#i love those tiny lovely moments when you get reassured that you’re in the right place at the right time and everything is meant to be

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Chapter 6: Healed hearts

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

A/N: It's finally here! The final chapter! If you've made it this far, I wanted to say thank you for reading!!

There are no warnings for this chapter I guess, it's just pure fluff (with a tiny little bit of angst)

Masterlist

-

The mansion was unusually quiet when you and Logan arrived late that evening: no students running through the halls, no sounds of laughter or training in the yard. With the students on vacation and Jean and Scott away on their honeymoon, there really wasn’t much to do around.

“You’re back!” Ororo said from the staircase as she made her way to you. “We missed you!” She added while hugging you.

“Hi Ro.” You said hugging her back. “It’s good to be back home.”

“How was the trip?” She asked.

“I’ll take the suitcases upstairs.” Logan suddenly said before leaving the two of you alone.

Ororo frowned.

“Is he okay?” She whispered and you nodded your head.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him. The trip was… eventful, to say the least. He learned a lot about himself and his past. But you know how he is, he doesn’t talk much about himself. I think he’ll tell you about it eventually, once he’s ready.” You explained.

“What about you?” She asked.

“What about me?”

“Did you have a pleasant trip?”

You had to hold yourself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. You wanted so much to tell her about everything, about Logan and you getting together, but you still hadn’t had the “what are we?” talk with Logan.

“It was… really good.” You smiled. Ororo gave you a suspicious look, but didn’t press.

Logan waited for you in your bedroom after dropping by your suitcase. The second you stepped in he closed the door and kissed you. You smiled against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Did you tell her about us?” He asked.

“No, I didn’t but I think she suspects something. Should we tell her and the others?” You asked.

Logan shook his head. 

“Not right now. I like the idea of us having something just for ourselves.” He smiled and nuzzled your nose.

“You’re not embarrassed of me, are you?” you asked. It was supposed to be a joke, but deep down there was always a little bit of doubt. Logan pulled back with a frown.

“Are you for real right now?” He asked in disbelief. You shrugged and pouted cutely.

“No, but it’s nice to be reassured.”

Logan rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m not embarrassed and I don’t mind people knowing. You’re free to tell your friends.” Logan said. “I just don’t want to jinx it, you know? this is so recent I don’t want to rush into things and mess it up.” he confessed.

His words made you smile, but it was the vulnerable look in his eyes that made you melt in his arms. You knew he wasn’t the relationship type of man, so this was probably uncharted territory for him, even after 200 years.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You bit your lower lip and caressed his cheek. “Can you stay for a little bit?” You asked wiggling your eyebrows. Logan smirked.

“Baby, I’d stay until you kick me out.” He said before picking you up and taking you to the bed, you giggled and kicked your feet in the air all the way.

With the students on break, you and Logan found yourselves with a rare taste of freedom. You returned to the hospital to volunteer, but you also started visiting places like a nursing home, offering your powers to those who needed it most. Logan, meanwhile, kept an eye on the few kids who had stayed behind: unfortunately, not all of them had homes to return to for the holidays. When he wasn’t looking after them, he’d take the occasional motorcycle ride to clear his head.

You would share short little moments and maybe a kiss or two when no one was watching, but at night Logan would sneak into your bedroom for some alone time. Your relationship was developing into something sweet and comforting and you couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. It was scary how fast you fell for Logan. You were nowhere near ready to tell him you loved him, not because you didn’t love him, but because you didn’t want to scare him away. In the meantime you showed your affection in other ways and you were planning a little surprise for him: you were in the process of getting his father’s watch fixed.

One evening, he invited you along for a ride on his bike. The two of you ended up at a diner just outside of town. It was everything you could hope for on a date: burgers, milkshakes, and a slice of pie for dessert. Sitting together in a cozy booth, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like a teenager out with your crush. The ease of his company, the quiet way he glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking, it all made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

By the time you returned to the mansion, the world was dark and quiet. You expected everyone to be asleep, but as you quietly pushed the door open, Ororo was waiting for you in the hallway, arms crossed and a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“And where, pray tell, have you two been?” she asked, her tone laced with teasing amusement. Logan barely missed a beat. 

“What are you, my mother?” he shot back, his signature gruffness unable to hide the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as Ororo chuckled softly. “Just making sure you weren’t up to too much trouble.”

“We went out for a bite. I never rode a bike before so I asked Logan if it was okay for him to take me.” You said, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Mhmmm…” Ro arched an eyebrow giving you both an unimpressed look. “Right, well, it’s late so off to bed the two of you.”

“Again, not my mother.” Logan said annoyed. You chuckled and shook your head.

“Thanks for the ride, Logan! Good night!” You said before heading to the staircase.

“My pleasure, Angel.” He replied with a fond smile. 

Ororo narrowed her eyes, she had only ever seen that look on Logan’s face before, and it was when he looked at Jean.

“You two are onto something and I will find out soon enough.” She said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Logan said before quickly walking away so she wouldn’t see the goofy smile on his face.

Only ten minutes later Logan was sneaking out of his room and into yours, catching you by surprise halfway through your nightly routine.

“Logan! Jesus! I didn’t expect you until later!” You said embarrassed. You had a fluffy headband you used when you washed your face, you wore ratty clothes instead of the sexy nightgown you planned to wear that night, and had under-eyes masks on.

Logan chuckled and pulled you closer.

“So this is what you’re up to before I come here, uh?”

You groaned and hid your face on his chest.

“I have to make myself pretty for you.” You mumbled.

“Oh baby,” He cooed. “You’re always pretty to me. Beautiful. Gorgeous.” He kissed the top of your head. You smiled, your face warming up.

“And you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” You said before walking him to your bed. “Tonight was so nice! I like our little getaways.”

Logan chuckled.

“We should do it more often, although Ororo will definitely catch on.” He said as he sat down at the foot of your bed.

“And here I thought Charles was the mind reader.” You joked. “Maybe we’re being too obvious?” Logan pulled you closer so you were standing between his legs.

“Nah, she’s just being nosy… Now, no more talking about Ro, I came here to see my little angel.”

You smiled and ran your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and hummed happily.

“I’m glad to see you’re not tired of me yet.” You joked.

“Never.” He pulled you even closer and you leaned to kiss him. 

“Let me finish getting ready and we’ll continue this.” You said with a playful tone. Logan shook his head and held you tighter.

“All this sneaking around makes me wanna enjoy every second I have with you.” He said before throwing you on the bed. 

Under-eye masks be damned.

He had a good point: your time together was limited. Logan still opted to sleep alone in his own room. Both of you longed to share a bed, wrapped in each other's arms, but his fear of accidentally hurting you during a nightmare was too big to ignore. 

However, saying goodnight was becoming increasingly difficult and each night took longer. You clung to Logan and begged him not to leave your bed for at least five more minutes. Those five minutes usually turned into an hour and you only let him go when you were already asleep.

Tonight wasn’t any different. Logan said goodnight with several kisses and caresses on your sleepy face before quietly stepping out of the room. He had to be very quiet not to wake up anyone and create suspicions.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Logan jumped and turned around, finding Ororo at the end of the hall with a glass of milk in her hand and a smug look on her face.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Logan sighed.

-

You and Logan sat on one side of the table, while Ororo, Rogue, and Kitty sat across from you. Breakfast had been served, but no one was eating. On one hand, you felt like a kid about to be lectured by your parents; on the other, it was as if you were about to be interrogated by the FBI. The tension in the air was palpable, sharp and heavy, like the moments before defusing a bomb.

“Is this really necessary?” Logan asked.

“Yes!” Both Rogue and Kitty replied.

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Let’s get over this, what do you wanna know?”

“Everything!” Rogue answered as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Let’s start from the beginning.” Ororo said with her arms folded over the table. “When did you start seeing each other?”

“During our trip to Canada.” You said.

“And?” Kitty pushed.

“And… what?” Logan asked.

“How did it start? Who kissed who first?” Rogue said.

“Was it snowing? Was it romantic?” Kitty added.

“Was it a “long time coming” type of thing? Or was it an impulse?” Rogue added.

“Whoa, girls, that’s a lot of questions.” You said.

“Not to mention, very personal.” Logan added. You felt bad for him, this was clearly not how he wanted people to know.

“All you need to know is that Logan was a perfect gentleman during our first kiss.” You said. “And that’s all I’ll say about that.”

Logan glanced at you, but you found him hard to read. Was he satisfied by your answer? Or was he mad that you indulge them? You couldn’t tell.

“Alright, that’s good… for now.” Ororo said. “Let’s skip to the important stuff.”

“Oh lord…” You were terrified.

“Are you guys in a relationship? Or are you just fooling around?” She asked.

“That’s none of your business.” Logan hissed. And he was 100% right, but a small part of you hoped he would confirm your relationship status.

“Guys, this is all very recent, we’re still figuring things out ourselves.” You said, trying to defuse the situation. 

“We’re only asking because we love you and we want to see you happy.” Rogue said while pointedly looking at Logan.

“We’re fine.” Logan said, which wasn’t much of an answer.

“Then why are you sneaking around? You left her room in the middle of the night, that sounds like just fooling around to me.” Ororo pressed.

Logan suddenly got up, his chair scratching the floor loudly and making you flinch. Clearly Ororo pushed too hard on a touchy subject. 

“That’s enough.” Logan said before walking out of the room. He didn’t want them to know he was afraid of falling asleep next to you. He felt vulnerable enough as everyone knew about the night he stabbed you.

You watched him walk away with a heaviness in your chest. When you turned back you had all three women looking at you expectantly.

“Logan is right. This is a private matter we shouldn’t be discussing with anyone but each other.” You gave Ororo a look. “I told you he would talk once he’s ready. Now he may close off again.” You sighed tiredly. 

“What about you, though?” Rogue asked. You looked at her confused.

“What about me?”

“We care about you too.” Ororo said. “Logan can be… well, difficult. You spend so much time caring for him, helping him with his memory… is it worth it? I mean, he sneaks out of your bedroom at night, why is that?”

Now you understand why Logan was so upset. The implication that your partner wasn’t good enough for you, or that you weren’t happy in the relationship, was overstepping.

“Not that it is any of your business, but he insists on sleeping on his own bed because he’s too afraid of hurting me again.” You explained. The girls shared a look as they remembered that fateful night. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been and I don’t need anyone mendling in my business. If I ever need your help or want your opinion, I’ll let you know.” You said before getting up from the chair and walking out.

-

The rest of the morning felt heavy after the breakfast interrogation. You couldn’t help but replay Logan’s abrupt exit in your mind. Was Logan upset that everyone knew? Was he embarrassed? Did this mean you weren’t something serious after all? You clung to the conversations you had before where he reassured you, but doubt kept you on edge.

Lost in your thoughts you made your way to your usual bench. The fresh morning air soothed you a little bit, and you felt like you could think a little bit clearer. This is where Logan found you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with concern.

“I guess… What about you? You looked really upset.”

Logan sighed, sitting next to you on the bench. 

“They had no right to pry like that.” he said.

“They were out of line,” you agreed. “But… I think they got to my head. I can’t help wondering. Are we… serious? I mean, what are we?” You mentally braced for his response.

“You’re serious to me,” he said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. “You think I’d go through all this sneakin’ around for just anyone? You’re my girl.” He took your hand. “My little angel.”

You thought you would melt there and then, your heart exploded with happiness.

“Only yours.” You smiled. “No more sneaking around, okay? We can continue sleeping in separate rooms, but I don’t want to hide the fact that we’re together.”

“I’m okay with that.” Logan nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect us to make out like horny teenagers in the hall or the classrooms. We still need to act like teachers in front of our students.” You said and Logan laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

You were officially Logan’s girl.

-

As expected Logan arrived at your bedroom after dinner, ready for your usual nightly routine. Despite sleeping in his own bedroom, you noticed bits and pieces of him scattered in your room: he had a toothbrush and a bottle of cologne in your bathroom, there was a pair of clean socks and underwear in your dresser; a flask and an ashtray in case he wanted a drink or to smoke after sex, which happened pretty much every night… 

You loved it. You loved knowing Logan felt safe and comfortable with you.

Later on you rested your naked body on top of his, a light sheen of sweat covering both of you after some intense activities. Logan was the best lover you had. Not only he focused on your pleasure over his, but he was also very creative in the bedroom. At first you felt a little bit embarrassed that you weren’t as adventurous as he was, and you were a bit shy, but Logan was more than eager to help you explore your body and find what you liked best. He never pushed too hard and he always reassured you there was nothing wrong with liking sex or enjoying your sexuality.

He really was the best you ever had. In every sense of the word.

So there you were, hair all messy, sheets pooling around your legs, his hands tracing lightly on your back, when you remembered something.

“I have something for you,” you said as you sat up on the bed and reached for something on your bedside table. Logan sat up and leaned against the headboard, curious to see what you got.

You pulled out a little box neatly wrapped with a silver bow on top and handed it to him. Logan took it and hesitated to open it. 

“What’s the occasion? I didn’t get you anything.”

You giggled.

“No occasion, it’s not a big deal. Come on, open it.”

What Logan didn’t know is that you took his father’s watch to a clocksmith and got it fixed.

When he unwrapped it and saw the watch his expression softened in a way that made your heart ache.

“My father’s watch…” he murmured, running his thumb over the polished surface.

“I got it fixed for you,” you said quietly. “I thought maybe it’d be nice to have something of his, you know, now that you’re remembering more about him.”

Logan sat there in silence for so long you started to worry you’ve done something wrong. But then he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly.

“You’re something else, baby” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When he pulled back, you caressed his cheek.

