#think of the mother who died giving birth

[vastderp]

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

#death #gofundme #donate if you can #i had a baby brother

[mimisempai]

THE 1001 INEFFABLE NIGHTS -

The blood-red-haired princess and the seven little demons

Summary 

It has become a ritual for Aziraphale to read a bedtime story to their twins, Alexis and Cassandra. And Crowley is also an eager listener.

But tonight the children want a short story with a happy ending.

Isn't it time to revisit fairy tales in an ineffable way?

Notes

Inspired by this beautiful drawing by @gleafer here Oh and yes I have no idea what I am doing but I am doing it anyway...

On Ao3

Rating G -  4078 words

"Pa! Dad! We want a story!"

As Crowley made his way to the nursery, he couldn't help but chuckle as he heard the twins calling Aziraphale for what had become an inevitable bedtime ritual.

He knew exactly what sight awaited him the moment he entered Alexis and Cassandra's bedroom. A sight he would never tire of seeing.

Aziraphale was helping his daughter put on her onesie when he replied, "We finished Estelle the Star Fairy yesterday. What shall I read to you tonight?"

"Not a long story!"

"A story with a happy ending!"

"One that doesn't need a book!"

Crowley leaned against the door frame and looked fondly at his family.

"Hmmm, I don't think I've ever read or told you any fairy tales, have I?"

"Oh no! What's this?"

As Aziraphale climbed onto the twins' bed and sat against the headboard, Crowley sat on the floor against the wall and watched as the twins settled on either side of his husband, snuggling up to him. Aziraphale winked at him before wrapping his arms around the children.

Crowley made a small gesture to dim the lights and waited almost as eagerly as his children for his husband to tell a new story.

"I'm going to tell you the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but in a slightly different way. Let's say it's about Rose and the seven little demons."

Crowley frowned as Aziraphale continued, "Like all great stories, it begins..."

Crowley couldn't help but interrupt, "In a garden." 

"Dad! It's Pa telling the story!"

Crowley chuckled and let Aziraphale continue.

"Once upon a time there was a queen who tended her precious roses in the castle garden. Everyone came to admire her garden because her roses were all a distinctive yellow, reminiscent of the most beautiful sunsets over the sea. 

On day, her attention caught by a butterfly flying around one of her rose bushes, she paid no attention and pricked herself on a rose thorn.

A drop of crimson blood fell on one of the petals, and as she watched the little red spot form a star on the warm-coloured petal, she put her hand on her already well-rounded belly and said softly, "Ah, if only my child could have hair as red as blood and eyes as beautiful as the yellow of my roses".

Some deity must have heard her prayer, because a few weeks later she gave birth to a daughter whose hair was as red as blood and whose eyes were as warm as her precious roses. Needless to say, the little baby was named Rose.

As the child grew in wisdom and beauty, her mother sadly fell ill and died.

Rose's father quickly found a new wife to give his little girl a new mother.

But he hadn't seen the real side of his new wife, who was proud and haughty. So haughty, in fact, that she couldn't bear anyone to surpass her in beauty.  

She had a magnificent mirror in her room, which was not only beautiful, but magical, and when she stood in front of it and saw her reflection, she would whisper to it, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The mirror would always reply, "You, O Queen, are the fairest of them all," and the queen would be satisfied, for the magic of this mirror was to tell the truth.

Rose grew and became more beautiful, so much so that by the time she was 16, rumours spread throughout the land that the young princess was the most beautiful of all women.

When the queen heard these rumours, she decided to consult her magic mirror and asked once again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "You are beautiful among the most beautiful women, but Rose is the most beautiful of all in this country."

The queen, shocked, was overcome with jealousy, and from then on, every time she looked at Rose, hatred grew in her heart, leaving her no peace, neither day nor night.

The day her husband, the king, left on a journey, she sent for a huntsman and told him, "Take the princess into the forest. Kill her and bring me her lungs and liver as proof that you've fulfilled your mission. If you do not obey, I will have your wife and children killed."

The hunter had no choice but to obey and carry out his mission, but as he was about to pierce the innocent princess' heart deep in the forest, she began to cry and beg him, "Oh, dear hunter, let me live! I'll run away into the wild forest and never return to the castle!"

Seeing in her one of his daughters, he took pity on the princess and said, "Run away, my poor girl, and never come back."

He watched her go deeper into the forest, then did what he knew best: he hunted and brought back the lungs and heart of a bear to the queen as proof that he had accomplished his mission.

Now the poor princess was all alone in the great forest, and she kept on running, making her way through the thicker and thicker bushes, the thorns clawing at her, her shoes tearing on the sharp stones, but she didn't stop, she kept on running.

Suddenly there were no more bushes, she felt soft grass under her feet and saw a small thatched cottage ahead.

She hesitated for a moment, but exhaustion overcame her scruples and she decided to enter. She couldn't stop herself from gasping, for everything in the thatched cottage was small. Neat and clean, but small even if in a cute way.

The table was topped with a white cloth and had seven place settings, surrounded by seven small chairs.

At the back were seven small beds against the wall, neatly made and looking so comfortable.

Rose was so worn out that she only took a small piece of bread and a sip of water before making her way to the beds. They were all quite small, so she pushed one against the other before dropping down and falling asleep immediately.

It was well into the night when the door of the thatched cottage creaked open to admit seven little demons, so alike they were indistinguishable.

The first lit the candles, the second put wood in the fireplace, which the third lit. 

The fourth said, "Someone has bitten into my piece of bread.

The fifth said, "Someone has drunk from my glass of water.

The sixth approached the beds and said, "Someone is sleeping on my bed."

The seventh replied, "On mine too."

They all gathered around the beds, and the first who had lit the candles drew one close to the sleeping figure on their bed, and they all uttered the same gasp of surprise as they murmured heartily, "How beautiful she is!"

"What lovely fiery hair!"

As the young princess seemed harmless to them, they tacitly agreed not to wake her and to wait until the next day.

After a meal accompanied by whispers, they all went to bed, those whose beds were free squeezing in and offering a place to those who had none.

It was a ray of sunlight that woke Rose in the morning, and she sat up briskly before retreating to the wall at the sight of the seven little demons.

But when her eyes met only friendly smiles, she relaxed slightly and smiled back before sheepishly apologising for using their home without permission.

They looked very strange, with their horn-like hair and black-rimmed eyes.

The nearest one asked gently, "What's your name?"

"My name is Rose."

Then, faced with their pressing questions, she told them her story.

"What were the demons' names?"

Aziraphale paused to look down at his son, who had just asked him the question, before replying, "They were all called Eric."

"What?"

Aziraphale nodded and smiled at Crowley's sneer before replying, "Yes. Eric."

"But how did anyone know who they were?"

"There was Eric the Dopey, Eric the Doc, Eric the Bashful, Eric the Sneezy."

"Because he sneezed all the time?"

"That's right, honey. There was Eric the Happy, Eric the Sleepy and finally Eric the Grumpy."

"Like Dad?"

"Hey!"

Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "Absolutely, like Dad in the morning."

"Pa?"

"Yes, sweetie."

Aziraphale looked at his daughter who asked, "Were their horns like mine?"

Cassandra raised her hand to the two small horns on her forehead, around which fell a few curls of the same red colour as her father's.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to her forehead and replied, "Not quite. No one has horns as beautiful as yours, sweetie."

"Oh, I love you so much, Pa."

Then the two children snuggled up to their father again, and after exchanging an emotional look with Crowley, Aziraphale continued his story.

"The little demons told Rose she could stay with them and wouldn't want for anything, all she had to do was look after the house when they went out to harvest and pick.

But Rose didn't like sitting around doing nothing, so to thank them for their generosity, she decided to keep the house clean and cook for them. Then, when she'd finished her daily chores, she'd leave the cottage and sit on the grass by the little pond where a family of ducks had made their home.

As for the queen, she slept peacefully, believing that Rose was no longer of this world. 

But one morning, dressed in her finest clothes, she stood before the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all."

The queen was furious when she realised that the hunter had betrayed her and that the princess was still alive.

She thought all day and all night, and when the morning came, she knew what she had to do.

She locked herself in her room and disguised herself as an old peddler whose identity no one could guess. In this disguise, she made her way to the clearing of the seven demons, and when she was sure that only the princess was in the cottage, she left the forest and knocked on the door of the little house.

She saw Rose leaning out of the window and the princess asked, "My good lady, what are you selling?"

"Pretty things for pretty girls, look, I've got lots of pretty satin ribbons for your corset."

Rose was a young woman, she loved fine things, and she thought the old lady was harmless, so she was tempted and bought some blue satin laces from the old lady, who offered to help her replace the old laces on her corset.

The princess went out of the thatched cottage and, with her back to the old lady, let her tie the lace in her corset to replace the old one.

The old woman squeezed the ribbon so hard that Rose was out of breath and fell as if dead.

The old woman leaned over her and whispered in a sinister voice, "Now I'm the fairest of them all," then stomped off into the forest.

Soon after, the seven demons arrived at the house and were shocked to find their beautiful princess lying motionless on the floor.

Eric the Doc, who could see the reason for her condition from his blue lips, asked his brothers to help him turn her over. Seeing that the ribbons were too tight, they cut them and it wasn't long before Rose was back to life.

After she told them what had happened, Eric the Grumpy pointed his finger at her and said, "Watch out for everyone. That peddler was probably the queen."

Rose promised, and that evening the seven demons hovered around her until they were sure she was safe.

The queen arrived at the castle, took off her disguise and stood before the mirror again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons dwell, Rose is the most beautiful in all the country".

When the queen heard this, her blood ran cold and she was frightened to see that her plan had failed once again.

Descended from a long line of witches, she fashioned a poisoned comb, then took the appearance of another old woman and once again made her way to the clearing of the seven demons.

This time the princess sat alone by the pond, her beautiful red hair unbound and falling in wavy cascades over her shoulders.

The old woman exclaimed, "I only sell the most precious things. I have just the thing for your beautiful fiery hair. Look at this magic comb, young lady, for just a few coins it'll make your hair even shinier."

Seeing the young princess's suspicious look, the old lady took a comb from her pocket and ran it through her own hair, "Look my child, it's harmless!"

Rose allowed herself to be tempted again and the old lady said in a gentle tone, "Come my sweet, let me comb it for you."

Rose complied, and no sooner had the old woman run the poisoned comb through her hair than the poison began to spread, and it took only a few seconds for the young princess to fall unconscious. 

"Who is the most beautiful now?"

The old woman laughed sardonically.

When the demons returned to the cottage, they were astonished to find that everything was dark.

"Rose?"

Only the quacking of ducks near the pond answered them, drawing their attention back to the pond. They ran over and saw Rose's silhouette on the ground.

They immediately suspected it was another of the queen's tricks, and after a few moments found the poisoned comb.

No sooner had they removed it than Rose regained consciousness and soon told them what had happened in the safety of the thatched cottage.

They warned her again and decided that they would take turns standing guard every day.

At home, the queen went to the mirror again and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

It answered as before, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all the country."

The queen exploded with rage and took a whole month to devise the perfect plan to create the potion from which the young princess would never recover. She dipped a beautiful red apple in the potion, placed it in the middle of an apple basket, disguised herself as an old hunchbacked lady and set off once more to clearing of the seven demons.

Crowley chuckled, "Got to hand it to the persistent bugger."

"Dad, let Pa tell the story. I want to know how it ends before I fall asleep!"

As Cassandra admonished him, Crowley saw their son Alexis spread his little white wings and had no time to react before he found himself with a little angel in his lap. Alexis, the image of his angelic father, said, "Cassie's right, Dad, I want to know the end before I fall asleep too."

Crowley, unable to refuse his son who was giving him the same pleading look as his father when he wanted something, let him cuddle up to him and said to his husband, "Go on, Angel."

Aziraphale blew him a kiss with his fingertips and resumed his story.

"When nothing happened for a month, the demons left Rose alone again during the day, and one day the persevering queen arrived in the clearing, approaching the thatched cottage with a stooped step, carrying her basket of apples.

Then she dropped and cried out, "Help! I'm an old woman! I can't get up by myself."

Despite the demons' warnings, Rose couldn't stop herself from helping the battered-looking old woman. She rushed to the old woman's side, picked up the apples and put them back in the basket.

The old woman exclaimed, "Thank you, my child. How kind you are! To thank you for helping me, I give you this beautiful red apple".

Seeing the princess's fear, the old woman took another apple from the basket and bit into it. Convinced, Rose took the red apple and bit into it wholeheartedly.

One bite was enough for the poison to take effect and the young princess fell to the ground, her eyes empty and all life gone from her face.

"Rose, with hair as red as blood and eyes as warm as the setting sun, not even the demons can wake you this time."

She returned to the castle, rushed to the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, in this country you are the fairest of them all. No woman surpasses you in beauty."

For the first time in a long time, the queen was able to rest, as much as an envious heart can rest. 

When the demons returned that evening, they found Rose lying on the ground outside the house, lifeless, without a breath of life.

They lifted her, turned her over, but found nothing, no ribbon, no comb, they tried everything, but had to face the cruel evidence.

The unfortunate princess was dead.

They built a small altar by the duck pond, covered it with the petals of the young princess's favourite flowers, yellow roses that echoed the warm colour of her eyes, and laid her body on it. For days, they took turns around the lifeless body, weeping and gazing at her beauty, which not even death seemed to be able to touch.

With her beauty still intact, they couldn't bring themselves to bury her body, so they had a glass coffin made and had her name engraved in gold letters so that she could be admired forever.

They placed the glass coffin on the altar by the duck pond she loved so much, and days and weeks went by, her beauty untouched. 

Now a bush of yellow roses had magically grown around the altar, and as word spread, people came from far and wide to admire the beautiful princess.

The demons remained heartbroken and continued to watch over their princess.

One day, the young king of the neighbouring country heard the rumour and came to the clearing to kneel before the glass coffin.

He stayed for days, fascinated by the princess's beauty and listening to the stories the seven demons told of their lives with Rose.

Then, even more than her outward beauty, he was fascinated by the beauty of her soul, and went to the demons and asked, "I'll give you anything you want if you'll let me take her with me.

"Even for all the gold in the world, we won't let you have her."

But when they saw that the king would not go, they took pity on him and said, "You can take her with you, for she deserves to be in a home worthy of a princess. Even dead."

