#crinkled eyes my beloved

[mctwinkdom]

Why is he insane.

[loveinstreams]

i am unwell over this btw

[andy-clutterbuck]

Rick Grimes in The Ones Who Live 1x01 - Years

"…𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯…𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴."

[formulaaone]

Logan at the Williams Fan Meet, AUS 2024

[souvenir116]

[livetogether--diealone]

lewis laughing, that's it that's the post

[slutforpringles]

Daniel during the drivers parade ahead of the Imola GP

Sunday | Imola | GSI

[sweetpeapoppy]

[charlespecco]

੭ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ੭

[jtownraindancer]

Ace's TURИ for Burn Rewatch: Valley Forge

[l8tof1]

Just him☹️ the third one is literally “🥹”

him ☹️

i can’t think about his eyes too much or i’ll cry. they’re so expressive and so kind and so beautiful and when they get all shiny with emotion i just. want to weep :)

also, when they do the thing:

[tojisun]

!! fem reader; soft and tender sex :((

simon and the way he worships you — how he trails kisses from your shins to your knees; then nuzzling the inside of your thighs, leaving shallow bites that make your breath hitch, before dimpling the meat of your hips with his hands.

simon and the way he adores you — slow caresses of his fingers on your hardened clit, his thumb gentle against the sensitive nub, before slipping two of his lubed fingers inside your slicked pussy.

he breathes in sharply just as you gasp at the stretch, his eyes alight with his own desire, and greedy as they take in the image that you make: whimpering and squirming, your hands fisting the sheets as your head thrashes from where it lies on simon’s lap. your legs squeeze close at every dizzying slide but simon is quick to prop them open with his free hand, his palm pushing down at the fat of your thigh with a gentle beckoning.

“you feel good, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost devoured by your mewls.

“yes,” you hiccup, blinking your eyes open to meet his. it is awkward as you’re seeing him upside-down but you do not mistake the tenderness in the way simon’s gazing at you.

simon’s looking at you like you are the loveliest thing that ever happened to him and you feel it in his touch; in the way he crooks his fingers when you softly begged, “there, please? s’good there, si.”

his lips wobble and you really, really want to kiss him. and so you ask him just that, your hands loosening their hold on the quilt to caress his bulk—the soft pads of your fingertips tracing the lines of simon’s nerves as they map up his arms. he is so big, his arms are so long, that you couldn’t fully touch them all, but that is alright because simon’s already bowing down to meet your lips.

the kiss feels odd as his lips slot against your own in an opposite angle, still, you tremble at the gentleness of it all.

he sucks on your lower lip and you lick into his mouth, bumping against his tongue. the first touch makes you moan at the same time that simon’s fingers begin fucking you again, and you squeal, your back lifting up from the bed only to be pressed down again by simon’s weight.

he pops off from kissing you with a chuckle. “shh, sweet girl,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

simon and the way he reveres you — how he clings to you just as tight when you tell him you’re cumming.

“so good f’r me,” simon gasps out. “so beautiful. so perfect — look at me, sweet one. look at me- ah,” his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “there she is, my beloved.”

it’s that which pushes you to your orgasm, your heels digging into simon’s back as your head drops into the pillows with a cry. simon follows, folding his body against yours to trace kisses on the column of your throat and you keep cumming, gushing at the intensity of it all.

so good! so good!

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

“I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[corroded-hellfire]

More Munson Than Expected - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Written with my beloved @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: The ultrasound for your second pregnancy brings a new wave of excitement to the Munson household.

Note: The excitement I have to let this secret out of the bag after cooking it up for over a year is real. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Eddie, you didn’t have to come with me,” you remind him again as he pulls up a chair next to the examination table he just helped you get situated on.

Your husband gives you a disapproving look as he makes himself comfortable in the seat. He shakes his head as he reaches out and takes one of your hands in his.

“Did you really think I was going to miss this?” he asks. “No way. I was there for Eliza’s first ultrasound, I’m going to be there for this one’s too.”

“What about the boys?”

Eddie sighs. “I was there for Ryan’s. But I wasn’t aware of when Luke’s was, so I missed it. Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “He would know it wasn’t your fault, though.”