“I just want you to be happy, Logan.”

He smiled and kissed you softly.

“I am. I really am, for the first time in a long time.”

You laid back down on the bed and watched as Logan traced his thumb over the watch lovingly.

“You know… I have a bone to pick with you.” He suddenly said. You frowned and looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You lied to me.” Logan replied and you jumped on the bed, quickly sitting up.

“What are you talking about?” You asked worriedly. Logan simply chuckled which only confused even more.

“A while back you told me that the only thing you couldn’t heal was a broken heart.” He said, a soft look in his eyes. You remembered that conversation, it was the night Scott and Jean got engaged and you were trying to comfort Logan despite your own heartache. “You lied.” Logan continued. “You healed mine. Thank you.”

Tears pooled in your eyes, overwhelmed by his tenderness.

“And you healed mine.” you whispered. Logan caressed your cheek and wiped a tear away.

“I’m not good at this kinda thing, but… I love you. I really do.”

Your breath hitched at the confession.

“I love you, too.” You leaned down and kissed him. “And just so you know, you’re much better than you give yourself credit for.”

Too happy and excited to sleep, you two stayed up talking almost the entire night. Eventually you reached the subject of his memory since there was still work to do.

“So, what’s next in recovering your memories?” You asked. Logan exhaled, his chin resting lightly on your head. 

“After Alberta?...” Logan sighed. “Madripoor.”

“Madripoor,” you repeated softly. “Sounds interesting.”

“Oh you have no idea.” Logan chuckled lightly, his breath warm against your hair.

“I’ll start with the preparations in the morning.” you said before closing your eyes and snuggling more onto him.

Logan fell asleep shortly after you, forgetting completely about going back to his own room. He never wanted to sleep in another bed without you.

-

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[fadeintolight]

.

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[aleskie]

A THOUSAND MILES SEEMS PRETTY FAR | Quinn Hughes x Reader

SUMMARY: But they have planes and trains and cars. He'd walk to you if he had no other way. aka long distance with quinn.

Word Count: 1k Warnings: none :D pure fluff. no angst, just love. ♫ Listen: Hey There Delilah by Plain White T's ♫

You and Quinn are on your bi-weekly phonecall, catching up on each other’s lives in the strange new reality of being miles apart. He talks about training and games, his neighbors and their quirky antics, the dishes he's trying to cook, and the restaurants he’s found nearby for when his cooking doesn't go as planned. There’s a lightheartedness in his voice as he tells you about getting recognized by fans, but you can hear the fatigue too, the weight of adjusting to a life where so much feels new and foreign.

“Tell me what it’s like over there,” he says, voice warm and familiar.

“Oh, honey,” you say with a laugh, “It’s been a wild few days.”

You update him on all the latest drama from home, from your mutual friends’ lives to the ridiculous gossip circulating on campus. You tell him about your classes, the endless cramming, and how you’re running on caffeine and pure determination. You mention the phone call you had with his mom, how she keeps you updated on his little brothers, Jack and Luke, and their texts to you asking for advice on how to hide things from their parents. 

Quinn chuckles sleepily, clearly entertained by their schemes. He’s already in bed, his face framed by the soft glow of his bedside lamp, while you’re still at your desk, laptop open, notes scattered around you. It’s late for both of you, and you know you’ll both pay for it with early alarms and sleepy eyes tomorrow, but the call feels worth it, like a lifeline between you. It was hard, you’ll admit, with him being in Vancouver and you still in Michigan, but it was better than not having him at all. 

“God, you look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. “Your lamp gives you this warm glow—you look like an angel.”

You laugh. “That’s probably just the homesickness talking. You’re either really sleepy or you just miss me. Or both.”

He stifles a yawn, smiling. “I always miss you,” he says, softer this time, the usual joking edge gone. “I never want to be apart from you.”

“Hey.” You lean closer, resting your chin in your hand as if it’ll somehow bring you closer to him. “Just two more years, Quinny. Then I’ll be right there with you.”

He’s silent for a moment, a question hanging in the space between you. Finally, he asks, “Do you wish I hadn’t left?”

You smile, reaching out to the screen as if you could brush his hair back. “I would never do that to you. This is your dream—you’ve wanted this as long as I’ve known you.”

He shifts in bed, tucking himself deeper into the pillows, watching you with that gaze that always made you feel seen, like you were the only one who mattered. The soft sound of your typing fills the quiet, and he’s content to just watch you, taking in the tiny changes in your expression as you work. In moments like this, he wishes he could teleport, even if just for an hour, just to see you, just to touch you. Being drafted to the NHL is everything he’s worked for, and he’d never give it up, but there’s still a quiet ache whenever he remembers you’re not there.

It isn’t the first time he’s asked if you wanted him to stay, and each time you tell him the same thing. You’d never ask that of him, wouldn’t dream of it. And every time, hearing you say those words—knowing you believe them—it reminds him just how much he loves you. It might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for him. 

“People say we’re crazy for trying to make this work,” he says, his voice softening. “But I don’t think we are. Is that weird?”

You smile, looking at him through the screen, your eyes full of warmth. “Not weird at all, bub. I feel the same way. They can joke all they want, but we know this is real.”

His gaze softens further, your reassurance the steady anchor he didn’t realize he needed. The corners of his mouth tug into a smile, one that’s vulnerable and hopeful all at once.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his words barely more than a whisper, but somehow carrying a lifetime’s worth of promises. “I promise, when you get here, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything you ever wanted.” Even thick with sleep, his eyes hold a fierce certainty, one that leaves no room for doubt. Maybe it was strange to some, betting so much on a relationship that started in university, but he knows, as surely as he’s known anything, that you’re it for him. He can already see it all so clearly—planning a wedding, finding a home, starting a life together. This is it.

“You already take care of me, Quinny,” you say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. “You’re all I need.”

He chuckles, his exhaustion creeping in with a long yawn. “Flatterer,” he teases, even as his eyes droop a little, his smile growing softer with every passing second.

“Might be time to call it a night,” you say gently, tucking your notebooks away and placing your pens back in their case. “Don’t miss me too much, yeah?”

His smile grows sleepy. “Almost summer,” he mumbles, words slow and relaxed. “I’ll have you all to myself then.” There’s a long pause, one filled with unspoken dreams. “I love you,” he finally says, voice laced with sincerity, each word as warm as a goodnight kiss.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling the words settle in your heart, grounding you. “Goodnight, Quinn. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight.” His voice is soft, eyes fluttering as he murmurs, “I’ll dream of you.”

You smile, your voice tender. “And I’ll dream of you. Let’s meet up again there, alright?”

A sleepy grin spreads across his face, a warmth in his gaze that transcends the screen. “Yeah,” he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet certainty, “Let’s do that.”

You both linger for a moment, unwilling to end the call, sharing a silence so comfortable it feels like being wrapped in each other’s arms. His eyes are on you, tired but happy, and yours on him, both of you letting that last connection sink in before sleep pulls you both under.

“See you soon,” you say softly, a quiet promise in your voice.

“See you in dreams, love.”

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"A whole new world." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

For Daryl, it still feels like living in a whole new world with his daughter by his side, but in the hour that he is left alone with Marley, Daryl proves he is the best dad ever.

A/N: Lately I live to create scenarios with Daryl as a dad♥ This is just a short imagine but I hope you like it. If you want to read other stories with dad!Daryl, here are two: "My everything." and "For life." Thanks!

Marley Rose Dixon is five weeks old.

She is so tiny compared to her father, who for those weeks had done nothing but lay on the living room couch with her on top of him, wrapped in a comfortable blanket and on his chest while Daryl patted or rubbed her back gently, earning little sounds like a light laugh or a warm sigh before she fell fast asleep. Daryl had already held Judith when she was born, but there was something particular about holding Marley, like being in a new world, with an almost overwhelming feeling to feel his own daughter that close, protected as only he could do it, being as gentle and loving with her as his parents never were with him.

And when Alexandria fell into a deep sleep during the night, just like right now, Daryl would take some time after his wife fed Marley, laying her on his chest so she could feel his warmth, one hand behind his head while the other caressed her back.

It was routine, part of his daily life, and he loved the idea of ​​doing it, waiting patiently for his turn to hold her. But when light knocks are heard on the front door, Daryl opens his eyes as he notices that he was starting to fall asleep as well.

“I'll go.” You say softly, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. “You look way too comfortable right now and I wouldn’t want to make you move your ass off the couch.”

You’re joking with him and he knows it, but Daryl scoffs as he crosses his feet over the armrest of the couch just to show you how comfortable he really is.

“I’m takin' care of our daughter, woman. This ain't a vacation, y'know?”

You chuckle before opening the door, and while it’s still a surprise that someone knocks considering it’s already late, that only meant one thing. Your neighbor is on the other side, a young woman who lived with her 8–year–old son.

“Hi, Elena, is everything okay?”

“Hey, (Y/N), sorry to bother you at this hour…” She tries to smile, though the worry on her face is evident, so you wave your hand indicating that everything is okay. “Ryan has been sick for a few hours now, and I thought he would get better if he rested, but he’s actually gotten worse and I was wondering if you could please check on him.”

Your smile falters slightly, because that would be the first time you’d leave your daughter alone with her father.

“Yeah, sure, of course I will. Let me talk to Daryl for a moment and I’ll come over to your house, okay?”

She nods and thanks you before heading back into her house, but when you close the door and turn around, Daryl is already looking at you, noticing your insecurity in a blink.

“Ya want a goodbye kiss? If ya want one ya can come closer, 'cause Marley and I will be fine without ya.” He looks at his daughter, as if she’s really going to answer him. “Ain’t that true, sweetie? We don’ need mommy watchin' us all day. Daddy can take care of everythin'.”

You trust him, completely, but your motherly instincts lead you to worry anyway.

“Okay. I don’t think I’ll be long, but there’s hot water for the milk in case she gets hungry. You know how to do it so it won’t be a problem.”

He scoffs.

“I know damn well how to do it.”

“And I just changed her diaper so I don’t think you will need to do it for a while.”

“Okay.”

“And if she starts crying maybe it’s because—”

“Woman, jus’ go, daddy can take care of it.” At least his confidence is reassuring, almost, but you know they’ll be okay. So, with a long sigh, you grab your cardigan from the single couch, your keys from the table near the door, and walk out of the house, leaving him alone in the company of his daughter’s soft breathing. “S'jus' ya and me, angel, so please don’ make daddy worry too much. I don’ want mommy to think I can’t take care of ma own daughter.”

Marley stirs slightly, letting out a small sigh, then falling into a deep sleep. For a moment, Daryl closes his eyes again and the house falls into a deep, warm sleep too, far from terror and danger, but the feeling is short–lived when after a while she starts to whine, first making soft sounds that Daryl tries to soothe as he continues to pat her back, making sounds that would calm her. For a few seconds, Marley does calm down, but the next her eyes squeeze shut tighter, and she cries for a little longer, a little louder this time.

Slowly, Daryl sits down on the couch, his hands supporting Marley’s body on her blanket.

“Okay, angel, I think we’re hungry again.”

He gets up from the couch with his daughter in his arms, gently rocking her on his way to the kitchen. The only light in the house comes from the lamp in the living room, but the moonlight shines through the open window blinds and lights his way as Daryl prepares the milk with an expert hand: pouring the water into the bottle, opening the formula, and so on. Marley continues crying, but not so loud to make her dad worry, and when within a few minutes the bottle has cooled under the sink’s stream of water, Daryl comes back into the living room, setting the milk on the table in front of him to nestle Marley against his arm.

Her blue eyes are open now, scanning the place, but the moment she catches her father’s gaze as he looks back at her, her crying subsides.

“What are ya doin' up so late, lil’ miss?” Daryl smiles, taking the bottle and bringing it to her mouth. The second Marley feels it against her lips, they part to start drinking the milk, her crying fading quickly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ya need to drink all the milk so ya can grow big and strong. Mommy’s a little short but us Dixons are tall, so I’m countin' on ya to get that from yer daddy.”

After a while and even though Marley’s eyes begin to droop as the milk runs out, Daryl continues to smile at her until her eyelids finally close again, the bottle still in her mouth. Daryl pulls it away from her and places it back on the table before standing up, settling Marley against his chest before pacing around the room, patting her back with a gentle touch. Marley's head is under his chin, and Daryl only has to tilt his head slightly down to rest it against his daughter, keeping her warm against him.

“Ya know, baby?” He says softly, his voice low so as not to disturb her sleep, but eager to share this story with her, even if she doesn’t hear or remember it. “When mommy found out she was pregnant, she was so scared. Mommy has always been a very, very brave person, but at that moment, daddy could see the terror in 'er eyes. Even though I don’ want to, one day I’ll have to show ya the new world we live in now, but despite that, I told yer mommy I wanted to have ya. The idea of ​​havin' a family of ma own never crossed ma mind until I met yer mommy: she came into ma life to remind me to stop existin' and start livin', but the moment I knew ya were in mommy’s womb I felt a new kind of happiness, somethin' I thought I had no right to feel. Daddy loves ya, ma lil’ angel, daddy loved ya since he knew ya existed, and daddy will love ya for the rest of his life. I jus’ hope ya love me too…”

Those last words leave his lips in an even lower voice, almost inaudible, but it’s a wish Daryl has dreamed of ever since he found out he was having a baby.

He places a kiss on Marley’s head, before heading upstairs.

Once in the bedroom, the light coming through the closed window with the curtains open fights against the darkness, light that draws a perfect square over the center of the bed, the place where Daryl leaves his daughter, as soft as he never thought he could be, covering her with her blanket before lying down next to her, on his right side and with his arm under his head to admire her as he has been doing since she was born.

