#and I was once that 2 year old that fell asleep on two chairs while they were blasting that banger music

[mywilltoliveisdecreasing]

Real

[shoukiko]

Merry Christmas, Simon

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Tags: Fluff....just fluff lol

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I've been working on this for a bit, just waiting to post it today, I'm all antsy, I really hope you guys like it.

You’ve worked with TF141 for the past three years. Price spoke to Laswell, saying that he thought the team deserved some type of break, so he and Laswell came up with an “amazing holiday getaway” to “a hidden oasis where the only sounds you hear are the rustling leaves and the soothing melody of birdsong.”. It was a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, for safety reasons, but you were all grateful for it. It was 2 weeks away, a day would’ve been fine, but she insisted.

It was a week and two days into the trip, snowing outside, your turn for chores. Soap and Gaz sat on the couch in front of an old television watching some soap opera. Price is sitting in one of the lounge chairs, asleep with his arms crossed as his head dangles. You’re tidying up the kitchen after a late dinner, you turn to look at the clock hung on the wall which reads, 12:05. You realize what this entails as you turn to the three men.

“Merry Christmas, guys!” You say cheerfully in their direction. 

“Merry Christmas, Lass.” Soap says from his seat, he nudges Gaz to respond. “Ah- Yea Merry Christmas…” He seems to be too focused on the TV show, who can blame him, those telenovelas are addicting. You decide against waking Price up, the man needs his sleep. As you turn back to the sink you feel a tap on your left shoulder, you turn to see Ghost’s tall dark figure hovering over you, sporting his casual skull balaclava.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” You tilt your head as you ask, genuinely curious as to what he could need that requires a tap on the shoulder instead of him outright asking.

“You got a minute? Wanted to see if we could have a quick chat.” His tone is somewhat nervous? He isn’t as husky or gritty as usual. “Sure, let me finish up and-” He cuts you off before you can finish. “It’s important. I’ll help you out after.” 

Must really be important if the Ghost tells you it is. “Alright.” You wipe your hands on your apron, untying it from your back and hanging it up on a nearby chair. “Grab your coat.” He dons his own coat, all in one fell swoop. You grab yours, putting it on. 

You both head outside to the porch, each taking a seat on the swinging bench that hangs from the veranda. “Ah wait here-” He says, standing once more, he heads inside and comes back hiding something in his coat. “Whatcha got there, Mister?” You ask him as he sits back down, the bench shifts slightly from his weight.

He pulls out a plastic bag that contains multiple little things, he hands it to you. Taking notice of the slight blush at the end of his fingertips you slowly take the bag. “Merry Christmas… Sorry, didn’t get to wrap it.” A bashful tone in his voice.

“You.. got me something? Man, I feel a little bad, if I would’ve known I would’ve done the same..” You say, hesitating to open it. “Don’t fret over it… Are you gonna open it or just stare at it?”

“Ah right- Sorry” You carefully reach into the bag and pull out one of the small items. It’s… 

“Socks! You got me socks?!” A smile appears on your face, beaming in the night. Despite the mask, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “There’s more if you look.” 

You open the bag more and find more small items, a small tube of vanilla scented lotion, a notepad, and some cinnamon wax melts. You’re happy, but oh so confused by the difference of each item.

“This is… Thank you. I really love it, but what’s with the theme?” You ask with a laugh.

“Well…” He pauses to think for a minute. “It’s all things you wanted.” “Huh..?”

“A couple days ago you said you couldn’t find your winter socks, then you said you forgot your hand cream back at home, then you said while eating dinner two nights ago that you love the smell of cinnamon during Christmas because it reminds you of good memories from your childhood.” You’re taken aback, you don’t remember saying any of these things until he brings it up, such small things and yet he remembers. 

“You… you actually remember?” A faint blush appears on your face as you scan over your new gifts, suddenly feeling warm despite the subzero temperatures. “Uhm.. Thank you.. Really. Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, actually.” His expression becomes somber as he closes his eyes and takes a breath, he turns his body slightly and rests his arm on the back of the bench. “Look, I don’t know how else to bring this up.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ghost grips the back of the bench before meeting your eyes.

"Listen, I've been thinkin' a lot lately, and I reckon I need to be straight with you. You mean a proper lot to me, more than I can put into words. I'm mad about you, every single goddamn I hear your voice or that stupid laugh.. It’s like something shifts in me. I care about you, more than  I have about anyone in a long time, but…”

Your heart beating out of your chest, uncertain on how to respond. All you can let out is a

“But..?”

He looks down, almost like he’s ashamed before responding.

“I’m.. scared, terrified. Of hurting you.. Or you getting into an accident during a mission. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a sense of fear.

You look at him with genuine eyes, you almost can’t believe what’s happening in front of you, the Ghost confessing his feelings for you. “But…” He continues. “If you’ll have me, I’m willing to take that leap into uncertainty with you. If… you want.”

You look at him as if you’re a deer caught in headlights. You begin to lose your breath, blinking,  unable to process what was said to you. You take a moment before replying…

“I- I….” You struggle to find the words, you want to scream, but you also want to take it slow and really talk about it. You can see him become antsy, your silence bringing tension to the cold air around you. “Ghost I..”

“It’s fine.” He interrupts.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I know it’s sudden. I’m sorry.” He says, there's a slight hurt in his voice, he goes to stand. Just then you grab his arm, stopping him.

“I want.” “...What..?” “You said if I want…. Well.. I want, I don’t know how else to say it. I do want to be with you. I want to jump into that uncertainty with you. Please.” There’s a tinge of desperation in your voice, you feel as if you say nothing now, you will never have this opportunity again.

Ghost looks as if a wave of relief has washed over him. 

“I thought you were gonna make me think I said all that for nothin’.” His eyes crinkle slightly as he adjusts himself once more.

“I’m sorry, I got nervous, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.” You begin to fidget with your hands in your lap, a faint blush appearing on your faces as you turn away. 

You feel him inching closer to you, the heat from his body radiating, bringing warmth for both of you to share.

He softly grabs your face with his right hand, turning you towards him. You take glances at his mask and eyes, unable to lock on a single thing. He pulls up his mask just above his nose and leans in, pressing his lips against yours. Only a few seconds before you lean into him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his coat. He places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. You pull away for just a second to catch your breath. The both of you share a look, complete silence, then..

He chuckles, “Well then..” You place a hand on your mouth as you stare at him, stifling a small laugh. “That was something.” You manage to say through your giggles. You place your hand on his, a loving smile forms on your lips. He begins to caress the back of your hand, his touch gentle, yet warm. “Thank you…. Merry Christmas, Doll.” He looks up at you with gentle eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Simon.”

[and-so-he-rambled]

“Is this your lab?”

Vlad jumped, cursing in the form of a confectionery as he shocked himself. He spun around in his chair to see the children in the doorway. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten in to the secure lab, the baby monitor on the table standing silent. He had put them both to bed hours ago and had been too restless to sleep, so he’d gone down to the lab to work on Jazz’s blaster. He hadn’t been sleeping well since he’d gotten the children.

Jazz stood in front with Danny beside her holding her hand. She was pale and terrified as her teal eyes roamed around the partially finished basement. It had likely been a dungeon once, but he’d cleared it out and had started remodeling it. It was sparse, filled with table of blueprints and half finished projects. He hadn’t conducted many successful experiments in the last few years, but the more he learned about himself, the better things he could create.

Danny’s eyes were focused on the gutted portal against the back wall. It had taken him years to build a functional portal, and he’d managed to and was able to explore the infinite realms in the last two years, but his portal was too unstable to rely on. He’d needed to disassemble it and ship the parts to the castle and he hadn’t gotten around to putting it back together yet.

“Don’t make a ghost portal.” Danny stared into Vlad’s soul. “I don’t want you to die too.”

The words washed over Vlad like a bucket of icy water.

He stood so fast his chair flipped, the spinning of the wheels drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He dropped his soldering gun, uncaring as it flattered to the ground.

“Your parents died in a portal accident?” They hadn’t given him details on the accident before and the police had only told him there had been an explosion. Due to the open investigation he hadn’t been able to view their lab or bodies, and only once it was closed could they have a proper funeral.

Both children nodded.

Vlad leaned against the table, hand over his chest as his core shuddered. The children both called out to him, but he couldn’t focus on it. Had Jack messed up another portal? Had they not learned from Vlad’s accident? He was spiraling and he needed to breathe already, what about the kids-

What about the kids?

He was over whelmed with the need to make sure they were okay, that they hadn’t been damaged by the portal collapse. He needed to focus, why couldn’t he breathe? He didn’t even need to breathe, so why couldn’t he catch his breath?

A small hand began to pet his hair.

“You’re having a panic attack, I think you’re supposed to take big breaths. The doctors made me count to five and back, can you do that?” Jazz was standing in front of him, and oh, he was on his knees. “5… 4… 3…”

“1!” Daniel yelled, face smooshed into Vlad’s chest as he snuggled into his lap, gangly lumps in every direction.

“No Danny, it’s 2 next.” Jazz corrected

“Then 1?”

“Yeah, I dunno if zero counts.”

“Do abcs next!”

Hearing the kids talk brought Vlad out of his haze. He stood on shaky legs, holding Daniel still. He shouldn’t put his mental well-being on the shoulders of a child, he thought he had gotten over his panic attacks over the accident. The deaths of his former friends had opened old wounds he’d long since bled dry.

“Thank you Jasmine, I apologize that you had to see that.” He took a shaky breath. “Let’s get you kids back to bed.”

Jazz’s eyes were on him the entire trip back upstairs, gaze far too intelligent. She was analyzing him.

Daniel fell asleep immediately once he was back in his bed, snuggling in to the stuffed aliens he’d happily picked out.

Jazz sat on her bed while he put her brother to bed, bare feet swinging idly.

“You don’t need to be sad, that you got scared.” She said softly as he tucked her in, eyes seeming to glow in the dim light.

Vlad sighed, smoothing her hair from her forehead. A patch of it seemed lighter than before.

“Jazz, I’m the one who’s supposed to be telling you that.” He sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in his lap. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m an adult.”

Jazz blinked sleepily at him, snaking a hand out of the blankets to pat his leg.

“You’re an adult, but you’re like us.” She yawned, snuggling into her pillow. “You’re broken too.”

Her tiny hand slid off his leg as she fell asleep, finally relaxing. She only was calm when she was asleep, and even though he knew she had a weapon under her pillow it was a relief to see her calm.

Vlad stared at her sleeping face, a torrent of emotions running through him. He resisted the urge to wake her up and ask her what the hell she meant by that

[mariposa-writes]

Good Sleep - LaMelo Ball

Summary: hate writing these, so just read and find out.

A/N: This man is the love of my life (and his brothers).

It was hard, dating an NBA player. Not that it was Melo's fault. He tried to make things as easy as possible. He called whenever he could, making sure to at least check in on me once a day.

It wasn't like I made things any easier. I took a lot of pride in my job and it felt like a lot of the time when he was home, I was busy working.

Which is what I am currently doing. Its around midnight, when I hear the garage open, I know it's Melo. His team was supposed to get back earlier tonight, but their flight got delayed due to weather.

After a few minutes he enters our room. I moved in with him a 6 months ago, since I practically lived there full time anyways. We both also thought it would be a good way to spend more time together.

"Hey, babe." He says walking over to me and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. He heads into our bathroom, getting ready to shower. He hates how he feels after plane rides, always complaining about being dirty. "What are you working on?" He calls from the bathroom.

"Just work stuff." I respond, not having the time to explain. I have to have these reports ready by Monday. I'm a CFO for a major clothing company in the US. We are currently working on expanding to European countries.

Melo showers while I work and before I know it he's climbing into bed. "Babe," He whines, "when are you going to bed?"

"I don't know, soon." I answer, dismissively. He frowns, looking up at me from where he's laying.

"You work to hard. Your not even 22 and your the CFO for a major company. I worry you're gonna work yourself to death." Melo's always hated how hard I work. We've been dating since we were both 19.

I was getting ready to graduate college, when he was getting drafted into the NBA. Being born a genius helped me fast track my schooling and career.

I started interning with the company I currently work at when I was 17, the summer after my junior year. I started working with them when they were just a start up, but in the past four years they have rapidly grown and I've been a part of the process the whole way.

This company is like my baby and I'm the one that has to track everything to make sure we are achieving our goals. I never intended on working here this long, but I love the people I work with (the pay isn't bad either).

They promoted me to CFO when their old one left to work for a bigger company. What an idiot, they didn't have believe in the company and soon ours will be bigger than the one they are working for.

Three hours later and I'm still working, Melo's passed out. After he fell asleep I headed to the office he set up for me, not wanting to wake him.

I have a blanket wrapped around me, with my headphones in and a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the desk. Once I get this done, I'll be on Monday and present to our investors I will be on vacation for the next 9 days.

I haven't told Melo yet, wanting to surprise him since our schedules rarely line up.

I look up from my computer, when I see the hallway light turn on. I take my headphones out, knowing it's Melo. He walks into my office, frowning. "Babe, go to bed." He groans.

"Ok, just give me a few minutes."

"Nope, you always say that and then a few minutes turn into another hour or two and then you're only getting like 2 hours of sleep before you head into the office." He walks over and shuts my laptop, before pulling me out of the chair.

I whine and protest the whole way back to our bed, but he doesn't seem to care. He makes me lay down and tucks me in like I'm a little kid, before climbing in bed next to me.

Once he's in bed his, arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me closer resting his head on my stomach. "Finally, I can sleep now."

"You've been asleep this whole time." I argue.

"Yea, but now I'll get good sleep. I only get good sleep when you're with me." I smile, even though he can't see me. I continue playing with his hair, before we both drift of to sleep in each other's arms.

[lifechanyuan]

10. Valuing Visualization

Visualization refers to a vivid, future-oriented image that forms in one’s mind through unconscious mental activities, where you can envision yourself being part of that future scenario

Visualization belongs to the phenomenon of the negative universe, but after a few years or decades, when you find yourself in that scenario, the image becomes a reality in the material world.

We can also say that visualization is an imagined illusion, but surprisingly, this illusion will materialize in the real world in the near future, becoming a real environment.

Here are two examples:

In 1980, when I was studying at the Zhangjiakou Geological Technical School in Hebei, one Sunday evening, I sat by the railway tracks behind the school, looking at the smoking village. Suddenly, I envisioned a scene where I was teaching at a high school not far from a small town. The school had assigned me a two-room house with a fenced yard where I had grown vegetables like eggplants, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, and peppers, and raised a few chickens.

This vision appeared only once and then disappeared. I didn’t dwell on it, but eight years later, in 1988, one day while watering the vegetables in the backyard of my house at the No. 2 Middle School, three kilometers away from the Pingyuanbao town in Zhangye, Gansu province, I suddenly recalled the vision from that evening in Zhangjiakou. Upon comparison, the imagined scenario and the reality matched almost perfectly, as I was also raising a few chickens and had a fenced yard.

In the rainy season of 1996, while I was having tea with the manager of the Gansu International’s Zimbabwe branch on the green lawn chairs by the swimming pool of Villa 48 in Harare, (at that time, a black gardener named Jack was tidying up the garden nearby), he said, ‘It’s strange. Eight years ago, when I was a teacher at a normal school, one day I imagined this scene: I had a villa in some African country with green lawns and a swimming pool. After swimming, I sat under a sun umbrella, and a black servant in a white coat served me tea. Isn’t today’s scene exactly like my imagination?’

My reaction was one of astonishment. Recalling my own fulfilled mental imagery, I realized that such phenomena are not accidental. I thought back to when I was seven or eight years old, enjoying standing at the edge of the fields at dusk, watching the beautiful sunset and imagining traveling to the farthest place where the sun sets—a place of perpetual spring, bird songs, and flowers, like a fairyland. Thirty years later, I indeed came to Zimbabwe, the farthest west from my hometown (Yongjing County by the Yellow River). I’ve lived in a villa for several years, with green lawns in the front and back, and every morning I can see and hear a variety of birds catching insects and singing in the yard. The environment here is beautiful, the climate pleasant, with flowers blooming all year round. At Forest Road 10, where I lived, the yard had sixty-four different tree species, clearly turning my imagination into reality.

Another example is when my child was in junior high, I told him to often consciously and unconsciously visualize himself attending university in the United States. Six years later, he indeed got admitted to a university in the U.S. with excellent grades.

The transition from unconscious to conscious visualization was facilitated by the Bible. One early morning in 1996, while driving from Harare to Mutare at 3:30 AM, I fell asleep at the wheel while driving at a speed of 165 km/h. When I woke up, I found that the car had collided with a large concrete milestone. The car was damaged, but I was unscathed. Miraculously, if the point of impact on the stone had been just a foot forward or backward, the car would have rolled down the slope, leading to dire consequences. My first thought was, “god saved me.” Three days later, a kindly old couple, Jehovah’s Witnesses, came to see me, saying they wanted to discuss the Bible with me. I welcomed them without hesitation. This marked the beginning of over four years of Bible study. As my studies deepened, unconscious mental images continued to emerge, depicting scenes from the 36-dimensions of space, the Thousand-year World, the Ten-Thousand-Year World, the Earth Universe, the negative universe, the workings of the Dao, the origins of Buddha, the times of Adam and Eve, the dinosaur era, Noah’s era, and future times. It seemed as if time and space had disappeared, no longer existing.

During the Christmas season of 2000, I arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa. Gazing at the vast blue horizon, I conceived the idea of Lifechanyuan.

Visualization is not about fantasies, daydreams, or delusions. It is a realistic mental image that emerges naturally when you are in a serene, harmonious atmosphere, free from material desires. This mental image appears in a state of forgetting oneself and the surroundings. It will not appear when you are busy, worried, tired, or full of desires.

Visualization may seem like an illusion, but it is a real scene that transcends time and space. With increased self-improvement and self-cultivation, it will undoubtedly appear in your mind. Once it does, it becomes your future, no matter how much you strive or struggle. The negative universe will inevitably lead you to the place in your visualization.

11. Becoming Unconscious of the Boundary Between Oneself and the External World

The term “external world” refers to the material world, while “oneself” refers to self-consciousness.

Becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world is a high-level spiritual state or an actual celestial realm that those with great wisdom and insight can reach.

This state has three levels:

Becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world is the highest level of intermediate self-improvement and the lowest level of advanced self-improvement.

How to verify if one has reached the state of becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world?

When frequent wars and human suffering on Earth do not affect you; when the death of a loved one brings no sadness; when losing all your possessions and facing bankruptcy leaves you unfazed; and when facing death brings no fear, you have reached the state of becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world. At this point, you have little humanity left.

When you feel completely comfortable, your mind extremely relaxed, flying through celestial realms you have never visited; when you don’t know where you came from and have forgotten your past, even seeing your parents doesn’t overly excite you; when you see no hunger, poverty or wealth, nobility or lowliness, disease, death, or private property; when you don’t understand concepts like possession, construction, destruction, truth, beauty, goodness, falsehood, evil, ugliness, dignity, or safety, and can’t distinguish between you, me, and them, and everything seems so beautiful, wonderful, unrestricted, and exhilarating; when you no longer feel the existence of time, with no distinction between day and night, you have reached the state of becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world. In reality, your physical body has died, and you have arrived in the Thousand-year World or the Ten-Thousand-Year World.

At the point of becoming unconscious of the boundary between oneself and the external world, you have attained the nature of Buddha.

[chaoticevilbean]

Another Star Wars AU, TBN*

*To-Be-Named

I love time travel. A lot. So here is a time-travel au, with the CW trio.

Somehow, perhaps by touching a Sith artifact, perhaps by the Force deciding they should, perhaps from some sort of weird ritual the locals were performing that the trio didn't know about, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Anakin, Rex, and Cody travel aback in time.

[Please keep in mind that Canon Timeline has died tragically in a fire, and I am but the weeping widow with an inheritance.]

Due to whatever happened, they all also end up (technically) deaging. They still have their memories and their knowledge and skills, just stuck in smaller bodies. They can think and act like adults, but they also have to struggle a bit more to implement Older Skills in Younger Bodies.

Ahsoka is 2. She's nubby. She's emotional. She's tired and sore from her deaging.

She wakes up in someone's office. She's in a spinny chair, a big one with leather padding. It's kind-of chilly in the room.

She's not thinking, because all her brain is putting together is that she's still tired. She grabs the jacket off the back of the chair and pulls it over herself. She goes back to sleep.

Rex and Cody wake up together.

They are their actual age, which is to say they're both about eleven.

They find themselves on Mandalore. In the more wild areas.

(let me believe that there are parts of the planet that aren't covered in city)

(also, this is the Mandalore in the cartoons)

They find a teen trying to wake them both up. Rex has absolutely no clue what's going on. Cody has a vague idea, because this girl looks very similar to a picture he once saw...

Obi-Wan does not fare as well. He is 3.

He wakes up in someone's arms. He's just as tired and sore as the other three. However, he's also got more awareness because he's in someone's arms.

He looks up to see who's carrying him.

He looks around at the people walking with them.

He starts crying. He cannot help this, as he is suddenly flooded with Emotions, and he is Smol. Smol = harder to handle Emotions.

Because Qui-Gon is walking right next to him, tapping away on a holopad as they go. Dooku is on his other side, on a comm call where both parties sound very tired.

