Ring-Ding! Delivery! (Silco/F!Reader)
Silco/f!Reader
Ask And You Shall Receive
2,475 Words, NSFW?
Pregnancy, Child Birth, Soft!Silco, Supportive!Silco, Domestic!Silco, F!Reader.
Part 1, Part 2
The months of your pregnancy your brain was filled with well-justified questions: What did labor pain feel like? How painful is childbirth?
Both you and Silco had read the books and asked your doctor questions, but what did paper and a man know about childbirth? Your mother was no longer around to ask, you had no other family. One day you nervously stepped through the doors of the clinic to find a woman sitting in the wait with her daughter and instantly was asking her questions.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude-”
“First time? Oh, you’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as some people make it out to be.” She had advised and you trustingly took her word for it. What would later be a mistake.
Once again you find yourself in the bathroom at around five in the morning. Just to use the bathroom, thankfully the morning sickness was already done and over with. You were washing your hands and staring at your tired self in the mirror. Your bulging stomach pronounced with stretch marks that while you found unappealing Silco had taken to littering them with love and affection, soft kisses placed at your stomach that had you feeling nothing but cherished.
You brush your thumb over one patch of marks and smile.
You didn’t consider yourself much of a vain person but Silco made the comment that you had never looked more beautiful. Jinx, blessedly had taken the news well, over excited and assaulting the two of you with names but creative, made-up and-
“Rocket is a nice name for a girl but we still don’t know if they’re going to be a girl. You may have a baby brother Jinx.”
“Then how about Bang?” And you bite your lip and give Silco’s raised brow a little glance because that actually sounded kind of nice.
You're interrupted from your daydream by a tight throb from your lower abdomen. It didn’t hurt too bad, so little in fact that you considered it just gas and went back to bed.
Eight in the morning and you are woken up by a swift kick of pain to your lower stomach. It had you gasping and curlin in bed. Had you been standing it would have knocked your legs out from under you. It was an intense pressure, traveling down your stomach from low into your pelvis, a serious cramp that felt worse than any other you’ve ever had.
You are in the midst of regaining your breath before it’s once again knocked out of you, this time it’s worse. You feel your mouth opening, you know you let out a pained shriek but you can’t hear it. Horrid heat laces through your lower abdomen.
You fight it, you fight it tooth and nail. You hear white noise and all you can focus on is the incredible cramping and since fighting was losing out, flight kicked in and you are out of bed and back into the bathroom before another cramp hits and you are griping the sink for dear life.
There is a slight jolt, you're given a small shake by firm hands on your shoulder and your eyes snapped open, when had you closed them? Burning red as hot as molten rock stares at you with its twin blue primary. His mouth is moving, a spit command.
“Breath!”
You suck in air and sobs and the world comes back into focus. Silco is there, just woken up but entirely alert as he looks you over and he almost looks panicked but Silco doesn’t get panicked. That can’t be right. But right now you’re too busy enjoying the momentary bliss of relief before the next wave hits…The con-what are they called?
“It’s time.” Silco states.
“I’m…not due…for another-” Silco levels you with an emploring and concerned stare. He sets a warm hand on your stomach and soothes it.
“That’s up to them, not us.”
It hadn’t taken you long to get ready. Given how soon you were due, Silco felt it was close enough time to have a bag already packed and waiting to go. You felt the baby was going to come immediately given the cramps--contractions, that’s what they were called. Silco assured you there was time. He reminded you of what the doctor of the clinic had said, that there would be time to get ready, don’t rush too much. Remain calm, keep breathing.
Jinx was practically sleep-walking her way out the door with you. You’re not even sure she heard you when you had told her that you were going into labor.
“Mm comin’.” She snored as she shucked on her boots and was led out the door by leashing her fingers to the back belt loop of Silco’s pants. While he had gotten moderately dressed, as in, a pair of pants complimented with his crew neck nightly shirt both you and Jinx had forgone traditional clothing to brave the clinic in your pajamas.
You may as well have went nude because as soon as you got in the carriage your water broke, and then when you got the room the nurse had barked for you to strip and gave you a thin paper gown.
This happened in a span of an hour in a half…And when the doctor arrived to check on you he had the audacity to say that you weren’t ready.
“Your water just broke. You still have a few hours to go before you’re dilated enough.” And you have the sudden need to see his teeth broken on the floor. You lifted to make that vision a reality before Silco put his hand on your knuckles and pulled it back down to hold with his at your side.
“We need him alive, dear.”
You were told to make yourself comfortable and Jinx happily took up the offer by collapsing into one of the nearby chairs and fell back asleep.
You can’t though. You can’t sit still. You feel like if you lay down the next wave of pain might just drown you. You slowly pace the room with your hands pressed against your lower back as now the pain has moved there, a knife twisting jab that has you whimpering.
“What about the epidural?” You whine sucking in breath through your teeth as another cramp hits.
Silco, in his own chair by the bed, looks up from the book he had brought, a bright creamy colored cover of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting.’ and frowns.
“You're not dilated enough for it.”
“And just how long am I supposed suck it up for!?” You growl.
“Considering what time they started and when we got here? And according to this--?” He waves the book. “It could be about two more hours.” You lift your head back and whine. Silco takes this cue to close the book and pat the bed.
“Lay down, my lovely. You’ll feel better.”
“How is laying down going to help me feel better?!” Your growling turns into whimpering as your back goes straight with another tear jerking cramp before it subsides and you turn around and stagger back to the other side of the room for the fifth time now.
“If you lay down I will show you.” And you sniff, wiping your eyes as they had gone gummy at some point and waddle your way over to the bed, painstakingly getting into it and laying atop the covers.