Daryl's hand is significantly larger than Marley's, but he uses his finger to caress his daughter's, her hand slightly closed, smiling at the contact with her soft, warm skin. For him, it is still surprising to see that she’s really there with him, so close and so little. Marley has a small nose, and sometimes she looks like her mom, and sometimes like him. His family often jokes with him, wondering if she will inherit her dad's personality, that explosive temper that they used to make fun of fondly, but that everyone knew he had only used to protect himself from pain. Because everyone knew well that behind that, Daryl was a born leader, a good brother and an uncle, and especially a good husband and now a good father, and yes, he was also intimidating with his silence, but a very protective and loyal person, willing to give his life for his family.

It takes Daryl a moment to close his eyes, but he’s always alert, though the walls of his home are a kind of protection. He’d always been a light sleeper (except since Marley was born, because at that moment Daryl truly felt what it was like to be deprived of that resource), but the moment you walk up the stairs on your way to the bedroom, he can feel you despite the silence that accompanies you.

Daryl rubs his eye with his fist, raising himself up on his arm just as you enter the room.

“Everythin' okay with Ryan, sweetheart?” He asks quietly, in that deep, husky voice.

You nod as you walk over to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge to watch Marley.

“Yeah, it looks like he caught some kind of bug from eating something his mom forbade him to eat, but I gave him some medicine and Ryan will be fine: just that the nausea is pretty annoying, especially in the middle of the night.”

Daryl chuckles.

“It reminds me when ya were pregnant with Marley. Ya kinda hated me for it.”

You smile a little, it’s late but you’re still in the mood to joke with him.

“I kind of still do, but oh well…”

Daryl scoffs before laying back down, head over his arm.

“Shut up. Ya love me.”

You chuckle.

“Of course I love you, silly, if I didn’t I would never have let you get me pregnant.”

Daryl smirks, mischievous.

“I told ya it was a good idea to do it without a condom. We made a very cute baby.”

You squint.

“Yeah. But don’t think that’s going to happen again.”

With that, you get back up to change into something more comfortable before you go to sleep, at least for a little while before Marley wakes up again. Silently, and though you don’t notice until you get back to bed, too immersed in constant tiredness, Daryl follows you with his gaze all the way, admiring your body and your beauty until his eyes meet yours.

“When can I make love to ya again?”

You laugh softly as you lay down on the other side of Marley.

“I think in a few more days we’ll be fine.” You adjust the pillow under your head, rubbing your eye with your fist as sleep begins to overcome you. But before you drift off into a light slumber, you use the energy in your body to look your husband in the eyes. “This is the first time you’ve been left totally alone with her, and you did a great job, daddy, I knew you could do it. I am very proud of you.”

Daryl smiles slightly as he too begins to fight off sleep, but his chest is filled with pride.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 17

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (mentions of child loss and grief, aka we go through Joel's past one more time as he says goodbye)

A/N: We are at the end ❤ I am insanely nervous since the whole story was built around this final chapter...I really hope you like it. I am going to make a separate post with all my thank you notes, but for now: @the-scandalorian I literally could not have done this without your guidance and reassurance and constant support. I owe you everything, and I love you. @mrsmando thank you for looking this over for me, for being such an amazingly emotional ride or die and for inspiring me since day one of this fic with your massive brain. I adore you. finally, @bageldaddy thank you for yelling at me in the doc when I needed it, and for your constant Joel advice. You make me better. ❤

Series Masterlist

--

“That’s it, honey. You’re doin’ so good.”

 “Yea?” Straightening your back, you let your hips roll with the movement under you. The inside of your thighs burning with overuse, your voice is slightly breathless. “Like this?”

“It’s like you’re a natural,” he muses, giving you a wink. 

“I don’t know about that.”

A trampled path guides the horse more than you do, a circle carved into the grass in front of the cabin and you let out a breath, feeling yourself relax for the first time since you first climbed on. 

He didn’t believe you when you’d said you’d never been on a horse until you stood next to it, terrified. He had helped you up that day, climbing into the saddle behind you. When he noticed that you were paying more attention to the way his broad body encased yours from behind, he cut the lesson short with a teasing scold. 

Only to continue it in the bedroom later that night. 

He’s silent for a moment as he walks next to you, until June’s babble from the edge of the field calls out across the space. 

“See?” he says. “She thinks so too.”

She starts to crawl towards the two of you, and Joel is quick to stride over, picking her up. 

“I feel like I got the hang of it,” you say tentatively. “I’m not sure what to do if I have to take off on it though.” You look at him, the scenario only now occurring to you. “Hang on. What if I’m holding her and we have to run? How will I hang onto her and the horse? How –”

His hand comes to rest reassuringly on your thigh with a squeeze, stopping you.

“Don’ focus on that right now.” He shifts June in the crook of his elbow so that her outstretched hands can touch the horse. “Just focus on learnin’ the basics. When she’s down for her nap, I’ll get on with you and we can practice goin’ faster. Okay?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, sunlight catching the brown in his irises and curls. He raises his eyebrows in question, and you nod. 

“Okay. Yea, okay.”

Giving the horse a pat on its neck, you let June brush her hands over its coat. Her tiny fingers dig in, pinching the animal in exploration. 

“Easy, baby girl. Easy,” Joel murmurs. “You gotta be gentle. Like this.”

He takes her hand in his, petting the horse. Having no patience for the slow movement, she tugs her hand free to make a quick grab for the animal, and he chuckles, stepping back - only for her to erupt into a wail. 

“Aw come on. Don’ gimme those crocodile tears, baby.” 

Lifting her into the air, he holds her above his head and looks up at her scrunched face. His biceps strain the sleeves of his t-shirt, his curls fluttering in the breeze as he suspends her until her cries turn into whimpers, then giggles. Only then does he bring her down, kissing her on the cheek. 

“I knew you were fakin’.”

–

The plan was to leave tomorrow, at first light. 

Weathering weeks of up and down emotions, you’ve been constantly wavering between wanting to follow the others in hopes of finding somewhere safer for June and being terrified that you’re making the wrong decision. A silent war within yourself, always waging as you prepared. 

When it was just you and Joel, there were times that you had been afraid. You had eventually made peace with the idea that something might happen to you, even though you would have fought with everything you had to prevent it. The fear you feel now, however, is on a whole other level. Something more base, coming from deep within you. 

 It’s so much harder with June. So much more left to lose, so much more at stake. 

A bone-deep type of fear that took root in you the moment you realized you were pregnant, it only grew until it was something overwhelming. Something that choked you with nerves the day she came into this world. Something that reached down into the heart of you and grabbed hold of reserves you never knew you had. Something that turned you into another person entirely when you thought about anything happening to her - a very real possibility given the unknown you were willingly venturing into. 

In comparison, Joel seemed…calm. Always the case when he had a clear direction and a purpose, you couldn’t tell if it was because he truly believed this was the right thing or just because he was so caught up in the planning of it all.

Plants harvested and then pulled up to save the root system, seeds meticulously dried and saved in scraps of paper, everything protected with as much safe keeping as you could provide it. Stores of food organized and packed in makeshift saddle bags, clothing and rags for diapers and two sleeping bags and medicine and first aid supplies and knives and anything else you could think of that might be useful, already accounted for and packed away. 

All of it placed by the front door, waiting. 

You run down the mental list one more time while rocking June, eventually placing her in the crib after cradling the soft, warm weight of her sleeping body for a moment. 

“She go down okay?” Joel looks up from his place on the bed, the lantern glowing warm edges around the curve of his shoulders. The light splays across his skin, and he sets his book to the side. 

“Yea, she was just a little fussy.” Yawning, you crawl into bed next to him. “I think she can feel something in the air. Our nerves or something.”

“Probably,” he agrees. 

Sliding down under the quilt, you watch the shift of his muscles as he stretches to turn out the light. Joining you, he rolls on his side so you’re face to face.

Getting comfortable, you scoot closer. “So. Our last night.”

“Looks like it,” he replies, grasping your hand. He runs your knuckles over the  seam of his lips, giving them a kiss.

“Are you nervous?” 

He considers for a moment. “Yea. I know it’s time, but I can’t say I’m ready for what’s waiting out there.”

You nod.

Content silence rests between you, a cricket chirping right outside the window, the  gentle current joining the rustle of leaves as they stir in the warm night air. Your fingers play idly with the sparse hair that covers his chest, and he watches you in the darkness. 

“Are we doing the right thing?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper. 

“It’s a little late for that, honey,” he teases, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. When you don’t reply, his tone softens and he continues. “Hey now. We are. I know it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure. I don’t know if anyone is with any decision they make, honey. ‘Specially not parents. You can only hope, ya know?”

You draw your lip between your teeth, and he gently plucks it out with his thumb. Guiding your face to his in the darkness, he runs his touch across your cheek, stroking the soft curve. 

“Look at me.”

He’s right there, holding your gaze. Brown irises turned black in the dark room, holding you steady. There, like he’s always been. 

“This is the right thing. I know just as well as you that there is plenty out there to be afraid of, but I got you. I got you both. I ain’t gonna let anything happen.”

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, dampening the pillow case. Your fears getting the best of you, words come pouring out. 

“What if she crawls away while we are sleeping, or what if she gets sick? What if someone tracks us, and tries to take what we have?” You swallow hard, taking a deep breath. “If something happens to either of you, I –”

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, and he’s gathering you in his arms, pulling you close. The steady thump of his heartbeat underneath your cheek greets you, and you bury your face in the soft crook of his neck. 

“I know we have to, but I don’t want to leave. This is our home.”

He softly shushes you. “We’ll make a new one. Together.”

Cradling your head in his hand, he lets you cry, his fingers stroking over the crown of your hair. Wrapped in his hold, you let it all pour out: not deep, shuddering cries of despair but rather the silent cries of mourning, of nerves strung too tight for weeks. 

His hand slips down to rub between your shoulder blades and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to commit everything about this moment to memory: the mattress underneath you, the heat of his body, the husky rumble of his voice. The soft sheets and the worn blankets that have held the heat of your naked bodies countless times. His side of the bed that smells like him, his things on the nightstand, the feel of him in the middle of the night when it’s too dark to see. The scratch of his beard against your palm when you sling your arm over him in the night, just to find the bare patch along his jaw with your fingertips. 

You think about everything that’s ever happened in this bed: his confession about Sarah, the intimacies you’ve shared with each other under the safe veil of darkness. Sounds that these walls have absorbed night after night: his low chuckles and his murmured praises and his endless, reassuring love. 

When you’re done, Joel guides you back down into the mattress, using his hold on you to close the distance between your mouths. A gentle kiss for your lips, then your nose, then each one of your tear damp eyelids before finding your mouth again. 

You shift up, giving him access to deepen it as his tongue slides against yours, your body arching into the familiar taste and path of his kisses. Your fingers thread through his hair, slip down the breadth of his back, and curl around the back of his arms.

Your thighs hug his hips, his head dipping to find more of your skin. Laving the edge of your jaw, he gives your throat an open mouthed kiss as his hand pushes your sleep shirt up. Up, up, exposing the bare skin over your sternum and when his lips find your nipple, he draws into his mouth with a reverential suck. He laves his tongue over and around it, playing with the stiff bud as he rocks his hips into yours and when his teeth gently scrape, a moan catches in the back of your throat. 

The last time you’re ever going to feel him in this bed, you savor it. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groans softly when his fingers find your slick warmth. 

“So do you,” you breathe, reaching down to guide his fingers inside you. They slip in with a slick, snug stretch, and he rests his forehead along the plane of your chest, watching your hand move with his. Crooking his touch to reach a spot that makes you keen, he rubs against it and you muffle your sounds against the firm round of his shoulder. 

Quiet. You have to be quiet. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, and he works his fingers faster, pulling back to watch your face. 

“I wanna make you come like this first. Gonna be awhile before I can take my time with you again.”

You say nothing, the air seizing in your lungs as you arch into the tight, syrupy warmth he’s building inside you. Clenching around his fingers, you’re tipped over the edge by the heft of his stiff cock rocking against your thigh.

“There’s my girl,” he praises. 

His words wash over your heated skin, his eyes flashing in the dark. Slipping his fingers from you to drag damp over your skin, he pushes your legs open to make room for himself.

–

Leaving you sated and asleep, he slips from bed as quietly as he can, stepping out into the inky night. Tugging a sweatshirt over his head, his feet are bare, the hem of his pajama pants skimming the grass as he walks down to the shore. 

A simple handmade cross made from the leftover wood from June’s cradle is gripped in his hand.

He kneels and taking his time, begins to delicately smooth out a patch of sandy earth. His fingers pluck away wayward strands of grass and toss out tiny pebbles until it’s cleared. A stack of stones he’s been gathering for the last few weeks rests in a pile nearby, waiting. 

Satisfied, he rests back on his heels.

“Hey, baby girl.”

Silence greets him, and content with that response, he continues.

“We’re leavin’ tomorrow.”

Reaching for the biggest stone, he turns and sets it just at the edge of the lapping water. He then balances the next one on top, slightly smaller than the one underneath it. 

“I’m not sure when we’ll be back, if we’ll ever be. But I’m gonna mark a spot for you just in case. My favorite spot.”

He adjusts a third stone on top of the others, his hand lingering to make sure it stays put. 

“I never got to –” he starts, steadying himself. “I never had a spot for you. Just kept you in my head, and in my heart.” He holds the fourth stone in his hand, looking at it. “I always wanted a place to visit you. A place to come to when I missed you, a place to talk to you.” 

He sniffles, using his knuckle to wipe at a tear that slips free and then places the stone on top of the others.