And Obi-Wan is being held... by Obi-Wan.

So, yeah, not that great for a suddenly Smol Obi.

Now, Anakin is 8, so he's better off in that perspective.

But he wakes up on some remote planet without anyone around. He just was in the middle of a group, so he ends up kinda panicking.

Then he hears something coming towards him, and he panics more.

He's Tiny! He's Smol! He's massively at a disadvantage against attacks! He can't fight off whatever is on a planet like this!

It's Mace (and Depa).

Anakin, however, doesn't realize this. He has gone Feral.

Back to the beginning

Jango Fett has been very busy w/Important Mand'alor Paperwork all day. He finally has time to go and relax a little, and he makes it all the way down to the exit before he realizes:

It is really cold outside. He is not in armor bc he was planning to only do paperwork today (though he still has many weapons). When one plans to stay in the same room for almost the entire day, one does not wear normal garb.

That said, he has no protection from the cold. He forgot his jacket upstairs. He rushes back up to his office.

He distinctly remembers that he left the jacket on the back of his chair, not on the seat.

He also is wondering what that lump is.

He arms himself, grabs some of his "emergency" armor plating, and walks over to the chair.

He lifts his jacket up, expecting a bomb or some paperwork that fell off the desk, or something logical.

He does not expect to find a tiny Togruta child clinging onto the fabric, whining as they're woken up by his yanking of the jacket.

Jango's brain stutters for a moment, then he kicks into action.

First things first, he wraps the jacket around the Togruta. They thankfully stay asleep. Then he turns up the heat, because he knows the office has gotten colder in the twenty minutes or so he's been gone, and Togruta are from warm temperate zones.

He decides to call, in this order, a guard who can help him watch the Togruta (they did break in, after all), a medic to check the Togruta’s health, and the first person he can find in his contacts that might know an adult Togruta.

Next group

Rex and Cody manage to get the teen to stop fussing over them for long enough to ask for her name.

Her, clearly lying, but that’s understandable: My name is Ine.

Cody, who knows exactly who this is now: Oh, kriff. You’re Duchess Satine, aren’t you? Kriff.

Rex: Wait, Satine? As in the General’s Satine?

Satine, now very suspicious and reaching for her stunner: I think you need proper medical attention.

Cody, looking down at their eleven-year-old selves: Yeah, I think so, too.

They agree on one thing, at least.

Next

Obi-Wan is crying. Loudly, uncontrollably, w/too many Emotions to even care that he’s supposed to be an adult rn.

Other Obi-Wan is very uncomfortable, bc he doesn’t know how to handle children too well.

They found this kid unconscious in the middle of a ruined, abandoned town.

Obi-Wan was meant to hold this kid while Qui-Gon did research and Master Dooku tried to convince the Council that it was entirely necessary to bring the kid back to Coruscant. Granted, they can still give the child to the locals at any time before they make it back to their ship, but apparently the Force is Being Loud.

The Force was Being Loud when it told Master Dooku to come along.

The Force was Being Loud when it led them to that town.

Qui-Gon and Dooku have argued fifteen and a half times on this mission, and an additional six times on the flight here. Obi-Wan is trying to mediate but also doesn’t want to overstep. The Force is Being Loud, sure, but the kid is also Force-sensitive so it might be something off that.

He didn’t argue with holding the kid bc he thought that it was better than being caught between the Masters.

Holding a crying child and trying to get two adults to stop arguing bc they can’t decide how to comfort the kid is not better.

Obi-Wan keeps walking past them to the ship with this baby. He does what he’s seen some crechemasters do to the younglings. The kid eventually calms a little, and he belatedly realizes that both Masters are still behind him, not with him.

NEXT

Anakin is panakin.

He is currently in a state of Feralness. His instincts have kicked into overdrive, full-on Survival Mode.

Depa and Mace do not know this. All they know is that there was suddenly an extremely powerful Force presence that started fading quickly (bc Anakin started shielding).

They burst into sight of Anakin and are suddenly attacked by all four feet and some of Feral Force Child.

It’s all they can do for a good minute or so to avoid losing their fingers, eyes, or untorn clothes.

Mace puts a few things together very quickly.

This planet is uninhabited by any sapient life. Therefore, this child is utterly alone. This child also is clearly strong in the Force, and knows how to hide their presence, for whatever reasons. Mace is a Jedi, and therefore is bound by certain duties.

He decides it is his Duty to get this kid back to Coruscant safely.

Back to the beginning

Ahsoka wakes up to find a familiar face looking down at her. She’s still tired, but not as much. She’s very aware of her size, and does a few quick observations.

She does not fully know who Jango Fett is. She does know that some clones run off bc they hate war and weren’t given a choice an- no. Not going down that path yet.

Ahsoka assumes, semi-incorrectly, that she was shrunk or deaged and somehow found by a rogue clone.

She knows it’s a rogue clone bc they’ve got weird armor.

So she does the logical thing and tries to comfort this clone bc he looks really worried and kinda panicked. She stands up on the spinny chair and tries to balance and he practically lunges to help her and she can’t help but giggle, but it comes out in a bunch of chirps instead.

The clone picks her up and looks really awkward so she pats his face bc that’s the best she can do bc she doesn’t want to disprove the fact she’s two yet.

For all she knows, this rogue clone has no idea she’s actually a Commander in the GAR.

He doesn’t, but for different reasons than she thinks.

NEXT

Rex and Cody go with Satine to the city. They have introduced themselves and said that they were separated from their aliit. They don't know where said aliit is.

Satine is highly suspicious by this point, bc these two kids recognized her with only part of her name, and they were alone, and they speak Basic with Mando'a thrown in.

Basically, she thinks that they're children of people like Death Watch, but she's too young to know that Death Watch isn't really into children.

Rex and Cody get checked over by a medic, but also start trying to get access to some working comms. They are refused on account of being suspicious children (which makes them a little upset bc they're not children)(Well, they are, but not those types of children)

They have not yet figured out that they are in the past, bc Cody and Rex only know that General Kenobi talks about Duchess Satine, and they know about Padme Amidala from General Skywalker, so clearly this Duchess is really young and the General simply viewed her as someone he wants to protect.

They are very very very wrong.

NEXT

Obi-Wan manages to calm himself somewhat now that it's just him and... him.

He is three, and he knows roughly what's happening, so he knows he should probably act like a 3yo.

Unfortunately, he has very little understanding of how child ages work. 3 is smart enough to go up the stairs and communicate with adults, but def. not old enough to speak sentences that are 15 words long with at least 2 5-syllable words.

Fortunately, his older (younger?) self doesn't know children either.

So when this 3yo starts telling him that he needs to leave the two Masters on the planet and head to Tatooine really fast, Obi-Wan is more concerned about the idea than the strangeness of "this is a 3yo suggesting this".

Obi-Wan is really good at convincing people. Including himself. He manages to get Padawan Kenobi to leave supplies where the ship is supposed to be and head towards Tatooine.

He says that the Masters will be fine, they know how to survive, and they need to be alone together in order to work through all the tension. Plus, it gives them plenty of time to talk to the Council.

Toddler Kenobi also tells himself that he'll take the blow and say he used a mind-trick.

Padawan Kenobi doesn't believe him yet, but Toddler Kenobi smiles like a very smug adult and says "you'll get there eventually". What he truly means is up in the air.

NEXT

Anakin, since waking up, knows much less than everyone else. Which is saying something.

He knows he's Smol. He knows he's Alone. He knows Someone has come and they are Strangers.

One thing about Anakin's instincts is that they are very much Survival Based. He was Feral when he joined the Jedi, only he had to hold those instincts back for most of his life bc of being a slave.

A slave cannot bite someone who approaches and Vibes Wrong.

By the time he felt okay with being Feral Out Loud, he also felt safe enough that he didn't need to activate his Survival Mode.

What I'm trying to say is that Anakin does not realize how strong his Feral Instincts are. He has absolutely no control over them rn.

When Mace decides to Help this child, this child is trying to Maul them.

Mace makes a small ruckus to draw Anakin's attention to him so Depa can move back. Depa pulls out her saber now that she won't hit the kid. The kid notices Purple and Bright and Lightsaber.

Lorge Jedi Mind says this is Good. Safe. Jedi.

Smol Feral Brain says this is Dangerous. Mean.

Anakin freezes on sight and just starts tracking Depa's saber. She does one of those things where a snake or something is focused and the person waves the fire or the food slowly to make sure the wolf is watching it and usually they toss the thing away so the snake follows it.

Mace instead takes this opportunity to wrap Anakin in his cloak. And Depa's cloak. And the spare ones in their bags.

Feral Child is not happy with this. Feral Child is also unable to scratch or Maul or do things other than bite and snarl.

Depa carries Feral Child while Mace comms the Temple and they walk back to their ship.

The Temple is having a field day.

First, one of their Shadows reports that a well-known bounty hunter got an emergency message from a pal of theirs that said Jango Fett needs help learning Togruta childcare.

Then they get a call from Dooku, which is not the mission report they wanted.

Yoda: Mission report, you have?

Dooku: Of a sort. We successfully spoke with the locals, then went to investigate a rather large disturbance.

Mundi: A disturbance?

Dooku: We found the source to be a Force-sensitive child.

Mundi: So you are here to ask for more time on the planet?

Dooku:...

Yoda: Bring the child back, you wish to?

Dooku, unapologetic: He is of an acceptable age to be admitted into the Temple, and no other beings were around at the time to entertain the idea of there being guardians.

The Council is sighing and muttering bc this is a Disaster Lineage (and they haven't even met the other two yet). Their call is interrupted by the sound of crying and Dooku saying the child's woken up.

Then there's another Shadow who sends a message saying a set of twins that seem like Death Watch were found by the heir of Clan Kryze.

Finally, to top everything off, they get a call from Mace Windu and Depa Billaba. Two very dignified, not-at-all chaotic Jedi from a perfectly respectable lineage.

Yeah, most of the Council and the Order itself forgets that Yoda had a hand in raising Windu. Yoda "Feral Grandpa" who throws children at every problem. Grandson isn't doing too well? Throw a child his way. Other grandchild is struggling to cope with grief? Throw another child their way. Oh, there's a war going on and newest grandchild is angry a lot? Here's a child!

The entire lineage has a soft spot for children.

Anyways...

Mace: Our mission was a success. We found the artifact and both specimens.

Koth: How long until your return?

Mace:...

Yoda: Found a child, you did?

Gallia: Master Yoda, that's a rather illogical guess. Once is unusual, twice is-

Mace: Oh, did Qui-Gon find a child as well?

Yoda, smugly: Bringing the child back, are you?

Depa, from the background, after a rather loud snarl is heard: We do not bite things, young one.

*more snarling*

Mace: We have no reason to believe he was not alone.

Tiin: *deep sighing*

Mundi: *mild confusion noises*

Koon, eagerly: Please send photos of this youngling. For the archives, of course.

Mace, nodding sagely: Of course.

*extremely loud yowl* *sounds of Mace turning*

Mace: DEPA!

Depa: He nearly bit off my finger!

Mace: That doesn’t mean you pinch him!

Depa: What else am I supposed to do?!

*sudden exclamation filled solely of Mando’a, Huttese and Twi’leki curses*

Mace: So, I don’t know if he speaks Basic, but Master Che should be able to talk him through a check-up.

Yeah, several Council members are experiencing headaches now. Normally, they would have some empathy for Mace and his own stress-induced migraines. They currently do not.

Right after that call, Dooku calls back to say that Obi-Wan has left without them.

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Dooku:

Mundi: He left the child with you, right?

Obi-Wan did not leave himself with the Masters. Obi-Wan has listened to Mini-Obi and is off on some wild space adventure to a criminal-run planet.

The toddler won’t stop staring at him. He asks for a name. The kid says to call him Ben.

OW: Is that your name?

“Ben”: It is a name I am called :)

OW: That isn’t what I meant.

“Ben”: I know :)

Ben also keeps staring at OW’s lightsaber. OW decides to make sure the kid doesn’t start playing with it when he isn’t looking.

MEANWHILE

Ahsoka has figured out that she was really very oh-so wrong. She’s on Mandalore. As in, the Mandalore that is under Jango Fett. Bc she’s with Jango Fett. He’s holding her hand bc she was nervous about the strange looking medic (who was just wearing armor, but not clone armor and civies don’t wear armor.)

Ahsoka knows very little about Jango Fett. Clone Buir, Mandalorian leader, tried to kill Master Kenobi. Also dead.

He asks how she got in. She shrugs. She is too small to fight back so she can’t let him know anything. Whatever everything is right now. But also, he doesn’t seem mean or evil or anything.

Oh yeah. Skyguy said that Mandos love children. That's why the clones were so protective of her, even with Skyguy on her side of the argument.

She decides to use this to her advantage. She can probably get herself a comm, and enough time to call the Temple. If she can convince them she at least knows a Jedi, then they can come get her and she'll work from there.

ELSEWHERE

Rex and Cody are getting really upset. This Duchess is really nice, but she's acting really weird and keeps insisting she's not actually called Duchess. No one will give them a comm, they keep getting weird looks for speaking Mando'a even though they're on Mandalore, and Satine's father keeps mentioning a Fett. Maybe Boba's set a bad example again.

Rex starts to fall asleep, to his chagrin. He's too bored, sitting and getting some abnormally extensive check-up. Cody is fine, but he's used to the calm that is General Kenobi. Rex usually has a Togruta teen in the vents and a Human that is never where he's supposed to be.

Rex does, in fact, fall asleep. His "twin" starts glaring when a doctor goes to wake him up. Cody makes it clear that his brother is like Cat: once asleep, you do not wake.

Satine is giggling, but trying not to let the others hear. Cody does. Cody looks at her. They have a stare-off.

Cody goes back to glaring at the doctors. He will not admit to any emotions besides Protect™.

BACK TO

Obi-Wan and Ben have made it to Tatooine.

[babygirl-diaz]

Captain America's Night Out

((Thanks to @sarastars for the idea!))

Sam and Steve buckled their 2-year-old twins into their booster seats before getting into the car. 

“So where are we going?” Sam asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” Steve replied as he started the car. 

When Steve took the freeway, Sam understood where he was going. “Are we going to New Orleans?” He asked. 

“Yes,” was all Steve said. 

The ride was quiet, and Sam leaned against the door, resting his head on the window. He was exhausted. He’d just come back from a grueling mission. But it was his birthday, and Steve had planned something special.

Sam heard cooing noises in the back and turned around to find Riley wide awake in his seat while Paul was fast asleep. “Hey, baby boy, what you doing awake?” 

“Papa, play,” the toddler replied and threw his little basketball at Sam. Sam caught it and gently threw it back at the little boy. They played for a little while and Sam noticed Steve throwing glances their way and smiling. Riley soon abandoned the game and fell asleep. Sam smiled at the boys before leaning over to kiss Steve’s cheek. Steve had a full-grown beard now and Sam liked it that way. 

It took a while, but they finally arrived in New Orleans and Steve drove them into the Central Business District and turned into Canal street before coming to a stop. 

Sam’s eyes widened when he realized where they were. “What are we doing at the Sheraton?” He asked. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Steve replied, smirking. 

Steve was apparently going for valet parking, and the valets opened the doors for them and let them out. They got their babies out of the car as well before going into the hotel. The manager came to greet them and talked to Steve like he had known him for ages. The manager, Jamie, then led them to the elevator and up to the rooftop, much to Sam’s surprise. He thought they were there to have dinner at the hotel restaurant. From what Sam knew about this hotel, the rooftop just had a pool. Jamie made small talk throughout their elevator ride and when they got to the top and the elevator doors opened, Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. They had decorated the whole rooftop with fairy lights and there was a canopy near the pool with a table under it that had two chairs and two booster chairs. There were candles on the table, as well as two wine glasses. 

“This way,” Jamie led them to the table. Sam and Steve put Riley and Paul in their booster seats —who were fully awake now and, surprisingly, not crying. Once they got the kids settled, Sam and Steve sat down as well and Jamie asked what wine he could get them. 

“Sauvignon Blanc,” Steve replied. Which was their favorite wine (that is when they occasionally drank wine). 

Jamie nodded and went away and once he was out of earshot, Sam looked at Steve. “Steve, you really didn’t have to do all this,” he told his husband. 

“Sweetheart, of course, I did. After everything you do, not just for us, but also for the rest of the world, this is nothing,” Steve replied and reached out to take Sam’s hand. Sam smiled as he squeezed Steve’s hand. 

Jamie soon came back with the wine and a server to help them further. Jamie poured the wine while the server set down the apple juice for the twins. The server, Christian, took their orders and then headed back downstairs to get their food. Jamie wished Sam a happy birthday and told them to just call him over the phone if they needed anything else. 

“You could have done this in Delacroix. Why did you bring us all the way to New Orleans?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. 

“There’s another surprise for you.” 

Sam raised his eyebrow, “Really?” 

Steve blushed a little and nodded his head. “Yep. Besides, we haven’t been anywhere as a family lately.”

The little ones happily drank their apple juice and talked to each other in their own gibberish language that they had established when they were a year old. 

The food soon arrived, and both Sam and Steve got a fish dish. There were chicken nuggets and apple slices for the toddlers, and they happily fed themselves. Sam cut up a tiny portion of his fish and gave it to Paul with some veggies, while Steve did the same with his food for Riley. 

They ate and drank and talked, but kept Sam’s current mission out of the conversation. Steve always knew when Sam didn’t want to talk about a mission, so he went out of his way to avoid talking about it. Instead, they talked about Steve’s upcoming art exhibition in Delacroix. Sam was more nervous than Steve because Steve heavily featured him in his art. 

They finished eating and soon Christian arrived with a chocolate cake that was lit up with two candles that read 44. He placed the smaller plates in front of them and took the dinner plates away and wished Sam a happy birthday and got his autograph in his notebook. 

Steve sang Sam the happy birthday song, and the kids tried to sing along but failed miserably. After it all finished, Sam blew out the candles. But as soon as he did, Sam heard a loud crackling sound in the distance. Sam looked up and saw red, white, and blue fireworks exploding in the sky. 

“It’s not Fourth of July, why are they- wait a second.” Realization dawned on Sam. “Was this the other surprise?” 

Steve grinned and nodded his head, “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” 

Sam looked at his husband in awe before pulling him in for a hug. When he pulled away, he asked, “But how?” 

“I talked to the mayor, and he agreed that our Captain America deserved fireworks.” 

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” Sam said in awe. 

“Anything for you, my love.” Steve leaned in and kissed him. Sam eagerly kissed him back as the fireworks kept exploding in the background.

Sam heard clapping, and he pulled away from the kiss to find their toddlers laughing and clapping their hands.

Sam chuckled as he cut into the cake and fed some to Steve and then to the twins. They each then picked up the twins and carried them over to the edge of the roof and stood there watching the fireworks. Sam leaned against Steve and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Thank you for tonight.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Steve wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and held him close. 

[study-coffee-chicago]

Drunk Face (A Halstead brothers + Halstead sister! Imagine)

"Bye Y/N," Jay started as he grabbed his last duffle bag from beside the kitchen table. "Make good choices. Don't do anything stupid. Will's on shift tonight, but best believe I will find service if I get a call from him saying you got brought into Med or from a fellow cop saying that you got picked up."

"Jay, relax. I'll be fine. This isn't my first weekend staying home alone by myself," you said.

"Yes, but it's the first time you'll be home alone for the weekend when you're 21. That's what I worry about."

"Who says I didn't drink when I was home alone before I was 21?"

"Excuse me?" Jay asked, setting his duffle back down on the floor.

"I'm kidding. I wouldn't try that with you as my brother. If it was just Will, maybe."

"Nice to know I'm the stricter one."

"Jay, babe," Hailey asked as she walked back into the apartment, "you ready?"

"Yeah, just telling Y/N to make good choices," he replied as he picked up his bag once more.

"No, he just doesn't trust me, that's what this is, Hailey," you said.

"Jay, be nice to Y/N. She's a good kid. She'll be fine," Hailey said and brushed her arm up against Jay.

"She's 21."

"Pretty sure she only drinks seltzers. It's hard to get drunk super fast off of those unless you shotgun them."

"What's that?"

"Nothing!" they both exclaimed.

"Okay, okay. I'll just google it." Jay opened the door and let Hailey out first and then followed her out. "Have fun! Use protection!" you yelled before you closed the door.

"My God," Jay laughed. "You've been spending way too much time with Adam."

"Leave! Make smart choices!" Then, you closed the door behind them for a weekend by yourself.

A few hours later you got home from the liquor store with your premade mango Jose Cuervo margarita. First, you grabbed a lemon-y kind of beer from the mini-fridge where Jay kept all the alcohol. You drank that with your dinner. Then, you turned on your favorite tv show and poured yourself a glass of that mango margarita.

***

God, you didn't even feel that drunk. You had drank a can of that beer and two and a half glasses of that mango margarita...which was about 1/2-2/3 of the bottle...and it was a big bottle.

You walked upstairs to go to the bathroom. You were a little buzzed, but not as bad as one time when you drank a margarita and three white claws. And, you drank those fast and you just fell asleep with a dopey, drunk smile on your face. You were hungover the next day, but you were just tired; you'd never thrown up from drinking before. You just kept your buzz going for a bit.

