aera's wailing.
By the time his fit has tappered down into dry heaving, and he managed to lift himself up, Aera already sit sprawled on the floor—cheeks flushed and blotchy. Her doe eyes disappeared with tears.
Seokjin shut his eyes—feeling annoyance bubbling up to his chest. But he didn't get to do anything to calm down his daughter as more sick gurgled up his throat. He squeezed his eyes harder, as the next heave rocked him forward. Then it continues, like someone has push a button on him—as his stomach squeeze, each wave made tears leak onto his cheeks, and burned his throat more.
Seokjin sighs, scooping her up, "What's wrong, baby?"
***
Today is a bad day for Aera—that was what Seokjin realizes, as he fights the urge to : throw up, screams, and cry. Either one of those three might become his breaking points.
Aera has been make a lot... very lots of fuss .. today. She's being hard on him, and his morning sickness being equally bad doesn't help at the slightest.
"Baby .. come on, one more?", he coos, holding the spoon high near her lips to get her eat the last spoon of her lunch. Aera pouts, shaking her head, "Nooo", she whines, "Full, Papa !"
Seokjin sighs, "Last one, Aera .. after that you can—"
"Noo!", she refuses once again, shaking her head—along with her body now, as tears brimmed in her eyes. And before Seokjin can do anything, Aera hand's swipes the bowl he hold, causing rice and it's soups splatters all over the couch.
and Aera cries.
Seokjin shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath—willing the tears and frustation that welled up in his entire body to calm down.
He wants Yoongi.
***
He swallows the lump in his throat, wiping his eyes furiously before reaching for wet wipes, quietly cleaned up the mess and attend his wailing daughter.
"What's wrong with you? Why are you being so hard today", Seokjin mumbles, sitting on the edge of Aera's bed as he wipes the dry-streak of tears from her chubby cheeks after he managed to lulled her to sleep—too tired from the tantrums she throws today.
"Wow .. you look rough, baby", Yoongi grins from the screen once the call connected. Seokjin rolls his eyes, jutted his lips in annoyance, "Shut up"
Seokjin heard Yoongi chuckles. His heart twist.
"What's wrong?"
"Jinnie .. hey ..", Yoongi calls, frowning as he sees the older phone shakes, and he barely can see him. Only soft hiccups could be heard. "Jinnie .. are you okay?", he calls again.
And Yoongi's soft voices is what breaks him. He looks down—his dinner looks blurry through his eyes. "Aera ... has been throwing tantrum", he explains, voice cracking.
"She is? Why? Is she sick?"
"I don't know!", Seokjin almost scream, frustrated. All the pent up emotion he held back today filling his senses. He gasps after realizing his outburst, before ducked his head further—hiding it in his arms.
"When .. are you going home?", Seokjin mumbles, wiping his cheeks, as hiccups interrupting his words after few minutes of quiet cries. He picks up his phone again, biting his lips when the sight of his boyfriend makes him want to wail again.
"2 days again?", Yoongi answers, unsure if he gives a good answer or not. He doesn't want to upset Seokjin more. "I only left for a day, love.."
"Why so long ..", Seokjin sighs.
"You were the one that agr—"
"I know!", Seokjin huffs. He moves his fork to play with his food. His appetite is long gone, "But still ...", he trails off, "Whatever, just come home soon. Finish your works as soon as possible!"
Yoongi chuckles, "I will, love .. and now, you also need to eat those dinner you have been ignore this whole time. Don't think i dont see it, Seokjin"
Seokjin's lips curl into a small smile, taking a bite, while listening to Yoongi's anecdotes of his days.
"You're done?", Yoongi asks when he's no longer sees his boyfriend chewing anything. "Show the bowl to the camera"
Seokjin shakes his head, taking a sip of water, "No .. i'm full", he grimaces as the water sits heavy on his stomach. He feels full—too full actually. "I shouldn't eat dinner", he mumbles, burying his head on his palm.
