#it's been a labour of love over the last few weeks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shhhsecretsideblog · 7 months ago

Text

No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

#birth kink #pregnant kink #clothing birth #panty birth #birth denial #public birth #forest birth #giving birth #birth fic #birth fiction #fpreg birth #tw: blood #tw: death #my writing

464 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.

I have a request for the 5k event so here it is

The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.

Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!

—Here Now

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company.

He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.

One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth.

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit.

You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest.

“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you.

This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.

The thought terrified you.

You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic.

But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—

The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.

Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important.

“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”

He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt.

“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.”

“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”

He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body.

“Had a feeling,” is all he says.

You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull.

“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.”

“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing.

He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering.

By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him.

Well, girls now.

He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.

John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it.

There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him.

1K notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 8 months ago

Text

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,�� You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

565 notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 7 months ago

Text

Wonderful Tonight

Marcus Pike x Pregnant Female Reader - 18+

Summary: Marcus Pike takes care of his very pregnant wife, shaving her legs (and more) and then treats her like the delicious meal she is. CW: pregnancy, shaving, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (you can't get pregnant while pregnant, but all of you better be wrappin it up!), praise, pet names (baby, honey, etc.), multiple orgasms. This is fluffy romantic smut. AN: I write one piece with feelings and suddenly I'm Mrs Romance over here! I gotta say that I'm falling deeper and deeper for Mr Marcus Pike, JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!! I feel like their wedding song would have been Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, hence the title. Thank you @syd-djarin for reading this over for me. @survivingandenduring, I'll be waiting for my edits lol. Dividers by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 3.9k

A faint groan stirs Marcus awake, he takes a few seconds to fully come to, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Trying to listen for that sound again, unsure if it was a dream or not. He reaches across the plush white bedding of the king sized bed looking for you, his beautiful and very pregnant wife, only to find the bed empty.

Usually, worry and panic would rush through him if you weren’t in bed, but you appear to be in your nesting phase and it hasn’t been unusual in these last few weeks for him to find you rearranging the nursery or ordering more things off Amazon at strange hours. You also seemed to have the strangest midnight cravings, like mayonnaise on ice cream, or there was that night he walked on you about to take a bite out of a kitchen sponge.

He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches, looking over at his alarm clock. 2:56 am.

The sound of you huffing and grunting floats from under the door of your ensuite bathroom. You sound like you’re struggling or in pain and adrenaline courses through Marcus as he hops up and rushes to the door. His mind racing to calculate the number of weeks pregnant you are and if it’s too soon for you to be in labour or not.

He tries the door handle to find it locked. “Babe?” He calls, rapping his knuckle in the door gently.

“Sorry. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” you call back, your voice seems off like it’s laced with discomfort. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, you’re not fine, and according to his quick math you’re also at a point where you could go into labour and even though the baby would be a little early, they’d be past the danger zone and the baby would most likely be ok.

“Please open the door. You don’t sound fine.” He says softly, pushing the panic down like the trained FBI agent he is.

You’re quiet for a second before responding in a more stable voice, “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Are you sure everything is ok?” He asks one more time, he knows your stubborn tendencies and how it usually takes him to ask three or four times before you give in.

It’s silent again behind the door. Just the sound of you huffing like you ran a marathon before a sad little ‘no’ leaves your lips. It simultaneously sends him into fix mode and breaks his heart. He hears your bare feet pad across the tile floor followed by the click of the lock.

He cracks the door slowly to come face to face with you in just your sports bra, naked from the ribs down. Your legs are slathered in raspberry and tangerine scented shaving cream and you have a purple razor in your hand. Your cheeks are pink with frustration and the exertion of trying to bend down. Your hair’s piled on top of your head, a few loose strands falling and sticking along the nape of your neck.

He leans his toned bicep against the doorframe, only wearing his tight black boxers, then crosses his arms and looks at you tenderly. His voice is soft and full of love as he says, “Oh, sweetie. What are you doing?”

The tears of frustration start to pool along your lash line. “I’m gonna give birth and I can’t be a Sasquatch, but I can’t bend over without feeling like my lungs are being crushed by my giant belly.”

Marcus cups your face, wiping away the stray tear and bringing your eyes to his. “Honey, you’re not a Sasquatch. And even if you were, they’re doctors. Come here,” his hand trails to the nape of your neck and he pulls you gently into him, wrapping both arms around you and tucking your head into his neck, “They’re not looking at your leg hair. They’re focused on you and the baby.”

You relax into his arms, belly pressing against his abdomen comfortably. “I can’t go into labour like this,” you say, anxiety wavering in your voice.

Marcus drops his arms from your body and slides past you, slipping his boxers down before stepping into the large, glass walled shower. He turns the nob that controls the rainfall shower head and crooks his fingers at you as a silent call to walk to him.

When you reach him, he starts to unzip the front of your sports bra. “What are you doin’, Mr Pike?” You say softly over the soothing sounds of the shower, watching his thick fingers pull the zipper down.

“I’m shaving Mrs Pike’s legs,” he says as you look back up at him. His chocolate brown eyes soaked you in and made you weak in the knees.

“Marcus, you -“ he cuts you off as your sports bra hits the floor.

“I promise to love, cherish and treasure you,” he starts, lightly pulling you into the shower. He always recites his marriage vows when he can sense you’re about to fight off his help. His way of reminding you that he wants to be there, wants to care for you. He continues his speech as he leads you to the wooden bench, “In all circumstances; good or bad. Forever. Without hesitation or keeping score. From this breath, until my last breath, you are my wife, my love, my partner, and my equal.”