But, when you sat on the toilet and started going to the bathroom, you felt sweat start to bead on your face. "Aw, shit," you muttered.

You took a deep breath and stood up to wash your hands. As you were standing up, you started to get hot and your stomach started to hurt. The world seemed to spin a bit, too. So, after you washed your hands, you just laid down on the fluffy, light blue rug of the bathroom, breathing in and out slowly and occasionally groaning in pain.

Eventually, you decided to stand up, grab some water, and made your way to your room. Since you were already in your pajamas, you just went right to bed, after all, it was after midnight.

You laid in bed and tried to get the pain in your stomach to stop by changing positions and jamming your knee into your stomach.

Bad plan.

You felt the familiar feeling of a lump rising in your throat. But, you were so tired and buzzed that you hoped this wouldn't happen.

But, then it did, all the alcohol came up and out of your mouth, leaving you with the stale taste of margarita in your mouth and vomit all over your shirt and bedsheets.

God, you thought of just falling asleep right there. But, that was disgusting.

So, you grabbed your phone and made your way to the bathroom. You were still sweating, practically panting at this point while you leaned over the toilet, just trying to keep it down.

This was hell.

This had never happened before...and you had drank the same amount before.

Something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact you just started a new acne medication a week ago. Yeah, that was probably it. It had to be that, it just had to be.

You heaved and then puked again.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your phone from the bathroom counter. You couldn't call Will. He was on shift and if he had to come, he'd most definitely tell Jay and then he'd never let you stay home alone overnight again.

So, you chose a different number: Kim Burgess.

"C'mon...pick up..." you muttered.

"Hello?"

Shit, that wasn't Kim. It was Adam. Had you called the wrong number? Were they sleeping together? You knew they were basically together, but to find out in this kind of way was kind of weird. Were they--

"Y/N? Hello?" Adam asked again.

"Y/N's calling?" you heard Kim say in the background.

You felt the familiar lump in your throat and puked again.

"Y/N! Are you okay? Are you there?" Adam asked frantically.

"Put it on speaker," you heard Kim say.

"Y/N, you're on speaker. What's going on?"

You wiped your mouth. "I- I drank too much and I'm on a new acne medication and I'm throwing up and I can't call Will because he's working and I don't know what to do," you rushed out before you could puke again. "Can you come over?"

"We'll be right there. Hang tight, kid," Adam said. "Me and Kim are on our way."

"You need us to stay on the phone, Y/N?" Kim asked.

"No, I- I should be fine until you get here."

"Okay, we'll be there soon."

One of the two hung up the phone and you started to feel hot again, but your stomach didn't hurt. And, even though laying on the rug of your bathroom with alcohol-smelling vomit on your shirt wasn't the best idea, you did it anyway because you were so tired.

***

"He's gotta be the stupidest person alive to put his spare key above his door. That's where everyone puts it. Dumbass," Adam said to Kim as they stood outside your apartment door.

"Adam, just open the damn door," Kim told him.

Adam reached the key and unlocked the door. "Alexa, play Drunk Face by Machine Gun Kelly," Adam joked.

"Adam! Not the time!"

Kim started walking around the apartment, trying to find you. "Y/N, where are you? It's Kim and Adam, no one's broken in. It's just us. We're here to help."

"Kim," Adam whispered. He nodded his head towards the bathroom door.

Kim threw herself to the floor and looked through the tiny crack. "She's in there. She's laying down."

Adam immediately went to open the door.

"Shit," he said when he saw you lying there with your eyes closed, vomit all on your shirt.

"Mhm, don't tell Will and Jay," you groaned.

"Oh thank God, she's conscious," Adam said.

"Y/N, can you stand up so we can get you out of these clothes? Maybe take a shower?" Kim suggested.

"Tired," you told her.

"I know, I know you're tired. But we have to get you out of these clothes before you can go to bed," Kim said. You groaned again. "How about Adam goes and grabs you a new shirt and then I help you into the shower. How does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Adam?"

"On it."

When Adam went to your room, he was immediately hit by the smell of vomit. You had planned on washing your sheets once you had cleaned yourself up, but you felt so bad, that you had just left it and figured you'd get to it when you finally got yourself up and out of the bathroom.

He quickly rifled through your dresser and found a t-shirt. Then, he went back upstairs to find the door closed, so he quickly knocked on it.

Kim had helped you take your shirt off and had thrown it in the sink. You were currently standing up, back facing her, as you waited for Adam to come back with your clean t-shirt.

"Babe, I grabbed the shirt. She okay in there?" Adam asked.

"Just about to take a shower," Kim answered. "Hand it to me when I open the door."

Kim opened the door and Adam handed her the shirt and then she handed it to you.

"Am I good to leave here, Y/N? Or do you need help?" Kim asked.

"I'll be fine," you told her. "But please don't tell Jay or Will."

"Y/N, you got drunk and went over your limits everyone does it. It's—"

"Please," you begged.

"Just, take a shower. We'll figure this out later."

"Okay."

Then, Kim left the bathroom and you took a shower.

"She puked on her bed," Adam said.

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said at the same time.

"Okay, wait," Adam started, "say yours again."

"She doesn't want us to tell Jay or Will," Kim said.

"Why not? Everyone does it at least once when they first start out drinking."

"I don't know. Maybe she didn't want to disappoint them?"

"Could be. So, do we tell them or not?"

"I mean, she asked us not to, and I don't think we should. She trusts us enough to call us, so I think we shouldn't break that trust."

"I guess you're right. But, we have another problem."

"And what's that?" Kim asked.

"She tossed her cookies on her sheets."

"Shit, okay," Kim sighed.

"Hey, thanks for coming," you said as you walked out of the bathroom five minutes later in clean pajamas. It's not like you had to wash your hair or anything, just your body.

"You're welcome," Kim said. She pulled a chair out from under the kitchen table and sat down. "Honey, Adam saw your sheets when he walked into your room to grab you a shirt. Do you need any help with that?"

"No, I was gonna clean it up and then I puked and I got hot and then I took a shower and—"

"Y/N, it's okay. We know you're exhausted because you just got all sick. So, how about you strip your bed and throw your sheets in the washer and me and Adam will make your bed. How's that sound?"

You nodded. "Thank you guys so much. And, you guys can take the margarita mix if you want. I never wanna taste that stuff again."

"Don't mind if we do."

"Adam!" Kim smacked him on the chest.

"What? Free alcohol."

"God, you're a college kid in a thirty-year-old's body."

"That's right. Now, let's get this college kid to bed."

***

"Ruz, where'd you get this?" Kevin asked when he saw the leftover margarita on Adam's desk that he brought to share with the unit.

"Oh, Y/N gave it to us when me and Kim went over to help her Friday night when she got shitfaced and puked all over," Adam answered casually.

Kim smacked his chest. "Adam!" She glanced over at Jay who was making his way over to them, an angry expression on his face.

"Y/N got shitfaced this weekend?" Jay asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Adam a stern look.

"Well, it wasn't really shitfaced because she was still fully conscious and lucid. She was a bit buzzed, and she puked."

"And you know this how?"

"Jay," Kim started, "she did the right thing. She didn't know what to do, so she called an adult."

"She called both of you?" Jay asked.

"Well, uh, she called me but Adam picked up since we were at my apartment..." Kim trailed off.

"Gotcha," Jay said. "Well, I'm glad you helped her. Thanks for that. But me and Will will definitely be having a conversation with her tonight."

***

"So, how was Wisconsin?" you asked as you, Jay, and Will sat down to eat some paninis you and Jay had cooked up later that night.

"It was great," Jay answered.

"What'd you do?"

"Went on the boat, slept in, jumped off in the lake, Hailey made cinnamon rolls, the usual," Jay answered.

"Do you two remember when you guys had me jump off in the middle of the lake without a life jacket?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah," Will laughed. "We had our asses handed to us by Mom after that."

"We gonna jump off, Will?" Eight-year-old you asked your oldest brother who had just come home from college for summer break.

"Duh," Jay replied. "That's the best part, silly!"

"Yes! That's so much fun!" You grabbed your little life jacket and Jay helped you into the boat because sometimes you'd get scared you'd fall into the water in the space between the boat and the dock.

"When can I drive the boat?" you asked as you sat down next to Jay and Will sat in the captain's chair and started backing the boat out.

"When you're eighteen," Will answered.

"But that's ten years!" you protested. "That's too long!"

"It'll go by fast," Jay promised.

"No, it won't." Jay just laughed at your remark.

Ten minutes later, you were out in the middle of the lake and Will was dropping anchor while Jay set up the ladder.

Once that was all set, Jay jumped off the boat without a life jacket. You followed him, but with a life jacket of course. After a few jumps, you took your life jacket off while you took a sip of your red kool-aid. You didn't have to wear your life jacket unless you were in the water. The boys were currently standing on the boat about to jump off again, but they started whispering amongst the two of them.

"Hey, Y/N," Jay started, "What do you think about jumping off the boat without a life jacket?"

"So, like you Will? Like big kids?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

"Exactly. Will would be in the water and I'd be up here and you'd just jump to him."

"I dunno. Mom and Dad always told me to wear my life jacket when I jump off. I don't wanna get in trouble."

"You won't."

Will jumped in the water and swam a bit further away than usual so you had room to jump in. "C'mon, Y/N! You've taken swimming lessons, you can do it!" he encouraged.

"I- I dunno, Will. How deep is it?"

"Um," he faltered. "Maybe ten of me?"

There's no way you'd be able to touch that!

"You'll be fine," Jay reassured. "Will will be right there. But, you gotta swim to him."

"He won't catch me? But, what if the water monsters get me and pull me under?"

"There's no water monsters," Jay told you.

But, if the water was as deep as Jay said it was, then how does he know?

"I changed my mind," you said quickly. "I want my life jacket back."

"Y/N, you'll be fine," Jay told you.

"No!" you wailed and reached for your life jacket, but Jay grabbed it and threw it in the water to Will.

"If you want it, you have to get it from Will," he told you."

"No!" your lip started to tremble and tears started to form in your eyes. "You get it!"

"Nope, it's yours. You get it."

"But you threw it!"

"And I'm gonna throw you in!"

You tried to run away, but it was too late. And, where would you go? You were on a boat after all.

"J--" You tried to yell, but you were already flying through the air and into the lake without a life jacket.

You hated the feeling of falling into the water without getting pulled back up immediately because of your life jacket. You had swallowed water, too so that wasn't helpful. You kicked your little legs as hard as you could to get back above the water, and when you did, you coughed and sputtered, trying to get the water out of your mouth and take in some much-needed air.

"Shit, Jay!" you heard Will yell as he quickly swam over to you with your life jacket and grabbed you by the waist. "Why'd you do that?" Then, he turned his attention to you. "It's okay, you're okay. Just breathe. I've got you. I've got you."

He set one hand on your back as you started climbing the ladder and then climbed up after you. Then, he shoved Jay in the water.

"What the hell, man?" Jay exclaimed when he broke the surface.

"Dude, I didn't know you were gonna throw her in! Mom's gonna kill you!"

"No, she's gonna kill us! You just swam there and let it happen!"

"You didn't jump off the boat without a parent there for a long time after that," Jay stated.

"And for good reason! I could've drowned!" you argued.

"Will was there. He would've gotten you."

"That's not the point! And I'm pretty sure that's the same logic Mom used when she took your car keys away from you for the rest of the summer and didn't let Will's girlfriend stay over when she was visiting him."

You ate your food for a bit and then Jay turned to you. "So, Y/N, we need to talk."

You gulped. There's no way Adam and Kim told him what happened! They promised!

"About what?" you asked.

"About you getting drunk on Friday night and calling Kim and Adam because you got sick," Jay explained.

"I don't know what you're--"

"Cut the bullshit. Adam told us in the bullpen today. So, I suggest you explain what happened."

So, you explained because you knew not to argue with Jay when he used that tone.

"Y/N, do you know about proofs on alcohol?" Jay asked.

"No, what are those?"

"It's the amount of alcohol in a drink. For example, seltzers typically have 3-5% alcohol in them, but margaritas like the one you apparently bought that Adam has now, has about 19% alcohol."

You widened your eyes. "So, I can't just go on how many glasses I'm drinking?"

"No way. Why do you think shots come in tiny glasses? Because they have lots of alcohol in a small volume."

"Oh, oops. Sorry."

"Y/N," Will started, "This isn't an oops thing. You could've seriously died from that if you kept drinking." You furrowed your eyebrows. "There's this thing called alcohol poisoning. It's when you drink too much alcohol in a short amount of time, so your body can't filter it in your liver fast enough. And, you just got on a new acne medication, so that's also filtered in your liver. Because of this, your liver's working overtime, which could be why you didn't feel super drunk but still threw up."

"Oh, okay." You knew you sounded dismissive, but you were embarrassed about what you'd done.

"Don't you get that this was dangerous?" Jay asked. "You could've died if you kept going!"

"Jay--"

"No, she needs to know this, Will. If you kept drinking, then you could've gotten seriously sick and had to go to the hospital! That's why bartenders cut people off: so they don't get sick because people can die from alcohol poisoning!"

"I'm sorry, okay! I'm embarrassed because I didn't think I even had that much and I didn't even know what a proof was!"

Jay's eyes softened. "Y/N, we're just trying to protect you. Why do you think we told you all that stuff about not leaving your drink unattended at a bar or watching the bartender make your drink and not just taking it from someone? It's because we're trying to keep you safe, Short Stack."

You nodded. "You're right. I really am sorry. And, you don't have to worry about me drinking a lot until I'm off that medication...or ever really."

Will chuckled. "Yeah, we figured as much."

A/N: I threw a few requests together and this is what I came up with. I wrote this in a day btw. (Also, I did get drunk like this once and I'm pretty sure it was because of the combination of the acne medication and the alcohol. Always drink responsibly and only drink if you're of the legal drinking age.) Anyway, thanks for reading and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As, always, just tell me if you want to be added to my taglist and I'll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies@brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch

[tojisveryown]

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

Ｒｅｑｕｅｓｔ: 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘠𝘶𝘫𝘪. 𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳?

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ: 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 20'𝘴

Ｗｏｒｄ ｃｏｕｎｔ: 1.9𝘬

Ｎｏｔｅｓ: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘨𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳

.  ღ  .

Itadori grew confused at the sudden knock on his door, it was way too late for it to be Nobara or Megumi. He turned on his side wrapping his blanket over him hoping the knocks would stop and whoever it was would just come back tomorrow. However the knocking didn’t stop which caused Itadori to groan as he got out of bed, putting a shirt on over his head he yawned as he came closer to the door 2:41am, Who the hell is at the door?

Itadori unlocked and opened his door, there stood his former sensei, Gojo Satoru next to him was a little girl around four years of age. 

“Yo Yuuji, how you been?” Gojo invited himself in dragging the little girl inside with him.

“Hey don’t just come in, it’s almost three am, and who is that?” Itadori eyed the little girl and he was reminded a lot of his ex-girlfriend, but not quite.

“Where’s your hospitality to your favorite sensei? I thought I taught you better.”

“Ha very funny, now what’s up why are you here?”

Gojo perked his lips together and leaned back on Itadori’s couch, he crossed his legs and observed his apartment, “Remember Y/N?”

Itadori’s memories of his ex flashed before his eyes, he remembered her alright. He remembered that he cheated on her and ever since he hasn’t really been dating. “Yeah what about her? She doing alright?” 

“I guess you could say that-” Gojo was cut off by the sudden ring of his phone “Mmh- oh? Okay, I’ll be there. Sorry Yuuji we’ll have to continue some other time, higher-ups need me.” Gojo gave the little girl seated next to him some candy and patted her head before he left, he gave Yuuji one final wave and hurried off to Jujutsu Tech. 

“Hey wait you forgot- you forgot your kid??” Itadori looked at the little girl and she was fast asleep on his sofa. “Cute.” 

.  ღ  .

The next day Itadori woke up and walked over to his kitchen. “Huh, that was a weird dream- holy shit!” surprised at the little girl who was sleeping on his couch, he took a few steps back causing his back to crash into the wall “Huh so it wasn’t a dream? Who even is that.” 

He shrugged and made his way to his kitchen making himself some breakfast. As he was eating he noticed a pair of eyes staring at him, “Hey, what do you want for breakfast?” 

The little girl rubbed her eyes and with a soft and small voice she said “Pancakes, please.” Itadori mentally clutched his heart and nodded his head, making his way to the counter, he began to create the pancake mixture, using the recipe him and his ex used to use. He began to let his mind wander to what Gojo was about to say. He brushed off the thought and poured the mixture onto the hot pan.

The little girl stood behind the doorframe leading into the kitchen with her head poking out, Itadori smiled and flipped the pancake. This could’ve been us, if only I didn’t fuck it up.

Itadori finished making the pancakes and plated them nicely on one of his cream white plates getting a fork and some syrup. He placed the plate on his counter and motioned the little girl to sit down at one of the chairs 

“Do you want anything to drink, orange juice? Apple juice? A smoothie?” 

The little girl looked up at Itadori after stuffing her face with the fluffy pancakes he had made, a small voice spoke “Water please.” 

“Are you sure?” The little girl nodded.

After breakfast Itadori noticed that the little girl had no change of clothes nor did she carry anything with her, she must be uncomfortable in the same clothes. “Hey, do you wanna go shopping?” the little girl looked over at him with a questioning look, “We can get ice cream if you’d like too um.. er.. what’s your name?” 

“Hana, can we get strawberry?” 

Itadori smiled and nodded, he lifted Hana up on his shoulders and together they entered the train station. 

Hana ended up falling asleep on Itadori’s shoulder, Itadori was in awe. He took a picture of them together while Hana was sleeping and sent it to Gojo, reminding him that he left a whole child in the hands of someone she doesn’t know. 

.  ღ  .

They entered the mall and as they were heading over to the ice cream stand Hana gripped onto Itadori’s hand, “Hey what’s wrong?” 

Her grip tightened and she let out the words “Don’t wanna get lost.” He smiled and lifted her up onto his shoulders. He was quickly growing fond of Hana, something about her just gave Itadori a sense of happiness, something he’s been longing for. 

“What can I get for you two today?” 

“Can I get one strawberry scoop and one vanilla?” 

“One strawberry and vanilla scoop coming right up, that’ll be 9.87 please.” 

Itadori pulled out his wallet and gave the cashier his card, and while opening his wallet Hana noticed a very old photo of her mom 

“Mama?” 

Itadori flinched and brought Hana down from his shoulders, “Hey you saw your mom? Do you know where she is?” 

Hana simply pointed at his wallet, for a second Itadori questioned it but he soon opened his wallet and showed her “Silly Hana there’s no one in here.” He let out a laugh and patted her head.

“Mama.” She said again pointing at the Photo of you that was neatly put in Itadori’s wallet. 

Itadori’s heart dropped. He thought back to the thing Gojo was saying about his ex and how he got cut off due to the higher ups, he quickly put his wallet away and lifted up Hana, carrying her in his arms along with their ice cream Itadori headed to Gojo’s apartment as fast as he could.

.  ღ  .

“Yuuji? I didn’t expect you here- oh hi Hana how are you?” Gojo leaned down to pick Hana up, he brought her inside of his apartment and changed the channel on his TV to something Hana would enjoy watching. 

“Sensei, who’s Hana’s mom?” Itadori asked with a shaky voice, he closed the door and headed towards where Gojo was seated. 

“Oh yeah about that, did you know that Y/N was pregnant when you two broke up?” 

Yuuji’s heart stopped. “She was what?” 

“Mm yeah that’s what Miwa told me.” 

“Miwa huh? Are they still friends?” Itadori rubbed his hands together, anxious of what Gojo’s intentions were bringing Hana over. 

“I guess you could say that,” Gojo lifted his sun glasses and placed them on the counter, “You do know that Hana’s your kid right?” 

“Well yeah I figured.” 

“Great! I’m gonna need you to fill out these papers.” Gojo handed Itadori a stack of papers and a pen that had Gojo’s face plastered all over it. 

“Papers? What for?” 

“Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji, how dense can you get? Papers so you’ll have legal documents to state that Hana is in your custody.” 

“Huh? But isn’t she in Y/N’s care?” 

Gojo bit his lip, he sighed. Putting both palms on his cheeked and elbows resting on the counter he started, “Yuuji,” Itadori replied with a hum, he furrowed his brows while he began filling the papers out, “You remember that Shibuya incident that happened about a three months ago?” 

“Oh yeah the one where over forty people died because of Sukuna right?” 

“Yeah... Y/N was one of those forty.” 

It fell silent, the faint noises coming from the TV was blurred out from Itadori’s hearing. Y/N.. died? 

“Sensei-”

“Look I know it’s a lot to take in, you did love her more than anything but you have to be strong Yuu, Hana lost her mom and all she has is you.” For once Gojo’s words were actually something Itadori could use for wisdom. 

“Does she even know I’m her dad? It’s been like five years since Y/N and I broke up.”

“Don’t know, but I’ll tell you this. When I heard news that Y/N was killed by one of Sukuna’s guys I was sent to look through her apartment for clues as to why they’d specifically get her and when I got there she at least had three pictures of the both of you framed.” 

