#i would have been excited to pick up that floppy every month

[lambergeier]

me when i lie lol

anyways i got the first four volumes of tom taylor's nightwing from the library and this is company-sponsored fanfiction but it's soooooo cute and fun. comics: they can still be fun?

[kerie-prince]

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

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You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

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The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

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Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

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In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

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The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

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“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

—

requests open!

[thatgoblin]

Play Date

Summary: It's Date Night with Leon and Ada. You and Carlos have them over for some fun recreations.

A/N: Reader is afab for this.

Warnings: Smut, Kinks, Puppy Play, Sex Toys, Mommy-dom, Daddy-dom, oral sex, breeding kink, leather kink, bondage, spanking of all body parts.

One night a month, you and Carlos have a double date with Leon and Ada. Sometimes you two go to their home and sometimes they come to yours. That evening, Carlos and you were hosting.

You both liked to get dressed up for the occasion and this time it wasn't any different. Carlos was handsome in anything he put on, but there was something about when he wore tight fitting slacks with a button up, tie, and vest that had you wiggling in anticipation. His usually unruly hair was slicked back and his large, rough hands were covered in fitting leather gloves.

"Now, let's get you dressed, puppy," he smiled at you as he worked his hands in the gloves, the leather creaking delightfully as he made a fist. In the bedroom, he pulled open the bottom dresser drawer. You had already showered and groomed yourself appropriately, so you sat on the bed in the nude waiting for Carlos to pick out your outfit for the night. "I think it's a pretty purple collar night," he said, setting the collar on top of the dresser. A few more items were picked before he moved over to the bed with them in hand.

He hummed as he buckled the collar around your neck, making sure it was snug without choking. Then came the mitts made of black leather that would force you to have paws. Carlos made sure they were comfortable before he had you stand for the knee pads. Then came the 'x's of tape over your nipples, it made them easier for him to grab to correct your behavior if need be.

A headband with floppy ears was pressed into your hair, giving you that silly, dopey puppy look that Carlos loved.

"Okay, baby, on the bed. Tail time," he said, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Getting on all fours on the bed, your kept your ass up while resting your head on your folded arms. Hearing the bottle of lube click open, you felt the coolness of it dribble onto your tight pucker making you gasp softly before Carlos began to slowly work your rubber tail into you. "Just relax, let Daddy take care of you, Pup," he said, rubbing your lower back as he worked the tip in to start pushing in and out to stretch your hole.

You couldn't help the soft pants as he diligently worked the plug into you. It never hurt and when he was done, you couldn't help but clench around it and moan. The moment it slid into place, you couldn't help but wiggle a bit to wag it.

"Silly Pup," Carlos chuckled as he let you take a second to adjust to it. "Our friends are going to be here soon. I believe it's Leon's turn to play with you while Ada and I chat."

Pushing up to all fours, you gave an excited bark and smile. Carlos couldn't help but return the smile as he stroked your hair.

Taking the leash he'd picked out, he clipped it to your collar before whistling for you to follow. Hopping down to the floor, you went to your hands and knees, following behind him as he led you to the play room.

It looked like a living room with two sofas facing each other, side tables next to them while a thick oriental rug was in the middle of the room. On the walls were different large paintings, save for one. That wall held all the toys and punishments for your group.

From riding crops to wooden paddles to leather cuffs to vibrators galore, there was a tool or toy for everything.

Hopping up onto one of the sofas, you waited for Carlos to sit before snuggling up in his lap. He always adored having you in his lap, stroking your back and petting your head as you pressed against him. In everything you two did, you always felt safe and loved and cared for and that was why you two were together. When Ada and Leon came along, it felt easy to accept them into the fold of a relationship. The four of you would have group dates or even have a girls night and a boys night or you and Leon would spend time together while Ada and Carlos hide away somewhere. The group dynamic wasn't full proof, but you all cared enough about one enough to work through the bumps.

A sudden knock with Ada calling out had you pull from Carlos, barking at the new people.

"Shhh, you know them," Carlos said, patting your ass before having you get up.

"Give us just a moment and we'll be there!" Ada called out. They had their key to your home and you had one to theirs, making the change easier for dates like this. After all, it would be almost too difficult to travel in pup gear.

"Alright, we'll be in the play room," Carlos said as he went to the door. You were quick to follow, whining as you tried to see around his legs. "Back up, Baby. I don't want to step on you." Doing as you were told, you went back to the couch. Kneeling on it while resting your mitted hands on the back of the sofa, you watched and waited. When Ada came to the door, giving Carlos a kiss on the cheek you gave an excited bark to get her attention.

Dressed in her signature red, her dress was long and had slits on either side of her going all the way up to her waist. You could see her garters holding her stockings up in her black heels. She even wore her leather opera gloves.

"Hello, Sweetie," she cooed, coming over to you to give you a kiss on your nose. "Have you been a good puppy for Daddy?" She asked, as she stroked your hair. "Oh what a pretty collar you have. My puppy has a new one he's showing off. Come on, Puppy. Come say hi." Looking over to the door, you saw Leon on all fours with mitts and knee pads as well at Carlos' feet. The two of you matched with the purple collars and ears placed in your hair. His nipples were taped as well, but his tail was bigger than yours.

You did your best to not stare at him between his legs, wanting to have puppy play with him before things became more heated.

"Sorry," Ada sighed as Leon took his time coming into the room. "He's been fussy all day. It's a miracle we're here on time."

"It's fine," Carlos said, giving Leon's head a rub. "Mine's been excited the whole day and is hyper as hell."

"Well, maybe some of that energy will rub off on Mr. Pouts," Ada said with a snort. Getting down from the sofa, you moved around to meet Leon as Carlos closed the door behind him. While Ada and Carlos stepped over to the other sofa, you greeted Leon with a few sniffs and pants as you wiggled your tail.

Leon sniffed you back, going right to your already wet pussy to press his face to it, making you yelp in surprise.

"Leon, don't be rude," Ada said with a huff. "Play nice."

You turned back around, barking and smiling at him as you pressed your nose to his. He hummed softly, pressing back to nuzzle. Happy that he was responding to you, you led the way to the middle of the room to play with him. Carlos had dumped a few tugging toys into the middle to let you two play as he and Ada had some wine and talked.

Leon and you had a bit of tug of war, which he usually won, before rough housing a bit. The two of you took turns trying to climb on each other before he began to get more aggressive and domineering. He growled softly as he tried to mount you from behind, his cock hard as it pushed against you.

"Leon, no, down," Ada commanded, snapping her fingers. Not that Leon listened. You didn't want to play like that yet, so you growled and snapped your teeth at him as you reared back to try and get his shoulder.

"Shit," Carlos said as you and Leon began to try and bite one another while growling and barking. Ada went for your collar since you were smaller than Leon and Carlos pulled Leon back. "That wasn't nice," he said sternly, the two of you still growling till you both received swats on the ass. "Behave or we'll get the muzzles, that goes for both of you," Carlos threatened as you hung your head, whimpering at the stinging of your ass.

Leon backed down with a huff, sitting still as Carlos and Ada switched back to their proper pups.

"Don't be a mean pup," Ada said, holding Leon's chin tightly. "We can still go home early. Now go apologize."

Carlos sighed as he stroked your head, knowing you felt bad for disappointing him by fighting.

"It's okay, Baby," he said softly. "You needed that swat though because you got mean back when you know better." Whimpering you nodded as Leon came over to nuzzle you. You nuzzled him back, licking his face and neck before pressing against his side. "There, all better," Carlos said with a smile.

"Good boy, Leon," Ada said, giving him praise as she moved to give him a kiss on the head.

"Are you ready to have the other kind of play?" Carlos asked you. You yipped and nodded, pressing against Leon again as you nuzzled his shoulder. "Alright then."

"Leon, remember their cues," Ada said, moving away with Carlos to sit back and watch.

Leon leaned in towards you, catching your lips with his. You moaned softly into the kiss as you returned it. Nudging you with his body, he wanted you to lay on your back. On the carpet naked, you could feel every fiber dig into your skin. While it was nice for walking on or crawling on, the rug always gave you burns, but you liked it. Leon's head dipped between your legs without hesitation as he began to lap hungrily at your pussy.

Gasping, you bit your lip as you tried to stick to puppy noises. You whined and whimpered as he pressed his face against you with eagerness.

"Good boy," Ada purred as one of her hands was rubbing Carlos through his trousers. "Make sure they cum nice and hard before you go further."

You glanced at Carlos, your Daddy, as he watched you get your pussy eaten. He had this look on his face, something dark and tense as he leaned back in the sofa, letting Ada stroke him as his eyes stayed glued to where Leon and you connected.

Sometimes when he got that look, you would be at the mercy of his whims which meant you'd be walking funny the next day. You loved those times.

Leon didn't let you ponder on it much, his tongue diving into you to slide up and swirl around your clit. He was always good at commanding your attention when he was down there. Groaning, you kept your legs spread and your hands to yourself; puppies didn't have hands to touch themselves after all.

"Don't forget to toy with their other hole," Carlos said with a grunt. You looked up to see his cock free from his pants as Ada lifted her dress to show she'd chosen to not wear panties that evening. It was impossible to look away as Carlos' thick cock was fully hard and ready to plunge into the woman in his lap. You were jealous only because you loved that cock so much, but you would have it later.

"Oh fuck," Ada gasped as she slowly lowered herself with Carlos' help onto him.

Leon's tongue slid up and down your pussy before his teeth were pulling at your tail to tease you. You keened as he pushed it in hard, making you clench and flutter as his tongue ran around the edge of the plug. Your attention was firmly back on the man between your legs.

"Make them cum with your mouth then you can have their ass," Carlos moaned, his fingers dipping down between Ada's legs to rub her clit.

Panting, you watched as Leon looked up at you before diving back into your wet cunt. His lips latched onto your clit to suck and focus his heat there as you began to sob in need.

"That's it, baby boy," Ada moaned. "Keep going, you're almost there."

Legs shaking, you cried out as you came in Leon's mouth. He didn't stop though, no. He kept lick and sucking till you were squirming from being so sensitive. Leon didn't miss a beat as he let go of your sensitive clit to move up your body to kiss you hard. Tasting yourself on his lips, you moaned as you opened your mouth to let his tongue in. His cock was pressing into your belly, making his hips rock a bit as he growled into the kiss.

"Someone's a needy boy," Carlos said with a chuckle. Breaking the kiss, Leon was nudging you with his head to roll over. Back on all fours, you presented your ass to him, moaning as he began to pull the plug out with his teeth.

"Come here, baby, let Mommy lube that poor cock of yours," Ada said, grabbing lube from the side table. "It's so red and leaking. Poor thing." You watched as Ada dribbled the lube onto Leon's cock before stroking him to coat him fully. Leon sighed softly as he closed his eyes at her touch. "Give Mommy a quick kiss so I can taste them."

It was more than a quick kiss. It was lewd and loud and had you getting wet all over again as Ada gripped his hair tight to dominate him. Their tongues slid against one another as he passed along your essence to her.

"Good boy, now go cum in the other puppy's ass," she said before turning to Carlos behind her. You watched as they shared a just as intense kiss, knowing Carlos wanted to taste you. He looked at you as he kissed her, rubbing her clit faster as she moaned into his mouth.

He wouldn't cum in her though. Carlos was saving his need for you when Leon was through with your ass.

The other man was mounting you again, this time with consent. Leon held your hips as best he could while guiding his cock to your tight pucker. You couldn't help the twittering noise that came out of you as he pushed in. The plug you had had in you was not as big as him by far, making it burn a bit as his cock stretched you. Hanging your head, you felt him bottom out before he covered you with his body. Leon nuzzled against your neck, giving it kisses and licks and nips while you adjusted to his girth.

Not that you would complain. You loved having Leon fuck your ass. His cock was made for it. It wasn't as thick as Carlos', but it was long and reached deep inside you. The lull didn't last long as he began to draw his hips back to snap them forward, forcing a guttural moan from you.

"Good boy, fuck their ass," Ada encouraged him as she began to pant harder as Carlos sped up his fingers. Leon went slow the first first pumps before he began to get harder and faster with his thrusts. You cried out, whining as he growled in your ear, his hips slamming into yours. Sometimes you swore you could cum just from him fucking your ass.

Leon's teeth were kneading the skin on your shoulder, but knew better than to bite down or leave a mark. Your moans grew louder as you felt his thrusts stutter. He was close and would be filling you up soon. Then puppy time would be over, but the date wouldn't be. Panting, his breath hot on your face, Leon let out a small whimper before groaning loud and long. He pressed in as deep as he could, painting your insides with his cum. The two of you stayed there for a moment, catching your breath as the other two disconnected and stood up.

You could hear them picking a few things off the wall of toys and tools, but didn't bother trying to look. Leon was still inside you and coming down for his orgasm. Turning your face towards him, the two of you shared sloppy kisses and moans till Ada was pulling him off and out of your ass.

Letting out a soft moan as Leon pulled out, you weren't ready for the plug that was pushed into you, forcing a cry of surprise more than pain. It wasn't a tail plug, no, it was one meant for you to keep Leon's cum inside you.

"You did such a good job. Now let Daddy have some fun," Carlos said. He helped you out of the knee pads and mitts and ears, but left the tape and collar. Ada was doing the same for Leon, forcing him to lie on his back as she straddled his face.

"Now, make Mommy cum by licking all of Daddy out of her," she said before sitting on his face.

Carlos pulled you by the collar to the sofa where he spread his legs to let you between them. "Clean all of Mommy off of me and Daddy will fuck that tight pussy of yours, Baby," he said, smiling down at you.

All you could do was moan as you nodded, hungrily taking his cock in your mouth. Your jaw always ached after blowing him, but you couldn't get enough of him. Moaning, you licked dutifully up and down him, even going to suck on his balls. His gloved hands were in your hair as he pushed you down his length, forcing you to gag a bit before you were able to relax your throat and swallow him down.

"Fuck," he hissed, moving your mouth up and down for you. "Best cock sucker ever." You were proud of that, proud of making him cum quickly sometimes with just your mouth. "Keep going. Get all of Mommy's juice off me."

Moaning, you gripped his thighs, rubbing up and down the smooth fabric as you swirled your tongue around his head before letting him go to look up at him as you flattened your tongue to lick up his length. That dark look had become more, his pupils were blown and he looked ready to snap.

"Stand up and face the other couch with your hands behind you," Carlos growled, his hand snaking around your throat to give it a squeeze.

"Yes Daddy," you said, your voice rough. Standing, you moved around to the spot and position he wanted you. You were able to watch as Ada rode Leon's face till she was crying out in bliss, leaving his face glistening and wet. Carlos was quickly behind you, his hands pinning yours to your back as you shivered. Cuffs were buckled tightly to your wrists, leaving you vulnerable to whatever he wanted.

"Up," Ada said, panting as she unzipped her dress. Sliding out of it, she draped it carefully over the back of the other sofa. "Stand, don't move." Leon did as he was told while Ada picked up a thick dildo. It was the kind that didn't need a harness for being used, instead it slipped into Ada's pussy, allowing her to essentially have a cock. She sat on the sofa across from you and Carlos, lubing the toy up liberally before calling Leon back over. She gave Leon's tail plug a quick jerk to pull it out, forcing a choked sob from him. "Straddle Mommy."

Carlos gave your ass a swat, making you yelp before pulling you back towards him. Sitting on the sofa again, he groaned as he groped you roughly. The leather making you moan as he pushed your legs apart. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into your dripping wet cunt. You cried out and let out a shuddering moan as he worked them quickly in and out of you, only pulling them out to slap your clit.

"You make the best noises," Carlos moaned as he kept spanking your pussy all while you cried out and sobbed. He held tight, his legs keeping your open as he kept up the ass before moving to your ass.

"Daddy!" You cried out, shaking as your bottom and pussy stung.

"Mmmm," Carlos hummed as he pulled you back more, forcing you to squat in his lap.

Ada was no kinder to Leon, his hands cuffed behind him allowed her to tug and slap his cock no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

"It's Daddy's turn for fun, Baby," Carlos groaned in you ear. Moving you how he wanted, he held his cock as you sunk onto it with a deep moan. "Always so tight for me," he moaned as he nipped at your shoulder. "You want Daddy to fuck the shit out of your cunt? Hmm?" He asked, slapping your tits hard.

"Yes!" You wailed as he kept going to your chest was red. "Please Daddy, fuck my cunt."

"Good," he said with a chuckle before he gripped your waist hard and began a brutal pace. There was no lead up like Leon, no, Carlos did not have mercy. Sobbing and babbling as he fucked you, Ada had Leon on the floor. His ass was up in the air as his face was pressed to the rug. The toe of her shoe was pressed to his cheek as she fucked him ruthlessly.

"Who do you belong to?" Carlos snarled as he griped one of your tits painfully hard.

"I belong to you, Daddy," you sobbed as he let go to slap your nipple, pulling on it as well. All you could do was ride his cock and take the delicious abuse.

"Damn right," he grunted before shoving the fingers that had been inside you into your mouth, forcing you to suck on the leather that had soaked you into it. Tears ran down your face as you rode him, moaning around his fingers as you felt your orgasm closing in. "I'm gonna cum and fill you up. Your my bitch, yeah? I get to fill up your cunt with my cum. No one else."

You mumbled agreements around his fingers as his other fingers found your clit and began to rub it viciously, making you scream as you sat on the edge.

"That's right, cum on my cock. Milk Daddy's dick with that pussy of yours," Carlos snarled as you came hard. Hard enough to black out a moment as you shook and clenched tightly around Carlos, your muscles indeed milking him. Soon the room was full of people crying out as they came. Leon was back in Ada's lap, crying as she stroked his sensitive cock to completion, making him cum all over his belly and chest as she ground into him with the dildo fucking her into an orgasm. Carlos was right there too, roaring as he slammed one last time into you before shooting his load deep inside you.

"Mine," he growled into your skin as the four of you all took a moment to catch your breaths.

"Yours," you mumble as you lean back against him. His hand snaked up to grab your jaw, turning you to look at him before giving you needy and still dominating kisses as Ada and Leon mirrored you two.

As much fun as you had being used by the boys, next time you wanted to be on top.

[imagine-that-100]

Glass in the Studio

Description: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | Alex injures himself before your date which means that it’s a trip to A&E instead of a restaurant. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood & injuries?

A/N: This was requested by @supersonic-scientist​ I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. This is the first of a few drabbles coming over the next few days so enjoy. Likes and reblog are appreciated and as always, thank you to everyone who reads x

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

“Miles you really are a fucking idiot.” Alex rolls his eyes as he crouches down on the floor to pick up the now smashed Coke bottle.

“I think you’re the idiot mate. You couldn’t catch a bottle from four foot away.” Miles shakes his head.

Alex looks up at his best mate as if he’s stupid, and also chuckles a little in disbelief, “Why would you throw a half empty bottle at me from four foot away when you could have just passed it me?”

Miles mumbles something under his breath that Alex didn’t quite hear as he starts picking up the glass. There were quite a few large shards that acted as bowls for the smaller shards to sit on as Alex continued to collect the glass from the studio’s wooden floor.

The fluorescent lights that were lighting up the room were making it pretty hard for Alex to actually see the smaller pieces of glass because they blended in with the glossy floor beneath him. However, Alex thought he did quite well with what glass he’d already collected so he asked his best mate to pass the bin over.

This is something Miles does for his friend, but he’s still in a weird mood that the both of them get into when they are in the studio together. So Miles extends the small bin in his hand towards his best mate, but when Alex goes to put the glass in, Miles pulls it away.

No glass goes on the floor again because Miles never actually let Alex get that far, but it was amusing to Miles to see his best friend getting annoyed at him. So he just decided to do it one more time.

This is when tragedy struck. Alex preempted his idiot of a mate to pull his trick again so Alex lunged himself forward ensuring that the glass went in the bin this time, but as he did he threw himself off balance.

His free hand landed right on a decent sized shard of glass, cutting the small muscle on his palm that protected his thumb. And he could feel it stuck in there pretty deep.

“Fuck.” Alex seethed, picking himself up off the floor as he started seeing the blood oozing around the glass that was stuck in his hand.

~*~*~*~

You’d just finished work and you were really excited for your night ahead. You were seeing Alex later and he was taking you out on your 7th date.

You’d been friends for well over 5 years so you knew each other like the back of your hands. But only 6 months ago did you both question if you could be more than the friends you've been for ages.

And as it turns out you could.

You’d loved each and every second of seeing Alex in a romantic sense. He was a real gentleman and you were loving that he treated you like ‘his queen’.

That was a little joke of his because since he’d grown his hair out over the past 2 years after the AM tour, you'd told him that he looked like prince charming but with brown hair. And he was honestly living up to that title because he never stopped looking after you.

Your job stressed you out a lot and with Alex being back and mostly being bored before his tour came back around he was always with you. He gave you a lovely distraction from what your life normally was and he lit you back up again.

You’d really fallen hard for him. And he for you.

That’s why your heart stopped in your chest when you got in the car and found out what had happened. Alex had FaceTimed you saying, “Hey love, sorry to bother you when you're not even home yet but I’m gunna probably be really late tonight.”

“Are you okay?” You ask him as he looks white as a sheet on the screen on your phone. His floppy hair was a mess too.

You didn’t even mind about the date, you’re just worried about him as he looked really unwell. Like more unwell than you’d ever seen him before.

And you’d seen him in some states over the years.

“Erm, yeah and no.” Alex says and panic sets in your stomach, but thankfully he carries on explaining, “I cut my hand on broken glass and Miles is dragging me to A&E.”

“Not dragging you Alex, you’re hand’s cut open.” You can hear Miles say in a scorning voice.

You could see from the screen that he was sitting in a car but he didn't let you ask about his health. He just shushed his mate and apologised, “That doesn’t matter. Y/N I’m really sorry I’m gunna more than likely miss the reservation but I swear I’m gunna make it u-”

You interrupt and ask your boyfriend, “Al, Are you okay?” as he looks very light headed now.

“I’m fine” Alex says before lifting his hand so you could see it in the camera.

You could see that he’d tied a pot towel around it but what scared you was that the bit around the back of his hand was white and the bit on his parm was completely soaked red.

Your heart drops knowing what it was but for some reason you ask, “Is that blood?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” Alex tries to carry on but you don’t let him.

You shake your head and widen your eyes to scorn him for trying to continue on about the date, “You are literally bleeding… There’s more important things Alex.”

“But I just wanted to take you out.” Alex pouts and he leans his head against the window of the car Miles is obviously taking him to hospital in.

He was so adorable but at the same time so stupid.

After you ask Miles which A&E he’s taking him to, you race there yourself. You knew Alex and you knew how he was around doctors, especially when the trip was an unwanted one.

One too many bad experiences left him nervous of waiting rooms and seeing men and women in white coats. He didn’t like it all that much so there was no way you weren’t going.

Whether that be for moral support or to help ease his nerves you didn’t know. You just knew you couldn’t sit at home wondering if the man you love was okay after seeing how much blood was on that thick pot towel.