“Now I know that you’re always listenin’.”

The water washes over the base of the stones, the ripples sparkling in the moonlight and he finishes the cairn in silence, listening to the sounds around him. When he’s done, he looks up, and stares at the expanse of stars above him. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. His voice wavers, and he swallows hard. “For everything. I know you know this, but I’ll – I’m always thinkin’ about you. I’ll always be here when you need me, okay? I will never stop bein’ your dad.”

A few more tears roll down his face, and he lets them go. The corner of his mouth eventually lifting, he clears his throat. 

“Maybe you could watch over your sister for me, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble on this trip? Sometimes she gets this smile on her face and it’s just like the one you used to get.” A low chuckle slips free, and he hangs his head with a shake. “It's like I know she’s about to do somethin’ that she ain’t supposed to do, and all…'' 

The rueful smile on his face softens, his voice lowering with a rasp. 

“All I see is you.”

More tears come, silent paths gliding down his face and he sits alone with his thoughts then, on the edge of the river. 

That night comes back to him: the sheer terror he felt, the despair, the helplessness. The rage that filled him when he woke to find out that her body had been left behind, twisted and broken and all alone in the dirt somewhere. Like no one even cared to bury her, even if he knew that wasn’t the case. 

The blur of black days that followed her death, when he longed to join her. 

The weight of the gun in his grip, the thud it made when he whipped it at the wall with a scream when he missed. 

All the years after, trying to lock the memory of her away. The shadow of a person he became, all the things he did without an ounce of regret. 

A man with nothing to lose, because he’d already lost it all. 

When his tears dry, he looks up at the sky again and finally, he remembers a different memory. 

A warm night sky just like this one, the slippery cushion of a sleeping bag under his back and a petite, squirmy body stretched out next to him. 

“What’s that one, dad?” A swirl of stars above them, her small finger points at the brightest one. 

She sits up, the silhouette of her unruly curls calling to him and he brushes his hand through the soft texture of it, making up a name.

“Dad! Stop it,” she laughs. “For real. What is it?”

He makes up another one, and the girlish peal of her laugh echoes in the dark; the kitchen light from the house glowing behind them. 

Still feeling her curls against his palm, he takes the cross in his hand, and pushes the bottom of it into the dirt. Standing with a soft grunt, he brushes the sand from his knees and looks at it for a moment. 

A tiny thing, shadowed by the protection of a tree. 

Protected and safe, finally. 

“I love you, baby girl.”

With one last look at the cross, he makes his way slowly back up to the cabin. 

–

With June secured to your front, you walk around the inside of the cabin one last time. 

Domestic warmth infused in every room, items you have to leave behind paint a picture of the people that lived here: the westerns he read in his early days of avoiding his want for you stacked next to his side of the bed. The flowered quilt that you tucked yourself under on rainy days spread over the mattress. The bathroom, with its neatly folded yet mismatched hand towels draped over the bar next to the sink. 

The living room, with the dust that once coated everything gone, and the kitchen, with a neat row of washed pots lined up next to the dish rack that holds a mug used this morning. 

The clean windows that would let in the bright sun, save for the tarp along the back that has been secured in place.

Even the strangers that line the hallway live in cleaned frames, and walking past them, you wander into June’s bedroom to take one last look at her cradle. Impossible to bring with you, it hurts the most to leave behind. You’re still looking at it when Joel comes in from outside, calling your name.

“In here,” you call back, and he comes to stand behind you, curling his hands around your hips. You lean back into him, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, reading your mind. 

“I’ll make her a new one, honey. I promise.”

You turn and give him a watery smile, and he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“A big girl bed this time, I think,” he coos down at June, and she reaches for him, fussing when he doesn’t pick her up. 

Cradling her squirming body, you follow Joel outside. 

Next to the porch, the horse shifts under the weight of the saddle bags, stomping her feet and you watch as Joel soothes her, sliding his hand down over her coat. Ropes securing everything, she is weighted with your belongings and with the plan  to walk beside her as much as possible, you start to untie her reins while he closes the front door. 

The original tarp that covered it is dragged back into place, and when everything is as it was on that first day you found it, he gives it one last look.  

Coming to join you with his rifle slung over his shoulder, he takes the reins. 

“You ready?”

At the sound of his voice, June looks at him and smiles, a tiny dimple piercing her chubby cheek. He returns it, reaching out to grasp her foot with a wiggle. 

“Are you?” you ask. Your brow knit with gentle concern, you nudge your chin towards the water. 

“Your spot is beautiful, by the way,” you say softly. “June and I said goodbye this morning. It’s perfect for her.”

He says nothing, gratitude spilling from the depths of his eyes. Looking at you for a long time, he then leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“I guess time heals all wounds,” you muse, thinking of the man you came here with and he pulls back.

Looking down at you both, his expression turns into a sort of solemn earnestness.

“It wasn’t time that did it.”

Your fingers locked in June’s fist, she pulls them into her mouth for a nibble and his hand reaches up to stroke the curve of her cheek, and then your own before leaning in for a kiss.

Walking away from the cabin, you look back when you reach the far edge of the original path that brought you here: the only visible indication of the structure a slice of muted, dingy blue in a sea of lush green. Leaves crunch underfoot as you walk beside him, the slope of his broad shoulders a map that you’ve always followed without question. With another couple steps, the cabin disappears from view.

Looking forward, you lace your fingers with his and walk.

[glossykissies]

i would love to know more about the mean! linecook!scott au, like how did you first meet him?

so i’m thinking classic sunshine x grumpy trope, scott is the head linecook but also pretty much runs that kitchen like the military because he thinks everyone else is too incompetent to do so. he sees you bumbling in as the new girl, all excitable like a puppy and clumsy on your feet and thinks great, just another person i need to accustom to the ways of my kitchen. she is pretty cute, but that’s besides the point.

you even try and make it a point to introduce yourself to him, nearly walking smack bang into his chest as he towers over you, staring at you analytically as he snaps his gum at the back of his teeth. your manager said no gum was allowed in the kitchen, but you guess this scott guy does what he wants.

“oh! nearly ran into you, i’m sorry!” you grin, holding your hand out for him to shake. he stares at it, then back at you as you happily introduce yourself retracting your hand. “i’m new here if you hadn’t noticed. pretty nervous but everyone seems really nice so far, i’m kind of a people person so i think chatting to customers will be fun to be honest. i know people say you get bored of doing that kind of thing but i’ve always liked it. i’m a yapper. it’s kind of my thing! you’re not talking.” you cut your ramble short with a nervous swallow and he slowly raises his hand, placing it on your arm and gently moving you to the side.

“you’re in front of my work station.” he responds bluntly and your face falls a little.

“right! that’s my bad.” you nod, and surprisingly he turns his huge body to face you. seriously, he was so tall he made the kitchen feel smaller. scott digs in his back pocket for a moment before pulling out a small, seemingly new notepad with a pen wedged into the side and presses it firmly into your palm.

“this is yours. waitresses are meant to bring their own but i know you didn’t. you lose it, you gotta remember everyone’s orders. we don’t do taking orders on your phones notes app, it looks juvenile. so don’t lose it. on fridays we serve hot plates so wear long sleeves, you’ll be carrying a lot on your arms and you don’t wanna burn yourself. you drop those plates because they are hot, i’ll be pissed. when you come into the kitchen you walk straight through behind whoever is infront of you to the designated station, you take the food and then walk around the back and out that door. you hang around, or reverse back on yourself you could walk into someone and drop the plate. won’t be happy about that. you drop something, you clear it up. you spill something, you wipe it up — and if someone out there yells at you…” he pauses finally, softening his firm tone only a tiny bit. “you tell me. alright?” he starts chewing again, raising his eyebrows impatiently for you to respond.

“yes sir. i mean, just— yes.”

“good. go sign in.” he nods his head dismissively, turning back to his station and you scurry off to mark yourself as present on the register.

“that scott guy is scary. i think he hates me.” you whisper to an older waitress, a girl around 10 years your senior who’d been working at the restaurant for a while. she scoffs, a look on her face like she knows something that you don’t.

“s’the most we’ve ever seen scotty-boy talk. he likes you.” she reassures before striding off to work. you turn your head, twiddling your new pen in hand as you go to look at him, and he’s already barking orders at his team. wouldn’t hurt to get on his good side.

[itsthatmff]

May I ask for Garou and Metal Bat with a partner who is al lovey dovey/super duper affectionate with them 🥺?

I tried my best 😪 i’m not rlly the affectionate person and don’t write them either lmaoo but this was still superr wholesome to write ~

OPM Men With an affectionate S/O

Included: Garou, Genos, Metal bat

Fem!reader

Tiny bit suggestive with Garou’s part

Garou

He isn’t used to affectionate gestures at all

In fact he usually gives you weird looks when you try to be cheesy or clingy, but doesn’t hate it.

You’ve done great in melting his heart though

One thing he loves about you is that you pay attention to details. Especially when you know exactly when he needs a massage after hard training.

And you give him great meals. Wether its taking him to cheap or expensive restaurants, convenience stores or you making him food at home, he appreciates every single one of them.

You surprised him with homemade steak and a bougie dinner once and you could see the sparkles in his eyes.

“I don’t know who to eat first. You or this steak.” He says smugly.

Gets reall cuddly after dinner. Those are the moments when he likes to show a bit more or his affectionate side as you pamper him with affection.

“I love you. You got that?”

Since you’re so affectionate to him all the time he kind of softened up himself. He doesn’t say no to stuff he usually would. And he doesn’t care if others catch him lacking.

Genos

Genos can be verryyy picky and stubborn when it comes to you trying to do stuff for him.

He doesn’t like you going out of your way to make him dinner or clean because thats supposed to be his job.

Doesn’t want you to lift a single finger in his presence.

Most likely will nag at you if you go to make him food or sort his notebooks.

Doesn’t admit that he likes your words of affirmation and affection but secretly enjoys it.

Since he’s a cyborg with issues you want to remind him every single day that he’s loved by you. You plaster him with hugs and kisses even if he tells you that it’s not the right time.

To you he’s just as human as the next person, and you’re not really bothered by his cyber kinetic body.

He often gives in to your touch, but he’s not that talkative. A lot of the times he speaks out his gratitude to you.

“Thank you for being so caring to me. I will make sure to never leave your side.”

You’re probably one of the very few people to have made him ever smile.

Metal bat

This guy literally cant believe that he’s dating an angel like you

He finds himself mumbling in awe about just how loving you are

Can’t ever say no to you giving him affection, even if he’s mad at you he can’t stay mad for too long

Its like you know what to say and do at the perfect time. You reassure him and give him words of encouragement whenever he needs them.

And Zenko doesn’t think much different about you. she LOVES you. Now she has a great big bro and a big sis.

You often play or go shopping with her.

you decide to bake cookies with zenko for Metal bat since you were in that Christmas mood, You both sent Badd to the living room and dared him not to peek into the kitchen

And on the other hand badd’s heart melts whenever he sees you with his sister. You were the perfect girlfriend..wife even- He had to snap out of his thoughts!

But he wasn’t the only one thinking that way.

“Big sis- could you marry my brother so that you can stay my big sis forever?” Zenko enthusiastically says as she stands on the chair to reach the kitchen counter as you two decorate the cookies.

Her request made you laugh, Children these days really got creative. “Sure. In the future maybe.” Badd and you still were too young to consider marriage, but you didn’t want to crush the little girls dreams.

When the cookies are finished you present them to badd proudly and he looks like he’s about to start crying from the wholesome gesture.

Badd goes to give you and Zenko a hug and tries one of the cookies. Before he’s able to comment on the taste Zenko suddenly yells out.

“Big bro! (Y/N) told me she’ll marry you!”

He almost chokes on his cookie at his sisters statement. His ears and face turn red. Zenko had been messing with you again hasn’t she?

Badd simply stares at you in awe. He didn’t know where to start. What to even say!

He swallows hard. There had to be something he could say to make this situation less awkward. In that moment something slipped out of his lips.

“I love you.”

Zenko was proud of another of her achievements as tiny cupid!

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Somewhere Only We Know ♡

♡ Pairings: artist!boyfriend!hyunjin x fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff

♡ Summary: Things have been hard for you lately so you retreat to your boyfriend's apartment where you find all of the love and reassurance a girl could ask for.

♡ Word Count: 1.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: None really but reader's been going through a lot so she is indeed a little sad tonight.

♡ A/N: This is a request from @jehhskz who I promised to write a literary hug for so I really hope I lived up to my promise. Thanks so much for the request you beautiful human.

The night hangs quietly over Hyunjin’s loft, the fresh earthy post rain air gradually filling the space. Seated at his desk facing the open window, Hyunjin hums along to the music flowing from the record player tucked in a nearby corner. Before him on the desk sits an open sketchbook, textured canvas paper coated in a gradient of pastels that mirror the night sky.

And seated on the floor between his legs, wrapped up cozy and warm in his favorite blanket, is you. Working with his pastels typically dictates that Hyunjin use two hands but tonight he makes due with one, the other preoccupied with more important things like playing with your hair or tracing the contours of your face.

With your head resting against his inner thigh he can only reach one side of your face but that’s more than enough room for him to silently praise those beautiful features that take up more space in his mind than you know. The tips of his fingers are delicate, each brush of them across your skin so deliberate that it’s almost as if you’re one of his paintings. 

Lately it seems that the whole world’s caving in on you. The pressures of life have begun to take their toll and it’s all so much…too much. What you’ve needed more than anything is a safe place to be, somewhere to get away from it all, and Hyunjin couldn’t be happier to be that for you. “Jinnie…” you say—the first thing you’ve said in at least an hour—and the scratching of a midnight blue pastel against paper comes to a halt. In an instant everything around him disappears. There’s only you.

