#did I mention this is fluffy?

[floral-force]

Lay Me Down to Sleep

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader

summary: Insomnia plagues you during your first night on-base with Task Force 141. A little midnight stroll leads you to the imposing masked lieutenant you'd been warned about. Maybe a common struggle can lead to comfort...

words: 1.8k+

warnings/tags: just really soft stuff here (but my work/blog is always 18+ only), this one goes out to my fellow insomniacs, insomniac!simon "ghost" riley, pride and prejudice mention, all fluff, technically pre-slash, soap is a lil shit

a/n: hi, hello, I am back (sort of). I took a long hiatus bc of work/life stress but I cranked this out a while ago and finally feel confident enough to post it. thank you for reading and sticking with me <3

masterlist | read on ao3 | taglist

You stared up at the ceiling of your room, rubbing the heels of your palms into your tired eyes. Hours had passed since you’d gotten into bed to rest up before a briefing in the morning. Sleep still hadn’t found you yet. Maybe it was the time difference—you had flown into England from the States not even 12 hours ago—or maybe it was the stiff mattress. Or maybe it was the way you still thought of the masked lieutenant at Price’s side when you’d gotten off the heli. 

Whatever it was, you needed to get over it. You’d read online that sometimes leaving bed to do something other than try to sleep helps, so maybe it was the perfect time for you to check out that tiny little excuse for a kitchen the Scottish private—nicknamed Soap, he’d told you with a wink—had shown you earlier. With a sigh, you got up and wiggled out of your sleep shorts and into more modest sweatpants, anxiously pulling at the hem of your shirt as you stepped into your crocs and walked out of the door.

Your eyes finally adjusted to the bright fluorescent hallway light as you reached the kitchen, surprised to see a light on when you opened the heavy door with bated breath. You peeked inside and saw a broad man sitting at a table, absolutely dwarfing it with his size. 

“Can’t sleep, eh?” 

You jumped at the deep voice and nearly let the door slam, catching it right before impact and slowly closing it. “Uh, no.” You chuckled, walking behind him to the right side of the table.

You reached the chair, then stopped in your tracks when you lifted your gaze off the floor. 

It was him—the masked lieutenant. 

You could barely make out a quirked-up eyebrow under the shadow of his sweatshirt’s hood as he took a sip from the mug his large hand dwarfed, his fabric mask scrunched up over his nose. Your heart raced and you looked down at the seat of the crummy plastic chair in front of you. The kitchen was now the last place you wanted to be, but you were too tired to make up some shitty excuse to flee. 

So, you stood awkwardly in front of the chair, hands in your pockets, biting your lips.

“I’m—” you cleared your throat, “I’m guessing you can’t either, Lieutenant?”

“Never can these days,” he replied gruffly. 

There was the sound of another sip from his mug, a thump when it was lowered to the table, and then silence. It was heavy and awkward, and you were certain you’d never felt more embarrassed in front of a commanding officer before, even though you’d fainted in front of one during a basic training run.

There was a heavy sigh. “Christ, ‘m not gonna fuckin’ bite ya.”

“Soap told me you would,” you quipped back.

Soap had warned you about the masked man—Ghost, he’d called him—and told you not to bother him much. “That’s my job,” he’d laughed. 

Right now, you felt like you were definitely bothering him.

“Figures,” he grumbled. 

You finally looked back up at Ghost, meeting his brown-eyed gaze for the first time since you’d entered the room. He looked at you with curiosity, not malice; somehow, that made you feel a little better, even if it still made your heart race and your palms sweat. 

“I just—I can’t stop thinking,” you blurted out, finally responding to the question he’d asked when you’d opened the door with a solid answer beyond your meek “no.” 

“I get nightmares.”

It felt like a confession, and you pulled out the chair, cringing when it squeaked across the linoleum floor. You sat down to hear more, crossing your arms on the table and resting your chin on them. Ghost’s eyes tracked your movements, even as he took another leisurely sip from his mug. Now that you were closer, you could smell that its contents weren’t coffee, but tea, the herbal notes reaching your nose. 

Before you thought better of it, words rushed out of your mouth. “It’s stupid, but when my insomnia is really bad—like it is now—I call my best friend and ask them to read to me. I’d do it now, but they’re at work.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Gotta love the time difference.”

Ghost shook his head. “Tha’s not stupid at all.” He took a long drink from his mug and set it down. “Whatever works. I jus’ make myself a cuppa, then see what happens.”

“And what’s happening next?” you probed.

He nudged his thumb against the mug and tilted his head. “I think ‘m gonna try reading.”

“Y’all keep books in the kitchen?” you teased.

“Hell no,” Ghost scoffed. “Did’ya bring any wi’you?” he asked.

You pursed your lips and squinted as you thought. “I think I brought Pride and Prejudice with me. I told myself I’d start rereading it since the plane ride over here was the perfect opportunity…but I fell asleep.” You sat up and smiled at him. “Why do you ask?”

He shifted in his seat and his hood fell, revealing short hair and red-tinged ears. “Could I read a bit of it?”

You blinked, a bit stunned at his shy question. Ghost, a man with a taste for Jane Austen? Something about a man like him wanting to read a period romance novel lit a tiny fire in your chest.

“Um, sure.” You stood and took a few steps, pointing at the door. “I can go grab it—”

“No, no, I’ll go wi’you, save you the trip back, yeah?” He rushed to his feet, and you stopped in your tracks at his side, gulping at the way he towered over you. 

“If you say so, Lieutenant.”

“Ghost,” he nodded.

“Ghost,” you repeated with a soft smile, leading him to the door.

The walk to your room was silent except for your footsteps tapping on the floor; his boots and your crocs mixing into a twilight harmony. Ghost kept up behind you. Your cheeks burned at the thought of him seeing you in your ratty sweats and shirt and crocs—fucking crocs—as you finally reached your door. You fumbled with your keys, swearing under your breath.

You unlocked the door and hurried across the room to flick on the lamp at your bedside. Ghost closed the door, then loomed over you as you crouched down and rummaged through your backpack. You hummed in triumph when you finally pulled out the beat-up and well-loved book, turning and reaching up to hand it to him. You stood and sat on the edge of your bed, expecting him to leave. Instead, he pulled the chair from the desk across the bed over to your bedside, settling in as he read the back cover. You were suddenly aware of his musky, amber scent because of the short distance, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t feel inviting, much unlike the person it clung to.

“Making sure you like it?” you asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Do you like it, love?” Ghost’s eyes flitted up to meet yours.

The pet name and Ghost’s suddenly soft voice caught you off guard. You reminded yourself it wasn’t personal, that it was a common British thing, that he didn’t mean anything by it, that it was colloquial. It didn’t feel bad or gross—it felt like a warm hug, a gentle kiss on the forehead, a thumb softly stroking across your cheek. 