"It's okay .. take a deep breath. Do the breathing exercise your obgyn teached you", Yoongi instructs from the other side. "Do you still have those mint candies? Suck on it .. it might helps"
Seokjin nods, moving away from the camera a bit to search for the candy. He plops one to his mouth, before sitting back and counts his breathing. "I'm sorry ..", he murmurs after a while.
Yoongi tilts his head, "What for?"
Seokjin grimaces when a burp escapes him—leaving a tinge of his dinner aftertaste. "All i do is whining .. and now instead of talking .. you have to—", he shuts his eyes as he burps again. Liquid slowly creeps to his chest. Seokjin swallows, patting his chest few times, to get the lump there to get down "—tend me, calming me down like this ..", he breathes out.
"Seokjin .. are you okay?", Yoongi asks instead. "Breathes .. do you have water near yo—"
Yoongi sighs, leaning back to his seat as he waits for Seokjin to finish his business.
He doesn't get to finish his sentence, as Seokjin cuts him off, "Yoongi, i want to throw up, wait", he mumbles, words rushing behind his hand—not leaving Yoongi room for a respond.
Yoongi's eyes widen, looking at Seokjin that suddenly disappear from the camera, and not long after, he could hear a gag, coughing, and sound of liquid splatters somewhere.
"Are you okay?", Yoongi asks, sits up straight when he sees the older back to the screen, 5 minutes later. His cheeks flushed, and busy wiping up tears along with his runny nose. Yoongi wants nothing but run there to coodle him. He looks exhausted.
"Throw up all of the dinner .. maybe even lunch. That was a lot", Seokjin rasps, "I'm sorry, Yoongichi. I think i will rest, i'm tired"
Yoongi nods, "Go ahead, love .. sleep well"
***
If Seokjin thoughts yesterday was bad, then today is hell. And it's only the second day since Yoongi leaves.
He still has to survive one more day before his little dumpling boyfriend is here to help and cuddle him.
"Papa!"
Seokjin groans when he feels sudden weight pressing the side of his body, and hairs tickling his neck. "Papa!! Wake up!!"
"Aera .. good morning, baby", Seokjin greets, still having his eyes closed as he feels dizzy—and he doesn't want to run back to the bathroom to throw up (again). He just got to sleep for an hour after waking up in the middle of night to throw up. His little sprout—that's what Yoongi called it— is not having a good time today. Take a turn after their sister yesterday, apparently.
"Wake up, Papa .. it's mowning", Aera babbles, patting his cheeks, and shaking his body slightly.
Seokjin takes her little hand, and pull her closer to his chest, "Later .. baby. Papa is not feeling well", he mumbles, "What if we sleep some more?"
Aera hums, letting Seokjin plays with her hair as she throws her hand over his chest. "Papa sick?"
Seokjin hums, "A little .. so, let's sleep a little bit more, okay?"
"Okay, Papa"
Seokjin sighs in relief when Aera calms down over his chest, and he let himself relax—maybe trying to fall back to sleep, if he's lucky.
"Aera .. can you move, baby?", Seokjin asks after 10 minutes of their attempt to sleep in. Aera squirms away, sitting up straight. "Wake up?"
Seokjin just smiles, ruffling her head, "Papa need to go to the bathroom, wait here .. okay?", he mumbles quickly, before waddles to the bathroom.
"Uurrrkk—"
He doesn't even get to close the door properly—leaving it slightly open— before stream of his stomach content spraying from his lips. Seokjin gasps. Heart thumping loudly with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He pants, slowly let himself kneel into the floor—readying himself for the next round as he could feel it slowly creeps up to him.
"Papa!!"
Seokjin's eyes widen when he heard the door slams open against the wall before his daughter tattle inside, "Aera .. don't come, it's gro—"
He whirled his head back to the bowl. He briefly attempted to be quiet about it, but there was no stifling the gurgling retches, or the sound of vomit pouring into the water.
"Papa .."
Seokjin breathes heavily, in daze after those harsh and continuous fit. He barely registers the gentle pats on his back. "Aera .. baby"
"Papa .. sick ..", she croakes out, lips jutted out—a sign of upcoming cry.