“Are you okay?” You say as your arms wrap around his waist.

“I’m fine.” Alex says, hugging you while simultaneously keeping his hand raised. “Better now you’re here.”

He kissed the side of your head before he let you go and you sat yourself down beside him. Miles left after you’d all been waiting together for 20 minutes but you assured him that your (but also practically his) boyfriend would be alright with you.

You were waiting an hour in total before you were sat in a chair next to the bed that the nurse had made Alex lie down on the bed and was preparing his hand to be stitched up. The cut was fairly deep and the nurse really wasn’t surprised at how much blood he’d lost considering the size of the wound.

It was lucky the glass hadn’t gone any deeper into his muscle or he could have been in a lot worse situation.

“I’m sorry.” Alex says when he looks away from the nurse to you sitting just beside him.

You frown a little then and look into his soft brown eyes, “What for?”

“This isn’t the date I wanted to take you on...” Alex tells you, pouting his bottom lip a little. “A&E isn’t really what I had in mind for tonight.”

You softly smile at him then and gently rub his shoulder as you say, “We could be here or at a dingy pub or a fancy restaurant and I’d be just as happy because you’re with me.”

Alex just grins at you like an idiot then, even more so when you say, “I’m happy anywhere as long as you’re with me.”

Alex’s heart melts.

“Please give me a kiss.” His Sheffield accent comes through thick when he asks you that.

You grin like the idiot in love that you are before you get up off the chair you’re sat on and kiss your boyfriend. His lips are warm and inviting as they always were and you smile into the sweet kiss as he tries to keep you there a little longer to distract him.

When you pull away, Alex softly smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you more...” You grin and add, “My little damsel in distress.” You run your fingers through his floppy hair and smile when he leans into your touch a bit more.

Alex laughs at that as you sit back down beside his bed and he chuckles, “This make you my prince charming now?”

“Well I’m not the one about to get stitches so I think so.” You giggle, looking over to the nurse who looked just about ready to start.

She moved her wheely table that now held her equipment to start treating Alex and she looks to him and asks, “You ready?”

Alex then grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers and after giving it a kiss and a squeeze he smiles and nods, “I am now”

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

[let-me-write-shit]

can you write a little something about Harry and reader finding out the gender of their baby after a long time of trying?

Ok, first of all, I’m SOOO sorry for taking so long to write this while I finished up my story. When I got this request, I got super emotional because this happened with me and my husband. So the story I wrote is our actual story. I hope you like it.

Word Count: 2,950

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

And don’t forget to let me know what you think! Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

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Little Miracle

It had been two years. Two long and frustrating years. When Harry and Y/N first started talking about trying to get pregnant, it was exciting. They had been married for about three years at that point and Harry had finally started to slow down in his career a bit to focus a little more attention on his wife with the prospect of starting a family. But things hadn’t gone to plan. They didn’t expect to get pregnant on the first try. Maybe not even the second. But by month three, they started to get discouraged. Maybe their timing was off. Y/N’s period was irregular, after all, and their ideal of ‘letting it happen when it happens’ was starting to become easier said than done. So, Y/N started taking ovulation tests.

She took a text every single day for a week, and all of the tests came back negative. Not a big deal, there’s only three days of ovulation in a month. She continued to take them. The third week, nothing. Maybe her ovulation days were spread out further apart since her period was so irregular? By week five, Y/N began to worry, but she hadn’t lost hope, yet. She visited her OB/GYN who encouraged her to keep trying, try to stress less, and eat healthier. So she did. She started exercising, changing her diet, taking more vitamins, even starting couples yoga with Harry, doing everything within her power to live a better lifestyle. Nothing worked.

With every negative ovulation and pregnancy test they got, Y/N spirits dwindled. Harry began picking up more work, doing anything he could to distract himself from the ranges of emotions that were running through him. Of course, he wanted to have a baby with Y/N. She was the love of his life and to be able to bring a piece of both of them in this world would be the biggest blessing he could have imagined. But seeing the pain and heartache in Y/N’s eyes each day after another negative test felt like a stab in his chest.

He tried to do little things to take her mind off of it. Spontaneous dates, trips to the spa, exotic getaways, concerts, you name it. But when they got home at the end of the day, passing by the empty room they had always talked about one day making into a nursery, he saw the flicker of hope in her eyes die. It was even harder whenever tabloids speculated her pregnancy or friends and family asked when they would have a baby. They always played it off, simply saying ‘it’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen’, but the rage he felt whenever someone brought it up was something awful. It took everything in him not to lunge at the person joking about it. If only they knew, maybe they wouldn’t be so insensitive.

After a year and a half of trying, they decided to bite the bullet and meet with a fertility specialist to see what was going on. Harry had just finished a tour and they thought now was the perfect time to get serious again. Dozens of tests were done between bloodwork, urine screenings, semen samples, and finally an ultrasound. That’s when they were given the news. Y/N had a pretty severe case of PCOS. It was the cause of her irregular periods and the reason why it had been so difficult for her to conceive naturally.

The doctor had sat them down in a room to discuss what this meant. According to him, the chances of Y/N ever conceiving naturally, without medical intervention, were slim to none. And even though there were several medical and procedural routes they could go, the chances of a baby sticking, though not impossible, did not look to be in their favor. The look on Y/N’s face was enough to kill.

After the doctor laid out all of their options, he gave them some space to digest, and as soon as he left the room, Y/N collapsed into Harry’s arms. They had given up hope. What was the point in trying? Why go through all the pain and discomfort of medications and procedures for the high probability that it’d end in miscarriage? When they got home, they began discussing their options. There was always surrogacy and adoption. But the more they talked about it, the more frustrated Y/N got. She tossed all of her unused ovulation and pregnancy tests in a drawer under her bathroom sink and slammed it shut.

“Maybe we can get a second opinion about your PCOS,” Harry suggested, following her into their bedroom.

Y/N shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, and curling up on her bed, tired from all of the crying, “Maybe the universe is telling us we shouldn’t be parents. Maybe it’s just not time yet.”

Harry pouted, curling up with her, “Love, we’re going to have a baby. It may not have your eyes or my dimples, but we’ll have a family someday.”

Months had passed and Y/N continued to take her ovulation tests out of the habit of taking them every day for nearly two years, and every day they would still come up negative. It was Father’s Day, and after a long day celebrating with Y/N’s dad, the couple came home and got ready for bed. Y/N opened a drawer to her bathroom sink to get some floss and to take her daily ovulation test, setting it on the vanity counter before finishing her business, and as she washed her hands, she noticed the faintest extra line imaginable.

Laughing, she threw it in the trash, almost certain that it was either a false positive or a trick of the light. Still, with over four hundred negative ovulation tests under her belt, it was a bit strange. She didn’t mention anything to Harry, afraid he would think she was crazy. The number of times she had convinced herself she was pregnant because of a ‘feeling’ was starting to become ridiculous. But, what’s the harm in trying? Harry looked especially hot today with his hair extra floppy and the perfect amount of stubble on his chin. All it took was her dropping her dressing gown to get him in the mood.

But when the next day rolled around and her ovulation test was negative, she figured the previous night was just a dud. Typical. She had completely forgotten about it, her mind distracted by the fact that Harry had to leave for a few weeks to work on a new album, meeting with producers and mixers, songwriters, and masters in LA. Y/N stayed in their London home, spending time with his family and meeting up with friends.

The day Harry was supposed to return, she decided to get all dolled up for him. It had been a while since she had gone all out, and she wanted to surprise him. First thing’s first, she needed a shower. She stripped out of her clothes, tossing them in the hamper, and decided to use the bathroom real quick before she got in. The sink drawer was slightly ajar and she saw the outline of the unused pregnancy tests she never got the chance to take. She frowned, pulling it out of the drawer, all of the lost hopes and dreams fluttering away with this one pregnancy test. She should get rid of them. She sat on the toilet in thought for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. What’s one more test, for old time sake?

She held the test under her stream for a few seconds and shook it dry before tossing it to the ground, barely out of sight, knowing that the test would be negative like it always was. Besides, she had no symptoms of being pregnant. She felt fine. So, she finished her business and washed her hands. But just as she was about to get in the shower, she happened to look down and saw it. It was faint. Very faint. But it was there. Two blue lines.

Fully naked and one foot wet, she rushed over and grabbed it off the floor, pulling it to her face and holding it up to the light to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But no matter how she turned it, she couldn’t unsee the two lines.

“Nope. It’s just a false positive,” she told herself before tossing it on the counter and getting in the shower.

But she could barely focus. Her mind kept wandering back to the test. Was it possible? She remembered the ovulation test she had taken on Father’s Day. Maybe she had ovulated. Maybe she was pregnant. No. Not possible. But….maybe?

It was a good thing she drank so much water that morning because when she got out of the shower, she had to pee again. This time, she made sure to get a cup to pee in, wanting to try multiple tests, just in case. She dipped three into the cup and set them on the counter, leaving to get dressed before returning. She took a deep breath, trying not to get her hopes up, before looking down. And her heart began to race. All three, barely visible, had two lines. Were they too faint? Did that mean she wasn’t pregnant?

So, to be sure, she took out the big guns. An electric pregnancy test. She needed to see the words. It wouldn’t be clear until she got a definitive answer. Pregnant or Not Pregnant. So she dipped it in and saw the little hourglass blink, and watched as the bar got closer and closer to completion. It took a moment to register, but when she saw it, an audible gasp escaped her as she clapped her hands over her mouth and stepped back.

Pregnant

“Oh my god!” she cried, tears rolling down her face in streams.

She picked it up, put it down, and picked it back up again to make sure she was reading it right. Pregnant.

Y/N had always imagined telling Harry in a cute, fun way. Putting a bun in the oven, or with a game of Pictionary. Maybe even a little onesie. But all of that went out the window. He was going to be home any minute and there was no way she could keep this to herself long enough to figure out how to tell them. It was something they had been waiting on for two years. She wouldn’t wait another second.

She gathered all of the tests she had taken, capped them so nothing could be exposed to the pee, and took them down to the dining room table, scattering them around and staring at them. Her leg shook, anxious for her husband’s arrival, and she bit her fingernails, still in shock that this was even happening. The beeping of the motion sensor went off, signaling that the front door had been opened and Harry’s voice rang through the house.

“Y/N?! I’m home! Where are you?!”

She tried to shout, but she couldn’t find her voice. The butterflies flapped around in her stomach like crazy and she felt like she could vomit from the nerves. It only took seconds for him to find her, though. He wore sweats and his hair looked almost greasy from his long flight home, a smile had stretched across his face at the sight of her. But it quickly turned into confusion when he neared.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the objects scattering the table as he got closer.

He picked one up to examine and upon seeing what it was, his eyes widened, gasping, “What? No way?” he put the test that he had been holding down and quickly grabbed another one, and another, and another, repeating, “Is that a line? Y/N, is that a line?” before finally grabbing hold of the electric test that read ‘Pregnant’. He gripped it tight, finally looking up at his wife, tears rimming his eyes, “You’re pregnant? We’re going to be parents?”

Y/N grinned, her eyes beginning to water, and nodded, “We’re going to be parents.”

Harry lost it, unable to control his emotions anymore. Two years of pent up sadness had blown out of him and he bawled, collapsing into Y/N’s arms and squeezing her tightly, blubbering, “I’m going to be a dad.”

They waited a while before telling anyone, terrified of their fertility doctor’s prediction that their baby would most likely not stick. But after three months of regular appointment and growth checkups, all of which looked great, they felt comfortable enough to tell their immediate family and very close friends, all of whom were beyond thrilled for the couple.

It was easy to hide her pregnancy for a while. She had no symptoms, she hardly showed, and it was at a time where Y/N and Harry hardly left their house anyway, so most people hadn’t suspected anything. They had managed to get halfway through the pregnancy without any leaks, and finally, at their twenty-week checkup, they would be finding out whether they were having a boy or girl.

They were especially nervous because, although they had been tossing names in the air for months now and had a boy’s name picked out almost right away, they hadn’t been able to agree on a girl name quite yet, and Y/N was almost certain they were having a girl, though Harry had been adamant that it was a boy.

“I don’t care, either way. I just want to know what kind of laugh they’ll have,” Harry said as the ultrasound technician moved the wand around his wife’s belly, taking measurements of all of the baby’s extremities and organs. “Like, will it have that cute high-pitched baby laugh? Or will it have one of those laughs that sounds like demonic possession, you know? I just want to be prepared for what I might hear in the middle of the night.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes, “I hope they have a demonic laugh. Imagine how much more fun Halloween would be? And everyone would be too creeped out by their laughing to want to stay too long. Imagine all of the awkward or boring situations we could get out of because of it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised, “Well, when you put it like that…”

The nurse giggled at their conversation and turned to face them, “Okay, are we ready to find out the gender?”

“Yes,” they grinned, squeezing each other’s hands tighter.

“Alright, let’s see if baby’s cooperating,” sang the technician, sliding the wand down further and pressing it harder into her skin. They saw their baby’s legs moving around wildly as she tried to get a better look in between their legs, digging the wand in harder. And that’s when they saw it. They shared a look with each other, mouths agape, as the nurse smiled, “It’s a boy.”

Y/N laughed, turning to face her husband, expecting him to start gloating. But she saw the reflection of light hit the water that started to collect at his lash line and a single tear rolled down his cheek, his chin quivering and sniffling as he quickly wiped it away.

“We’re having a boy,” he choked, catching his breath and pressing his lips to her forehead, his hand squeezing hers even harder now. The nurse grinned at his display of emotion as Harry whispered into her ear, “Paxton Robin Styles.”

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

Taglist: @odetostep

[one-boring-person]

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face. 

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss. 

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together. 

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface. 

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?" 

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?" 

"Should be." 

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age. 

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly. 

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit. 

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife. 

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire,  through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you." 

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

[raleighcarrera]

best of me

ride or die | logan x mc (ellie wheeler)

a picture of logan and ellie in their thirties for @rodappreciationweek and the time capsule challenge 🌼

tags: @choicesarehard ; @lovehugsandcandy ; @pixeljazzy ; @troublemakerinspace ; @zigtheeortega ; @jaxmatsuo

~2.3k words | T

“mr. wheeler!” 

logan looked around the parking lot, squinting into the sun. one of his students was running at him full speed, holding his cell phone aloft and waving it around excitedly. “what’s up, alex?”

alex drew to a stop in front of him breathlessly. “i got in,” he said, lips splitting into a big grin. “cal tech, i got in.”

“hey, that’s awesome!” logan said, reaching out to clap the student on the shoulder. “congrats, alex. that’s a huge accomplishment.”

“dude, thank you so much for your recommendation,” alex said, nodding enthusiastically. “you’re honestly the best teacher i’ve ever had.”

“give yourself some credit,” he smiled, “you worked hard, and cal tech is lucky to have you. just don’t forget to come back and visit, yeah?”

“for sure,” alex agreed. with one last grin, he was gone, and logan finished getting his things in the car so he could head home, the rest of the students and faculty in the parking lot of mar vista high well used to the roar his devore’s engine made by now, after three years of teaching.

ellie’s car was already in the driveway when he arrived back at the house, and logan frowned when he parked on the street and jogged up the walk to their front door. it was early for her to be home; usually his day ended well before hers. as he walked inside, he wondered absently if the fact that she’d had an early afternoon meant she’d started dinner, and if he was possibly lucky enough that she was making that noodle thing he liked so much.

“ellie?” his keys landed in the bowl by the door with a familiar clink, his shoes kicked off one by one on the mat. “babe?”

“in here!” the stressed-out voice of his wife filtered in from the spare room. as soon as logan took a step towards the hallway, there was a sudden and aggressive rapid tap-tap-tap on the hardwood floor, and their dog ran at him at full speed, jumping up onto his legs with an excited bark.

“hey, clark,” he said gently, bending down to scratch the dog behind his floppy ears, “everything okay in there?”

the pointed silence that followed seemed to speak for itself. he followed the hallway down to the spare bedroom and found ellie sitting on the floor, surrounded by ripped-open cardboard boxes and indistinguishable small plastic pieces.

before logan could ask what she was doing, she frowned up at him and said, “i’ve been trying to put this baby carrier together for three hours.”

he arched his eyebrows at her, looking over the small mess she’d created in the middle of the room. “you’ve been here for three hours?”

ellie pulled a face at him, her lips twisted into a grimace. “morning sickness that lasts all day again,” she explained, scrunching up her nose. “jack caught me coming out of the bathroom and sent me home after lunch.”

“oh, no,” logan said sympathetically, dropping down onto his knees on the one free space of carpet. “i was hoping that’d’ve gone away by now.”

“you and me both,” ellie sighed, puckering her lips at him for a quick kiss. “i guess it was too much to hope for a baby without a rebellious streak a mile wide.”

“i’m still holding out for your dimples,” he grinned, “and that laugh. as long as the baby gets both of those, they’ll be set for life.”

“the baby is five minutes away from sleeping on the floor. i’m about to trash all of this and go take a nap.” the downtrodden expression on ellie’s face tugged at his heart in a way her cute little sighs always seemed to manage to. logan was already smiling when she squinted up at him hopefully and asked, “will you help me try to put it together?”

as if there was ever a chance he’d say no. “’course,” logan answered, “two heads are better than one, right? although you are an engineer...”

“believe me, graco is going to be hearing from me,” ellie grumbled, rolling gingerly to the side to shuffle awkwardly out of the way of the pile of pieces she’d already started putting together. she was just a few months along but already starting to show and moving about differently for it, unaccustomed to her new shape. “there is no reason these instructions should be more complicated than my master’s thesis.”

logan laughed, leaning over to take a peek at the paper spread out between her legs. “hey, they’re not so bad.” he easily snapped two pieces into place, forming the base of the carrier. “there we go.”

“show off.” ellie rolled her eyes, pushing another piece his way with a disdainful sniff. “i’m still calling them to complain.”

“and you totally should,” he said easily, “because they suck and you’re brilliant.”

“exactly,” she agreed. without looking up he could tell that her eyes were narrowed, her lip curling further with every piece he added onto the carrier, the methodic click of each settling into place ringing out loudly in the silent room. finally, ellie groaned, “god, i hate you. i knew this would be so easy for you.”

“okay, but that’s what i’m here for,” he reminded her with another soft smile, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze her knee. ellie huffed when he continued to turn a plastic screw one-handed. “to handle all this shit for you so you can relax. i know you have the hardest job, here.”

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” ellie’s sigh sounded wistful. when logan lifted his gaze he found her staring at him adoringly, her eyes wet. “i love you.”

“i love you too, baby. any idea what you want for dinner?” he looked away to concentrate on lining two tiny pieces up, frowning when they wouldn’t stick quite right. “come here for a sec, yeah? need some tiny fingers.”

ellie shot him a look, but leaned over anyway, wiggling her hand in the tight space he indicated until the two pieces sealed together with a pop. “maybe i don’t need a refund on my degree after all.”

“they should’ve paid you to take it,” logan agreed indulgently, nudging his shoulder gently against hers. “dinner?” he prompted again.

his wife groaned theatrically, flopping back onto the carpet. her arms and legs spread out like she was making a snow angel, disturbing the bubble wrap and cardboard that littered the room. “i want sushi,” ellie said sadly, “and a wine spritzer.”

“what about apple cider?” he asked gently, eyes still on the baby carrier even as one hand felt blindly for her calf and dug its thumb into her muscle for a massage. “it’s almost the same thing.”

“it’s not even close,” she sighed. “but fine. thank you.”

“you got it. why don’t i finish up in here, and you see what we have in the kitchen? it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

“rub it in,” ellie muttered, rolling slowly to sit up. “okay. i feel like i should do something nice for you. maybe i can make that noodle thing you like.”

logan beamed at her, leaning in to steal a kiss. “that’s sweet of you, babe. thank you.”

ellie laughed, kissing him back before she asked, “why do i feel like this was all an elaborate set up to get me to make your favorite dinner?”

“because you’re a naturally suspicious person?” he guessed, lifting his hand to smooth her hair back off her face. “i don’t know.”

“i think it’s because you’re too charming for your own damn good.” but ellie was smiling when he pulled away, and that was all that mattered. it was the only goal he ever had. 

“no such thing,” logan smiled back, gently nudging her away. “i’m right behind you.”

“yeah, yeah,” she said, waving dismissively, “show off.”

he watched her walk away, staring until she disappeared around the corner, and then turned back to the mass of plastic and screws that was slowly starting to resemble an actual baby carrier. squinting down at the instructions, it was only a matter of minutes before he had the rest of it assembled, and then a few more while he backtracked, checking over his work to find where he’d missed the one remaining piece that had been left over.

he took the time to clean up in what was eventually going to be their nursery, eyes sweeping over the boxes and gifts that cluttered their spare room. there was a ways to go before they were anything even close to ready for the baby, and he knew ellie’s due date would be here in the blink of an eye.

would he ever really feel ready? it seemed insane, when he sat and thought about it -- he and ellie were going to be parents. more than home or dog owners or two people with jobs and bills, it seemed like a responsibility he felt no where near prepared for or equipped to deal with. sometimes he still felt like a stupid kid himself.

though he had absolutely no doubts about ellie. ellie took to every kid she met like a natural -- his students adored her, riya’s twins thought she was the greatest thing in the world and were still only lukewarm where he was concerned. the kids in the program they volunteered with couldn’t get enough of her.

she kept their house running and all their plants alive. she kept him so happy he was delirious with it, in a way that had felt utterly foreign at first but now seemed so common. 

enviously, he knew she’d be mother of the year without even having to try.

the rest of the room was tidied on autopilot as logan remained lost in his thoughts, and when he finally made his way into the kitchen it was, to his delight, to the tune of ellie in the middle of making his favorite dinner, the room smelling as amazing as the sight of her rushing around so domestically looked.

his heart gave a weak lurch as he stepped up behind her at the counter and wound his arms around her waist. his nose pressed into the dip at her shoulder with a sigh. “all done. next stop... crib.”

“don’t remind me,” ellie groaned, “my dad has been on my ass for weeks.”

logan winced. if there was one thing he knew about detective wheeler, it was that he was just as opinionated as his beautiful daughter. “maybe he could come with us to pick it out.”

“maybe he could mind his own business,” she suggested instead, stirring the boiling pot of pasta on the stove. “he acts like he knows everything there is to know about babies.”

“well,” logan said, nosing at the hair at the nape of her neck, “he did raise the most amazing person in the entire world. maybe we should give him some credit.”

“okay, kiss ass,” ellie laughed, “he can’t hear you. but fine. if you really want, we’ll all go next weekend.”

he shrugged. it was personally something he felt indifferent towards, but a few extra points with ellie’s dad never hurt. most of the time he was pretty certain detective wheeler still wanted him dead. “i think that’d be nice.”