You swallowed and dug your nails into the mattress. “Yeah, yeah! I’ve—I’ve read it, like, twice now.” You silently cursed yourself for stumbling over your words.

He nodded. “Have you ever listened to someone read it?”

“No,” you answered hesitantly.

“Would you like to?”

You nearly choked on your breath. You couldn’t stop your eyes from widening and your lips from parting. Having Ghost read to you would be absolutely unreal—his voice was strangely soothing, washing over you with a gentleness you didn’t think he’d be capable of. And yet, here he sat, staring you down as his thumb stroked the front cover of one of your favorite books, his offer dangling in the air.

“You said being read to helps you fall asleep,” he continued. “You’re gonna need the sleep to handle Price’s brief, I promise you that, love.”

“I mean, yeah,” you replied. “But I don’t want you to think you have to or need to. I’m a big girl, I can force myself to fall asleep if you say Price is really that bad.”

Ghost shook his head. “Nah, I want to.” He reached for the lamp and jerked his head at you. “Get settled, love. You can still get a decent amount’a sleep in.”

“What will you do?” you asked as he dimmed the light.

“Me?” he shrugged as you lay down. “I’ll live.”

“Then I should stay up too.”

“No, sleep. That’s an order,” he said, the command stern yet playful and stoking the fire in your chest. You swore he winked at you, but it could’ve been a trick of the light. 

“Fine,” you huffed. You closed your eyes so you could focus on the silky tones of his voice.

“Now then,” he cleared his throat. “Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.”

You smirked. “Off to a great start already, Ghost.”

There was a low chuckle. You smiled, hoping he was looking at the page, but also secretly hoping he was looking at you. Maybe he was, but you could already feel your mind relaxing even though he’d only read the title. There was something in your gut telling you that Ghost was softer than he seemed. The imposing, threatening lieutenant was just a man that enjoyed tea and struggled with insomnia—and apparently, he was a bit of a softie underneath his vest and mask.

As he read, you began to let your mind drift off into dreamland, lulled by Ghost’s dulcet tones and the way he tried to engage with the text, varying his intonation and even chuckling at some of the dialogue and sentences. If he truly didn’t care, you couldn’t tell; he seemed to get more wrapped up in the book the more he read. 

“..but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, and noble mien, and—”

“Hm, like you,” you mumbled to your pillow, thinking of Ghost.

There was a pause, then he continued, sounding amused. He probably hadn’t heard you. He was probably just smirking at the next sentence about Darcy’s money, not your sleepy comment. You yawned, your eyes heavy and brain finally quiet enough for sleep to overtake you right as Darcy commented on Elizabeth’s appearance, Austen establishing their complicated and dramatic love-hate relationship.

Ghost wouldn’t tell you he’d blushed at your comment. That would be his sleepy secret.

masterlist | taglist

taglist: @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations @oliviagreenaway @johfaam0 @sofasoap @nickangel13

[simphornies]

Artistic desire [Husk x Shy!Reader] Fluff

A/N: This was a request sent by a lovely follower. I'm not particularly good at writing shy characters but I did my best. Hopefully this suits your taste.

Word count: 3.4k (3,481)

Warnings: none unless you count mentions of mommy and daddy issues

You were a bit of a social recluse. Your parents fucked off and died somewhere in one of the seven rings when you were a teenager and since everything is basically free, besides drugs and sex, you just stayed in your parents’ manor. The only person that really checked up on you everyday was Charlie. You crossed paths when you were younger, rode through the emo phase together and now you’re both older.

Before her hotel opened up, she was eager to tell you of all the plans. Every. Single. Plan. Of course, you didn’t mind the chatter through the phone. You enjoyed something that filled up the empty halls in your home. You helped her redesign a bit but after a while, you were in a pit of…the opposite of an art block?

You spent every waking moment, painting and creating art. If you thanked your demon parents for anything, it’d be the part where their powers passed onto you naturally. Your mother was a beautiful muse, perfection in keeping everything aesthetically pleasing. Your father painted his muse at every given moment. You didn’t necessarily hate them per-say but you sure as hell didn’t love them. The moment you kept something out of place, an inch off the center, your mother scrambled to fix it.

She didn’t yell or bother with correcting you, she would just obsess with the finer details. Your father never stepped up for anything other than painting. Hell forbid you switch up his paints and he’d be locked in his room all day. Finishing piece after piece.

You didn’t take after any of their obsessive traits. Instead you embraced the messy lines, the off-centered pieces. You embraced the imperfection and impurities that came with hell itself.

And that is exactly how you ended up in Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel. She convinced you to take your artistic abilities to brighten the place up. With the surprising help of Alastor, you chose compromise on the color palette. The fabrics, the decor, the lights, the curtains, the rugs. It was all your choosing. And when Alastor decided to phase in a bar with Husk included, the odd placement of green itched your brain in a good way.

The bar wasn’t the only thing that got you going. A surge of inspiration waved through your entire being the moment you saw him. The moment you heard his voice you wanted to capture it in art. There wasn’t a passing day where you didn’t sit at his bar, eagerly waiting for his next story.

At first, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with you considering how well you got along with Alastor. But that opinion quickly faded the more you hung around him. Every time he’d tell a story, he noticed you always doodling in delight, listening to every detail. You didn’t participate in conversations much but he could tell you were listening to the whole thing. Your legitimate interest in his stories warmed his heart a little bit more than he’d ever admit. He soon realized that you two were probably the most sane demons in the entirety of the hotel.

“The usual?” He asks. You nod and continue to fill your sketchbook with drawings, the act visible to him by the way your eyes shine. He poured three glasses for you both. One glass of whiskey for him, a glass of champagne for you, and one of your old paint cups with water. He handed you your drink in a champagne glass and your cup next to your sketchbook. Last time he handed that to you, you accidentally drank the paint water.

You quietly thank him as you gleefully kick your feet in the empty space under you. The chairs hoisted you up enough for you to not touch the floor when you sat, something he found admirable. He hummed as he cleans a couple of glasses left over from when Angel was drinking.

Oh how he wished to take a peek at your drawings. He would never try to ask, he learned from one of your small conversations together that you said it’s like a diary. And he’d be damned if he pried into that. The only time he’ll ever get any information from people is when they’re absolutely fucked up wasted. He watched as your face was unbelievably close to the book, the sound of your pencil against the paper was soothing to him. Oddly enough, it was never complete without it.

“Hey, Y/N? Could you do me a big big big favor? Pretty please?” Charlie speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. He sighs and starts to stock up his shelves knowing that you were probably going to get hoisted away now. He feels the weird shift in his chest that made him realize he was actually in love with you this whole time.