"Aera ..", Seokjin sits on his heel, taking his daughter hand, "Can you call Appa? Call him good morning? He has been asking for you"
"Appa? Okay!", she nods eagerly, before scurrying out of the bathroom. Seokjin slumps, pressing his palm over his churning bump, once his princess out of his sight.
***
"Appa!!"
"Aera, hello baby", Yoongi greets once he picks up the call. "Why are you calling from your Papa phone?"
"Papa says .. Appa wants to .. call", she babbles, tilting her head.
"He did?", Yoongi asks, confused. "And where is your Papa?"
"Sick ..", Aera answers eagerly, then she places the phone on the pillow, making it stand before she moves her hand over her mouth, bending her little body slightly, making it like she's throwing up.
Yoongi's eyes widen, "Papa is throwing up?"
Aera nods again, "A lot ..", she mumbles. "Papa .. home?"
"Soon, baby .. now, i need to go, take care of your Papa?"
***
It was around 2PM.
Seokjin just finished giving Aera and himself lunch, and let Aera plays in the living room, as he runs back to the bathroom for his dose of morning sickness, when his apartment door bell buzzing.
Seokjin groans as he spits, weakly lifts his head from the toilet bowl—wanting to stands up and attend the guests, but before he could do it, a new wave hits him ; sending him burped productively—more of his lunch pouring out of his lips.
And his sickness, makes him completely not aware with how the bell has stop buzzing, and how there's a footsteps coming in.
He squeezes his eyes shut—shuddering, feeling disgusted. No matter how many times he has gone through it, it never lessen the horrible sensation. Seokjin sniffles, tighten his grip around the seat—riding waves of nausea in his stomach, and waiting for the next waves.
The guests can wait.
"Aigoo .. you're throwing up a lot"
Seokjin swears he never moves his pregnant body so fast, as pregnancy has been makes him sluggish—when he heard that voice, and feeling hand massaging his back.
"Yoongi?", he yelps, "How ...", he stammered, "You're home?"
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I gotta know about Addams family ronance the hyperfixations are colliding
LOL So - I did watch Wednesday and I did find it fun but I also don't think of it as being very Addams-Universe canon. For instance, I don't think something as silly as a knife to the heart would kill Wednesday, even Pugsley's done worse things than that when they were playing 'assassin'. I don't have a ton written for this, mostly ideas.
Here's the entirety of what's been written down coherently. Lots of orphaned lines and paragraphs but this I can share:
Nancy was born at home on the fifteenth of March, and as soon as her father cut the umbilical cord, he handed her to his aunt. Her aunt brought her to the spare bedroom and set her in the center of a ritualistic circle before slicing long, deep lines from her fathers wrist to his elbow. They chanted together as his blood poured from his wounds and coated his newborn daughter. Once the chant was completed, Nancy filled her lungs with her first breath of air and let out a bone chilling howl.
Mike received the same ritual three and a half years later, except this time Nancy’s aunt cut little lines into the toddlers wrists so that she could hold them over her new baby brother like Daddy. Nothing came out of her wrists, but she still felt big and important, giggling at the squeaky howl Mike released.
-
Her fascination with her baby brother came swiftly to an end. He was loud and annoying and the lack of sleep was making her mommy upset and snappy. One night when Mike was about 6 months old and Nancy was positive her parents were asleep, she grabbed him from his crib and quietly exited their old Victorian house. There was a small pond on the property and that was where she took him, smiling contentedly as his screams became gurgles and finally, finally, no more bubbles came up from the bottom.
In the morning her mom was hysterical, crying and blabbering to their father, who didn’t seem nearly as worried as she was. He eventually agreed to go down to the police station himself and then gently pressed two orange pills into her palm. He waited for her to lose consciousness before he turned, hands on hips, to look at Nancy.
“Nancy, were you playing with Mike last night?” he asked patiently. She frowned and worked harder at coloring her cartoons. “I won’t be mad, Nancy, you just have to tell me where you left him.” he tried the gentle approach and, irritatingly enough, it worked. She looked at him with big blue eyes, her lip wobbling.