He steadies you as you sit before taking a knee in front of you and smiling up at you sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It’s the middle of the night and this incredibly sweet man doesn’t even question or fight you. Just supports and loves you with his whole being. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Baby, you’re growing a person for us. You deserve so much more,” he holds his palm out and you place the razor in his hand. His other hand wraps around your swollen ankle lifting it to rest your foot on his knee. Before you can say much he starts making slow, gentle strokes of the razor up your leg.

You’re both silent for a moment, him lost in the sight of your soft skin as he shaves your leg, you lost in him and the way he’s looking at you as he drags the sharp razor so tenderly across your skin. The steam from the shower wraps around the two of you, encasing you in your own little cloud. The rest of the world and all your worries are temporarily blocked out until all your thoughts are just Marcus. Sweet, loving, emotionally available, Marcus Pike.

He reaches for the detachable shower head and drizzles warm water down your shin and calf, using his free hand to rinse away the excess shaving cream. You go to move your leg away but he grabs your ankle to keep you there. After switching off the water he puts it back and looks up at you, placing a light and lingering kiss on the inside of your knee before placing your foot back on the warm tile floor and grabbing the other ankle.

The shaving cream has washed away from the steam and backsplash from the rainfall behind Marcus, so he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up your leg. You watch again as he focuses all his attention on carefully shaving your other leg. Using the same little strokes, rinsing the razor more often than you would if you were doing it yourself.

After rinsing off the excess soap he glances up at you. “Better?” He asks soothingly.

“Ya,” you say, trying to convince him that your legs were your only worry, but he knows you better than that. He knows that when you flick your eyes away from his and your spine just slightly stiffens you want to ask something but are afraid or nervous to.

“Honey, what else do you need?” His hand kneads the swollen and sore muscles of the calf that’s still propped on his knee.

“Well…” you trail off as you start to blush.

“Mrs Pike. Are you going to ask me to shave your pussy?” He says with a devious little grin. Eyes lighting up like a horny teenager, placing your foot on the floor.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say quickly. “I’m just worried that -“

He lightly covers your lips with his palm and Reminds himself to stay calm. he’s thought about how sensual it would be to shave your most delicious areas, but he knows you have some insecurities about body hair, and he didn’t want you to think you had to be clean shaven for him to find you sexy. Because truthfully, you could be a Sasquatch and he’d still want you. “Oh no, baby. I want to. I really REALLY want to.”

You lightly kiss the inside of his palm as he smiles hungrily at you. Just as your insecurities start to cloud your thoughts Marcus places his hands on your belly and rubs gently. “For the record, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, clean shaven or not. I love the taste of your pussy when it’s like this, it’s sweeter and feels soft against my skin. Plus, I love the way you cry out when I tug on it. So don’t think for a second that my excitement over getting to shave her means I prefer it that way. I don’t. Ok?”

You crash your lips into his, tangling your fingers through the slightly outgrown hair at the nape of his neck. He tastes like toothpaste still from before he went to bed as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his soft wet tongue swiping against yours. The two of you stay like that for a while. Lazily making out in the middle of the night in the shower. His hands trail from your belly to your back, gently massaging the muscles of your lower back and then your hips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath. “I’m going to get a new razor and your special shaving cream. Ok?”

You nod against him. “Are you ok on the bench, honey? Do you need a towel to sit on?”

“No, I’m ok. We can move if the ground is uncomfortable, Marcus.” He’s always beating you to ensure the other is comfortable.

“Be right back,” he winks. You watch him walk out of the shower to the vanity. The water droplets on his back run down the toned and slender muscles that line his back, they catch in the curve of his ass before running down his tight cheeks. You find yourself squeezing your knees together at the sight of your naked husband. He truly is so beautiful, inside and out.

He slips back into the shower and kneels before you, sitting back on his heels. “Slide to the edge, baby.” His hands come to your hips, guiding you forward. He licks his lips and looks up at you through his thick lashes, big brown eyes dancing softly around your face. “Spread your legs for me.”

Normally, saying something like that would sound dirty, or like a command, but it floats gently over the splash of the shower. Soft, caring, and so sweet that you melt back onto your hands, parting your knees wide for your husband. His eyes glaze over slightly as his lips part, your glistening soft folds on display for him. He blinks a few times and takes a slow breath, reaching for the shower head again, cupping the water in his hand and drizzling it along your pussy. The breath catches in your throat, something about this feels incredibly sensual, and it doesn’t help that Marcus is looking down at your pussy like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Is the water ok? Not too hot?” He asks.

How did you get so lucky, but more so, how did anyone divorce this man in the past?

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” your voice waves, it’s breathy and full of arousal. He blinks up at you and smirks. He knows this is turning you on, and he plans to make sure you enjoy yourself as much as possible.

He applies the cream and grabs the razor, popping off the flimsy plastic guard before getting to work. His hand rests above your mound, pulling back gently to make the skin taut. He uses little strokes, rinsing the blade between each swipe of the razor. You close your eyes and let your head fall back as he continues. Once he’s removed all the hair from the top, he rests his hand on the now smooth skin just above your clit and gently pulls back. A soft whimper passes your lips, he’s so close to your most sensitive spots. But he said he’d help you shave, so he continues, swiping the razor in the same short strokes down one lip, and then the other. By the time he’s done, your breathing is rapid and shallow.

“You doing okay up there, baby?” He asks, placing the razor on the bench beside you.