The king thanked them and said, "You can visit her whenever you like, the gates of my castle will always be open to you.

The king's men came to carry the coffin on their shoulders, but on the way to the castle, one of them stumbled and the piece of poisoned apple flew out of Rose's mouth. Shocked, they almost dropped the coffin when they saw the young princess open her eyes.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! She's alive!"

They placed the coffin on the ground, removed the lid and Rose slowly sat up, gasping for breath before saying, frightened, "Where am I, what's happened?"

The king sent men to fetch the seven demons and, kneeling before her, told her all he knew.

Rose shook her head and said, "I will never be able to escape her."

The king placed his hand gently on Rose's and said softly, "Come with me to my castle. I promise to protect you from her and her plots."

Behind him, Rose could see the seven demons nodding their heads.

She murmured, "All right. I'll come."

No sooner had she said the word than the prince scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his horse before climbing on behind her, holding Rose tightly to his chest.

The demons embraced as the king and Rose rode off, promising to visit again soon.

At the king's castle, Rose slowly recovered, taking long walks in the palace gardens and having long talks with the king, who gave her everything she needed.

She felt less and less the need to be alone and longed for the prince's presence, missing his pale hair and clear blue eyes, his gentle voice and soft smile.

A few weeks later, just after they had shared their first kiss under an archway of blooming roses, the king got down on one knee and asked Rose to be his queen.

When Rose said yes, the wedding was to be celebrated with great pomp, and couriers travelled to neighbouring countries to invite all the nobles.

Rose's stepmother, of course, received an invitation and dressed in her finest for the occasion. Before leaving, she couldn't resist asking the mirror in her room, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all in this region, but the young queen who is getting married today is by far the most beautiful."

At first she was so angry that she thought she wouldn't go, but curiosity was the strongest and she wanted to see who this beautiful rival was.

When she entered the reception hall and walked down the long red carpet that led to the young couple, it took her only a few steps to recognise Rose, with her blood-red hair and sunset-warm eyes.

Admitting defeat, she ran away, and legend has it that she's still running.

As for the King and the young Queen Rose, they lived happily ever after and had many demons, er, I mean children."

"You lost them just before the wedding, Angel."

"At least they're asleep, that was the point, wasn't it?"

Aziraphale looked fondly at Cassandra, who slept against him, thumb in mouth, while Alexis was slumped against Crowley's chest.

They put the twins to bed, tucked them in and it was only when the two fathers planted a light kiss on their children's foreheads that they both woke just long enough to say good night before turning over and going back to sleep.

Aziraphale had barely closed the door to their bedroom when he felt Crowley's arms wrap around him from behind as the demon rested his chin on his shoulder and said softly, "I see you've taken some liberties with Snow White. I wonder what Eric would think if he knew the role you've given him?"

Aziraphale turned in his husband's arms and wrapped his hands around Crowley's neck before saying mischievously, "Didn't you like my princess with her blood red hair and eyes as warm as the setting sun?"

“So that means I'm a princess?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, "For this story anyway, any problem with that?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "No problem as long as you're my king."

Aziraphale drew Crowley's face to his and pressed his lips to the demon's in a tender kiss that lingered until they had to separate to catch their breath.

Then Crowley asked, "So who's the Evil Queen?"

"Metatron, of course."

They looked at each other and laughed.

Then Aziraphale asked, "Shall I carry you to our bedroom bridal style as in the tale?"

Crowley moved away, grabbed the angel's hand and replied, "Don't bother carrying me, let's go together," then, he dragged his husband into their bedroom, where they continued the tale in their own way.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #kidfic

[hellishere7980]

Whatever It Takes (CH-6)

From Plymouth, she made her way to London.

London. It fitted her. The clouds stopped the blinding sunlight from ever reaching the ground. Like a tamer version of Gotham. Obviously the crime rates were not near each other, but at least the atmosphere matched. Dark. Cloudy. Cold.

Six days after Ra’s Al-Ghul died.

One day she was sitting in the park when she came across a curious old woman. Mariam was just sitting on a bench, minding her own business when an old woman with a smiling face and a funny little bun came along and sat beside her on the bench. 

“You like the clouds, I see.” she said.

Normally Mariam would not have replied, but it was days since she had a decent conversation with anyone, soo…

“It keeps the heat down.” Is what she said in response.

“Heat in London?”

“If the clouds weren't here, it would be a nice warm day with blinding sunshine and what not.”

“True.”

With that, they both sat in silence. Soon it was lunchtime and the old lady got up.

“What would you like to have for lunch?” She asked.

“How do you know my mother has not made lunch for me already?” Mariam asked, assessing her from the corner of her eye.

“Because most kids who are to eat at home start looking around for their mother as soon as it dawns lunchtime.” The old lady asked, smiling at Mariam. “I was thinking. Sandwiches would make a splendid lunch. What do you say?”

“No, thank you.”

“Look, child. I can tell that you have some sort of training. And that you are on the run.” 

Mariam tensed.

“I'm not here to hurt you.” The old lady continued. “This is me trying to return- more accurately, pass on the favor. Someone much dear to me also suffers through this.”

“So this is your way of easing your guilt? You couldn't save your loved one, so now you're trying to save me? I don't need to be saved.” Mariam said, getting up.

“My Fu is alive, thank you very much.” The old lady replied, frustration seeping into her voice.

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Nobody should leave a child on their own.”

“Child.” Mariam let out a sarcastic laugh. “Haven't heard that in a while.”

“Come on, young lady. I think you would like to meet Fu.”

And that's how she met him. That's how she met Wang Fu. The Guardian of the Mother Miracle Box. That's how she learned the old lady's name. Marianne Lenoir. Curious little coincidence there. Marianne, Mariam. But her life was nothing if not a coincidence. Her birth to her survival. Coincidence.

Meanwhile, in America (Batcave)

“You realize, Bruce, she doesn't have that level of training!” A female figure said. Her frustration evident through the huge screen in the Batcave.

“Talia, I know you don't like the sound of it, but it fits.” Batman said, his cowl off. “Tell me, who else would have the training? We both know it's not that simple to kill Ra's Al Ghul. All his assassins always sweep a perimeter wherever he goes. They are constantly on rotating grounds, otherwise it would have been so easy to kill Ra's Al Ghul.”

“Bruce, you talk like I don't know that.” Talia said, the sounds of swords clashing behind her clear enough to echo through the batcave. “Oh, and I wish they would stop fighting already!” She said loudly, shooting a dirty look over her shoulder where the sound of swords was coming from. “Continuous clash. Even though they know they are outnumbered, they can't give up.”

Nightwing came from behind to stand beside Batman's chair. “Those rebel groups have not quite burned down yet?” 

“They would have, but they refused to change. Normally there wouldn't be so much rebellion if I had just inherited it, but father with all his ‘females are inferior’ complexity which By the way was known throughout the league. Those groups are simply unwilling to have a female Demon Head.” 

“It doesn't help that the League of Assassins is changing its aims, does it?” Nightwing asked with a sad smile.

“No it does not.” Talia agreed, slightly shaking her head. “How I wish she was here.”

“I'm sorry, Talia.” Bruce said. “But she simply vanished.”

“And that's what confuses me.” Talia said. “She doesn't have that level of training that she can simply disappear off the bat–”

“Pun intended?” Nightwing asked with a sly smile.

“No.” Talia said, rubbing her forehead. “Coming back to the topic, she couldn't have killed Father. You realize to kill him somebody would have had to throw the stone based on their pure aim and–” She threw her hands up in frustration. “It's not as easy to aim with a stone as it is to aim with a gun. Whoever did this had remarkable marksmanship.”

“There's no point in fretting over it, Talia. We have our systems up. I will check daily but I think we should trust her enough to know that she knows what she's doing.” Bruce said.

“Wait a minute. Hold up.” Nightwing said, turning towards him. “Where was this trust when I used to disappear?”

“Girls are more mature.” Bruce mumbled.

And the night ended with Nightwing's offended sounds and Talia's soft laughing.

Bonus:

Mariam looked at the floating green turtle creature in front of her. She stared at the creature, and the creature stared back at her. Fu and Marianne looked in anticipation from behind her.

Mariam turned to look at them, pointing at that floating green turtle thing. “ What in the unholy hell is THAT!?

Bonus #2

“So,” Mariam said as she and Fu made their way back to the massage parlor after bidding Marianne farewell at the train station. “How many Kwamis are there?”

“You are not ready for that information. Just as we don't put the noodles in the water unless it's boiling, you'll have to show patience before you are taught about the miraculous.”

“Excuse me Mister but this is a life, not a fucki** pot!”

#maribat #miraculous lb #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanworks #hellishere7980 #bio dad bruce wayne #talia al ghul #damian and marinette #damian wayne #tim drake #miraculous incorrect quotes

[britneyshakespeare]

The shy bachelor Godwin thought that Mary Robinson was not only intelligent and "Rational," but also incomparably beautiful. His daughter Mary Shelley recorded that "Among his acquaintances were several women, to whose society he was exceedingly partial, and who were all distinguished for personal attractions and talents. Among them may be mentioned the celebrated Mary Robinson, whom to the end of his life he considered as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but though he admired her so greatly, their acquaintance scarcely attained intimate friendship."

Perdita: The Literary, Theatrical, and Scandalous Life of Mary Robinson (2004) by Paula Byrne, page 322, contained in the beginning of Chapter 22: Radical

#i can't stop thinking about this #william godwin #mary robinson #mary shelley #mary wollstonecraft #and in at least one letter wollstonecraft admitted to godwin that she had wanted to leave a dinner party earlier out of jealousy #but she didn't bc she could tell he was enjoying perdita's company so much #for what it's worth nobody should take this out of context bc these two marys were huge supporters of each other and friends #but if my dad were to say this about any woman other than my mother who died due to complications after giving birth to me #bruh. i know this is probably a rather contemporary cultural judgment to make but still #'oh YEAH dad? why dont you go tell that to the daughter you had with mary robinson—OH WAIT #you just have ME. MY fucking bad' #ps i also love how (i have yet to read her novels but this is routinely mentioned in the biography) all of her heroines #have long dark auburn hair and blue-grey eyes. bc that's what she looked like #and tbh i love it for the incredibly selfish reason that that's what i look like. im vain. goodnight! #(we really do stigmatize that sorta thing now. making ur main character resemble urself. i think thats stupid. its a fine practice) #(no i think we only do that when the author is a woman bc then her character is omg basically her she didnt even try) (eyeroll)

[bethanydelleman]

I'm really tired of the "woman sad about her arranged marriage" trope, especially if that woman is royalty.

I am sure that many women across time were sad about their arranged marriages, but I'm sure a lot of others were excited, ambivalent, or resigned. Again, especially if you were royalty! I am sure if you were born a princess, you were trained from birth that your whole purpose in life was to marry someone important to solidify the power of the person on the throne. And honestly, it's an important job, if it wasn't, they wouldn't have tried so hard to do it.

That woman isn't just marrying another king or prince, she's going to be an ambassador of her country. She's supposed to be there promoting good relations. She isn't just a woman being sold off, she has a job! Also, if she is marrying the reigning monarch (or the heir), she may well end up running the country if the king is off at war or he dies when the heir is really young. That happened a lot throughout history! (or maybe she marries the third son and helps him find his way to the throne. Good for her)

It just feels like a modern sentiment being projected back. In Romeo and Juliet, when Juliet's mother first brings up marrying her to Paris, Juliet's basically cool with it and says she'll try to like him. She would have known this was going to happen because that is what rich women do, they marry into another family so their two families can be buddies. What else would she even be expecting?

It wouldn't bother me so much except that it's all we see! Give me a story about a woman who is like, "Cool, I shall give it my all!" Or she's like rolling up her sleeves and planning how she's going to get the court on her side and rule France, power behind the throne style (these women are mostly portrayed as villains, but who is to say the king would do a better job?). And also, have a little faith in women's fathers? You think men in the past didn't occasionally consider the happiness of their daughters? Not even a little bit?

#rant #not Jane Austen #but related I feel #Let me at France I would totally rule that country #kind fathers were invented in 1952 #tropes #tropes we hate

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

Of all the theories as to how Carmilla and her daughters found eachother in Hell (adoption, reuniting after they died, one or all three being Hellborn, ect;), I think my personal favorite is the one where Carmilla was either pregnant when she died or later gave birth to a child she miscarried when she was alive.

But whether or not that’s true, one of my favorite crack theories/headcanons about Carmilla being pregnant in Hell is how absolutely weird the other Overlords would be about it- because let’s be real, they would absolutely be weird about it. Maybe supportive and weird, but weird.

Zestial, nervously following Carmilla around: My darling. My own heart. I beg of thou, please, for just a moment.

Carmilla, still stubbornly walking around in her ridiculously sharp shoes: I’M FINE.

Zestial, who’s been trying to get her to sit down or at least change her shoes for over an hour: 0,_0

Rosie, crouched at her side with a glass of something red and questionable: I’m telling you, honey, just try this. It’ll cure that morning sickness in a jiffy.

Carmilla, curled up on her bathroom floor: …it disturbs me that I’m nauseous enough to actually be considering this.

Zestial comes to her rescue and shoos Rosie out to go make her some (GINGER) tea before Carmilla can do something she’ll regret.

Alastor, gazing suspiciously: Why on earth is your abdomen moving like that? Is something trying to break out?

Carmilla, too exhausted to deal with this: That movement is my baby kicking, Alastor.

Alastor: Pardon? You mean to tell me that one can see that on the outside? Eugh.

Carmilla, glaring at him: You are so lucky you’re not worth getting up for.

- Rosie insists on throwing her a baby shower. Vox and Alastor get kicked out for fighting and are forced to put together the IKEA furniture for the nursery as punishment.

- I seriously doubt this lot can build and work an ultrasound machine, so something like this is likely.

Carmilla, slowly coming to after giving birth: Mmmh…?

Rosie, happily bouncing one baby in her arms: Oh good, she’s up! Congratulations, sweetie. You have two beautiful daughters 🥰

Carmilla: ….

Zestial, who’s gently cradling the other: Carmilla…? Is something the matter?

Carmilla: …there’s really two of them. I thought I was hallucinating.

BONUS:

Fun fact- some scientists say cats have sensitive enough hearing that they can hear babies’ heartbeats within their mother’s bodies.