“Yes, Charlie?” You looked up at her as you put your pencil down. “What can I do to help?” Your voice was smooth jazz to his ears. He wanted to hear you speak more. And he hated when other demons talked to him. But your voice. He’d fight in a war with the exorcists to hear you speak to him more. He secretly wished you said his name instead.

She gives you a guilty grin, “So, I was trying to make a sign for Sir Pentious and well…”

“It looks a little bit like vomit!” Nifty chimed in, unashamed.

Charlie laughed nervously, “I may have chosen the wrong green…Would you mind, helping me out?”

You smile, “Of course.” You get up, following Charlie and Vaggie to the opposite side of the lobby to give aid in their color struggles.

Nifty continued her cleaning and while she did, she realized that you had left your sketchbook wide open. Of course, as it is in Nifty’s nature, she snatches the book off of the bar’s countertop, just out of Husk’s view and takes a look at the page it was open to. She gasps and runs over to Angel and Alastor, eager to show her finds.

“My my. What a wonderful find you’ve got there, Nifty.” Alastor grins. He was not much of a lover but he sure as hell enjoyed seeing his little pet get flustered. And perhaps he’s been more tolerant lately so he figured he can have a bit of happiness in this hotel.

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Angel stares at the sketches you have of Husk. The two pages were filled with him and just him. Him cleaning the glasses, him fixing his hate, him with his wings out. Some were obvious direct sketches from his day-to-day life but the others were all from your mind. There was one of him in a fancy suit. One with his hair slicked back the way he briefly mentioned it during his stories of being an overlord. Angel stares at the page a bit longer before looking over at Alastor who shared his mischievous grin.

While you were painting the sign with Vaggie, Charlie is pulled to the side by Alastor. “Charlie, my dear. You would say that you are a lover girl at heart, would you not?” He asks.

“Uhm. Yes. Yes I am, Alastor.” She answers with confusion in her voice, “Why?”

“Why, Nifty had some groundbreaking finds just a moment ago that I believe I should be sharing with you.” He smiles widely as Angel hands her the open sketchbook.

“Somebody,” he whispers, “Got a little thing for Whiskers~”

Charlie takes one long look at the page and was about to start squealing in delight until Alastor puts a finger up to her lips. “Ah ah, my dear. Now’s not the time for that. Wouldn’t it be best that you talk about this with her in private.” He suggested.

“You’re right! Ohhhh my gosh! This is amazing!” She grins, “I’ve known her in all my years here in hell and I have not seen her take a liking to anybody. I’ll definitely talk about it with her!”

-----------------

The sign for Sir Pentious was up in congratulations for his arrival and his development. Everyone was cheering him on by the bar. You scout around for your sketchbook, swearing you left it by Husk. He wouldn’t be the type of guy to take personal things like that.

Just as you were about to ask him where it was, Charlie quickly drags you into a spare room, filled with excitement. Excitement that drove you a bit nervous.

“Charlie? Is there anything you need me to do here?” You ask, scanning the empty room around you.

She simply could not contain her excitement. “It’s come to my attention that you, my lovely lovely friend, may have a teeny tiny crush on someone.”

Oh fuck.

“Haaaa. What?” You ask, trying to contain your composure. “I don’t like anybody. That’s funny. Hah hahhh…” You nervously laughed.

Just then, Charlie hands you your sketchbook. “Nifty found it and well…you left it open to your most recent sketches…of Husk!” She squeals.

Your face turns a bright red as you swiped the sketchbook out of her hands. “Charlie! Oh fuck, please don’t tell me you told him.” You were every shade of red possible in hell out of sheer embarrassment.

“Of course not! I wouldn’t take that adorable opportunity away from you and him!” She hugs her shorter friend, “So. Tell me all about it! When did it start? When did you know?” She gasps in excitement as she thought of more questions to bombard you with, “Why? How did you find out? What do you like most about him?”

“W-well I…” You stutter, hugging your sketchbook close, “I’m not sure when but I just know that, these last couple of weeks he’s been…um…you know. Kind of inspiration? My…muse. If you will.”

Charlie loved your answers and continued to ask more questions. “So when are you going to tell him?” She gasps, “Oh my gosh—You guys should totally go on a date!”

“A DATE?” You choke, “Fucking hell—Charlie. I cannot bring myself to do that. You’re the only person I can talk to without stuttering too much and you want me to go on a date with the very demon I like?”

The answer was yes and before you know it, you and Husk are getting pushed out of the hotel with a pile of cash in both of your guys’ hands, courtesy of Charlie. She somehow got you both into matching outfits. A dress with hearts on the collar with a white and red pearly necklace to match. Husk was somehow, probably by Alastor, shoved into his overlord suit and tie.

“You motherfuckers better not fuck up my bar! I worked all day to keep shit organized!” He yelled at the closed door, “I’m talking about you, Angel Dust!” He scoffed and fixed his sleeves.

You couldn’t bear to look dead at him. You safely got peeks from your peripheral. On one of your attempts, the two of you made eye contact for a brief second. You immediately looked away, muttering an apology under your breath.

“Are you gonna stand there staring at nothing or are we going?” He elbowed you gently.

“Oh! U-Uh. I’m not quite sure…where we have to go.” You admitted.

He rolls his eyes, “Thrown into battle blind, huh?” He chuckled before moving in front of you, “Take my hand. Can’t have other demons fucking with our artist.”

You look at him, memorizing the way his grin sat on his face. A light blush forms across your cheeks as you take his hand. He walks with you down the city and into the nearest fancy club in your area.

“Ah. I think this is gonna be a little…”

“You scared?” He grins, “You’ll be fine. You’re with me. I’ll fuck shit up if I need to.” He flashed you his playing cards, edges as sharp as can be.

You sigh and nod, walking in with him. He sat you down at a quieter side, as quiet as a famous club can be. You both share a bottle of whiskey, your sudden interest shocking him.

“You know, that art thing you do is mesmerizing.” Why did he have to bring that up now? You internally groaned. “It’s like magic whenever you put whatever’s in that brain on paper.” He stirs his drink with a claw, looking at you. You swear you see a bit of sparkle in his usual dull eyes.

“Th-thanks, Husk.” You stutter. The way his name came out of you warmed him up more than his drink. He wanted you to say it again so badly. "I’ve seen you do magic too y’know.” As much as he paid attention to your work, so did you. You have endless sketches of him playing with cards, fucking around with Angel’s hand with a smooth move so quick one could barely catch it without attentive eyes.

“Ohhh,” He leans in a bit, a teasing grin plastered on his face, “So you watch me that close, huh?”

You choke on your drink, spitting a bit out, “Wh-what! No.”