“You keep your mouth shut too, hmm?” Eddie leans over and presses a kiss to your emerging bump. 

“I don’t know if he or she developed a mouth yet,” you say, the sanitary paper crinkling beneath you as you try to get comfortable. 

“Not gonna find out if you’re a he or she,” Eddie continues talking to his developing child. He reaches out and rubs a hand over your stomach. “Wanna see you, though. And make sure you’re healthy.”

The door to the examination room swings open, bringing with it the distinct smell of antiseptic. The ultrasound technician walks in and closes the door behind her.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Munson,” she greets with a smile. “My name is Tara and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. The doctor tells me that you don’t want to know the sex. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod. “We want this one to be a surprise.”

“That is no problem. Let me just set up here and we’ll get started.”

While she gets to work, Eddie helps you as you attempt to tug your shirt up enough to avoid the cold and sticky goo that will inevitably be squirted on your stomach for the ultrasound. You’re able to tuck it into the underwire of your bra just to be sure that it won’t slide back down and get all messy. 

One of the sleeves of Eddie’s jumpsuit falls down and he shoves it back up past his elbow. You take in the navy material, your eye tracing over his name sewn on in red thread over his heart. 

“What time are they expecting you back at work?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “They know where I’m at. They know it might be a little while.” 

“Alright, are we ready?” Tara asks.

“Yep.” You offer your hand to Eddie again and he laces his ringed fingers with yours. 

Tara picks up the bottle of the dreaded goo and squirts a healthy amount on your abdomen. The chill against your skin sends a shiver throughout your body. At least the wand should warm it up as the tech spreads the substance around to get the best view of the baby. 

To you and your husband it feels like you’re just looking at a black screen with wavy white lines on it. Somehow, everything seems to make sense to Tara as she positions the wand on different parts of your stomach. 

“Oh,” she says at one point, stilling the instrument against your skin. “Here we go.”

A soft but steady thump thump thump fills the air of examination room 5. Tears immediately well up in your eyes. You look at Eddie to see him grinning from ear to ear. 

With the slightest movement of the wand sliding against the goo, you hear thump thump thump thump thump thump.

“Oh wow,” you say through a sniffle. “You can hear it even better now.”

“Sounds strong,” Eddie adds. 

“Actually…” Tara trails off.

“What?” Eddie asks. You feel his hand tighten in your grip. “It’s…not strong?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s very strong. It sounds perfect to me. But I want you to listen.” There are a few moments of silence as the three of you listen to the heartbeat. 

“It sounds fast,” you say.

“It does,” Tara agrees. “But if you listen, you can hear some of the beats overlapping one another.”

She leans in towards the screen and moves the wand again, just slightly. A smile grows on her face as she spots something in the mess of gray shapes on the machine. “Hear it?” she asks.

“Yeah, kind of,” Eddie says. “What does that mean?”

“Well, if you look here,” she replies, pointing towards what looks like a small blob, “that’s your baby.”

Pure glee radiates throughout your entire being. It’s your first glimpse at your and Eddie’s new baby. Another life that the two of you created together. You share a quick loving look with your husband before you both become engrossed in the image on the screen again.

“And here…” Tara says, sliding her finger slightly to the right, “is your other baby.”

The room goes silent save for the sound of the heartbeat. Or rather, heartbeats. Though your ears heard the words, your brain is still processing what they mean. It’s clearly the same with Eddie, as he stares at Tara just like you are.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie finally says. He chuckles and licks over his lips. “Did you say, ‘other baby’?”

“I did, indeed.” Tara taps a few keys on the machine, and it looks like it takes a screenshot. “There are two babies here. Two distinct heartbeats and two little nuggets showing off to the camera.”

“Twins.” The word comes out of you as a whispered breath. “We’re having twins.”

“Not just Baby Munson #4,” Eddie adds in a voice as awed as yours. “Baby Munson #5, too.”

“And they both appear to be developing well,” Tara says. 

Eddie laughs. “No. No, we, uh, we’re not having twins.” He looks down at you, then back at Tara. “We decided we’re just having one more. I’m already forty-one, so just the one newborn is already pushing it.”