The indistinct memories of the night you and Yuuji broke up filled his mind to the brim. 

.  ღ  .

You were shifting around. Making sure everything was perfect was such a hassle but you wanted tonight to be perfect. You longed for this day and you wished and hoped that you’d be able to start a family with the man of your dreams. 

You waited for Itadori to get home, you knew he would love the dress you wore tonight, a mid length white flowy dress that he picked out looked amazing on you. You did your hair as well. Awaiting for the homemade dinner along with news to deliver excited you. The look on his face as he realized he would be a father very soon was something you’d never forget.

After thirty minutes of waiting the door finally opened to reveal a slummed Yuuji.

“Hey what’s wrong? You look down, something on your mind?” 

“Y/N we need to talk.”

“Oh no that’s not good.” You let out a laugh to lighten the mood and what you received was nothing but silence. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I love you so so much. More than words could explain and I know I fucked up, I really do, please forgive me I promise it’ll never happen again.” He pulled you into a hug, and yet you were confused as to what he was babbling on about. 

“Yuuji? What’s this all about?”

 “I cheated.”

You took a step back at the sudden words that escaped your lovers mouth. You were in disbelief. Denial was the only thing you felt but then Yuuji kept talking. 

“I’m so sorry, I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore, every time I look at you it haunts me.” He reached over to you and your body moved on it’s own, you took a step back causing Itadori’s face to drop. He knew he had lost you. 

In that moment you knew announcing your pregnancy to him would just crush him more, you sighed and pulled him into your embrace. 

“It’s okay Yuuji, I forgive you. Please don’t do it to your next girlfriend.” 

“Next? You don’t mean-”

“Yes. I do, I’m sorry Yuu. I love you but there’s no way I can trust you now.” 

He nodded, he knew trying wouldn’t get him anywhere once you made up your mind. He accepted the punishment given to him. He was the one at fault no matter how you looked at it.

The next morning you packed your things. You knew as well as he did that being in the same apartment would only hurt the both of you more. You decided to leave. You sought out a peaceful life with the baby growing inside you. 

“May we meet again in another life.” You gave Yuuji one last hug and a kiss on the cheek and within seconds you were gone from his vision.

.  ღ  .

Itadori had thought losing you was apart of the punishment he received from him cheating on you, he had never thought that the day your relationship with him ended would be the last day you’d ever see each other again. 

He believed you gave him another chance, that fate did as well. Hana coming into Itadori’s life a few years after you had left his was another way to atone for his sins. 

And if it was for you, Itadori would gladly take the opportunity. 

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 | 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 

[auty-ren]

Tainted Heart: Chapter 2

The Agreement (Western AU)

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Outlaw!Din x Reader. (Reader is female/fab)

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury. Cursing. The kid being adorable. The reader is his babysitter. Pet names. Teasing. Soft-core Smut (kissing, heavy making out, groping, dry humping, mentions of virginity/inexperience, a few touches, unintentional edging.)

A/n: Thank you guys for being so patient, I hope it was worth the wait! We’re finally seeing a little action. Enjoy babes. (gif by @javier-pena​)

Tainted Heart Masterlist | My Masterlist

The wool was rough under your fingertips, a heavy dull gray that almost burned under the harsh tint of the midday sun. They were heavy, soaking with water and suds as you lifted them from the wash pan, squeezing what excess you could out of the fibers. A coo broke through the static that had filled your mind, numb with the monotonous action of wet, wash, rinse, repeat. The child stayed strapped in the high chair, peeking at you through white sheets you hung to dry, his inquisitive hands stretching out when the breeze blew white cotton out close, but just barely grazing the reach of his fingers. He babbled again at the sight of you, squealing when you threw the curtains of laundry away and broke the makeshift barrier between you. 

He repeated the snarl you had given him, playful and disappearing between fits of smiles and giggles.

“Are you a monster, little one?”

He was meant to scare you, giving a growl that was far cuter than it was fearsome in his pretend game of monster.

“You’re too sweet to be a monster.”

He kicked his feet in excitement, gnawing at the bread you tore into pieces on the plate attached to his chair. He offered you a piece of it, forming unrecognizable syllables as he prompted you to take it from him.

You wanted to be selfish, to hide away with your newfound companion and keep him perched on your hip permanently. None of it should be temporary.

It had been years since your home felt so warm; since the fogged windows were lit with a bright, new life that fumbled over every surface. It was sticky, the feeling you had laying on your chest when you were woken to the sound of shrill cries; the ache in your tired bones all but faded at the tear-soaked smile that greeted you in the dim mornings.

Maybe you were just lonely, growing tired of the same life you lived each day when it was just you and Papa. 

Maybe you had mistaken content for boredom.

And now it was unpredictable, a welcomed unpredictability.

You learned the hard way not to leave the little one unattended, even for a moment; not for a few measly seconds. The broken porcelain of an old vase had been enough of a warning, luckily it wouldn’t be missed and after you had cleaned up the mess, you could hardly notice any wrong had happened. 

At least, your father didn’t notice. 

But the child was just curious and his cries as he sat horrified at the pieces of glass surrounding his feet had been enough of punishment for the both of you. 

This arrangement took too much convincing on your father's part.

He only wanted to protect you, but at this point, you doubt he was thinking straight. Your father had sacrificed too much to keep you safe; to carve out a simple life for you on the edges of the real world, to keep it from crushing your spirit the way it did his.

You assumed your father’s anxiousness about the situation stemmed from something you didn't think you could understand; loved ones lost long ago to the evil that had spread to your quiet town.

But there were some things that only time could heal and it seemed for him there was never enough.

He wanted to send ‘Mando’ packing as soon as the wounds stopped bleeding, and the sun lit up the morning sky.

But you convinced him otherwise.

There was no way he would've made it twenty minutes without hurting himself, more so since he had to care for a child. A child who you found very difficult to say no to, especially since he became such good company.

Mando could stay until he was healed. But there was work to be done.

Mando’s right arm had been wrapped in a makeshift sling, leaving his less dominant hand available to carry out whatever your father asked of him. Although you argued he shouldn't be working at all, both of the men disagreed with you. Papa decided it was only fair for him to work, to repay the debt he owed you.

You wouldn't call it a debt, but you kept that to yourself and let your father negotiate the terms of Mando’s stay.

There wasn't much argument, Mando would work odd jobs around your homestead, things that Papa was unable to do anymore, and things he hated to ask you to do; in return, he and his child would be allowed to stay until Mando healed. But there were conditions, terms that your father had laid out and would be considered law as he saw fit.

Mando would not be allowed to sleep in your home.

Your father made sure to bolt the doors once Mando had left after dinner, checking each of them before he could settle enough to try and sleep. A place was made for him in the barn, blankets and an extra pillow for him to sleep with, the least you could do for someone about to work your entire harvest for practically nothing. 

The child would be allowed to stay inside.

Papa had gone into the attic in the early morning after he agreed to let Mando stay, and pulled down the old crib that had been yours once upon a time. You aired and cleaned all of the blankets and toys you had sorted inside of it, hoping that maybe they could get one final use before they crumbled from age. He slept in your room, just down the hall from where you and your father stayed.

You didn't like the idea of separating someone from their child, but your father insisted and Mando made no objection otherwise.

Your attention for the past week was wrapped completely around the fingers of a grinning child, smiling and keeping his curiosity at bay when he grabbed at anything within reach. He used unsteady legs, you being his shadow for the entire day; picking up the small toys that were left in his wake of discovery. 

He was a healthy little boy, just barely big enough to explore some on his own, and he had the energy to prove it. There were only a few times he slowed enough to nap, sleep that weighed heavy on his eyelids as he crawled into your arms, puffing small breaths into the crook of your neck while he rested.

He refused to fall asleep alone, if his fingers weren't gripping yours with an unusual force he didn't allow himself to sleep; he just cried, wailed until you picked him up again, and finally settled when the sound of your heartbeat was within reach.

You couldn't imagine what this child has been through.

There were a few things only you and Papa had spoken about, conversations and theories about your guests, the stranger who slept in the loft of your barn, and his precious companion. Papa wasn't very sentimental towards them, he was gentle with the child and polite to Mando; but the sooner both of them had left, the easier he would sleep at night. 

He repeated the same thing before bed, his voice shaking and eyes worrisome in ways you had never thought would come from him. You didn't protest, just nodding your head and trying to soothe the lines seemingly etched into his brow. You drifted off as he squeezed your fingers in his, tighter than he ever had before, and pressed a worried kiss to your hand.

“Do not trust him.”

You hadn't told Papa about what happened between you and Mando once he had gone to bed, and you'd keep it from him so long as you stay sane. He would never know about how much you thought about it, how part of you wanted something like that to happen again, how you wanted to feel that blossom of heat in your chest ten times over.

Papa was under the impression the two of you had never spoken and it was best it stayed that way. 

He couldn't be a good man.

He had the scars to prove he was a fighter, most of the wounds old and standing out sharply against his skin.

You remember how they looked, how tender and soft the damaged flesh felt when you ran your fingers over it.

That doesn't just happen.

He carried a gun, and two more sat on the saddle of his horse. One fell from the pockets of his rucksack when you lifted it off the horse's back, the other a long rifle that was heavy and awkward in your arms.

You didn't tell Papa about that, you just hid them in the haystack of the barn and hoped he wouldn't find them.

But he was kind.

He hadn't spoken much, not to you. Maybe to your father but, he hardly looked you in the eye; his face was mostly hidden behind the brow of his hat and sometimes by the cloth he wore over his face when he worked.

Or he was cunning.

Maybe Papa was right, maybe the sooner they left the better.

You didn't want them to leave.

Mando wasn't like other men, he had an attachment; something you doubt most low-lives ever considered having.

And you wanted to know why.

The baby was squealing for your attention again, and he giggled loudly when you shifted him in your arms. Papa looked in your direction, watching the two of you sitting on the porch. You gave him a small smile, one he returned in genuine, with promise that reached the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. You busied yourself with taming wisps of the baby’s hair, for the hundredth time that day, soft curls that gently framed his face sticking out in every direction. He giggled again, his hands reaching out in curiosity as he curled his fingers into his palm and babbling away as you sat him on the porch floor. He took a few unsure steps, then taking the lead as if he knew exactly where he was going and you kneeled behind him ready to reach out when he lost his balance.

He made his way to the railing, stopping above the steps that led down to where Papa sat working.

He had bushels of food sitting at his feet; vegetables that had been growing in the fields you kept behind the house. It wasn't too impressive, just enough to suffice with a little leftover that was sold at the end of the season; but it took far too long to pick any of it when the time came.

After years of practicing medicine, your father had fumbled his way through becoming a farmer. Papa had already been working for a few days, and at dinner last night he gave Mando the task of starting the harvesting of the far-garden in the morning while he’d work what had already been picked.

Mando wasn’t much of a talker; he was polite, sometimes even kind when he spoke to you, but it was few and far between. He did everything asked of him, sometimes even more.

You had mentioned at dinner last night you were planning to wash laundry in the morning, gathering clothes and sheets and rags Papa unintentionally littered about the house. It was tiresome and took most of the day, the clothesline filled with garments that took hours to dry even on a summer day. The chill in the air wasn’t the problem at all this time, the heat was.

It was tedious to fill and heat the washpans, sometimes you’d think it better to ignore that step, but the constant cold on your raw fingertips told a different story.

You hurried to eat this morning, making sure the baby was fed and occupied, so you could begin filling the tubs for laundry. 

But someone beat you to it.

You found both of the tubs were sitting out by the clothesline, filled to the brim with steaming water and the laundry stacked beside them.

Papa had been with you all morning, he couldn’t have done it.

You wanted to thank him, but it felt silly to do so, your cheeks getting warm with the thought like some smitten schoolgirl.

You had seen him one other time today, when he came in for some lunch, his boots kicking up dust that tracked from the back door into the kitchen. His pants were just as filthy from digging in the gardens all day, but his sleeves had been pushed up his arms, and his hands were still damp from when he had washed them.

At least he's not a slob.

You don't think he notices you, standing on the far side of the kitchen, quietly watching as he removes his hat, pulls down the covering on his face, and sits next to the kid. He checks on him with a ruffle of his hair, the baby babbling away with a grin on his face as he watches Mando stuff his mouth with some of the bread and meat you sat out for him on the kitchen table.

He ate in silence, quick and rushed as if someone would take it from him before he could get enough to be satisfied. You stood at the other end of the kitchen, watching him eat and interacting with his kid. He said something to him, something so quiet you barely heard it but you saw the way his hand brushed over the curls on his boy's head; just like you had been doing almost every day you watched him. He finished as he drank glass fulls of water, over and over until the pitcher was nearly empty. 

His eyes are like saucers when he turns around to see you standing there, and his mouth opens and closes as if he was thinking of some defense.

Definitely didn't see you standing there.

You try your best to smile at him and move to ask him if he'd like more to eat, but he's gone. He grabs his hat from the table and mutters a thank you before slamming the door closed behind him.

It couldn't be easy with just one arm, nothing your father had given him was gentle and no matter how much he dismissed it, you could tell he was still in pain. Even with the medication given to him regularly, he winced at the slightest movement and was slow compared to your father.

You could barely see his silhouette, still moving out in the gardens and shadowed by the sun setting behind him. He takes a moment, sitting on his ass and looking up at the painted colors of the sky. Delicate pink and orange hues fill a blue sky, mixing until there is a symphony dancing above your heads, dusk settling over the land as everyone prepares for sleep. He stretches his neck from side to side, wiping his face with his sleeve with a huff and pulling himself back to his feet.

“He's a very sweet kid.” 

Papa’s voice interrupted your watching, your eyes snapping over to him taking a seat in his chair, patting his lap, and asking for the child to join him. He waddled over, reaching up with grubby hands and squealing as he was lifted in your father’s lap.

“Why don't you take some time and wash up for dinner.” Papa insisted, nodding towards the door as he settled the child on his lap. “I’ll call for you when it's ready.”

“Nonsense,” you sigh, standing up with a smile and turning towards the door. “Someone has to help you.”

“And that someone has to be you?” He’s grinning, nothing evil or malicious; mostly playful, with just a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your earlier intentions of dinner are forgotten as you lean against a wooden doorframe, the aged wood scratching at your arm when the sleeve of your dress is pushed up. You watch Papa coo at the child, patting his head with careful hands as the toddler yawned and laid against his chest. Your feet ache as you look down at the worn boots you wear, the leather cracked and crumbling from age at the soles of your feet; they throb as you roll your ankles, switching your weight from one foot to the next until some of the pain subsided.

 It’s just your breathing for a moment, the simple, rhythm rise and fall of your chest; occasionally dueted with the squeak of Papa’s old rocking chair.

“Looks like I'll need help taking this into town,” you gestured to the bushels sitting at the edge of your porch steps, cutting through the silence with a huff of your breath. “Kuill will be excited to see everything we've got for him.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

He took you by surprise, the change in subject hitting you with a force that had your chest seizing up. How pitiful you felt, your heart racing at the mention of a man who probably didn’t remember your name.

“No,” you offer meekly, hoping your father didn’t notice the change in your pitch. “Why?”

“He’s hardly spoken a word since he's been here.”

He rocks his seat back and forth in a steady motion, gentle as the baby in his arms drifts into slumber.

“Maybe he likes to keep to himself.” You shrug, moving to lean against the porch railing and face him.

Your father considered your reasoning, his brows knit with heavy thought and a frown set on his lips.

“Or he's guilty of something.”

There’s something you barely catch in Papa’s words, something like malice but with less bite as the words hit your ears.

“It's only for a few more days,” you pick at the splintered wood under your hand, the edges rough and pointed as they press deeper into your palm. “We'll manage.”

Papa nods his head, patting the baby’s back as he sleeps on his chest; his limbs stretching for just a moment before he settles back to sleep. You run your hands along the child’s back, soothing the tired grumbles that fell from his lips. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to your father’s temple, squeezing the free hand he had perched on the arm of his chair.

“You know they would've died if we hadn't helped.” You whisper it into his hairline with another kiss, turning to head back inside before anything else is said.

You keep quiet, somehow afraid of speaking nightmares into existence. They were safe for now, healing and resting what little they could on your farm. A stranger and his baby that dug tiny holes in your chest that you doubt were closing anytime soon. Part of you feared when the time came, you wouldn’t want to let your precious companion or his father go.

“I know.” 

-

An intake of breath is all he allows.

He says nothing, and his face is blank, staring in front of him with discipline as your father digs into his shoulder again. His wounds are still tender, pink, and fresh against his tan skin but he doesn’t even wince; there's barely a twitch in his eye, and the shaking push and pull of his breath is the only indication he felt any of it.

He does groan when your father pours alcohol over it, remnants of blood washing away from the openings in his shoulder, thrown away stitches sitting on the cloth with your father’s tools.

You didn’t ask how his stitches had broken, you could only assume it happened today while he was working, and it was almost dinner before you noticed the tint that had stained his shirt red.

You hold the child a little closer in your arms, turning his head and busying him when he reaches out for Mando. 

The painting hung mounted on the wall, just low enough it was about eye level with you and the child. You pointed to flowers caked in oil paints, their colors faded from years of the sun that breached the windowsill. He cooed as he followed your lead, tracing the petals with his fingers until he gave a big yawn.

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, the soap you used to wash him earlier still lingering on your lips as he laid on your chest. His blanket wrapped around him, the wool warm and green as you kept him snug in your arms.

“It’s time to say goodnight.”

You stayed at the threshold of the kitchen, Mando’s back turned to you as your father put new stitches into his shoulder. Papa paused for a moment, nodding his head in your direction until Mando turned his profile murmuring a ‘goodnight’ to the baby in your arms. He looked at you as he said it, something pulling deep in your belly as his eyes bore into yours; almost black in the darkness and twinkling from the light of your father’s lamp.

Papa cleared his throat, pulling your eyes towards him as you felt heat rush to your face. 

You hoped he couldn’t tell, that you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. When didn’t bring it up later, once the two of you were alone and everyone had gone to bed, you felt the pressure that built up in your chest dissipate. He went right to sleep, snoring loudly beside you while you laid wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling.

You're not sure what time it is, or how long you have been ‘asleep’ but everything blurs; your mind racing too fast for your drooping eyes to catch any sort of rest.

You laid warm beneath woolen covers as you watched the windows tint with fog, the barest hints of a cold breeze slipping between the cracks and leaving a chill in the air.

It must be very cold out in the barn.

You wouldn’t entertain the idea. Mando was a grown man, he didn’t need you to care for him or coddle him like he was a child.

Staying in bed was the right decision, but decision making was never your strong suit.

The doors to the barn looked wicked under the dim moonlight, tall and intimidating as you reached a shaking hand out to them. They groaned as you pulled open, the track they rested on squeaking and shrill in the quiet night.

You just hoped he was a heavy sleeper.

You carried the two blankets you had been washing just this morning, something Papa kept around for emergencies; thick, wooly blankets that were itchy and coarse on your skin.

They were better than nothing.

There was only one lamp lit, everything mostly covered in shadow save for the few feet of orange glow coming from the middle of the room. Hardly any sound in the air, nighttime completely dead save the occasional grunt and snort of the horses sleeping in their stalls. His belongings sat stacked in one corner, next to the makeshift bedding you had left in here just over a week ago. They were in a neat pile, a shirt and coat, his hat, the cloth he used on his face, and his holster.

He was nowhere to be found.

You put the blankets on his bedroll, hoping he would connect the dots whenever he came back. The hay crunch underneath your feet, even with your attempt at tiptoeing through the barn. You pulled the knitted shawl you wore tighter around you, shivering from the chill that seeped from cracked insulation in the walls.

You hadn’t even stood up before you jumped under the sudden baritone of his voice.

“Where are my guns?” 

The chill that ran down your spine wasn’t from the cold, but rather from accusation; deep, rich words that dripped from his words and held no real malice.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You offered over your shoulder, slowly turning to face him head-on.

His arm was still in a sling, fresh bandaging that stood stark white against his worn clothes. He looked almost handsome in the orange hue of an oil lamp; his eyes bright even with the exhaustion pulling at his cheeks, his lips pouting and curls sticking out at his neck as if you had woken him in the embers of early morning.

“I know you didn't take them,”

He walked towards you, each step he took followed by your retreat until your back landed against the wall with a thud. Your eyes never leave him, never daring to break your stare even as your hand scrambled for purchase on the smooth wood at your back.

“So where are they?”

You counter him, thinking you're clever with a smile and a half-concocted comeback, batting your eyes when his lips quirk in response.

“How do you know I didn't keep them?”

He laughed, amusement hiding behind the rich color of his eyes and biting with the sparkle of his teeth.

“I doubt you've ever held a gun in your life, sweet girl.” His voice lowered at your pet name, sinful words that swirled at the base of your spine until you squirmed.

“I know you didn't take them.”

You take a deep breath, your cheeks burning when his hand comes to rest beside your head, his body coming just a hair closer until you feel pinned beneath him.

“I hid them.”

His eyebrow arches, questions stuck in the back of his throat that filter into one word.

“Why?”

You fiddled with the loose thread of your gown, wrapping the line excess around your finger until it pinched at the tip. Your ears thumped with the sound of your heartbeat, loud and racing as Mando drug his hand from your shoulder, across your neck. He cupped your jaw, squeezing your face in his hand for just a moment.