He chuckles a bit, leaning back, “Cut the act, Y/N.” He closed his eyes, putting his glass up to his lips, “Alastor told me already. And Nifty. And Angel. And Charlie, you know she can’t keep a secret well.”

You were a mess. They told him and they didn’t tell you that they told him? You’re definitely messing with their rooms later. But how much did they tell him? You can’t pinpoint it. “I-” You coughed, trying to clear up your throat from your near death experience via literal drowning in alcohol. “I can’t help that you’re just…nice to draw.”

You turn away, a bit ashamed and definitely flustered. He was quiet, watching you intently as he sipped on his drink. “I like drawing anything I like.”

Now it was his turn to choke a bit but you didn’t catch it. He wiped his mouth, “So you like me then, right?”

You turn to face him not expecting his face to be so close to yours. A little shift and you two would fall into a kiss. You weren’t able to read his face well. He had a blank expression. You stare at him, face red.

“It’s okay, fucker. You know how it is,” He elbows you, laughing a bit before grabbing your hand to drag you out of the club. “I’m the bartender that knows everything about everybody.”

He rarely used his wings, unwilling to accept his demon form. But tonight, he stretched his wings out. “What’re you-”

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” He looks at you over his shoulder, holding your hand a little tighter. You nod in response.

Without a second thought, he pulled you close to him, hugging you to his chest. You blinked and you were off the ground, soaring through the air. He held you close, careful to not let you fall.

“I want you to see something. Something I doubt anyone’s ever shown you.” He keeps his head up, unaware of how starstruck you’re looking at him. You were also too scared to look anywhere else.

He flies as high as he can, stopping at a certain point before holding you in his arms in a bridal style way. “Look around, Y/N. Take it all in.” He speaks softly. You look around and from where you guys are, you can see the entire Pentagram City. Your eyes are filled with a breathtaking view of the city you grew up in. He smiles at the sight of your interest, “As much as I fucking hate this place. It’s not bad when you can’t hear the chaos going on down there from up here.”

“It’s beautiful. I…I have to paint this.” You state, wishing you had your book with you. You rest your head on his chest. After a while you feel him fly towards a high point at the edge of the city, landing on a mountain. He doesn’t let you down as soon he lands though, he didn’t want to ruin your adoring looks at the view.

Your face is lit up with admiration, you feel at peace. It was quiet but a soothing kind of quiet. Your ears caught onto a different sound while you rested on his chest. Is he purring?

You look up at him, “Thanks for the ride, Husk.” Smiling warmly, you cupped his face in your hand. You swear you felt him lean into it. He puts you down gently before putting his hand over yours, returning your warm smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He purrs softly, the vibrations reverberating on your hand. He nods. “Is it okay I…pet you a bit. You’re just so fluffy.” He went from looking at you with his eyes half shut to wide open, in disbelief. “I-It’s for my art! My drawings.” You laugh nervously, “You know…reference…” It was half a lie, which he is aware of, you actually do want to capture his soft looking fur in your drawings but wanted to know exactly how dense or fluffy it is.

He laughs, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground with you following after him, “You’re lucky I like you, Y/N. Go for it.”

He hated when people treated him like a cat but for you, he’d make an exception. He’d make multiple exceptions for you. You begin to stroke the top of his head, making sure you remember how it feels in your palms in case you never get the chance to do this again. His purring grew louder as he leaned into your touch.

You began to pet his cheeks, getting a closer look at his face, taking in every detail. From his heart shaped nose, to the way his eyebrows fluffed out of his face. He slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you. You were too mesmerized by how unbearably handsome he is to see him inching closer.

He grabs your hand on his cheek, “I could kiss you right now.” He could what? Before you got a chance to react he pulled you into him, his lips crashing on yours. You yelp before giving in and melting into him. The kiss didn’t last too long but it felt like hours.

You stared at him as longingly as you did dumbfounded. “Look, babe, I notice everything about you. Everything you do.” He holds your head in his hands. “I see the way you light up when Charlie brings you paintings. How you paint with that focused look. You’re one of, if not, the only demon with sense in that hotel and respect my boundaries. You’ve never pushed my buttons once. And I truly, truly appreciate it.”

You lean into his hold, holding his face in return, “I understand you a lot more than you think, Husk. I know it’s silly but I find comfort in you. I love the way your voice sounds. I love watching your magic tricks. I love the way you effortlessly make a drink without even looking. And I love the way you fight. You fill me with so much artistic desire and you get me out of the toughest art blocks out there.”

“And you help me stay calm when everybody gets on my nerves. I’ll take a fight on for you any day, babe.” He rests his forehead on yours, “Who would’ve thought my cold little heart could be warmed up in hell of all places, huh?”

He shifts and rests his head on your lap as you continue to pet him, humming softly as you did.

"And who would've thought I'd be able to get the grumpy bartender to purr in my lap?"

You two enjoyed the rest of your night together. He actually stole a bottle for you two and you both drank the night away.

.

.

.

“You think Y/N’s ruffling his feathers? If you know what I mean.” Angel laughs followed by a quick slap on the back by Vaggie. “Ow! It was just a joke. God, tits.”

“Oh I believe Husk is having a wonderful night.” Alastor grins, aware of what the soul he owns has done, “And might I say, he is quite the charmer. Truly a hidden gem. Under all that gruff he is but a little kitten.” He hummed, teleporting away into his tower.

Charlie was so excited and had set up a congratulations sign on the wall for when you two return. She was happy her dear friend finally found comfort in somebody.

[laughroditee]

You're Coming With Me | A COD fanfic

Simon had been on his way to meet up with the rest of the task force when he heard a tiny mewling off to the left near the woods.  Scanning the tall grass, he paused mid-stroll, his dark eyes falling upon a tiny orange kitten emerging from the underbrush.

“Meow!”

“Where’s your mum?” Simon asked, keeping his eyes and ears open for any signs of other kittens or a mother cat. Unfortunately, there were none.  This cat was probably around three to four weeks old; it was not going to survive on its own.  Bloody hell, he thought, squatting down to seem less threatening, holding out a hand, palm down. 

The kitten slowly approached him, noisily chirping and mewling. With its hackles raised, the kitten’s back slowly arched in a ferocious display, snaking sideways toward him in an effort to scare him away. 

Simon barked out a laugh. “Spitfire, huh?  Come on then, do your worst.”

An airy hiss and a swat were the kitten’s best efforts.

Beneath his balaclava, Simon smiled.  A few raindrops falling from the sky decided for him.  “Can’t stay out here, love.  You’re coming with me.” He looked down at himself.  Where the fuck was he going to put a kitten?  The kangaroo pocket on his hoodie might scare the poor thing, and it’s not like it would fit into his pants pocket.  Pulling his arms in through the sleeves, he turned his sweatshirt around to put the hood in front.  As gently as he could, he picked the orange tabby up, his large hand swallowing it whole, its tiny legs poking out from between his fingers.