Husk, staring at Carmilla:

Carmilla, who’s still processing that she’s pregnant and hasn’t begun telling anyone else: …is something wrong?

Husk, ears bristling slightly: h o w m a n y h e a r t s d o y o u h a v e ?

#carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla #hazbin hotel zestial #zestial morde #a little bit of #zestmilla #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #yes there is ikea in hell #fight me #in fact all furniture in hell is from IKEA #Rosie’s go to punishment for the dumbasses when they fight is to make them assemble furniture for her #gets them out of her hair and she gets her furniture put together #Zestial sometimes gets sent to supervise but he’s no help #he’s in fact very unhelpful #he does not understand in the slightest #he’s a good stepdad tho #hazbin hotel clara #hazbin hotel odette #clara carmine #odette carmine #hazbin hotel husk #I have no idea if the cat thing is true #I didn’t fact check it that hard #tw: #tw pregnancy #tw mentions of miscarriages #tw childbirth

[visenyaism]

Heyy!! What are your thoughts on Jaeherys and Alysanne's daughters?

well when your father looks at you and only sees an incarnation of his own sister-wife because you were put on this earth for him to groom into a future child bride for his sons or summarily disposed of it is a bit of a crazymaking situation.

I think the reason Jaehaerys acted inexplicably genuinely shocked every single time one of his teenage daughters got to marrying age and someone suggested that they get married was because he thought that he was going to be the only man in their lives forever because there is something deeply wrong with him. and then their mom is arranging these crazyass matches with older men to live vicariously through them because she never got to choose a partner, so it really is just a complete and total psychosexual codependency enmeshment nightmare.

-think something had to be extremely wrong with valyrian tradwife never allowed to develop an independent identity Alyssa below the surface. because being named the golden child by responding positively to the grooming telling you to peg your brother and wanting to birth him an entire army of sons before dying at 23 definitely speaks to….something. where else do daemon‘s mommy issues come from

-Daella exists to be a victim and dies giving birth to her daughter who also exists to be a victim. sacrificial lamb parthenogenesis.

-Maegelle got out of everything else simply by being conceived with the explicit intention of being a living tithe. somehow the least crazy situation on this list. 

-I don’t know whether or not it is intentional that Saera is written exhibiting so many of the behaviors indicative of being a CSA victim. hypersexual alcoholic dysregulated fifteen year-old being held down and forced to watch her father chop her boyfriend in half by her mom‘s codependent female bodyguard is an experience you could throw the entire works of Sigmund Freud at and come up lacking. i hope lys was nice.

-Viserra being exiled for absorbing too much of the Targaryen grooming background radiation and getting falling down drunk at 15 before making a move on her brother. this just keeps happening to them. I’m sure it’s a coincidence. insane that Alysanne really felt like she was competing with her own daughter here because I know she was a #boymom with baelon and aemon.

-I think it’s interesting how no one mentions Gael ever again after she kills herself and no one seems to think of her at all given the fact that she’s daemon’s age and presumably would’ve interacted with any of the grandkids. I know it’s because textually she’s just an afterthought, but I think it would be interesting if her yellow wallpaper ass existence and the fact that she is basically a pet for her mother her entire life just sort of renders her posthumously unspeakable. no one wants to talk about what happened to her.

#asoiaf #maybe gael can be proto-aelora

[goldengalore]

Ready

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants kids. Y/N isn’t sure what she wants. Feeling pressured to make up her mind, she agrees to something she’s not ready for.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: Hello! It’s been a while. This fic is based on this ask I received forever ago. Enjoy :)

***

Y/N has always been on the fence about having kids.

As a young teenager, she assumed she would have them when she grew up, fell in love, and got married. Social norms, along with her own childish naivete, made her believe that this was the only path one could take in life. Having children was the next logical step to marriage, which was the next logical step to falling in love.

And then she matured and realized that life is not nearly as cut-and-dry, that having kids is a choice, not a necessity, and that she can absolutely go her whole life without having any if that’s what she wants. This realization came as a relief but also felt somewhat unnerving because how is she supposed to know what she wants? She is quite possibly the most indecisive person on the planet, so it’s no surprise that she has bounced back and forth between wanting and not wanting children throughout her entire adult life.

On one hand, she thinks of her friends who have kids and how their lives have become utterly consumed by the little humans that require their constant care and attention. There is just so much that Y/N wants to experience and achieve before settling into a life like that.

Not to mention the horrors of pregnancy. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, having to carry a human life inside of you for nine months and then give birth to it. The health complications, the irreversible bodily changes, the sheer, agonizing pain of childbirth.

And yet, on some days, she fantasizes about becoming a mother, of holding a tiny life in her arms and nurturing it into a full-grown adult. An important character in these fantasies has always been the sweet, thoughtful, loving partner by her side who takes equal responsibility for their child. This person was always a faceless individual—an idealistic depiction of the kind of partner Y/N hoped to find someday.

And then Harry came along.

Sweet, thoughtful, loving Harry who, unlike her, was always sure of his desire to have kids. For him, it was never a question of whether he wanted them but a question of when.

That moment finally arrived for him a year ago. But Y/N wasn’t sure if she felt ready yet.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked her one day. “I don’t mean that in a judgemental way. Bringing a child into this world is scary for anyone, including myself. I’m just curious to know what your specific concerns are.”

“Well, there’s the usual stuff, like whether or not I’ll be a good mother—”

“You’ll be a phenomenal mother.”

She smiled at him, then continued, “Or whether my kids will be able to have a good future with so much chaos in the world...” She trailed off hesitantly.

“But there’s something else,” he said, gently urging her to share what was really holding her back.

“I… I’ve always been terrified of the idea of having to raise a child alone, either because something bad happens to the father or he leaves out of the blue or we break up and I’m left to take care of this child by myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I… I’ve never been able to shake this fear.”

“Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. I was raised by a single mother, so I know it’s not an easy job.” He reached for her hand and kissed her knuckle, never breaking eye contact. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You know that, right? We’re in this together. We’re a team, always.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Well, I’m alright with waiting until you feel ready. I want us both to feel ready before we jump into this.”

In the six months following that conversation, the topic would crop up several more times, like after Harry saw her interacting with his godchildren at a party or they walked past a cute baby in a stroller at the grocery store. Y/N didn’t mind discussing the topic. It gave her a chance to ponder and become more comfortable with the concept of motherhood.

Yesterday, Harry returned home from a month-long movie shoot in Sweden. Y/N surprised him by showing up at the airport. What he doesn’t know is that she has another surprise in store for him.

While he was in Sweden, she decided to go off her birth control and now wants to try for kids.

She plans on telling him later tonight once they get home from their friend’s birthday party. They’ve been all over each other tonight. That’s what being apart for a month does to them. Hell, even a week apart is enough to turn them into a couple of horny teenagers that can’t keep their hands off each other.

“You look so hot in that dress,” Harry whispers in her ear, half-joking because they both know this is his fifth time saying that tonight.

Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, a tipsy Y/N whispers back, “I want you to put a baby in me.”

His eyes widen. He chuckles. “That wine bringing out your wild side?”

“I’m serious,” she states, glancing around to double check that no one is within earshot of their conversation. “I went off my birth control a month ago, after you left for Sweden.”

He stares at her blankly, like her words haven’t quite sunk in.

“H, I’m ready to do this.”

“Really?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“We’re doing this,” he says as it finally sinks in. He kisses her wine-stained lips. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N can hardly keep her composure on the way home. Harry appears to be in the same boat, as he keeps sneaking glances at her while driving, his hand caressing her thigh. While he’s always been a responsible driver, she can sense the impatience in his maneuvers tonight.

Once they’re home, it’s almost a race to the bedroom. Harry gently pushes her onto the bed and climbs on top of her.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to watch you walk around in this dress tonight”—he runs a hand down her front—“and not be able to bend you over and just slip my cock into you?”

She moans as he cups her pussy through her dress with a firm hand. He lets her grind against it for a minute before pulling away to take off his clothes. She follows suit.

Soon, they’re back on the bed, sharing another series of ardent kisses. By the time he goes down on her, she’s already dripping wet and he licks it up as if he hasn’t had a drop of water in days. Her hips grind against his tongue like they did against his hand just a moment ago. It doesn’t take her long to orgasm.

He shifts up the bed to hover over her body. He kisses her again while lining up his cock with her entrance. As he slides into her, she feels a slight discomfort from being stretched open for the first time in a month. He pulls out and pushes in a little deeper each time to let her adjust until he fills her up completely and she’s too immersed in pleasure to have a single coherent thought anymore.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to pump in and out. “Gonna come inside you, yeah? Gonna come deep inside your tight little cunt and fill you up, put a baby in you. Is that what you want?”

Those words flip a switch in Y/N’s mind. She makes an involuntary noise that makes it seem like she’s agreeing with him, so he picks up his pace. Just as he finishes inside her, the terrible realization dawns: She is not ready to have a baby. Not at all.

“I love you,” Harry whispers in her ear, his body resting flush against hers as he comes down from his high.

Tears spring to Y/N’s eyes as she realizes what she’s done, what they’ve just done. When she doesn’t reciprocate his statement, he lifts his head to look at her. A tear escapes her left eye at that exact moment.

Concern furrows his brow. “Lovie? Hey, what’s wrong?”

She just shakes her head while staring at the ceiling.

“Y/N.” He caresses her cheek, urging her to look at him. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did I go too—”

“We shouldn’t have done this. It was a mistake,” she says in a trembling voice.

“What are you talking about?”

She tries to sit up. Harry moves out of her way.

“I’m not ready, H. I’m not ready to have a baby.”

His face falls. “I— But— Then why did you say you were ready?”

“I don’t know… To make you happy?” She covers her face and hears him sigh heavily.

“Y/N, you can’t— You can’t lie about things like that just to make me happy. It’s not like we were deciding what to have for dinner. We’re talking about having a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know that. Of course I know that. But I just— I see the disappointment in your face every time we talk about this, every time I tell you I’m not ready. You seem so sad, Harry. I hate it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not able to hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. That still doesn’t mean you should lie to please me. I thought we were past foolish antics like this.”

She squints at him. “Foolish antics?”

He sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like—”

She turns away from him and gets off the bed.

“Y/N.”

She shuts herself in the bathroom. For a brief moment, a part of her resents him. Resents him for being ready to have kids before she was. For bringing it up so often. For making her feel as though she needed to lie about being ready just to make him happy.

But now, as she stares at her teary-eyed reflection in the mirror, she knows she has to take responsibility. She is the one who led him to believe that she was ready when deep down, she knew she wasn’t. He never once pressured her to make up her mind or acted like he loved her any less for not wanting kids yet. He never made her feel any type of way about it. He has done nothing but be the supportive, understanding partner he’s always been. It was her who doubted that. She let her own paranoia get to her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

A few moments later, he knocks again.

“Please, lovie? I’m getting worried.”

Finally, she opens the door. He takes in her red, puffy eyes and tentatively places his arms around her, only pulling her in when she steps into his embrace.

They stand there silently until he says, “Why don’t we head over to the pharmacy and get you a morning after pill?”

She agrees, so they get dressed and head out. The ride to the pharmacy is a quiet one. Every time she glances at Harry, his eyes are focused on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and he appears deep in thought. It’s the complete opposite of their ride home from the party, when he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. She tries to think of ways to break the silence, but nothing feels appropriate. The last time she felt so awkward and unsure about what to say around Harry was when they first started going out and she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

When they get back from the pharmacy, she swallows down the pill with some water and they head back to bed.

***

Y/N: Hey H, you on your way home? Hope you’re hungry, I made your favourite for dinner 😊

H: I have a business dinner tonight. Mentioned it this morning

Y/N: Oh! Sorry I forgot about that. I’ll save some in the fridge for you for tomorrow

H: Sure, thanks

Y/N stares at the message. She can’t tell if she’s reading into things or if Harry’s replies really are as dry and aloof as they sound. Her propensity to overanalyze everything makes it difficult to know. Ever since the incident in the bedroom a few days ago, it feels as though Harry has been avoiding her. Spending long days at the studio, coming home late at night when he knows she’ll be asleep, giving short replies, taking longer to text back. They haven’t had sex again since then either.

After scrutinizing their text conversation for twenty minutes, she comes to her senses and realizes that she can’t keep going on like this. It’s driving her crazy. What she needs to do is talk to him. But he’ll most likely be tired when he gets home.

At first, she thinks she’ll sit him down tomorrow morning and talk it out. But when he walks through the front door just after eleven o’clock that night, she can’t help herself.

She stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea, when he enters. The dark circles under his eyes are noticeable. He has been willing to sacrifice his sleep just to avoid being around her any longer than he has to. Her chest constricts.

“Hey,” he says, placing his phone and keys on the counter. “You’re still up.”

“Can’t sleep.” She stares down into her half-empty mug, the remainder of the tea quickly growing cold.

“How come?”

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“About…?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at him. “About whether or not you’re upset with me and how I can fix it.”

He frowns. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Because of what happened a few nights ago.”

His frown dissolves into something different—sympathy? Guilt?

“Y/N, I’m not upset with you about that.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like it. You’re gone before I’m even awake and you come home when I’m going to bed. We’ve barely talked or kissed or cuddled in the past few days. I know you haven’t been that busy since you got back from Sweden, so… I don’t really see any other explanation.”

He stares at her wordlessly for a long time before speaking. “You’re right. I have been avoiding you. But it’s not because I’m upset with you. It’s because I’m upset with myself. I feel like I pressured you into doing something you obviously weren’t comfortable with. I never saw myself as someone who pressures people into doing things they don’t want to do. So, I suppose I’ve been feeling some shame and guilt about it… and then avoiding you because it’s hard to face these feelings.”

Y/N sets her tea on the counter. She never could’ve guessed that Harry felt this way. She was so convinced that he was mad at her, it didn’t even occur to her that he might just be feeling guilty about it all. After how long she has known him, it should have been obvious that the latter is more consistent with his character, but her anxious brain wouldn’t even let her consider that possibility. She walks over and wraps her arms around him.

“H, I had no idea you felt that way.”

He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on her head. She turns her head to the side so that her cheek is against his chest.

“To be honest, there were times I felt pressured when the topic of kids came up,” she says. “But a lot of that pressure was created by my own fears and insecurities. I just hated disappointing you over and over. I was scared your feelings about me, about us, would change if I kept saying I wasn’t ready.”