“I HATE Mike.” she said angrily, stomping her little feet in frustration, “He’s TOO LOUD.” Nancy shrieked indignantly. Her father sighed and shrugged, nodding his head.
“All babies are loud, Nancy. You were loud too when you were his size.”
“Nuh UH” she argued firmly.
“Yes-huh.” he shot back, making her smile.
“It’s okay to be mad about how loud Mike is, but you can’t leave him outside of the house like that. Mommy will get worried if he’s not in his crib in the morning.” he said seriously. Nancy bowed her head in shame and sighed, leading her father to the pond. He dove in and resurfaced with Mike, gurgling and blue, covered in mud. Her Father squeezed him until he stopped spitting up water, and then the screaming began in earnest.
For her punishment, Nancy had to help clean Mike in the sink and then boil a big pot of water so they could bring his body temperature back up quickly.
“If Mommy wakes up and he’s still cold, it’s not going to be fun for any of us.” he warned, plopping Mike into the stockpot before covering it with the lid. Her brother seemed to like the hot water, his cries turning to little happy gurgles.
“What did we learn, Nancy?”
“Always put Brother back in his crib.” she said monotonously. Her father smiled, his green eyes flashing as he ruffled her hair.
“That’s right, kiddo.”
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Decay AU | Post-Birth holds
“I still can’t believe I made this.” Decay whispered, staring down in almost belief at the little bundle wrapped up and asleep, her metal fingers gripping the edge of the little medical cot as she peeked, almost afraid to disturb the ticking poop-bomb.
Pariah chuckled softly, her flesh hand running down Decay’s back. “Yes, you did.”
“He’s so small!”
“Did you expect him to pop out any bigger?”
Decay shrugged, “He felt like a toddler. The belly was huge.”
“Most of that was water. 6 pounds of that was him.” Pariah lent forwards, gently picking up the small bundle though Decay hesitantly held her hands out.
“Are you sure? My hands, they’ll be too cold.”
“He’ll get used to it.”
Decay swallowed but opened up her shirt nonetheless before the little weight was pressed into her chest. The baby gurgled a little, his face immediately nuzzling into her bare skin, her hands coming to rub his back though she felt scared; what if she hurt him? Her arms were metal… the touch sensitivity wasn’t as precise as her organic ones used to be…
“He’ll probably be looking for your breast so don’t be surprise if he keeps trying to nurse.”
Decay’s head turned to her mother’s counterpart sharply, “Like...how Rana used to do?” She remembered when she first met Rana; 6 months old and trying to get into Pariah’s shirt whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Pariah smiled, deepening the look of the scar along her jaw but she just looked…happy. “You don’t have to breast-feed, there are other options. As long as there’s skin to skin contact; you’ll still be able to bond.”
Decay let out a heavy breath. She had already fed him once and so far the experience was not pleasant; her boobs were too sensitive and it hurt and he wasn’t latching very well… “How long does it take before it gets easier?”
“It…depends. All my girls were breast fed, as we had very little alternatives so I had to grit my teeth and bare it. The first two weeks with my eldest were the hardest but… after that, it got easier. By the time Mirabel was born, it was one of the few things that kept her quiet and was happy to let her enjoy.”
“Two weeks…” she could try for two weeks and see how she felt with it… she could stick to a pump if she really couldn’t handle it. She had looked into the options before she had given birth; from donated milk to formula. She was sure if her Abuela was here, she’d insist on breast-fed regardless but she tried to reason the fact that Encanto had no way to make formula like the Watchers could here.
A snort made it through her lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“if Abuela was given the opportunity do you think she would have taken formula and bottles over breast-feeding you lot? Two boobs but three babies….”
Pariah blinked at her for a moment before her lip curled. “Now I’m thinking I know why Bruno is so small.”
Decay sniggered at her implication, “that would have made her life a little easier.”
Pariah nodded though lent down and kissed the fuzzy patch of hair before he gurgled though she could feel how he wiggled, pressing his face into the squishiness of her chest. “Oh, he’s looking.” She leant back, though he settled down from his search, his nose scrunching up.
“He looks just like you.”