You moan a soft ‘mmmmm-hmm’ as he reaches for the detachable shower head. You open your eyes, watching as he tests the water on his hand and wrist before holding the stream over your pussy. You gasp at the feeling of the warm water pressure flowing over your now swollen clit. Marcus smiles up at you, the dimple on his cheek forming and setting you on fire. He clicks the button on the side of the shower head, increasing the water pressure and holding it closer to your core.

“Marcus,” you whimper, leaning back further. Gravity lolling your head backwards.

“That’s it. Just relax, honey.” He says in a hushed voice, his free hand gripping and massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh higher and higher until he’s at the top. His thick middle and ring fingers coming to tease around your entrance.

“Oh god. Please, Marcus.” You say through bated breath. Your swollen breasts and belly rise and fall with your pleas.

He dips the tips of his fingers inside you, feeling your walls pulse and flutter. Taking his time to slowly fuck his fingers into you, inch by inch. Slowly. Lovingly. All while watching how you react. Watching the way your mouth falls open, eyebrows raising slightly, lips going soft as you moan his name.

Once his fingers are all the way, he curls them forward just as he clicks the button on the shower head, increasing the water pressure to its highest setting. You let out a long, husky wanton moan that echoes off the black tiled walls. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your legs start to shake, as your body almost launches you towards your release. Every muscle seems to go slack and it waves through you, pleasure reverberating from your aching clit, spreading to every cell in your body.

“Marcus. Oh fuck. Don’t stop, Pike. Please.”

You feel lighter, even as your heavy belly bounces as you grind shamelessly into Marcus’s palm and the spray of the shower head. He feels the grip of your slick walled pussy start to relax as you crest over the edge of your orgasm and start to come down. He pulls the stream of water away from your clit, the warmth of his large hand cupping you, his two thick fingers still working you slowly to the bottom of your high.

“You’re such a goddess, baby.” He says proudly. The praise wraps around you like a warm blanket as he slides his fingers from you carefully. “I wanna take you to bed and watch you do that again.”

You find the strength to arch your neck forward and look at him. You smile sleepily and nod, allowing your beautiful husband to take your hand, shut off the water, and lead you to bed. Before helping you climb in, he moves his hands to cup your face, placing his lips against yours. His chest rumbles with a content sigh as your tongue swipes hungrily along his soft bottom lip. One of your hands scoops under your belly, lifting it to relieve the pressure on your lower back, the other reaches for his hard cock. You grip around the base gently and stroke him slowly, matching the energy of the kiss.

“Mmmm, I like that baby,” he says between kisses, “But I’m not done with you yet. Let’s get you into bed.”

You climb in as gracefully as possible, praying silently that you don’t look like those sea lions that you watched on your honeymoon in Alaska a few years ago. You lay down on your back as Marcus climbs on top of you best he can, stretching to keep kissing you, doing his best not to put any of his weight on your bump. This position immediately puts pressure on your body, making you feel short of breath.

Your hands push at Marcus and you sit up slightly, seemingly fighting for breath. “Ugh,” you groan frustratedly, “I can’t breathe like that. I’m sorry. This is so unsexy.”

“Unsexy? I’m rock hard for you,” he says, looking down and then back at you with a smile. “You lay how it’s comfortable, how about that?”

“Pike, I’m only comfortable on my side with that crazy pillow under my leg.” You say, defeated and anxious. “I need you though.”

He thinks for a second, chewing his cheek as he surveys the pillows available. “Ok, what if you lay on your side, bottom leg straight, top leg hooked up and resting on the pillow?”

You smile at him lovingly, “Is that really gonna be sexy?”

“Honey, I’ve never been more turned on by anyone in my entire life. You’re glowing. I’m amazed by you every day.” He fluffs the pillows around you as you turn away from him, bending your leg up as high as your belly allows. “Is that comfy, baby?”

His fingers trace up and down your spine slowly as your body starts to sink and relax into the soft mattress. “Yes,” you whisper.

His lips come to your neck, kissing the soft spot behind your ear, down your neck and then along the top of your shoulder, fingertips swirling along your back and ass cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning at his sweet caresses. His lips continue to kiss your skin and down your back, as he spins his body so his feet are at the head of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says into your skin between kisses. “So strong. So selfless. I love you so much, Mrs Pike.”

Your whole body seems to tingle with anticipation of where he’s going to kiss next, you feel his hair tickle the inside of your top leg as he maneuvers his head between your thighs. You lift your leg higher, desperate to feel his mouth on your already sensitive pussy.

“Please, baby,” you gasp, arching your back slightly. “I need you to…”

His warm soft tongue licks a slow and teasing stripe from your asshole to your clit. A tortured moan leaves your lips, hips bucking into his face. Marcus lets out a silent laugh at your reaction. He’s always loved how your body responds to him. The very first time he made you cum, both of you still fully dressed as you made out, hips grinding into his as you shook, he knew that he wanted to see that for the rest of his life.

“Good girl, let me taste it.” He laps at you again, still just as slowly but with more pressure. Asshole, to entrance, to clit. Once. Twice. The third time his thumb comes to press into your now dripping pussy, tongue flicking around your nub slowly and with perfect pressure.

“You taste so good,” he moans between licks. “Such a good girl for me. You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yesss. Don’t stop, Pike.” He doesn’t stop, he never stops. Not until you’re either begging him to or you’re pushing him away.

“Never, honey,” he mumbles into your wet folds, and that’s when the tight elastic behind your mound snaps, and you cum hard and loud. Your inner walls grip his thumb tightly, pulling it deeper.