“i bet you do,” she murmured, twisting around to hold the spoon she was holding out. “taste.”

he did, chewing and swallowing slowly. “it’s done,” logan said sadly, knowing the words meant he’d have to move away. ellie laughed as he pulled his arms back and went to set the table instead.

he headed to the fridge for the bottle of sparkling cider, making a show of popping the cork like champagne and pouring ellie a generous amount into the giant wine glass she hadn’t been able to use in awhile. she rolled her eyes at him as she put the serving bowl on the table. “it’s not the same.”

“it’s pretty close,” he argued, lifting his own glass up and swirling it like he’d seen many pretentious people at restaurants that made him uncomfortable do. “it’s a beautiful vintage,” he declared, as though he had any idea what that was supposed to mean, “with notes of... apples.”

gratifyingly, ellie dissolved into giggles, shaking her head. “i can’t stand you,” she said fondly, all smiles. he grinned back at her, lifting his glass to his lips. 

“to the baby,” ellie said suddenly, lifting her glass, too, and bumping it into his.

“to you,” logan corrected her, clinking his glass into hers a second time.

ellie narrowed her eyes at him. “to you.” their glasses knocked again.

“nuh uh,” he countered childishly, “you’re the baby’s mom.”

“you’re the baby’s dad,” she laughed, bouncing up on her toes to try to get at his glass even as he lifted it above his head and twisted out of her way.

“this is ridiculous,” logan grinned, “just let me toast you, oh my god.”

“no, it was my toast,” she said, jumping up and splashing apple cider out of her glass and onto the floor, “stop trying to hijack it!”

“okay, okay.” he held his hand out to concede, backing away to drop into his seat at the table. ellie followed suit, smirking triumphantly at him. she still loved to win. “to all of us, jeez. me and you and the baby.”

“to all of us,” ellie repeated, and this time, their glasses touched gently, the sound barely audible over the giggles that were building up in her throat again.

he flashed her a goofy grin before he tipped his head back and drained all his cider in one go. 

sure, it might’ve been nice to have had something stronger, but --

“mmm,” ellie sighed, smacking her lips as she set her glass down, “you were right. this is so much better.”

[narrators-journal]

Months of tolerance

So, I was looking back at my ranpoe valentines story and I got an idea. Why not write a little collection? A little trio or so of Valentines-themed sort of ship stories?

And so, I wrote a second one for Shin-soukoku! Though, please be forgiving, I’m not a super big fan of Atsushi, so I don’t have a lot of ideas and experience on how he works and behaves, so I kinda took inspiration from the rp me and my friend did for BSD and their sort of rendition of Atsushi mixed with canon.

Atsushi had never really experienced Valentines day or White day, so when Dazai offered to take him out on one of his days off and introduce him to the basics of the event he accepted it. He was quick to find it to be a bit depressing.            “Dazai, I don't think I have any real...reason to be here," The tiger sighed, putting down one of the little Valentines bears he'd been looking at in the shop and looking over at the bandage-clad brunette that was to be his mentor in the ADA. The rail of a man just pouted at him,            "Nonsense, Atsushi! You're learning about romance," he assured, giving the white-haired man a sweet smile, which made Atsushi grimace,            "Yeah, but this holiday is obviously for couples, and I don't have any romantic partner of any sort," He pointed out, a stone of loneliness settling in the bottom of his stomach as he spoke, but his mentor simply snorted as if that point was moot.            "Sushi, you don't need a romantic partner to celebrate Valentines day, you can just as easily get gifts for friends. After all, I don't have a partner but I'm gonna get a gift for someone." He assured, and while the tiger was still a bit unsure, he just nodded.

After that, he just went back to milling around up and down the aisle as he poked at the little toys, knick knacks, or sweets scattered about until Dazai clapped his hands together in an idea,          "Atsushi! I have an idea for what you can do on Valentines day!" he chirped, bouncing on his feet in some childish, giddy high, "Why not get a gift for Ryuunosuke!" The tiger blinked and scowled at the idea,          "Why the hell would I do that? I don't have any sort of feelings for him," he about spat, almost feeling his lip curl in a snarl at the mere mention of the wheezing, gothic, Dazai fanboy. However, the brunette simply rolled his eyes at his venom,          "There is a very common phrase, 'kill your enemies with kindness', you ever hear it?" before the weretiger could answer, he continued, "Akutagawa doesn't like you. At all. Hates your guts. But! If you get him a gift, maybe be as friendly as you can be, you can get him to warm up to you!" the weretiger's scowl only deepened, which made his mentor huff and drop the excited, bubbly tone, "If you get him to like you, you won't have to spend quite as much on shirts every week." Atsushi ended up buying a cheap little gift for the goth. However, that now left him with a question. How was he to get the cheap plush cat to Akutagawa? He'd been pondering the question all through out the three days that led up to Valentines day, going back and forth on whether or not he should even bother with Dazai's stupid idea. Is it really worth risking getting stabbed again? Just to give this cheap little thing to a bastard like Akutagawa? He thought bitterly, though his cheeks burned a slight pink while he glared down at the floppy little beanie baby cat that was sprawled out on his meager little coffee table, staring up at the tiger with glassy amber eyes while he sat on his couch the evening before Valentines day. I'd sooner drink my own piss then give Akutagawa a Valentines gift. He told himself firmly, getting up from his couch and plucking the toy from the cheap table to get rid of it. To do this, he threw it out of his livingroom window into the darkness of the cold night and listened to it land in the dumpster across the street with a soft thud thanks to how hard he'd thrown it. And, with that, he shut his window with a decisive 'humph' and went to bed. Dazai was a smart man, but Atsushi was not going to have conflicting and confusing feelings plague him just to placate a violent asshole with a hateboner for him. An hour later, the tiger went out to the dumpster he'd heard the cat slam against and dug the poor thing out to be washed. Not that the weretiger had changed his mind or anything, he'd just spent money on the derpy little toy, he didn't want to waste it. Or, so he told himself. So, he instead returned it to his bedside table after washing it a few times, trying to see if he could somehow rub the new crack out of his amber eye while doing his best to get the dumpster stench out of its fur. If he really was going to 'kill Akutagawa with kindness' like Dazai said, the least he could do was make sure the gift didn't reek of three day old take out and dog vomit. When the next day came, he took the toy to work, then walked home with it draped over his arm after a day of dealing with petty couple squabbles that had turned nasty, or helping Ranpo to and from the smattering of robberies he'd been requested on. Y'know, this just proves why I should've kept this thing in the garbage, he fumed to himself, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him so he didn't see even more lovey-dovey couples for the day, If I gave this to Akutagawa somehow, all that would happen is I'd be a statistic. Nothing more. He hates me too much, it'd probably off- Atsushi's ill-tempered thoughts were cut short when he ran into someone else on the sidewalk, sending them both sprawling to the pavement.           "O-oh my god! I'm so sorry, are you hurt miss?!" The weretiger squeaked, hopping up to his feet at record speeds to offer a hand to the pretty lady in white. She had long black hair, and a familiar style of dress on, but it was her light, steel-colored eyes that finally got her face to click in the frazzled tiger's irrational mind.          "Oh!...Gin, right?" he asked as she took his hand and let him help her up while she nodded,          "Sorry, I didn't mean to run you over," she said, her voice as quiet as the first time he'd met her with Katai and Kunikida, but her words shot a nebulous sort of anxiety into his veins,         "Oh, no no no, it was my fault, I wasn't looking where I-I was going," he stammered, trying desperately to comfort her as he reached to dust her off, but then changed his mind half way, doing that would be super weird, so he instead tried to think up another way to make up for running into her. He felt awful for knocking her over, but had no clue what to do, so he just ended up putting a hand over his anxious heart and staying quiet. Gin, meanwhile, had spotted the saggy stuffed toy on the sidewalk,           "Um, is that yours?" She asked, picking it up and dusting the little thing off gently, snapping Atsushi out of his thoughts,          "What? Oh! Yeah, that's...actually, I bought it for...Akutagawa." he admitted, not knowing what else to say to explain why he had a stuffed cat. Gin blinked at him, raising an eyebrow,           "No offense, but why did you buy my brother a toy? Is it for Valentines day?" Atsushi gaped for a moment, for some reason his brain struggling to give even the simplest answer for a moment,          "I...D-Dazai suggested getting him a gift..." he muttered, his cheeks beginning to heat up as he spoke, which Gin seemed to notice, but she said nothing,          "Well, how about I deliver it to him? He likes cats, I'm sure he'd enjoy this one," she offered sweetly instead, and for a moment Atsushi could only stare at her while his cheeks undoubtedly glowed a healthy pink until he cleared his throat, get yourself together Atsushi! This is a fine way to get the damned gift to Akutagawa, then Dazai can get off your ass, he told himself, pushing down the weird flustered feeling in his chest,         "Um, t-that would be helpful," She nodded, smiling a bit at the toy cat. With that, she wished him well as the sky darkened from the yellow-purple gradient of Atsushi's eyes, to a dark, star-speckled blue, leaving the tiger to walk home and contemplate his day. For the next few days, the weretiger was on edge, just waiting for the wheezing goth to pop out from behind every corner ready to stab him. However, it never happened. Atsushi was expecting it, always at the ready to defend himself, but for the entire month he didn't even see his nemesis on jobs, let alone when he was walking home or too work. So, he began to relax. Maybe he really did enjoy the stuffed toy, he thought a month or so later on his walk home from the ADA. The thought brought an odd warm feeling to his chest, but he was swift to stomp the detested feeling back down into that part of himself he refused to acknowledge. He could accept his tiger, but he was not ready to face anything like that emotion. Then, something slammed into the side of his head. In an instant, Atsushi was knocked onto the sidewalk with his world swimming for a moment or two. In those moments, he laid there in a daze, forced to wait for his senses to return and the throbbing ache in his skull to die before he could finally stumble to his feet. When the pain stopped and he could bare to stand once again, the white-haired man looked around for what might've hit him in the head, but the only thing he found was a can of soda. A soda that, upon closer inspection, he found to be one of his favorites, which was weird enough, since usually his favorite soft drink doesn't fly at people's heads, but, no one was currently around to explain why an unopened, very dented can of his preferred soda was rolling around at his feet after knocking him on his ass like it had. He'd tried to look around, taking advantage of his improved night vision to try and spot anyone trying to hide from the blame for throwing it at him, but the street was currently sparse in other people in the area. However, after a moment of thinking, and examining the near-bursting can, it slowly dawned on the tiger who might've thrown it. Then, the date set in, bringing a stronger wave of hot embarrassment to his cheeks.           "Um?? T-thanks I guess?" he called out into the swiftly growing darkness, and then swiftly continued home, before the hiding goth caught sight of the way his cheeks tinged a small shade of pink or decided to come out to maul him for acknowledging him.

[starlightrows]

Something of Your Own

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 1.8k

Tags: Hurt Comfort, angst, happy ending 

Summary:  Din takes you in after your village is destroyed

AN: Originally posted on AO3 in November 2020 

Sitting against the wall in the hull of the ship, you rolled the small silver ball over towards the kid. He catches it and gets distracted looking at his tiny reflection again. He chirped happily, probably overjoyed to have a playmate on this lonely ship, and tries to roll it back.

You had only been traveling with the Mandalorian and his foundling son for a few months. So far it wasn’t so bad. You had been taking care of children almost your whole life, and this child was surprisingly easy to care for. Entertain him for most of the day, feed him often, hold him while he falls asleep, and he’s a perfect angel. Your new traveling companion had made him sound like a little terror. You supposed that was because he couldn’t afford to give all of his attention to him. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it. Well, that and having nowhere else to go.

The Mandalorian had come to your village asking if anyone had heard of a people called The Jedi. No one in the village had. You had never seen a Mandalorian before either. He had asked if there were other villages nearby he could ask. You offered him a place to stay for the night, and set out for the neighboring villages in the morning. He was reluctant, but the child seemed so attached to you. Continually trying to climb your skits and touch your face. So he agreed.

He regretted that decision. The nights on your planet were long, and dark. And his that darkness a massive ship flew overhead, landing on the outskirts of the village. Armored soldiers poured out of ship, and began breaking into homes. Demanding to know where to find the Mandalorian and his charge.

The Mandalorian awoke to screams and sound of blaster fire coming from somewhere else in the village. His helmet went on and he leaped from the bed, plucking the sleeping child from the pram, and yanking open the door to the bedroom. Only to find you at the door about to knock.

“Help us!” You shouted. He thrust the child into your arms, and went back to put on the few pieces of armor he had removed to sleep.

Coming back out of the room, he grabbed your shoulders roughly “Take the child back to my ship, lock yourself in there and do not let anyone in” You were frozen in terror, clutching the baby to your chest. “Go!” He shouted

So you did. Out the back door, and behind the row of homes and businesses you had lived in your whole life. Blindly you ran for the ship. The sound of your friends and neighbors screams pounded in your head, how the baby was sleeping through this you could not fathom.

Finally reaching the ship you climbed in, and sealed the door. You sunk to the floor, exactly where you sat now, and you waited. Tears streaming down your face. You had no idea how long you sat there, if you fell asleep at any point. The ship’s hull was pitch black and soundless, save for the soft breathing of the baby and your muffled crying.

The sound of the being opened from the outside scared you. Jumping to your feet, and retreating further into the darkness hoping you wouldn’t run into anything. Dull orange light streamed into the hull, and you heard your name being called out. It was the Mandalorian.

You emerged from the darkness, tired puffy eyes looking at him expectantly. Suddenly you were more terrified than you had been the entire night. Your village. Your home. Your whole life. What had happened? What was left?

You advanced towards him. But he stopped you with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry” that was the only thing he could say. An apology. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes. You pressed the child into his arms, and ran passed him.

You didn’t know what you would find when you got there. All you knew was you had to see it. You didn’t stop running until you saw the smoke rising from the ashes... your entire life had been reduced to rubble. You sobbed, like never before.

Eventually the Mandalorian had followed you back into the ruins of your village. He asked if there was somewhere you wanted to go, if you had friends or family. This was it. This was your whole life. You had nowhere to go. He offered to take you with him.

“Come with us. You can leave whenever you’d like. And I can pay you for your help with the kid,”

It was the only option you had, so here you were. Rocketing through the stars, on your way to an uncertain future, with a baby and a man who’s name you didn’t know and face you will never see.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Mando’s footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit. The baby toddled over to the landing, having lost all interest in the silver ball rolling back towards you. Mando bent down and picked up the child, he approached you as you stood up.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he told you “There’s someone I need to talk to on this planet. And they have a market where we can resupply”

You nod quietly. After these last few months, you were still mourning the loss of your village. Going into towns and markets on other planets was exciting but it made you long for home. You had never left your home world, visiting other planets exposed you to things you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams.

Planets covered in dense forests, others with endless expanses of water, not to long ago you had been to a planet that had man made structures covering every surface area... You had come from a farming planet, that sold crops and livestock to intergalactic traders. You knew there were other worlds in the universe, other species, but it was so much more vast than you could have imagined.

The planet you were visiting today was beautiful. Enormous mountains jutted from the ground, fields of tall grass and wildflowers, and clear springs. The village was busy, full of travelers stopping for more fuel, supplies, a place to stay for the night, or just somewhere to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air.

Mando watched as you step off of the ship, holding his son.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You asked the child softly. He replied in his garbled little chirps.

Mando felt his chest tighten. The guilt of being the reason you had nowhere to go weighed heavily on him. But bringing you to beautiful places like this, that you may have otherwise never experienced made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want to admit he was taking you to some of the more interesting places he had visited in his travels, and tried to find nice places for you to stay and take care of the baby when he had to catch a bounty.

“Ready?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, following him towards the town.

Every time they stopped a new planet, Mando knew there was a chance you would not continue with him. But if truth be told, he didn’t want that to happen. He had grown fond of you these last few months. Having a second set of hands around to do things on the ship and someone to make sure the kid was always looked after, were more than welcome. But it was more than that, it was you. You were kind, and gentle. Respectful of his culture, and eager to learn and see everything. He didn’t want you to find a new place to settle. But that wasn’t his choice to make.

He thought about this as you walked together through the market. You held the child against your chest, letting him look out at all of the people and shops. You pointed out various things to him, and spoke with such care.

He left you with some credits, and instructions on where to meet back up with him when you were done shopping and he was finished with his meeting. He had been trying to give you more credits than you needed recently. A couple weeks back, he had snapped at you in a hurry to leave the planet he had left you and kid on for a few days...

“Get your things, we’re leaving”

You stood up, with the child in your arms and walked out of the small inn. He didn’t miss your words under your breath as you passed him.

“I don’t have any things,”

You were right, all you had was the clothes on your back. And the credits he gave you after returning from cashing in on bounties. It was his fault, and he knew it.

You walked around the market, trying to make sure you had enough of a variety of foods to take with you onto the ship. You picked up some strips of bandage cloth, and bacta pads as well. Your companion made more use of those than you would like to admit.

You passed by a clothing stall, and stopped short. Looking down at the kid in his tan robes. It wouldn’t hurt to get him a second set, he did get dirty a lot when you stayed on a planet for a few days. You stepped into the stall, and began looking to find children’s clothing.

The fabric the clothing is made of on this planet is so vastly different from the clothes your own people wore. You ran your fingers over a pair of dark brown trousers.

“What do you think little friend?” You asked the child “maybe we both need something new”

Mando approached the massive shade tree, seeing you and the baby leaning against the trunk and sharing a piece of fruit. He saw that you had several packages of supplies for the ship sitting next to you, and a leather pack. He also noticed the child wore new, grey robes. And you. You wore new well fitting trousers, tunic, boots and coat. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive you looked. The child scampered towards him, and raised his little arms. He shouldered the child, and offered you a hand to stand up.

“You look nice,” he said, somewhat dumbly.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking his hand. You gathered the packages and supplies. “I figured I would need some better clothes if I’m gonna keep up with the little womp rat” You scritched behind the child’s floppy ears. The baby cooed at your touch.

Mando felt comforted walking back to the ship. If you were willing to spend money on things to better help you take care of the kid, maybe you would stay longer.

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

wrote this last night when I was sad because I need more happy Geralt in my life. The ending is not what I wanted it to be, but I like the rest of it.

Partially inspired by one of @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher ‘s fics. You are a most gracious person, Bouncey <3

Geralt returned home from work and immediately dashed to the bathroom, ignoring his housemate’s raised eyebrow. Regis just didn’t understand.

Geralt was so excited that he almost forgot to take off his socks before hopping in the shower. He hummed a little ditty to himself as he scrubbed his body completely with the soap he bought online specifically because his boyfriend had mentioned it off-hand.

His boyfriend was very refined. Jaskier liked nice smells, and soft clothing, and good food, and holding Geralt’s hand. He was all about sensuality, about indulgence in small things and being happy. And he said that being with Geralt made him happy.

Geralt grinned to himself as he washed his hair. Well, he was happy with Jaskier, too.

“Date night, date night,” he whispered to the tune of the song he’d hummed. “Date night and kisses, kisses and a date, for me for me for me!”

He already had an outfit picked out, but he worried over it for fifteen minutes anyway, before putting it on and tying his hair back again. He then grabbed his jacket, wallet, phone, and keys, and went out to sit in the living room, still excited but more contained. Regis still looked amused.

“Why haven’t you moved in with him yet?” the elder man drawled, turning a page in his book. “If you love him so much, why spend entire days fretting about seeing him when you can just be with him?”

Geralt scowled at Regis. Just because Regis had had a loving marriage for most of his life he thought he was better at relationships. “It’s not that easy,” Geralt retorted. “I want to… be sure.”

Regis looked Geralt in the eye and raised both brows. “My dear boy,” he said dryly, “You have been going on dates with him twice a week for several months. You have told me three times, only once drunk, that you want to marry him. What do you need to be sure about?”

Geralt scowled and refused to answer him.

There was a knock on the door, and Geralt jumped to his feet, smoothing the front of his jacket nervously. Regis smiled, but Geralt didn’t see, already rushing to the door.

He opened the door more quickly than usual, but he did that every time it was date night. And then he had to stop and stare, as always, because Jaskier was absolutely gorgeous.

Jaskier had gotten his hair cut; buzzed sides and back, smoothly sweeping up into a stripe of his naturally floppy, silky brown hair. His outfit for the night was velvet, panels of sea-green and sky blue, in a style that seemed to be all his own; high waist, slim legs, lace-up closures, and a doublet closed with hooks. He always wore silver rings, but there was a new one on a black velvet ribbon around his neck. Geralt’s eyes skipped over it.

Jaskier smiled, and as usual Geralt felt like he should be covering himself because surely he wasn’t worthy of such warmth and acceptance.

“Ready, love?” Jaskier asked cheerfully.

Geralt nodded and stepped out of the house. As soon as he closed the door, Jaskier turned Geralt’s face with his fingertips, so warm and gentle, and kissed him softly.

“I missed you,” Jaskier murmured. “I always miss you.”

Geralt kissed back, reveling in the warm, earthy scent of Jaskier’s cologne. “I missed you too,” he hummed, and kissed Jaskier’s cheek. “Where are we going, again?”

Jaskier smiled and pinched Geralt’s cheeks, snickering as Geralt scrunched his face in displeasure. “I’ll tell you in the car, love.”

Geralt linked his hand with Jaskier’s and went with him willingly. He would go anywhere Jaskier asked him to.

Date night, date night, date night and kisses, kisses and a date, for him for him for him.

Jaskier had snagged tickets to the final performance of a musical called “The Witchest”. They had already seen it twice together, but Jaskier insisted, and Geralt was happy to agree. It was a strange but amusing show, and Geralt liked to kiss Jaskier in the shadows of the Pankratz family box while listening to the laughter of the crowd and the bard’s singing.

Dinner was at a Skellige inspired restaurant, one of Geralt’s favorites. He wondered why Jaskier had chosen this place, when they both knew full-well that the intense scents of Skellige cuisine made him ill, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask. Something about the way Jaskier fiddled with that new ring more and more as the night continued made him reluctant to say anything other than the million and one things he could only talk about with Jaskier.

Jaskier asked if they could take a turn through the park nearby; Geralt agreed, thinking that Jaskier wanted fresh air.

He did. But not for the reason Geralt has suspected.

“Geralt, my darling… will you marry me?”

Geralt didn’t cry, solely because he was too shocked. But when he put on the ring, warm from Jaskier’s skin, his eyes started watering, and he wrapped his arms around Jaskier and kissed him, relaxing so completely when Jaskier returned the embrace that he could’ve sworn they were floating on clouds.

Kisses, kisses and a date, and a ring. For him, for him, for him.

[dr-ethan-ramseyy]

Never Stop

Pairing: Jonathan Hayes x f!reader

Word Count: 3.57K

Warnings: implied sex, pregnancy

Summary: some snapshots of a future with our boy Jonathan 

✨ Find the prequel here. ✨

(The title comes from “Never Stop” by SafetySuit, in case anyone is wondering. That song is the sweetest thing ever and it reminds me of him)

Nearly six months after Jonathan and I had decided to start looking for a place to move in together in Maine, we were pulling up to our new house. Our. HOUSE. 

Jonathan turned to me with a huge smile on his face and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. 

“I can’t believe we’re really here,” he breathed, his eyes trailing over my face. 