“You afraid of me, sweet girl?”

His voice rumbled, deep from his chest as he drags every word from smirking lips.

“Don't call me that.”

Any bite you had laced in your words was betrayed by the way you leaned into his touch, sighing when his fingers scratched at the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Yeah?” 

His lips were gentle, chapped, and sweet against yours with a tender kiss.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

You kissed him this time, testing the waters with a playful nip to his bottom lip; earning you a chuckle before he consumes you. Your lips slot lazily together in a clash of tongue as you taste one another, slow and sensual until your fingers thread his hair, tugging until he growls into your kiss.

“Thank you,” His breath puffed on your cheek, warm and wet on your skin as he trailed kisses over your face and neck. “For taking good care of my kid.”

“He's a sweetheart.” You huff out the words around a smile, your fingers tugging on Mando’s curls.

You almost moan when nips at your throat, his teeth leaving a mark on the juncture of your neck until he groans at the salty-sweet taste of soap on your skin.

“And you're beautiful.”

He steals the breath right from your lungs, gasping in between the short moments when his mouth wasn’t molded against yours. His hand on the back of your neck kept you pressed to his chest, your fingers ghosting over the stitches you could feel through the thin material of his shirt.

His leg was firmly pushed in between yours, his body supporting most of you as he hitched your leg to rest over his hip. The muscle of his thigh flexing when you barely rocked your hips against him. The cotton material of your nightgown did nothing to hide the feeling of rough denim on the softness of your thighs, scraping and molding red indents from the back and forth motion your hips made.

You nearly shout when he snakes his hand in between your bodies, cupping your mound while his fingers work against the bundle throbbing in between your legs; sparks of electricity shoot down to your toes and into the tips of your fingers with the slightest of touches. You ache against him, your body moving with him and seeking an unfamiliar end, a delicious coil in your belly that wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his two fingers.

You’re panting, muffling pathetic whimpers against his ear while he mouths at the deliciously tender spot on your neck. You can hardly hold your head up, your mind swimming in a thick, intoxicating fog until the world blurred around the edges. You feel the build-up at the base of your spine boiling over, almost all-consuming to the point it tingles every nerve in your body with anticipation. 

You grip his forearm until your nails leave pale, pink marks in your wake, and push him away to finally breathe again.

He is about the only thing keeping you upright, slowly he dropped your leg until you stood alone; his touches stopped, leaving a dull, unsatisfied ache that seeped into your bones. The sweat gathered at your hairline was annoying, tickling you to the point of discomfort until you swiped it away with the back of your hand.

“I don’t want Papa...”

You can’t think, nothing on the forefront of your mind coherent enough; like you were hopelessly lagging while your thoughts raged and laid stuck on the tip of your tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing your temple with your eyes opened, and find Mando looking right back at you.

If your father woke up to you gone, you’re not sure what he would do, other than assuming the worst.

And you certainly didn’t want him to catch you in the barn, not like this.

“I-I don’t…”

His eyes were almost gentle, sharp and consuming as always, but kind behind the harsh set of his brow.

He brushes pieces of your hair behind your ear, his touch still burning as it did before but with half the intensity felt a few moments ago.

“Go get some sleep.”

You collect yourself, pulling the shawl on your shoulders tight as you tuck your hands underneath your arms. He steps back once you regained composure and watches you even as you walk away.

You only make it a few steps before he calls after you.

“Tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of something in his voice.

Tease? Promise? Flirt?

Something that pulls harsh at your little heartstrings he had wrapped around his finger.

“How'd you like to go hunting?”

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[joyfulholland]

The Peace Treaty - Mob!Tom

....when your father orders you to make peace with Tom Holland, heir to the other crime family, you find working together is not as horrendous as you once thought.....

a/n: enemies to lovers with mob!Tom...this was a labour of love but I really like how this turned out and I hope you do too! i was largely inspired by all of my insanely talented friend Hannah’s (@duskholland​) mob!Tom writing, which is an absolute must read for anyone and everyone! please let me know what you think! this was nearly a smut but I changed my mind so if anyone would be interested in a part 2 please send me a message!

warnings: swearing, lots of mentions of violence, some mentions of blood/injuries

word count: 6.1k

All weddings have a little drama somewhere, but you thought having to throw a knife to stop the unwanted guest escaping was a tad excessive.

Luckily, the majority of the wedding party and guests were out in the gardens, so it was only a select few who had seen you interrupt the man’s swift exit. You smirked in triumph as he turned back to face you, his posture having slumped realising that not only was he cornered, but severely outnumbered. Smoothing out the cobalt silk that was your bridesmaid dress, you took one step forward, before pausing at the cough from the man beside you.

Tom wordlessly flipped the pistol he was holding so that you could easily take it from him. His actions caused you to raise an eyebrow, and he smirked as he revealed the second handgun tucked into his waistband.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to carry in that dress.” He grinned, eyes scanning your figure as you took the weapon from him. “Figured I better bring a spare so you wouldn’t have to miss out on the action.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t hide the surprise in your tone, still not used to his friendly attitude. Gesturing at the man still in the doorway, whose eyes were darting between you both, and the four other men behind you, you returned to the task at hand. “Shall we?”

“After you darling.”

~one week earlier~

“You can’t be serious Dad.”

Your father rolled his eyes from where he was seated across from you in front of the fire, the sound of laughter and music drifting under the door to his study from the party going on outside. Taking another sip of his whisky, he sighed at the incredulous look still plastered on your face.

“It’s time you made peace with him. I’m getting old, it’ll be your turn to run things soon, and we’d like to retire knowing the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats and throwing everything we built away. Besides, your sister’s wedding is almost here, and I want it to run smoothly.”

Sinking back into your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh before raising your own drink to your lips. Growing up as the eldest daughter of one of the two biggest crime families in London, you’d been raised preparing for the day it would be your turn to take on the “family business”, and you had relished in the prospect. The only issue you had taken to the entire affair, one which it seemed your father was now determined to resolve, was the heir to the other notorious family with whom you shared your work: Tom Holland.

One year older than you, the rivalry between you had started young. Both determined to prove you would one day be capable heads of your respective families, you’d attempted to one up each other at every opportunity available. Where he had excelled in marksmanship, your skill with a knife was incomparable to anyone else. When he began working for his father full time, you had begged your own to let you do the same, pleading that the fact he was older irrelevant. His specialty was smuggling, so you made disposal yours. The two of you even had a private scoreboard of times your activities had namelessly been displayed on the news, bragging that you were more successful at getting away with it than the other.

“Just shag him already.” Your younger sister, Isabelle, had groaned not a month before, as you’d finished regaling her with your recent triumph over him. “You’ve both been madly in love since you were about two years old.”

You’d almost spat your wine at her, the statement causing you off guard. Whilst it was no secret that Tom had suddenly become incredibly attractive over the course of a summer away when he was seventeen, you had made that fact irrelevant as your feelings towards him held nothing but contempt.

“I’m not in love with him.” Your words had come out as defiant, but it had only caused her to snort into her own drink. “Belle, he’s an arrogant, selfish arsehole who has done nothing but show as much hate towards me as I have to him since we were old enough to throw building blocks at each other.”

“I think you meant passion, not hate, but whatever.” She rolled her eyes, knowing when to drop a subject. “But it would be better for us all if you got along at least, and so help me God if the sexual tension between the two of you ruins my wedding I’ll murder you, heir to the firm or not.”

Which led you back to sitting across from your father, who had just informed you that he’d agreed with Tom’s father Dominic that the two of them were to hold ‘peace treaty’ talks between you.

“Did Belle put you up to this?” You asked suspiciously, eyes flashing to the door where you knew she would be holding court as the host of the wedding shower.

“She and your mother may have suggested it.”

“So she snitched to the both of you.”

“Actually, I think it was your mother’s idea first, she’s been speaking about it for a while.”

The smile on his face let you know you were defeated. It seemed they had all colluded together to force you into the ceasefire of your battle with Tom, and there was no way to escape it. Letting out another disgruntled sigh, you finished the remainder of your drink before rising from the chair.

“I assume he’s here.” The tone of your voice made your father let out a bark of laughter, and you knew you sounded like a child who had just been reprimanded. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not waiting for an answer, you crossed the room and re-joined the party that your father had pulled you from, rearranging your face into a fake smile as you passed guests in various states of enjoyment on your way to the main reception area in your family estate. You’d barely stepped over the threshold of the doorway when his voice rang clearly above the music.

“Well, if it isn’t my new best friend.”

Turning to face him, you saw Tom push up from where he was leaning against the wall. Your eyes quickly scanned his body, noting the near-empty glass held loosely between two ring-clad fingers. His black suit jacket fitted him perfectly over a crisp white shirt, which had the top three buttons undone to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck. He was flanked on either side by his two most loyal friends, Harrison and Tuwaine, both of whom offered you a smile. Whilst the rivalry between yourself and Tom was strong, neither of you had ever taken any issue to those in both of your inner circles.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s had the play nice speech.” Skipping any greetings, you return the other men’s smiles before focusing on Tom. He gives a short chuckle at your words before raising his glass to his lips and finishing the remainder of his drink. “For the record, I have no intentions of becoming friends.”

“I’m wounded darling.” Tom’s still wearing an obnoxious smirk as a server comes to offer you a glass of champagne, taking away his empty glass in the process. “I thought we could make a a good team, make everyone even happier.”

“In your dreams, Holland.” You know he’s just baiting you, but with the prospect of at least a couple more hours of party ahead of you, your patience for him was limited. “We can be civil at events and make an effort in any deals. But that’s it. We are not, and never will be a team.”

Not giving him time to answer, you swiftly turned on your heels and entered further into the crowd of people celebrating your sister’s upcoming nuptials, determined not to let him ruin this night for you anymore, and not to think about him until the next time you saw him.

Which, it turned out, would be sooner than you had hoped.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, you had retreated back to your own apartment.

Having cited ‘business’ as your reason, you knew that your family had seen into your lie, and that you wanted to be able to sulk in peace. You’d promised, under threats of bodily harm, to return two days before the wedding, giving you a good four days to get your bad mood out of the way.

The alone time only lasted fifteen hours.

It was drawing close to two a.m. when the banging on your door disturbed you. You hadn’t fallen asleep yet, having been going over some files at your desk, but the loud beating had startled you, and was unexpected enough for you to grab your gun from your bottom draw before approaching the source. Checking the spy hole, a string of curses left your mouth as you unchained and unlocked the door.

Tom fell through the threshold, his brown curls dishevelled, and his knuckles bruised. A thin trail of blood trickled down the side of his face from a slash above his left eyebrow, and a dark patch pooling on his shoulder alluded to there being another injury beneath his shirt. Quickly shutting the door behind him and relocking it, you spun to glare at the man who was now propping himself up against the wall of your hall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him, taking another survey of his injuries, and noting the yellowing skin under his eye that had a blue tinge. He had never been to your apartment before, but it didn’t shock you that he knew the address, especially as you knew his. Instead, you chose to ask the next most prominent question. “Have you been stabbed or shot?”

“I was close by, needed to tell you something.” He ignores your question, so you move past him to get to your bathroom, noting the wince he tried to hide as he moved to follow. Gingerly sitting on the edge of your bathtub, he watches as you grab a first aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you bleed.” You roll your eyes at him as you turn to face him, gesturing towards his shirt as a hint for him to remove it. He does so slowly, grimacing as he tries not to move his shoulder. You can’t help but take a sharp gasp when you see the gash running over the top of his skin, clear that a bullet had skimmed past him and not quite missed. Tom sends you a weak smile as you turn back to grab something to clean the wound. “What were you so desperate to tell me anyway? You could have just called.”

“Like you’d have answered.” Tom jokes as you step forward to begin patching him up, a hiss falling through his lips as you make contact with his injury. “You’ve made it clear that you only want to speak to me on a need-to-know basis, and this was urgent. That’s going to need stitches isn’t it? Just try and stem the bleeding until I get home, Haz is pretty decent at sewing me up.”

Your eyes flashed to meet his for a brief second before returning to his shoulder, nodding at his question. You couldn’t deny that you probably would have rejected his call and had nothing else to say to him in response. Grabbing some gauze, you start to tightly pad over the wound, waiting for him to continue.

“I ran into Jason.” His words promptly stop your actions, and your eyes connect again. Jason Boule was the son of another crime family, one whom which neither your father or Tom’s had gotten ever along with, and one who had been attempting to sabotage both of your businesses for years. “I think they’re trying to get someone into the wedding.”

“What did he say?” You ask, finishing with his shoulder before grabbing something to start cleaning up his face. “And what did you say to make him shoot at you?”

“Asked me to pass on congratulations to the happy couple, claimed he was disappointed he hadn’t received an invite, that he was sure it was going to be a day to remember.” Tom spoke the last few words with gritted teeth as you wiped over the cut along his face. “Then he…I may have said something about how vermin weren’t usually invited to weddings, which is about when he shot at me.”

“You missed something out in the middle.” You smirked as it was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes, having not missed the way he’d changed his mind mid-sentence, passing him an instant-cool pack from your kit. “Hold that on your eye.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, doing as you told him. You waited expectantly, and he groaned before carrying on. “He may have said some shit about you in the middle, which I may have punched him for, but that wasn’t important to the alluding to sending someone to the wedding point.”

“You punched him for bad-mouthing me?”

“Well, yeah. Just because I give you shit for not being as good as me, doesn’t give him any right to. Especially not what he said, which I won’t repeat for the fact it was disgusting.”

Eyes once again locked on his, you found yourself lost for words. Tom had tried to joke it off, but the idea of him defending you, in any situation, felt like a foreign concept. Dropping your gaze down, you sucked in a breath at the realisation of the intimate situation the two of you were in: you, standing between his legs as he sat, shirtless, with only centimetres separating the two of you. As you raised your eyes slowly back to his, you found Tom’s gaze still fixed firmly on your face. A moment passed, and for a brief second you found yourself leaning closer, until a loud buzzing signalled Tom’s phone ringing in his pocket. Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back, eyes returning to his and forcing your face to remain neutral as he glanced at his screen and sighed.

“You should get home, get your shoulder looked at properly.” Your words shattered the tension that had surrounded you both momentarily, and Tom coughed before nodding and reaching for his discarded shirt. “Thank you, Tom, for coming to tell me.”

“All part of the peace treaty.” His smile looked forced as he pulled his shirt back on and stood, passing you back the ice pack and making his way to leave your apartment. “You wanna tell your Dad-“

“No.” You cut him off quickly, running a hand through your hair as you think through the situation. “I… this wedding is important, and I don’t want him worrying. We can sort it right?”

“OK.” He nods, his usual smirk returning. “You’ll actually have to answer my calls though.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m sure I can manage.” You roll your eyes at him, and Tom chuckles with a nod before going to unlock your door. “I’ll speak to some of my guys in the morning.”

“And you said we couldn’t be a team.”

“Go home Holland.” You sigh, gently pushing him out of your apartment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Counting down the hours darling.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days were filled with flurries of phone calls between yourself and Tom, some more pleasant than others. Almost all of the calls were logistical; how many people the two of you planned on telling, whether or not to station someone at the exits. In an attempt to remain focused, you tried to keep your tone formal and business like, not deviating from the matter at hand.

The problem was Tom had other plans.

You’d be halfway through discussing exit routes when he’d suddenly ask your opinion on his suit for the wedding, or you’d be texting him floor plans and he would send back a picture of options for his shoes. And then of course, once or twice, the two of you would disagree about something and end up fighting, with one of you hanging up on the other before calling back almost immediately because it really wasn’t an issue you had time to ignore. Trying to balance getting along after so many years of competition, in addition to doing everything you could to ignore the moment that had transpired between you the night in your bathroom, as well as calls from your sister about last minute wedding worries was giving you a permanent migraine.

The day before the wedding, he called you just as you were finishing dinner with your family.

“Now’s really not the time.” You murmured, skipping any formal greeting as you stepped into the empty hallway. “I’ve just-“

“Come outside.” He cut you off, tone matching yours. “Got something you’ll wanna see.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, the line cut off, leaving you no choice but to follow his orders. Stepping into the snug, where everyone had retired to after finishing, you flashed an apologetic smile.

“I’ve just got to step out for a bit.” You told them, earning an eye roll from your mother and a curious look from your father. You shook your head slightly, reassuring him not to worry. “Won’t be too long.”

“If you’re not back when I go to bed I will kill you.” Isabelle sighed, head tilting back over the sofa from where she was seated in front of you. “Promise me you’ll stop and say good night.”

“Promise.” You mutter, dipping forward to kiss her forehead before retreating from the room. Hurrying down the hallway, you slipped out of the large front doors to see the outline of Tom leaning against his car, parked close to the doors of your garage. Crossing the gravel, the cool evening breeze made you shiver as you walked the dark to meet him, the hem of your dress grazing against your thighs. Getting close enough to make out his features, you called out to him. “Roddy let you in the gate?”

“Told him I had a meeting with you, he let me in no questions asked.” He hummed; body still angled from where he was leaning on the hood of his jaguar. “Figured you must have told him something.”

“Warned him we could have an unexpected visitor tomorrow so to not question you if you turned up.” You affirmed, crossing your arms around you in an attempt to keep warm. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Tom’s eyes dropped to your arms and smirked, before pushing off his car and opening the door, tilting his head at it as a signal to get in. You did so wordlessly, sighing in content as he shut the door behind you and the heat of his car engulfed you. The car smelled more like Tom’s aftershave than any air freshener, which only strengthened when Tom had slipped into the driver’s seat moments later. As he reached across you to open the glove box, you held your breath as his arm, exposed from where he’d rolled up his sleeves, grazed your body, mind still determined to rid yourself of any minor attraction to him. Tom pulled out a large envelope, fingers brushing yours as he gave it to you before settling back into his own seat. Sliding out the contents, you found printed emails containing directions to your father’s study, as well as photographs of your family estate, and the name of a company which you were in the middle of a business deal with.

“May or may not have hacked into Boule’s emails.” Tom explained before you could ask, your eyes lifting from the papers in front of you to meet his. “I know we didn’t agree on that, but Paddy is becoming one hell of a whiz kid at it, so asked him to see if he could find anything.”

Smiling at the mention of Tom’s youngest brother, you returned your attention to the documents, speed reading through them as Tom waited for you to reply. Noticing the names on the email addresses, your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You aren’t kidding about Paddy.” The surprise in your tone made Tom chuckle, and you lifted your gaze back to him. “These were coded, weren’t they?”

“Told you, kids got skills. Think we’re pretty lucky he’s already one of the family, or we’d all be fighting over him.”

“Well at least now we know what Jason’s coming after.”

“And that he’s only sending one guy. We’ll barely have anything to do.”

You chuckled softly at his words, leaning back against the chair and letting your gaze wander over the darkened landscape of your estate. You could only just make out the large marquee that had been erected for the wedding, most of it obscured by the dark as well as part of the house.

“Think we could have always worked together like this?” Tom’s words startle you, and you tilt your head to the side to find him mirroring your position. “You know, if you could have just admitted I was better when we were kids, then it would have been fine.”

You let out a short laugh, watching his lips pull into a grin at the sound. Seeing how smug he was, an idea flashed into your head. Before Tom could realise what was happening, you pushed yourself off your chair and swung your legs to straddle over his, pulling the small knife you had tucked into your belt free to press loosely against his neck.

“What was that about being better than me?” You asked, grinning as his expression changed from one of shock to frustration, his eyes rolling as he raised one hand to push gently at your hip. “You’re getting slow, Holland.”

“Doesn’t count.” He protested, eyes following your hand as you flipped the small blade back into the safety of its holder. “You’ve pulled bigger knives on me than that. Anyway, that wasn’t fair, I’m unarmed.”

“So I wouldn’t find your gun in the armrest box beside us?” You tease, settling back on Tom’s thighs and opening up the compartment to prove your point. “Oh, look, I was right.”

“You’re acting like you know more about me than I do you, but I’m well aware that you have another knife strapped on you, so this works both ways.”

“How do you know I have two?”

“Because you’ve been carrying two knives since you were seventeen after that job we had to do together that almost went wrong, and you only had one.”

“You remember that?”

“Course I do, you stole my car keys and refused to let me drive myself home.”

“Because you’d been shot.”

“I was barely bleeding.”

“That’s because the bullet was still stuck in your ribcage. Just because I hated you didn’t mean I wanted you to die. Besides, I was right. You passed out barely five minutes later.”

“You hated me?”

“Back then? Immensely.”

“And now?”

You hadn’t realised that you’d been getting closer to him, but as Tom asked his question, you felt his breath fan across your face. He’d sat up straighter, his hands sliding up to sit on your waist, whilst yours sat at the base of his chest, your eyes level and lips centimetres apart. Up close, you could see the mark left behind above his eyebrow from the fight a few nights prior, and the yellow tint below his eye where his bruising hadn’t fully healed. Tom’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he waited for you to answer, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your sides.

“Maybe a little less.”