“This hasn’t changed how I feel about you or us. Y/N, I want you more than I want kids. Way more. If you decided one day that you don’t want them at all, that still wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

She pulls back to look at him. “Are you sure? That’s a dealbreaker for a lot of people.”

“Well, not for me. Not when it comes to you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, he lifts her up onto the counter and stands between her legs.

“So. What did you get up to today?” he asks, planting a kiss to her collarbone.

She rests her hands on his chest. “Hmm, what did I get up to? I hardly remember anything other than obsessing over this whole situation.” She laughs.

“Aw, lovie, I’m sorry I had you all stressed out.”

“It’s okay.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you. Help you relieve all that stress.” He peppers kisses along the side of her neck and jaw.

She sighs softly and closes her eyes. “I would like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #anxious!reader #my writing

[love-belle]

i'll be loving you for quite some time !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them pretending as if they aren't back together and having just a little bit fun with everyone.

or

for when you know it'll be them till the end. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // lando norris x fem!reader

prequel - i bet you think about me ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hiiii!!!! so sorry for being inactive i have midterms :/// posting rn bc i js couldn't wait!!!! i hope u like this <3 i love u thank u so much for reading <3

tagged @marsdreamworld @luvrrish @ccallistata @eviethetheatrefreak @f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, alex_albon and 689,625 others

yourusername seeing him tonight it's a bad idea right

6,728 comments

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-> charles_leclerc WHY AM I BEING BULLIED

username all the grid is plotting against lando and im here for every second of it

username may god bless the dinosaur that died in order to create the fossil that was processed to fuel that took the car to bring her mom to the hospital to give birth to her

-> yourusername wow

username if she's seeing lando i will SCREAM

username all jokes aside, if they really REALLY broke up then i hope that everyone leaves them alone bc imagine everyone bringing ur ex (the one whom u dated for such a long time) into everything like if i were her that would RUIN me

-> username fr like i love them both but if they really broke up then i hope people leave them alone

username mother is mothering so hard

maxverstappen1 do you not remember what happened the last time?

-> yourusername it wasn't that bad

-> danielricciardo yes it was

-> charles_leclerc yes it was

-> kellypiquet yes it was

-> carlossainz55 yes it was

-> pierregasly yes it was

-> lewishamilton yes it was

-> lilymhe yes it was

-> carmenmmundt yes it was

-> heidiberger_ yes it was

-> yourusername oh my god

-> username LMFAOAOOAOA

-> username bruh the CROWD here rn

username earth is weirdly off it's axis since ur break up pls get back with dad ❤️

username no bc lando better be on all fours if he wants her back like nothing less is VALID

username HER.

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liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 796,426 others

landonorris feels like a taylor swift song

8,728 comments

username LANDO NORRIS WHO IS THAT.

username TOO MUCH TO DISSECT THE LYRICS THE PHOTOS

username THAT'S GOT TO BE Y/N I WILL CRY IF THAT'S NOT HER

username if that's not y/n i will burn down mclaren

-> mclaren fix yourself landonorris

-> landonorris STOP PUTTING ME ON THE SPOT

-> username admin is done with his shit

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username babe wake up new y/n and lando lore js dropped ❤️

danielricciardo interesting choice of photos

-> landonorris thank you ☺️

username i will not sleep until i get answers

username we !! need !! answers !!

username genuinely on the edge of my seat fr like WHATTT

username the lyrics speak VOLUMES

username no bc if this is not y/n i will in SHAMBLES

-> username FRRRR LIKE WDYM MY COMFORT COUPLE ARE OVER

username guys i know it was for funsies before but it's getting a bit silly now 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

-> username fr like y'all can stop pranking us now thank u.

charles_leclerc i hope she leaves you. AGAIN.

-> landonorris what have i ever done to you.

-> charles_leclerc ate my pasta

-> maxverstappen1 no offense but the day someone eats your pasta, it's the pearly gates for them

-> landonorris facts

-> pierregasly never eat charles' pasta

-> alex_albon it's deadly

-> charles_leclerc STOP TALKING ABOUT MY PASTA

-> charles_leclerc lando i hope she dumps you

-> landonorris you taKE THAT BACK

username LANDO WE NEED ANSWERS

username what the fuck is going is

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username no bc that's y/n i don't take any criticism

username where tf are the twitter girlies they need to play detective rn

username lando this is ur last chance at confirming if that's y/n or not or else im hugging a tree at 178 mph

georgerussell63 you don't even listen to taylor swift

-> landonorris i'm a changed man

-> georgerussell63 you're barely a man

-> landonorris BLOCKED

username i live for the grid violating lando at every possible chance

username this has to be illegal they're playing with my blood pressure

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liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, charles_leclerc and 713,729 others

yourusername date night but it's js me telling u about my succulents and my cats

8,137 comments

username DATE NIGHT

username mom r u done with dad be so honest

username WHAT ABOUT YOUR CHILDERN (us)

username stay together for the kids ❤️

username SHE'S SO ANGELIC WHATCTHEBFUCK

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-> yourusername i love u 🤍

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username i am coming for u mclaren

danielricciardo i wasn't aware of you going on a date - lando (PLEASE UNBLOCK ME)

-> yourusername yeah it's js with this loser 💔 (no.)

-> danielricciardo wow and to think i chose your favourite place tonight UNBLOCK ME

-> yourusername no ❤️

-> username PLEASE WHAT IS THIS INTERACTION

-> username they're talking?????? omg??????

-> username not him still being blocked 😭😭😭😭😭

danielricciardo real daniel here please unblock him

-> yourusername lando give daniel his phone back

-> danielricciardo FUCK YOU

-> yourusername this isn't getting u any brownie points

-> danielricciardo I DON'T WANT ANY I WANT YOU BACK

*danielricciardo deleted this comment*

-> username OH I SAW THAT OMG

-> username lando in his redemption era we love to see it

username i love her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username lando im puncturing ur tires

username someone check on how lando's doing

lilymhe gorgeous 🫶🏼 you can talk my ear off any day

-> yourusername lily i ADORE u <3

username lando r u still breathing

username AHAHHHHSHDHDHDHDJDKDKSK

-> username real

username my pronouns are she not her bc i'll never be HER

lewishamilton please unblock him he's about to cry

-> maxverstappen1 tears are welling

-> charles_leclerc he's sniffling

-> carlossainz55 eyes have glossed over

-> oscarpiastri holding them tears at bay right now

-> pierregasly can confirm

-> alex_albon please unblock him

-> georgerussell63 he's genuinely sobbing right now

-> mclaren we can hear the cries

-> yourusername LANDO GIVE EVERYONE THEIR PHONE BACK ISTG

-> scuderiaferrari UNBLOCK ME FIRST

-> username oh this man's DEDICATED

username genuinely in ruins rn

username oh to go on a date with her ❤️

francisca.cgomes love 💌

*liked by yourusername*

username im so.

username ???? DATE ????

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liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, georgerussell63 and 798,528 others

landonorris she's kinda okay

9,728 comments

username WAR IS OVER

username OH MY GOD

username "kinda okay" don't like u weren't in SHAMBLES bc of her

username world is spinning again god bless

username never have i ever felt a sense of relief this immense

username SCREECHING WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

username genuinely speechless rn

charles_leclerc "kinda okay" you cried when she blocked you

-> landonorris OH MY GOD STOP

-> username LMFAOAOAOAO

-> username PLEASE OMG

username im here for every second of this

username YESSSHSHSHSHS

username i just fell to my knees at home depot

username OH MY GOD????????

lewishamilton stop being weepy now x

-> landonorris tell her to stop being mean to me x

-> lewishamilton she said nothing wrong x

-> landonorris SHE CALLED ME A MCDONALD'S CLOWN

-> landonorris x

username THE WAY IM GRINNING RN

username drought is over ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username they got back for ME

lilymhe you break her heart, i'll nail gun yours. got it?

-> landonorris yes ma'am.

-> username lily u will always be famous ❤️

username THEM.

username the biggest sigh of relief js left me

username NAHHH THIS MFS ARE EVIL LIKEE I ALMOST BROKE DOWN BC OF THEM AND THE WHOLE TIME THEY WERE JS SEEING EACH OTHER

-> username bitches (affectionate)

username missed my parents ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭

username LET'S FUCKING GO

username watch lando get a podium at the next race

-> username oh my man's gonna be motivated

alexandrasaintmleux don't make me pull out the 25272828 messages from u saying how much u love me and those ESSAYS u sent me - y/n

-> landonorris first, DON'T do that

-> landonorris second, why are you using alex no. 2's phone?

-> alexandrasaintmleux first, DON'T tell me what to do

-> alexandrasaintmleux second, i'm blocked???

-> alexandrasaintmleux please don't call me alex no. 2 - alex

-> landonorris first, noted

-> landonorris second, i unblocked you???

-> landonorris sorry alexA force of habit

-> alexandrasaintmleux oh

-> username nah they forced my girl alex to sign off as "alex" on her OWN acc 😭😭😭😭

-> username PLEASE WHAT IS THIS CONVO

-> username the two things i've inferred from above are 1) y/n is not blocked on lando's acc she js chooses to comment from other ppl's phone and refuses to elaborate and 2) lando calls alexandra alex no. 2

-> username this is a WILD place to be

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by kellypiquet, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,152 others

yourusername yeah i'll be loving u for quite some time or whatever taylor swift said (❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

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liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, danielricciardo and 825,826 others

landonorris happier than ever

11,638 comments

username LANDO NORRIS U ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE

username nah not him using the same caption that he used to shade her

-> username it's almost poetic in a way

username I JUST SCREECHED WHAT THE FUCK

username WAR IS OVER 😭😭😭😭😭😭

username the way i collapsed omg

username THE CAPTION HELP??????

username this is life altering

charles_leclerc not a funny caption

-> landonorris have a sense of humour

-> charles_leclerc i have you as a friend and you're a joke so, i do, in fact, have a sense of humour

-> landonorris you're getting reported for that

-> username LMFAOAOAOAO

-> username PLEASE OMG

username im sooooo here for this

username brb checking if my toaster is waterproof or not

-> username i'll join u!!

username SCREECHING OH MY GOD

username i feel like i've js managed to make two toddlers quit fighting and feel like such a proud parent

-> danielricciardo that's exactly how we feel

-> heidiberger_ so true

-> maxverstappen1 absolutely

-> kellypiquet they were worse than actual kids

-> sebastianvettel they're stubborn

-> scuderiaferrari the amount of times we've had to stop y/n from smashing his car is insane

-> mclaren we had to stay indoors with locked doors scuderiaferrari

-> susie_wolff it was horrible

-> landonorris every single one of you is horrible

-> carmenmmundt fuck u all i hope u step on a lego - y/n

-> landonorris FOR THE LAST TIME YOU'RE NOT BLOCKED yourusername

-> carmenmmundt idc

username life has meaning again

username omg

username THE WEEKND LYRICS OH MY GOD

-> username im folded

username SCREAMING IM SOOOO HAPPY

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username they're actually so taylor swift coded it's INSANE

username brb gonna cry some more

username i used to PRAY for this

danielricciardo could've chosen a different caption - y/n

-> landonorris IT'S THE THOUGH THAT COUNTS

-> danielricciardo terrible thought

-> landonorris i take it back

-> danielricciardo ❤️

danielricciardo this is sweet

-> landonorris thank you

danielricciardo I LOVE YOU

-> landonorris I LOVE YOU MOREEE

danielricciardo bf

-> landonorris gf

-> username what in the world am i witnessing

-> username shh js look away

-> username what in the dando i just witnessed

-> username NOT DANDO OH MY GOD

username sleepover on highway !!!!!!!!!!!!!

username im sooooOOOOooo normal about this (!!!!!!!!!!!)

username ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo nice jacket in the last slide

-> landonorris yeah it'll look even better on your floor

-> danielricciardo mate what the actual fuck

-> landonorris NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

-> landonorris WHERE'S Y/N

-> danielricciardo SHE GAVE ME MY PHONE BACK

-> landonorris OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY

-> heidiberger_ wow

-> yourusername i guess it's js us now heidiberger_

-> heidiberger_ ❤️❤️❤️

-> landonorris NOW YOU CHOOSE TO BE ON YOUR OWN ACCOUNT yourusername???

-> yourusername yes ❤️

-> username this is CRAZY

-> username i genuinely have a whiplash

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris insta au #lando norris fluff #lando norris au #lando norris blurb #lando norris

[ed-wwarren]

Being the new guy in a new town was the worst. Even with all the experience Ed had with it, nothing ever got any easier. It didn’t help that he was dirt poor and could hardly afford shoes that didn’t have at least one hole in them.

His dad was an expert at gambling what little money they had away, pissing people off he owed money to, and then picking up and moving. Running away. It had been like this for as long as Ed could remember, this small town of Bridgeport, Connecticut the longest they had stayed in one place. A whole year now. What a record.

He always wondered if the past seventeen years of his life would have been different…better…if his mother hadn’t died giving birth to him.

Would he have been happy? Would his father?

Everything was his fault. Ed had felt for the longest time, and it didn’t help that his father said this to him daily, that he was responsible for killing his mom. He was a murderer at the tender age of one second old. He ruined his family before he could even walk and that thought kept him up at night.

That thought crossed his mind a lot, especially in times like these when he was alone and walking to school in the mornings. He felt alone and scared a lot of the time. Scared about what the future would hold. He had no one except his best friend Johnny but what was he supposed to do? Johnny was in the same boat as Ed as far as finances went and neither one of them had any plans for the future other than to somehow graduate high school.

The one thing Ed knew for sure as he walked up the stairs to the school doors, past the rich asshole kids who didn’t have a problem in life, he did not want to end up like his father. A broke, miserable drunk. He needed to start seriously thinking about what he was going to do with his life. Graduation was right around the corner, he already had a bag packed and hidden under his bed. When he graduated and turned eighteen, he was gone. Him and Johnny would move to New York maybe. Try to find a place there.

For now, he had first period English to look forward to.

@giftedclairvoyance

[chososdiscordkitten]

Lord Choso Kamo.

Synopsis: bridgerton au- 22 yrs old nd have yet to marry, only to be set up in an arranged marriage to Choso ^-^

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader Content: no use of y/n nor readers appearance, Choso is 26, enemies (on one side) to lovers, reader is sharp tongued and stubborn, plotttttt booooo, just a niche fic I couldnt stop thinking about ^-^, catered for a very specific audience, if you get it- YOU GET IT.