“I can’t believe it’s really ours,” I smiled. 

He leaned across the center console, kissing me sweetly before getting out of the car and rounding to my side to open my door for me. Before I could react, he had lifted me into his arms, carrying me bridal style to the front door. 

“Jonathan!” I laughed. 

“What? This is a big day for us! You know I like to be a romantic from time to time.”

 I couldn’t help but laugh again as he set me down momentarily on the porch to fish the key out of his pocket, opened the door, then picked me up again before walking into the empty house. 

It was just a small starter home, the most we could afford, and really, all we needed. Jonathan kissed me and slowly set me on my feet. The kiss started out sweet but quickly turned heated. He backed me up against the wall, then moved his hands around to grip my backside. 

“Jump,” he grunted between kisses. 

I jumped, and he pinned me to the wall as I wrapped my legs around his waist. 

“I think,” he said, his breath heavy, “we should make use of every single one of these rooms before the movers get here.”

I raised my eyebrow. “That’s quite the tall order.”

“I’m up to the challenge, baby,” he winked before surging forward to kiss me again. 

“Then I’m up for it, too,” I moaned. 

“We need to get started then,” he teased, moving to lift up my shirt. 

~~~

“Hey sweetheart,”Jonathan called as he came through the door one afternoon, slinging his backpack off his shoulders. 

“Hey!” I smiled, looking up from my spot on the couch. “How was class?”

He shrugged, flopping down on the couch next to me and pulling me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head before answering, “Fine. I have to make up some building designs for next week, which I’m excited about.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” I said, leaning into him and resting my head on his shoulder. “And I’m so glad you’re enjoying your architecture classes.”

“That means so much to me, thank you, Y/N,” he grinned, kissing me. “I’d much rather hang out with you all day than go to class though.”

“Well, obviously,” I laughed. 

“You know what? We should do something fun today.”

“Like what?”

“We haven’t gone out on the boat in a while.”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “You do love the boat.”

“I love what you and I get up to on the boat,” he murmured in my ear, making me shiver.

“Well…” I pretended to think about it, drawing it out to tease him. “I am off today. And you’re done with class for the day…”

“And you look really sexy in your bathing suit,” he said quietly, slowly inching his face closer to mine, his eyes trained on my lips. 

“Hmm. So do you.” 

“Mmhmm. Say yes, baby.”

I decided I had tortured him enough. “Yes,” I said. 

He grinned, moving forward to pin me under him on the couch. He kissed me deeply, his tongue teasing mine. 

“Are you sure we’ll make it to the boat?” I asked after he pulled back for a moment to catch his breath.

He tangled his hands in my hair and grinned. “What’s the rush? We’ll get there eventually.”

It took a while, but we eventually did make it out to the boat. Jonathan and I were in our bathing suits, and he pulled me to sit on his lap as he drove us around the waters that he knew so well and that I was growing so accustomed to. 

I leaned back against his bare chest, reveling in the feeling of the sun against my skin. Jonathan ran his fingers back and forth slowly over my bare thigh. 

After a bit of wandering the waters, Jonathan put the anchor down, and we laid on the boat, looking up at the blue sky, feeling like we were the only two people in the world. 

Jonathan rolled on top of me, bracing himself on his forearms so he didn’t crush me. He gazed into my eyes intently with a small smile on his face, running his thumb along my cheekbone gently. 

“What is it?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he hummed absentmindedly, still tracing my face.

“You’re looking at me weird. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m not looking at you weird,” he said quietly, dipping his head down to brush featherlight kisses across my cheeks. 

I giggled, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Yes, you were. Tell me what you were thinking,” I teased.

He sighed theatrically, lifting his head to look at me again. “I was thinking,” he brushed a lock of hair away from my face, “that I love when it’s just the two of us…” he trailed off, his eyes fixed on mine.

“But?”

“But…” He smiled, a small, almost shy smile, “it might be nice to add to our family a little.”

“What did you have in mind?” I raised my eyebrow. 

“I may have been looking around at some of the local shelters… they have quite a few dogs looking for homes,” he said, sounding hopeful. 

“You want to get a dog? You think we’re ready for that?”

“Well,” he sat up, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Not if you don’t think we are. It’s just, we have a house, and I’m not leaving all the time anymore, and you love dogs-”

“I love dogs,” I cut in, excitedly. “And I love you,” I scooted closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I definitely want to give a dog a home, if you do.”

His whole face lit up and he hugged me closer. “I’m so glad you do.”

~~~

I should have known I would cry at the shelter. 

Jonathan and I had decided to swing by after he got out of class to look at the dogs they had. We walked along, his arm around my waist. 

And then I locked eyes with a little brown and white mutt with floppy ears and the biggest puppy eyes I had ever seen and I broke down crying. 

Jonathan looked at me, concerned but not surprised. “Should I ask if we can meet that one?”

I nodded, and he squeezed my arm affectionately before going off to find an employee to help us. 

I dropped to my knees, not taking my eyes off the dog until Jonathan came back. The employee let the dog out and he ran right to us, excitedly wagging his tail. 

“I think we were meant to be,” I said, scratching behind the dog’s ear. 

“Kinda like us,” Jonathan grinned, petting the dog, too. 

And that was that. We brought Wally home with us and we were a family. 

Jonathan and I took Wally to the park, we went on walks, we hung out in the backyard. It was perfect. 

~~~

Jonathan swore under his breath as he closed the door behind him, shaking snow out of his hair and stomping the excess snow off his boots before putting the wood he had grabbed from outside in our fireplace. 

“I thought our first winter here together would be a little more magical, but so far it’s just cold,” he joked as he got the fire going. 

Wally watched him intently, as he often did. The two of them were the best of friends; Wally followed Jonathan around everywhere. I would be jealous if it wasn’t so cute. I couldn’t blame him, really. Who wouldn’t be obsessed with Jonathan?

“I don’t know, I think it’s kind of magical,” I smiled. “You’re here, aren’t you? That’s all I need.”

Jonathan grinned at me over his shoulder. Once he got the fire going, he went back to the front door, kicked his boots off onto the mat, wiped up some of the water that he had trekked into the house, and finally settled in next to me, draping our favorite blanket across our laps and pulling me into his side, resting his cheek against the top of my head. 

“You’ve made a good point, as always, baby. I can’t believe we’ve had our own house for half a year,” Jonathan said, running his hand up and down my arm soothingly. 

“We’re really nailing this home ownership thing,” I laughed. 

To my delight, Jonathan laughed too, kissing the top of my head before saying, “You want to watch a Christmas movie?”

“It seems like the perfect night for it,” I smiled.

Jonathan picked up the remote, scrolling through our several streaming services until he found my favorite Christmas movie and played it. 

We cuddled there under the blanket and watched the movie, Wally settled in on Jonathan’s other side. Occasionally Jonathan would lose interest in the plot and pull me on top of him, kissing me until I was breathless.

“Jonathan,” I groaned into his mouth one such time.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, pulling away and shifting so I could rest my head on his shoulder, his arm draped around me. “I’ll let you get back to your movie.”

Once the movie ended, he looked at me, raising an eyebrow mischievously. 

“Oh no, what does that face mean?”

He laughed, kissed my forehead, and stood up, grinning at me. “I have an idea. Wait here, sweetheart.”

Turning on his heel, he disappeared into our bedroom for a moment, then came back, smiling. 

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he said, walking over to our stereo and putting on a Christmas song. A slow instrumental. 

I smiled. 

Jonathan walked towards me slowly, his hand outstretched. “You remember this one, baby?”

Standing up with a small smile, I placed my hand in his. “It’s the same one from your parents’ house. When we talked about moving out here.”

He pulled me close, and we swayed back and forth. “That’s when you randomly started crying and scared me half to death,” he joked, gazing down at me lovingly. 

I rolled my eyes. “I know. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s one of my favorite memories, actually,” he said gently. He was leading us in small circles around the living room, careful not to trip over Wally who was curiously watching us, right at our heels. 

“It is?”

“Of course. That was a big moment for us.”

I gazed up at him, and he leaned down to kiss me sweetly. “I want to make so many more memories with you,” he murmured, his lips barely an inch from mine. 

He pulled back then, and took both of my hands in his, his eyes lit up with joy and love. “I love you so much, Y/N. I know you know that, but I never get tired of saying it. I want to keep saying it to you every day for the rest of our lives.”

He took a deep breath, glancing down at the ground before looking into my eyes again. “I love everything about you. So, I was wondering…”

My breath hitched in my throat. Was he doing what I thought he was?

“Every day I think about how lucky I am that we matched on that app all that time ago. I’m even more lucky that you waited for me. That you love me back. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, sweetheart.”

Jonathan shot me a small smile before dropping down to one knee, still holding onto one of my hands, but letting go of the other to pull a small box out of his pocket. He looked up into my eyes with the most hopeful expression I’ve ever seen. He opened the box as he said, “Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

Tears burst into my eyes even though by that point, I knew it was coming. “Yes!” I practically yelled.

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed gleefully, standing up and reaching for me, lifting me up and spinning me around in a circle. 

He set me down after a moment, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me with so much passion, my knees felt weak. 

Finally, we pulled back and he slipped the ring onto my finger. It was perfect. Everything I’d ever wanted. 

We both looked at it for a moment, and then we looked at each other, just smiling because there was too much joy to put into words. 

~~~

I felt all eyes on me as I slowly walked down the aisle, but all I could see was Jonathan. He looked good-- wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that he had picked out. His eyes were shining as they locked on mine; it looked like he was close to crying. It took all of my willpower not to run to him. 

Looking into Jonathan’s eyes as I got closer, I thought back to the night that he proposed, before the whirlwind of wedding planning.

“I was going to wait until I had a plan,” he whispered as he held me in bed, lightly brushing my hair off my face as he gazed at me. “I was going to plan it all out but… then we were there and I was holding you and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I love you. I was just so happy, and I had the ring and… I couldn’t wait.” he smiled sheepishly. 

“It was perfect,” I whispered back, leaning forward slightly to kiss him. 

And all the months leading up to the wedding had been perfect, too, though nobody could believe it. We worked well together, Jonathan and I. Sure, there were little disputes but we figured them all out together. 

I finally made it up to Jonathan, who really looked like he might cry now. He smiled at me in awe as I stood in front of him. 

The officiant started the ceremony and Jonathan kept his eyes on me the whole time. “I love you,” he mouthed.

I grinned and mouthed it back.

The rings were exchanged. We said “I do.” Then it was time to kiss.

Jonathan wrapped me up in his arms as soon as the words left the officiant’s mouth. He kissed me passionately, lifting me up off the ground. 

The two of us were together for most of the night, taking up the dance floor with every slow song. Even after endless pictures, we couldn’t stop smiling. 

As the night was winding down and guests were starting to leave, Jonathan wrapped his arms around me, leaning down so his lips were touching my ear as he murmured, “Did you have a good night, sweetheart?”

“I had the best night,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “We’re married.”

His eyes lit up. “We are absolutely married,” he said before kissing me slowly, like we had our whole lives to do it. 

~~~

I sighed, cutting up vegetables for dinner that night. Frankly, I hated when it was my turn to make dinner these days. Everything was just so tiring. But, Jonathan was doing a lot more around the house when he wasn’t working late, which was always so appreciated. He always was doing so much for me, but it had really increased in the last few months. He was sweeter than ever, really. 

I heard the front door open and couldn’t help smiling. It was my favorite time of day, when we could both finally come home and be together.

“How are my two favorite people doing this evening?” Jonathan asked, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my ever-growing belly. 

“Mm. I’m okay. Baby’s feeling rambunctious, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jonathan kissed my cheek. “What’s he doing?”

“She has been kicking me constantly for the past hour and a half.”

As if on cue, I felt another kick. Jonathan chuckled, feeling it, too. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I know it’s uncomfortable for you, but I have to admit, it excites me every time.”

“It is exciting that she’s growing and healthy but,” I sighed. “It’s exhausting being kicked from the inside all the time.”

Jonathan moved to stand next to me, gently nudging me away from the cutting board, gingerly taking the knife out of my hand. “I’ll take over, you go lay down.”

“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to complain. It’s my turn for dinner duty.”

He set the knife down on the counter and turned to me, rubbing my upper arms affectionately. “Baby, you’re growing a human and working full time. You have a right to complain about how tired you are.” He gently kissed my forehead and made a “shoo” motion with his hand. “Go, take care of yourself and our little boy.” 

I laughed, doing what he said. Jonathan and I had been arguing about whether the baby would be a boy or a girl since we found out I was pregnant. Really, neither of us cared what the sex was, and gender is just a construct anyway, but it had turned into a goofy game we played with each other frequently. 

Wally came up and snuggled with me as I watched Jonathan expertly move around our kitchen. He told me about his day, all about how he loves working with architecture. I grinned. I was so proud of him for doing what he wanted to do, and so thankful that he would be here and safe with our family from now on. 

Jonathan helped me off the couch when dinner was ready (even though I’ve told him several times it wasn’t really necessary), and we laughed and talked all the way through the night.

“I’m so excited to be a dad,” he murmured as we were getting ready for bed that night, pressing a light kiss to my stomach. 

“You’re going to be the best dad,” I said, running my hands through his hair as he knelt in front of me. 

“You think?” he said, looking up at me with a smile.

Just then, the baby kicked. “Yeah. The baby knows it already, too. She always kicks when she hears your voice.”

Jonathan's eyes were shining as he pressed his lips to my stomach again and whispered. “I love you so much already, little one. I can’t wait to meet you.”

I fell asleep that night in Jonathan’s arms, feeling more thankful than I ever thought possible.

~~~

“Dad, will you push me on the swings again?”

“Hey, he just pushed you! It’s my turn now, right Dad?”

Jonathan glanced at me, beaming, before turning back to the kids. “Lucy’s right, Sam. It’s her turn now, but it’ll be your turn again next, okay?”

Sam groaned and ran to my place on the park bench, sitting next to me and leaning his little head against my arm. “I can’t wait til the new baby comes so you can push us again, Mom.”

I laughed, running my hand through Sam’s blond hair and looking back to watch Jonathan and Lucy laughing by the swings. “Are you excited to be a big brother again?”

“Yeah!” he grinned up at me. His smile reminded so much of Jonathan’s, it almost hurt.

They went on like that for a while before Jonathan said, “You two push each other for a while, okay? I’m gonna go check on your mom.”

Jonathan settled in next to me, draping his arm across my shoulders and resting his cheek on the top of my head. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m good, Jonathan, you don’t have to keep such a close eye on me. I’ve done this before,” I joked.

He kissed my cheek. “You know I can’t help it. I love keeping my eye on you,” he said teasingly, nuzzling my neck.

I laughed. 

We grew quiet for a bit and he looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay? Something on your mind?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking…” I trailed off, not sure if I should bring it up.

“About?”

“Well, the kids love playing outside.”

“Yes…”

“And we don’t have much of a yard…”

“True,” he said, looking at me with anticipation. 

“And we’re about to have another kid.”

“I had noticed that,” he joked.

“So…” I trailed off again, looking at him. 

He was smiling. “So. I think we're going to need a bigger house.”

I grinned. “I think so, too.”

Jonathan got a mischievous glint in his eye, and he leaned close to my ear, so the kids wouldn’t be able to hear a thing. “We’ll need a babysitter the day we move in.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“Well, we’ll have to consummate every room, just like we did in our house now.”

I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! It brought us good luck, I think.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” I asked as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Ewww!” Sam and Lucy shrieked in unison. 

Jonathan sighed, smiling at me. “I love you, sweetheart.”

I beamed. “I love you, too.”

[mandoalorian]

Cashmere Blindfold [Din Djarin x Reader]

CASHMERE BLINDFOLD

Summary: you have your first kiss with The Mandalorian, but there’s a twist. No living thing can see him without his helmet.

Warnings: N/A just pure fluff!

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader

Based on this tweet:

Enjoy!! <3

———

You felt his gaze burn into your back. You stood, in the hull of the Crest, watching over the sleeping child under the dim red light. You reached into his cot and adjusted his blanket carefully, paying extra attention not to wake him. His big floppy ears twitched a little, and he let out a soft coo under your touch. You felt your lips curve into a smile. You had only been crew on the Crest for a little over three months, but that child was wrapped around your finger. You’d do anything for him and you loved him so deeply. The ground beneath you creaked as you heard footsteps approach you. His gaze was still locked on to you, and the Mandalorian slowly made his way over to the cot, looking at the sleeping child.

“He’s peaceful,” the Mandalorian said, his voice low but gentle. You hummed softly in agreement. In the silence, you both stared at the sleeping child, feeling complete adoration for him. You loved the child like he was your own.

After what felt like an eternity, you brushed yourself down and walked away from the Mandalorian, and away from the cot, to the front of the ship. You made your way to the cockpit and slipped into the co-pilot seat, admiring the vast space around you. The Razor Crest had been halted. The Mandalorian had paused navigation and the three of you were just floating in the middle of the galaxy; some star system you probably had never heard of. You were jolted out your thoughts when your seat shook a little. On impulse, you pushed your feet and spun yourself around only to be greeted by the glint of familiar shiny beskar, the Mandalorian’s armoured chest plate. Realising your eyeline was directly pointed towards his utility belt, you slouched back into your chair and thought it was more appropriate to look up at him, only to see his helmet was tilted and he was already looking down at you. Neither of you spoke a word. You felt a lump in your throat, and an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach. Neither of you had been in such close proximity before, such deafening silence. He crouched down to your level, so now your eyeline was directed to his, or at least, his visor.

You had never seen his face. But you imagined it, always. You imagined he had an almost rugged look, maybe chocolate brown hair, and deep dark eyes. He had never told you what planet he come from, but you imagined some place with permanent summers. You imagined the Mandalorian had a tanned complexion and perhaps a light brush of facial hair. You wondered if he had scars, or if his beskar helmet was good enough to protect the pretty face you had envisioned for some time now. You let your thoughts trail, but now, your heads only inches apart, you felt a feeling like never before. He was so close to you, and you wondered what he was thinking.

You and the Mandalorian had become undoubtably close since he rescued from the bounty hunt on Dantooine. He rescued you and you weren’t even sure why. You were just grateful that he had given you a home, a life, a job, and, you glanced over to the cot in the hull unable to help your lips perk into a smile, a child. You were his “crew”, or at least that’s what he said when he hired you. You imagined he would have a crew of a few— perhaps a mechanic, an engineer, a child minder. And yet, it was just you, the child and The Mandalorian. You didn’t ever question him because you were so infatuated by him. You even liked being his “crew” even though sometimes it got lonely. You liked it because you got to spend time with him.

And he liked spending time with you too. Maybe a little too much for a Mandalorian. Truthfully, it scared him, and the Mandalorian wasn’t afraid of much. But spending time with you on the Crest had only set his heart on you. When he first encountered the Child on Arvala-7, he felt something in his gut. Meaning, purpose, and love. A love so intense he never thought he’d feel it again but yet, as he looked into your eyes, he felt the exact same feeling.

Only it wasn’t the exact same feeling, it was almost, stronger. More intense. Like a hunger for you, or a desperation for you to feel the same way as he did. But there was no way he could ever be sure because how would he ever ask a question like that? You didn’t even know his real name.

“Cyar’ika.” the Mandalorian mumbled under his modulated breath. It was his name for you. What he had always called you since the day you first became crew, and everytime he called you that, you were filled with a deep feeling of passion and warmth. It was Mando’a, you were pretty sure- the language of a Mandalorian, which of course you didn’t understand. You were just glad he could speak Basic as well. But the way the word rolled of his tongue felt so magical, like music to your ears. 

“Will you ever tell me what that word means, Mando?” you sighed exasperated, but your smile lit a fire in his stomach. You awaited his response that had become predictable at this point. The same response he’d give everytime you asked. It was always a sharp “No” and he’d walk away disgruntled. He was so secretive about the word. At first his closed off aura about it only made you feel more curious but you didn’t want to find out what it meant. If you were going to find out, you’d want to hear it from him. No one else.  He was your Mando, and you were his Cyar’ika. And that’s just the way it was. Moments had passed and the Mandalorian didn’t respond, at all. “Mando?” you whispered his name and raised your hand his face, cupping his helmet, letting the cool beskar sting the palm of your hand.

“It means,” the Mandalorian breathed. Your heart rate began to pick up speed. Was he actually going to tell you? After months and months the Mandalorian was finally going to tell you what his little pet name for you was. “Womprat.”

“Womprat,” you smiled graciously, repeating his statement like it was music to your ears. Like it was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. Then you realised what he had said, what he had called you. “Womprat?!” you shouted, furrowing your eyebrows. The Mandalorian stood up and ran to the hull of the ship. You chased after him, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or feel genuinely attacked over the fact he had been calling you Womprat this whole time. The Mandalorian picked up a piece of brown cashmere that the Child had dropped from his cot while sleeping. He put it back in the cot, only for the child to push it back out again. The Mandalorian tucked the cashmere further into the cot, but the Child pushed it back out again. “I don’t think he wants it.” you sighed bitterly. Womprat. The Mandalorian tucked the piece of cashmere into his holster and looked back at you. Womprat. Not knowing what to do, or to say, you spat it in a fluster of anger. “Cyar’ika.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet snapped in your direction. “What?” he said, his voice alarmed.

“You heard me, Cyar’ika.” you pointed your finger into his chest plate, hard. You couldn’t even identify your own tone of voice. You couldn’t identify your own feelings.

“Don’t call me that.” The Mandalorian replied.

“It’s not nice, is it?”

“You don’t like it when I call you Cyar’ika?” The Mandalorian quizzed, almost sounding, hurt. You felt your heart sink into your chest. You did like it when he called you Cyar’ika. The word sounded beautiful everytime it rolled off his tongue. But knowing it meant Womprat... “Y/N, you don’t even know what it means.”

You had hurt him. You had definitely hurt his feelings. That was the first time he had called you by your name since you first introduced yourself to him. He never ever said your name. On impulse, you put your hand to his arm and ran your fingers under the beskar, squeezing him through his tunic in reassurance. “I... I love it when you call me Cyar’ika...” you whispered. “But, Womprat?”

The Mandalorian paused. “Womprat?”

“You called me Womprat.”

“I didn’t call you Womprat.” the Mandalorian was bewildered.

“You called me Cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika doesn’t mean...” the Mandalorian’s voice trailed off. “The child dropped this,” he pointed to the cashmere that he had stuffed down his holster. “I called him Womprat. I called him Womprat because he distracted me, from you. From, looking at you.”

What was he saying? You felt your cheeks flush red, ashamed at your misunderstanding. You felt comfortable in knowing that all this time the Mandalorian wasn’t calling you Womprat. But that means... “Distracted you from looking at me?” you quizzed him.

“You’re mesh’la.” He said without hesitation. The Mandalorian was smiling under his helmet as you furrowed your eyebrows once again and hit his arm, playfully. He knew exactly what he was doing — teasing you.

“Mesh’la.” You repeated, dumbfounded by more use of Mando’a.