Tara grins, clearly used to this kind of reaction. “Well, you’d better rest up. Because you’ll be a father to two new little ones in a few months.”

Eddie grabs your hand, still stunned by the news. You can’t say you’re faring much better, although it does explain why this pregnancy has been so much more intense than when you were expecting Eliza. Part of you feels relieved that it wasn’t all in your head. But another part…

“Twins.” The word leaves your lips in an exhale. “We’re…babe, we’re gonna have five kids. We’re gonna be a family of seven.”

A clammy hand squeezes yours, and you glance up to see Eddie visibly trembling. “How am I gonna raise five kids?” He murmurs. “That’s one more than Harrington, and that dude was pretty much born to be a dad.”

Tara’s brows furrow as she cleans off your belly. “I’ll, um, leave you two to discuss.” She starts for the door, then turns around. “Take all the time you need.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, Eddie starts pacing around the tiny exam room. “Okay, okay. We’re having two babies. At the same time.”

“Yes, that’s generally what happens with twins.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “I could do without your sarcasm right now, Sweetheart. I just found out that I’m about to out-kid Steve Harrington.”

“Out-kid?” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Eddie doesn’t pick up on your joking tone. “Yes! He has four, and I’ll have five. Five!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was barely keeping two alive before you came along, and now I’m gonna be responsible for five?!”

“First of all,” you say, pushing yourself up, “you were an amazing dad before we got together. Even before I started watching the boys, when you were basically doing it on your own. Give yourself some credit. Second, Ryan will be going to college soon enough, so we’ll only have four kids in the house.”

Your attempt at consoling your husband falls flat. “Oh my god, I’m gonna have infants while my oldest is gonna be in college! I’m supposed to be slowing down, not re-babyproofing the house!” He buries his head in his hands. “What were we thinking? And why do you always have to look so hot? I wouldn’t be tempted to jump your bones all the time if you weren’t so goddamn sexy.”

You sigh. “I mean, you’re the one who’s always telling me you want to ‘pump me full of your babies.’ Guess now you really did it.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie runs his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. He stands in the same spot, staring at you for a few silent moments before a smile begins to crack through his fog. “Holy shit.”

“Calming down now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Or realizing I’m the one who has to push two of them out of my body?”

Eddie ambles over to you on the examining table and rests his forehead against yours. His shoulders have gone down to their usual height again, no longer bunched up around his ears with tension. 

“Okay, I had my mini freak out,” he says softly, reaching up to tug the hem of your shirt down back over your bump. “You may have yours.”

With a low chuckle, you reach up and cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“I still don’t think it’s hit me yet,” you admit. “Or maybe trying to logic-out your fear helped me with my own, too. I mean, you said something about being too old to re-babyproof the house? Sweetheart, we would have had to do that with one baby anyway.”

“Common sense left me there for a little bit, I’ll admit.”

“And I’ve got one more bone to pick with you,” you say, leaving one hand on his face and using the other to poke him in the chest. 

“What’s that?”

“You said Steve was pretty much born to be a dad. Eddie, out of all the people I’ve ever met in my life, you are definitely the one who was always meant to be a dad.” You lower your hand to your bump. “Because it doesn’t matter if there were one, two, three, or even eight babies in here. You’d still love them all unconditionally and try your hardest to give the world to them.”

“I love our babies,” Eddie replies softly. His hand moves to rest on top of yours on your bump. “I love our twins.”

“Hey, we’ve got some extra resources this time around, too,” you point out. “Ryan drives now. We can recruit him for diaper or formula runs. And he can take Luke and Eliza places if we’re not able to. Luke is old enough now not to be intimidated by being around newborns. He’ll definitely be more hands-on than he was with Eliza. And speaking of the little firecracker…we already know she’s going to be like a mother hen to them. See? Recruiting the kids to help with the kids. And that doesn’t even mention Wayne and all of our friends. At least ninety percent of them owe us from watching their kids at one point or another.” 

“My wife is so smart,” Eddie praises with a small smile. 

“She is,” you reply coyly. “Do you think you could help me off this table, though? Makes sense why it’s been harder for me to get up from things lately—two against one here.”