Presented to society at seven and ten. One of the many young potential brides. 

You had asked your mother to allow you to wait a few years- focus on your studies instead of marrying you off. As lacking in presence as your father was, even he said, ‘Absolutely not.’

The first year had a handful of potential husbands. But none of them could nack your witty remarks towards them. Causing your second year to have an even less amount of suitors.

The second year, you were already deemed a spinster by your parents. Attending balls and only sitting on the sidelines in the very same gowns you've worn before- only ever seeing it as a meaningless affair. Only present to watch the other young ladies receive marriage offers before you did. 

By the time you were two and twenty, your mother and father saw you and saw a sort of disappointment. An only child- raised and trained for marriage- and refusing to let go of the silly notion of going through life unmarried. 

They blamed you- but in reality it was a mix of their inability to keep up with the fashions of the seasons. Having to re-wear dresses didn’t help you in the situation either. That and the lack of an eye-catching dowry. Seemed as though no man wanted to marry a woman with a mere four figure dowry, no matter how beautiful. 

One afternoon, as you read a book in the drawing room, you sat on the couch lazily, wearing a day dress that you deemed obsolete—dressing up for no one but the servants and your mother. 

And your mama spouting- “I do not know why you insist on filling your mind with nonsense.” Pacing back and forth a few feet from you. 

Causing you to lower your book and look at her with pursed lips. “It is not nonsense, mama,” you snipped, lining up your eyes with the words again. “It is Shakespeare.” you muttered, a small smile curling on your lips at the look on your mother’s face. 

She was about to start speaking again- only your father walked into the room with an unaccustomed smile on his lips. Almost exasperated, “And what is it you have to smile about, my lord?” your mother scoffed, sitting on the couch across from you with a sigh. 

“I have found a proper suitor for your daughter,” he said, causing your shoulders to tense and your book to lower in disbelief. 

“I am your daughter as well- father.” you scoffed. Lightly pinching the bridge of your nose and sitting up. 

The gleam that shone on your mother’s eyes was one you hoped you’d never see. “Who?” she asked, breathless and eager to see who would finally take you from their hands. 

Your father flashed his eyes to you, almost worried for the words that dared spill from his lips- “The lord Kamo.” 

You closed your eyes with a soft sigh. You had been appropriately raised to not talk back to your father, but the vein that pulsed in your mind when he said that name almost made you snap at him. 

Lord Choso Kamo. 

To others, just another lord without a bright and shiny title. Firstborn son and heir of the Kamo name, his mother gave birth to 8 more boys- all one year apart. And on the eighth, his mother died. 

His father remarried within the year, speculated with a woman he had an affair with when his mother was still alive. Giving Choso one last little brother. 

And to you, three years your senior. Choso was a playful child growing up. Chasing you around- stepping on your shoes and stealing your ribbons at the various balls you would attend with your mother. 

But somewhere around the time his father died, he became more serious. Now head of the Kamo family at a mere five and ten, he grew taller and more serious-faced. And no longer picked fun at you, nor chased you around. If anything, he ignored you. 

Even as a child, you had developed a special kind of disdain towards him. Seeing him as an ill-raised boy, blamed for his misdeeds by your mother. “But mama- he is the one who chases me!” you would defend when she would pull you away by the arm. 

And in your teen years- you would avoid him like a plague. Holding your head high as your eyes looked over at him- his eyebrows, thick and furrowed with severe eyes scanning the ballroom. 

You disliked Choso not only for his actions as a child but also because he had a dismissive aura when it came to these balls—and when it came to you now, apparently. Far too mature and busy to even hold a conversation with you now. 

Only once when you were four and ten did you approach him. Standing much taller than you at seven and ten, hands behind his back with a stern look in his eye.

Choso stood near the far wall of the ballroom, his eyes scanning the lively room for his little brothers. To make sure they did not stain his legacy even further than his father had. 

“I think you owe me a dance, my lord,” you spoke, standing beside him but not bothering to look over at him, dressed in a dark plum suit, a color he had taken a liking to at his coming of age.

His face churned in confusion, “Owe you a dance? Whatever for.” he spoke- improper and uncaring of this supposed debt you imposed onto him. 

“For stealing my ribbons and stepping on my shoes.” tilting your head slightly, so sure you were correct. 

He only scoffed, walking away from you and collecting his rowling brother. 

Choso’s coldness against you was upsetting. Not because you wanted his friendship but because of how improper and indifferent he was when it came to you. Not even bidding a goodbye before walking off.

In the third year you were on the market, you stood beside him once more—you, freshly twenty, and he, three and twenty. Thinking if no other man would have you, who was the Lord to deny you?

It was not as though he was the worst man of the bunch. A decent name, a decent fortune- and a better-looking face than most suitors. His only flaw was how standoffish he could be and how improper he was with you.

Yet still. You gave the man one last chance.

“You still owe me a dance, my Lord,” you spoke, watching the people dance at the center of the room. Choso looked over to you, quickly scanning the light pink gown you wore that evening, surely to attract a suitor.

Your gaze caught the bags below his eyes, a side effect of the late nights spent in his study with only candlelight illuminating the mess of books his late father left him. And his long hair tied back, giving you an unobstructed view of his strong jaw.

“Should you not be looking for a husband?” he spewed, looking back at the dancing crowd and lightly widening his eyes. Unable to see the youngest sibling he was watching. 

You let out an unamused laugh, “That is what I am doing, is it not?” looking over at him with a pleased expression. 

“No, you are talking to me-” he murmured. Walking off and trying to find the pink-haired sibling with a penchant for wandering off. 

After that, you swore never to speak to him again. There was a spark of hatred in your heart when you saw his stupid, serious face at the balls. And when his eyes caught on yours, you would look away, uncaring if people saw. If anything, you wanted people to see your dislike for that brinking-on beastly man. 

So when your father said that he- Lord Choso Kamo was to be your husband, you almost hemorrhaged on the spot. 

You did not speak to your father for three days and two nights. At the dinner table, you stayed silent. Picking at your food and avoidant of any conversation. And your mother held more than enough excitement for you both. Planning the flowers, the gown- all before the Lord even proposed. 

And when your father grew tired of your silence- he shouted at you to speak. 

You bowed your head, tears in your eyes—“Please,” you said in a tone of voice you had not used since you were a girl. Peering your eyes up at him, full of salt water and a weary lip. You said, “Please, do not make me marry that man, father.” 

Though your papa was generally uncaring when it came to what you felt. The way you looked at him- he saw a glimmer of his little girl in your eyes. The same little girl that would cling to his leg, scared of the strangers he would present her to. 

Your father took your hands in his- and you were so sure he would call it off. 

“I will allow you a two-week courting period.” He whispered, watching the tears spill from your eyes. “You must marry him,” he spoke your name softly. 

It wasn’t until the following day you heard your father speaking to your mother- the stoic man practically in shambles at the thought of using his only daughter as a form of paying his debts. 

Before the late Lord Kamo passed, your father owed him a substantial amount of money. A debt your father was still unsure how he would pay. And the news of Choso’s father's death washed over your papa as a wave of relief.

So when a six and twenty-year-old Lord Kamo wrote to your father- something along the lines of; ‘I have in my late father’s books that you owed him an undisclosed sum of money. I would like to discuss this face to face-’

Your father thought up a million things—selling off the silverware, the dresses, and letting go of the staff—but it didn’t amount to half as much as he owed. 

So when your father met up with the young Lord Kamo at a gentleman's club, he was far too inebriated. Drinking to fill the uncomfortability he felt with the severity Choso imbued in his words. 

“It is my understanding you have yet to marry?” your father spoke- glass half empty in his hand as he looked at the brown-haired man before him. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the drunk man and squinting. “I have yet to.” 

“Then the matter is settled. You may have—*hic* My daughter,” he said, thralling his arm around Choso’s shoulder with a happy smile. “She is well-read. And you have been friends since youth, have you not?” 

Choso parted his lips to speak—“Phenomenal!” your father said, “We will discuss the technicalities later,” ending the conversation and continuing to another topic. 

In Choso’s mind, he knew the impending task of finding a wife had run at him at full speed. And rather than slotting through the many carefully primped young ladies, Choso found peace in knowing if he should have to marry, let it at least be you who he does. 

The least objectionable option. Finding it revolting how the many mamas would peddle their overly young daughters to grown men. Be it you- three years his junior and knowing you far better than he would know any of them. 

And when your mother advised you that the Lord Kamo had asked to see you- you felt a pool of nerves and unease form in your tummy. Knowing that the two-week period your father had granted you, would begin the minute, he would come see you. 

Your mother mulled over what you were to wear when he would visit. Trying to find the best option- an option that would make your beauty distracting enough to ignore your sharp tongue. 

“Mama, I’ve already told you- he is not interested in marriage” you insisted- your mother ordering you to hold a dress against your body. 

“Hush up.” she insisted, causing you to sigh. 

Tossing a light pink chiffon gown onto your bed- “I have known him since I was a child- mama, he knows what I am like.” sitting onto your bed with a scoff, “A frilly gown I’ve worn before won’t change his opinion on me.” 

Your mother shouted your name- “Your father has said that he already agreed- mouthy and far too mature as you are. Lord Kamo has agreed to marry you.” she insisted. Making your mind reel at the possibility that he only agreed to vex you, knowing him.

As your ladies maid fixed your hair- looking into the mirror and thinking of your foiled plans. Plans that had been entirely derailed simply because the Lord said ‘yes’ to marrying you. 

And as you sat in the drawing room- back slouched and a bored look on your face. Your mother did not hesitate to slap your back when the footman walked in “The Lord Kamo, to see you- my lady.” he directed at you. 

Straightening your back- fixing your face as you watched the man stand at the doorway. Flowers in hand and with his hair pushed behind his ears. Unfurrowed eyebrows and nervous eyes looking at you. 

You rose to your feet, “My lord.” you exasperated, lowering in a half-assed curtsey as he slightly bowed. 

“My lady.” he spoke- almost unsure and far too formal for the relationship you had with him. 

You clenched your jaw looking at him- your mother leaning to your ear, “Be kind, and smile.” she instructed through clenched teeth. Sitting at a tea table a few paces from the couch you were sitting on. 

Choso took a step towards you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he mumbled- yet another thing you disliked about him. He spoke unclear words far too often. 

You plastered a false smile on your lips, reaching for them- “Thank you. My lord.” dropping the smile and holding them out for your ladies’ maid to take them. Thinking of a snide comment, only laughing softly to yourself at- ‘make sure to leave them in the sun till next week.’ you said in your mind. 

“Did I say something funny?” he asked- watching you sit onto the couch and following you. 

You eased your expression. “No, unfortunately you didn’t.” you spit. Hearing a slight cough come from your mother, reminding you to be kind.

Choso parted his lips to speak- “May I ask you why you agreed to marry me?” you interrupted- a hushed tone so your mother would not scold you. Eyebrows stern and determined to know his reasonings. 

The Lord squinted his eyes slightly with a furrowed brow. “I have yet to ask for your hand?” he queried- as though you had the answers that you, yourself, were looking for. 

“My father says you agreed to marry me in two weeks.” deadpan face looking at his confused one. 

The corner of the Lord’s lip curled, “Your father was drunk when he struck that deal.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked off to the side. “So you do not wish to marry me.” you stated rather than asked. So eager to hear the words- ‘I do not want to marry you.’

“I did not say that.” 

You almost groaned in frustration at his words. Only your twitchy eye went unnoticed by the man sitting before you. “Then?” you pressed, pursed lips and squinty eyes awaiting his declaration- or an excuse. 

“I am reaching the age to take a bride.” he started, bordering on a mumble that only frustrated you even more. 

“And why not take on a well-behaved child bride-”

Choso’s expression churned in a flash of disgust. “I did not choose you,” he spoke your name in a whisper. Improper as ever- not even using your family name with a simple ‘miss’ before it. 

You blinked harshly at your name callously spoken as though you were already wed. 

“Your father offered-”

“And you accepted.” 

“Because I have known you since I was a boy.” he defended, “I found marrying you to be simpler than carding through the many eligible young-” you sighed at his droning on. Giving you every excuse besides the one you wanted to hear. 

“You also said 'yes' to this union, did you not?” he asked. You looked off to the side, scoffing at his assumption. 

Intertwining your fingers together and pursing your lips, “This union is everyone’s choice but mine.” you muttered. Looking down to your hands with a frustrated look on your face. 

Choso called your name again- this time in worry. Making the vein in your temple pulse from his improper tendencies. “If you do not want to marry- I will not force you to.” 

“You do not know a thing.” you spouted, causing your mother to look up from the embroidery cloth to see why you were seething in your words. And Choso only smiled at your mother, assuring her it was okay. 

Clearing your throat- standing from the couch and urging him to do the same. “I think it’s time for you to take your leave, my lord.” You spoke- hearing your mother stand. 

“Can’t you stay for tea?” she asked- only for Choso to look at you. Mouthing a soft ‘No,’ instructing him to assure your mother that was not necessary. 

The next time Choso saw you was at a ball. You stood near a wall, a pondering look on your face, an unsipped glass of lemonade in hand, and an empty dance card on your wrist. 

Looking off as though you were physically here- but your mind was elsewhere. 

The Lord came up to you for the first time since he was seven. Calling your name in a mutter and pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Yes, my lord?” you spoke- refusing to turn and look at him. 

He inhaled sharply, “Have you thought more on-”

“It is all I think about these days.” 

Choso tried thinking back on the lessons he was taught as a boy- how to approach a lady and how to ask for a dance. 

He parted his lips to speak- “What is it you want, my lord?” you asked, interrupting his attempts to communicate with your tone bordered on frustration. 

“I owe you a dance, do I not,” speaking your name with the same thoughtlessness as he always held. You sighed, placing your glass on the table beside you. 

Looking over at him with a peaked brow, “Why is it now you want to dance? Not once have you ever shown interest before.” 

He scoffed softly, “I aim to court you- dancing is part of it, is it not?”

You let out an unamused laugh, “If dancing meant courting- you declined that proposition long ago, my lord.” taking a sarcastic tone, holding your head high as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

Unknowing what you were talking about, Choso squinted his eyes. “Why do you speak to me in that tone?” he looked over at you, trying to recall if he had insulted you or even done something to warrant your curt behavior. 