“Beautiful.” The Mandalorian translated. The seriousness of his tone hit you and your smile faded away as you looked up at him. Your heart was beating against your chest. He called you beautiful. The Mandalorian just called you beautiful.

“You think I’m...”

“Mesh’la.” The Mandalorian chuckled and you laughed back, unable to hide the grin anymore. Excited, you put both hands either side of his helmet. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see his face now more than ever, and he wanted to see you, look at you without his visor. He wanted to feel his own eyes burn against your skin. Every day The Mandalorian had contemplated giving up “the way” if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with you and the kid. He thought about the bliss of spending the rest of his life with you two. “There’s something, Cyar’ika... there’s something I want to do.”

You blinked. “Yeah?” You looked around the hull, at the sleeping child, and then back to The Mandalorian, unsure what he was suggesting.

“But I don’t know how.” He admitted and you raised an eyebrow. What was he implying? You wondered.

“If you don’t know how, why are you telling me? There’s no way I know how...” You told him. The Mandalorian was a skilled man of many talents, he could do just about anything. He was the smartest guy you had ever met in the whole galaxy.

He took a step closer to you, breaking any distance. “I think you definitely know how.” The Mandalorian whispered, pulling off his mustard coloured gloves. His fingers found their way into your hair as he tucked a falling strand of it behind your ear, and you felt that familiar fluttery feeling become more intense. His skin, his hands... tan. You were right. A feeling of relief washed over you as you realised they were human hands. There was always the small risk of The Mandalorian being gungan, or, whatever species the child was. “You’re beautiful. You definitely...” his fingers traced over your lips, silencing you from speaking. But you didn’t need to say another word of persistence because you already knew what he wanted. He held his fingers over your lips.

A kiss. You raised your hand pulled his finger away from your mouth, but still not letting go off his hand. You slipped your fingers through his and held him. He had never held hands with anyone before, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt skin-on-skin contact. To The Mandalorian, this was bliss. You both stood there, hand in hand, in the hull of the dark ship.

“But, you’re a Mandalorian,” you whispered sadly, knowing it would be enough of an explanation for him to reject a kiss. Part of you didn’t mind. You wanted to see him, hold him, kiss him, but you felt something so amazing for him... a connection so deep, that you would respect his religion even if it meant you couldn’t do all those things. You would respect “the way” even though you weren’t a Mandalorian yourself. You would respect, because you respected him.

“No living thing has seen me...” the Mandalorian began to explain but you cut him off.

“I know.” You looked down at the ground, but as your eyes fell, your gaze attached itself to the piece of brown cloth stuffed in The Mandalorian’s holster. You looked at for a second and then reached down to pull it out. The Mandalorian watched your movement as you stood there analysing the piece of cloth. “So I don’t see you.” You whispered, a burning sensation filling the pit of your stomach. You had found a hole in the Mandalorian code, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Cyar’ika, I don’t understand.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. You bit your lip and passed him the piece of cloth once again.

“Put this on me. Like a blindfold,” you explained. The Mandalorian was bearing the biggest grin under his mouth. This was exactly why he loved you so much. “I want to try it.” The Mandalorian obliged and wrapped the cashmere around your eyes, completely blinding you. You stumbled a little as darkness enveloped your surroundings, but The Mandalorian caught you with ease. “I can’t see.” You whispered.

You heard the click of the Mandalorian’s helmet coming off, and the fuzz of the modulator. You heard it clank against the control panel of the ship, and then you knew. He was helmetless. All the questions you had burning in your mind, the way you wanted to know every detail of his face, and although you couldn’t see him, he was there. Face exposed, for you. To kiss you. You waited patiently to feel his lips against yours. To feel the kiss you had dreamed of for so long, but you didn’t even recognise any movement. “Mando?” you asked out loud, wondering if he was even still there.

“Yeah,” The Mandalorian replied instantly. You heard him take a step closer to you and felt him wrap his arms around you. “It’s just, I’ve never... I’ve never...”

Your lips curved into a smile that you knew would relax him. “So let me lead.” You whisper, and let your hands trial up his body of beskar. You concentrate, making sure to be gentle. Your fingers brush against his cape and eventually your hands find their way to his neck. You feel him wince under your touch, and you bring your hands up just a little bit more so your fingers rest on his scruffy jawline. “Wow,” you breathed out in awe. He even had the stubble you imagined. You spent a few seconds touching his face, feeling the way his cheekbones dipped in so slightly and the way his nose curved. You cupped his cheeks and moved your thumbs, feeling the curved corners of his smile. The Mandalorian was smiling. And it wasn’t just any smile, he had the biggest grin. He felt pure elation.

You pulled yourself on to your tippy toes and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest, and you pressed your lips against his. Soft, warm. His firm embrace and gentle hands pushed you in to deepen the kiss and you did so willfully. He tasted like heaven, and this was everything the Mandalorian could ever dream of. Eventually, you broke the kiss and you felt him let you go. You stumbled backwards, unable to wipe the smile from your face. You felt such contentment, you felt your cheeks blush red and you heard the clicking of the beskar helmet as the Mandalorian adjusted it back on his head. “How was that?” you beamed.

His voice was back to normal, masked by the modulator. “Cyarika...” he said. “It means beloved.”

———

I hope you liked this!!! thank you for reading <3

[theladyofdeath]

Get a Clue {ACOTAR}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 30.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Warning: language.

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

I know, I’m a little past the date....but, we wanted to post anyway. :)

Prompt sent in by @photofeesh​

Elain was dressed in her finest 1950s attire. It was her first character-themed murder mystery party, and she had decided there was no better time to throw it than on Halloween. The theme? Clue. And since none of them knew their character until everyone arrived, they decided to dress in 1950s wear, due to the fact that the board game had been invented around that time.

The girls used to love playing Clue as children.

Nesta would always get pissed if she didn’t win, Feyre was usually doodling while they were playing, and Elain just loved to have fun; but, no matter how the game went, they all got excited to play together. It was one of Elain’s fondest memories of her childhood: playing board games on rainy days with her sisters. 

“I look ridiculous!”

Elain rolled her eyes as she adjusted the gloves that she wore. “You look handsome!”

He stepped out of his closet. The blue ascot tied around his throat was loose, but he tugged on it as if it were a noose.

The dark blue naval uniform looked like it was made for him, but it hadn’t been. It had belonged to the girls’ papa and seeing Azriel wear it brought a huge smile to Elain’s face

He couldn’t complain when she looked at him like that. “I’m not putting the hat on,” he grumbled.

His hair was slicked back, and Elain found herself wishing that she was born in the 50’s so she could look at Azriel like this every day.

Heading downstairs to make sure everything was ready, she paused to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, you are,” she said, with a smile.

She could hear Azriel groan as she took to the stairs, knowing full well that he’d do anything to please her.

Mor was in Elain’s kitchen, sealing the final envelope.

“No!” she yelled, clutching all the envelopes to her chest. “I haven’t hid them yet!”

Elain chuckled. “I have to take out my chicken!”

Mor narrowed her eyes but hurried away, nonetheless, taking her envelopes along with her. When Elain mentioned that she wanted to throw a murder mystery party, Mor was the first to volunteer to be the mediator of the whole thing. Mor definitely had a flare for the dramatics, but she also loved to know things others didn’t. Therefore, she offered to be the one to hide the envelopes and watch everyone else go crazy trying to figure out her riddle. 

It wasn’t long before everyone arrived. Feyre and Rhysand first, having sent their three-month-old infant away with a sitter for the first time, even though the sitter was just Rhysand’s sister. Cassian and Nesta showed up next, and ten minutes late, in true Nesta fashion. Lucien was the last to arrive, bringing a plate of brownies. Unlike Nesta, Lucien’s late arrival was excused, considering he had to work until 6:45 on the opposite end of town. 

“Do we get to eat first?” Cassian asked, his stomach grumbling so loud that everyone could hear. Elain had to admit that the 1950s were kind to the men in their lives.

Cassian looked like an old-time greaser in his rolled up jeans, his black Converse, his plain white tee, and his leather jacket. A cigarette rested behind his ear and his newly cropped, chin-length hair was greased back. He was the complete opposite of Nesta, who wore the cutest, knee-length circle dress. Her hair was in tight curls, and she finished her outfit with a pearl necklace and white gloves.

They were the living image of Danny and Sandy.

Elain felt the sudden urge to sing, but controlled herself.

Feyre and Rhys, however, looked like the President and CEO of a very well established 50’s business. They weren’t, obviously, but the vest, wool overcoat and thin tie Rhys wore and the very smart, but powerful sheath skirt and top Feyre wore would have fooled anyone. The red bowler hat she wore complimented the look flawlessly.

Then there was Lucien in his khakis, suspenders, plaid button down tee, and slicked back, fiery red hair. 

Elain’s friends had done her proud. “Dinner is a part of the game. So, if you all would follow me to the dining room table.” 

No one complained at that request. Cassian was the first to sit down, and Nesta was rolling her eyes as she joined him to his right.  

“As we start our meal, I’m going to pass the basket around. There’s an envelope for boys, and an envelope for the girls. Pick your character.” As Elain sat down, she held her basket to her right, where Lucien was sitting, already filling half his plate with corn. 

She adjusted the floppy, but adorable hat on her head and said, “You can tell us all who you are, but the rest of the information needs to be learned throughout the night, as you’re being asked questions.”

Nesta took the basket from Lucien and she and Cassian both removed a small piece of paper. She glanced in the envelopes. “Why do the guys have an extra character that the girls don’t have?”

“Someone has to be the dead guy,” Mor shrugged.

“Sweet,” Cassian said, grinning. “I hope I get to be the dead guy.” He looked at the slip in his hand and groaned. “Man. I’m Colonel Mustard. I don’t get to be the dead guy.”

Without a word, Azriel dropped to the floor, making Feyre jump.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

He looked up at her with a smirk. “My name is Mr. Boddy. And I’m the dead guy.”

Azriel was laying on his stomach and when Elain rolled her eyes and held the basket out to Feyre and Rhys, he knocked the stupid hat off of his head.

If he had been murdered, the hat never would have stayed on anyways.

“I’m Miss Scarlet,” Feyre announced. “You?”

“Professor Plum,” Rhysand snorted. “Of course.” 

The basket got back to Elain, and she picked the last slip of paper from the girl’s envelope. She beamed, “I’m Mrs. White, which means Nesta must be Mrs. Peacock?”

Nesta held up the slip in her hand that proved Elain was correct.

“And Luce is Mr. Green,” Elain said, giving her best friend the side eye. 

Lucien grinned, stuffing his mouth full of chicken. 

Azriel reached up from the floor and stole a roll from the basket.

“So, how does this go, Mor?” Cassian asked, his mouth full.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian didn’t bother swallowing. “Okay, mom.”

“Well,” Mor said, clapping her hands together as Azriel dragged his entire plate down to the rug beneath the table. “On the back of your slips is a character description. You all need to follow the character description, along with the other details noted on your paper. We’ll start ruling people out until someone realizes who the killer is. In each room, there’s an envelope, hidden. Throughout the party, when you find an envelope, there are clues that will help you rule out specific characters, weapons, and rooms. I have an envelope inside my jacket pocket. Inside that envelope is the killer, the room in which Mr. Boddy was killed, and the weapon that was used to kill him.”

“Does the killer know who the killer is?” Cassian asked.

“We just picked our characters two seconds ago, Cass,” Feyre snorted.

“No,” Elain said, politely. “The murderer was chosen at random.”

“How do we know you didn’t rig the game?” Azriel asked, voice muffled by the table.

“Because,” Mor said, eyeing Azriel under the table. He smirked as he took another huge bite of green beans. “I am nothing but an honest woman.”

“This is actually your house though,” Cassian said, pointing at Azriel. “And Mr. Boddy is the owner of the house in Clue. What if I would have been the dead guy, would we have had to be at our place? A two bedroom apartment with three cats wouldn’t have been near as fun.”

Elain was pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing quietly.

Cassian took a drink of his wine and muttered, “It would definitely have been one of the cats.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Everyone understand the rules of the game?” 

A series of nods rounded the table. 

Elain smiled brightly. “Then let the game begin!”

“Can we finish eating first?” Cassian asked, his mouth still full.

Nesta just sighed, and shook her head.

“I hope so,” Azriel muttered. “No telling how long it will take you lot to figure out who killed me, and I’m starving.”

“You can eat while you play,” Elain said, pointedly toward her fiancé.

“You mean while I’m dead?” He asked. “Because I’m dead, I can’t answer any questions, so…”

He trailed off and shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Professor Plum?”

“Yes, Ms. Peacock?” He said, falling into character.

She stood, picking up her wine glass. “I’ve run out of wine, will you accompany me to the kitchen? I’ve got some questions I need to ask you.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t out of wine.”

With a heavy sigh, Nesta said, “I’m trying to be in character.”

He took a drink of his own wine, but said, “Sounds like your character needs to get her story straight.”

Looking him dead in the eye, she tipped her glass back and drained it. “Okay, now I need a refill. Plum, you’re with me.”

Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she headed for the kitchen and Rhys glared at Cassian. “Now I’m not going to get any information out of her.”

Cass smirked. “I know.”

Rhysand just shook his head as he followed Nesta into the kitchen. Cassian was instantly eyeing Lucien, who was sipping from his wine glass.

“Mr. Green,” Cassian began, cordially. 

Lucien blinked. “Yes, Colonel?” 

“Shall we leave these ladies alone and go for a walk of our own?” Cassian asked.

Lcien lifted an auburn brow. “Sounds like you’re flirting with me, Colonel.”

Azriel snorted from his place on the rug.

Cassian grinned. “Don’t let Peacock hear you. She gets jealous.” 

Lucien laughed as he pushed himself up from the table. The men, with their plates in hand, went into the living room.

Elain faced Feyre, who was already watching her with narrowed eyes. 

Feyre glanced down at her card. “Where were you at five this afternoon, Mrs. White?”

Elain didn’t skip a beat. “Changing the sheets in the master bedroom, of course.”

Feyre sipped from her glass. “And why was there need to change the sheets?” 

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Shut up, Miss Scarlet, goodness.” 

“Can I go be dead in the living room?” Azriel asked from the floor. 

“Shh, you’re dead,” Feyre said, not looking away from the face of innocence in front of her. “What I meant was…” A dramatic pause. “There wasn’t blood on the sheets from where you stabbed him with a knife was there?”

Azriel murmured from the floor, “Jesus, Feyre, bury the lead.”

“Of course not,” Elain said, a hand pressed to her heart. “I always change the sheets on Tuesday.”

From the floor, “It’s Friday, babe.”

“…on Friday,” she corrected herself.

Feyre narrowed her eyes at her sister again, standing from her chair and walking around the table to grab a roll. “Your story checks out. You’re off the hook…for now.”

“I think a better question is where were you at the time of the murder, Miss Scarlett,” Elain asked, eyeing Feyre.

“Easy,” she said, pausing with a hand on her hip. “Professor Plum was teaching me a lesson.”

“Boooo!” Clearly, the rug hadn’t liked Feyre’s innuendo.

“You know, you’re loud for a corpse,” Elain said, looking down at Azriel, and back to Feyre, who was smirking. “And could he corroborate that story?”

“Professor Plum!” Feyre called.

He poked his head in from the kitchen a moment later. “Yeah?”

Feyre gestured to Rhys. “Go ahead.”

Clearing her throat, Elain asked, “Where were you at the time of the murder, Professor?”

“Banging Miss Scarlet,” he replied, without missing a beat, smirk growing.

Feyre’s grin widened.

Elain cleared her throat. “Thank you…Professor.”

“Anytime,” he winked, before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

“Is that all?” Feyre crooned.

Elain cleared her throat. “How is it that you know Mr. Boddy?”

Feyre’s brows scrunched together, unsure of how to answer, but then Elain cleared her throat and gestured down at the notecard in Feyre’s hand.

“Oh,” Feyre began. “We are….having an affair, it seems.”

“My, Mr. Boddy, Professor Plum. You sure do have a long list of lovers, Miss Scarlet. Perhaps a jilted lover had found out about your affair with Mr. Boddy. Or maybe Mr. Boddy found out about Professor Plum?”

“I was open about my promiscuous lifestyle,” Feyre said, yawning dramatically. “Now if you'll excuse me, Mrs. White, I’ve grown bored of this conversation.”

Elain’s mouth fell open but she did nothing more as Feyre dramatically made her exit.

Azriel snorted. “Ouch.”

“Hush, dead man,” she whispered, harshly.

The dead man's grin only widened.

As Elain made her way into the living room and snatched Lucien from Cassian’s attentions, someone new soon filled them. Mrs. Peacock perched herself on his lap.

“Well, hello,” he said, dragging a hand up her thigh.

“Colonel,” she said, with an over exaggerated southern drawl.

Cassian snorted. “I don’t remember Mrs. Peacock being a southern bell.”

“Instead of what you don’t remember, how about we talk about what you do remember?” Nesta reached into the pocket of his jacket. “How exactly did this wrench come to be on your person?”

Cassian took a long drink out of his glass of wine — which he used as an excuse to look at his character slip — before saying, “My cat broke down today and I had to fix it. Must have accidentally brought it with me.”

Nesta blinked, then whispered, “Your…cat, Cass?”

Cassian’s brows drew together as he looked back down at his notecard. “Car. My car. I meant….car. My car broke down, hence the wrench.”

“And when did your car break down?” Nesta continued, after she rolled her eyes. 

“This afternoon,” Cassian shot back.

“At what time?” Nesta asked.

Cassian looked back down at his notecard. “At four-thirty this afternoon. I then spent the rest of my afternoon working on my car, until I came here, of course.”

“For someone who’s been working on his car all afternoon you sure are clean,” she noted.

“I, uh-.” Cassian froze and glanced down at his card, for some fact of information that may help out. “I always carry a change of clothes with me. It never hurts to be prepared.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Prepared for what?”

He squeezed one of her thighs. “Prepared for anything.” He smacked her ass and asked, “What about you, Mrs. Peacock?” He enunciated the last word.

“What about me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can’t help but notice I missed you in the parlor for drinks,” he mused, raising a glass of whiskey to his lips. Nesta blinked. She wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it from, the glass of wine was still sitting on the table beside him. “Mr. Boddy was also suspiciously absent.”

Nesta’s brows rose. “What are you implying?”

Cassian shrugged. “That Miss Scarlet wasn’t Boddy’s only lover.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed with such distaste that it was hard for Cassian to stay in character. “Is that what you think, Colonel?”

Cassian cleared his throat and muttered under his breath, “Just a side note, I love it when you call me that in that damned accent.”

Nesta gave him a small, mischievous grin. “Noted.”

“I think,” he began, slipping back into character, “Mr. Boddy told you your secret tryst was over and you retaliated.”

Nesta chuckled and squeezed Cassian’s leather covered shoulder. “A good theory, but you should have done your research, Colonel.” Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed but Nesta continued. “Mr. Boddy was my brother. Estranged. I was here tonight to make amends.”

He asked, “Peacock is your married name?” She nodded. “What happened to Mr. Peacock?”

“Nothing you can prove,” she said, with a smirk. “But I wasn’t present for drinks because I was doing drugs in my room.”

Cassian blinked. “Oh.”

“Yes, I have a drug problem.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really? Or are you making that up to throw me off?”

“Heroin.” Nesta’s face was deadpan and he was about to suggest they have a talk with Elain after the game when she smirked. “No, I fell asleep in my room. I had a long drive in and needed a nap before I was pleasant for company.”

“I see,” Cassian muttered. “Now, back to Mr. Peacock… Are you completely over him? Or…”

Nesta rolled her eyes but pressed a kiss to Cassian’s lips before pushing herself off of him and walking toward Lucien on the other side of the room.

“Finally, time alone with the colonel.” Cassian looked up to find Feyre, sipping from a glass of wine, plopping down on the couch beside his chair.

“That sounds terrifying coming from you,” Cassian mumbled.

“Don’t tell the professor,” she said with a wink. 

“It’s fortuitous that you were wanting to speak with me,” Cassian said, matching Nesta’s overly dramatic southern drawl. “Cause I was wanting to speak with you, Miss Scarlet.”

“Oh?” She crossed a leg and raised an eyebrow.

“Rumor has it you were quite familiar with our late host,” he said.

“Rumors can sometimes be true, and sometimes be false,” she said, adjusting her hair. At some she’s ditched the bowler hat. Cassian was willing to bet that it had something to do with the fact that her cheeks were as red as her hat was. And her glass was nearly empty again. A year of not drinking had turned Feyre into a lightweight.

“So, which was it?” Cassian pressed. “True or false?”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed as she finished off her glass. “Butler!”

With a snort, Mor came to Feyre’s side with a bottle of white wine and refilled Feyre’s glass. Before she left, she coughed, “Under the coffee table.”

Both Feyre and Cassian blinked as she walked away.

As Feyre started sipping her new glass of wine, Cassian was reaching under the coffee table, where he pulled out a manila envelope that read Living Room.

Feyre’s brow arched as she snatched it away from him and opened it up. She pulled out a single, white feather. “What the hell is this?”

“A clue,” Cassian whispered, taking it away from her. “A white feather.” He was looking around at all the characters, trying to scope out what their notecards said about their personalities. “What does it mean?”

Feyre stared at the feather for a second before saying, “I dunno, I’m too drunk to form a thought.” 

“Is it from a hat? One of those ridiculous things women wear around their necks like a scarf? From a pillow? Feather-duster?” Cassian guessed, then gasped. “What if it has to do with the color and not the feather itself?” His eyes shot to Elain. “Mrs. White is the murderer?”

Feyre shook her head. “I may be drunk, but even I know you can’t have a case based on one clue, Colonel.”

“No, but one clue can get you closer to solving it,” he replied, tucking it behind his ear.

Feyre looked at Cassian for a moment with the most serious of expressions before bursting into laughter. Cassian shot Rhysand a look from across the room, but Feyre’s husband was watching her with the utmost adoration. 

And so the night went on.

There were arguments and accusations and all the while, the wine continued to flow. At some point, Azriel excused himself to open a bottle of whiskey, which he generously offered a glass of to his brothers and Nesta, before he retook his spot on the floor, bottle still in his hand.

Nearly two hours later, the entire group was back in the living room. Azriel was in a chair now, thank the Cauldron, but now there was a prop knife jammed between his arm and side, “stabbing” him. He silently continued to sip on his wine, watching in amusement as Nesta and Rhys yelled at each other, arguing over whether he was stabbed or beaten over the head with a pipe.

“There’s not nearly enough blood for him to have been stabbed!” Rhys said, extending his arm towards Azriel.

“It’s not real,” Nesta cried, enunciating the words. “Did you expect Elain to let Mor spray her house in fake blood?”

“If she were committed, she would have,” Azriel said, but Elain glanced over at him and he became as quiet as the dead man he was pretending to be and put his glass back to his lips.

“I’m right,” Nesta hissed.

“Uh, no, I’m right,” Rhysand argued, his arms crossed. “I know who the murderer is, I’ve figured it out.”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s shit, but okay, go ahead.”