Hyunjin reaches around, cupping your chin, and tilts your head up towards him. You lock eyes, him looking down and you looking up. His eyes are the moon, yours are the sea, and, oh, how he moves you. “Need something, sweetie?” he asks, strands of dark hair falling loose from the hair band keeping it out of his face. You shake your head, the tiny hairs on your arm standing up as he strokes the side of your neck. “No, it’s just…do you ever wanna…I don’t know, run away?”

Hyunjin gasps, pretending to be on the verge of tears, “She said I’m so boring I make her wanna run away.”

“You’re such a drama queen” you giggle, rolling your eyes, “It’s not that. I mean, I do want to run away but not from you. From…” Your chest tightens at the thought of what troubles you, stopping your words short.

Hyunjin leans down to kiss you on the forehead, grounding you in this moment with him. His way of reminding you that you are safe here. “From everything else? Just drop it all and run as fast as you can to escape it? I feel that way all the time. Way more than I’d like to honestly.” 

“So how do you get over it?” you ask, relieved to finally have someone who gets it. “Hmm,” he sighs, glancing out at the endless night and back down at you, “Someone once told me that when we feel bad things that’s just our hearts telling us that something’s not right. So we shouldn’t just get over it. We should pay attention to it.”

You shudder at the concept, paying more attention to what you’re feeling is the last thing you want to do. “But every time I think about it I get so upset. I feel weak.”

Hyunjin’s expression sours the second the word “weak” leaves your lips. Sitting back in his chair, he holds his arms out to you, “Come sit.” Staying snug in your blanket burrito, you make your way onto his lap, quickly adjusting to your new spot. Hyunjin laces his arms around you, holding you close to him like something too valuable to let sit unprotected.

“Never say that again” he says, empathetic but unwilling to let you doubt yourself, “You are not weak. You’re human. Life sucks sometimes and you don’t have to force yourself to be okay with it. Not for anyone.”

Fidgeting with a loose thread in the blanket’s stitching, you fight your hardest to choke back the tears that inevitably come streaming down your cheeks. Life may be overwhelming but this—being loved by him even when you’re falling apart—is overwhelming in its own way.

Hyunjin pulls the sleeves down on his sweatshirt, using the smooth cotton to wipe away your tears as they fall. “So, where are we running to?”

“What do you mean?” you sniffle, blinking through the tears. 

Hyunjin looks at you like his reasoning’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You wanna go so let’s go. Right now. We don’t even have to tell anyone. Let’s just…fuck it…let’s go.” 

“You can’t just go, Jinnie. You have that thing tomorrow and—” 

Hyunjin kisses you, wiping your brain clean of any thoughts of pushing him away. His lips play a game of catch and release with yours. Drowning you in their soft embrace, letting you come up for air, and dragging you back down again. “What’d I say to you when I asked you to be my girlfriend?” 

“You said, ‘It’s me and you’” you recall, as if you could ever forget. 

“Me and you and you and me and me and you” Hyunjin says faster each time until you’re giggling through what’s left of your tears, “We’re in this together. You’re stuck with me.” 

He lingers closely enough to your face that you could steal a kiss of your own if you wanted to and you do. Your body rushes with so much heat that you let the blanket fall away, exposing you to a light breeze. Hyunjin pulls you over so that you’re stadling him, his arms locking around your waist.

“Take me wherever you want,” you whisper, “As long as I’m with you I don’t care.” It gives him butterflies to hear you say that and you notice his cheeks begin to go all rosy on you. It’s the cutest thing. Hyunjin plants his feet firmly on the ground, lifting you up without warning, and carrying you towards the bed. You cling to him for dear life, only letting go once he has you safely on the bed. Even then the two of you can’t quite untangle from each other. Not that either of you try. 

“Cuddle tonight and prison break in the morning, deal?” he asks, lit up with all the possibilities of where you could escape to together.

You yawn, settling into the fluffy mattress, eyelids growing heavy, “Deal.”

Hyunjin pulls you in, your head nestled against his chest, and strokes your hair as he hums along to the music once more. You drift off to sleep in no time. Comforted, loved, protected, and safe in the knowledge that tomorrow won’t be like the others have been because you’ve finally let him in. Finally let yourself trust that it truly is you and him. 

And him and you and you and him and…

[ragnvindrgf]

i love nerdy ajax <3

☆ pairings: tutor!childe x bimbo!reader

☆ warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it fellas), creampie, reader refers to childe as ajax, not totally proofread

ajax watches as you idly flip the pages in the near 10 pound textbook on marine biology, clearly not even pretending to at least skim the pages. this was going nowhere. 

“so, uh, valentine's day is coming up. any plans?”

you roll your eyes, “valentine's Day is just a commercial scam. i don't waste my time on that lovey-dovey crap.”

“oh, well, i was just curious. anyway, let's focus on these aquatic biomes.” 

you sigh and turn to look at the ginger next to you and pause. ajax’s eyes are shifting between everything in the room, the damn textbook, the wall, the door, everything but you. you weren’t unaware of the effect you had on guys, what with your tiny tube tops, miniskirts and shiny lip glosses.  unfortunately, there was more to life than shiny and revealing clothes and you desperately needed to pass this marine bio midterm. so, you enlisted the help of ajax, the nervous mess next to you, he’s top of the class and surprisingly not at all bad looking. easily over 6 ft, lean build, bright orange hair that was messy but like in a good way, and god those gorgeous blue eyes. 

“y’know, you're cute, ajax. maybe there's more to you than just textbooks.” you rest your chin on your hand and peer at him.

“um. what?” ajax’s brain nearly short circuits at the fact that the very hot girl next to him just called him cute and to make matters worse you’re now staring at him and leaning close and- oh, you smell like flowers. and your lips are plump and pink, pursed in a thoughtful, expressive way. he wonders what they would taste like, would they taste like the strawberry flavored gloss you applied a few moments earlier? 

“i thought nerds were like, all glasses and braces and total virgin looking but you're actually pretty hot.” you smile flirtatiously, watching ajax’s cheeks pinken as he shifts in his seat. 

screw it, you're not getting anywhere with this review and god knows your pretty little head could use a break.

ajax’s eyes widen when he feels your lips crash onto his. one of your hands on his shoulder while the other rests on his knee. he was right, your lips do taste like strawberries and he can feel the sticky residue on his own lips. his own hand comes up to tentatively cup your cheek, accepting that this really was happening and leaning deeper into the kiss. 

eventually, you both need air and briefly break apart. you waste no time in removing your baby tee, shivering at the cool air hitting your bare skin. ajax stares in awe at your plush tits and hardened nipples and quickly follows in removing his own shirt. you gaze appreciatively at his toned stomach and move over to sit on his lap and latch your lips together again. this time you grind down and moan softly at the friction of your clothed cunt and his very hard bulge. ajax’s hands are gripping your waist and his head is reeling. frankly, he can't even think right now, all he knows is that his dick is practically trying to burst out of his jeans from the hot girl’s pussy on him. which you can definitely feel.

“aww, I’m flattered. looks, or should i say feels, like we’re on the same page here,” you giggle reach in between you two to undo his belt. 

“i-um,iI don't have a condom,” the ginger murmurs into your neck.

“no need for that, i’m on the pill,” you reassure him and make work of his zipper. you lean back on the desk just enough to tug his boxers down so that his cock springs out. it slaps against his stomach and your mouth waters at the sight. he’s so fucking big that you briefly wonder if it’ll even fit, you wouldn’t have thought someone like ajax was hiding something like this in his pants if you hadn’t seen it for yourself. and it’s pretty, the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, thick and flushed red at the tip. there’s a bulging vein running along the side that’s begging for your tongue to run over it. 

ajax squirms anxiously under your eyes, “is it…okay?”

“ ‘okay’? ajax, i can't believe you’ve been hiding this from me,” you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, “i definitely need you in me now,” and with that you're standing up and removing the rest of your clothing. ajax watches with hooded eyes as you pull down your tiny shorts and your panties with them. even from your frontside he can see how plump your ass is. 

and then you’re guiding his cock in between your folds, slowly sinking down and wincing from the stretch. ajax’s hands wander and squeeze your ass, gripping it so hard you’re sure it’ll leave red marks. but it's worth it with the way ajax sounds and looks so good under you. his head is thrown back with a loud groan falling out his lips. with the way you’re bouncing on his cock and squeezing around him so deliciously, he’s not sure he’ll last very long. his tip is hitting up into your cervix repeatedly, making you whimper sweetly. 

“fuck— you feel so good,” Ajax gasps in between his own moans, you laugh breathily, you could say the same thing.

his brows furrowed together as he feels a familiar coil in his stomach beginning to tighten, “i’m gonna- you should get off before i- fuck,” his hot cum spurts deep inside you before you can even tell him that no, there's no way you're going to let this man pull out of you. instead, you moan at the feel of his cock twitching inside of you as your own orgasm washes over you. you sink down on him one last time before your cunt’s squeezing around him and you're crying his name into the air. 

your legs are shaky when you try to stand up, his cock slipping out with ease and a blend of his and your cum starting to leak down your thighs. ajax stuffs his dick back in his pants when you move to grab your shirt, ignoring the uncomfortable gooey mess. 

and he surprises you when he stands and grabs your hand and pulls you back in for a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle and you’re both smiling. “um, thanks, i think,” He grins sheepishly against your lips. 

your eyes widen at such simple words, no guy has ever kissed you after sex, much less thanked you, they just used you as a method to get their dick wet.

taking Ajax’s face in your hands, you lean in to connect your lips one more time, lips moving in sync before breaking the kiss with a smile.

“thank you, you just made learning about fish a whole lot more interesting.” you giggle as realization flashes over ajax’s face when he notices the abandoned study materials on the desk. he chuckles and shakes his head, “not like you were doing much before i guess.”

“that’s true,” you smooth your hands over your clothes when an idea pops in your head, “but, we still have time until my test… maybe we can get together again wednesday night?”

ajax looks over your cute, hopeful face, “wednesday.. like valentines?”

you shrug nonchalantly, trying to suppress the butterflies in your stomach, like i said, just another day.”

[sethvzekiel]

what could have been | 141 x cold!reader

a passing admission proceeds to completely take over his mind

141 x cold! reader. callsign azrael. gn! reader. mild angst + pining. multiple POV, no established relationship. flashback central, marked in red + italics.

part 1/same AU as this

Long hc/short fic. 3.6k words.

It was banter — really, just mindless chatter to fill the silence on the way back home. Something to wear off the adrenaline from the previous battle. It spilled from lips like loose threads, mindless ramblings about past experiences and feelings and army stories.

Stories like “LT, what do ye mean I wasn’t first place? That was a solid run I just did, solid!” and “When you were our age, Captain, they didn’t have telly,” between snickers and friendly insults.

You were the contractor, not one of them: a position you were keen on protecting as you kept to the far corner of the army plane, typing up your own report for Laswell. The chatter droned on in the back of your mind as you spared only the barest sliver of attention for emergencies. It was only when someone mentioned your name that you looked up from your laptop.

Gaz tilted his head at you, a spark of mischief in his eyes. He’d been getting bold lately, fully confident that he was your favorite comrade. Gaz did always have a sharp tongue, even for Price.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You scoffed, fully ready to get back to your report.

“What are we, schoolgirls at a sleepover? Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Someone closed your laptop. Soap.

“No, no, answer his question!”

“Scotsman. Get your hand off something that’s five times your salary, or I’ll remove it myself.”

You were only half kidding; the laptop was six times his salary. Merc money was a lovely thing.

Soap quickly retreated, muttering something about being on the wrong career path and “five times my fuckin’ salary, get off yer arse,” but nudged you nevertheless.

It felt as if the conversation was finally going to move on when another spoke.

“Answer the question, Azrael.”

This was a joke. You didn’t hide your disdain as you glared at Price.

“Really, Captain?”

Price took a long drag of his cigar.

“Answer it and I’ll tell Kate you’re on good behavior. She’ll be over the moon to hear you’re getting some social interaction.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. Laswell did not hide her hopes of getting you true comrades, not just contracted acquaintances, when she introduced you to the 141 — a hope you’d gone out of your way to quash for a long time. If a false reassurance from Price would get her mind off that ridiculous idea and focus on getting you more kill contracts…

Well, not a bad trade-off for pretending to be friends for one plane ride.

You let out a sigh from deep within your soul, opened your laptop again, and pulled up the report. Almost mindlessly, you spoke whatever came to your mind at that very moment, not knowing how badly it would change the 141.

“Sure.”

God, you could feel the whole plane lean in with anticipation.

“Never had the time to fall in love, but…” 

You mentally shrugged. This was fine to admit, right?

“... I was briefly interested in one of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You popped on your headphones, leaving the boys to dwell with that answer.

The plane couldn’t have gone any faster.

◈ GAZ

Interested? Like, interested-interested?

There was no getting you out of those headphones—he’d tried before, didn’t end well. The entire task force was stunned silent for a minute, each one picking apart your casual admission and grappling with the idea of Oh God, is it me?

It was Soap who broke first, exploding into a shocked yell that boomed throughout the tiny plane. That shook Gaz out of his stunned silence, but he still blinked rapidly as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said.

Interested. In one of them.

There was a one in four chance that it was him. Five, if Laswell counted, but he was certain that you saw her more as a mentor and confidant than a romantic prospect. Besides, she wasn’t even in the plane. It was between him, Soap, LT, and the Captain, and this was a battle royale he was keen on winning.