He was met with Hell’s fury and a stern letter to the manager as he nestled the tiny thing into the soft basket of his hood.

“Easy, love.  You’re alright.  Let’s get you home.”

Simon cradled the kitten in his hood the rest of the way, his feet striding faster as the rain got heavier.

The pub wasn’t too busy this time of day, so it was easy to spot his teammates.

Price was the first to greet him.  A simple head nod and glass lift always did the job while a chorus of “Ghost!” and “L.T.!” rang out simultaneously from Gaz and Soap.

“Yer late, L.T.”

“Sorry, Johnny, I was bringin’ a friend.”  He carefully moved his hand away from the hood, and the kitten’s head popped out of it to much “oooing” and “aaahing.”

“And who is this?” Price, ever the gentleman, asked for introductions right away.

“I’m callin’ her ‘Honey*,’” Simon said as the kitten in question climbed onto his shoulder, meowing insistently at him.

“Aww, Ghost, that’s a sweet name–” said Gaz.

"Named her after my gun."

There was a pause and the sound of resigned acceptance.  "Of course you did."

“How do you know it's a girl?" Soap asked, examining Honey and trying to pet her.

"She ain't got balls."  Simon picked Honey up and turned her butt to Soap’s face.

Gaz sniggered into his drink while Price just smiled in his amused fatherly way. "Good work, Simon.  Good work."

Author's note: *Honey, as in the Honey Badger gun, or the Chimera as it’s renamed in the Modern Warfare II and III games.

[pinkd3mon]

I just wanted an excuse to draw my Galacta with a cape propaganda

[fluffyfangirl]

Byler Moodboard (including some shiny dice)

[ceask]

My cat always scratches at doors at random times in the night. Usually around 2, 4, and 6am. That's because this little bitch doesn't have a regular sleeping pattern and takes power naps, and gets a little concerned when she wakes up at night and everyone else is just. Not there??? We're not walking around, we're not talking, we're in our rooms alone and we're sleeping??? My cat cannot comprehend it.

And you know who else takes power naps instead of sleeping at night? You know who I snatched that headcanon from? (Pretty sure it was Dark)

Dust.

Dust literally saves everyone from Killer's cats scratching at doors and waking them up in the middle of the night. His sleeping patterns coincidentally matched up with the cats. So when a cat is wandering around, it would usually just scratch into Dust's room and calm down. Bonus if Dust and Killer actually share a room, and when they go to sleep all the cats are with Killer and when they wake up they're all with Dust. (Upsets Killer to no end.)

Okay, from here cw/tw? for schizophrenia and a semi-detailed hallucination episode

With my headcanon that Dust has schizophrenia, this would be an absolute nightmare for him.

A symptom of schizophrenia is hearing voices and sounds that aren't there. His main hallucination would be Phantom, and I've read that the voices schizophrenic people hear are usually far away. Like they are literally in the walls/srs.

Now imagine Dust hallucinating Phantom, while also hearing cats scratch at his door. Do you know how badly it would fuck with him. He would hear a voice from the wall, and assume that someone is trying to crawl into his room and scratch open the walls. So he just sits on his bed and hyperventilates. Bonus if the episode would involve physical hallucinations, with hands roaming on his face, head, shoulders, neck. And then with the sound of the scratching his brain would automatically make him feel nails scraping at his arms and legs.

[lunainlove]

I feel like I have read all the good fanfics on ao3 for ghostsoap 😭😭 in times like this I hate being so picky with what I read and all the other fanfics that catch my attention are not finished and I refuse to read until they are done because I’m not patient at all so I’m left with nothing 😭😭😭 and finding good fics is so difficult on ao3 like I usually get what I read from recommendations, snooping into my fav authors bookmarks and pure luck

Anyway if someone has good fanfics please lmk I’m open to anything but recently I’ve been craving some mission focused fic or something like that with found family (I’m a sucker for gaz price ghost soap laswell ale and rudy together) and a happy ending because the I absolutely adore angst as long as there’s a happy ending 😭😭😭😭

[starlightvld]

My Love is Like an Apple Pie

Sheith • 7/7 chapters • 27k Words • COMPLETE

Shiro's got his dream job as a professor at Garrison University, great friends, and a house all to himself. Keith has a good job, a stable home life with people who care about him, and only one more semester until graduation. Both of them are happy on their own, but falling in love might just make things even better.

[peacockrulz]

I heard 'suit' and 'crying' and I knew what I had to do (plus a extra kinda shitty comic haha)

[jessamine-rose]

*squeezes aine this time*

Read my Yandere! Dottore fics first (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

Chemistry ๑ Magnum Opus

So @ainescribe decided to surprise me with more Darling fan art, this time of Dottore’s Assistant!! *sobs* I love it so much ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Once again, feedback will be in the tags. Thank you so much for enjoying my writing, Aine <3

[itwoodbeprefect]

the whiplash of watching the four main characters of a show leave a guy strung up in a way that means they are accidentally (but very directly) responsible for his rather gruesome death when he somewhat inevitably stumbles and dies, only to then immediately have one of those main characters get into her Suzuki Swift! (tm, c, r, click here to buy now) and show us several well-placed yet entirely unnecessary close-ups of the many great & useful features of this vehicle which she totally loves and is very happy with (comfortable and safe, even after a bout of manslaughter!!!).... never change, thai dramas

[jamiesfootball]

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

You get a long snippet (act surprised):

Roy flipped to a page at random:

'Ah, la belle dame sans merci who lived in his heart, made known to him in transitory fading splendor by dark eyes in the Ritz-Carlton, by a shadowy glance from a passing carriage in the Bois de Boulogne!'

The book Ted had given Roy had started with, ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’

“Oi!” Jamie started, sitting up to give Roy a concerned frown. “This one isn’t the first in the series.”

Roy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They’re all supposed to be self-contained stories. Don’t think I’ve ever met a person who read Wodehouse in order.”

Mollified, Jamie settled back into the cushions with Roy’s book, seemingly unaware of the puzzle Roy was rotating in his head.

Within the first few pages, he had a good idea what Ted intended by giving Jamie this particular book. He also couldn’t help but notice that he’d been given a book fit for his six-year-old niece, and Sam had been given Ender’s Game, and somehow Jamie had been the unlucky bastard with a reading assignment that would make any university student want to stick pencils in their eyes.

Also Anthony Patch was a posh rich twat.