You were sure your words had been inaudible, but Tom somehow seemed to hear them, and he smiled before lifting one of his hands to cup your neck and bring your head forward to close the gap between you. His lips brushed over yours tentatively as your eyes fluttered closed, both of you still hesitant in this unchartered territory. As his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, you emitted a soft sigh, hands tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

Doing so changed the mood from hesitation to excitement, and Tom tightened the grip on your neck as the kiss deepened. His other hand, which had still been sitting on your waist, slowly moved down and dipped below your dress until it was holding the back of your thigh. Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, Tom used his hold on your head to angle it, his lips trailing steadily along your jaw.

“If you leave any marks I’ll stab you.” Your threat was undermined by the moan that immediately followed it, as Tom found the spot by your ear, and you felt him grin against your skin before he pressed a final kiss to you and pulled back to meet your gaze. “I mean it, I’m not walking down the aisle behind my sister covered in hickies. It’ll be your funeral instead.”

“I love it when you threaten to kill me.” He smirks, darting forward to capture your lips once more. Pushing him lightly, he groaned as he fell back against his chair, the hand on your neck falling to his side. “Alright, alright. You don’t need to worry darling, because as much as I want to, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in my car.”

“The first time?” You push back from him, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. Tom simply hummed at your question, the hand on your neck dropping to grab both of yours. You waited for him to respond, only growing annoyed as he did nothing but smirk at you. Losing your patience with him, you wrench your hands free to lean across and open the car door. “You’re so infuriating, that’s why we never worked as a team. Your ego.”

“Definitely nothing to do with your temper either.” You weren’t looking at his face as you climbed out of the car, but you could practically hear him roll his eyes. Smoothing out your dress as the cool, evening breeze engulfed you once more, you turned to head back to the house, before he called out behind you. “You’re welcome, by the way. For the information.”

“Thanks!” You shout back, not turning your head as you continue back to the house. Tom’s laugh carries across the driveway, followed by the sound of his car door closing. Reaching the front door, you look back as you step back inside, watching as his engine purred to life before gliding back towards the gates. Quietly closing the door, you begin making your way to your room, noticing that most of your family had already made their way to bed. Stopping at the door before yours, you knock softly before hearing a muffled come in, cracking open the door to smile at your sister. “Just wanted to know if I’m being killed or not?”

“I’ll let you off.” Isabelle rolled her eyes from where she was laying in her bed but grinned back as you leant against the door frame. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“You’d tell me if there was something, right?”

“Absolutely.” You lied, pushing off the wall to cross the room and press a kiss to her cheek. “Now get some beauty sleep, or Adam won’t want to marry you.”

“Like you’d let him back out.” Belle joked, referring to how her husband-to-be worked for the family business. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You hummed back, before leaving the room and entering your own. Flipping on the light, you sighed before preparing for bed, thinking of what was to come in the next twenty-four hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“After you darling.”

Your eyes returned to the intruder cornered by the door, thinking over how you’d ended up here. The wedding itself had gone without a hitch; your sister and her now husband had exchanged rings and vows in front of everyone without any noticeable hiccups. You’d spotted Tom as you’d led the bridesmaids down the aisle and had determinedly kept your gaze away from him throughout the ceremony, only exchanging a curt nod as you’d left to take part in the official photo’s, trusting him to keep an eye. It was the only contact you’d had with him until you spotted what you’d been waiting all day to see, Freddie, one of your men, signalling you from across the reception party. Politely excusing yourself from the conversation you were in, you had wordlessly tapped Tom’s arm on your way back to your family house, hearing him do the same before following with Harrison and Tuwaine behind him. With the advanced knowledge you had gained from Paddy’s hacking abilities, the two of you, each flanked by two of your men, had found and cornered the intruder before he’d made it farther than the entry hall.

“I know Boule sent you, and why he sent you, and given the occasion, I don’t have time or patience to waste on your excuses.” You sighed, stopping in front as Freddie and Ralph moved to stand either side of him. Toying with the gun you now held, you watched as his eyes darted between the weapon and your face. “So you’re going to swiftly leave, and run and tell him nice try, but maybe next time. Because if you try anything else, the next knife I throw won’t miss.”

He hadn’t got a chance to respond before Freddie and Ralph had taken him by both arms, nodding at you before escorting him out of the building. You watched them go, as Tom followed suit. For a second, you thought he was leaving too, before he stopped to retrieve the knife you had thrown earlier, still lodged in the door. Wordlessly returning to you, he held the blade out for you to take, and you offered him a tight smile as you swapped it for the gun he had offered you earlier.

“Not that you need it,” Tom joked as you returned the knife to the strap on your inner thigh. Your eyes found his in surprise, watching as he replaced both of the guns he now held in his waistband. “What with you having two and all.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, before spinning on your heel to face his two friends. “We should get back.”

“She can’t possibly have two knives on her?” Harrison hissed to Tom, the three men a few paces behind you as you made your way back to the garden.

“Oh, trust me, she can.”

“Where?”

Smiling to yourself as the fresh air engulfed you once more, you re-entered the marquee to see no change to the scene from when you had left it: some people dancing, some milling around speaking and laughing, others still finishing their food at various tables. Eyes scanning the guests around you, they landed on the bride herself striding across the room determinedly in your direction.

“You lied to me.” She accused, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the dancefloor. Isabelle released her grip on you as the music changed to a slower song, wrapping instead wrapping them around you to sway slowly to the music. “You said that everything was fine, and then you sneak off to stop one of Boule’s men breaking into Dad’s study.”

“How the hell did you find out?” The smile was still on your face as the two of you spun in a small circle, mainly because despite her tone, she was still beaming herself. “I didn’t even tell Dad.”

“Roddy told me.” Her tone was smug as her eyes wandered from your face to look around the tent. “After I watched you leave that is. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own sister leave my wedding?”

“Well, I hoped the wedding thing might cause some distraction.”

“Fat chance.” She snorted, eyes returning to yours. “I’ve got a particular skill set that comes in handy. Don’t think I didn’t see Tom follow.”

“He was the one who found out about it originally.” Your tone changed as you thought over what had transpired between you. “You know he brought an extra gun because he knew I wouldn’t be able to have on today?”

“The fact that it surprises you is hilarious.” She laughs, stepping back from you and unwrapping her arms, only to link her fingers through yours instead. “You know that he’s-“

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. I’ll let him tell you.”

“What-“

“Mind if I cut in?” You whipped your head to find Tom behind you, watching as he sent a winning smile to your sister. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks Tom, she’s all yours.” Belle grinned back, pulling you in to kiss your cheek, before muttering in your ear, “You’ll thank me eventually.”

Releasing you completely, you watched as she passed Tom with another smile, walking straight into her new husband’s outstretched arms. Your gaze returned to the man in front of you, watching cautiously as he held out his hand.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, seeing your hesitation. “Think about how happy our father’s will be to see their peace treaty working.”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand in his and allow him to pull you closer, your other hand rising up to rest on his shoulder.

“You stormed away last night before I could explain myself.” His voice was low in your ear as he began to move the two of you in time with the music. “Never have been a fan of letting me have the last word.”

“If this is an apology it sucks so far.” You reply, your tone light as you try not to focus on the warmth of his hand on your waist.

“I’m not going to apologise, it wasn’t the right moment.”

“You said that like you’ve been planning it.”

“Only every day since you stole my car keys.”

“Now I know you’re taking the piss.”

Pulling back to meet his gaze, you found nothing but sincerity as he took a breath to explain.

“You got the money we went there for whilst simultaneously holding three men twice your size at gunpoint, and then got us both out of there despite the fact I’d been shot. Then you took my keys and yelled at me whilst taking me home until I passed out.” The look on his face now was nothing like you had ever seen, his eyes searching yours as he continued. “Darling, as much as I really do enjoy the way you look when you’re mad at me, the main reason I’ve been antagonising you more and more the past few years was so I actually have a chance to spend time with you. Now if I’m making a complete twat of myself, say the word and we can continue the way we are and forget I ever said a word of this.”

“Tom-“

“You know you only ever call me that when I’ve been shot.” He mutters, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Should I be worried?”

“You know I was already reluctant to admit that I might feel the same way, and now I’m going to take it back...”

Your words died on your lips as he silenced you with his own, dropping your hand to cradle your face as he kissed you softly. You could feel him grinning against you before he pulled back, thumb dragging softly against the skin of your cheek.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you now, you know.” You mutter, unable to stop your own smile taking over. “I mean, if you think that just because we’re together I’d start letting you-”

“Letting me?” Tom’s bark of laughter inspired your smile to grow even more, the incredulous look in his eyes quickly morphing into his trademark smirk. “I’m sorry, who was it who discovered Boule’s plans for today?”

“Only because you got into a fight over me. Admit it Holland, I’m your weakness. It’s not my fault you’re so in awe of my talents.”

“If I kiss you again, will you stop being so competitive?”

“Depends, maybe you should it try and find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

did you like it? did you hate it? let me know either way as well as anything else you want to see me write!

tagging some lovely people: @gonzalezyon @nowayhomeparker @sinisterspidey​ 

[the-shiftshop]

Hey Diary - Part 4

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 and SIDE STORY 1 of the Hey Diary Series

The day ended unexpectedly fun. Everyone was so confused why Keith and I had been laughing together, eating together and even sitting side by side in class today as if Keith never had bullied me. Some even tried to confront us, asking if Keith held me hostage. Keith had been dragging me all around with him. He even asked me to play ball with Peter and Tom, who seemed more closer than usual. I would make assumptions that my recent changes are still affecting them, but I already had deleted that log, and these two would, time by time, give hints that they’re nothing more than a friend, so I shrugged it off.

On my way home, I couldn’t get the fun out of my system. I finally felt so free to move. It’s like I can finally do whatever I want and be whatever I want to be.

Then I suddenly remembered what Keith had asked me this morning.

“Make me old enough to be a teacher for a day.”

It got me thinking about what he’s planning to do once more. It’s not that I don’t trust Keith. It’s just that I’m wondering what his goal is. It’s probably just because he wants to experience being old, or being a teacher. He looked so exhilarated when I told him all about the Diary App, so I’m pretty sure he just wants to give it a try.

At home, I didn’t waste anymore time to tinker with the app as I am very tired and I already want to fall asleep. I carefully wrote down on the app, thinking of the desired outcome I am aiming for.

Monday

Hey Diary,

Today was fun. It felt like I was friends with Keith, Peter and Tom ever since the first day we met. We all had fun together and it felt like all my problems are fixed. This morning, I talked to Keith about this Diary App. I have trusted Keith on this, and I do hope he wouldn’t take that for granted. He was super amazed with this app and the ability of it to change reality and he specifically gave me one request.

I wish that would come true, I wish Keith would turn into the person he want him to be just for a day, and that he would be aware of any changes that may occur.

With that properly typed out, I pressed save, then in just a few seconds, I lost consciousness on my bed.

---------

As soon as Felix fainted in his room, Keith was lying on his bed in the frat house, tossing and turning as he feel his body contort in uncomfortable ways. It wasn’t painful. It just felt like his body is growing far more foreign in every seconds that pass by. It’s like his body wanting to grow numb, but he can still feel pain if he try to pinch himself. With his fingers still pinching his cheeks, he noticed hair poking out to them. He proceeded to feel his face with both his hands, realizing that he’s growing a full beard. Finally recognizing what’s going on, he stopped moving around, and he instead just lied on his back and let it all happen.

He moved his hands down to his growing torso, feeling each muscles expand in his touch. He’s growing, that’s for sure, and it’s not just his body. His mind started to fog up a little, making him wince for a bit.

“I should be working on my lessons for tomorrow-” He blurted out unconsciously. He stopped himself midway, realizing what he had just said. That was the first time he said that. And not only that he meant he’ll study for a lesson, he knows he meant that he’s the one teaching them tomorrow.

He finally decided to stand up. His eyes widened when he saw that it had suddenly gone dark. Not only that, but his beddings changed. His shock soon changed into amusement when we quickly see the night change into day then back to night simultaneously, starting off slow, then it sped up. Even the weird feelings all over his body start to feel more prominent. Memories of years of teaching poured out into his brain. Names of all the student he should know popped out in his mind. Charles, that up-to-no-good student but gets straight As in his class; Marie, that campus nerd who kept asking him weird questions; Lawrence, that jock who needs to keep up with his quizzes. Keith already knew some of these students, but he started to see them in a different light. These are the students he teach, not his friends, not his classmates, not his football teammates.

Keith fell back on his knees as he started to feel tiredness.

It was exhausting feeling all of these happen in just a few minutes. It hurts his eyes to see the outside change between night and day as if like flashing images. His vision started to blur and in replace to his clear sight, a thick round glasses appear on his face.

He remember finishing college and finally started his first practice teaching. Now he’s a fully pledged professor. Everyone liked him. He can even remember students confessing their feelings for him, but of course, declining these for his job. He can remember going into classrooms, not to sit with the crowd, but to stand in front of them. He knows how to make a hard topic fun and he knows his students enjoy his class as much as how he loves to teach.

Tiredness was replaced with pleasure as he arched his back, placing both hands on his crotch, then giving a loud satisfying moan. Feeling his cock ballooned through his shorts. He slowly humped against his hands as he put more pressure on them.

He remember tons of hook ups from college up to recent. Remembering women bouncing on him, kissing him passionately, touching him with deep romantic and sexual connection. These thoughts of women is making him hard. His colleagues had been asking him why he haven’t been properly dating anyone yet, or even planning to marry anyone since he’s already nearing age of marriage, but he just enjoys having flings with a lot of people more than sticking to one, at least, for now. He knows when he will find that right person, and that person has not come yet.

He realized that both of his hands are already in his underpants, pawing that hard cock with one hand, while the other is teasing his tip. He finally had let both of his hands stroke his large shaft. He pulled his cock out of his shorts, then finally gave into pleasure.

“A-Ah! Yeah! Damn!” He cussed in his new deeper voice. Not only that he noticed his voice, he realized that his cursing got more softer, less of that slurs, but more of that expression used to show immense satisfaction. “Aww.. This feels so...”

He cut himself as he finally real his climax, cumming all of what seemed like a 14 year stock of cum all over the floor. The cum stain on the floor disappeared soon enough and his room straightened up more. Finally the quick changing of time came to a full stop.

It was morning and it’s time to take a shower and go to school.

---------

Wish was completed. Please take a picture and attach to the log to confirm change and to keep the new reality.

I stared at the pop-up message in my phone. Peter and Tom are laughing beside me while they eat their lunch. I haven’t seen Keith since morning. I’m kinda worried if I messed up with something. The suspense is killing me and I don’t like this. Tom waved a hand in front of me.

“Dude. You’re been staring in your phone since the time you got here. You fine?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just wondering where Keith has gone to.” I said.

“Keith? Who’s Keith?” Tom asked, before giving me a shocked face. “You don’t mean Professor Keith, right?” He chuckled, “Didn’t know he’s your type.” He joked.

I gave him a confused look, then realizing what he meant, I quickly tried to reply back. “N-No! It’s not like that-”

“Tom, don’t tease him. Let him like whoever he likes.” Peter laughed.

“I mean, I should’ve been saying the same. But then, who wouldn’t fall head over heels for Professor Keith? He’s damn ripped. Unlike the other professors here who focus on growing their stomach and ego, more than growing their muscles.” Tom continued eating his food.

Keith’s a professor now, huh? I guess it worked.

After lunch, we proceeded to class. More than usual, everyone had been talking about Keith. I was sitting on my chair, still staring in my phone as it display the same message. I haven’t used this phone on anything else yet.

My attention switched to Alex who walked in front of me. I haven’t seen Alex in 2 days. He looks like he wants to ask me something. I looked at him and he opened his mouth. “Hey, Felix, uhm... Can we talk-”

“Okay, class back to your seats.”

A deep voice came booming through the room. Everyone sat back to their chairs, including Alex who looks disappointed.

I looked at the man by the whiteboard. He was wearing a denim dress shirt and a black jeans. His round glasses flare with the florescent light in the room. Everyone in the room is staring at him. Most girls are looking at him with hearts in their eyes.

The man dropped his things on the table, then started roaming his eyes around the room. “Before we start our lesson. Felix, a word.” He called onto me. I looked around to see everyone looking to my direction, most of them in shock. “Come now.” He said, walking out the room.

I hurried out to follow him somewhere. He didn’t bother looking back, and I just rushed to follow him. He finally stopped where there are barely no students around. He sat down by the window and stared at me. I just stared at him back, looking from his head to toe. He scuffed and gave me a short chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grinned.

“I- Uhm. Sorry, prof. I don’t swing-”

“Nah! I’m messing with you, man!” He laughed. “It’s me! Keith! Well, it’s Professor Keith for you now.”

My eyes widened. This man is Keith. It worked. I mean why am I so surprised right now? I’m the one who knows about this Diary App.

“I’m enjoying this knowledge so much! I know about A LOT of stuff I never knew before. So this is how it feels to be a professor.” He flexed, touched his muscles, and basically showed off. He pulled out an apple and tossed it around. “A students gave this to me today. I never received any offer from anyone.”

“You like it?” I asked him.

“I like it? I LOVE IT! Though, I might not stay like this forever, at least I don’t want to.” He replied.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” I asked him.

“Well... For now I want to enjoy being this kind of adult.” He answered.

He stopped for a while, running his fingers against his chin. He then took a bite from the apple he was holding, chewing it thoroughly, then swallowing.

“The reason why I’m asking your help is... I want to experience being different people for the whole week.”

[sunrisefairy]

Let me take care of you

Pairing: George Weasley x reader Word Count: 2.1k Warning: NSFW! fingering, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, dirty talk, swearing  Summary: Y/N is feeling stressed from university so George decides he needs to help her relax.  A/N: I dunno, kind of very proud of this one. Tried something new and decided to write some smut. Think it turned out okay.  Taglist: I’m assuming these people would still like to be included in the taglist for smutty fics, please tell me if you would like to be taken off or added! @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines​ @georgeweasleyswhre​ 

————————————————————————

It was nearing the end of the school year which means the deadline for final assignments and exams were fast approaching. Y/N was in her final year of her psychology degree and had spent the majority of her time cramming in revision or working on some essay.

You could find Y/N either at her part time job at the local florist or at home, hunched over her desk with numerous opened textbooks and half-drunk coffee cups strewn around. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of time recently for her boyfriend, George. He didn’t mind though, he knew how important getting good grades were to Y/N so he would help out where he could, mostly by making sure dinner was ready when she got home from work or running to the library when Y/N needed another textbook.

Normally he could convince Y/N to take a 15 minute break without much persuasion if he presented her with freshly baked cookies, they’d sit on the couch and munch on the treats while George played with her hair before she’d sigh and say she better get back to her essay. But for the past 2 weeks Y/N has hardly moved from the desk chair only getting up when she had work. George has found her on more than one occasion slumped over the many books and papers, lightly snoring because she fell asleep. As soon as George would try and guide her to bed, she’d jolt up and mumble about needing to keep studying.

George was starting to get worried for Y/N’s mental and physical health if she didn’t slow down and rest, no matter what he tried nothing seemed to work so he had one last trick up his sleeve.

Y/N was once again sitting at her laptop typing away frantically, she had gotten off of work at 5pm, scoffed down some dinner and immediately opened up a textbook. It was now 10:45pm and Y/N had no plans on taking a break soon.

“Georgie babe, can you grab me another coffee?” Y/N called out over her shoulder.

George ignored her request and came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders massaging them lightly. “Darling, I think you’ve had enough coffee for the day. How about you finish up and we can lay in bed and get some sleep?”

Y/N shook her head not looking up at him, “can’t George, I’m so close to finishing this essay.”

George sighed; he could see the dark circles forming under her eyes deciding now would be the perfect time to try the last thing which might get Y/N to relax. He pushed Y/N’s hair off her shoulder. She was wearing one of George’s old band tees which was way too big for her and left some of her shoulder exposed. George lent down and started leaving soft kisses along her skin.

“Georgie, I don’t have time” Y/N mumbled quietly trying to shrug him off.

George persisted and kept leaving kisses along his girlfriend’s shoulder before stopping at the base of her neck and sucking a dark purple mark, causing Y/N to let out a breathy sigh.

“Come on baby, I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you, let me take care of you.” Y/N turns her head slightly to see George better and he takes this opportunity to connect their lips. Y/N moans into George’s mouth. “I miss that pretty little pussy of yours, princess. Don’t you miss my cock and how well I fuck you? I’ll make you feel so good baby, promise.”  

Georges words go straight to Y/N’s core and she can already feel herself getting wetter by the second. There is no way she’ll be able to concentrate on her work now. So, she nods and stands up, pulling George up with her. “Want you to take care of me Georgie, need you to fuck me.”

George grins and grabs the back of Y/N’s legs, instructing her to jump, which she does and wraps her legs tightly around his waist. Y/N tangled her fingers into George’s red hair and connects her lips to his neck. George walks them to the bedroom and sits on the end of the bed with Y/N now in his lap. He toys with the end of her shirt before pulling it off groaning at the sight.

“Fuck baby, no bra?” He begins peppering kisses down her chest before attaching his mouth to her nipple, his fingers massaging her other breast.

Y/N whines, her body aching for some relief she starts rocking her hips against George feeling his cock harden under his sweats.

“Look at you, being so desperate for me princess. Bet you can’t wait for me to fuck you huh?” George’s hands coming down to grip Y/N’s hips and helping her rut against him.