Gaz wasn’t blind. He was the first to notice the changing opinions of his teammates on you. Bearing the combined advantage of brains and emotional awareness, things the 141 usually lacked one or the other of, he picked up on Price’s constant attention towards you that increasingly felt less like a professional checkup. He knew about Ghost’s rivalry with you that brought a tinge of tenderness to his gruff exterior as he complimented your skill. And who could miss Soap locking onto you like a missile from day one?

But it had to be him, right? He was the only one you spoke to of your own accord, the one whose name you called when arranging for shared night shifts. The one who’s actually been to your room (he happily ignored the fact that he was just there to fetch a report for Laswell). The one who, at a drunken night out where you’d actually gotten tipsy for once, you’d stuck to like glue, no matter how rowdy the pub got.

Gaz was your first defender in the 141. When even Price was wary of your cold nature and mercenary background, Gaz was always up at arms, ready to express the simple truth that you were just a professional, and Price could look at Ghost for an example, couldn’t he? Always jumping the gun, fighting back even Soap’s teases at your expense simply because you weren’t present to defend your attitude and the unfairness of their assumptions felt real to Gaz. They didn’t see the you he saw. They just had to.

You were soft around him. Safe. And Gaz felt the same way, too. As much as you’d listen to his ramblings of whatever’s going on in his life, he looked forward to your own stories, hanging off of every rough-toned word as you shared your wisdom from past fights and your assessment of his skills, which he’d known was your way of caring for him. Making sure that he’d live long to fight good.

“In another world,” he’d said one night as you watched the last hours of your watch tick away. “Would you be back on the field again? If you had a choice to walk away from all this, live a normal life?”

Back then, your moonlit expression was intense, but sorrowful as you considered your answer. Gaz thought that you were only being sincere in answering him when you’d gazed deep into his eyes, but now, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant something else when you replied:

“I don’t know. Where would you be?”

“Dunno either. Always wanted to protect people. Make some real change. Don’t think I’d handle being an artist or bloody stockbroker all my life.”

He was so fucking stupid. Why didn’t he actually listen to what you’d said when he was too busy imagining living some alternate life, when you were right in front of him and so close?

You smelled nice.

“Then I’ll follow you back to the fight, Kyle.”

“Aw mate, I’ll look forward to it, yeah?”

The memory, the regrets, and the what-could’ve-been’s swirled in Gaz’s mind and stung at his eyes.

He wanted to look at you again, but he wasn’t going to risk anyone seeing his face right now with how he’s feeling.

He was a bloody moron, and he lost his chance.

◈ SOAP

“Yer taking the piss!”

Laughter was always Johnny’s first response. Little Johnny-boy giggling nervously as his mother demanded to know where he’d been after playing outside until dark. Freshly-recruited MacTavish snickering as he far surpassed the other recruits in exercises, again, to their dismay. Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish cackling with delight and adrenaline as he fired off the C4, lighting up the battlefield with plumes of orange fire.

Laughter was also a defense mechanism: difficult personalities, hard questions, bad days. Heal it or shrug it off, Soap was never one to make things more complicated than they should be.

This laughter… he wasn’t sure if it was one of joy or nerves.

You were interested. Were, he tried to remind himself, but his mind kept on latching onto the ‘interested’ part. One of them—which could’ve been him. 

He was delusional now, flailing around and being the jokester when it was all just an act to hide his inner turmoil. Fuck, did you know that he had it bad for you? It was his fault for not bothering to hide it and trailing after you, but he thought that you already shrugged it off as a joke. Did… did you take him seriously, after all?

Or worse, what if it wasn’t him? 

His glance went to Gaz, remembering how he’d fallen asleep on the truck that one time and accidentally leaned on your shoulder, how you stiffened, then slowly settled down, even adjusting your shoulder for the entire two-hour drive. How, no matter the situation or your mood, you always called upon Gaz with a decidedly softer tone than the one you used on him.

Surely, he wasn’t that attached to you. You were comrades, a passing fancy wouldn’t hurt anything.

He’d never seen LT smile, ever. Part of it’s the mask, but it was clear in his voice and the lack of crinkling around his eyes that smiling wasn’t his thing. But then Ghost and you had that sniper competition, dragged Soap in to referee, and when you hit dead-center for all moving targets, Soap wrenched his gaze away to catch a shine of something in Ghost’s eyes as he watched you.

Friends and professionals. That was all you were, right?

“Good health makes good men, MacTavish,” you said sharply as he sat up on his bed. Soap was forced into the medbay after a particularly grueling op. Long, sleepless nights, absolute hellfire, and blood loss all culminated in him passing out from shock mid-battle. His memories of the exact moment he collapsed were hazy, but he knew that he heard someone call his name in a choked scream.

Was it Gaz who screamed then? He was always the worrywart. Soap scratched his head, wincing as pain flared up his side at the simple motion. He shot you a shining, albeit weak, grin.

“Don’t lose yer head over me, was just the one time.”

Your glare narrowed.

“One time is all it takes, soldier.” 

Fuck, you were calling him ‘soldier’ now? You were pissed. Soap raised his hands in surrender.

“I give, I give. I’ll take my meds a day and all that shite. No trouble from me.”

For a moment, he was expecting more scolding, admonishments of his recklessness or a possible lack of skill. A “stop dragging the rest of us down with you,” considering your pride in your own battle prowess. But he got no such thing.

You sighed, looking a thousand nights older as you did, and he caught the marks of sleepless nights under your eyes. The roughness of your hands as you held his good shoulder. The miniscule caress of your thumb that he assumed (back then) was purely accidental.

“Make good on that, Johnny,” you whispered, gaze drifting off elsewhere. “You have to.”

Your voice was hoarse—why? When you left and the medic had taken your place, refreshing Soap’s bandages, he asked about how long he was out.

“Three days, sergeant,” the medic replied. “And your scary friend insisted on staying here for all of it. Tended to you like one of our own staff.”

“Psh, LT? Knew he was soft.”

“No, no, not the lieutenant. Your PMC friend.”

Without even thinking about it, Johnny laughed.

◈ GHOST

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the mindless gossip, and anyone who’d say otherwise will have months of latrine duty awaiting them. Gaz calling your name piqued his attention, but only barely, and brought a tickle of amusement when he asked you such a ridiculous question.

He was much less amused at your answer.

It was sarcastic, he tried to reason. Spouting off bullshit to keep the boys off your trail and get back to work as soon as possible. That’s what you’re always like, and that’s what he liked about you.

He also liked your shots. The pride you took in your expertise. The devotion to your warcraft. How you always took his challenges as if your name was on the line. How you’d smirk if you won, or promise comeuppance if you lost.

He liked your loyalty to Laswell — and envied it. You obeyed him and Price, yes, but he would never forget the brief gleam of admiration when the boys asked you about Laswell over lunch. He liked and envied your closeness with Gaz: a sign that you might be a true ally of the 141 after all, but a closeness that he wondered if you could extend to anyone else. He respected your ferocious protectiveness of Soap when he’d (stupidly) collapsed mid-battle, but watching you tend to Soap for nights on end wrenched something awful from within his chest.

You were a shade more casual with Price. According to the captain, you had some snark to you when not in work mode: a privilege Price had gotten purely because you were both friends of Laswell. You bonded with Price like you were fellow leaders, people down similar paths instead of mere colleagues, and when planning missions, you and Price made up a tactical machine to be reckoned with.

It was whenever he’d deliver late night reports to Price’s office, that he’d listen before knocking on the door. Muffled conversation—most of it Price’s, but every so often, there was a quick chuckle that wasn’t his, or a quiet snark followed by Price’s gravelly laughter. The office would be thick with cigar smoke when Ghost was allowed in, but what was harder to swallow was the cigar hanging from your lips that you’d returned to Price, and he’d popped it between his teeth without question.

Ghost was in deep. He’d never admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but he was. That chilling, anxiety-inducing truth nudged at the back of his head as he silently watched Soap cackle and holler throughout the plane while you intentionally ignored them, eyes trained on your report like your life depended on it.

You and the laptop. A familiar sight when he’d pass by the rec room on late nights, where you’d be tapping away at the laptop with stacks of coffee cups and energy bars littered across the table.

“Bloody hell, that can’t wait until tomorrow?” He’d asked, exasperated, by the fifth night.

You took a moment more to work before responding.

“The mob won’t wait for tomorrow. This mission needs to go down tonight.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

He didn’t know why he stayed there with you, sharing the couch as he made tea for two and set a cup beside you without a word. He could have actually tucked in for the night, gotten some well-deserved sleep lest he be grouchier than ever for the next day’s training drills. Or popped open a book if he felt like it. Anything more productive than sit beside you all night as you silently blazed through reports and phone calls, arranging operations that he had no business in caring about.

You were exhausted, but you were determined and alert as you ferried reports on the trafficking ring takedown. The calm, effortless strength in your voice as you spoke—sometimes strongly—with operatives much higher up the chain than you, because you knew what you were doing and were going to see this op to the end. A flicker of silent gratitude as Ghost refilled your tea again and tidied up your makeshift workspace.

A call by the first sliver of sunrise made you sag into the couch with relief.

“Mission accomplished?” Ghost asked.

You slid your tired gaze to him, and this close to you, he caught your tiny, sleepy grin.

“G’job, LT,” you murmured, voice thick with lethargy. “Mmh… needta phone Kate…”

“I’ll do it.”

“Not your op.”

“Don’t think Laswell’d understand a word of what you’re saying right now. C’mon, let’s get you some rest.”

He beckoned for you to stand up, only to hear a soft, muffled snore. You… were sleeping, knocked-out dead, with a hint of your grin remaining, probably dreaming about a job well done. Disheveled, snoring, and surrounded in loose notes and coffee stains, you were far from the cold professional that you normally made yourself to be.

The rec room was no place for sleeping. Soap would be here any minute, booming and hollering as him and Gaz would raid the fridge, again. You needed to be anywhere else.

And if Ghost was going to carry you in his arms all the way back to your room and go through the trouble of arranging for your sudden day-off, then he was going to do it silently, and pretend it never happened when you approached him the next day.

◈ PRICE

That… was a surprise.

While Price was the most privy to your story as your commanding officer and, more importantly, Laswell’s friend, much of your life was still a mystery to him. Laswell only gave him a few pointers: “They’ve had a long life, John,” and “Trust is a double-edged sword for them.”

He could guess when you entered Laswell’s life. It was some years ago, when she was busier than ever, to the point that he’d considered staging an intervention alongside her wife when Laswell refused with fire in her eyes. She was fighting for something, he could tell, but he didn’t know what exactly until she told him about you.

Somewhere in the gaps between what little he knew about you, Price hoped you had some normalcy to your life. Enough memories on hand to look back fondly upon, to carry you through the darker days. Yet he had a feeling that you had little of such memories to yourself. Perhaps, that was why he decided to share with you some of his own.

Foolishness in his youth. Summers from his wilder days. Dreams he’d had and lost, but never mourned—the kinds of men he’d wanted to become before making peace with himself. You understood, somehow: you were an old soul, no matter your age, a wealth of experiences and wisdom in you with just as many unanswered questions.

You can be safe with me, his soul all but screamed in your nightly chats. The doubt and fear and sorrow layered on your shoulders like dust was easy for him to see when he could feel the same thing. You weren’t delicate, not by a long shot. You were one of the strongest people he knew, but there was nothing Price could do to stifle the yearning in his chest to hold you, let you rest in his shadow and believe for once that everything was going to be alright.

“Do you have any interest in living long, sir?” You muttered as Price brought out his first cigar of the night. He wouldn’t be smoking this early in the night, but he had to deal with higher-ups and red tape all day just for some damn clearance. You were the only person he’d actually looked forward to speaking with that day.

“Smoking won’t kill me, Azrael—” You scoffed, then. “—it’s the bloody Pentagon that will.”

“And the UN. And the UK.”

“If the boys don’t get to me first. Where’s my lighter?”

“Here you go.” You didn’t have his lighter, but you had your own up and ready.

“Picked up the habit, did you?”

“No. You’ve lost your lighter enough times that I bought one myself.”

He offered you a gruff thanks and sank into his chair, watching the smoke swirl up to the amber light. You leaned back on his desk, your body barely brushing his—something that he was used to by then that he was second-guessing now.

It was beautiful and terrible, how close his hand was to yours.

Stupid stories made you laugh, but not foolish ones. Your concern for the boys was evident even in simple retellings of the past; a fact that burned in his heart when he noticed. So he told you about how Gaz tried to fix a leaky shower only to explode the entire camp’s plumbing system, he clung to your brief chuckle like a lifeline. The mirth lighting up your face was going to be his second addiction.

“Want to try, soldier?” He asked as he held out his cigar, not for the first time.

“Just this once. If it’s ass, you’re not getting another light out of me.”

He was going to offer you a new one, but you’d taken the one he’d been smoking and casually placed it between your lips, as if the very sight hadn’t made the blood roar in Price’s ears. You frowned at the taste—he laughed, ignored the flush of heat across his body.

A knock on the door: Simon, turning in his papers. He froze when he saw you and Price, and though obscured by his mask, Price knew the lieutenant well enough to recognize the hesitation in his steps.

Why did he do it?—Price wondered now as he recalled that night, how you’d returned the cigar and he, without thinking, popped it right back to his mouth in front of Simon. And why did he feel proud?

But Price had to hold himself in check. As captain, he had boundaries that he mustn’t cross. The team’s well-being was his top priority, that was always the truth of it, and as he watched the boys dwell in the fallout of your shocking admission, he had no place in making this rivalry worse, no matter how he felt about you.