“He popped out of me, damn well I hope so.” Decay mumbled.
Pariah chuckled, her head coming to rest on her shoulder. “Talk to Hallow if you need help changing him. You know she has experience with boys.”
Decay nodded softly. Hallow had mentioned some things to watch out for; Hallow had done the first change already given she was bed-bound for the first few hours but sooner or later; she was going to have to take full control and get used to it. She imagined Hallow had a challenge; Dante was already proven to be a wriggler.
Dante began to wiggle again, proving her observation correct before he began to fuzz.
“I think it’s time to feed.” Pariah lifted her head. ”You ready?”
Decay swallowed, sitting up though she felt her nerves sky-rocket up though Pariah pulled her arm back, the baby shifting away before his displeasure echoed loudly.
“Let him cry, it’s okay! Don’t let his cries panic you.” Pariah whispered, “Open your shirt and shove all what you can into his mouth.”
-
“He so small!” Wanderer gushed, holding the newborn as he gazed up “I knew you’d make pretty babies… this is one gorgeous little human being…”
“You used to say that about Rana.” Decay pointed out dryly, watching as she sipped her tea.
“Hm, then she grew up and started to throw knives. Less cuddly.” Wanderer lent her head down, pecking the little baby’s head. “Let’s hope you’re a cuddler.”
The baby’s brows pulled in though he was mostly looking hazy in her direction before he put his little fist in his mouth. “I heard Pariah’s taken time off from work.”
Decay nodded with a soft smile. “I can’t do this alone.” After everything with her family, she should be a strong woman and do this herself but… she needed someone. She couldn’t just be a single mother. She was a single mother with help because emotionally, she needed that.
If she was at home, the person she would have looked to would have her mother. Her mother wasn’t here. The fact he was a bastard, no one cared in the Watcher AU, marriage was a concept for civilians. Decay had learned to let go of a few things but still… thinking back; thinking how her family would react… it was uneasy.
Pariah Julieta would fill the gap she needed and someone she could trust explicitly.
Wanderer didn’t deny her statement though shifted him in her arms to stroke along his face. His hand flared from his mouth, drool covered before he grabbed a hold of her finger. “Oh, you’ve a firm grip. Perfect for knives.”
“Wanderer.” Decay warned.
“I’m joking!” Wanderer flashed her an innocent look. “He’s gotta grow first…”
She took the thrown towel to the back with pride and a wink.
tbh this was supposed to be longer but I lost a little more must so here’s something small and sweet with new Mama Decay XD i also need to get more banners lol
#decay au#encanto#encanto au#drabble#isabela madrigal#julieta madrigal#mirabel madrigal#wanderer mirabel#pariah julieta#decay isabela#dante madrigal#decay dante
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Honey Webbing
Part IX
As soon as the sun set down, Minthara found herself utterly out of place amidst the joyful chaos unfolding before her. The druid's household had erupted into a whirlwind of laughter and music, the children darting about like a swarm of brightly-colored insects. Villagers gathered inside and out, making Minthara feel even more suffocated. Seeking refuge from both the loud noise and the stares, the drow stood silently against the wall, a looming shadow in the corner of the room, her crimson gaze sweeping over the gathered pack, both searching for the half-drow and cataloging each child's demeanor with a critical eye. The gnome, Soren, she noted, was the most aloof of the bunch, his nose buried in a book as he seemingly ignored the revelry around him. The young dragonborn whose name was too long to be easily remembered – called “Finn”, for short, strutted about with his boisterous showmanship – Minthara found him grating, his dramatic flair serving only to mask a fundamental weakness. The human teenager called Talia, on the other hand, possessed a keen intellect and a pragmatic nature that the drow could almost admire, were it not for the girl's obvious attempts to act much more maturely than she actually was, desperately seeking the approval of every adult around her.
Minthara found herself abruptly pulled from her pensive observations as she felt a light tug at the hem of her trousers. Glancing down, her gaze fell upon the small, beaming face of the half-drow toddler, Fren. The child had seemingly taken an unexpected shine to Minthara, scampering about her legs with unbridled enthusiasm. Minthara's lips curled into a barely concealed sneer as she regarded the girl, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the child's unabashed affection.