You sighed harshly, bored of this conversation- and irritated that Choso had the guts to ask that. “My mother is summoning me-” Trying to find an escape from this conversation; you chose to lie. 

Turning to face him, pursed lips and your jaw slightly clenched, “Good evening, my lord.” you spat, his eyes widening and scoffing. 

As you turned to walk away, he called your name- loud enough for more than enough people to turn their heads to the source. Seeing you still in Choso's presence, his face troubled as he looked at the back of your head. 

The control you had in not turning around and snapping at the man, was control you weren’t sure you held. You only breathed in a small breath and continued your steps, hearing the Lord step behind you as you walked out of the ballroom. 

Nodding your head 'no' as you stepped onto the terrace- breathing in the crisp evening air and clenching your jaw. Your name was spoken again, in the same uncaring tone he always held when he referred to you. 

“If I have done something to offend you-” You turned around swiftly, angered by the face before you and your eye threatening to twitch. 

“If? If you have done something?” you scoffed, finding it unbelievable that he didn’t even know what he did wrong. Choso turned his head, awaiting your explanation as your gloved hands balled into fists at your side.  

Choso parted his lips to speak, your name falling from his lips carelessly, making you even more upset. “Please, tell me if I have done something wrong.” The urgency in his tone fell on deaf ears. 

“I do not wish to speak of this any longer-” you muttered, “My Lord.” you gritted, a breath leaving his lips at the name. 

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” he lightly grimaced, cringing every time you’ve ever referred to him as that. 

The control you held slipping from the satin covering your fingers. “Because it is polite—something you do not harbor,” you spat, shivering at the crisp breeze brushing against your arms. 

Choso furrowed his eyebrows- even more confused than before at your proclamation. You scoffed- “Do not pretend you are unaware of what I speak of.” your chest puffing and slightly spilling from the top of your gown. 

You abandoned the topic, knowing he would only look at you with the same stupid expression in wait for you to further elaborate. 

Turning away from Choso and placing your hands on the balcony’s edge, sighing softly before a smile crept onto your lips. 

“We have yet to marry, and we are arguing already,” you whispered, looking out into the gardens with a pummeling headache. 

Choso sighed, his face troubled. “I’ve already told you—if this marriage is not of your will, I shall decline your father.” 

You breathed a sharp exhale from your nose at his claim, knowing it was not up to you nor him. It was a duty your own father entrusted to you. 

“It is of my will.” you muttered, hearing his footsteps creep beside you. Looking out to the same view as you. 

“Then why is it you hold such disdain for me?” he whispered, looking to the side of your face in worry. 

Dropping the veil of anger to answer his question in earnest. “Do you remember when we were children? And you would chase me around the Easter gardens?” you asked, taking a softer tone and looking to the very same gardens below you. 

“Or when you would step on my freshly polished shoes- or steal the ribbons of my hair?” Looking back to him with a soft expression- watching his face churn to a pensive one. 

A small smile formed on your lips, “I was able to forgive all of that- but when I was ten and four, you declined my offer for a dance.” your mouth in taught purse, watching his lips part to defend himself. 

“And when I was twenty, I offered again.” the corner of your lip curling in disbelief, “And you declined- again.” 

“This is all because I refused to dance with you?” Choso asked in a half laugh. 

You huffed a smile, “No, not because you declined my offers for dancing, my lord.” clenching your teeth and the seething below your skin burning in your cheeks. “Because after all of that- you somehow managed to foil my plans for the future.” 

Sighing in a straggled breath, “After all of that- you agreed to marry me. And go on as though we have been friends since childhood.” You nodded in disappointment. 

“But we have been-” Choso stated in almost a question. 

“You bullied me in childhood. We are not friends.” You spat in a whisper, turning and taking a step away. Only for his hand to grasp onto your clothed forearm, holding you back with an amused expression. 

“Bullied?” he asked in a surprised tone. “If anyone was a bully- it was you,” speaking your name and looking at your angered expression. 

Choso loosened his grip on your arm, “Do you not recall? When you would pull my ears or push me?” he smiled, remembering the memories he held fondly. 

“Or when I would call you 'my lady'- and you would snap at me? Tell me that was not your name- and that you were no lady?” he scoffed with an earnest smile. You furrowed your eyebrows, barely able to remember the memory he was referring to. 

“If I am so horrible- why did you agree to marry me?” you whispered, the smile on his face only growing in the slightest. 

His cheeks slightly flushed and daring to inch closer to you. “I do not find you horrible,” the tone he took when saying your name made your own cheeks threaten to warm. “I never have.” he smiled. 

Watching your tight expression soften, you parted your lips slightly. Darting your eyes back to the ballroom and seeing a pair of debutants whispering whilst looking through the doors. 

You cleared your throat, taking a step back and exhaling a shaky breath. Choso furrowed his eyebrows and looked over to where you had looked, “A dance, my lady?” he offered his hand out to you. 

You took it with a sigh, what you interpreted as anger filling your cheeks. Allowing him to guide you back to the ballroom. 

A hand on your waist and other holding yours, taking precise steps as your eyes avoided his. Thinking of a way to break the tension without stuttering. “If you insist on marrying me- I ask we speak of agreements beforehand,” you expressed, avoiding the gaze Choso held on you. 

His hand guiding you into a waltz, “Agreements?” he murmured, snapping your eyes back to him and nodding. 

“Yes, agreements. Discuss what shall happen if we marry.” you reiterated, keeping a stern brow and ignoring the wisp of a smug expression on his face. 

Choso lightly smiled, “Very well.” he murmured again, making you nod your head no with heat rising in your cheeks. 

“Bring freesias for my mother- and stop mumbling.” you seethed, watching his smile deepening as he heard your demands. 

-

(a.n) sooo niche and I overindulged I know, but I don't CARE.

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso jjk #choso jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #kamo choso #choso #choso x you #choso my beloved #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #choso x chubby reader #jujutsu choso #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader imagines #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[redheadspark]

Lullaby

Summary - Azriel's mate gives birth, and Azriel's life is forever changed.

Author's note- I love the great response from the one-shot Trust, so I decided to write another little oneshot about Azriel, Reader, and little Alec on the day he was born! Enjoy

Azriel knew he was making tracks on the floor at this point, but there was no way he was going to stop now.  His mind was racing and his feet were carrying him.  Back and forth, back and forth.  His shadows were even trying to catch up with him as he was thinking all of the worst things that could happen.  The sun's early misting rain was outside the tall windows of The House of Wind, the howling wind from the tall mountains was heard sightly while Azriel was going back and forth in front of the tall windows.  On a good day, there would be a marvelous view of Velaris, but not today.

Not on the day his wife went into labor.

A strangled cry was heard behind the double doors, Azriel stopping at his pace as he heard your cry of pain and his eyes trained on the doors.  It’s been at least three hours since Madja arrived, bag in hand, and abruptly pushed Azriel out the door without a second glance.  Azriel wanted to be in there with you, to hold your hand and bring you comfort since he knew you were going to be in insane pain.  But then again, he would have to go against Madja who has had more medical and healing experience than anyone he has known in his life.  All he could now was wait, wait for either the best or the worst.

He made a plan for this day, when you were about 7 months along he wanted to make a concrete plan for the birth of his unborn child.  Others must have thought of him as insane since he had a detailed itinerary from where the birth would take place and with whom in attendance.  It was working out perfectly for him since he knew most of the Inner Circle would be a simple contact away if things went left.  Of course, Azriel wouldn’t want to think about the scenario if things might go wrong, but he had to since not everything would go according to plan.

Cassian and Nesta were on their honeymoon up in the mountains, and Elaine and Lucien were in Autumn Court, which left Rhysand, Feyre, and Nyx at the River House for some quality family time.  You and Azriel were requested to housesit the House of Wind for Cassian and Nesta while they were away, you both not minding staying in the large home for a few days while you were getting slower and slower in your walking.  As your stomach grew bigger by the day, Azriel’s worries for you were growing as well.

He knew the tales of Illyrian childbirth, how brutal it was, and how unmerciful it could be.  Some children were born stillborn, their little bodies were not able to handle the birth.  Many mothers died in childbirth, mainly because their bodies would give out from all the body would endure.  Your own mother died giving birth to you, robbing you of your time and love from your birth mother.  Azriel vowed to not let that happen to you, you were far too precious and too important for him to have taken away.  Being the main source of light in his very dark world, you brought him bountiful happiness and never ending love that he felt as though he never deserved.  

To think of a world without that love, without you, would kill Azriel.  

Rhysand talked with him a week before, sensing that Azriel was beyond worried and scared for both you and your child.  He sat Azriel down at your little home while you were napping, the pair of them sitting out on the front porch as Azriel was venting to him all that was on his mind.  Although he knew it was his burden to hold onto, Rhysand was someone safe for him to talk to.

“You cannot let these thoughts overwhelm you, Az,” Rhysand said to him as he watched Azriel with concern, “Those demons and nightmares you’re having will kill you from the inside out if you let it.  Your wife and child are going to be fine, and you will have your family,”

“How do you know?” Azriel asked in a mumble, Rhysand reaching over to tap his leg with his fingers.  Azriel’s hazel eyes were met with violet ones, along with a soft smile.

“Because you and your wife, my cousin, deserve to have a family.  You two deserve it more than anyone I know, and you will have it,”

Now you were in labor, your water breaking abruptly while you two were still sleeping in one of the guest rooms in The House of Wind, and Azriel could feel through the bond that you were struggling.  He felt the pain, so intense and almost mind-numbing, as well as uncertainty and a hint of fear.  It made him worry all the more, trying to communicate through the bond to you.

I’m here, baby.  I’m here He thought through the bond, hoping and praying to The Cauldron that you were okay from the otherside of the double doors.

Azriel….It hurts so bad, Az!  Your voice was in pain, almost struggling to speak as Azriel tried to remain calm.  

The sudden sound of wings was heard right outside the window, Azriel’s head snapping over to see none other than Rhysand and Feyre bursting through the doors that lead to the balcony.  He sighed in relief, seeing the High Lord and High Lady there for him and his wife. 

“Azriel, thank The Cauldron!  How is she doing?” Feyre asked, but another blood-curdling scream was heard from the room where you were in.  This scream was brutal, almost like torture.  Azriel squinted at the sound, it was almost painful for him too.  All three of them look, Azriel’s face growing pale as Rhysand clasped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  

“Let’s get you a drink,” he urged Azriel, about to pull him away and distract him when another cry was heard.  A new cry, smaller and yet distinct.  It made everyone in the room freeze in shock, Azriel’s eyes went wide as he was staring at the doors. 

It was the sound of a newborn baby.

Azriel’s heart was suddenly beating so fast that he felt it against his chest in a dull ache.  His hands were shaking and felt beyond clammy as the newborn cry was echoing from the room, but to him, it was a beautiful sound.  It was the sound of his child, coming into the world, was one of his new favorite sounds in the world.  

“Cauldron..” Rhysand said in relief as one of the doors swung open abruptly. 

“Shadowsinger, you better get in here!” It was Madja, and Azriel’s feet were moving before he realized.  He was gliding over, that’s how fast he was going, and once he made it past the open door, he stopped in shock from the sight.

You were perched in the bed, bathed in sweat with your long thick hair in a braid that was over your shoulder and the nightgown you wore in plastered against your body as blankets were bunched against your stomach and covering you from the hips down.  Towels were askew, some covered in blood, and others were perched in the massive tub of hot water that was near the bed.  Azriel breathed in the scents of blood and sweat, seeing you faintly smile at him from the bed as Madja walked over to him with a bundle in her arms.   His heart raced, his eyes were solely on the bundle that was wiggling.

“Here is your son,” Madja said to him as she placed the bundle in Azriel’s shaking arms.  He lost his breath, looking at the small little being that was there and that was wiggling.  Nothing else ceased to exist to him, nothing else was coming to his mind, and everything was blank and empty.  All of his months of worry and wonder, of hope and uncertainty, were replaced by seeing the newborn.

His newborn.  His son.  Azriel had a son.

“You tend to him as I tend to your wife,” Madja said in a huff, walking away from Azriel before he could say anything to her.  He tore his eyes away from his son to you, seeing you grimace a bit while Madja was digging through her bag that was on the nightstand.  His concern grew.

“I-Is she alright?” He asked in a croak, about to walk over to you before Madja pulled out new herbs and tonics.

“Worn to the bone but healthy.  You have a strong wife, Shadowinger, and your babe is just as strong as she is,” Madja explained as she mixed some herbs together with ease, “She’ll need to get clean and have plenty of rest, but nothing else to worry about.”

“Thank you, Madja,” you said in a breath as she handed you a concoction to drink.  Azriel was relieved to know that you were safe and unharmed, feeling through the bond that you too were relieved and happy.  His heart was filled from the sight of you alive, though he was interrupted by the gurgles and coos from his son.  He tore his eyes from you back to your son. 

He was so small in Azriel’s embrace, but he was instantly in love with the little boy.  The tan skin, the dark mop of hair on his head, and the very small set of wings that were along the tiny backside.  There was no blemish on the little one that Azriel could see, the round cheeks he had along with the eyelashes and the plump bell-shaped lips.  Everything about this baby, this little being that was a mixture of Azriel and his mate, it was all perfect.  Azriel never saw a more beautiful creature in his life, and he couldn’t help but feel fresh tears in his Spymaster orbs.

This moment was new etched in his mind, a massive and pure memory that he knew he would never forget in his lifetime.  There were plenty of moments in his past, both good and bad, that he would remember from time to time.  His softer memories with his mother, meeting Cassian and Rhysand for the first time, Seeing your blue eyes and falling in love with you, your first kiss together under the stars.  Those memories were core to him, they helped him come out of the darkness and into the light that was always waiting for him.

And now, the new core memory of holding his newborn son would forever change him.  

Azriel carefully traced his son’s cheek with one of his scarred fingers, seeing how instantly his son was calm and content from the touch of his father.  It made Azriel’s heart soar, watching his son almost nuzzle into the touch with ease as Madja hummed and walked over to him with waiting hands. 