Rhyasnd lifted one brow. “Fine. Murderer? You. Weapon? Rope. Room? Kitchen.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but looked at Mor alongside everyone else.

Mor looked back and forth between Nesta and Rhysand before slowly shaking her head.

“Ha!” Nesta yelled, pointing her finger at Rhysand. “You failed!”

“My gods, I’ve never loved you more,” Cassian muttered, sipping from his glass.

“I win,” Nesta announced, simply. 

Rhysand was not going down easily. “No, you do not win.” 

“No?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms, as the rest of them watched her and Rhysand’s little display. “The killer is Miss Scarlett. Weapon? Rope. Room? Bedroom.”

The room was quiet for a moment before Mor said, “She’s right.”

“She killed him because he was going to end their affair, essentially cutting her off from the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to living,” Nesta said, not a hint of doubt on her face.

Rhys looked to Mor who shrugged. “She’s right again.”

Rhys breathed, “Damn it,” and dropped down next Miss Scarlett.

Who had been drooling on the arm of the couch since nine o’clock.

Rhysand shook his head as he looked down at his sleeping, drunk, passed out wife.

“I’m right?” Nesta repeated, and looked to Cassian with wide eyes. “What do I win?”

Mor hesitated. “What do you win?”

Nesta nodded, looking at Elain. “Yeah, I won, there’s a prize, right?”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip. “There’s….cake.”

Nesta followed Elain’s gaze to where the half-eaten cake sat on the dining room table.

“You win half a bottle of whiskey,” Az said, leaning forward and setting the bottle

and the fake knife on the table in the center of the room.

Nesta raised an eyebrow as she looked at Azriel. “That’s almost completely empty.”

He shrugged. “You got to enjoy your prize early.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled and grabbed the bottle regardless. They all couldn’t help the smiles on their faces, all except for Feyre, who Rhys had gathered in his arms, ready to take her home. More laughs and love had been shared tonight than some people got to experience in a lifetime.

None of them had a clue how they got so lucky.

[salty-fang]

Twisted fate: Sugar edition

Chapter 2-

Marinette thought she was getting better. She really did. After all, she had adjusted to Gotham’s dark atmosphere and had only cried about losing Adrien twice. Per day. For a month. She was puzzled as to how she had ended up snarfing down Rocky road ice cream whilst bookmarking photos of Adrien. Upon noticing his toothy grin, captivating eyes and playful demeanour, a wan smile fixed itself on her face.

“No. Bad Marinette!” She remembered how quick he dropped her for Gabriel’s wishes and felt the cold, clammy hands of betrayal lace themselves around her throat.

‘Tight. Too. Tight.’ Her chest constricted as she let out a choked gasp. Her hands reached to shut her desktop down. Memories, terrible memories, flashed in her eyes. She had recognised those olive-green eyes. Those eyes clouded by greed, thirst and hunger. Hunger to trample the hopes of any opposition. Hunger to humiliate her. Hunger to seize every last important thing from her.

In a flurry, photos of her and Adrien came raining down. The mirth and adoration in her eyes evaporated, replaced by pain and bloodlust. Her bluebell eyes radiated a frigid coolness as her eyes fell upon the picture of Adrien and her third anniversary. Traitor. Her doe eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. Anger rolled off of her with each picture she ripped. She had read the attacks, the taunts and jabs at her for being a ‘whore, gold-digger’ and ‘attention seeker’. She had seen Adrien’s unresponsiveness to the situation, leaving her for the hounds to devour. Coward. She’d seen pictures of Adrien and that witch frolicking as she was left to pick up the broken pieces of her heart.

An unquenchable flame raged in her heart. With every memory, the flame burned brighter until the ache for love became unbearable. She hadn’t asked to be broken. She hadn’t asked to not be good enough. She hadn’t asked to lose control of her heart like she did but it still happened.

‘We could never be satisfied,’ she thought. The dull thrum of her heart rang in her ears as silence hung in the air. She knew she was anything special but, damn it, she thought she could be enough.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding onto her sanity. A war waged in her mind as she searched blindly for anything, anything to ground her. She shouldn’t cry. He wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her. She wouldn’t -. A sound that could only be described as pure grief ripped through her throat, slashing the air. She rocked herself hoping, wishing and praying for his return to her.

She fondly whispered “He’ll come back. He always has, the idiot.” A glint of resignation shone in her eyes before she slept, her back against the wall by the door.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Damian loved Gina. He really did. He loved her composure in the face of danger and her frankly reckless attitude. But if one more person breathed her name, he would throttle them. So, when Todd teased Alfred for his fresh attire for Gina, he silently thanked the heavens for the opportunity to release some energy. He pounced, lunging for Todd’s throat wrapping his hands loosely. Nah, who was he kidding, his hands coiled tightly around his neck.

“Demon spawn, the hell?” Jason managed to choke out. Damian relished the pink hue that had crept up Jason’s face.

“Tim-no. Richard- ack, not you either,” Bruce started, voice hesitant. “Uh Duke?” he tried fumbling about for glasses and his coffee. “Ja-"

“Don’t even think about it old man, it’s Damian, you dolt,” Jason winced as he felt the nails dig into his neck.

"Ah yes, Damian, let go of him this instant. It is Damian, right? Right?" He heard the thud of someone's body hitting the floor.

Damian knew he hadn’t lost his touch. Assassin’s blood would forever run in his blood. His family were moronic buffoons, that he knew. But, if they thought he was turning ‘soft’ then they weren’t doing much to challenge the status quo and prove him wrong. They were simpletons through and through. And though he would never admit it, he loved them for it. As Jason warned him to watch his back, he couldn’t deny the thrill, the rush of adrenaline that ran through his body. Man, he loved this family.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette felt weird. She knew something was wrong. The lingering feeling had teased her subconscious for a while, now. And if the urge to constantly pee, excessive vomiting and constant fatigue was anything to go on... she was pretty certain she had an inkling as to what was happening.

All it took was that test and she had her suspicions confirmed. The two lines that appeared filled her with dread and excitement. Choosing to focus on the latter for now, she squealed, shaking and shimmying the best that she could with her heavy feet. She was PREGNANT.

Crap, she was pregnant. They hadn’t talked about children. They hadn’t talked about raising a child. Their apartment wouldn’t have enough space for all of them. They didn’t have a name. They knew nothing about childbirth. They simply weren’t ready. Worst case scenarios ran through her head. What if she wasn’t a good mom? What if Adrien left her? What if he hated their baby? Or worse, what if she hated her baby?

'Wait... they used p-p-protection. So how?’ The notion cut off her train of thoughts, turning her into a blushing mess. She could feel the heat sear through her cheeks and she could see the contrast of her freckles against her flushed face.

‘Oh no. She couldn’t tell Adrien; she couldn’t burden him like that. Not when he already had so much on his plate. She wouldn’t tell him but maybe she could hint at it. Yes, that would be the ideal course of action.’

Adrien really was the most oblivious human alive. Marinette had forgotten about that factor. Two months later and Adrien still hadn’t gotten a clue. She refused to believe he was that blissfully ignorant. She stroked her developing stomach, contemplating whether she would just tell him or surprise him with a kid. She was opting for the second option as Adrien had looked more stressed than ever, running errands for Gabriel more frequently. God, she hated that man. He constantly critiqued her for ‘not being good enough for his son. After all, she was a Baker’s daughter.’

Marinette could still remember the times when Gabriel had tried to persuade her to leave Adrien without an explanation. He’d threaten her, try to win her over with money; anything to let his son be rid of her. Marinette knew the pain of being left in the lurch. She knew the pain of wondering if it was her fault. She knew the pain of wondering where it went wrong. She wouldn’t do it to him. Not like that.

And then, he’d broken up with her. She had regretted nothing. She’d left him whole. Maybe a little damaged but not scarred. And that was most important to her. She’d regret nothing. It was the least she could do to salvage what was left of her chipped heart.

Marinette had awoken to tender kisses placed on her forehead. Her Nonna looked like a mess. She looked frazzled yet she focused her energy into calming a frantic Marinette.

“Netta, my fairy, I’m,” Marinette whimpered. She could hear the shakiness in her Gigi’s voice. She was a bad luck charm. She always caused pain for everyone. Slowly, she peered up at Gina expecting disappointment to be etched on her face. Yet her face shone with love and her eyes were filled with pity, no, guilt. “I’m so sorry. I broke our pact. I’m no better than them.”

She curled in on herself, head bowed, breaths shallow.

“I’ve hurt you Marinette, I’m a failure.” A short sharp ‘enough’ cut her off. Leaving no room for deliberation, Marinette said

“Nonna, please, if anyone’s a failure, it’s me. I mean who would want a single, unemployed pregnant woman?” Gina sat with wild eyes, jaw slack as she processed what Marinette had just said.

“Hold up, you’re PREGNANT?”

“Have been for the last three months but you know.” She shrugged. She’d processed this already but Gina hadn’t. Gina had switched from pained to bubbly in the span of a few seconds. She screamed before peppering Marinette with questions. Marinette had answered most of her questions and told her killing Agreste- which one she had been referring to was a mystery- was off the table. She’d crush him and make him beg for mercy in her own time. She told her how ‘Adrien hadn’t known’ and by the time they’d finished, it was past midnight. Gina pulled her into a bone-crushing hug before tucking her into bed.

Marinette woke up with a sore back, throbbing headache and bloodshot eyes. She noticed Gina had crashed on the floor beside her sofa. The events of what had occurred last night replayed in her mind. She really fell asleep with his picture beside her for comfort. She’d called his girlfriend a witch. How was she supposed to look him in the eyes after that? She couldn’t even look herself in the eyes. She really wasn’t looking forward to their ‘date’ today. She rose, albeit reluctantly, and stretched. With a steady hand, she applied her mascara onto her lashes. Clad in a baby blue sundress and floppy hat, she set out in a bid to meet Adrien.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Marinette had arrived late but she had not expected this. Adrien and her had been enjoying their date and she had loved her triangle sandwiches. So, when Lila sashayed over, hips swinging , her mood soured and she groaned. Loudly. Apparently, that fuelled Lila's desire as she launched into an awkward kiss, teeth clashing against Adrien’s. Adrien remained motionless as she kissed him once. Twice. He felt her bite down hard on his bottom lip. He felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He felt her tongue slip into his mouth, demanding satisfaction.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ he wondered. ‘I should be enjoying this. So, why does it feel so wrong?’

He responded on instinct, battling her tongue with his own, with an intensity he had saved for Marinette. When they pulled apart, saliva intertwined and breaths heavy, he noticed the hungry look in Lila's eyes. She seemed to forget Marinette’s presence as she moved to straddle his hips. An over exaggerated cough had Lila leaping from his lap, yelping before her eyes settled on the culprit. Marinette. Lila chose to sit beside Adrien, wrapping an arm around his tense shoulders.

“Still disgustingly fake as ever Lie-la,” she drawled. “No personality but I see you have paid for implants.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but I’d be lying. And I don’t lie,” she blinked innocently. “Now scram before things get a little steamy for your virgin eyes.” Her obnoxious voice grated on her nerves. She bit back a comeback as the urge to puke bubbled in her throat. She couldn’t stop herself as she vomited. Heavily. On Lila. At least Adrien had the sense to bound away before he got hit.

Lila was pissed. Marinette had wrecked her outfit with her sick. She couldn’t twist the situation maliciously as anyone with eyes could see Marinette was pregnant. So, in blind rage, she punched Marinette in the face.

“You deserve more, bitch.” Lila spat at Marinette. Lila had intended to punch her in the stomach when she felt a hand wrap around her fist. Marinette had growled at her and she actually felt scared. For the first time in her life, she backed down. She stalked away towards ‘her Adriboo’, who was having a hard time stifling his laughter. She pouted as she realised that her pride bruised.

“That will teach you to mess with me Lila.” Marinette levelled a glare at her before she bolted.

'Run.

Run! Don’t look back!

Just run!'

She didn’t stop until she was safely on her balcony and so, she missed Adrien intervening, Lila screaming and the stranger slinking in the shadows. She just felt so dizzy. Her insides swirled and she slumped against the balcony ledge. The hand she clamped over her mouth made the sensation worse. She threw up and from the sounds of it, she had hit someone.

‘I have to stop puking on people,’ she thought as she heard the cry of indignation from below. ‘Poor sap.’ Slowly, she retreated back into the hotel room to get some rest before she met the people who made her grandma so happy.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Damian was having a horrible day. First, Grayson had chosen him as the latest victim of his matchmaking attempts. Sitting in a cat themed coffee shop, he had listened to an attention seeking gold digger ramble on about herself for an hour and a half. Did she not get tired of her own voice? He knew he had, for certain. He was ready to curse Grayson’s awful choice in people again when something piqued his interest. A harlot was engaged in battle with an angel. And from the look of discomfort on the harpy’s face, the blue-eyed beauty was winning.

He knew he shouldn’t have followed her when she left but he felt a strong pull towards her. He knew she felt sick but he hadn’t expected her to puke on him. Granted, he was hiding and the balcony was pretty low... but still. He screeched in disgust as his suit and hair were covered in what looked like bird shit. It smelt like it too. So yeah, pretty horrible day. At the very least, he could look forward to Gina coming to the mansion later today. She’d cheer him up. He just knew it.

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. When was she going to get here? A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from earlier.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Go check out the salt version @loveswifi

Taglist: @lunathealphafemale @sassakitty @krispydefendorpolice @blackmagicforever @nach0ava @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @moonlightstar64 @iloveitwhen @little-angel1031 @screwthisshit111 @rebecarojas07 @animegirlweeb @mystery-5-5 @moonystars14 @gingerdaile @spyofthenightcourt

[pagingevilspawn]

Can you write a jolex Easter fic when they celebrate Easter with their kids. I would love that.

bunny kisses and easter wishes

I speed typed this lil thing, because I got this request a few days ago, so I apologize if it isn’t very good. and that it’s kinda short. i only really checked over this once, so i’m sorry if there’s a lot of mistakes. i just really wanted to get it out today. happy easter to all those who celebrate! 

Easter Sunday had become a big deal in the Karev household throughout the years. It’s love and intensity wasn’t nearly as close to the ever-so expensive Christmas, but it easily took over second place as the family’s favorite holiday. (For the kids at least. Jo and Alex would always love Halloween the most for many reasons.) They decorated their house’s outer appearance to the nines, complete with easter egg lights that stuck in the ground, small inflatables, signs, and the occasional plastic bunny or two. Hanging from the tree on their lawn were easter baskets that they had tied to a piece of string, full of fake grass and hand-dyed eggs in extravagant colors. Inside, they had set out the Easter themed tablecloth, and traditional candy from the holiday could be found inside of ceramic bowls in the shape of bunny’s.   

It came as no surprise when at exactly seven thirty in the morning, three children came bumbling into their room, feet heavy against the hardwood floors as they raced each other down the halls, eager to awake their parent’s first. They were told that they couldn’t wake up Alex and Jo earlier than that, or they would postpone the hunt. The oldest, Blaire, reached the two sleeping figues before her little brothers, running up to the bed and shaking them both awake. 

“Mommy, Daddy, get up get up!” she cheered, a wide grin across her face. At ten years old, she knew that the easter bunny wasn’t real, but it was still more than fun to hunt for eggs across the house. Plus, she knew how much her parent’s appreciated the fact that she still put on a show for her younger siblings, who were a few years younger than her, and still full of belief for traditional holiday characters.

Not even a second later, two more bodies came flying onto the bed, taking the liberty of jumping up and down to wake up their parents rather than shaking them. Their youngest, Chase, jumps onto his dad’s back in all of his two year old glory, as if Alex wasn’t already aware of the presence of the three in the room. Months upon months of being on high alert while raising them as newborns turned both him and Jo into incredibly light sleepers, much to their dismay. They had been awake the second their footsteps had come down the halls, it was just nice to close their eyes for a bit longer. 

Jo slowly wakes up next to him, giving him a sleepy, half smile that he never failed to make his heart stutter. She takes six year old Holden into her arms, giving him a hug as well as she could while he tried to squirm away. Being in first grade meant that he was too cool to give hugs to his mom, but Jo refused to acknowledge that, and still hugged and kissed him like he was still the tiny baby that would snuggle in her lap at every given opportunity. Sometimes, when he refused to give her a hug before he went into class, she would shout an ‘I love you baby’ just to get back at him. It was petty, but it worked, because after enough times he had learned to give his mom a hug before class. 

“No mommy! The easter bunny came!” the boy protests, eventually escaping her grasp when he lands back on the floor, brushing a strand of too-long hair out of his eyes. Jo had been trying to set up a haircut for the past week, but they both were struggling to find enough time out to do so. It wasn’t like Holden was complaining, actually preferring the floppy hair more than he shorter haircut, but Jo said that he wasn’t going to look like his Uncle Link used to as a grown man. (Which Holden hated, since Uncle Link was seriously the coolest and he would definitely have floppy hair if the blonde used to as well.) 

“I know. Give me and Daddy a minute, and we’ll be right down. In the meantime, go see if the easter bunny ate all of his carrots, ‘kay?” Jo mumbles, rubbing her palms against her eyes in an attempt to rid herself of sleep faster. Footsteps then padded out of the room and down the stairs, excited chatters echoing through the halls of the house. 

Jo and Alex give each other a small, exhausted smile. They had been up until two thirty that morning, hiding eggs after both working fifteen hour shifts, and to say they were tired was an understatement. Bags hung heavy under both of their eyes, but they both knew it would be worth it when they would see the kids hunt for the plastic eggs. They lean in and connect their lips for a quick peck because they were both aware of their terrible morning breath. When they pull away they both crash back onto their pillows, taking a few seconds to let the tiredness leave their bodies before the start of an eventful day. Dragging themselves out of bed, they brush their teeth and try to make themselves at least somewhat put together so they didn’t seem like absolute zombies in front of their kids. Jo pulls her phone off her charger, tucking it into the pocket of her robe before they head down the stairs, the kids eagerly sitting at the island next to a plate of ‘bunny eaten carrots’ and a note. 

“Mommy we can’t read it. The writing’s too messy.” Blaire complains, waving the paper around, surely wrinkling it a bit in the process. 

Jo holds back a chuckle. Alex’s penmanship was barely legible on it’s own, let alone when he was practically so tired he could barely take a few steps without feeling like he could slump over whatever surface was available to him and take a nap. 

“Hmm,” Jo hums, taking the paper and squinting to read it, struggling herself to figure out the words on the note. “Blaire, Holden, and Chase, Happy Easter! I have hidden forty-five eggs around the house for you to find this year, fifteen for each of you. Chase’s eggs have spots, Holden’s have stripes, and Blaire’s are plain. All eggs are hidden in the kitchen, living room, and dining room. Make sure not to take any eggs that aren’t yours. Happy hunting! Easter Bunny.” Jo reads off. 

She folds the paper in half, placing it back down on the island. “Before you guys find the eggs, open up your baskets.” She points to the three different colored baskets that were on the table, each holding separate items based on their children’s current interests. They dig in quickly, each pulling out the candy first, marshmallow peeps, chocolate bunnies, and packets of Reese’s peanut butter cups eggs. 

Blaire grabs her basket first, the purple wicker one with hints of green, her face lighting up when she sees the book she’d been eyeing for weeks now and a new shirt that she had been begging for since she saw it online last month. 

Hudson lets out a boyish cheer when he pulls two video games out of his basket, pumping a fist and smirking. Jo gives Alex a relieved smile. New video games were coming out constantly, and it seemed like the second they got him the one that was on trend, it was being replaced by another game. So, for the two games about blowing random things up to still be considered ‘in’ was something they were both taking a large, silent victory about. 

Chase giggles when he pulls out a few toys, running over to Jo to show them to her immediately. He was easily the quietest of the three kids, tending to hide in Jo’s shoulder whenever meeting someone new or clutching onto his older sibling’s legs whenever they were out in public places like the park. “Look Mommy! T-rex!” he exclaims, trying to open up the box that held the green dinosaur. 

“I know baby! But you gotta go put it back now if you want to look for eggs,” Jo reminds him, placing a kiss on the top of his head, nuzzling her face in his hair. She savored these moments with her youngest, knowing that Chase was only getting older every day. Her and Alex both agreed that they were done at three, so with that she seemed to imprint every detail of Chase’s childhood to memory, taking more videos and pictures. It had gotten a little bit overboard at some times, but Alex knew where she was coming from so he never complained. They had both chastised themselves for not filming more things with their first two, sticking more to pictures, so they were making up for it with their youngest. 

The two year old toddles to the table, climbing back up to the chair with the help of his sister, pulling out more toys and setting them down beside his candy. Once the baskets were free of anything except the paper grass at the bottom Alex tells them that they can begin their search. 

“Blaire, help your brother.” Alex calls out from his spot on the couch, pulling Jo closer to him while she films the hunt, thankful that their house had an open floor plan so she could record moments like these. 

The girl nods, grabbing Chase’s tiny hand and bringing him along on her search, picking him up to reach eggs that were out of his reach. All of his spotted eggs had been significantly easier to find than the other two’s, something Hudson had complained about at first until Alex shot him a look that immediately made him close his mouth. 

“Aww c’mon I can hear the money in that one!” they hear Hudson complain, trying to reach for the egg in his sister’s hand. 

“No, it’s mine. Your’s have money in them too, you know.” Blaire argues back, putting the blue plastic egg in her basket, shooing Chase off to the couch since they had found all of his eggs already. 

“Daddy look. Eggs!” the young boy dumps his basket onto the couch, thankfully not cracking any open in the process. 

“Woah, good job buddy,” Alex ruffles his hair, shooting him a proud grin and pulling him onto his lap so he was now rested between him and Jo. “We’ll open them once Bee and bubs find all of theirs okay?” he reassures, making the toddler nod his head.

“Aww c’mon, can’t we trade? Just once?” Hudson pouts from the kitchen, holding out one egg in exchange for the one his sister had just put away.

Blaire smirks, eyes flicking to her mom for a brief moment before focusing back on her brother’s. “Fine. But I get to pick which egg.” Did he not know that the heavier ones were all coins and the lighter ones had dollars? Well if he didn’t, that worked in her favor. 

“No, you can’t trade.” Jo butts in, seeing what angle her daughter was trying to play. On one hand, props to Blaire, because Jo thought it would be another year before she made the very obvious connection, but on the other, she had assigned the kids certain eggs for this reason exactly. 

“But mom—” the girl starts, jutting out her bottom lip in hopes to let her mom let it slide. 

“—The Easter Bunny said that you can’t trade. I don’t know about you, but I want him to come back next year, and I don’t think he will if you guys don’t behave.” Jo tells them, raising her eyebrows to show that she was serious. 

Little Chase looks up at her with wide eyes. “No! Bunny come back!” 

Alex quickly reassures him, pulling Chase closer to him and giving him a squeeze. “Don’t worry bud, he’ll come back. Bee and bubs are just being big buttheads right now so Mommy needs to knock some sense into them.” he knows that the boy didn’t understand half of what he said, but he feels a grin split across his face when the toddler erupts into giggles. 