“M-Marcus…hnnggg��oh my god. Yes.” You’re lost in the euphoria. Every ache and pain from your pregnancy is temporarily erased and replaced with nothing but pleasure. Sparkling, warm pleasure.

It slowly starts to become too much, slipping into overstimulation. “Marcus. Stop, baby.” He’s always in tune with your body, his thumb already starting to slide out, tongue replaced with light kisses.

You whine as he pulls away, already missing him and the intimacy. “Please fuck me,” you say over your shoulder, his blown out coffee coloured eyes almost black. He slips his body alongside yours, the arm closest to the mattress slipping under your head. He grips his dick with his other hand, pumping it while running it up and down your slit, collecting your arousal.

“Ready, baby?” Marcus asks, kissing the top of your shoulder.

“Just fuck me already!”

If you weren’t pregnant he’d flip you onto your belly and drive into you, probably pull your hair and tell you to cut the attitude. But he knows he has to be gentler right now, so he slowly pushes the thick head of his cock into you. Inching in slowly, almost punishingly. “Don’t be a brat, baby. You know we have to be softer right now.”

You wiggle your ass back, trying to get more. You need all of him. When he’s finally seated all the way inside of you he holds still, sucking on your neck. “Be good, or I’ll just stay like this all night.”

“No, please, baby. Please move.” Your belly makes forward movement impossible so you’re just pinned between your bump and Marcus. “Pike, please.”

He quickly pulls back to the tip and then slides back in. You cry out into his bicep. “Again. Please. Again.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg,” he whispers, fucking in and out of you a few more times. It’s deep and slow, always with a little extra punch of his hips at the very end. “Sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

You reach down to rub your clit, him encouraging you with his words. “That’s a good girl. Touch yourself for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re both on the edge, ready to tumble over together. To get lost in each other's pleasure. He moans deeply in your ear, whispering praises as you cum on his cock, holding off as long as he can before you feel his warm spend fill you. You’ve completely melted for him, unable to move or keep your eyes open. You both lay quiet, his softening cock still buried inside you, breathing heavily together. You both drift off, spent and happy and so unbelievably in love that it’s hard to believe something like this can exist.

Marcus wakes up a few hours later still inside you. He slowly slips himself out, peels his body away from yours and tucks the blankets around you. He leaves you a little handwritten note that he’s going to get French toast and bacon from your favourite place.

Ya, it’s definitely hard to believe that a love like this is yours.

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag

@pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes

@jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense

@iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather

@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #pedro is daddy #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the mentalist

457 notes · View notes

daisyblog · 8 months ago

Text

Birthday Twin

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry welcome their baby girl into the world.

Warning: labour, delivery, child birth, gas and air

11th of April 2024

35 weeks and 5 days pregnant

The Tomlinson family had all travelled to Doncaster for a few days of celebrating YN turning thirty.

“Your last couple of days of being twenty nine Kiddo!”. Louis gently ruffled YN’s hair as he walked by her in their grandparents kitchen. Both filling their plates with some more food from the buffet spread their Nan had made.

“Don’t remind me!” YN groaned as she reached over and put some extra sandwiches on her plate.

“Fookin’ ‘ell, is baby girl hungry tonight?”. Louis joked as he watched his sister continue to fill her plate that was already slightly full of food.

YN laughed as she looked at her plate compared to Louis. “Your niece is a foodie, what can I say?”. She naturally ran her hand over her large bump.

“Can I?” Louis gestured towards her tummy, his way of asking if he could touch. When YN nodded, Louis placed his hand over bump. “‘ello little one, are you gonna come and meet us soon?”.

“You’re going to spoil her rotten aren’t you?”. YN couldn’t help but smile at the small interaction. She had witnessed her brother as a brother, dad and uncle already and she could tell how much love he already had for her little girl.

“Uh obviously, I just hope she comes before tour starts again.”

---

12th of April 2024

35 weeks 6 days pregnant

8:30am

YN suddenly woke from small niggles in her lower stomach, something she had been experiencing for a few weeks. She tried to ignore the dull ache and go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning, she gave in and got up.

As she entered the kitchen she noticed her grandmother sitting at the table with a cup of tea in her hand. “Morning my love, you’re awake early!”.

YN began to make herself a cup of tea, as she sat beside Jen. “Morning Nan, yeah braxton hicks again!”.

“You’ve been having them a lot haven’t you darling?”. Jen had a concerned look on her face as she watched her eldest granddaughter stir her tea.

YN only shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently it’s normal at this stage, I just didn’t realise how painful they could be”.

11:00am

As the morning went on YN noticed how the niggles only continued and become a tad more painful. But not wanting to draw attention or to cause everyone to worry, especially Harry, she suggested her and Harry take Teddy for a walk.

They were walking through the quiet field, Teddy running just a bit in front of them, when YN stopped suddenly and held her tummy as a sharp pain caught her off guard.

“What’s wrong babe? Are you alright?” Harry immediately went into panic mode, worry evident all over his face. His hand protectively wrapped around her smaller frame.

“Yeah, just cramp that’s all”. YN noticed Harry’s worried look, his eyebrows in a tight frown and tried her best to hide how much pain she was really in. “I’m fine, it’s braxton hicks again.”.

Although Harry wasn’t fully convinced, they continued their walk before heading back to the house.