Eddie gently takes your arms and leads you to a comfortable seated position before helping you hop down from the high table. 

The two of you walk hand-in-hand out of the doctor’s office and across the parking lot to your car. The sun seems warmer and brighter than when you went in. There’s not a cloud in the sky—were there any before? Birds call to one another from the trees that encircle the medical plaza, and their tune brings a smile to your face. Everything seems so light and airy around you that it almost makes you feel like you’re dissociating. But there’s Eddie’s hand in yours. The sneakers you wear knock against the concrete with every step, reverberating the vibration up your legs. You’re very much here in this moment. The magic in the air comes from knowing the amount of love you carried for the bundle of joy in your belly has just doubled. The thought of kissing two little button noses goodnight every day instead of one has you giddy. 

“Baby,” you say as Eddie opens the passenger car door for you. “We’re gonna have double the cuddles.”

“Double the drooly kisses.” The smile on your husband’s face tells you that he’s excited about the prospect. “Double new baby smell.”

You secure your seatbelt and rest both of your hands on your belly as Eddie walks around the car and slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Double the love we give and receive,” you muse softly, looking down at your protruding bump. “I wonder if I’ll get double the pain meds when I’m in labor.”

Eddie laughs as he pulls the car out of the parking space. 

“Time will tell,” he says. “Are you hungry, princess?”

“Yeah. I mean, makes sense, since I’m eating for three,” you reply. “But don’t you have to get back to work?”

“There is no way I’ll be able to focus on anything,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. “I’m taking the rest of the day.”

“Okay. Do you want to get lunch at—oh boy.”

Eddie’s eyes glance over at you before looking back on the road.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not wrong,” you say. “Just…I-I don’t know how we’ll keep this from the kids. We didn’t think we’d have anything to report to them other than the baby being healthy since we’re not finding out the sex. But there’s absolutely no way I won’t slip up and say ‘babies’ or ‘them’ or something that will give it away. I’d rather they hear the news from us directly than catching us in a slip.”

Eddie nods in agreement. “How do you think we should tell them?”

“Umm…” You purse your lips as you start to ponder different scenarios. Both you and Eddie think in silence for a few minutes before he speaks.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea…”

Eliza is thrilled to have both of her parents picking her up from school. The way she goes on and on about an arts and crafts project they did in class today reminds you of when you were just the babysitter and picked Ryan and Luke up from school. Luke always had something interesting to babble on about—much to your amusement. 

Your second oldest is already at home when you walk in the front door holding Eliza’s hand and Eddie trails in behind with a few bags from the store. Usually, Ryan drives both himself and Luke home from school every day, but now Ryan takes SAT Prep classes once a week after school, forcing Luke to take the bus home. Which you’d think was one of the trials of Hercules with how often Luke shares his disdain for the form of transportation. 

“Whatcha got, Pops?” Luke asks from the couch. His hand is buried in a bag of white cheddar popcorn and an episode of Supernatural is on the television. 

“You’ll see,” Eddie tells him, taking the bags straight to your room. Best to keep them out of the way of the two nosiest Munson children. Although, you wonder to yourself if that will change with the new additions. 

Eliza spies the snack her brother has and quickly sheds her Little Mermaid backpack and pink Mary Jane shoes to climb up on the couch next to him. She sticks an arm in the popcorn bag and brings out as big a handful as her little fist would allow her. 

“There’s food in the bags,” Eliza says to Luke through the kernels stuffing her cheeks.

“Huh?” Luke clearly doesn’t speak four-year-old-with-a-full-mouth.

“The bags Daddy has,” Eliza says once she’s swallowed. She wipes her white cheddar covered fingertips on her white tights. “There’s food in them. I smelled it in the car.” 

“Good job, Watson,” he tells her.

“Uh, who?” Eliza gives her older brother a look that clearly relays she thinks he’s crazy. It doesn’t stop her from taking another handful of popcorn, though. 

“Watson. Sherlock Holmes’ assistant. They’re detectives, Lize.”

“Oh,” is all she says before shoving more popcorn into her mouth. 