Then Silco climbs into bed with you. When you realize what he has planned you shuffle over to give you both the room you need, which it’s not a big bed, it’s a little cramped but when Silco gather’s you in his arms and holds you to his chest you practically sag.
His skin feels soft and warm against yours and you sniffle as you rest your head against his chest and nuzzle into him. The clean smell of him helps you with your breathing. His hand brushing through your hair makes you feel safe despite the pain triggering your fight response. His legs tangle with yours and with each hiss as another contraction hits he places a rewarding kiss to the crown of your head as you manage to suffer through it.
The room echoes with your soft whimpers, his soft humming, and Jinx’s loud snoring.
It goes on for two and a half more hours before you feel the need to push and Silco gets the doctor. The man arrives already dressed for operation and is fitting you in the bed with the stirrups. Silco is shaking Jinx by her shoulder to wake her.
“Jinx. Jinx, wake up. You need to go out into the hall. You're too young to see this.”
“K” She gets up without opening her eyes, pillow cradled closely to her chest, Silco guides her towards the door. She gives a little tired wave to you that you try to return without grimacing.
This is the absolute worst pain you have ever been in, in your entire life and you haven’t even been stabbed.
Silco’s fingers give a small pop as you clench at his hand, holding him down. The man, bless him, doesn’t complain at the tightness of your fist. He gives as good as he gets while standing beside you, maintaining a supporting point of contact that you need. Support, everything he had been throughout this pregnancy and will be and more. He stands next to you and the labor bed as the doctor ducks his head between your legs.
It’s a process. It was already painful but this is life alerting and you’re practically threatening Silco’s life for doing this to you.
“It takes two.” He hisses as you give a punishing squeeze of his hand from his sass.
“It’s crowning.” The masked man in scrubs says. He gives a glance up from his position to Silco, still with nervousness in his eyes, knowing that if something goes wrong he will likely be dead by the end of the day. It won’t be Silco he needs to worry about, if this doesn’t kill you then you’ll be the one after his throat. He then looks at you and gives a nod. “Just one more big push.”
“I can’t.” You sob because it feels like it’s tearing you open, a blistering hot stretch that feels like you're being snapped apart.
“Yes, yes can.” Silco urges and gives his own firm squeeze. “You’re almost there, my lovely. You can do it. You’re almost done and then we get to meet them.” He lifts that hand and presses a kiss to your knuckle.
“Don’t you want to meet them?” He asks because you all do. Him, Jinx in the hall and likely woken up by now given your screaming, and you. Yes, you want to meet them. You’ve been wanting to meet them for nine months.
You scream as you try to bring your child into the world.
Your face is hot with tears as they streak messily down your cheeks. Your face is hot as every draw of breath pushes blood to your cheeks from force of exertion. Your knuckles white as you clench Silco’s hand and the bedside bar with your other. Another scream, another push. Silco talks words of encouragement and praise into your ear.
“Almost. You can do it. They’re almost here.”
It had taken a hefty two hours of labor before there was an almost immediate relief and the garbling cry of a newborn infant. The sound has you falling limp in bed and sob half hysteric giggles as you hear your baby’s cry for attention, their first healthy breath of life.
“Congratulations. It’s a boy.” The doctor says, cleaning the baby--your son, off before laying him against your bare skin.
The skin contact feels like a soothing balm across a hot burn. You keep him close to your chest, still half dazed that it’s finally over and you’ve done it, this is it, this is your reward, and what a wonderful blessing it is.
You gaze down and press a kiss to his small mop of black hair, more than able now to ignore the follow up contractions of the afterbirth. Your attention is too focused on him. How perfect he is. How beautiful he is. You’re crying for a completely different reason now and can’t stop smiling. You look to your side at Silco, expecting to see the same expression. But it’s not there.
His face betrays no emotion. You can see his jaw flex as he clenches his teeth, as though he wants to say something but is holding back the words. He had released your hand and now he lay clenches at his side as blue and burning red trace every bit of detail on his newborn's face.
“Silco.” You murmur, exhausted. His gaze snaps to you, there is a kind of fear in his eyes and for a second you think that perhaps he is having second thoughts. Perhaps this is what it took for him to realize that this isn’t what he wants. You quickly and violently pound away those thoughts because no, that’s not what this is. That’s not who he is. He’s simply processing this.
And you were right because then he gives you a soft smile, one of pure love and adoration. It’s eyes that are normally shared between him, you, and Jinx and now he has another he can gaze at with such soft warmth.
“Do you want to hold him?” He opens his mouth and closes it looking between you and your son and that trepidation is back. No, he’s not backing out, he is second guessing himself like most father’s do when confronted with their baby for the first time. You watch his throat bob as he swallows hard and you smile at him.
“What if--”
“You won’t drop him, Silco. Remember the doll?” It had been a hefty doll. Approximately how much the baby would potentially weigh. It was in order to figure out how to properly hold the child, support the head, grow used to holding the weight and how to carry.
Silco clears his throat and approaches closer, ready for the infant and you gently coax your son into his father’s awaiting arms.
He’s perfect, he’s practiced, cradling his son close and keeping his neck supported and looks down at his newborn with shock and awe in his eyes. You watch with a smile on your face as he swipes his thumb against his child's face and simply stares at him.
And then you see his throat bobbing again, his jaw clenching, and his eyes flutter. He takes a deep and stuttering breath before a disbelieving smile breaks on his face and his eyes cloud with tears.
Silco tenderly pressed a kiss to the crown of his son's head.