[skydreamplayzz]

(@susartwork ) wanted to draw basic but idk If you can regonize him from the shadow and blue stuff. =w="

[arom-antix]

I don't think y'all understand just how ROBBED we got in the break up scene. Viktor is towel drying his hair, WE COULD'VE GOTTEN THIS

[hrts4lisa]

when she's into history, has the best music taste, is a reader, knows everything about greek mythology, is protective about her loved ones, she's brave, smart and she's that pretty AND

[ejzah]

A/N: This is the third story I’ve written, showing a possible future for Kensi and Deeks. I dedicate this story to all my Tumblr friends, everyone who has supported my writing over the years, and for all Kensi, Deeks, and Densi loving fans.

I will continue to write fanfic for this fandom after the finale as I have many WIPs and more stories I’d like to tell, but this one is to honor the characters I’ve come to cherish and give them the best send off I can think of.

***

We Couldn’t Be Happier

“Oh my god, baby,” Kensi gasped, clutching Deeks’ head against her, fingers anchored in his hair as he gently sucked the soft spot beneath her jaw. He increased the pressure suddenly and Kensi rocked forward, squeezing her legs tightly around his hips at the same time as he thrust upward.

She made a high-pitched noise in response, little tremors starting in her stomach. Deeks grinned into her neck, his own breath ragged, skin slick as he moved in rhythm with her.

“Kensi, look at me,” he said, tipping her chin up to meet his so they were pressed forehead to forehead. Her lips brushed against his with every breath, her hardened nipples pressed against his chest, and as they stared into one another’s eyes, Kensi’s breath caught, her entire body quivering, and clenching around Deeks. He gasped with her, hips thrusting a few more times before he joined her.

Kensi collapsed into Deeks, waves of pleasure still rolling through her. She blindly searched for Deeks’ hands, a little lightheaded, and twined their fingers together. Deeks’ other hand settled on the base of her spine.

“Wow,” Kensi whispered hoarsely, laughing breathlessly as she dropped her head onto Deeks’ damp shoulder.

“Yeah. Not sure I can move.”

“Then I think we did it right.” She gave his collar bone a clumsy kiss. Moving carefully, Deeks laid down, somehow still keeping Kensi cradled to his chest.

“I’m starving,” Kensi said few minutes later.

“Well, somebody was pretty eager to get to the festivities,” Deeks teased.

“Um, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Oh no, zero complaints. But I did plan on sushi before you derailed our plans with the extremely enticing words, “I need my sex machine”.”

Kensi groaned, having absolutely no defense, and they both knew it. She let her forehead fall onto his shoulder again with a light thump.

“Look, you know how I feel about those pants on you. It’s like you were teasing me all day,” she defended herself.

“And based on the number of times you explored the contents of said pants today, you didn’t seem to mind. But that’s ok, I can wear my cargo pants tomorrow.”

Kensi lifted her head off his shoulder, mildly alarmed by the suggestion. “Don’t you dare.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”

Grinning, Deeks rolled Kensi onto her back, sliding his palms up her sides. Kensi pulled his head down to her mouth, just as her stomach growled loudly.

“Right, food,” he said, sitting up with a sigh. “I guess we better get dressed.”

“Or…” Kensi walked her fingers up his chest. “You could DoorDash,” she suggested innocently.

“I like the way you think Mrs. Deeks. Maki rolls and miso to go,” Deeks said, leaning over to grab his phone.

“Best husband ever. Ooh, and don’t forget the spring rolls and seaweed salad!”

He put in their order, tossed his phone to the side, and rolled back to face Kensi. “It’s going to be about 45 minutes.”

“I think I know the perfect thing to pass the time,” Kensi said, welcoming him back into her arms.

***

9 Weeks Later

Kensi submitted her after case report, closing her laptop with a sigh of relief. Five o’clock could not come soon enough. Usually, she didn’t start feeling the drag of early mornings and long days until mid-week, but today she’d woken up exhausted.

“Hey, I was thinking I could get sushi tonight,” Deeks said, leaning over Kensi’s desk. The word sushi had taken on a knew connotation for them recently, and Kensi felt a hint of desire even though she was sure Deeks hadn’t intended it that way.

“Oh baby, I’d love to, but I’m so tired. I just want to go home and sleep,” she said, yawning at the mention of sleep. She thought about chugging the rest of her coffee, but the idea turned her stomach.

“Still?” Deeks’ playfulness turned to concern as he reached out to cup her cheek, brows furrowing. “You’ve felt off for the last two weeks. Maybe you should go to the minute clinic and get checked out.”

Kensi groaned, not wanting to put in the effort or time required for any kind of medical visit. Yet, she also knew Deeks was right, and he wouldn’t relax until she did.

“Ok, I’ll go tomorrow morning. You can break the news to Kilbride.”

“Gee, thanks.” He made a face, dropping a kiss on her temple. “Alright, I’ll make you some nice soothing chicken soup.

“Mm, with chipotle sauce. And dumplings,” Kensi added, eliciting another face from Deeks.

“With a side of tums.”

“Ooh, or a frittata with extra cheese, broccoli, and paprika.”

“Not exactly what I’d call comforting, but whatever my Ladybird desires,” Deeks agreed, tugging her into his side.

***

Kensi woke up the next morning to an empty bed and the sun shining through the curtains. Rolling onto her side, she found a folded piece of note paper on Deeks’ pillow. She opened it, smiling at Deeks’ familiar handwriting.

“Kensalina, my moon and my stars,

Breakfast is in the toaster, Rosa’s at school, don’t forget your appointment is at 9.

Love,

Your charming and adorable husband.

P.S. Kilbride says get better fast or else.”

Kensi rolled back onto her pillow, rubbing her hands over her face. By the time she and Deeks got home last night, she’d been so tired she’d fallen asleep before dinner. Thank god Deeks had been shouldering all the slack, because she’d really been dragging the last couple of weeks.

She pushed up on her elbows, wincing when her stomach cramped unpleasantly. Great, just what she needed on top of a virus. Dragging herself into the bathroom, she opened the small cabinet under the sink, grabbing a box of tampons.

Last month she’d luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, missed her cycle altogether. As the thought ran through her head, Kensi’s eye landed on a smaller box of pregnancy tests tucked almost in the corner. She froze, a dozen little details clicking into place all at once.

“Don’t be crazy, Kensi,” she muttered to herself, even as her recent exhaustion, unusual food preferences, and random bouts of queasiness made sense.

Shoving the box to the back of the cabinet, Kensi stood and jerkily yanked off her clothes, heading for the shower. She’d been here before; every time she’d convinced herself that she was finally pregnant, the tests were negative. She wasn’t going to put herself, or Deeks, through that turmoil again.