You putter around, cleaning up the kitchen and tidying the living room to keep yourself from spilling the beans too early. It’s important to wait until Ryan gets home later. You just know time is going to crawl by at a snail’s pace for the next hour and a half.

When your oldest son finally arrives home, you usher everyone around the kitchen table for a family meeting. 

“Am I in trouble?” Luke huffs. “Because if I am, I’d like to plead not guilty.”

Eddie raises his brows. “Not sure why you’d be in trouble, but I’m sure we’ll find out.” He clears his throat, placing a loving hand on your bump. “No, this family meeting is to tell you guys some exciting news we got at the ultrasound today.”

He reaches over and plucks a grease-soaked Burger King bag from the counter. “Ry, you get the first clue.”

Ryan practically tears open the bag, the hungry teenager ready to devour the Double Whopper without even unwrapping it. 

“Is the baby a hamburger?” Ryan asks mid-bite. He pulls out the fries you got along with it. “Or is it small? Is the clue ‘small fry?’”

You shake your head. “Nope. Nice try, though.” 

Luke’s clue is next, though he’s too busy trying to get his brother to share his food to really pay attention. When Ryan finally relents and tosses a fry his way, Luke looks down at the Gameboy game box in front of him. 

“A Looney Tunes double pack?” He wrinkles his nose. “Are you naming the baby Tweety Bird?”

Eliza sticks out her little tongue in disgust. “That’s a horrible name for a baby!”

“Maybe it looks like Elmer Fudd, like Eliza did when she was born,” Ryan chimes in, licking ketchup off of his thumb. 

“Who?” Your daughter glances between the boys, unaware of the joke being made at her expense.

Luke doesn’t hesitate to fill her in. “The weird guy who hunts Bugs Bunny. The one who always goes, ‘ooh, I hate that wabbit!’”

Eliza shoots him a glare that’s equal parts adorable and terrifying. Luckily, she’s easily distracted by her clue. 

“For Eliza,” you say as you tug the crinkling Target bag off of the biggest hint of all. Eddie already made sure to open the box and cut any wires attached so your daughter can get right at the twin Baby Alive dolls. 

The four-year-old gasps. “Babies!” She holds her arms out as you deliver the box to her.

Little fingers grab onto the first doll, and she gently places it on the table in front to her before removing the second doll. The rest of the family watches in amusement as Eliza covers the baby on the table with a blanket, and cradles the other one in her arms, holding its bottle to its mouth. 

“So,” Eddie asks, rubbing his hands together, “what do these gifts have in common?”

The three of them begin to think. At least, you’re pretty sure Eliza is thinking about it. She’s gazing down at the doll in her arms with the most heartwarming compassion. 

“There’s two burger patties, two games, two dolls…” Luke muses.

“Wait,” Ryan says, his head perking up as an idea occurs to him. “Is it a girl? Like, two X chromosomes?”

Your husband simply stares at your oldest son for a moment before responding.

“In what world would I be smart enough to come up with that?” he asks. 

Luke nods his head in your direction. “Ma is, though. But I think it’s a boy because there’s two of us boys already.”

“Then the hint would have to do with three, genius,” Ryan scoffs. 

The younger brother contorts his face and mocks his brother’s words in a high-pitched voice.

“Maybe Mama has two babies in her belly.” Your daughter’s words are spoken with the most casual tone, the majority of her attention on the plastic doll she’s gently rocking to sleep in her arms. 

The boys both laugh, Ryan rolling his eyes at what he considers a silly idea from a little girl. The Munson brothers turn to you and Eddie, expecting you to be joining in on the laughter, but all they find are your excited and hopeful faces. The chuckles trail off as the boys pause and consider what those faces mean. 

“Wait, you don’t mean…” Ryan starts.

“Oh my GOD!” Luke shouts, banging his hands down on the table in front of him. It rattles the doll Eliza isn’t holding, and she gives her big brother a glare over the disturbance. 

“No way!” Ryan stands up, excitement nearly paralyzing him. He doesn’t know what to do except smile as he holds his arms out in front of him awkwardly. “It’s really…twins?!”

“It’s twins!” you confirm. You make an attempt to stand as well, but the two babies inside of you are keeping your center of gravity low enough to make you give up. 