2:00pm

Within a few hours, the pain had gotten worse with YN baring her weight on anyone or anything to try and ease the pain. It was when YN cried out in pain, as she grabbed onto Louis’ hand, that Harry decided to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m phoning the hospital, this can’t just be braxton hicks!” Harry announced as he began to dial the number on his phone.

“Harry’s right Tiny, you’re in far too much pain for this not to be real labour”. Louis agreed with Harry, taking note at how much his sister was squeezing his hand.

After phoning the hospital and explaining everything to the midwife, Harry was told that it sounded like YN was in early labour and they needed to monitor and time how quick she was having contractions.

At this news Daisy, Phoebe and the other men decided to take Lucky and Olive to Phoebe and Jack’s house to give YN some space before she had to go to hospital.

“Ahhhh!” YN cried out in pain as she held onto Harry for support. “This hurts so fookin’ much!”.

Harry rubbed circles on YN’s back, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “I know baby…but you’re doing so well.”.

“You’re doing so well YN”. Lottie praised her sister from where she sat next to Louis. “All the pain is worth it in the end, trust me”.

“Lottie’s right Tiny…just think you’ll be holding your baby sooner than you thought”. Louis gave Harry a small smile, knowing how special that moment will be for them both.

5:30pm

With her contractions lasting around a minute and only being five minutes apart, YN found herself in the hospital with gas and air being her new best friend.

YN was lying down on the bed, the gas and air attachment in her mouth as she breathed through another contraction. Harry sat on one side of the bed telling her how proud of her he was and saying how it wouldn’t be long until their little one would be here.

“Harry…baby…I can’t do this!”. YN’s head hit the white plump pillow behind her, as the contraction ended. “I’m so tired already.”.

“You can do it and you are doing it”. Harry brushed some of her away from her face. “You’re making me so proud!”.

“YN, you’re doing amazing and just remember nothing worth having is easy”. Lottie encouraged her sister, having been through labour and birth herself, she what to say.

“Listen to your birthing partners YN, you’re doing amazing”. The midwife smiled proudly at how supportive and calm they both were. “How about trying to the birthing pool?”.

Harry helped YN into the pool and instantly YN’s once tense body was now relaxed. In between contractions she began to make jokes about how she’s glad she had shaved her legs before that day.

When the next contraction hit, Harry was quick to kneel down beside the pool and hold onto YN’s hand as she took in the gas and air to numb the pain. “That’s it, keep breathing through the pain, you’re doing so well love”.

8:00pm

“So how did you two meet?”. The midwife began to make conversation with the couple as another contraction ended.

YN was back sitting on the bed, the attachment still in her hand whilst her other one held Harry’s. “He was my brother’s best friend”.

“Oh how interesting!” The midwife leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more. “How did that go? You know breaking the news to him?”.

“Not well but he came around pretty quickly”. Harry explained as YN worked her way through another sharp pain.

“I wouldn’t have listened even if he didn’t come around”. YN allowed the gas and air to do a little bit of talking. “Couldn’t resist the charm”.

Before anyone could respond, a gush of water surrounded YN and turned the blue sheet below a darker shade. “And that’s your water breaking!” The midwife announced before she helps YN to clean herself up.

11:45pm

The contractions were coming thick and fast, YN was attached to the gas and air more than ever and Harry tried to hide how hard she was squeezing his hand.

“YN I’m going to exam you, is that alright darling?”. The midwife stood at the bottom on the bed, gloves covering her fingers ready for the examination. With YN’s permission, the midwife began to see how far YN was dilated. “Oh darling, I can feel baby’s head, do you feel like you-“.

Before the midwife finished; YN let out a small groan as she bore down and began to push. Harry was overwhelmed with joy, excitement but also nervousness that any minute now their whole world was about to change.

“Keep listening to your body YN, you’re doing amazing my darling” the midwife encouraged as she continued to watch the baby’s head begin to crown.

“Aww I can see her head!”. Lottie’s excited voice could be heard as she took in every moment of watching her niece being born.

YN took a rest in between contractions before she needed to push again. “I love you “. Harry placed a peck to YN’s forehead.

“I love you too!”.

0:01am

After several more pushes, Harry and Lottie were in awe as the tiny little baby appeared and was placed on YN’s bear chest. The tears streamed down YN and Harry’s cheeks.

“Hello baby girl!”. YN held her daughter tight, and kissed her head gently. Despite all the pain YN was still in, a large smile covered her face as she looked down at the small version of herself and Harry.

“Baby girl born one minute past midnight on the thirteen of April, weighting six pound exactly”. The midwife announced to the three of them.

Harry smiled down at his wife and newborn daughter. “Happy birthday baby!”. It was in that moment that YN had realised that their little girl was born on her thirtieth birthday.

---

13th of April 2024

6 hours old

“Thank you.” Harry spoke into the quiet and calm room as he held their newborn in his bare arms. “You’re a real life superwoman for doing all that and bringing our girl into the world!”.

“I’d do it a thousand times again because she was totally worth it”. YN watched as Harry’s hand held onto the tiny newborn fingers. “I couldn’t have done it without you or Lotts though.”.

“She’s your double”. Harry smiled as he observed the little’s one features, all resembling her mother’s. “She looks like your Mum too!”. He gave YN a sad smile.

YN didn’t want to get too emotional at the thought that her Mum wasn’t there to meet her daughter, so she tried to remain positive. “I think me Mum sent her as a birthday gift and it’s the best gift I’ve ever had”.

---

Instagram Reel:

Made by Lottie

The black and white video begins, the sound of Heartbeat by James Arthur playing over it.