Her shower was far less enjoyable than she’d anticipated. Her thoughts kept circling, a constant debate between what she wanted and what a half dozen doctors had confirmed would require wishing on a star, magic beans, and an act of God. She could not get pregnant. That was simply a fact and no amount of stress or mild viruses could change that.

She climbed out of the shower, eyes drawn to the bathroom cabinet again despite her best efforts. Muttering at herself, Kensi hurried into the bedroom, pulling out clothes and tossing them on the bed. She dressed mechanically, putting her t-shirt on without thinking and giving a perfunctory glance in the mirror.

After that, she headed into the kitchen and filled a tumbler with coffee from the fresh pot Deeks had left warming, adding some cream. The breakfast Deeks had promised consisted of eggs, bacon, and toast, but she couldn’t even think of eating right now. She scooped it all into a Pyrex container, more for the distraction than because she planned to eat it later, and then wiped down the counters—which were already fairly spotless thanks to Deeks’ cleaning obsession.

That left her with a whole half hour before she needed to leave for her appointment. It wasn’t enough time for a workout and she didn’t really feel like it anyway. So, she headed back into the living room, straightening the already neat throw pillows (damn, why did Deeks have to be such a wonderful neat freak?), gathered a few of Rosa’s abandoned school supplies into a pile, and reorganized their dishes into an arrangement that was neither particularly useful or aesthetically pleasing.

���Damn it,” she sighed again when she checked her watch and only ten minutes had passed.

This was ridiculous. She might as well confirm what she already knew so she could stop obsessing over it. Stalking back to the bathroom, Kensi grabbed the box of pregnancy tests, setting them on the counter with a smack, and tore open one of the little foil packets.

A few minutes later, she sat on the closed toilet, foot tapping relentlessly on a tile, eyes glued to the strip carefully placed on a piece of paper towel while she waited for her phone alarm to countdown from ten minutes. She’d forgotten how absolutely anxiety-inducing the entire process was.

What was she thinking? It was beyond stupid to put herself through this again. Thank god Deeks had already left. She couldn’t imagine getting his hopes up again. Or worse, seeing his lack of hope.

Watching his optimism slowly disappear with each successive negative test, each fertility appointment with sympathetic doctors, and more aggressive treatment, had been almost more agonizing than her own pain.

The sharp chime of her alarm startled her out of her musings, and she jerked, fumbling a little as she rushed to silence the noise even though no one else was around to hear it.

Shifting forward, she picked up the strip, then froze. Kensi stared at two fully red lines, vibrant stripes of color on white, not quite processing them. She ran her fingers over the spot, as if the evidence might be a figment of her imagination. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh.”

Then she dumped out the rest of the box, grabbing two more strips. Another ten minutes later, she held them both in shaking hands, staring down at the pair of equally vivid red lines.

Pressing her free hand over her mouth, she sank to the floor, back against the wall, tears of joy and shock leaking down her cheeks.

Laughing a little hysterically, Kensi grabbed her phone, and found the number to the minute clinic.

“Hi, I need to cancel my appointment.”

***

Kensi was positively giddy as she led Deeks into the house, a sleep mask obscuring his vision. All she’d told him was that he couldn’t come home from his surfing group until 5. When he arrived, she greeted him at the door with the aforementioned sleep mask and a mysterious smile while she blocked his view to inside the house.”

Despite his curiosity, Deeks didn’t object, letting Kensi lead him by the hand.

“This is certainly an intriguing addition to date night. I didn’t realize we were going kinky. I would have worn my leather pants,” he drawled, grinning down in Kensi’s general direction.

“I can’t promise kinky, but I do think you’ll be surprised,” Kensi commented, still sounding unreasonably upbeat. She leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “And you know I become unhinged when you wear those pants.” Then she slipped the mask off with a flourish.

Deeks blinked a couple times, the room darker than he’d expected. All the curtains had been drawn, giving the illusion of late evening. The furniture had been moved from the living room, their dining table and chairs now placed in the center of the room, and topped with the best dishes they owned and tapered candles which created a warm glow.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he turned back towards Kensi. “You did all this?”

Kensi shrugged, seeming pleased by his reaction. “I may or may not have had a little help. I think homemade gnocchi is a little outside my current cooking skill set. Sorry.”

“No, this is amazing, baby,” Deeks said, drawing her in for a hug. “I’m just curious about the occasion.”

“What, I can’t spoil my husband?” Kensi teased. She brushed a curl put of his eye, looking up at him fondly, and something else he couldn’t quite read. “Here, come sit down.” She pulled out one of the chairs at the table, retrieving something from next to her place setting while he sat.

Kneeling in front of Deeks, Kensi held out a narrow box and an envelope.

“Ok, now I’m confused and a little concerned. Are you firing me?” Deeks joked, truly nervous, though he couldn’t say exactly why.

“No.” Kensi shook her head. “Open them.” She nudged the box towards his right hand and he took it hesitantly. He lifted the lid, revealing a cushion of blue tissue paper inside. Shifting it to the side, he frowned at the contents, then inhaled slightly, fingers stuttering over two strips.

“Kensi, is this—these look like pregnancy tests.” His voice broke on the last word and he had to clear his throat. He looked up, unable to conceal his confusion, hope, and disbelief.

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” she confirmed, laughing wetly as Deeks shook his head slowly, silent in his shock. “Baby?”

He didn’t say anything, just pulled Kensi into his arms and held her as tightly as he could, moisture filling his eyes.She wrapped her arms around his back, holding him just as fiercely. Turning his head, he captured her mouth in a desperate kiss.

“I can’t believe this,” he finally managed.

“I couldn’t either, but I’ve got about a dozen of these things that say otherwise.” Kensi held up one of the tests, with its two red stripes.

God, he remembered the hundreds of times when they’d prayed and begged for a positive test, only for it be negative.

Deeks closed his hand around Kensi’s, tucking it close to his chest. She cupped his cheek with her other hand, that same delight, tinged with disbelief, in her eyes.

“How?” was all he managed.

“I mean, I think it was probably a product of date night number two.” She winked suggestively. “Um, but the other day when I was supposed to go to the doctor, I found the tests, and I decided to take one. I thought I was being completely ridiculous, but once I thought about it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. And then when the first one was positive, I had to take about five more. Every single one was positive.”

“You told me you got a clean pass at the doctor,” Deeks said, too elated to be upset by the mild deceit.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you right away, but I had a few things I needed to do first,” Kensi apologized.

“Like planning an extravagant dinner?”

“That and, this.” Kensi nudged him gently, offering the envelope again. “You should probably open it too.”

Wiping at his eyes, he slit the envelope open, removing a single sheet of paper. He squinted at the small font.

“Dear Admiral Kilbride,

Please accept this letter as my official—”

Deeks broke off again, looking up with even wider eyes than before.

