Hi~ You’re an amazing writer and your daddy stories with witchers were the cutest thing i’ve ever seen🥺could you write something cute with emotional higher vampires please?Like what if Regis or Dettlaff was a parent? 💕Thank you! xoxo
A/N: Hi babe! Thank you so much!! I’ve been wanting to write for dad!Regis and Dettlaff for a while but tbh their dad personas have been a little tricky for me. We did dad!Dettlaff for this one though. I hope you like this!! And sorry it’s so short!
Warnings: none really, crying baby, upset Dettlaff, but mostly fluff
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As you neared the front door to your house, you could hear crying coming from inside your home. Your stomach began to tighten and fear crept into your veins.
You had been anxious to get out of the house ever since your daughter was born two months ago. But with the anxious excitement came worries. This meant leaving your dear husband with Florence. You weren’t worried about how Dettlaff would handle her, but more of what hypothetically could happen. Bandits. A pack of wolves. A werewolf maybe. You had to keep telling yourself that your husband was arguably the most dangerous creature on the Continent. He’d keep her safe.
You pushed the front door open and found the kitchen and main room empty.
With furrowed brows, you followed the sound of your wailing daughter back to the bedroom.
Dettlaff sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.
Florence was in her crib crying hysterically.
You moved to her side, picking her up and cradling her to your chest. You hushed her, softly rubbing her back and bouncing just a little to calm her.
As soon as her crying died down, you brought your attention to Dettlaff. He hadn’t noticed you.
“Dettlaff?”
He raised his head, hands falling to his lap.
“Y/N.” He breathed your name like a sigh of relief.
“What happened, love?”
“She just…. I couldn’t get her to be quiet.” He spoke softly, tears in his eyes. “I-I tried holding her and-and talking to her the way you do but I-I-,”
He became choked up on his words, shaking his head.
“She just kept crying and crying-,”
“It’s okay, love.” You stopped him, sitting down next to him.
“Why doesn’t she like me?” He asked quietly, blue eyes focused on Florence. She cooed quietly in your arms with her fingers in her mouth. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were still damp from tears.
“Dettlaff, she’s only two months old.”
“But she reacts to your voice. She calms down. Why doesn’t she do that with me?”
“Because she is used to my voice. Before she was born, she could hear my voice. Yours was there, but it was muffled. It’s just…. It’s different, Dettlaff. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you.”
He said nothing. He wore a frown on his lips, a look of heartbreak etched into his features.
“I-I just…. I want her to know how much I love her.” He murmured quietly.
“Oh, my love.” You wrapped one arm around the back of Dettlaff’s shoulders and cradled your hand around his head. You pulled him down to you, kissing the side of his head. “She knows how much you love her.”
He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers gently scratched his head.
“She’s sleeping now. Let’s go make some tea.” You suggested.
He nodded and stood up.
You put Florence in her crib and then turned to your husband. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at her.
You brought one hand up to cup his jaw, brushing a stray tear from his cheek.
“I read about it in plenty of books, Dettlaff. She’s more familiar with my voice and my scent because I carried her for nine months.”
He nodded his head a little and leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.
“I understand. I’m still upset though.”
“That’s okay.” You wrapped your arms around his waist. “Let’s go make that tea.”