"Fren, get away from her," a timid voice hushed from nearby. Minthara's eyes shifted to the voice's direction, finding the young human boy, Kiran, who eyed her in terror, his small hand clinging to the sleeve of a slightly older halfling girl – Lila, if Minthara recalled right – who was just as scared as him. Their cautious demeanor only served to further irritate her.
Fren, oblivious to the tension, continued to tug at Minthara's clothing, her large eyes gazing up at the imposing figure with unrestrained wonder. "Pwetty lady," she gurgled, her chubby fingers reaching out to grasp at Minthara's dark robes, with the obvious intention to be scooped from the floor into Minthara's arms. Which definitely was not going to happen. Suppressing a sharp retort, Minthara fixed the child with a cold, piercing stare, shaking her leg in an attempt to shoo her away, willing the girl to retreat. She had little patience for such random displays of affection, especially from one so young and… innocent. After all, the world was a harsh and unforgiving place – a lesson she would have gladly imparted to the foolish child, had circumstance and propriety allowed. Casting a dismissive glance towards the wary Kiran, Minthara carefully disentangled herself from Fren's curious grip, her expression hardening as she distanced herself from the child's unwanted attention.
Spotting Halsin engaged in conversation with a group of villagers, Minthara approached, her expression coolly aloof. "Halsin," she began, her tone clipped and authoritative. "I would suggest keeping a tighter leash on your youngest. Someone might accidentally step on the girl, and that would be... unfortunate.”
The underlying threat in her words was unmistakable, but to Minthara's surprise, Halsin simply eyed with clear concern, his attention seemingly elsewhere. "Mera," he murmured, his voice laced with worry. "No one saw her since this morning."
A villager standing nearby touched his shoulder, drawing both Halsin and Minthara's attention. "I can organize a search party, master Halsin," he offered, his gaze shifting anxiously between the two.
Halsin nodded, his expression grim. "Yes, please." He turned to Minthara, a silent plea in his eyes. "I must find her."
"Then I will accompany you," she stated, already moving to retrieve her gear, leaving no room for objections. This was a practical decision on Minthara's part - finding the missing girl, Mera, could provide her with answers that could further the investigation into the drowning incident. Of course, there was no guarantee that Mera would have the information Minthara needed, but she was willing to take the chance. Beneath Minthara's coolly detached demeanor, however, lurked a flicker of something else. A twinge of emotion, perhaps concern, stirred within her. But this was not something that she was willing to examine too closely. If anything, this could be the sensation of being indebted to Halsin after he saved her life, and she was willing to repay the debt. Whatever the reason, she quickly pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
< Part VIII || Part X >
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Arendelle Adventures
Chapter 17 - Walking
Read on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/35770243/chapters/131376682
Series Summary: The adventures and mishaps of the princesses of Arendelle: Elsa and Anna. one-shots.
Chapter Summary: Baby Anna learns to walk.
"Look, she's walking!" Elsa laughed, her hands tightly clasped around her baby sister's.
It was a warm spring day in Arendelle- snow no longer coated the ground, and flowers were blooming. While the King tended to some business matters, the Queen took her girls out for a walk. Anna, though, couldn't. Not yet, at least.
"Yes, I see that." The Queen noted, watching as Elsa walked backwards and Anna walked towards her. Anna could walk with people, or holding onto furniture, but she had yet to walk on her own yet. Elsa was getting impatient waiting for her sister to learn to take her first steps- the four-year-old had already waited an entire year! More so, by almost a month actually.
Anna gurgled out a round of sounds, that maybe she thought were words, and smiled up at her snowy sister. Elsa smiled back, and looked over her shoulder to avoid running into anything. She had held Anna's hands like this before, and ended up tripping because she wasn't looking where she was going.
After a few minutes, Anna began whining, and the Queen picked her up again. Elsa grabbed onto her mother's hand, and the family walked down to the docks. Sailors waved to them, and the princesses waved back. People often cooed at baby Anna, and compliment young Elsa, and everyone bowed to the Queen.