“Kens, this sounds like a resignation letter,” he whispered hoarsely.

“It is.” She laughed again, this time the sound full of joy. “I’m ready.”

“You’re sure? This is a huge decision. And with the—the baby. God, I can’t believe I just said that out loud. It’s a lot of changes.”

“I am,” Kensi said, and for once she didn’t hesitate in the least or sound discontent. She cupped his cheeks, eyes soft again. “This has been coming for a really long time. This,” she pressed her hand over her stomach. “was the final push I needed.” She kissed him lightly. “I have everything I want and need.” Pausing for a second, she brushed her thumb across his chin, nail gently scratching the short hairs there.

“What do you think?”

“I think…that this is amazing, and unbelievable, and yes, yes, let’s do this. Let’s resign and have a baby and all the amazing, terrifying, beautiful things that come with it,” he rambled in his giddiness. They kissed again, Kensi clinging to his neck.

“I’m so happy,” she whispered in his ear.

***

“Hey, are you ok? You’re looking a little…grayish,” Deeks said, watching as Kensi paced from one side of the living room to the other.

“I’m fine.” She did another lap. “No, I’m not.” Tossing her head back, she groaned, rolling her shoulders. “I feel so bad about telling Rosa.”

Coming up behind her, Deeks gently guided her back against his chest, and started kneading the base of her spine.

“Baby, it is going to be alright. Rosa is an amazing young woman. She’s not going to be angry.

“Yeah, I know she’s great at rolling with the punches, but this is different,” Kensi stressed. “She didn’t sign up for a newborn sibling waking her up in the middle of the night or hourly diaper changes. What if it’s too much? You know she’s not the type of kid to scream and shout and make a big scene. I’m afraid she’ll try to hide how she feels.”

“Then we’ll make sure Rosa knows that while a lot of things are changing, how much we love her isn’t,” Deeks told Kensi, reiterating the conversation they’d had multiple times in the last three days. “We’ll check in with her too to make sure nothing’s changed. Make sure to spend extra time with her when we can.”

This certainly wasn’t a concern they’d ever imagined having when they decided to adopt Rosa. While he would never, ever change any of this, it did complicate their lives just a little bit.

“No, you’re right, I’m overthinking things.” She took a deep breath with her eyes closed, posture reminiscent of a yoga pose. “Ok, let’s do this.”

Together they walked over to Rosa’s room. Her door was open, Rosa perched on her neatly made bed, head bent over a pad of drawing paper. Deeks rapped on the door jamb and she looked up with a smile, gesturing for them to come in.

“Hey, you got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure! I was just practicing one of the new techniques I learned in art class.” She held up the outline of a figure sitting on a bench.

“That’s looking great!”

“Thanks. I still need a lot of practice, but it’s getting easier. So, what’s up?”

“Rosa, there’s something we wanted to tell you,” Kensi began.

“Is it something bad?” she asked with slight wariness. “There’s not another rogue detective in the house is there?”

“No, nothing like that,” Deeks assured her. “It’s something we’re very excited about.” He gave Kensi an encouraging glance, automatically reaching to hold her hand, to provide support.

“We’re pregnant,” Kensi shared cautiously, barely pausing as Rosa’s eyes widened.

“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant,” she said in confusion.

“That’s what we thought,” Deeks told her, sharing a look of consternation with Kensi. “Look, I know this isn’t what you expec—”

Rosa threw her arms around them both, her head ending up sandwiched between his and Kensi’s.

“I’m so happy!” she exclaimed, giving Kensi her own hug before switching to Deeks.

“You’re not upset?”

“Of course not. I know how much you and Deeks wanted a baby.” She smiled shyly. “And I always wanted a sibling.”

***

1 Year Later

Deeks walked along a tree-lined path, pushing a two-seater stroller in front of him. Ahead, Kensi and Rosa were finishing getting breakfast from a small food truck. It was a perfectly sunny weekend, lots of other families running around the part, enjoying the warmth.

He heard a cooing sound from stroller, and pulled the top cover back, peering down at the two babies laying inside, one with wispy blonde curls and the other with hair a few shades darker.

“Hi Sophia!” Deeks said cheerfully to the tiny blonde. She responded by tilting her head back, eyes widening with delight.

“Gah,” she called out, pointing imperiously at him. Her brother, Caleb, watched, but seemed content to chew on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, does daddy’s little girl need to be picked up?” he asked, grinning down at her. Sophia blew a raspberry, which he took as a yes. Moving around to the front, he unlatched her safety belt, and scooped her up into one arm. “What about you, Mr. Caleb? You need a little snuggle too?”

Caleb kicked his legs excitedly, giving a gummy grin as Deeks picked him up too. Cradling a baby in each arm, he swayed while humming “For Baby” softly to them.

The twins had come a few weeks early, small, but perfectly healthy and beautiful. To say that Kensi and Deeks were stunned that they were adding not one, but two little Deeks-Blyes into the family was a massive understatement.

Still, they wouldn’t change any of it for the world. Neither would their many bonus aunts, uncles, and grandparents, who spoiled them outrageously.

“We have returned with bagels!” Kensi announced, drawing Deeks’ attention from the babies. She carried a large paper bag while Rosa held a carrier filled with coffees.

Kensi immediately set the bag on top of the stroller, reaching for Sophia and Rosa took Caleb.

“Mama missed you,” he heard Kensi say, carefully lowering Sophia into a controlled dip that had the baby giggling uncontrollably.

Now relieved of babies, Deeks began examining the bagel selection. He found a bacon and cheese with avocado which he put aside for Kensi, a cream cheese on onion, and finally a chorizo, egg, and cheese.

“No, Caleb,” Rosa protested holding one arm in the air as he made a desperate grab for her iced coffee. “El cafe no es para bebes. And you can smile at me all you what, I won’t change my mind.”

“Trade me?” Deeks asked, offering Rosa her sandwich in exchange for Caleb. She considered it for a second, side-eyeing Caleb, who was gumming a round little fist.

“Fine,” she conceded. “But don’t think that means you get him indefinitely.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Settling Caleb against his chest again, he sighed contentedly, smiling at Kensi.

“What?” she asked around a massive bite of sandwich.

“Nothing, I’m just happy,” he replied.

“Mm, me too.” She leaned over, pecking him on the lips, then thumbed away a speck of cream cheese from his cheek.

“Don’t worry,” Rosa said to Caleb in a confidential tone. “They’ve always been like this. It gets easier to accept with time.”

“And I wouldn’t change a thing,” Kensi whispered, stretching up to kiss him more thoroughly.

“Love you, Fern.”

***

A/N: I hope this story felt complete and satisfying to you all.

As always, I had to include a little John Denver with my reference to his song “For Baby (For Bobbie).