“There, now let me have the babe and check him thoroughly.  You tend to your wife and get her changed,” Madja instructed, Azriel reluctantly handing his son back over, “I’ll need to check his wings if they were damaged from the birth.  But by the color of him and his cries, he seems to be healthy. “

With a heavy heart, Azriel moved away from his son and Madja, who walked over to the end of the bed that wasn’t messed with blankets.  His eyes stayed on the child, though he moved over to you as you were waiting for him with an outstretched hand.  Azriel took it, kissing the back of it and sighing in relief seeing color on your face and a grin to match.

“Thank Cauldron you’re alright,” he said in relief, sighing in your sweaty hair as he embraced you carefully on the bed.  You held him close,  breathing in his scent as he peppered your face with kisses and his tears hitting your cheeks, “I was thinking the worst…and I felt it in the bond,”

“It was worth it,” you sighed as he pulled away and watched you, “Every single amount of pain I felt was worth it…he was worth it all,”

You both heard the gurgles from your son, Madja checking his temperature and then looking over his limbs.  Azriel could see the small wings that looked so fresh and new along the tan backside.  They were so small, but he knew deep down that over time they would be massive and filled with strength.  

Just like his parents.

“Come on, baby.  Let’s get you a shower,” Azriel urged as he helped you swing your legs over the side of the bed.  With an arm along your backside, he helped you on your feet.  You were still sore, though it was slowly melting away thanks to both the tonics from Madja and your own Illyrian strength.  You were still taking your time to the bathroom that was attached to the room, the House instantly turned on the shower with the right temperature and pressure.  

Azriel helped you strip down and eased you into the shower first before he stripped down and joined you.  Although intimate, given the two of you bare and holding one another under the water, it felt more than that for you two.  It felt like another chapter was unfolding for you both Azriel was washing you down with gentleness and care, another stepping stone in your life that you both would take together while he washed your hair with his fingers.  You felt his love in his fingers and along his lips as he kissed your skin, showering you with affection for not only giving him a son but for also not leaving him alone in this world.  

You were part of his soul, as he was part of yours.  

Finally, after getting you cleaned and changed into fresh clothes thanks to the magic of the House, Azriel changed quickly back into his old clothes and ushered you back into the bedroom.  The old sheets and towels were gone, fresh sheets were made on the bed with new fluffy pillows and the window was ajar to bring in the fresh air.  Madja once again was holding your swaddled newborn, a big smile on her face.

“You have a healthy babe,” She said as she walked over to place him in your arms.  You took him softly, seeing how he was blinking slowly to show the bright blue eyes that he inherited from you.  Seeing him there, in your arms, after being inside of you for so many months, it was almost like a fever dream.  But he was there, breathing in the same air as you, and you felt your heart grow bigger from the sight of your son.  

“There’s nothing wrong with him?” Azriel asked as you were still watching your son, seeing his eyes blink again as his finger clenched and unclenched in a constant rhythm.  

“Nothing out of the ordinary for an Illyrian babe.  He’s small, but the lungs on him tell me he’ll be just fine,” Madja explained while he was packing her bag up.  She then pointed at you with a singular finger, “You are to rest here for one night, I don’t wish for you to put more stress on your body.  You can head to your home tomorrow after I come and do a follow-up.  Drink the tonics I gave you for the pain and the lotion for your skin,” She paused, holding her bag in hand as she gave you and Azriel a soft smile, “You two have a strong son, I pray blessings from the Cauldron for a happy life with him,”

You both thanked her as she slipped out of the room, you heard her talk to Rhysand and Feyre outside your room as you sank back onto the bed with your son snuggling close to you.  You looked over every inch of him, the way his hair was thick and already showing some waves, his ears that seemed to be from you, even the cooling touch of his skin as you inhaled his sweet baby scent through your nostrils.   You saw him yawn, being content in your arms as he was slowly closing his eyes and falling asleep within your embrace.  The softness of his breathing and the morning wind filled the room, it all felt like you were dreaming as you watched your sleeping son and your husband at your side.  

This was a dream that you never wanted to wake from. 

“Sweet boy,” You cooed, reaching over to touch his smooth skin with a graze of your finger.  Your son yawned, snuggled into the blanket a bit more still deep asleep as you grinned in pure happiness, “You’re simply perfect, aren’t you?”

“You’re perfect, baby,” Azriel hummed to you as he wrapped you in his arms, having you lean against him with ease and his nose grazing your freshly washed  hair, “I’m insanely proud of you for bringing him into the world, for bringing us this gift,”

You smiled and looked up at him, seeing him with some fresh tears in his eyes as you leaned up to kiss his chin, “Look at the Shadowsinger being emotional,”

“I don’t care,” He shrugged, his scarred hand reached over to touch the blanket your son was swaddled in with pride in his tone, “I’m beyond happy with my family here, it’s all I need,”

To see your husband and mate in such a state, it made your heart swell tenfold.  You knew deep down he had a heart, a massive one at that which would only be vulnerable to those who he was close to and considered his family.  You saw it when you two were young and passionately in love with one another, and to see it evolve and strengthen over time seemed like an honor and privilege.  And now it was happening all over again with your son now in your life.  

A gentle knock was heard at the door, you both look over to see Rhysand and Feyre poking their heads in.  They instantly saw your son, both of their eyes going big and massive grins on their faces.

“Can we come in?” Feyre asked, you nodding with a hint of excitement to show off your newborn.  Both of them slipped in, closing the door behind them and walking over to be perched at the side of the bed where you and Azriel were.  Feyre’s eyes were already misting, seeing your sleeping son and her warmth was radiating off her grin and gaze.  Rhysand clasped Azriel on the shoulder with pride.

“He’s perfect,” Rhysand said to Azriel, then leaning over to kiss the top of your head lovingly, “Well done Cousin.”

“Thank you, Rhys,” You said to him as you then gestured to your sleeping son, “You want to hold him?”

Azriel watched with a soft grin as Rhysand took his son gently in his arms, already holding him perfectly since he had practiced with his own offspring.  There was a look of pride on the High Lord’s face, scanning the little boy up and down with his own sense of love that he would share with his nephew.  Feyre beamed as she stood and perched her head on his shoulder, looking at your son too.

“Oh, he’s simply beautiful,” Feyre said with a sigh before giving a small wink to Azriel, “Takes after his father no doubt,”

Azriel slightly blushed as he shook his head, “Thank you for the kind words, Feyre.  But hIs eyes are of the bluest sky, just like his mother,”  

“Still, a handsome boy and Illryian,” Rhysand said with his smile as he looked over at the pair of you, “No doubt he’ll be surrounded by love and support from his family.”

“I should hope so,” You teased, Rhysand rolled his eyes as you spoke again, “Considering he’s named after the High Lord who is holding him now,”

Both Feyre and Rhysand looked at you in shock, though you and Azriel were remaining calm.  Of course, this was one of those topics that was between the pair of you, trying to think of names and never being able to settle on one thing since you didn’t know the gender.  But you both knew one thing for certain: the middle name.  It was going to be sacred and filled with meaning, coming from a special person to the pair of you.  

Rhysand was more than just the High Lord of Night Court, he was your family and kept you close within arm’s reach.  Even after he lost his own immediate family, he treated you as a sister and loved you dearly.  To Azriel, Rhysand was a found brother and close friend, the family that took him in when his own family left them in ruins.  

Rhysand saved you both, and you both owed your lives to him.

“We don’t know his first name yet, but his middle name will be Rhysand,” You explained as you saw some tears forming in Rhysand’s eyes, “We had to name him after the very High Lord who brought us both out of the darkness and made us feel loved when we didn’t.”

Feyre snuggled into Rhysand as he was grinning at you with tears in his violet eyes, but you knew that they were tears of joy.  She kissed his cheek lovingly as Azriel made his way over to him and clasped his shoulder. 

“You mean the world to us, you both do,” he said to Rhysand and Feyre, “And we owe our lives to you.  Thanks to you, our son will know the true meaning of family, Rhys,”

As Feyre and Rhysand embraced Azriel, you were filled with content in how this day was unfolding and a new chapter beginning your life.  It was all you and Azriel wanted: being surrounded by family with your new child finally in the world.  

It was all you wanted and more

“There we are, much better, huh?”

Azriel closed the door behind him, his son whimpering in his hold as they were out on the small terrace.  The night sky was clear and calm, the warm winds were enough to leave some of the windows open as the moon hung high in the open sky with a scattering of stars.  The twinkling lights below from the city seemed to set the mood as Azriel stood out in the open with his son, who was watching his father with his newborn eyes.

Cassian and Nesta cut their honeymoon short after being contacted about the birth, coming back to the House of Wind an hour after Rhysand and Feyre gave the new family some time together.  They too were excited to meet the new addition to the family, though Cassian teased in wishing for your next child to be named after himself.  You blushed madly as Azriel gave him a playful glare, but Cassian threw up his hands.

“What?  Fair is fair!”

Since you were restricted in staying in bed, you both were going to stay one more night before Madja would come back and clear you to go home.  It was safer that way since you wanted to be at your best for both yourself and the baby, and after nursing him and having more time with your newborn, you were drowsy and you fell asleep.  But before you could, you finally thought of a name that suited your son well.  

Alec.  Alec Rhysand. 

Azriel took the helm in watching over Alec as you were resting and in a deep sleep, thinking it was the best time to have alone time with Alec while the rest of the world moved on around him.  His mind was still on overdrive on all that happened that day, running on the last bit of energy he had but also energized at the same time with his son in his arms.  There was still more to be done, but Azriel would think of those things later. At that moment, he wished to simply hold his boy close.

“You had a busy day,” Azriel hummed to Alec, seeing his son watch him with his bright eyes as Azriel kept talking, “Coming into this world screaming your head off.  You had to make your mark that way, didn’t you?”  

Azriel had to chuckle from how serious Alec was looking at him, the moonlight bathed on his skin and illuminating his bright eyes some more.  Azriel saw his mate in those eyes, a familiar sense of home was set in his gut as he reached over to tuck the blanket in a bit more around his son.

“I hope you know how loved you are,” He explained to Alec, swaying a bit back and forth as the warm wind came again, “I’m sure you do.  Not just by me and your mother, but by the rest of your family.  And I vow to you, Alec Rhysand, to always love you and show you how much I love you every day for as long as I’m alive and breathing,”

Azriel thought about his mother then, seeing her face in his mind and missing her all the more.  He wished she was still alive, away from all that pain that was around her but never diminished her kindness and gentleness.  He wondered how his mother would feel about Alec if she would love him and be happy to have a grandson.  It saddened him that he would never know, but he didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

“You will never have to be afraid,” Azriel softly spoke to Alec, who was wiggling a bit in his blankets, “Nothing in this world or any other world will harm you, not while I’m here.  Anything you wish to do, whatever path you choose to take, your mother and I will be behind you,”

He could only picture and dream what his life would be like, what kind of Illyrian Alec would grow up to be.  Would he be wise?  Or perhaps a strong soldier.  It never mattered to Azriel, not when he knew deep down that Alec would have a bright future.  He would strike down any foe or enemy that would dare to harm his mate or son since they both were his world now.  First, it was his mate, his sole source of love and joy that he never wished to withdraw from.  

And now it was his son, making his heart expand and grow.

Azriel’s finger moved up to tuck in the blanket once more, though Alec’s small and delicate hand grabbed his finger before he could do it.  It made Azriel freeze like a statue, seeing the small hand cling to his one finger like a lifeline.  The pristine and soft hand against a scarred finger is such a contrasting thing to witness.  But Azriel felt like he was under some kind of spell from the touch of his son, simply feeling his hand around his finger and feeling how tight Alec was holding onto him,

Almost silently telling his father he needed him. 

So Azriel hummed, a lullaby he remembered when he was a young boy in need of love.  The same lullaby his mother sang to him as a babe, both haunting and beautiful at the same time.  Azriel recalled that little song driving the nightmares away, making the shadows that would plague his mind disappear like mist in the morning sky.  He remembered the feeling of being held by his mother, the sweet scent of her hair, the soft tenor of her voice as she would sing to him.

Before he knew it, Alec was fast asleep, nuzzling into the blanket he was tucked tight in, but his hand was still gripping Azriel’s finger.  But Azriel didn’t have the heart to stop singing or stop swaying, even as his son was in deep sleep with a content look on his infant face.  He simply let the lullaby go on, floating into the night sky and around him as his constant swaying was therapeutic for him.  If need be, he would stay out there for hours and hours on end just to keep his son happy and content.  He would do anything for his son at this point, and he felt no shame for it.

He was too occupied to notice that you woke up from your slumber, pulling on a robe to watch your mate and son by the window with a massive grin on your face.

The End

tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #Azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #azriel spymaster #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #fanfiction #writing

[robin374]

alastor x daughter reader angst If you do, you will be very happy. The reader does not know that he is his father and when he finds out, Alastora will be very angry. PLSSSS

ehem thanks <3

𝔊𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔢

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 : Alastor x Reader, platonic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: Hola. I got too carried away sorry if it's too long. BRUH I JUST FINISHED AND I PASSED THE WORD LIMIT, let me just do a part 2 LMAO

Back when you were alive, you were an orphan. You couldn't remeber who your parents were, but you were angry. You were angry at everything and everyone, if they didn't love you when you were born why didn't they kill you? Was it necessary to abandon you? You didn't want to meet them and start over again as a happy family like your friends at the orphanage dreamed. You wanted to meet them so you could make sure you never talked to them again. Then, when you died, you wandered around Hell. You didn't exactly have a house, you just strolled around the city, maybe even killing someone to let your rage out. For someone who had deer resemblace you were quite agressive, to be honest.

You had died young, in your 17th birth to be exact. You bumped into a group of drunk men, they were drunk enough to pick a fight against whoever crossed paths with them, and you happened to be there. You just didn't survive. You may had born crying knowing nothing about life, but you died with that youth rage and you blamed it on your unknown parents.

One day, you were sitting on the floor reading a book you stole time ago when someone stopped in front of you. You didn't lift your head, you just flicked your gaze to the black dressing shoes and red pants that the person was wearing. "What do you want." You didn't ask, you demanded. "I...I have been informed that you were alone and homeless. So, I've decided to give you a room at my hotel, The Hazbin Hotel!" It was a girl's voice, the Princess of Hell's voice. You recognized her from seeing her singing around the streets not long ago. "Why would I want to go there?" You asked closing the book and putting it inside your bag. "It's just a hotel with a porn star and a pathetic victorian snake. I would prefer to sleep next to a rat with rabies than that, so, thank you but no, thank you." You started to walk away from her, you didn't even want to see her face. You knew you just had been mean to Lucifer's daughter, but she didn't even seem like it. You scratched a spot near your antlers, since you became a demon you didn't manage to get used to them. Then, a shadow appeared out of nowhere and it transformed into a tall man, who smiled at you.