Y/N lets out a breathy moan screwing her eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling of George’s harden length beneath her.

“What do you need darling? My fingers? My mouth? Tell me and it’s all yours.” George asks kissing along Y/N’s jaw which opens slightly a silent moan falling off her lips. “Gotta use your words baby. Tell me what you want.”

Y/N opens her eyes and connects them with George, “both Georgie. Want your fingers and mouth, please.”

George immediately lays Y/N down on the bed, her head resting on the pillows. His calloused fingers caressing her sides before hooking into the waistband of her pants and pulling them down slowly.

A sharp gasp leaves Y/N’s lips as George nips on the skin on her thigh.

“Already so fucking wet for me.” George rubs his finger against Y/N’s soaked panties before pulling them off.

Y/N spreads her legs further for George, desperate for him. “Please Georgie, need your mouth.”

“Anything for you, my darling” Y/N’s cunt is already glistening and begging for some attention. George wastes no time and licks a strip from her entrance up to her clit before sucking on the sensitive bud. Y/N rolls her head further back into the pillow and attaches her hand into George’s fiery locks shamelessly trying to pull him closer.

George hums sending vibrations against Y/N’s clit while he massages her wet folds with his fingers before he glides two digits into her heat and starts pumping slowly.

Y/N starts rocking her hips against Georges face and fingers silently begging for more.

George smirks as he lightly nips Y/N’s clit continuing to fuck Y/N with his fingers extremely slow much to Y/N’s dismay. His mouth moves to her thigh, mumbling against her skin. “If you want something baby, you gotta use your words.”

Y/N groans at Georges request, he was always persistent in making her more vocal in bed. He knew exactly what she wanted; he was just teasing. She tugs on George’s hair forcing him to meet her eyes, “I need you to fuck me harder with your fingers, please, I need you so badly Georgie.”

If George wasn’t making Y/N feel so amazing, she’d wipe that smug smirk of his face but her thoughts quickly disappear as George adds a third finger and quickens his pace, his free hand pressed against Y/N’s stomach, keeping her still. Y/N whimpers feeling George’s long fingers start brush against her g-spot, her walls clenching around him as pleasure builds up in her stomach, “feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you taking my fingers so well, darling. Being such a good girl for me, letting me stretch you out for my cock.” Y/N lets out a heavenly moan which goes straight to Georges already throbbing dick, which is aching for some relief in his pants. George starts rubbing circles against Y/N clit with his thumb, determined to make Y/N come on just his fingers.

Y/N starts panting, her hips bucking up to meet George’s movements tightening her grip in his hair, his name falling from her lips, “fuck, fuck. I’m close.” She uses her free hand to pinch her nipples in between her fingers as the arousal in her belly builds.

George sucks harshly on her thigh, stretching her out with his fingers. “Come on my fingers baby, show me how good I make you feel.”

With George’s words Y/N is coming hard against his fingers, her back arching off the bed. George continues pumping his fingers into her cunt milking her through her orgasm. Once her breathing has slowed, he slowly pulls out his digits, his mouth watering with how they are glistening. George lifts his fingers to Y/N’s lips and watches as she opens wide and circles her tongue around his long fingers sucking hard and humming as she tastes herself. He pulls them out with a pop dragging his thumb against her bottom lip, “so pretty. Think you’re ready for my cock now princess?”

Y/N nods her head eagerly, reaching up to pull of Georges shirt, “god yes please, miss being full of you.”

She drags her nails down George’s toned chest while he rids himself of the rest of his clothes. George wraps his hand around his cock and notices Y/N’s eyes glued to him as strokes himself, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “Like what you see babe?” Y/N only rolls her eyes at him.

George leans over Y/N, propping himself up with his forearm while his other hand is wrapped around his cock teasing her entrance. Y/N hooks her legs around George’s waist, bucking her hips up trying to find some friction. “Please George, need you to feel me up with your cock.” Y/N knows she sounds desperate, but it’s been way too long since George has fucked her and now that he’s right here she can’t wait a second longer.

George starts to slowly push forward not stopping until his hips are flush against Y/N’s. “Shit Y/N, you’re so still so fucking tight even after I stretched up out with my fingers.”

Y/N sighs contently feeling George’s cock buried deep inside her, she missed him stretching her out like this. The room is filled with moans and grunts at George starts pounding into Y/N. She can feel the tip of his cock rub against her g-spot with every thrust. Y/N grabs onto his shoulders her nails digging into his skin, most likely leaving marks, but she didn’t care.

“Taking me so well, baby. Such a good girl” He praises, his fingers coming down to rub circle on her sensitive bud, leaving open mouthed kisses against the base of her throat. “You feel so fucking good clenching around my cock, this sweet little pussy is all mine, hey princess? Tell me who this cunt belongs too?”

Y/N bites her lip trying to suppress a moan but failing, “you Georgie, you always make me feel so good. Always fuck me so good.”

George hoists Y/N’s legs around his shoulders allowing him to hit deeper inside her cunt. Y/N’s eyes roll back into her head at the new position, her fingers pinching and massaging her breasts. George is slamming into her harder now and more gasps are leaving Y/N’s mouth. “Fuck Y/N you look so fucking pretty like this. Letting me fill you up with my cock.”

Y/N reaches down to play with her clit desperately needing to reach her second orgasm. “Love being so full of your thick cock Georgie. Feels so fucking good.”

Y/N feels George twitch inside of her, he’s close but she knows he won’t finish until she has. He snaps his hips harder into Y/N causing her to moan his name. George can feel her walls clenching around him causing him to groan loudly.

Y/N tangles her fingers in Georges hair pulling his lips to meet hers, “Georgie. Fuck, I’m-I’m so close.”

George tugs on her earlobe with his teeth “want you to cum around my cock Y/N.” With a few more deep thrusts Y/N comes, her legs shaking from the pleasure rushing throughout her body. She squeezes her eyes shut George’s names leaving her pretty mouth like a mantra.

Y/N pulsating and tightening around George pushes him over the edge and he releases his load inside of her groaning into her neck. He slowly rocks his hips as they come down from their highs before gently pulling out and laying on the bed pulling Y/N into his side.

“I love you” Y/N whispers, tracing patterns into his sweaty chest.

George plants a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you too darling, so much.” Y/N can feel her eyes getting heavy, sleep wanting to overtake her body. George notices this and squeezes her shoulder. “How about I run you a warm bath, get you cleaned up, then we can get some sleep yeah?”

Y/N mumbles a reply against his skin feeling exhausted. “Maybe I should overwork myself more often if it means you’ll take care of me like this.”

George chuckles and sits up, pulling Y/N up with him and gently stroking her back, “baby you and me both know I always take of you, don’t need a reason.”

Y/N smiles sweetly up at George, feeling very blessed to have such a caring boyfriend.

[greengrayeyeswrites]

shit-faced in love (chapter five)

Title: shit-faced in love

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC (fem!youtuber!reader)

Word Count: 1,158

Warnings: Mental Health/Mental Illnesses are a big topic in this story. Mentions of depression, bpd and other mental illnesses. Angst, Fluff.

Note: This may be a Corpse x OC story but feel free to insert yourself into the main girls role. If Corpse ever announces that he doesn’t like fanfics about him, I’ll delete this.

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

Author’s Note: Hello guys! I am very, very sorry that I didn’t update this any sooner. I’ve had a lot of troubles with my mental health lately, especially my bpd acting up and making me feel so worthless I wanted to punch myself in the face with a chair... But I thought that I need to get my shit back together and post a new chapter. I am really sorry about the delay. All these likes I am getting on a story that I mainly write for myself is overwhelming... so a massive thank you!

Also HAPPY BIRTHDAY CORPSE!

— — —

Imogen ended up being MIA for two whole days. She didn’t update her Twitter after cancelling the stream and didn’t upload anything on her Instagram story and her feed. 

The day after her bad mood swing she stayed at home and Baylee came over. The two girls were spending the day on the couch watching silly old-school romcoms; Buddy sitting in between them in case Imogen needed him.

They were watching movie after movie, falling asleep in between and Imogen felt bad for Baylee. She apologized for being so unmotivated, boring and weird today but Baylee quickly shook her head and told her that it was okay. 

Imogen couldn’t believe how happy she was to have Baylee as her friend, but since she was shifting from black to white thinking and back to black, she couldn’t really feel the happiness she knew existed somewhere. 

All she felt was emptiness and sadness. The episode lasted four whole hours and Imogen fell asleep crying in the middle of it. 

On her final day in Houston, Imogen and Baylee decided to go shopping and Imogen wanted to spoil her best friend. She got her a new computer and a new phone—which Baylee couldn’t quite believe. But Imogen was persistent and wanted her to keep the things.

Imogen then rented a beautiful NCT green colored Jeep Wrangler; which the girls immediately tried out when they were driving to the Space Center Houston for their last day.

„You almost sounded like MrBeast, when you gave me the phone and Macbook“ Baylee chuckled, as the girls looked for a parking lot in front of the Space Center. „I mean I’m meeting him and the crew next week for the first time, so I have to practice“, Imogen grinned, feeling way happier then a few days back.

„D’you already know what you’re doing with them?“ Baylee asked, but Imogen shook her head, when her phone rang with a message notification.

„Would you mind?“ Imogen asked nodding towards her phone, that was peeking out of her totebag in front of Baylee’s feet. Buddy was lifting his head from the backseat, looking at his owner and her friend.

„You got a voice message from Corpse“ Baylee read the notification on the lock screen and Imogen gulped. „Would you mind playing it?“ The twenty-eight year old asked and Baylee nodded, unlocking Imogen’s phone and pressing play.

The first thing both girls could hear was shuffling in the background before Corpse’s deep voice rang in their ears. „Whaddup baby?“, he asked and a shiver went through Imogen’s body, while she maneuvered the car into a parking lot. 

Baylee slapped her hand over her mouth, staring at Imogen in shock. Hearing his go-to phrase so close to her ears and so intimate was kinda scary. Baylee felt like she was eavesdropping.

„How are you feeling?“ Corpse asked, „We were kinda worried when you didn’t respond to the group chat. I know I go MIA as well but you usually told us what was wrong. Rae was worried and I was as well. Please text us soon, so we don’t have to worry anymore.“ 

A quiet breath left his lips and Imogen looked over to Baylee, who was still covering her mouth. „I hope you finish your MrBeast stuff soon. I want to meet you real quick!“ Corpse finished the message and the phone screen turned black.

„Oh my god“ Baylee let out and stared at Imogen. „I felt so bad for listening, Mo!“ She cried out and Imogen gulped. „I feel so bad for not telling them what happened. I know how worried they get when I don't text!“ Imogen shook her head.

„Here, here!“ Baylee pressed the phone into Imogen’s hands. „Text them now! Tell them how you’re feeling and what you’re up to today!“ Baylee turned around to Buddy.

„Buddy, I can’t believe I heard Corpse speak like that! He was genuinely worried!“ Imogen watched her best friend and shook her head.

She had to be honest. Hearing Corpse’s voice like that made her heart jump a little bit. What was he doing with her? She didn’t even know what he looked like, yet he made her heart do weird dancy-dances. 

She knew Baylee was watching her, while she typed into her phone. She knew Baylee wanted to know what she wrote—and she would’ve told her, if she wouldn’t be so shy about it.

When the women came home this night, Baylee decided to crash over in Imogen’s AirBnB. They stayed up most of the night and talked about everything and nothing. They were talking about Baylee’s crush on her co-worker, that didn’t even notice her presence. They spoke about Imogen’s therapy and medication and how Buddy had helped her out of so many dark places already; and then, as the sun was about to rise again, they fell asleep.

— — —

They woke up to Buddy licking their faces, wagging with his tail only a few hours later. Baylee sat up and looked at Imogen, fighting her dog off her.

„You know what? I’m going to miss you.“ Imogen finally got Buddy off her and looked at Baylee. Tears filled her best friends eyes and Imogen looked at her. „Bay“, she whispered and crushed her best friend in a hug. „This week went by way too fast“ Baylee cried into Imogen’s shoulder. „I swear, before I go back to Ireland, I’ll take you on a vacy to Hawaii. So be prepared to take a few days off, once I’m done with my travel!“

Imogen started laughing and Baylee grinned. „Gotcha!“

After having a breakfast together, Baylee helped Imogen pack her stuff and load it into the Wrangler. Imogen was fastening Buddy in the backseat, when she closed the door behind her and hugged Baylee once more.

„Take care, Mo.“ Baylee said and squished Imogen’s cheeks. „I will.“ - „No, I’m serious. When you feel low or sad or empty , turn off the cameras and hold Buddy. Okay?“

Imogen smiled. „I will. Thank you, Bay.“ The girls hugged once more, Baylee clinging on to Imogen as if her life depends on it. „I just wish I could quit my retail job and follow you around, being your camera woman or something.“ Baylee sighed and Imogen looked at her.

Imogen’s brain buzzed. „Keep that in mind, Bay. Okay? I’d even pay you.“ Baylee looked at Imogen and the Irish lass grinned. „Whatever you say, big girl“ Baylee grinned and softly banged the side of the Wrangler.

„Go and take the NCTzen car through the states.“ Baylee grinned and stepped aside to her own car. Imogen grinned and climbed into the Wrangler.

„Good luck on these 1,270 miles!“ Balyee yelled, as Imogen turned on the engine. „Take breaks in between okay?“ Imogen nodded and started backing out of the driveway.

Baylee disappeared into the distance and a piece of Imogen’s heart broke, when she left Houston behind.  

to be continued...

Taglist: @wineandionysus​ @chanbaeol​ @rexit-mo

[bluebellhairpin]

Little Helper

Sam Wilson X Tech!Reader

A/N: I’m back on the Marvel bandwagon. They can’t keep me away apparently. - Nemo

Warnings: Spoilers (TFATWS). Violence. Reader got blipped. 

Summary: Many know The Falcon. Less know his drone, Redwing. And even fewer know about Redwing’s other pilot, You. 

Listening to: ‘Trouble Man’ by Marvin Gaye - ‘I come up hard, but that's ok cause trouble man don't get in my way.’

Masterlist

You’d been working with Sam Wilson for a long time. 

A very long time. 

However most people would never have guessed it, considering you worked out of the spare room in your apartment, and Sam himself didn’t speak of you to anyone else. But the role you played was important. 

After all, Sam couldn’t always fight and control Redwing at the same time. 

More often than not, he had bigger fish to fry, and with his hands tied it was more out of convenience that you took over the reins of his little drone friend until he could take them back again. 

Even if no one else would know, it still felt nice to help out the Avengers every so often. 

So when you thought you fell asleep in the chair in your ‘work’ room - sleep was almost a foreign word to you anyway - and then woke up again, you were confused. 

You thought you were in the middle of helping in Wakanda, why would you have fallen asleep? 

But not only did the clock say 11 am - when last you checked it was 2 in the afternoon - but five years had passed too. You scrambled to fish your phone off your desk, and called Sam faster than you could say ‘Stark Industries’. You started speaking as soon as he picked up. 

“Sam! What’s happened -” you stopped yourself, “- What’s that noise?” 

“Could you,” he grunted, kicking something maybe? “Hop on Redwing please?” 

“Copy that.” You said, booting up your computer, frowning at the dust on it. You took a look around the room. There was dust on everything. 

You opened up the little application for Redwing, and pulled the joystick over, making sure it was plugged in, before grabbing your headset and putting it on too. 

“All set and ready to go. Waiting for your call Falcon.” 

“Give ‘em hell Redwing.” 

You pressed the release button on your keyboard, and Redwing’s camera immediately booted up, giving you a perfect view of a seeming ground zero. The land was leveled, and people were fighting everywhere. You recognized some faces - more like flashes of uniforms - Iron Man’s blasters, lightning off in the distance, a giant red and blue frisbee. 

“I’m guessing I go for -” you maneuvered Redwing out of a clawed hand’s grasp “- the alien-looking ones again.” 

“Yes, the alien-looking ones!” 

“Okay okay, sheesh.” you tutted, choosing the drone’s laser over it’s machine guns. “What’d you say about talking during fights anyways? That poor kid we fought in Germany will think you’re a hypocrite.”

It turned out to be a big fight. Not everyone won, not even those on your side. 

Six months later, Sam and yourself were still as strong of a team as ever, and still no one was any wiser about your involvement in working with him.

Just as well too, you had more than enough struggles of your own. 

Your apartment was one of the lucky ones, since apparently your landlord didn’t want to sort through your boxes of ‘kindling’ - files - and your ‘gizmos’ - machine parts - to get rid of it so he could rent the place to someone else. Not many wanted to rent in your building anyway, and he said he thought he ‘needed a memorial for those who disappeared’. 

So even if no one had emptied the fridge for five years, you still had your place. Unlike many other people. 

Your employers, however, no longer had a job for you. They were focusing on helping relocate the displaced, and apparently you couldn’t help with it. So even if you had your apartment now, you might not for much longer.  

At least you still had Sam. And his weird ‘not-friend’ friend Bucky. 

You’d heard about him, for sure, but only met once. That was the same time Sam told you to steal his phone number so you could keep in touch. Something about not knowing when an ex-assassin cyborg in your contact list would come in handy. 

There was something happening between those two, you couldn’t pick what, but it was akin to tension. And you picked up on that from just one meeting.

Sam had mentioned nothing about you and Redwing, only that you worked together. Apparently it was open for Bucky to interpret however he liked, but you were thankful that he made no connection to the drone. 

After his comment about Redwing’s lateness at the airport - with you at the helm - you weren’t too keen on him knowing anyway.

They’d broken Redwing. 

You were a little livid about it, all things considered. Your track-record thus-far had been great, but you’d just been bested by who? Some people stealing medicine? That looks a lot worse than if it happened while fighting Thanos. 

Just your luck. 

So when your intercom buzzed and Sam’s fuzzy voice came through into your kitchen you almost wanted to leave him downstairs. Then he started apologizing - on the sidewalk like it was some romcom - and said he had an old man with him that needed to start walking up the stairs as soon as possible so that he’d be able to make it back down by the time you kicked him out. So you buzzed him and his ‘old man’ in and waited for them in the hallway. 

Soon thereafter, voices started drifting up the stairwell. 

“I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for, it’s not like you cheated on them.”

“I told you, they’re not my -” Sam looked up at you as he turned into your hallway. Meeting your furrowed brow and crossed arms with a sheepish smile. “- Hey, (y/n). How’re you going?” 

You just pointed for him to go inside your apartment. When both him and Bucky were inside - what was Bucky doing here anyway? - you told him how you were going. 

“I’m really angry right now Sam. You can’t tell, but I am.” 

“I completely understand that.” he said, “I’m annoyed too, considering.” 

“Considering what Sam? That you got Redwing split in two?” 

“How do you know about Redwing?” Bucky frowned.

“How did I do that when you were the one piloting her huh?” 

“Me? This is not my fault!” you said, “You were supposed to be watching my six, just like I do for you!”

“That girl came at you head-on, I couldn’t have told you more about it if I painted her bright yellow and covered her in Christmas lights.” 

“You turned my coms off.” you hissed, tapping a pointed finger on his chest, “You said it’d be better since then Bucky wouldn’t know it wasn’t you piloting, and that even though I couldn’t hear anything I could still see plenty. Well I can’t exactly see that these people were super soldiers now, could I!”

“Oh. Right.” 

“You were piloting Redwing?” You looked over a Bucky, seeing him shake his head with his hands on his hips. “Makes sense, by all means, but now I have to not like you as much as before.”

“Nonsense, everyone loves me.” you smiled at him, and he quirked his lips up in an almost smile back at you. Then you turned back to Sam. “So is this all you came for?”

“Partially.”

“Partially?”

“Yeah,” he said, acting a little too coy for your liking, “We might need your help in the not-too-distant future.” 

“You always do that thing, you stay something to get me interested, and then you think if I’m interested I want to do it.”

You stared over at him, daring him to speak again. 

“You don’t wanna do things you're interested in?” 

“Depends what you’re trying to get me interested in.”

[kalimagik]

Strawberry

Fred Weasley x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Requested by @coffee-wihtout-caffeine​ - “Can I request Fred x reader where it’s throughout her pregnancy with supportive Weasley family? Like the entire pregnancy just bits through each month and dealing with the symptoms. Tia”

A/N: I had SO much fun writing this. I was so excited the whole time (i love babies and think pregnancy is beautiful, so I may have gotten carried away). It’s super fluffy, has something for each month, and a whole lot of cute Fred and a supportive Weasley family! It’s not my usual writing style, but still so fun. Feedback is always welcome! Comment, like, reblog! Happy Reading <3 (also, I got too excited to wait til tonight to post it, so its coming early)

Month 1

It had to be the stomach flu, what else could it be? Fred left you in bed that morning after you spent most of the night with your head over the toilet. You racked your mind, trying to figure out where you would have caught the stomach flu. That’s when it hit you. Running to the nearest convenience store, you bought the tests, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

You looked at the pregnancy test again and the other 3 that sat on the vanity, all positive. No, you and Fred weren’t trying for a baby, but you weren’t not trying either. A baby…you were going to have a baby, Fred’s baby.