YN is sat on the birthing ball, her hips moving slowly, in her grandparents living room. Harry kneeling down in front of her, holding her gently and whispering how well she’s doing. Louis is sat to her side, holding onto her hand and being a support whilst he can.

In the hospital corridor, YN has her neck tucked into Harry’s chest as they stop to allow her to breathe through a contraction. Harry places small pecks to the top of her head.

Sitting crossed leg on the bed, YN takes in the gas and air that she’s holding up to her mouth. Her eyes are closed as she’s breathing through each contraction.

YN is in the birthing pool, the gas and air still attached to her hand has she takes in another breath, Harry is kneeling down by her side. She holds onto his hand, he looks on with a slight frown on his face as he watches his wife work through another contraction.

Now lying on the bed, YN cradles her new born daughter to her chest, tears running down her and Harry’s face as they meet their little baby for the first time. Grace Johannah Robyn Styles had stolen their hearts and YN couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift.

---

ynstyles

liked by annetwist, lottietomlinson, and 5,634,543 others

ynstyles Grace Johannah Robyn Styles🤍 View all 15,788 comments

niallhoran Aww my little bestie❤️Can’t wait to meet her xx ⌞ ynstyles Little Grace is excited to meet her Uncle Niall!!

gemmastyles I’M AN AUNTIE🥰❤️Thank you both for blessing me with the most beautiful niece xx ⌞ynstyles AUNTIE GEM🩷

annetwist My family grows and my heart is so full❤️Congratulations my darlings! Grace is a beautiful little girl and I love you all very much xxx ⌞ynstyles We love you😘🥰Thank you for being the best Grandma already❤️

lottietomlinson Our beautiful Grace!! What a magical moment watching her come into the world. Love you all ❤️ ⌞ynstyles Thank you for being there every step of the way Lotts!! I’m so glad I got to share that special moment with you. Love you lots🩷

louist91 Can’t wait for more cuddles!! Proud of you both!! Grace is amazing!!xx ⌞ynstyles Grace loved her snuggles with Uncle Lou xxx ⌞harryfan3 Uncle Louis🥹 ⌞louisfan7 I bet Louis is the best uncle!!!!

zayn congrats guys! So happy for you. Big love x ⌞ynstyles Thanks Z! Hope to see you soon xx ⌞1dfan6 OMG!!! WE’RE GETTING A REUNION!

louteasdale 🥹🥹🥹Congratulations babes, can’t wait for a cuddle xx

liampayne Congratulations both. Can’t wait to meet her!

the.daisytomlinson Another precious niece to love🩷 So proud of you sis xx

thephoebetomlinson Olive’s little bestie🩷🩷

marktommo1111 Beyond proud❤️Another chapter begins!xx

mrlewisburton Congratulations to both of you. Welcome to parenthood❤️

sallietommo A precious baby girl! So proud of you beautiful girl❤️❤️❤️

perrieedwards Congratulations babes🩷Welcome to motherhood xx

pillowpersonpp Wow! What a cutie🥹

daniellepeazer Beautiful name🤍Can’t wait to meet her☺️

ryan.viggars ❤️

jefezoff Congrats guys! Very happy for you both!

j_corden A huge congratulations. Can’t wait to meet the little one

jack.varley7 Congrats guys!!

brianasrealaccount Congratulations Auntie YN and Uncle Harry. I can’t wait to meet baby Grace. I love you so much, love from Freddie❤️ ⌞ynstyles We can’t wait to see you Fred! Grace can’t wait for cuddles from her big cousin. Love and miss you soooooo much😘

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

447 notes · View notes

kckt88 · 2 months ago

Text

A Heartbeat Between Us VI

Summary:

Things between Y.N and Aemond get tense as her due date approaches.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Fluff, Tension, Petty Disagreements, Frustration, Kissing, Allusion to Sex, Labour, Child Birth.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 4750

A.N - Took Inspiration from Friends (The one where Rachel is late).

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

As Y.N’s due date approached, the final weeks of her pregnancy were a flurry of last-minute preparations.

She and Aemond made multiple trips to baby stores, ticking off the remaining items on their list: tiny baby clothes, boxes of nappies, and, of course, the pram.

Aemond, for all his intelligence and competence in other areas, found himself stumped by the bloody contraption.

One evening, they stood in the living room as he tried to fold the pram down. Y.N. sat on the sofa, watching him with growing amusement.

"How do you manage this with just a few clicks?" Aemond grumbled, pressing buttons, pulling levers, but the pram remained stubbornly upright.

Y.N. laughed so hard she clutched her belly.

"It’s not that hard. Watch." She stood up and, with a few quick movements, had the pram folded and set aside.

Aemond stared at the pram, then at her, and back at the pram. "You’re mocking me," he muttered, but a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing her joy, even at his expense, was worth the mild humiliation.

They also hosted Alicent for dinner one evening and she had practically melted at the sight of the nursery.

The soft, cream and blue décor, the dragon mobile, and the carefully arranged baby furniture brought a wide smile to her face.

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent said, her eyes bright with pride, “This is perfect. The baby will be so loved here.”

Meanwhile, Aemond had reluctantly resumed his game nights with Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena.

While he loved spending time with his siblings, Aegon’s constant teasing about Y.N. still irritated him to no end.

He was convinced that his brother harboured a playful, if not slightly serious, attraction to her.

The knowing looks Aegon would shoot him during the evenings, paired with the offhanded comments about how lucky Aemond was, drove him mad.

Yet, for Y.N.’s sake, he kept his cool—mostly.