"Now, that's not the best way to talk to someone, sweetheart." He said, his voice was accompanied with a stereophonic effect, it sounded like the radio you used to have in your room when you were alive. "Do I know you?" You said as you straightened your back to look more challenging. He just laughed, which clearly offended you a bit. "You should."

How did he manage to smile for so long? You couldn't remeber the last time your lips drew a genuine smile on your face. You were always with a frown on your face, angry, furious. "You seem to be quite the rebel, aren't you?" He said and before he ruffled your hair you flinched away. "Don't touch me." You hissed. "Ooh the fawn is angry," he laughed causing you to frown even more. "Where is your mother? Did a hunter shoot her?" He smiled even more -if that was even possible- you clenched your teeth and your ears curved downwards, you were trying so hard to not to hit him right then and there, who did he think he was? "Okay, let's calm down. How about you come to my hotel, stay one night and then you decide if you want to stay or not?" The princess smiled, her smile was kinder. You scoffed, "if that means that you won't bother me anymore, alright." They started walking down the street with you, it was the first time you walked with someone by your side. You expected it to be a silent walk but you were wrong, the blonde girl talked you about how she planned to redeem a lot of demons when she got the proof that they were able to do it.

While you were walking up the hill that led to the hotel, your gaze fell on the radio tower coming out of one side. You didn't pay attention to the strange Zeppelin or the huge letters that spelled 'Hazbin Hotel' you just looked at the radio tower. You heard a radio static near you, you didn't pay attention to it though, thinking that it was the coming for the tower. Once you were inside, you were greeted with more people that you thought. Of course, the porn star Angel Dust was there and wasted no time in flirting with you not even knowing you gender. "Oh you're the quiet type? Let me see what that mouth does, pretty please." He pouted and you raised your brow. If that was what he wanted, he would get it. "Get the fuck away from me." You said, shoving him away. Then, you heard a deep chuckle and you turned to your side, you noticed a black cat with wings laughing at the white spider. He had a bottle in his hand. Charlie, made you greet everyone there, but her brows frowned in confused way the moment she didn't find someone called Nifty.

You were about to walk towards the bar when you hit something with your foot. You heard a high pitched voice laughing and telling you to hit her again. You stepped back from the small woman with a scared face and your ears curved downwards. "Hi! I'm Nifty, I clean." She quickly climbed up your body and stopped at your face, her big eye looking intensely at you, you swore she could read your mind. "You are very young to be dead, what happened to you? Oh! What's your name?" She shook you, she was surprinsingly strong considering her small body. "Tell me everything." She growled. "My name's Y/N." You said, and ignored again the radio static, had it been sounding this whole time?

After greeting everyone, you told Charlie that you wanted to rest and she showed you your room. You closed the door and let your body fall in the bed. Even though you didn't want to admit it, you had the feeling that this couldn't be as bad as you thought. It had an old-fashioned aura that made you feel at home, somehow. You hadn't felt like this for a long time, you were always running away from demons that wanted to kill you, harass you, make a deal with you... You were at peace here.

PART 2 HERE

I AM SO SORRY

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic #i loved this request #denial is a river in egypt

[shelbgrey]

Honey, I want something for “being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter”. and being Garrett's love interest! I love him, however, he has few things on this platform! Guys are very protective of her as well as girls. Thanks for the attention 🌷💌.

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter HCs:

Paring: daughter!Reader x Dad!Carlisle x Mom!Esme (Reader x Boyfriend!Garrett)

Summary: headcanons about carlisle and Esme's daughter dating Garrett.

💜MasterList 💜twilight MasterList

So I think they're youngest daughter is gonna remain human for awhile. Your the only cullen 'child' that has been legally adopted by carlisle and Esme, So your actually they're daughter.

You were the daughter of an old friend of Esme's, your mother died giving birth to you and your biological father just wasn't fit to take care of you. Esme and Carlisle took you in under your bio-mom's wishes.

Anyway, Esme was over the moon excited to have a baby in the house, she practically never put you down... Unless Carlisle wanted to hold you and cuddle you.

The two never really gotten the chance to be actual parents, with the other's they were already grown and matured, but with you they could finally experience parent hood.

Your defently a daddy's girl, Carlisle loves you with every single cell in his body and he's very over protective of you... Unfortunately to the point he didn't trust Jasper alone with you when you were a baby.

Speaking of Jasper and siblings, you literally have the best siblings in the world. If you thought carlisle was over protective just wait till you see the boys.

Emmett and you are the closet, he's always making you laugh and 'wrestling'. He'll do just about anything for you or with you. He's probably also the most protective out of your three brothers.

When you were little Edward would often read you stories and teach you how to play piano.

Jasper is your go to person when you have a problem, he's the best listener and he has your back.

As you got older the protectiveness got old, high school wasn't easy with them around but honestly they're the reason you survived.

But the protectiveness didn't get really annoying till you met Garrett, your mate.

In all honesty it's Edward and Bella's fault (Emmett words not yours). You and Bella don't get along at all and she's jealous of yours and Edward's relationship... That's a story for another time though, this is yours and Garrett's story.

Anyway, the family didn't really expect it to happen. After going to Egypt with your parents you decided to met the other guests, that's how you met Garrett.

He cought your eye immediately and the feeling was mutual, Carlisle didn't like how Garrett would look at you.

“who were you talking to?” your dad asked after leaving the living room. “dose it matter?”

“no, no, it doesn't matter unless it's a Boy!”

You just brushed it off, knowing your dad was just being over protective and You continued to get to know Garrett.

You thought he was very charming and funny. Dispite the situation you were currently in with Renesmee he was always making you laugh.

Your parents were happy and all, but at the same time Carlisle didn't want to see you get hurt.

“Dad, what are you doing?” you asked after put some space between you and Garrett.

“there should be a safe distance between you and boys... Especially this one”

Anyway, Garrett realized the problem and went to Carlisle about it. They were both old fashion.

“I think I love your daughter and I want to your promising to date her”

Carlisle's problems seemed to go away slightly. “well it's up to her... But if you hurt her you'll deal with me”

after your family won the battle with the vulturi he took you at on that date. He treated you like a queen the whole time and he asked you to be his girlfriend at the end of the night.

So he did join the coven after awhile. The whole nomad life wasn't pleasant to him anymore. He even changed to the vegetarian diet for you.

He likes like being productive of you, but he knows you can take care of yourself.

Emmett dose send deth threats when you started dating. “you better not hurt her” carlisle doesn't have a violent bone in his body, but Emmett dose.

But after the family saw how happy you were they welcomed Garrett into the family with open arms.

“I'll follow you anywhere woman” he smiled.

#Breaking dawn part 2 #Garrett x reader #Carlisle cullen x reader #Esme cullen x reader #Twilight headcanons #Twilight Imagines #Garrett headcanons #Garrett imagines #Carlisle cullen headcanons #Esme cullen headcanons #Emmett cullen x reader #Rosalie Hale x reader #Alice cullen x reader #Jasper Hale x reader #Edward cullen x reader

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

#美迪 archive #💡princess posting⋆˚✿˖° #mailbox 💌 #light yagami #death note #goro akechi #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #doodle #rkgk #画画 #涂鸦

[soracities]

what are your suggestions for starter poetry for people who dont have strong reading/analysis backgrounds

I've answered this a few times so I'm going to compile and expand them all into one post here.

I think if you haven't read much poetry before or aren't sure of your own tastes yet, then poetry anthologies are a great place to start: many of them will have a unifying theme so you can hone in based on a subject that interests you, or pick your way through something more general. I haven't read all of the ones below, but I have read most of them; the rest I came across in my own readings and added to my list either because I like the concept or am familiar with the editor(s) / their work:

Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times (ed. Nick Astley) & Being Alive: The Sequel to Staying Alive (there's two more books in this series, but I'm recommending these two just because it's where I started)

The Rattlebag (ed. Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes)

The Ecco Anthology of International Poetry (ed. Ilya Kaminsky & Susan Harris)

The Essential Haiku, Versions of Basho, Buson and Issa (ed. Robert Hass)

A Book of Luminous Things (ed. Czesław Miłosz )

Now and Then: The Poet's Choice Columns by Robert Hass (this may be a good place to start if you're also looking for commentary on the poems themselves)

Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World(ed. Pádraig Ó'Tuama)

African American Poetry: 250 Years of Struggle and Song (ed. Kevin Young)

The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing (ed. Kevin Young)

Lifelines: Letters from Famous People about their Favourite Poems

The following lists are authors I love in one regard or another and is a small mix of different styles / time periods which I think are still fairly accessible regardless of what your reading background is! It's be no means exhaustice but hopefully it gives you even just a small glimpse of the range that's available so you can branch off and explore for yourself if any particular work speaks to you.

But in any case, for individual collections, I would try:

anything by Sara Teasdale

Devotions / Wild Geese / Felicity by Mary Oliver

Selected Poems and Prose by Christina Rossetti

Collected Poems by Langston Hughes

Where the Sidewalk Endsby Shel Silverstein

Morning Haiku by Sonia Sanchez

Revolutionary Letters, Diane di Prima

Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved by Gregory Orr

Rose: Poems by Li-Young Lee

A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor / Barefoot Souls by Maram al-Masri

Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky

Tell Me: Poems / What is This Thing Called Love? by Kim Addonizio

The Trouble with Poetry by Billy Collins (Billy Collins is THE go-to for accessible / beginner poetry in my view so I think any of his collections would probably do)

Crush by Richard Siken

Rapture / The World's Wife by Carol Ann Duffy

The War Works Hard by Dunya Mikhail

Selected Poems by Walt Whitman

View with a Grain of Sand by Wislawa Szymborska

Collected Poems by Vasko Popa

Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas (this is a play, but Thomas is a poet and the language & structure is definitely poetic to me)

Bright Dead Things: Poems by Ada Limón

Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire,

Nostalgia, My Enemy: Selected Poems by Saadi Youssef

As for individual poems:

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

[Dear The Vatican] erasure poem by Pádraig Ó'Tuama // "The Pedagogy of Conflict"

"Good Bones" by Maggie Smith

"The Author Writes the First Draft of His Weddings Vows (An erasure of Virginia Woolf's suicide letter to her husband, Leonard)" by Hanif Abdurraqib

"I Can Tell You a Story" by Chuck Carlise

"The Sciences Sing a Lullabye" by Albert Goldbarth

"One Last Poem for Richard" by Sandra Cisneros

"We Lived Happily During the War" by Ilya Kaminsky

“I’m Explaining a Few Things”by Pablo Neruda

"Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" //"Nothing Gold Can Stay"//"Out, Out--" by Robert Frost

"Tablets: I // II // III"by Dunya Mikhail

"What Were They Like?" by Denise Levertov

"Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden,

"The Patience of Ordinary Things" by Pat Schneider

“I, too” // "The Negro Speaks of Rivers” // "Harlem” // “Theme for English B” by Langston Hughes

“The Mower” // "The Trees" // "High Windows" by Philip Larkin

“The Leash” // “Love Poem with Apologies for My Appearance” // "Downhearted" by Ada Limón

“The Flea” by John Donne

"The Last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore

"Beauty" // "Please don't" // "How it Adds Up" by Tony Hoagland

“My Friend Yeshi” by Alice Walker

"De Humanis Corporis Fabrica"byJohn Burnside

“What Do Women Want?” // “For Desire” // "Stolen Moments" // "The Numbers" by Kim Addonizio

“Hummingbird” // "For Tess" by Raymond Carver

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin

“Bleecker Street, Summer” by Derek Walcott

“Dirge Without Music” // "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Digging” // “Mid-Term Break” // “The Rain Stick” // "Blackberry Picking" // "Twice Shy" by Seamus Heaney

“Dulce Et Decorum Est”by Wilfred Owen

“Notes from a Nonexistent Himalayan Expedition”by Wislawa Szymborska

"Hour" //"Medusa" byCarol Ann Duffy

“The More Loving One” // “Musée des Beaux Arts” by W.H. Auden

“Small Kindnesses” // "Feeding the Worms" by Danusha Laméris

"Down by the Salley Gardens” // “The Stolen Child” by W.B. Yeats

"The Thing Is" by Ellen Bass

"The Last Love Letter from an Entymologist" by Jared Singer

"[i like my body when it is with your]" by e.e. cummings

"Try to Praise the Mutilated World" by Adam Zagajewski

"The Cinnamon Peeler" by Michael Ondaatje

"Last Night I Dreamed I Made Myself" by Paige Lewis

"A Dream Within a Dream" // "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe (highly recommend reading the last one out loud or listening to it recited)

"Ars Poetica?" // "Encounter" // "A Song on the End of the World"by Czeslaw Milosz

"Wandering Around an Albequerque Airport Terminal” // "Two Countries” // "Kindness” by Naoimi Shihab Nye

"Slow Dance” by Matthew Dickman

"The Archipelago of Kisses" // "The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel

"Mimesis" by Fady Joudah

"The Great Fires" // "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart" // "Failing and Flying" by Jack Gilbert

"The Mermaid" // "Virtuosi" by Lisel Mueller

"Macrophobia (Fear of Waiting)" by Jamaal May

"Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong" by Ocean Vuong

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

I would also recommend spending some times with essays, interviews, or other non-fiction, creative or otherwise (especially by other poets) if you want to broaden and improve how you read poetry; they can help give you a wider idea of the landscape behind and beyond the actual poems themselves, or even just let you acquaint yourself with how particular writers see and describe things in the world around them. The following are some of my favourites:

Upstream: Essays by Mary Oliver

"Theory and Play of the Duende" by Federico García Lorca

"The White Bird" and "Some Notes on Song" by John Berger

In That Great River: A Notebook by Anna Kamienska

A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

The Book of Delights by Ross Gay

"Of Strangeness That Wakes Us" and "Still Dancing: An Interview with Ilya Kaminsky" by Ilya Kaminsky

"The Sentence is a Lonely Place" by Garielle Lutz

Still Life with Oysters and Lemon by Mark Doty

Paris, When It's Naked by Etel Adnan

#ask #anonymous #beginner guides