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

series masterlist

12. Sweetest Devotion

And there is something 'bout the way you love me that finally feels like home. You're my light, you're my darkness. You're the right kind of madness

The next couple of weeks flew by, and Maryse had been so caught up in everything—work, life, and planning their new home—that she hadn’t even noticed she was running low on birth control. Jack wasn’t exactly consistent with the pull-out method, and the pill had always helped regulate her periods. It had been a busy time, so when she went in for a routine check-up and to get her prescription refilled, she didn’t think much of it.

Sitting on the exam table, Maryse waited for her doctor, casually scrolling through her phone. When the nurse walked in with a bright smile and said, “Congratulations on your pregnancy!” Maryse’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

She looked up, eyes wide, and immediately shook her head. “No, no… I’m not pregnant,” she stammered, her mind racing.

The nurse looked puzzled, glancing back at the chart. “The test we ran earlier came back positive. Maybe there’s been a mix-up… let me get the doctor.”

As the nurse left to find the doctor, Maryse sat there in shock, her thoughts a whirlwind. Trying to think back over the past few weeks. She hadn’t felt sick, there were no signs of morning sickness, no unusual fatigue, and nothing that stood out to her as a sign of pregnancy. Everything had seemed normal—well, as normal as life could be with everything going on.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Maybe it was just a mix-up. That had to be it.

The door opened again, and this time the nurse returned with the doctor. They both had the same concerned but gentle expressions, which only made Maryse’s anxiety spike.

The doctor approached her with the chart in hand. “I’m sure this is quite a shock,” she began, her voice calm and reassuring, “but we ran the test twice to be certain. And both came back positive. Maryse, you’re indeed pregnant.”

The words hit Maryse like a freight train. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her pulse quicken. This wasn’t something she had been expecting—at all.

“But… I don’t feel pregnant,” Maryse managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. “I haven’t felt sick or anything.”

The doctor nodded understandingly. “Not everyone experiences the classic symptoms right away. Some women don’t even realize they’re pregnant for a few months. It’s possible that your body just hasn’t started to show those signs yet.”

This wasn’t how she imagined finding out—so unprepared, in the middle of everything else going on. But there it was, the undeniable truth. She was pregnant.

The doctor’s words become a blur as they hand Maryse a stack of pamphlets about pregnancy care, her next steps, and what to expect. She nods absentmindedly, feeling as though she’s moving through the motions without fully comprehending what’s happening. They schedule her next appointment, but it all feels like it’s happening to someone else, not her.

When Maryse arrived home, she felt a wave of relief wash over her as she noticed that Jack wasn’t home yet. The house was quiet, giving her the perfect opportunity to process everything on her own. She slipped off her shoes and hurried to the bathroom, her heart pounding in her chest.

Standing in front of the mirror, she hesitated for a moment before lifting her shirt. She stared at her reflection, her eyes searching for any sign of a change. Her stomach looked the same as always—flat, with no hint of a bump. But the knowledge that she was pregnant now made her look at herself differently. It was surreal, almost as if she was expecting to see something that wasn’t there yet.

She placed her hand over her belly, feeling the smooth skin beneath her fingertips. There was a tiny life growing inside her, something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around. Her thoughts raced, thinking about how this would change everything—her life, her career, her relationship with Jack.

She pulled her shirt back down and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. There was so much to think about, so much to plan, but for now, all she could do was take it one step at a time. And the first step was figuring out how to tell Jack, whenever she was ready for that.

Maryse places her hands gently on her stomach once more, imagining the tiny life growing inside her. A wave of joy washes over her, and she can’t help but giggle. The thought of becoming a mother fills her with a warmth she’s never known before. It’s a new kind of happiness, one that feels bigger and more profound than anything she’s experienced

As she was leaving the bathroom, she heard the front door open and close, meaning Jack was home. Maryse tries her best to act normal but the excitement and nerves swirling inside her make it difficult. She greets Jack with a smile, leaning in for a kiss, but she’s sure he can feel the slight tremble in her hands as they brush against his chest.

“Hey, how was your day?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady as she follows him into the living room. She watches him closely, hoping he doesn’t notice the way her eyes keep flicking down to her stomach or how she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

Jack gives her a long look, his brows furrowing slightly. “It was alright,” he replies, a note of suspicion in his voice. “What about you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” she answers a little too quickly. She clears her throat and tries again. “I mean, yeah, just a normal day. Took the dog out, ran a few errands. Nothing special.”

But even as the words leave her mouth, she knows she’s not convincing him. She can see it in the way his eyes narrow slightly, the way his head tilts as if he’s trying to figure out what’s off. Jack is too in tune with her, too aware of her moods to miss the subtle signs.

“Uh-huh,” he says slowly, watching her as he takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. “You sure there’s nothing else going on? You’re acting a little… weird.”

She forces a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Weird? No way, I’m just tired, that’s all. Maybe we should just order in tonight and relax.”

Jack doesn’t press her further, but she can tell he’s not convinced. As they settle onto the couch, she tries to focus on the show they’re watching, but her mind is racing. She can feel his eyes on her every now and then, like he’s waiting for her to slip up, to reveal whatever she’s hiding.

The secret feels heavier than ever now that Jack was home, it takes everything in Maryse not to blurt it out right then and there. Every time Jack reaches for her hand or leans in to whisper something in her ear, she feels a little thrill of anticipation mixed with anxiety. But for now, she keeps her secret, hoping she can hold it in just a little longer.

Later that night, Jack found himself tossing and turning in bed unable to shake the feeling that something was off with Maryse. She’d been so fidgety and distracted all evening, barely able to meet his eyes. He had been with her long enough to know when something was on her mind, and this was more than just being tired.

By morning, the uneasy feeling was gnawing at him. He decided he needed to talk to someone about it, someone who could help him make sense of what was going on. Without overthinking it, he grabbed his phone and texted his Urban, asking if he could swing by his place.

When he arrived, his Urban greeted him with a concerned look, already sensing that something was up. They settled onto the couch, and Jack wasted no time getting to the point.

“Man, I don’t know what’s going on with her,” Jack started, running a hand over his face. “She’s been acting really weird lately. Like, super jumpy, and she’s trying so hard to act normal, but I can tell something’s bothering her.”

Urban leaned back, crossing his arms as he listened. “Weird how? Like, does she seem upset or more… I don’t know, nervous?”

Jack shook his head, clearly frustrated. “It’s hard to explain. She’s not upset, I don’t think. It’s more like she’s… distracted, you know? Like her mind’s somewhere else. And when I asked her about it, she just brushed it off. But I can tell something’s up.”

Urban nodded slowly, considering this. “You think it’s something to do with everything that’s been going on? Like, the stress of getting back to work and all that?”

“Maybe,” Jack said, though he didn’t sound convinced. ���But I don’t know, man. It feels different. And she hasn’t really been herself since I got home last night. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s definitely off.”

He was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you thought about just sitting her down and talking to her? Like, really talking to her, not just asking if she’s okay?”

Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but I don’t want to push her if she’s not ready to talk. I just wish I knew what was going on in her head.”

Urban offered a reassuring smile. “You know her better than anyone. If something’s bothering her, she’ll tell you when she’s ready. Just give her some time. But if it’s really eating at you, maybe just try to be there for her without prying too much.”

Jack nodded, though he still looked troubled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just… I don’t like not knowing what’s going on. It makes me feel helpless, you know?”

Urban clapped him on the shoulder. “I get it, man. But you’re doing the right thing by giving her space. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

Jack gave a small smile, though the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes. “Thanks, man. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, just relax before you start getting grey hairs.”

Jack laughed before reaching over to punch Urban in the arm, feeling a little better after talking it out. He just hoped that whatever was on Maryse’s mind, she’d be ready to share it with him soon. Until then, he’d do his best to be patient and supportive, even if it drove him a little crazy not knowing.

***

Days later, Jack and Maryse were in LA for the Color Purple movie premiere. As Maryse was getting ready she started to feel self conscious about her body, wondering if anyone would notice any changes.

Every glance in the mirror feels like a test—Maryse examines her figure, wondering if there’s any hint of a baby bump.The thought of being a mom brings a rush of happiness, but also a wave of fear about how she’ll manage everything in her already hectic life.

Maryse takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She knows Jack will be by her side through all of this, and she can’t wait to tell him, but for now, she has to focus on the premiere. But as she gets ready, her mind keeps drifting back to the baby, to how Jack will react, and to the daunting task of balancing her career and motherhood. It’s a lot to process, but she’s determined to keep it together, at least for tonight.

She continues adjusting her dress trying to push away her worries when Jack steps up behind her. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder and leans in, his voice low and full of affection. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, his gaze sweeping over her with pride. “You’re glowing and you’re wearing my favorite color.”

Her heart skips a beat at his words. She feels a rush of warmth, the urge to spill everything, to tell him about the baby, to share the news that’s been swirling in her mind since she found out. But as she looks around the hotel room, filled with stylists, makeup artists, and assistants buzzing around, she knows now isn’t the right time.

Maryse forces a smile, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice a little shaky. She can feel the weight of the secret she’s holding, the excitement mixed with anxiety, and it takes everything in her not to just blurt it out. Instead, she turns back to the mirror, taking another deep breath to steady herself, and reminding herself that there will be a perfect moment to tell him—just not yet.

But it’s hard, so hard, not to let it slip when he looks at her like that, with so much love. She knows he senses something, but for now, she has to keep it together, at least until they have a moment alone.

Maryse walked the red carpet, the cameras flashing from every direction, she felt a mix of emotions—nervousness, and excitement.

It was her first public appearance since everything had happened, and the weight of it was heavy on her shoulders. But she also felt a strange sense of pride. This was her movie, her moment, and despite everything, she was here, standing tall.

Jack stayed a few steps behind her, watching her closely. He admired how she handled the pressure, how she smiled and waved at the cameras, even though he knew she was nervous. He wanted to be there for her, to support her in any way he could. But he also wanted to let her have her moment in the spotlight.

As Maryse posed for photos, she glanced back and caught his eye. There was something in her expression—an unspoken request. She subtly held out her hand, her fingers reaching for him. Jack didn’t hesitate. He walked up to her and took her hand, standing by her side as the cameras continued to click away.

Jack knew how much this moment meant to Maryse, especially after everything she’d been through. And even though she was the star tonight, she didn’t want to do it without him by her side.

As Jack looked down at Maryse, his eyes filled with pride and love, he said, “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” His words were soft, almost drowned out by the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd, but they reached her heart.

Maryse, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the weight of the moment, looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a deep breath, and whispered back, “I’m pregnant.”

Time seemed to slow down as Jack processed her words. The world around them faded away, and all he could focus on was the woman standing before him, glowing not just from the lights of the cameras but from the life they had created together.

His eyes widening in surprise as her words sank in. He felt a rush of emotions all at once—shock, joy, love, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. His hand instinctively tightened around hers, and he blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. They were surrounded by flashing cameras and the press, and he knew he had to hold it together.

But as he looked at Maryse, the woman he loved more than anything, standing there with that secret smile and a quiet strength, it took everything in him not to break down right then and there. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to hers for a brief moment, whispering, “I can’t believe it… I’m so happy, baby.”

As soon as they stepped inside the venue, away from the flashing lights and prying eyes, Jack couldn’t hold back any longer. He gently tugged Maryse to a quieter corner, his heart racing with excitement and disbelief. Without a second thought, he scooped her up in his arms, her elegant dress swirling around them as he lifted her off the ground.

“Is it true?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he searched her eyes for confirmation. “Are we really having a baby?”

Maryse’s smile widened, her hands cupping his face as she nodded. “Yes, it’s true. We’re going to be parents.”

Jack let out a shaky breath, his eyes filling with tears as he hugged her tightly, not caring about the possibility of wrinkling her dress or the fact that they were still in a public space. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck. “I love you so much. I’m gonna take such good care of both of you.”

Maryse held onto him just as tightly, feeling a wave of love wash over her as they shared this incredible moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their own bubble of happiness.

After the premiere, they were absolutely giddy, exchanging secret smiles and soft laughter that made the entire night feel magical. Every glance between them was filled with unspoken excitement and the shared knowledge that something incredible was unfolding.

When they finally got home, still riding the high of the evening, Jack couldn’t resist dropping to his knees in front of Maryse, his hands gently resting on her flat stomach. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and tenderness. “I know you’re not big enough for us to see yet, but I already love you so much. Your mom and I can’t wait to meet you.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh softly, her fingers threading through his hair as she watched him talk to their baby. “You know, they can’t hear you yet,” she teased, though her heart swelled at the sight of him being so sweet and caring.

Jack grinned up at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, planting a kiss on her stomach. “I’m gonna make sure they know my voice from day one.” He kissed her stomach again, this time with more reverence. “And you,” he added, looking up at her with nothing but love in his eyes, “are going to be the best mom.”

Maryse’s heart melted at his words, tears welling up in her eyes as she bent down to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“I love you more,” Jack replied, standing up to pull her into his arms. “We’re going to be the best parents, I promise.”

They spent the rest of the night talking about their hopes and dreams for the baby, laughing and imagining what the future would hold. Every moment felt perfect, and they couldn’t wait to see where this new chapter in their lives would take them.