The Queen sat the girls down by the shore, and Elsa began picking up shells and rocks she thought were pretty. The Queen even dipped Anna's feet in the cool water, which led the toddler to squeal and giggle.
"Can I go in the water?" Elsa asked after a moment, starring out at the shining sea. The Queen tilted her head, a strand of dark hair tumbling free of her bun. "I'm sorry Sweetheart, but it's still too cold to go swimming." Elsa's face fell. The Queen smiled weakly. "You can dip your toes in, like Anna."
So, Elsa did that. The cold water didn't bother her as much as it bothered Anna, who would kick her legs every time a single toe came in contact with the liquid. Elsa and the Queen giggled at Anna's silliness, and Elsa carefully splashed water onto Anna, who would try to wiggle away. Her puffy red-ish hair had thickened since she was born, and seemed a little bit darker. Elsa stuck her hand in the water and let it drip onto Anna's hand to pester the poor baby, until the Queen made her stop.
After a little while of playing by the shore, the Queen made Elsa put her socks and shoes back on, before pulling her to her feet. "Do you want some lunch?" The Queen asked, once again setting a squirming Anna on her hip and taking Elsa's hand. The little girl quickly agreed, and soon they were skipping into the town. (Of course, all the skipping was coming from Elsa, the Queen just made sure she was holding her hand while she did)
The Queen bought warm, fresh buns from the town baker, as well as a few small cupcakes, that she hid from her daughters. At Elsa's request she also picked up some fruit and a small jug of milk. Elsa scouted out a nice place to sit- under a canopy of one of the shops. (the owner was so thrilled to see the royals that they brought out chairs and a table for them) They sat and ate, and Elsa was persistent in feeding Anna, despite the fact that she was quite able to pick up and eat the fruit herself.
"Is there anything you want to do today?" The Queen asked, crossing her ankles. Elsa pursed her lips in thought, trying to dig into the depths of her mind to find what she really wanted. She ended up just shrugging.
"What do you want to do today, Anna?" Elsa asked, leaning forward to nuzzle the toddler's fruit juice stained cheek. She cheered a round of baby talk.
They ended up walking around the village all day. Anna constantly wanted someone to hold her hands so she could walk too, but Elsa kept rushing away to look in shop windows or join in games that the village children were playing. Elsa even offered to make a special snowflake for one of them, but the Queen pulled her away before she had the chance.
As they started back towards the castle, Anna started whining. The Queen glanced at Elsa, who happily lifted her hands up to show she'd walk with Anna. Just after they passed through the gates and into the cobblestone courtyard, the Queen set Anna down, and Elsa quickly took her hands.
"C'mon Anna, walk with me!" Elsa urged excitedly, pulling her baby sister along. It was a slow pace, and The Queen watched them from the door, but Elsa stayed with Anna every step of the way. Elsa took a step back, while Anna took two or three forward. The elder girl kept mumbling encouragements that her sister probably couldn't understand yet, but kept smiling and laughing with her to let her know she was doing a good job.
Elsa's foot suddenly caught on a loose stone, and she stumbled backwards. She automatically let go of Anna, not wanting to drag her down with her as she fell. "Whoa!" She threw her arms out to try and catch herself, but was unable. She tripped and fell backwards.
Elsa landed on her backside, but wasn't hurt. She could see a thin layer of frost had crept away from her feet; probably due to the panic she felt as she fell. She brushed it away before looking back at her sister.
Anna was still standing, and watching Elsa. As soon as Elsa was looking at her again, the toddler smiled brightly. She giggled, and reached for her sister- but the only thing she could do was grab handfuls of air in her hands repeatedly.
Then she stepped towards Elsa. The fair haired girl froze, her eyes on her sister. Then a bright smile crossed her face as the younger girl took another step. And another. And another. Anna was walking!
"Mama!" Elsa called, looking over her shoulder at the doors, where the Queen was speaking to a servant. She glanced up. "Look! look, Anna's walking!" Elsa clapped her hands, and turned back to her sister.