“Buttheads!” he laughs, smiling so widely that Alex can’t even pretend to hold back chuckles of his own. 

“Yep, buttheads. But don’t say that word, it’s not very nice. Only mommies and daddies can say butthead.” he clarifies. The last thing he needed was Jo knocking him upside the head because their son was the only baby in daycare to say bathroom words. 

Minutes passed, the two older children looking for eggs around the house, climbing up on tables and chairs no matter how many times Alex and Jo told them that they weren’t hidden inside of the light fixtures. 

When both kids had found their eggs, they bounced back to the couch, dumping their eggs on the cushions and immediately cracking them open, cheering every time they got a dollar versus coins. Chase didn’t have money in his eggs, but rather jelly beans, something he liked much more than change. (two year olds had no need for money, and jelly beans were something much more fun than coins) 

In the end, the two of them had gotten one twenty, two tens, three five’s, and five one’s. Chase had a mountain of multi colored jelly beans gathering on the coffee table. A bit much? Yes. But they liked to splurge on holidays like these. They didn’t just become surgeons because they wanted to save people. (That was the main reason, but they both agreed that healthy paychecks did make a big decision in deciding their career path when they were younger. Now? Now it was all about saving lives, the money was just a nice bonus.) 

“I can get a new game!” Holden cheers, tossing his dollar bills up into the air as if it was ‘raining money’. In his eyes, he was rich now. Sixty bucks and change? Next step was becoming a millionaire.  

Jo scrunches her brows, looking at the boy confused. “You just got two new ones?” she clarifies. Were there seriously more games that he wanted to get?

“Yeah, but they just came out with a new Call of Duty,” the boy smirks, as if the answer was obvious.

Jo groans, showing her obvious dislike of the game. Normally, she was all for virtually blowing things up and killing fake people, but the game seemed just a bit too mature for a six-year old. She would just have Alex play with him in the beginning to make sure it wasn’t too bad she guessed. 

She claps her hands together a large smile painting her lips. She gets up from her seat and grabs three bunny ears headbands from a table in the entryway. “Put these on, and I’m gonna take a picture of you guys. After this we can get ready to go over to Auntie Mer’s for waffle Sundays, okay? If you guys are good, Daddy might make them into easter shapes” she grins as she hands each of the kids a pair of ears, only Blaire looking displeased at having to wear them. She gives her daughter a look, which makes her huff and reluctantly put on the shiny purple ears.

Alex ushers Chase off of his lap and into line with his siblings, Jo placing the blue ears on his head, matching his basket. She smiles wide, putting the kids side by side. 

She pulls out her phone, opening up the camera app and putting it on portrait mode. “Okay, on the count of three, say ‘Little Bunnies’!” she’s met immediately with groans, Hudson telling her ‘no’ the second he hears it. She’d been trying to get them to say it for years, but each time she got the same response. Insanity, Alex told her year after year with a crooked smirk, Is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. He always followed with, You’re basically insane for thinking that they’re gonna wanna be called bunnies if they didn’t last year. Plus, they always see it coming. It’s been happening for years now. 

“It was worth a shot,” Alex pipes in, pulling Jo into him, resting his head against hers, not even bothering to hide his smile at the scene in front of him. 

“Okay, fine. On the count of three ‘Happy Easter’. Sound good?” she confirms, earning nods from all four of the Karev’s. 

“One, two three!”

“Happy Easter!”

[bopbopstyles]

6. Heartbeat

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.8k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: welcome to the land of harry as a father aka the place of my death, i hope you enjoy your stay!

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N had told Harry she’d pick him up from the airport, but now that she was parking in the arrivals lot, she was wondering if that was the wrong choice. She’d managed to keep her news a secret since she had found out, not wanting to tell Harry over the phone when he was halfway across the world, but it had been horrible. They had never kept secrets from each other, at least, not ones like this, and it was eating away at Y/N from the inside. She didn’t even know how she was going to tell him yet. There were speeches she had practiced, about how it wasn’t necessary for him to be around if he wasn’t interested, that she would do it on her own—but she didn’t know if she wanted to do it on her own? None of them had felt right though, and all of them had ended with her in a pile of tears on her bedroom floor. Her hormones were out of control lately, emotions on a rollercoaster that she was permanently strapped in for.

But she had promised Harry, and despite her fears of telling him her news, she was truly excited to see him. It had been over a month and a half and she was desperate to see his face in person, to touch his body and confirm that yes, he was in fact, real. So she got a move on, not wanting to make Harry wait for her and risk being sighted in the airport.

She bounced up and down on her toes in the arrivals hall, keys jingling in her hand as she waited to see him. He’d probably have sunglasses and a hoodie on, a few suitcases rolling behind him that she’d have to somehow find space for in her trunk. The prospect of him turning the corner had her heart leaping in her chest.

And then there he was, a black hoodie and black sunglasses, two suitcases pulled behind him, curls peeking out from the edge of his hoodie. No one seemed to have caught on as to who he was, so Y/N went for it—she did what she had always wanted people to do when she arrived places. She ran through the arrivals hall, launching herself at Harry.

His eyes met hers when she was a few paces away and his face lit up, lips turning up in a smile, dropping both of his suitcases and opening his arms for her to fly into. Which she did, full throttle, tossing herself into his arms, chuckling at the way he staggered back dramatically. Their faces met immediately, lips on one another for an innocent kiss, desperation too much for the moment.

“Hi,” he said when they pulled away, eyes glinting under the florescents. “What a nice surprise.”

“Thought I’d give it a shot,” she replied, hopping down and taking one of his suitcases from his hand. “Have a good flight?”

Intertwining his fingers with hers, they walked through the arrivals hall. People may have recognized him, but maybe out of kindness they stayed away, perhaps noticing the two young lovers caught up in one another. “Long, but I slept most of the way. Wanted to be all rested up for my girl,” he said with a wink.

Y/N gave him a playful bump with her hip and led him to her car in the arrivals lot, listening to him jabber about the other passengers in first class and how terrible the food was. He was ready for a home cooked meal, he told her, one that he had prepared, and Y/N was fully prepared for that reality, having already gone to the grocery store earlier that day.

They managed to squeeze his suitcases into her trunk and she took the wheel, letting him put on some music as she pulled out of the spot and navigated traffic out of the airport. “Feeling any better?” His question was innocent enough, but for Y/N it set off alarm bells in her head. Had he found out somehow? And then the underlying question that had been keeping her up at night since she had found out: what would he say?

“Bit,” she told him. “What do you want to do now that you’re home?” She asked, quickly turning the topic of conversation back to him, but he didn’t notice. He just yammered on about wanting to go for some hikes, go to their favorite restaurants, spend time with her catching up on the movies he had missed. Jeff was mentioned, the idea of having some friends over, and the prospect of having Jeff anywhere near them right now was an anxiety attack that Y/N had managed to hold off and was perfectly ready not to have anytime soon.

The topic switched to music, which Y/N was perfectly happy with, and she played him the Phoebe Bridgers album that she’d recently discovered. He gave her his analysis, unpacking her favorite songs in the car. Then he shared his new favorite songs, a collection of indie songs she’d never heard and the Top 40s he was loving. They analyzed them together, unpacking the elements she had grown up attuned to—the synths and the perfection of a good bridge.

Before she knew it, she was swinging into the driveway of Harry’s house, punching the garage door opener clipped to her sun visor. As she turned off the car she heard Harry sigh next to her, a wide smile on his face.

“Home sweet home,” he said, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek. “Now let’s get these suitcases inside so I can get in the shower and get all these airplane germs off of me.”

Together they brought his cases inside, locking the garage door behind them and turning off the security system. Harry praised her plant maintenance skills as they crested the stairs, pulling the heavy bags into his bedroom. He flopped down on the bed, arms outstretched for her to crawl into, which she did gladly. Upon feeling his arms close around her, she let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, a weight lifted off of her shoulders from a month and a half of being separated.

“Missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close to his body. “So happy to be home with you.”

She lifted her head from his chest and swept her fingers across his jaw. “It wasn’t the same without you,” she told him. “No one being annoying while I try to watch TV.”

“Hey!” He said, tickling at her sides. “I’m perfectly wonderful. I just like lovin’ on you.”

Y/N snuggled into him and tried to let her fears from earlier subside. She’d tell him after they made dinner, let him settle in a bit. “Go shower, you smell like plane,” she said, mumbling against his hoodie. “Want me to start anything downstairs?”

He shook his head, rolling out from under her. “Would you put my wash in though?” His eyes batted at her, as if he was a kid begging for a candy bar.

She rolled her eyes, sliding off the bed. “Yes. All of it?”

He nodded. He’d gone through a lot of clothes, obviously. So she unzipped his suitcases, unpacking his clothes and separating out the colors, making two tall piles of all his things. She made a separate pile for all the bits that needed to be dry cleaned for him to drop off tomorrow while she was at work, and took the darks into the laundry room downstairs, starting a load. Upstairs, she heard the sound of the shower and Harry singing one of his songs like the menace he was. Her eyes fell to a bottle of wine on the counter that she had pulled out for him earlier, and she remembered that she, now, couldn’t drink.

Fuck being pregnant, she thought. All she wanted was a nice big glass of wine.

But she left it be and instead lit one of his favorite candles and turned on their playlist in the speakers, letting the sound fill the house. Before long, Harry was coming down in the stairs in sweats, hair wet and floppy on his head in the way she thought made him look so young and sweet, utterly cuddly and lovable.

“Cravin’ a good bowl of pasta and some veg, how ‘bout you?” He said, making his way into the kitchen. A glass from the cabinet was pulled down, sat next to the bottle of wine she had glanced at earlier, and a question over his shoulder. “Want some?”

“No,” she said calmly. “I’m okay. And yes to dinner, sounds lovely.”

His eyebrows furrowed at her answer, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled some veggies from the fridge and grabbed a cutting board, musing to her about how he wanted to get some new towels while he prepared their dinner. As he cooked, the thought of Harry as a dad crossed her mind. An evening like this, but a baby in the mix. It wouldn’t be so bad, she decided. He’d actually be probably amazing, actually. The only problem was that the perfect moments wouldn’t be all of the moments.

Their conversation flowed easily over dinner, Y/N’s belly full from the food and the laughter from Harry’s terrible jokes. She cleared away the plates and together they washed up, Harry bumping his hip into hers as he dried the dishes. With every moment that passed, the knot in her stomach tightened at the thought of having to tell him, of breaking his fantasy of what the next few years of his life might hold—of his entire life, really.

He refilled his glass of wine and together they made their way to the couch and when they sat, Harry pulled her into his arms, cuddling her close. This was the moment, she realized. It made her stumble, trying to find the right words to tell him this kind of earth-shattering news.

“Harry,” she said, voice cracking with nervousness. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Harry’s body tightened immediately—she could feel it happen against her. “What is it?”

She straightened up, pulling herself from his embrace. She needed space if she was going to do this, the ability to think properly, and being that close to Harry made it impossible. Did she just spit it out? No pretext, just tell him? This was the part she always stumbled on, how to phrase it. But, she thought, there probably wasn’t a handbook on how to tell your boyfriend this kind of news. Especially when it’s not planned.

“Love?” He prompted, worry written all over his face.

“I—fuck,” she said, stomach seizing in worry, “I’m…” She couldn’t get the words out, they were sticking in her throat and she couldn’t find them and she wanted to tell him but she was so fucking scared of what he would say.

Harry reached out, taking her hands in his, the hard calluses of his fingers brushing over her skin. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Whatever it is.”

Her eyes met his, and she just decided to go for it. No dancing around. “I’m pregnant.”

Harry’s eyes widened, whole body stilling. In his grip, her palms began to sweat, the nerves running through her body like a train. They just stared at each other, the news sinking in for Harry probably in the same way as it did for Y/N—the utter panic seizing him. The questions swirling around faster than he could process.

But he didn’t say anything. Just stared at her. And she didn’t know what the fuck that meant. “I know it’s a lot,” she said, the words rushing out, trying to fill the silence. “But we have options.” She used the same words as her doctor, she realized. “I’m still early enough to terminate if we wanted to, or we can do adoption, although I doubt Jeff would go for it, and I’m also happy to do it on my own.” The last one was the one that she’d given the most thought to, and she was actually okay with the idea. Having a child on her own, being a single mom. Wasn’t in the books, but it wasn’t a bad outcome. “I know you’re busy and just starting your solo career so a kid isn’t really great timing, so I can do it and you can like be in their life, I guess? Whatever you want—I’m not, I’m not expecting anything, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” The words came out like a freight train, barreling through the silence between them.

But Harry’s answer blew her straight out of the water. “You—on your own? Fuck no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not doing that.”

“You—what?”

“Y/N,” he told her, squeezing her hands. “I’m not letting you raise my kid on your own.”

The words almost made it worse because she realized once he said them, she almost wanted him to say sure, raise it on your own. Because it would be easier. “Harry,” she said softly, slowly, trying to figure out how to say this, “I’m not sure if…I want you to do it with me.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” His words cut like ice, anger clear in his voice, hands wrenching from hers as if she was on fire.

“I don’t know if I want to raise a kid with you,” she said, trying to make it as plain as possible.

The hurt in his eyes burned her to her core. All the joy in his face gone, as if a cold wind had come by and slapped him in the face. And it pained her, but it was also the best thing for her. To be able to do it on her own terms, her own pace, her own place even. “Why?” When he spoke, it was broken, a whispered question.

She bit her lip, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. “My dad’s a musician. I know what it’s like to be a musician’s daughter and it fucking sucks most of the time. I saw it destroy my parents’ marriage, saw it destroy the marriages of my dad’s friends. I don’t want to put my kid through that,” she told him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I want to be a good mom, and I don’t know think that means having you in the picture.”

Harry launched himself off of the couch, standing up with his back to her. All of a sudden, Y/N saw his shoulders shaking, the raspy sound of his cries, and she realized he was crying. She’d made him cry. Made him sob, from the sound of it. And it broke her into a million pieces, the remaining bit of her heart that she hadn’t ripped out the moment she had to tell him that she didn’t want him around for their child.

“Harry—“

“No,” he said, whirling around so she finally saw his face, the tears streaming down his face like waterfalls, red and puffy eyes. “You do not get to sit there and try and comfort me right now. You just told me that you don’t want me to be in my kid’s life!” His voice had reached a scream, the sound echoing in the room.

Y/N tucked her knees up to her chest. She knew it was going to be hard, but she didn’t expect it to be like this. Did she expected him to accept it, maybe? Be relieved? But from looking at Harry now, she didn’t know how she could’ve ever thought that. He looked devastated, utterly destroyed, as if the rug had been ripped out from under him. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft. “I just…”

“Y/N,” he said, struggling to stay measured, “obviously this is ultimately your decision. But I am the father, and more than anything, I’m your boyfriend. This isn’t like some one night stand—I’m—“ His voice broke, tumbling over the words. “I’m in love with you. And you’re having our baby. And I feel like you’ve completely shut me out from making any kind of decision. Like you just decided without even considering what I might want.”

“I prioritized myself,” she said, voice stern. “Because I have to carry this child for nine months. I will be there, every single day, for the rest of my life, raising this child. It will be me, Harry, not you, who will be the parent at every school function, helping with homework and dealing with nightmares. Because you will be gone half of the time. So I’m sorry if I had to put myself first, if that feels like I shut you out. But trust me when I say that I did consider what you might want.”

“But you decided that what you want is more important.”

“Not what I want,” Y/N corrected, “but what I need. What my child needs.”

“Our,” he said, cutting her off. “Our child. ’S not your child, it’s our child.”

His words stopped her dead in her tracks. He was so insistent, staring her straight in the eyes, not moving from where he stood. “Yes. Our child.”

With an exhale, Harry ran a hand through his hair, his rings glinting under the soft lights of the living room. “I understand your fears. I want you to know that. I’m fucking terrified too,” he said, a soft chuckle falling through the tension, “but I don’t plan on fucking off around the world and leaving you here to care for our child. Y/N, I want a family more than anything in the whole entire world. More than my career, more than everything.”

They’d never really had this conversation, she thought when he said those words. She knew he wanted kids, but she never knew where they ranked in his ambitions. How high up they actually were. She had assumed, she realized, that he would act the way so many others did. But Harry, he was different.

“I want to raise our child with you,” he continued, voice straining as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. He brushed at them with the back of his hand and Y/N wished she could dry them for him. “I want to do this with you. If you don’t want me to, then I’ll respect that. But I’m not going to let you—our child—go without a fight.”

Y/N exhaled, his words hitting her like a ton of bricks. He wanted their child. He wanted to be a father, to raise a kid with her. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, no pause, intention clear in his tone. “Never been so sure in my life.”

“This isn’t something you get to go back on,” she reminded him. “Like, this is the rest of your life you’re committing to.”

“I know.” His voice was devoid of any doubt, just sureness, and it managed to chip away at the hard edge she’d been latching onto in an attempt to make the hardest choice of her life—pushing him away.

She looked down at her hands, the chipped blue nail polish there from Friday night when she’d been having a whole lot of deep thoughts about this conversation and the future. “Harry,” she said softly, “I’m terrified of this.”

A hand drifted through her hair and she looked up, seeing Harry crouching in front of her, eyes level with hers. “I know, baby.”

“I don’t know how to be a mom. I’m not ready.”

“Me either,” he said with a sad smile. “But we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

Slowly, she nodded and Harry exhaled, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, tears ripping through her again. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms without a second thought and Y/N folded into him, shame and regret leaking from her like a faucet. “I forgive you,” he said with a kiss to her temple. “Raising a kid with me is definitely not going to be the easiest thing in the world. That’s not your fault, and you wanting to do what’s best for our kid, even if it means me not being around? That shows how fierce of a mom you’re going to be.”

His words stirred something in her. Mom. She was going to be a mother. “You think so?”

“Going to be fucking incredible, baby.”

“You’re going to be a dad,” she whispered, looking into his green eyes, which were still red and puffy, but the sad look was replaced with one full of excitement, joy. “Gonna be a good one, too, I think.”

He smiled at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “With you at my side, don’t know how I couldn’t be.”

Harry sat down in the pink plastic chairs, rubbing his hands on the his pants, and Y/N dropped into the seat next to him. Seeing Harry Styles in an OB/GYN clinic was quite possibly one of Y/N’s favorite things she’s ever seen. He was peeking at the women’s magazines, reading the articles about pregnancy intensely in a way that made her restrain from giggling. He even made conversation with the receptionist, asking her about her day and making sure that the appointment would be completely safe for the baby, which of course, it was.

When she made the appointment she asked to be scheduled at a time when no one else would be in the waiting room, and they managed to succeed, the seats completely empty when Harry and her walked in the door. They hadn’t decided how—or when—they wanted to announce her pregnancy or if they even wanted to. They were both deeply private people and the idea of blasting their personal lives on social media felt horrible, so they wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

They also hadn’t told Jeff and the rest of Harry’s team yet. Harry told her he wanted to wait until he heard his child’s heartbeat, felt the reality of having a child, before he launched into that conversation with his management because it wouldn’t be an easy one. So the last thing they wanted was Jeff finding out Y/N was pregnant through paparazzi photos of them going into an OB/GYN clinic.

“Have you ever been to an OB/GYN clinic?” She asked him, propping her elbow up on the arm rest between them.

He snorted. “Why would I?”

“Dunno,” she said with a shrug. “Thought that might explain why you seem not to be overwhelmed with the amount of modeled vaginas and uteri around you.”

“That what those are?” He asked in mock surprise, pointing at the one next to them. “Well fuck. Just thought it was art.”

Y/N had to hide her face in his shoulder to keep from laughing too loudly, and when she poked her head up, Harry was looking down at her with a grin. “Glad you’re here,” she said, chin resting on his shoulder.

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Me too, baby.”

“Gonna hear your other baby,” she said with a chuckle and Harry just looked like he had won the lottery. It was this reason that Y/N was becoming more and more okay with the idea of raising a child with Harry with every passing day. He was just so happy all the time—there was a new bounce in his step and he was utterly obsessed with picking out baby clothes. The morning after she had told him, she went downstairs to find him sat at the dining table, browsing some websites for baby clothes, selecting an entire wardrobe for his child to outfit them for their entire first year. Y/N had to physically hide his wallet and remove his computer from his vicinity to get him to stop.

Harry pulled her into his body and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You know I’ve always dreamed of doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Hearing my baby’s heartbeat.”

She kissed the exposed skin at the top his shirt at the base of his neck, hoping it would encapsulate the feeling of love radiating through her body because she truly didn’t have the words.

“Y/N?” She looked up and her OB/GYN, Dr. Crawford, stood in the doorway. Harry stood up immediately, the excitement flowing through him obvious to anyone with eyes. He held her hand as they walked down the fall to the exam room, not minding that her hand got a sweaty from the nerves. There was something mildly uncomfortable about Harry being with her at an office where she usually went to get her birth control and yearly exams, but Harry didn’t seem to mind at all. He somehow fit in, made her feel at ease, lessened the nerves with his silly jokes and tickles to her sides when she looked too intense.

“So,” Dr. Crawford said once they were settled in the exam room, Y/N on the table and Harry sat in the chair closest to her, knee bouncing up and down so fast Y/N had to lean over and stop him. “I got your results from Dr. Terrell—seems like you’re eight weeks along, now more like nine. I estimate conception was in mid September by that approximation.”

Y/N looked over at Harry, his eyes crinkling up at the edges, his thoughts probably the same as hers. “When you were home,” she said, the memory of their reunion strong. Of course it was then—she was so caught up in Harry being home she wouldn’t been surprised if she had missed a day of her pill altogether.

“And are you the father?” Dr. Crawford asked, pointing her ballpoint at Harry, a questionnaire attached to her clipboard.

“Yes,” they both said at the same time, Dr. Crawford giving them a warm smile.

He reached out a hand to Dr. Crawford as if she probably didn’t know who he was. Although maybe it was better if her OB/GYN didn’t know that the father was an international popstar? Y/N couldn’t really decide. “Harry,” he introduced himself, leaving his last name conveniently out.

“Pleasure,” she answered, shaking his hand. “Now, I’m assuming we want to meet your baby today?” Harry reached his hand over to hers, fingers interlinking as they both nodded. “Wonderful. Y/N can you lift your shirt for me?”

She rucked up the edge of her oversized t-shirt and Dr. Crawford brought over the same device Y/N had seen on TV—a transducer, her OB/GYN informed her as she lathered a cold gel over a section of her stomach. “Okay,” she said, pressing some buttons on the machine, “give me a second to find your little one.”

Harry’s eyes drifted to the screen, squeezing her hand as they both listened closely to try and hear their child’s heartbeat. The screen was grainy, lines and pockets that Y/N tried her best not to trick into believing was her child. Dr. Crawford moved the transducer around on Y/N’s lower abdomen, searching for the right spot. Panic seized Y/N the longer they waited for the heartbeat, questions swirling in her head—was there something wrong? Was the test wrong—was she not pregnant after all? Or worse—was there something wrong with their child?