The butterflies in your stomach were going to have a roommate. The thought made your lips curl into a grin as you looked into the mirror. A baby! Now you just had to tell Fred. Knowing you had a few hours, you rushed around the house like a mad woman. The rest of the day consisted of picking up, making dinner, and making yourself look presentable and not like you had spent most of the day in bed. The day also included throwing up every now and then, but you were actually kind of excited each time because it was just a reminder of the little boy or girl growing in your stomach.

When Fred walked through the door, you had your favorite “Love Songs” playlist playing, the dinner table set, and candles lit throughout the entire flat. “Is someone feeling better?” Fred called out above the music.

“Freddie! I’m in here,” you sang, still cleaning up pots and pans from dinner.

“What is all of this?” Fred asked, eyes widening at the sight laid out in front of him. “Did I forget an anniversary or something?” he chuckled, knowing very well that he didn’t. “This is wonderful, love. But, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Just sit down and you’ll find out!” You beamed, bringing Fred’s favorite food to the table, his mother’s meatballs with onion sauce with a treacle tart and cream puffs on the side for dessert.

“24 hour stomach flu pass?”

“Uhhh, for the most part,” you skirted around the subject a bit. You had a plan to tell him about the baby.

Dinner went by with your usual conversations about the day, the shop, and how George and the rest of the Weasleys were doing. When tart had been dished out, you stood up from your seat and went behind the couch to get your little gift.

“Okay, what is going on?” Fred asked, now confused as to why he got his favorite dinner, dessert, and now a present. “Did you do something I should be angry about? Did someone else do something that I should be taking credit for?”

“No, silly,” you giggle, sitting the present in front of him. “Just open this!” You watch him intently while standing as he takes the tissue paper out of the bag and unwraps the first little gift. The white tissue paper fell to the floor as he unfolded a little white onesie that read “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

“What’s this for? I’m not going to be an uncle or something am I? Is George around here trying to punk me?”

You just shook your head, an amused, close lipped smile set on your face. “Open the next one.”

Fred stuck his hand back into the small, blue bag and pulled out the long box that had probably once held a bracelet. When he pulled the lid off, there was the 4th and final positive pregnancy test that you had taken earlier in the day. Fred looked up at you, eyes wide. The hand not holding the box with the test reached for the onesie as he put two and two together.

“Are you- Is this? Does this mean-” You just nodded as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m pregnant,” you told him with a laugh/cry. Honestly, you weren’t sure what the noise was, but it was a happy one. Fred flew out of his seat so quickly to embrace you that his chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked again once he finally let you go and stopped kissing your face. You could only nod as the happy tears streamed down your face. “Oh, I guess I shouldn’t hug you so hard. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little lad or gal would I?”

“I think the little Weasley will be okay,” you smirk, hugging Fred a little tighter.

“So when can I tell George?”

You laugh as you kiss Fred’s cheek. “Not just yet, darling. Let’s see a doctor first”

Month 2

“So I can tell Georgie right after this right?” Fred asked as you sat in a room at St. Mungo’s waiting for the doctor.

“I enjoy you pretending to wait for my permission when I know you already told him,” you laugh, squeezing Fred’s hand while he helps you onto the chair for the mothers to be. “He was not very subtle when I came by the shop the other day. He was talking about inventing baby friendly products for the shop.” You rolled your eyes sarcastically at the memory.

“Okay, I may have apparated to our little flat above the shop where he was at the time after you fell asleep the night that you told me.” He pouted, looking for forgiveness from you.

You had to stifle your giggles when the doctor knocked on the door to let you know that she was entering.

“Good afternoon Y/N,” she smiled at you as she pulled out the contraption for looking at the baby’s growing form. “I see you have Fred Weasley with you again.”

The last appointment, he may or may not have dropped a dung bomb that made its way into his jacket pocket accidentally on their way out.

“Hello there, Dr. Woodson,” Fred grimaced. “Good to see you again. Don’t worry, I double checked my pockets before coming this time.”

“Very good,” your doctor nodded curtly. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?”

Your doctor talked you through the images that you and Fred saw on the screen. “Your baby is now about the size of a pomegranate seed since you’re in the 6th week,” she finished. You sat and watched in awe. The baby was so much bigger than just a few weeks ago when you were in for the first visit that confirmed your pregnancy. “Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Woodson asked at the end of the appointment.

You shook your head, already having read all about it in the pregnancy books you had bought a few weeks earlier. Fred was the one to pipe up. “So, my brother’s wife was pregnant a year ago or so, and she got really, really cranky. Is my wife going to do that too?”

“Fred?!” you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the arm.

“You see, it’s already starting a little bit and I was just wondering how bad it will actually get.” He continued ignoring you.

Your doctor chuckled slightly before she stood up with your charts in hand. “It was good to see you both again. Y/N, you can schedule your next appointment at the front desk on your way out. Send me an owl if you have any questions or concerns.”

After saying goodbye, Fred helped you off the chair, even though he didn’t have to, and you dressed back into your clothes that were not yet maternity wear, but starting to get a little snug in some areas.

“All ready, love?” he asked after you dressed.

“Let’s go.”

Month 3

“Are you ready?” Fred asked as you stood at the door of his childhood home. He was grinning from ear to ear. Today was the day that the two of you had decided to tell his family about the baby. You told your parents a few days earlier and they couldn’t be happier, but that was two people. Now it was time to face Fred’s parents, six siblings, and all of their significant others.

“Very ready,” you smiled back. Fred had been sitting on the edge of his seat for nearly a month whenever you visited. It was the end of your third month and therefore an appropriate time to start telling the family.

“Mum! We’re here!” Fred called out as he opened the door.

“OHHH! Y/N, Fred! Welcome. I’m so happy you both could make it!”

“We always come for Sunday night dinner, Mrs. Weasley,” you laughed while being buried into one of her notorious bear hugs.

“Woah there, mum. Don’t want to crush Y/N and our-” Fred cut himself off before he let the word ‘baby’ slip. Luckily, Molly was a blur around the house that she hadn’t even noticed. After giving Fred a quick hug, she called up to the rest of the family and feet began stampeding down the stairs.

“Wow, it is getting a little crowded in here,” you laughed as you hugged Ginny, Hermione, George, Ron, Harry and then Bill, Charlie, Fleur and little Victoire. “Even Teddy is here!” you smiled as you hugged the 3 year old with bright blue hair.

“The more the merrier is our motto!” Arthur Weasley boomed as he came into the kitchen as well.

“It’s a good thing that you think that way, dad!” Fred beamed, sharing a quick glance with George. At this rate, the family was going to learn the news before everyone even sat down for dinner.

Pre-dinner chats ensued and then Mrs. Weasley called them all from the living room to the table. That’s when she started handing out the wine. She had decided it was a special occasion because EVERYONE was at dinner. Bill and Fleur were in France the previous week and Charlie was back from Romania for a period of time. Even Percy managed to pull himself away from his busy work life. You looked at Fred with a small, close lipped smile, letting him know that it’s time to spill the news. Everyone would find out soon enough when you refused the wine.

You took your seat next to Fred with Ginny on your other side, leaning into Fred as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your temple. Then, he cleared his throat to get the 12 other people’s attention.

“I’d like to make a toast,” he announced, raising his glass. “I can’t imagine this night being any better. Spending time with my amazing family, the extensions included,” he nodded to Harry, Hermione, and Fleur. “It’s a big family, but it’s about to get a little bigger. Currently a plum size bigger.” You nudged Fred slightly. He had been making fun of you for announcing which food your baby’s size matched each week.

“Oi, cut to the chase down there. I can’t hold it in for much longer! I’m bursting at the seams over here!” George hollered from the other end of the table.

Your smile grew as you made eye contact with Molly. You could tell she already knew what Fred was going to say, but was letting him break the news.

“Y/N and I are pregnant!” Fred’s signature grin was plastered on his face and you didn’t think that he’d been wiping it off anytime soon.

“This is brilliant!” Ginny cheered as she wrapped an arm around you. “I get to be an aunt, again!” she smiled at Victoire.

“Victoire,” Fleur got the little girl’s attention. “Yoo are going to be a couzin to a ittle boy or girl. Eesn’t zis exciting?”

“Ronald and I can babysit whenever you need a break,” Hermione offered, Ron nodding along, even though he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to be with a baby around his fiancé just yet.

The congratulations and excitement lasted all through dinner. By the end, Bill and Fleur offered you Victoire’s baby clothes if you had a girl, Arthur said he could fix up the cradle they used for all their children, Molly had already started knitting a little hat and bootie set. It was crazy and chaotic, but you loved every second of it. This was your wild family now and the wild family that your baby would get to grow up with.

Month 4

You paced around your flat with a hand on your forehead and one on your stomach. You had just gotten back from your appointment, the high of telling the Weasley family about the pregnancy two nights ago still lingering. Of course, once you went to see Dr. Woodson, the feeling changed.

-

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Dr. Woodson had said as she ran her wand over your stomach to look at the baby.

“What?” you asked. She’d never said anything like that before.

“It seems we may have missed something.” She pulled an image up. “Normally we would catch this earlier, but see that there.” She pointed and you nodded. “Well, there appears to be a second fetus and a second heartbeat that I must have missed before. Y/N Weasley, you are having twins!”

-

Laying down on the couch, you thought about what having twins would mean. Two of everything really. Fred and George’s shop was doing great again and they were acquiring Zonko’s in Hogsmeade too, so money wouldn’t technically be an issue. But, twins! They could be a little Fred and George exactly and that would be a handful. The doctor never said that they were identical necessarily, so you could have a boy and a girl.

“Honey! I’m hoooome!” Fred sang opening the door.

“With your favorite brother-in-law!” George sang after him.

Both twins sat grocery bags on the table. “What’s all this?” you asked, mind still focused on the news you got earlier in the day.

“We have decided to cook you dinner!” George said triumphantly.

You looked at the identical faces that stood before you, both grinning at you. “Fred, we’re having twins!” you blurted out at them, not able to hold it in any longer. Fred dropped the bag he was still holding, apples and oranges rolling all over the floor.

“Twins.” He said, eyes glazed over, looking past you and at the wall, where the onesie that you gave him the day you told him you were pregnant was hanging.

“You’re going to have a mini Fred and I?!” George squealed in excitement. He shook Fred’s shoulders, bringing him back to the present.

“That we are!” you smiled, appreciating the enthusiasm. “Well maybe, we could have girls, or a girl and a boy. We won’t know until the end of next month,” you explained, rambling.

That’s when Fred went into total care mode. “Do you need to sit down? You should be sitting down. Mum always complained about what Georgie and I did to her body and how hard carrying twins was.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Freddie,” you giggled, “maybe YOU should sit down!”

“Yes, perhaps I shall, love.” Fred plopped down onto the couch as you went into the kitchen to grab him a cup of water. “Twins, wow.” You heard him breathe out in the living room.

“He is happy about it, just processing,” George whispered to you as he started to put your groceries away.

“I know,” you smiled, “he is going to make a great dad!”

Month 5

Your stomach was really bulging at this point. Two little ones growing in there. You were beyond excited as you slid on a maternity dress with sunflowers plastered all over it. It had become your favorite dress, comfortable, stretchy, it had pockets. But, today, you put it on for your gender reveal party. Originally, you and Fred were going to wait and be surprised by the sex of the babies, but Molly and even George changed your minds.

They agreed that once they received the news, Dr. Woodson would write the genders on pieces of paper, seal them in an envelope, and send them with an owl to Molly. Now, you were getting ready for that party. You were more going along with Fred when you originally said you’d wait to find out the sexes, but now you were giddy!

“Love, are you ready? Everyone is downstairs,” Fred knocked on his childhood door as he opened to take in the room that hadn’t changed in years. You followed Fred down the stairs, him holding your hand the whole way to ensure that you didn’t trip down the stairs. He may be loud, boisterous, and reckless usually, but since he learned about the twins, he treated you as if you were a china doll, it was so sweet.

“Surprise!” a hoard of people called when you exited the Burrow. The Weasleys had completely decked out their yard on the spring evening. Twinkle lights flooded the area with light as the sun set to the west. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom had brought in tons of flowers that surrounded the tables. All the pinks and blues were bright as can be, signifying the news that was about to be shared with everyone, even the parents.

“Merlin! It’s beautiful! Thank you,” you beamed, taking in as much of the yard at once as possible.

The party was a blast. Blue and pink food. Cute little presents left out with yellows and greens. Tons of little Gryffindor attire, even though you’d be okay with your children being in any of the houses. But the time for the reveal drew closer.

“Y/N, Fred. Stand here,” Molly ordered them. “George is out back setting everything up.”

You were shaking with excitement. Your family and Fred’s family all held sparklers that lit the darkness. The colors reflected off of your and Fred’s skin. He glanced over at you and whispered, “You’ve been glowing this whole time, but you’re really glowing now,” before leaning down and kissing your cheek.

“Everyone ready?” George called from behind the hedge. “3…2…1!”

The sky exploded with fireworks of blue and pink. Your hand flew to your mouth as you took in the sight. “We’re getting a little boy AND a little girl, Freddie,” you laughed, happy to now know. Fred hugged you tightly, leaving just enough room for your protruding belly.

“We’re having a boy and a girl,” he repeated, grinning ear to ear. Everyone let the two of you have your moment before flooding you with hugs and congratulations.

Month 6

“Psssst, Freddie.” You whispered, peaking at the clock quickly. It read 1:30 AM…oops.

“Yes, love,” Fred whispered as he yawned before turning over and lazily slinging an arm over your body.

“I’m hungry…” you said, big, pouty, pleading eyes already in place as Fred opened one of his. “Will you pleeeeease get me some chocolate covered strawberries and the cheesiest nachos you can find?”

“That is the strangest combination that I have ever heard.” Fred grunted as he pushed the blankets down. “You sure you can eat both of those things?”

So far, you had found that you could no longer even look at any kind of fish, tuna was WAY out of the question, the smell of tomatoes made you gag, and turkey was a big no go. In fact, most meat was starting to make you queasy and you could only eat it sometimes.

“It’s what I’m craving, so I think so?”

“Sounds good, love. I’ll be right back.” Fred threw on some pants and a jacket and apparated out of the flat. You laid back in your bed, feeling extremely content as you pulled the blankets up to your chin just to throw them off. You’d been going from freezing to feeling like a million degrees every few minutes.

That familiar pop could be heard as Fred brought the food to you in bed. “Nachos and chocolate covered strawberries for my beautiful, glowing wife. We can never go back to the Spanish restaurant on the corner or the market next to it ever again. You don’t want to know how angry the owners were when I woke them up.”

You had already dug into the food before Fred could undress and get back into bed again. “Are you going to save me any?” he chuckled, sliding back into the sheets.

“Yes, you can have some.” You told him, mouth full and chocolate dribbling down your chin.

“Let me run to the loo before I go to bed again,” Fred told you, getting up once more. By the time he walked back into the room, you were there fast asleep, box of chocolate covered strawberries on one side and box of nachos on the other. Fred couldn’t stop laughing as he picked up the open food and wiped off your face before kissing your forehead and pulling you close to him.

Month 7

“FRED!! It’s so hot!” you complained. You could feel the sweat sliding down every inch of your body and you felt disgusting. You felt huge and being pregnant was not fun anymore. You were big, couldn’t move easily, and your ankles had swollen to three times their normal size.

In the July heat, you just felt terrible.

“Let me get you another fan and some lemonade.” Fred offered.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so cranky with you,” you apologized to Fred when he came to sit back down next to you, handing you a glass of lemonade.

“You have every right to be cranky with me,” he smiled, kissing the side of your head as he had been doing so often now. “You’re carrying my babies. Speaking of which, we should come up with some names. It could be fun!”

You took a deep breath, trying to relax on the couch. “Yes, let’s do that!” Fred had already begun preparing the nursery and Molly and Fleur had sent over hordes of clothes. Planning was tiring you out, as fun and cute as it was, so maybe brainstorming names would be a blast.

“Now, George thinks we should name at least one of them after him. If we did that, we should name the girl Georgia because I think George would throw a fit if the girl was actually named after him. And then the boy could be Fred Jr.”

You looked dead eyed at Fred, not thinking his ‘joke’ was funny. “We are not making, no excuse me, forcing our twins to be mini-yous. Nope, not happening. Veto, next.”

“Okay, geez,” Fred chuckled as he took your hand in his own, knowing you would complain about being hot if he put his arm fully around you.

“Mhmmmm,” you thought out loud. “What about Andrew for the boy. You know, for my brother? I’d like to honor him after losing him 2 years ago in the war.”

“I think that would be nice,” Fred smiled softly at you. “Andrew it is. Andrew Weasley has a good ring to it. We can call him Drew for short too.”

“I think so too,” you agreed.

“Now, for a girl, this is a serious suggestion,” Fred prepared you. “Olivia. I’ve always liked that name.” he played with your fingers.

“Andrew and Olivia Weasley. I think it could work. That was much easier than I thought it was!” You laughed with joy.

“Fred, Y/N, Andrew, and Olivia. Our little family. You like your new names, kids?” Fred spoke to your stomach.

Month 8

“Nope, do not get out of bed!” Fred ordered after you tried to get out of bed. “Doctor’s orders. Plus, Mum is already here.”

Molly Weasley had been coming to your flat nearly every other day to help you and Fred around the house. Dr. Woodson placed you on bed rest the previous week and it was complete AGONY.

“But, Freddie, there is so much we still have to do. I can help.”

“Nope, George and I have it covered. Plus you know the rest of the family will help with whatever we need. You just sit here and rest. Liv and Drew are still growing in there.”

“Yes they are,” you giggled, rubbing your stomach. “I swear they were wrestling in there last night! They were being so active! Kicking and moving around. If these two fight during their entire childhoods, we will be in for some rough years!”

“I bet they will be best friends,” Fred smiled. “Look at Georgie and I! And, if they have any younger siblings in the future, they can team up against them.”

“I should hope not!” you scoffed. Your banter settled as Molly hurried into the room with a breakfast tray.

“Mum will take good care of you today and Ginny mentioned stopping by later, okay?” Fred told you as he kissed you goodbye. “I won’t be too late tonight. Everyone on Diagon Alley seems to know that you’re expecting, so even though business is booming, the shop is ready to be closed at closing!

“Sounds good, dear.” You replied, pushing the eggs to the side. You forgot to tell Molly that you weren’t eating those now because of the babies.

“I’ll take those for you,” Fred chuckled, eating your eggs, sipping some water, and kissing you one more time before leaving. “Have a good day!”

“Bye, hun,” you giggled again as she left. At least you had the company of all the Weasley guests throughout the days when he was gone.

Month 9

“They’re due any day, Freddie!” You squealed. You had attempted to jump a little, but that just made you have to pee, so you stopped that immediately. “When they get here, we can hold them all the time and I’ll be able to move freely!”

You had secretly begun doing the things that you hoped would speed along the delivery date. You were eating spicy foods, walking around when no one was watching you and forcing you back to bed, drinking raspberry tea, everything! Well, not everything. You had try to convince Fred to have sex with you the night before, but he refused. Said it was weird with two babies in there, even though you looked beautiful and he would love to.

You had just rolled your eyes at him in response, but you did try!

“You going to come out soon, little ones?” You asked your stomach. “At least one perk of being so large is that I can sit the box of chocolate covered strawberries on my stomach.” You hummed happily, eating another one of the treats that had been your favorites during your pregnancy.

You had eaten them so many times that Molly just started making them regularly for you so that Fred didn’t have to go buy them at all hours of the day randomly.

“Can I come to Diagon Alley with you today?” you asked hopefully. “I need to get out of this house. Everything is ready and I’ve been cooped up for too long.”

Fred stood there thinking, but you pleaded some more, getting him to finally give in. “Only if you promise to not walk around too much.”

“I promise! I’ll sit at Florean’s the whole time!” You drew and X over your heart to seal the promise.

You breathed in the air deeply as you took in the atmosphere of the Alley. The newer owners of the ice cream shop brought you more ice cream each time that you asked for some and whenever you tried to pay, they refused. Yet another perk of being pregnant.

Numerous people had walked by and chatted with you while Fred was at the shop and he came by every so often to check on you. It was a pleasant day. That was until an excruciating pain occurred in your stomach.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” you whined, hands immediately holding your stomach. “Excuse me,” you pulled one of the waiters aside. “Would you run down to the joke shop and get my husband, please?”

The trip to St. Mungo’s was a blur. Fred was holding your hand the entire way, helping you into your hospital gown, and just being an overall sweetheart as per usual. Molly Weasley and your mum filtered in and out of the room. It wasn’t until Dr. Woodson announced that just those going into the delivery room could stay that the chaos slowed. Even if it was just you and Fred in the room, you knew that every single Weasley and Y/L/N was in the waiting room and would be until your two children entered the world.

Four hours later, you had finished pushing, you had finished working your body to exhaustion. Four hours later, you held two little babies in your arms and they were beautiful. Fred’s smile was so wide and he was so proud as he took Andrew from you and then Olivia.

“You did beautifully, darling,” he whispered, looking at the two children in his arms. The tears were still streaming down your face, stupid post-birth hormones. “Are you ready for the family? They’ll come back in small groups.” You nodded laying your head back on the pillows. It was September 8th. The day your little family had its first addition of many.

You could see the little heads of Olivia and Drew peaking over the blankets as different family members held them. Their hair was strawberry red, just like your favorite snack.