Except for that one incident where he may or may not have accidentally on purpose shoved Aegon's head into the table when Y.N excused herself and went to the bathroom.

At home, Y.N. had taken time off from her job and settled into a comfortable routine as her pregnancy neared its end.

However, as she edged closer to 40 weeks, she grew increasingly frustrated.

"I feel like a balloon about to pop," she grumbled one evening, sprawled on the sofa while Aemond massaged her swollen feet.

Aemond, who was trying to remain calm on the outside but was secretly on pins and needles every day at work, nodded sympathetically.

"It’ll happen when the baby is ready," he said, though inside he was just as eager as she was.

Every time his phone buzzed during meetings, he found himself hoping it was her saying it was time, only to be met with disappointment.

He had taken to keeping his phone on the loudest setting, checking it obsessively, and texting her constantly to make sure she was alright.

Each day that passed without that long-awaited call made him more anxious.

The tension in the penthouse had been unbearable over the last few days. Y.N.’s growing discomfort and frustration with being overdue had turned every small annoyance into a full-blown argument.

Aemond, while trying to be as patient as possible, found himself at a loss. Everything he did seemed to irritate her.

If he tried to comfort her, she snapped. If he gave her space, she complained he was being distant. It was driving him insane, but he knew it wasn’t really her fault.

Their sex life had also dwindled into sparse encounters, because Y.N was getting too uncomfortable and Aemond was worried about hurting the baby, which Y.N took completely the wrong way and became convinced he was disgusted by her and she bawled her eyes out until he took her to bed and devoured her cunt like a starving man.

One night, things came to a head. After yet another disagreement, Y.N. stormed off to the spare room and slammed the door shut, refusing to speak to him for two days.

Aemond, for his part, left her alone, but the silence between them weighed heavily, filling the apartment with a tension that was almost suffocating.

He kept telling himself it was just the stress and hormones, but it didn’t make it any easier.

And neither did Aegon's closeness to Y.N, it would grate on Aemond consistantly, that he would bear the brunt of her frustration but Aegon would get the smiles and the joy when he would sneak her chilli cheese bites from Burger King or Hot Wings from KFC.

Even Daeron was granted her smiles but him nooooo he was only granted the version of her that resembled a man eating beast from those damn movies she liked so much.

Sometimes she would glare at him and Aemond was convinced that she was about to eat him alive.

The tension only grew worse when they attended her final midwife appointment. They sat in the examination room, the air thick with unspoken frustrations.

As they waited for the midwife, Marie, to arrive, Aemond began rhythmically tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Y.N. shot him a glare. “Tell me, Aemond, have you always been this irritating?” she snapped.

Aemond frowned, glancing over at her. "I'm not trying to irritate you."

"Well, I guess you just have a natural talent for it," she retorted, her voice sharp and biting.

Aemond sighed, leaning back in the chair. "You know, the midwife will be here soon. Maybe we shouldn’t speak until then."

Y.N. pulled a face, her irritation flaring even more. "Oh, okay then," she said mockingly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the room filled with palpable tension.

But Y.N., too restless to let it go, spoke up again.

"Seriously, Aemond, breathe louder. That’s great," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aemond clenched his jaw, shooting her a look. "You know, we should probably ask the midwife if she even knows how to deliver a baby that’s half human and half pure evil."

Before Y.N. could respond, the door opened, and Marie entered the room, wearing her usual kind smile.

"Good morning, Marie! How are you?" Y.N. greeted her with a smile that was shockingly pleasant considering the argument she’d just been having.

Aemond shot her a sideways glance, his frustration bubbling over. "Oh, so you’re nice to her," he muttered darkly.

Y.N. rounded on him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "She has the drugs," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Marie, ever professional, pretended not to notice the exchange as she began her checkup.

"Alright, Y.N., let’s have a quick look," she said gently. Y.N. lay back on the examination table, opening her legs as Marie prepared for the exam.

"Eight days late now, huh? You must be getting pretty uncomfortable," Marie commented sympathetically.

Y.N. let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, just a bit," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Aemond scoffed beside her, but said nothing more.

Marie began the examination, then smiled up at them. "Well, you’re 80% effaced, so things are definitely progressing. But it could still take a little while longer," she explained. "If you’re feeling anxious, there are a few ways to help things along."

"Do them" Aemond blurted out, leaning forward.

The stress of the last few days, combined with his helplessness in this situation, was starting to show.

Marie gave him an understanding smile. "Actually, they’re things you can do at home. Some natural remedies that have been shown to be effective in helping labour along."

Y.N. nodded eagerly. "We’re ready to try anything," she said.

Marie began to list off the options. "Well, there’s an herbal tea you can try, eating spicy food, and taking long walks—"

"Great," Y.N. interrupted. "I’ll do those."

Marie smiled but hesitated for a moment before continuing. "However, there’s one remedy that’s proven to be most effective in encouraging labour-and that’s sex."

Y.N. looked at Aemond with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but Aemond’s face immediately fell into a look of disbelief.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Aemond and Y.N sat in the penthouse, the dinner table littered with empty plates from what felt like the hundredth spicy meal they'd shared in hopes of triggering labour.

Y.N poked at her remaining enchilada, sighing in frustration.

"Aemond, we've tried all the spicy food. It's not working," she said, exasperated.

Aemond, ever determined, pushed a small plate toward her.

"Okay, how about one of these peppers? It’s supposed to be really hot." He sounded so sure of himself, as he picked on up and took a bite.

Gasping in surprise when the spice burnt his mouth.