***

an: GO CRAZYYYYYYY 🥰🥰🥰

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[sevs-corner]

Another quick shot ideas on- Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Link to Prev parts:

Currently on Ch 2- Mini Epilogue, and you can find it here :D 👇

A/N: 1st Edit of adding onto Price’s part + the other TF 141 boiyos will get their own on a separate post✨

So here’s the sitch folks

Price👏has👏the👏moola

Which means that he will not hesitate to spend it all for you

But he keeps it lowkey, he isn’t the show-y type (cough Soap cough)

So he starts slow, aside from giving you his apparels, he wants to give something to call your own

But if he asks what you want, you’d suspect him

‘Smart sweetie,’ he thinks, whenever he sees you give him that inquisitive look

Eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk

If only you knew the things you do to this man behind closed doors

He starts giving you simple stuff, a bracelet - something that was sleek in design but had good value (both sentimentally and economically)

Because, when he gave that bracelet to you

It was the day he, tells himself this, officially fell for you- wanting to do his damnest to court you however possible way he can

Imagine a cold December, the worst possible season ever for you.

You hate the cold, as much as how it cool it becomes when the rain rolls in and rattles your bones.

No, you’re not old, just weary.

You always hated the rain, but why- as you stood hand-in-hand with this mafia boss- did you want the rain to continue.

Currently, you were running through the rain with him, laughing all the way until you found a tiny closed up shop with an awning over it.

Pointing at it with a quick, “over there! Som cover!”

Price nods and speeds up his pace, making you squeal— complaining that he should slow down or you’ll both slip but he insists.

“I’ll catch you,” he says so reassuringly, “don’t worry.”

And you didn’t.

Even when you both slid under the awning, with you almost slipping past-- but luckily he was there.

You then realize he is a man of his word.

Catch you he will, and catch you he did.

With his hands on your waist, you swore to yourself that you haven’t felt this more secure than ever in your life.

John Price on the other hand, was tethering-- barely able to keep his hands to himself once he got a taste on holding you in his arms.

He pulled you closer, not letting his hands leave you for a second, as he lets his inhibitions go, resulting with his arms wrapping around you securely. (That even if you did try to escape you wouldn't be able to- not like you wanted to anyways.)

Once he fells no resistance coming from you, he breathes in deep, trying to live in the moment as much as possible as you relax in his hold- both of your giggles dying out and letting the patter of rain consume space instead.

"You know," you whisper, "I hate the rain."

You could feel Price's chest rumble, and his voice respond right next to your ear.

"I know that, lovie."

You let that stew in you, humming out a reply that just came to the top of your head.

"But I don't hate it right now."

Price wanted to ask why, but he knew-- inside he knew why you didn't at that moment. Though it didn't feel right to voice his thoughts at the moment and simply holds you closer instead, hoping to reassure you through it that,

'its okay to hate things most of the time, but then like it when you're with someone.'

And he thinks to himself, maybe... it was like that with you too.

He never liked going out on dates- he never had time for those frivolous things.

He wasn't a gift giver, but always found himself giving you whatever you wanted or needed.

He wasn't a lover, but damned the world and his existence would be if he couldn't find himself not to love you.

Squeezing his arms close to you made him snap back to his reality, the reality that you were in arms-reach.

And that tether?

Now fully loose and wrapped around you-- just as his arms are.

Once you arrived back at your apartment, John knew that now was the right time.

So he tugs at your coat from the bottom of the stairs, barely able to catch you before you leave his sight.

“Hey.”

He watches you turn around, a crooked smile on your face as you copy him.

“Hey?”

“I-,” he stumbles, “-could you..?”

He lips feels dry, the saliva he gulps becomes hard to do with his throat feeling like sandpaper, his hands get clammy and he has to shove it down his pocket to avoid you seeing it shake.

You stare at him, head tilted as you return back his words to him- hoping to coax out whatever he wanted to get out.

“Could I..?”

With a deep breath, he forces eye contact with and asks,

“Will you accept this?”

From deep within the recess of his pocket, he hands you a small dark navy leathered covered box, gold engraving on its front— and it made you pause.

“John…” you step down the stairs to stand chest to chest with him, “…what’s this for?”

You wrapped your hands around his, entrapping the box between his hands.

If there was moment in his life where he felt his heart drop in- this would be the number one.

What if he overstepped—?

Moved too soon, way too early? Fuck- he just messed up didn’t he-?

“John?”

But your voice forces him to resurface from the deep spiral and he shakes his head. Splitting him from fantasy and reality.

He tries to ground himself further by dropping his head to lock eyes with you, and he swore that the stars still shined in them, just as the day he met you.

“I,” he licks his chapped lips, “I thought of you when I saw this.”

You released his hands for him to open it and once he did, you gasped, eyes snapping back and forth from the silver bracelet and his face- oh his face.

It was so twinged in nervousness but at the same time, a sense of softness and vulnerability that you instinctively knew that he never shows this kind of side of him to anyone.

“I got a couple of charms on it,” he points out with a chuckle, “thought it’d be nice to add onto it whenever we go to places.”

“Like a keepsake…” you mutter, thoughts unable to be kept within as you feel your chest tighten.

He nods, “precisely.”

“And this,” he points to the rain droplet charm, “will be a reminder of today.”

Any thought that came onto your brain was incoherent and words, if it were to be spoken right now, felt too cheap to say.

So you settle for a hug, one so tight and comforting that Price greedily wishes that he could be in it forevermore.

Eventually you had to let go, dry your eyes, and tuck in for the night.

“John!”

You call out one last time by your window, and said man turns, his usual smile softened by the glow of the moon.

“I kinda like the rain now!”

His laughter resounds through the night as he carries your words next to his heart.

‘One day,’ he thinks to himself, ‘one day we’ll get to fill up that bracelet.’

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 20

I literally got second-hand anxiety hearing, “How many numbers do you think you’ll have by tomorrow?”. I was like. TOMORROW? They are Not ready. The only reason the rooftop works out is because they’re the fucking Beatles. No one else would pull that out of their butts so well. 

If only John could’ve listened to Glyn about Klein. smh

Classic Paul. Starts out saying “us” ends up just talking about John. “The best bit of us always has been, and always will be, is when we’re backs against the wall and we’ve been rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. And he knows it’s a take on the dub. And he does it great.” It’s okay, Paul. We all know you like to get him up against a wall. No but seriously, Paul is not okay about John. 

Takes every opportunity to flirt, doesn’t he?

“I can’t wait to work here, you know . . . I mean, here in our life, it’s like home.” It’s the gentleness, yeah. But it’s the focus, too. Most people (I know I would) would be so done with him and his anxiety spirals and his neuroses and over-thinking on and on and on by this point. John probably is, but he shows no sign of that fatigue at all. He is zeroed in on working him through this. He’s done it a million times before, and he’s ready to do it as many more times as Paul needs. Ugh, they make me into such a sap!

“Yeah, well that’s why I’m talking to John, not you.” If Paul can talk like that to George Martin, one of the most respected men in his life, when he’s in the middle of a thing with John, imagine how he must’ve bullied other people that tried to worm their way in. 

That smile he gives George though! That’s how he got away with all his shit, isn’t it? So fucking cute.

“I agree with you, I think it’s disappointing, but all right, we only got to seven. Let’s do seven.” The tone of voice, man. So. Fucking. Gentle. No wonder Paul can't stand the projected "acerbic, tough Lennon" shit. If that was how someone treated you and took care of you? And then everyone acts like that part of them just didn't exist, and emphasizes the parts of them that they themselves hated and actively worked against? Yeah I'd be pretty pissed too.

Glyn reassuring Paul that there’s no reason they can’t come back and do a TV show later. Yeah, fifty years later. 

John’s eyes constantly flicking back to Paul as George is talking . . . 

George really does take so much better care of himself than the other three at this time. Pictured here, silently begging viewers like you to chip in just ninety-eight cents toward his freedom.

I actually think, though, that if Ringo had said he didn’t want to go on the roof either at that moment, that they wouldn’t have done it. I think they look to him for common sense in their decision-making, and Ringo saying he didn’t want to do it really might’ve broken the whole thing.

George’s reaction to Ringo voting for the roof VS John. It’s giving tragic heroine VS villain origin story

Honestly heartbroken at the “I love you, blue”. How many times did John just straight up say those words to Paul only for Paul to be completely unresponsive? That genuinely hurt to watch.

The tiny little looks they give each other. “Okay. We got this.”

“Fuck all that. I’m just gonna do me for a bit.” Good for you, baby. 

“I had a good dream last night, you’re black or you’re white, you want equal rights.” I know some people say it’s hypocritical or preachy or whatever, but I ADORE this John. Look how fucking happy he’s making Billy right now and then talk to me about how John’s political side is meaningless. I think it’s beautiful.

I think it’s actually too embarrassing for them at this point to sing Two of Us without being insane.

“We’re all sleeping at Georgie’s tonight. Get in the mood.” Oh how I wish they actually had. I mean, maybe they did. Someone write the fic!

Oh, the “who knows, Yoko,” moment. It’s so embarrassing. The fact that there was just no response whatsoever. Yeesh. 

So many nerves when I saw the camera zooming into that circled date with “Rooftop Concert” written on it. What is wrong with me?

[plaguedocboi]

My renewed digging into murder/harm water has reminded me a not life threatening but very unpleasant (and extremely unlucky) experience I had as a young teen on a beach in Forster, NSW, Australia that I think further solidified my already felt unease at being in the ocean specifically.

You’d think not being in the water would mean you’re all good. Turned out hope.

Went for a walk with family late morning along the beach and nothing sus going on at all, there were people swimming in the water, kids playing on the sand, a pod of dolphins hanging out a couple meters off the shore and no danger in sight.

So I decide I’m gonna be brave and walk close enough to the water that the waves coming up just barely go over my feet.

All is good for ~5 minutes until suddenly completely out of nowhere I feel a blinding pain shoot up my whole right leg.

Now some context here is I have some weird genetic thing where I straight up cannot feel all but the worst of physical pain (as in I’ve literally had major chest and abdominal surgery and not once felt any pain or discomfort) and so for me to have felt that level of pain my brain immediately interpreted it as ‘oh fuck my leg has been taken clean off and I’m dying’

I still remember my physical response was to do that same little leap/hop manauver startled emus do which did get me well clear of the water and when I look down there’s the culprit.

Of all the places along this beach for it to wash up I had a man o war wrapped around my foot and ankle.

Now I know we have two sorts of jellyfish here that can and will kill you and I knew that one was very tiny (irukanji) and one was larger but in that moment I couldn’t recall whether that larger one was man o war or box jelly so there I am thinking I’m going to straight up die so I’m losing it as we head back up the beach and I remember as we’re heading back it’s almost like I’m losing muscle sensation in that leg so I’m half dragging the leg along the sand as we go.

Lucked out and happened to be near a lifeguard station and got some good advice and reassurance that man o war are the less deadly one and to just use running water to wash it and it’s stinging tentacles off then submerge the sting site in water as hot as I can handle and kee it submerged because heat breaks down marine creature venom so it’ll take the pain away.

After that I’ve always kept a close eye out for these things washed up on the beach and stay well clear of any. I definitely don’t go in water I can’t clearly see through (so basically any ocean water).

That said I saw in one of your posts mention about you’re tempted to dive again so thought I’d mention the Cook Islands is you have the resources to get there. As mentioned I won’t go in water I can’t see through but the water there is so crystal clear I’m happy to go in and there’s some amazing species there some of which you can encounter just ankle deep. (Parrotfish, triggerfish, morays, giant clams, threadfin butterflyfish, pipefish, general reef fish and I did see a spotted snake eel moving along the shallows once)

Also special mention of the glass bottom boat tours you can do there that take you to a deeper spot where you can get in with giant trevalley. (Sometimes you see turtles on the way over)

I would love to scuba dive in Australia someday (even with the jellyfish) but I had the opportunity once and chickened out so I worry the same would happen again. I did a study abroad trip in New Zealand and took a long weekend in Australia on an island off the coast of Cairns (prime Great Barrier Reef area) and I snorkeled a lot but didn’t have the courage to dive.

And yeah, those jellies sneak up on you sometimes. They’re very devious beasts.

[lu-twilights-pup]

Hello Hello!

Recently found your blog through some mutuals and holy hylia I love your art and writing! (Totally not biased because if our mutual obsession with twilight ahem)

Anyways I was inspired of your adorable twi-forehead-kisses drawing and wanted to ask- how do you think he’d react to smooches on his face? Like- cheek kisses, forehead, ears, lips 👀 (can be a head cannon, or drawing-meme style, I know you’re not open for writings right now)

aahh just thank you so much! (Don’t worry if you don’t get around to it 🥰)

This is too cute not to do!!!! Also i pormis im not dead, just slow and dying of research papers lmao.

---

Twilight's reaction to types of kisses!

DISCLAIMERS:

n/a

:readmore:

Cheek:

A classic, to give and get.

especially when hes does something fro you and you show your thanks this way,

his heart absolutely flips

Forehead:

Absolute favorite, 12/10, will always accept no matter the time or place. will 100% accept any kind of make up left on his face if his partner wears it. makes him feel loved and cherished (wolfie also enjoys these kisses the most)

Ear:

very very flustered, boys got sensitive ears,

but thankful for the love all the same.

would not allow in public though

Hand:

a little less flustered and a bit unsure,

not sure if he should kiss your hand back or not.

thinks more about the fact that you are holding his hand

Lip:

another classic.

will make his heart soar.

as close as close can be for him.

is the type to just give you 100 tiny pecks until you pull him for a full blown kiss.

Nose:

another more personal one,

will shy away the first time.

again less likely to let happen in public,

sweet moment for him and only him,

same thing with giving them. an absolute favorite to give.

Shoulder:

reserved for those special moments when he needs reassurance in the quietest way.

the first time you did it when he was having a form of spiral,

it helped ground him in reality and not what was.

now sees them as the best reassurance that he is not alone and is cared fro and loved.