"Good job, Anna!" Elsa cheered as her sister made it to her and fell into her outstretched arms. Elsa faltered a little under Anna's weight, but hugged her little sister tightly. "You walked! Finally, you walked!"
The Queen had rushed over to the girls, and had only see a few of Anna's steps. She picked up her from under the armpits and raised her high. She was laughing. "Oh Honey, you walked! I'm so proud of you!" She kissed both of Anna's cheeks, and the baby girl giggled. Elsa was hoping beside them both, excitement coursing through her as well.
"Yay Anna!" She cheered.
The Queen reached into her bag, and pulled out the small box of cupcakes. "This deserves a treat, don't you agree?" She said, looking between both her daughters. Elsa cheered again and Anna reached for the sweets. The Queen set Anna back on the ground, and took one of her hands. Elsa took the other, and soon the three of them were walking towards the castle together.
Now they could all go on walks, and actually walk together. Yay!
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BLRGHHH
(Photo Credit: Pinterest https://pin.it/2aVtwMdPv)
(Photo credit: Pinterest https://pin.it/1VU90AsDq)
A soft bell jingles as Stephanie enters the busy ice cream shop, the sweetness of waffle cones carrying throughout. The humid August air has turned her into a sweating mess and the cover-up dress she wore stuck like a second skin. Shrieking children run around the store with cones in their hands, their grubby fingerprints smudged onto the glass cases of ice cream flavours.
Stephanie’s flip flops clack as she walks towards the closest display. Her eyes skim the different labels, trying to track down the sorbet section as she moves on to the next display. Her hair, frizzy and tangled from the ocean waves, was slightly dripping down her back and she swore there was sand in her bikini bottoms.
She stood behind a couple, a pout forming on her lips as they order vanilla cheesecake and banana milk ice cream on waffle cones. She would kill to order cookie dough on a cone, but she forgot her lactaid pills at home.
“Hi, can I get the strawberry sorbet in a cup?”
“Just one scoop?” The teenage worker taps on her screen.
“Yes please.”
“Okay, your total is $7.35.” She turns the card machine towards Stephanie.
Stephanie’s eyes slightly bulge, her own strained smile dipping slightly. When the hell did ice cream get so expensive? She double clicked the power button on her phone, tapping her apple pay on the machine.
“Perfect! Alex here will scoop your order for you.” The girl points to a lanky teenager. He waves the metal scooper in his hand, a blush coating his cheeks.
Stephanie lets out a little smile as she walks off to the side. The boy had a ‘Training’ badge pinned to his shirt and she couldn’t help but pity how much she would hate training on one of the hottest summer days.
“Strawberry sherbet for you?”
Stephanie’s head jerks up from her phone. The boy holds the paper cup in his hand, a plastic blue spoon wedged in the pink delicacy.
“Thanks.” Stephanie’s fingers wrap around the cup. “Have a good day!”
***
The soothing sounds of the waves mix with the squawking of seagulls as Stephanie tans on her beach towel. It’s been thirty minutes since the sorbet and her stomach has been making weird monster gurgling sounds.
“I’m gonna go to the washroom.” Stephanie calls out to her mom, a cramp punching her in the gut. Her legs dart up, walking-almost-jogging to the beach bathroom.
“C’mon, c’mon.” Stephanie utters, foot tapping on the grimy tiles. The bathroom smelled like rotten eggs and sea water, but her cramping stomach forced her to ignore the smell as she clenched her entire body again.
She just needed one of these bathroom doors to open before she shit her pants. She looks to the dingy bathroom ceiling as she sends a curse to the ice cream store. Who the hell puts dairy in sorbet? The flushing of toilets echoes as a bathroom stall swings, a toddler and her mom emerging. Stephanie speeds past them, slamming the door shut and locking it.
She grimaces as her bare ass sits on the toilet seat. Fuck. Her stomach clenches again and a bead of sweat drips down her forehead.
“Mommy, mommy. There’s a monster in the bathroom!”
(Photo Credit: QuickMemes http://www.quickmeme.com/Lactose-intolerant)
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