And then, a solid thudding sound echoed in Y/N’s ears, and her vision immediately swam as tears welled in her eyes. It was her child, her baby, the little being she was carrying inside of her. She looked over to Harry, and he was full-on crying, wiping his nose on the hem of his sweatshirt as he stared at Y/N in awe.

Dr. Crawford suddenly sighed, and Y/N tore her eyes away from Harry to look up at the screen, where she could see, faintly, the outline of a fetus. “That’s our little Peanut,” Harry whispered to her, bowing his head so it rested on her shoulder, them both looking at the screen. “They’re real,” he said, his tears wetting her shirt and Y/N was crying as hard as him now, the sight of her child up on the screen jerking at every fiber of her body.

Peanut, Y/N thought to herself. Harry already had a nickname for their child.

“That’s them?” She asked Dr. Crawford, barely able to see the screen because of the tears.

“Yes,” her doctor replied, “that’s your baby."

Y/N turned and tugged at Harry’s face, suddenly feeling the overwhelming desire to kiss him, needing him to anchor her to the world and remind her that yes, this was real. His hands cupped her chin delicately, lips meeting. Their foreheads rested against one another’s as their tears flowed, the fact that they were actually going to be parents settling in.

“Can I—can I take a video?” Harry asked Dr. Crawford, looking back up at the doctor, pulling Y/N from their personal moment. “Want to be able to let my mum hear the heartbeat.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Let me turn up the sound.” She pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the thud of her child’s heartbeat was all Y/N could hear. She closed her eyes to the sound, letting it take root in her brain. Her hands drifted to where the transducer rested on her belly, careful not to get too close as she cupped her stomach. Perhaps it had been the anxiety over telling Harry, but she hadn’t really touched where her child was growing yet. The concept hadn’t really settled in—in fact, she had tried to avoid thinking about it because it stressed her out so much.

But now it was a reflex.

“I’ll take some pictures for you to keep,” Dr. Crawford said, pressing a button and shifting the transducer slightly. “I’ll go grab these for you,” she told them, “and then we can talk about what the next few weeks will hold.” She pulled the transducer off of Y/N’s belly, wiping off the gel, and then stepped out of the room giving the two emotional parents a moment alone.

“How is it,” Harry said, voice raw with emotion, “that I’m already so in love with them?”

Y/N pushed a strand of his hair off his forehead and wiped a tear from his cheek. “I know what you mean,” she whispered. “It’s so visceral. I can’t even explain it.”

He bent his head to hers, sighing as he shut his eyes against her skin. “I love you. I know this wasn’t the plan, but I’m so happy I don’t even know what to say.”

Her fingers swept at his neck, massaging his skin, knowing he loved the feeling. “I love you too, H.”

That night, they laid in Y/N’s bed, Harry having decided to stay for a few days while they processed everything, and stared at the photos Dr. Crawford had given them in the office. Y/N was curled up on Harry’s chest and he thought that he had truly never experienced a more perfect moment. The mother of his child curled into him, head on his chest, while they looked at the photo of their unborn child.

“Due in June,” Harry whispered. “They’re going to be a summer baby.”

“Thank god,” Y/N mumbled into his skin. “Between me in January and you in February, I truly don’t think I could handle one more Winter birthday.”

Harry laughed, her head bouncing on his vibrating chest. She managed to make every moment a little bit brighter, and feature he loved so deeply about her. Neither of them could be serious for too long, and it kept them laughing all the time, much to the annoyance of their friends when no one got their inside jokes.

He gazed at the photo of his child, his brain barely able to wrap around the fact. He had known for days, and yet he still woke up in the morning and forgot. When he saw Y/N he always remembered, but there was this second in the morning where he forgot and he hated it. He was going to be a father and he wanted to soak up every single second, revel in the reality that he was starting a family. And maybe it didn’t happen the way he would’ve planned it, but that didn’t make it any less special or exciting. Plus, his child with Y/N was going to have insanely good music taste.

The thought that he couldn’t get out of the back of his head was the fact that he was supposed to be going on tour in March. A world tour longer than the one he had just finished, from March to July with basically no breaks. As of right now, he wouldn’t even be in town for the birth of his child. And he wasn’t going to have ten days off to visit Y/N or see his mum. When he looked at his schedule earlier in the day, he had only found one substantial break—ten days in May, nestled between Japan and Argentina. That wasn’t how he wanted to do fatherhood—he wanted to see Y/N for every single second of the day, to see her belly grow and her body change, to talk to his child every night before bed as he had done last night, Y/N giggling above him. He wanted to be present, mentally and physically. He wanted to be there for the birth, at the utter bare minimum, and with the schedule he was going to miss that too.

He also knew that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to put on the kinds of shows he wanted, do the press he usually did, with a pregnant Y/N back in LA waiting for him. It wasn’t the world tour he wanted to put on, the kind of show he wanted to bring to the fans. Harry was a go big or go home kind of guy, and half-assed shows wasn’t going to cut it.

But he had no idea how to balance the two. How did he be the kind of father he wanted to be, but also the kind of musician he loved being? As much as he wanted to ask Y/N, he was scared she’d be frustrated, pointing out that this was exactly what she was afraid of. He needed a game plan before he could really talk to her about it, but that involved talking to Jeff, and he wanted to do that with Y/N there. He wanted Jeff to know that they were a family, and decisions that affected Harry were decisions that affected Y/N and their child.

So who did he talk to, then?

He didn’t have all that many friends with kids. And those he did have, most of them weren’t musicians—they were like James, people who worked in the same city as their family but traveled for work some. Not people whose entire careers were based around being gone for extended periods of time.

But, he realized, he had Adam. Adam, with multiple kids. Adam, a musician who toured—and had toured with Harry. He knew how Harry was, what kind of shows he needed to deliver, the demands of his particular brand of fame.

He glanced down at Y/N and saw her eyes were shut, arm still resting over his abdomen. Soft sighs fluttered from her lips, a sweet smile on her face—even in sleep, she was beautiful. Even more so, somehow. Harry leaned over and flicked off his light, resting the photo of his little Peanut on the bedside table so when they woke up in the morning, it was the first thing they’d see.

In the morning, Harry made Y/N pancakes and gave her a kiss goodbye before grabbing his phone, desperate to talk to someone about the thoughts raging through his head. He could barely sleep last night, the questions and scenarios like a bad movie rolling through his brain—what if he missed the birth? What if he missed the first kick? What if Y/N hated him for it, and made good on her original request—for him to not be in the picture? What if he missed out on the opportunity to be a dad?

That thought had him scrambling for Adam’s contact in his phone.

“Hello?”

Adam’s voice rang through the line and it eased an anxiety Harry had had weighing on him for days. “Hey man,” he said, settling into Y/N’s couch where was set up. “Need your advice on something.”

He heard a rustling, probably Adam sitting down and settling in for what he knew would be a long conversation, as were anytime Harry asked Adam for advice. “What’s up?”

“I need you to keep this a secret. Like, tell no one about this—literally not a soul knows except for you, me, and Y/N. Not even Jeff or my mum.”

Adam exhaled, probably understanding the gravity of it if Harry hadn’t even told Anne. He told Anne everything, which he had been told on multiple occasions was not the type of behavior common in 20-somethings men, but it was how he was. Maybe it was a product of leaving home early, or of the fact that his mum was truly his best friend. “You’re kind of freaking me out, mate.”

“You swear?”

“Of course—swear I won’t tell anyone. Not even Emi.”

Harry breathed in, then out, and then he just spilled it: “Y/N’s pregnant.”

Adam was quiet for a beat, and then, “Wow. How do you feel?”

That was the one question Harry could answer confidently. “I’m so happy that Y/N keeps telling me too stop smiling or she’s going to get me checked out,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you feel like that with Silver and Spike?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “like my heart was going to pop out of my chest.”

That was exactly the feeling Harry had right now and hadn’t seemed to dissipate. “So, I’m happy right? So happy. But I’m also losing it—I told you about Y/N’s rule, the stuff we’ve worked through, all that. And now we’re going to have a baby. When she told me, she said she didn’t know if she wanted to raise a kid with me—because of my job.”

“Fuck.”

“I talked her back from there,” Harry explained, standing and beginning to pace, bare feet hitting her wood floors. “I told her how I wanted to be present, how it was more important than my career. But, now I actually have to make the decision, because we’ve got a tour scheduled until July and the baby’s due in June. And,” he added, “if I had it my way I would be here the whole time. I want to be here for all of her pregnancy—it’s my first kid, Adam.” His voice broke as he said those words, the reality of what this could become hitting him. “I need to experience that. And I have no idea what to do.”

Adam didn’t say anything, but Harry knew he was still there because he heard Silver talking in the background, Emi’s voice telling her to give Papa some space, which pulled on Harry’s heart. He wanted that so badly—to have someone call him Papa and crawl up his legs, demanding attention. “You haven’t talked to Jeff, yet, right?” Adam finally asked.

“No.”

“Good. Wait until you’ve got a plan of attack—you want to be really clear about what you want to do.”

Harry nodded, leaning onto Y/N kitchen island, eyes studying a crack in the countertop he hadn’t noticed before. “That was my thought too. ’S why I called you.”

“Well,” Adam said, “I’m not going to pretend like my situation was anything like yours. Completely different can of worms. But, I’ll say this—I understanding your desire to be there. I missed bits of it with Silver but got it all with Spike and it made me wish I had been there for all of it.”

“I don’t want cancel tour though,” Harry said, words heavy in his heart. The idea had him heartbroken—all of the disappointed fans? He couldn’t do that.

“No you don’t,” Adam agreed. “But your baby is due in June, so you’re going to have to cancel the US leg at the very least. You’re going to have to tour, at least for part of it. You’ll miss stuff, but that’s the way it works. There’s no way you could be around Y/N all day anyways—she’s got work, you’ve got work, you would miss things either way. But it’s different to be completely gone and it’s going to be brutal for both of you.”

“You’re really not helping,” Harry muttered, the panic resurfacing in his chest.

“Sorry,” Adam said, “I’m trying. Would Y/N go on tour with you?”

The thought flickered through Harry’s brain. It was an idea. One Y/N would probably put up a fuss about, not wanting to leave her office and friends. “Maybe for bits of it. But she works full-time and bloody loves her job. It would be hard for her to do fully remote, I think, especially halfway around the world.” “So that’s an option. As for cancelling the US dates, you can just reschedule them shows for later—maybe beginning of 2019.”

“I’m supposed to be recording then.” He’s got another album to write, after all. An album that had a strong feeling was going to be very different than anything he had done before.

“I—fuck. I mean, maybe you’ll just have to fully cut them, just do refunds.”

Harry sighed. It was, perhaps, the best he could do. Not nearly enough, but it might be all he could do. “Fans will never forgive me.”

“You’ll have to explain,” Adam reminded him. “If they know why, I don’t think they’ll hate you too much.”

He hoped not. He loved his fans and in a normal situation he would never cancel shows like this. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. “I’ll have to talk to Jeff. He’s going to kill me.”

“Hey,” Adam said, voice softening, “he won’t. He’s going to be frustrated, sure, but not with you—more with all the people he’s going to have to call. But that’s his job, not yours. Your job is to be a great boyfriend, a great musician, and now, a great dad. Which you’re going to be. Promise.”

“Thank you,” he said, words catching in his throat. He didn’t even know he needed to hear someone other than Y/N say it until Adam did. “Needed to hear that.”

“Happy to remind you anytime,” Adam told him and Harry thought about how lucky he was to have friends like him around. “Now, I’ve got to go take Silver to a sleepover—call me if you want to talk more, though, okay? I’m around.”

“Thanks mate,” he said. “Say hi to everyone for me.”

“Harry says hi!” Adam called to his family, and Harry smiled at the yells of “HI HARRY!” that echoed through the phone. “They say hi. Talk later, man.”

“Bye,” Harry said, ending the call. He stood up straight, his hip resting against the island, and considered what Adam had said. She’d take some convincing, but Y/N might agree to go on tour with him. He didn’t know how good it would be for her to travel that much—he needed to get that checked out—but it was worth a shot. As far as canceling the shows, it would be painful, but he firmly believed it would be worth it.

He hadn’t lied to Y/N when he told her that her, their child, their life, was more important than anything. It was, which was why experiencing pregnancy with her was at the top of his list. He would do anything to be with her for it, whether he had to move tour dates or mountains—anything for her.

Motown was playing when she opened the door, the smell of something spicy hitting her nostrils immediately. Harry stood in her kitchen in her favorite apron, a towel over one shoulder and a glass of wine on the counter in front of him. He was cooking for her, dinner ready and waiting when she arrived home from work. The thought hit her like a ton of bricks: this was the life she had always dreamed of with her significant other. The simple moments of them making her dinner, of them taking care of her when she needed it most. And after today, she really needed it.

“Hi, baby,” Harry said, turning down the music so she could hear him. He wandered over to her as she slipped off her coat and shoes, arms winding around her. “How was your day?”

“Shitty,” she replied, pulling away from him. “Need to go change out of my clothes.”

“Sounds good. Dinner will be ready in ten.”

Y/N pulled off her clothes and replaced them with a soft sweatshirt and leggings, before making her way into the bathroom to take off her makeup. Eyes exhausted from staring at her computer all day, the words on the screen running together by the time she left her desk, she took out her contacts and slipped on her glasses instead, a sigh of relief leaving her body. Now she felt like she was home.

In the kitchen, Harry was plating up their food, a glass of water in a wine glass waiting for her that made her miss alcohol so much—not even in a way where she needed it, the concept of a nice glass of red wine just sounded utterly delectable.

“Made you salmon and a bunch of veg,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to her temple as she passed him in the narrow kitchen. “Was readin’ that book you have ‘bout pregnancy and saw how important it is to eat good.”

The thought of Harry sitting on her couch reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting brought a smile to her cheeks that she desperately needed after the day she had had. He had become a bit obsessed with fatherhood in the few days since she had told him the news, and each time he mentioned the new research he had been doing, it reminded her that the fears revolving through her brain all day might very well be misplaced. Maybe Harry would be able to be the kind of present father that she needed and Harry wanted to be.

“So,” he said, settling into the seat caddy-corner to her, their plates in front of them. “Tell me about this shitty day of yours.”

She took a bite of the salmon, giving him a thumbs up when he asked how it was. “Started with me having to run out of a meeting to vomit,” she began.

“Oh no,” he said, knowing full well how much she hated vomiting and how tired of it she was.

“Yep.” She cut into one of the roasted sweet potatoes, the question of how Harry learned to cook so well crossing her mind as she took a bite. “And then I got the call that the big deal I’ve been working on fell through—the company decided to go with another agency. I haven’t even presented our final plan yet—didn’t even have a chance to prove myself. I don’t even know how they made the choice, but to have done it without even seeing the final product sucks.”

Harry reached over and slipped his hand into her, giving it a tight squeeze. “’S not a reflection of your work, love.”

“I know,” she reassured him, “but it’s hard not to think it anyways.” She took a sip of her ice water, eyes falling to his red wine with longing. “But then one of the interns mentioned some trend on Instagram that I knew nothing about and it made me feel old. And then Jamie asked me if I wanted to get drinks after work and I had to make up an excuse and he looked so sad. So it was a shit day.”

The look on her face was so heartbreaking that Harry just wanted to squeeze it right out of her. So he took his hand and pressed his thumbs into her cheeks, squeezing them together, trying to make her giggle like she usually did when he did this. “You’re really, really fuckin’ cute, Y/N,” he told her and to his delight a blush fell over the tops of her cheeks. “And you’re also wicked brilliant. Anyone who thinks otherwise, or makes you feel like you’re not, is an idiot. And you are most definitely not old.” He turned his chair and pulled himself towards her so his knees were touching the side of her chair, allowing him to press a delicate kiss to the fabric covering her shoulder. “You hear me?”

She nodded, picking up her fork to resume her dinner. “Thank you, H.”

“For what?” He pushed a strand of her hair behind her shoulder so it didn’t get in her food when she took a bite.

“Picking me up,” she said, eyes meeting his. “You’re good at it.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, smiling when her face scrunches up at the action. “Easy to do when you’re so bloody wonderful.” With that, he scoots back to his place at the table, letting her eat in peace. He filled the conversation with jabber about his work for the day, his calls with his team and the interview he did for a radio station. When Y/N was like this, she wasn’t all that talkative, preferring instead to mull about in her head and process all of her thoughts, but when she was ready to chat she came out in full force.

That happened after dinner, when they were tucked up in her bed, both reading. Harry was working his way through a non-fiction book about World War II, doing Dunkirk having piqued an interest for him, and Y/N was reading a copy of the New Yorker that her dad had given her when she saw him last. Suddenly, she nudged his neck with her head, demanding his attention.

When he looked down at her, she was all doe-eyed and warm, her mind having finally gotten itself out of the spiral it was in. “Sorry I was in a mood,” she said. “Hormones are fucking with me.”

“S’okay, button,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. “Sorry I got you pregnant and got you hormonal in the first place.” He meant it as a joke, but Y/N stilled against him and he immediately knew that wasn’t how she heard it. “Joking, Y/N,” he told her. “I love that we’re havin’ a baby.”

She set down her magazine and propped herself up on her elbows, Harry dropping his book too so he could focus fully on her. “Are you sure, H? If you’re being serious, I understand, you know. You don’t have to pretend. I don’t want you to pretend just for my sake.”

Harry exhaled. “How many times do I have to tell you, baby? I’m so excited to be havin’ a family with you I can’t even contain it. Nearly blurted it out to Jeff today in excitement before I remembered what we agreed on.”

“You might need to tell me a couple more times,” she told him honestly. “For some reason, my brain is having trouble wrapping its head around the idea that you want to be doing this.”

“C’mere,” he said, opening his arms so she could fold into his body. “I’ll remind you whenever you need, okay? But please, Y/N, please believe the best in me. I love you, but sometimes the doubt you have in me breaks me.”

Her fingers crawl up his biceps, fingers trailing around the outline of the heart tattooed there. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her chin into his chest, a soft smile bringing him to his knees for her. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and I’d like you to keep an open mind.”

Her fingers stopped tracing his tattoos and her eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“I talked to Adam today,” he began. “I told him we were havin’ a baby.” Before she could berate him for breaking their promise, he forged on, because that wasn’t the part he wanted to talk to her about—he already knew she was frustrated with him for it. “I needed his advice on how to approach the 2018 tour. Whenever we talk to Jeff I need to have a plan before I walk into that room, and Adam’s my only friend who has kids and knows intimately how I tour.”

She considers his words before opening her mouth. “Was it helpful?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “He had a couple suggestions, some which aren’t possible, some which are. The main one was that you join me for part of the tour. I know that you have work and you probably can’t do it, but I already have to cancel the entire US leg because it’s in June when little Peanut is due, so I probably can’t ask for other breaks. And I have no fucking idea what to do, Y/N.”

Y/N scrambled up, swinging a leg over Harry’s waist to brush the tears that were spilling from his eyes. His heart was beating so fast, the fear of what she would say eating him alive. “Hey, hey, I’m here, okay? We’re going to figure this out.” She was so calm, collected, the opposite from what he expected. “Can you breathe for me? I want to have this conversation, but I can’t do it if you’re crying, H.”

Harry gulped, trying to get his breathing under control. “I—yes. Okay.” He listened to her breathing, the sound of her heartbeat, letting it anchor him.

“Better?” He nodded, and she smoothed his hair back before speaking again. “So. Me going on tour with you?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

She sighed, her fingers fiddling at the collar of his shirt. Without even thinking about it, Harry found himself curving his hands around her stomach, right where his baby was, the action having become an impulse in the recent days. “H, I can’t travel when I’m over 34 weeks pregnant.”

Harry let out a sharp exhale, the frustration evident in the way he hung his head. “Fuck.”

“Maybe…Maybe I could take off a few weeks at the beginning? I’ve got the vacation time saved up.”

His head perked up at her proposal, eyes wide. “Really?”

She nodded, hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, her fingers massaging into the base of his skull. “I want to make this work and if that means taking some time off so we can be together, that’s what it means.”

The prospect of her on tour with him, her and their baby on tour with him made his heart flutter, the images of her, wildly pregnant, hanging out in his dressing room before shows, watching from the wings while he performed. Her hands carding through his hair while he took naps backstage, them shagging in his hotel rooms, cuddling on airplanes and tour buses. “I like that idea,” he said, bending down so he could press a soft kiss to her abdomen. “Quite a lot.”

“I kind of like it too,” She murmured, giggling when Harry left a lingering smooch to her belly button. “I’m sorry, baby about having to cancel tour. Know that isn’t what you want to do.”

“Rather be here than anywhere else,” he said, nudging at her cheek with his nose. “Y/N, I want you to know, I would never have picked to tour right now if I would have known.”

“I know,” she murmured against his skin. They were cuddled up in each other, her arms around his neck, his face buried in her shoulder. Harry didn’t think the desire to be close to her like this would ever leave him. He just desperately loved being as close as possible, holding her, petting her skin, feeling her breath on his skin. “I know I put a lot of pressure on you and that’s not necessarily fair of me, but—“ “Hush,” Harry said, lifting his head so he could look at her. “You’re right to, okay? I want to be the best dad I can be, but you know how easily I get caught up in my work. Don’t want to do that. Just as I need to remind you how much I care, sometimes you may have to remind me that you’re my world. Can you keep doing that?”

She nodded, a soft press of her lips to his eyebrow that had him gripping her hips, the tenderness like fireworks in his brain. “What do you think Anne is going to say when we tell her?”

Harry chuckled, the panic in her voice evident. “She’s going to be so happy I bet she’ll cry. Been wantin’ a grandchild for ages now. What about your mom?”

“She’s going to have a conniption fit,” Y/N said with a laugh of her own. “But then she’s going to cry too.”

“No wonder we’re such softies,” Harry said, tickling at Y/N’s sides, the sound of her giggles in his ears making him smile.

She leaned back, squirming away from his hands. “Speak for yourself. I’m serious, not a softie.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry lifted his hands, smushing her cheeks together and peppering kisses all over her. “Say that again, baby. Dare you.”

“Fine!” She pulled his lips into a kiss that left him breathless, his desire for her never waving. “Love you, my big softie.”

“Love you too. Now let’s go to bed, gotta make sure Peanut gets his beauty sleep.”

Y/N rolled off of him and let him pull the duvet cover over their bodies, cuddling up next to him. “What about me?”

“Don’t need it,” he said with a swift kiss to her forehead. “Beautiful no matter how much sleep you get.”

He feel asleep with Y/N’s head on his chest, arm slung over his torso, and Harry wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. The girl he loved, a baby on the way, and a career he adored. He ran his fingers up her spine, watching the smile flutter onto her lips in her sleep, and let his eyes wander to her belly. You couldn’t tell that she was pregnant yet, but to Harry, knowing that she was carrying their child inside of her, she had never been more beautiful to him.

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 22ND @ NOON CST