“Two babies!” Luke hoots. “This is insane!”

Eddie chuckles, his heart at once light as air and completely full at seeing the excitement of his boys. 

“Do you have a picture?” Luke asks.

“The sonogram,” Ryan adds.

“Yeah! Can we see it? Let us see the picture!”

“Do you even know what you’ll be looking at?” Ryan asks as he sits back down next to his brother.

Luke shrugs. “They’ll show us.”

“Okay, okay, here it is,” you say, handing over the image that’s been sitting in your back pocket. “That little spot right there is one baby, and that one right there is the other baby.”

Their stunned faces make you giggle softly as you lean back. 

“Oh my God,” Ryan says. “I can’t believe it’s twins.”

“Holy sh—crap, we’re going to have two new siblings.”

“We’re going to need a bigger house,” Ryan says, looking around the room everyone is seated in.

“Wow, there’s going to be a lot of people living here,” Luke says. “Dad, were you going for twins?”

“That’s not how it works, doofus,” Ryan says as Eddie shakes his head in amusement. 

Luke scoffs. “Explain it to me then, Mr. SAT.”

Eliza heaves a deep sigh for someone with such a tiny body and small lungs. She sets the baby doll in her arms down on the table next to its sleeping sibling. 

“You’re so loud!” she complains. 

“Lize, it’s twin babies!” Luke tells her, gently shaking her frame back and forth. 

“I know, I know, you keep saying it over and over!”

“Aren’t you excited?” Ryan asks her. 

Your daughter shrugs her shoulders once before picking her doll back up and cradling it in the crook of her arm.

“Sure.” 

Both boys look to you and Eddie at her lackluster reaction. You give a gentle shake of your head.

“Don’t worry,” you tell them. “It’ll click at some point.” 

“Oh, what a day,” you sigh as you slip under the blankets to lay down next to your husband. Eddie lifts his arm, and you immediately cuddle up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Your bump nudges his side, and you rub one hand over the soft material of your worn t-shirt. “Makes sense why my bump is more pronounced earlier than it was with Eliza.”

Eddie wraps one arm around your shoulders and brings the other one down to place his hand on top of your own. 

“Can't believe there are four of us in this bed,” he says with a light chuckle.

“Daddyyyyy! Mamaaaaaa!”

A four-year-old with wild curls runs into your room and leaps onto the bed, landing at your and Eddie’s feet.

“Make that five of us,” Eddie says. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Little Miss,” you tell Eliza.

She pushes herself onto her hands and knees in her purple piggy pajamas and quickly crawls up the infinitesimal space between you and her father. 

“Careful, careful,” Eddie cautions the closer she gets to your belly.

Eliza halts her ascent and leans back on her heels. Her chocolate brown eyes are as wild as her bedhead is.

“I’m gonna be a big sister to two babies?!” 

Across the hall, a chuckle reverberates in Ryan’s chest as he turns to lay on his side in bed.

“There it is.”

[yawnderu]

cr: @ave661

You watch in amusement as Simon sits on the floor with your daughter, a pink handkerchief grasped on his large, calloused hands.

“I must say, Lady Elizabeth, this tea is scrumptious.” From a thick Manchester accent to a posh one, Simon does his best to impress his little princess, taking another sip from the tea she served him in a tiny plastic cup.

“Mm. Is the secret ingredient gold, my beloved Lady Beatrice?” He changes his name again, making the splitting image of him laugh as she nods her head, letting him adjust the tiara she's using before she goes back to serving him another cuppa.

“Well, sir Edwin, the secret ingredient is... a secret.” She tries her best to imitate a posh accent, even going as far as to change Simon's name to something fancier. He looks away, trying to hold in his laughter the moment his sweet daughter plays along.

“Ah, pardon me, Lady Ophelia. How daring of me to ask such a question.” He dabs the handkerchief on his lips a few times, using the opportunity to hide the smile on his lips the moment your crinkled eyes meet his.

“May I have some more tea, Ms. Cecilia?” He's unable to hide his smile the moment your daughter giggles, getting up only to try and put a matching tiara on his head, planting a small kiss on his forehead the same way you both do to her after putting her to bed every night.