Y.N looked at him, rolled her eyes, but took the pepper anyway, popping it into her mouth.

She chewed it with no visible reaction, much to Aemond’s disbelief.

His eye widened as he watched her, while he took a sip of water to cool his burning tongue.

"I feel nothing," she said, almost too casually, as Aemond continued to sip from his glass. Y.N then looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Speaking of hot, watching you struggle with that pepper really makes me want to have sex with you."

Aemond nearly choked on his water, setting the glass down with a thud.

"Stop it," he muttered, wiping his mouth.

"Oh, come on," Y.N teased. "Why are we wasting time with all this other stuff? We know what's going to work. It's midwife recommended."

"We have to have some boundaries," Aemond said sternly, his resolve trying to hold firm.

Y.N scoffed. "You didn’t care about boundaries when you were putting the baby in there." She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

Aemond shot her a look. "As I recall, you were also an active participant."

Y.N waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not the point, and you know it."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not going to make love to you just so you’ll go into labour."

Y.N laughed loudly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Make love? What are you, a girl?"

"Always a great way to get into a man’s pants," Aemond muttered sarcastically, rolling his eye.

"No-come on wuss, make loooove to me" said Y.N smirking.

"Seriously-" exclaimed Aemond.

Y.N leaned forward, her voice dripping with humour. "Come on, just think of it as providing a service. Just think of me as a ketchup bottle—sometimes you’ve gotta bang on the end of it to get something out."

Aemond shot her a deadpan look, his voice flat. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"Aemy-" Y.N whined, pouting a little as she leaned her elbows on the table. "I’m miserable here." She looked at him with wide eyes, batting her lashes playfully, and the use of her nickname for him weakened his resolve.

Aemond clenched his jaw. "You—what—never mind."

"What, Aemy? Are you not going to talk?" she teased, mockingly. "How on earth will you ever annoy me? Oh, wait a minute, I know—" She exaggerated her breathing, mimicking the way Aemond breathed loudly, then added with a smirk, "You’d think that damn pepper would’ve cleared your sinuses, but nooo-"

Before she could say anything more, Aemond lunged toward her, pulling her into a deep, heated kiss that took her by surprise.

Y.N blinked up at him, breathless. "What are you doing?"

He took her hand firmly, standing up and pulling her toward the bedroom, his face set with determination. "I’m getting that baby out of you."

Aemond was jolted awake by the sound of a pained cry and the sharp clatter of glass smashing. His heart pounded in his chest as he shot up in bed, immediately noticing that Y.N. wasn’t beside him.

Panic surged through him as he leapt out of bed, rushing toward the source of the noise.

Entering the kitchen, he found Y.N. hunched over, clutching the counter, her face twisted in pain. A shattered glass lay scattered across the floor.

"Y.N.?" he called out, his voice tight with concern.

She turned her head toward him, her face pale and strained. "I think it's time," she gasped before letting out another cry, her body wracked with pain.

Without hesitation, Aemond carefully made his way over, avoiding the broken glass, and gently took her hand. She clung to him, shaking as he helped move her away from the mess.

Y.N. suddenly gasped, looking down as a trickle of water began to run down her legs. Her wide eyes met his, fear and excitement swirling within them.

"It's definitely time," Aemond confirmed, trying to remain calm despite the rapid thudding of his heart.

"I need to get changed first," she whispered through laboured breaths.

Aemond helped her to the bedroom, supporting her as they slowly made their way across the penthouse.

He carefully dressed her in comfortable clothes, his fingers trembling as he moved. Then he quickly threw on jeans and a shirt, grabbing the suitcase Y.N. had packed weeks ago.

Just as they were about to leave, another contraction hit, and Y.N. cried out in pain, her hand clutching Aemond’s forearm tightly.

His heart ached at the sight of her discomfort, but he stayed steady, whispering reassurances.

"You're doing great. Just breathe," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

He grabbed his car keys, and together, they made their way out of the penthouse.

The drive to the hospital was agonizing for Aemond, though he tried his best to keep calm.

Every pained cry or sharp gasp from Y.N. made his hands tighten on the wheel, his heart clenching painfully.

He hated seeing her in so much discomfort, knowing there was little he could do but get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Finally, they arrived. Aemond parked the car and immediately helped Y.N. inside, gripping her hand as she leaned on him for support.

He helped her check in at the front desk, and she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her voice trembling.

"Please, don’t leave me," she whispered, her fear evident.

Aemond's heart clenched, and he pulled her closer, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "I won’t ever leave you. I promise."

"I-I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you"

"It's ok-it's all forgotten" replied Aemond.

As she was being checked over by the nurses, Aemond quickly sent off a text to his mother, letting her know that Y.N. was in labour.

He then shot off a quick message to Helaena, knowing she’d take care of informing Aegon and Daeron.

The moment he heard Y.N. calling for him, his phone was forgotten. He rushed back into the room, his heart pounding with urgency.

"I'm here," he said softly, taking her hand in his as he knelt beside her. "I’m not going anywhere."

Hours had passed, and the labour had intensified. Y.N was in agony as each contraction ripped through her body, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Aemond remained at her side the entire time, unable to bear seeing her like this. His heart ached with every pained cry she made.

He had lashed out at the midwives more than once, demanding they do something—anything—to help her.

But all they could do was reassure him that everything was progressing as it should.

Despite his own helpless frustration, Aemond never let go of Y.N's hand, even as she squeezed it with such force he was sure his bones would crack under the pressure.

But he would endure it without a second thought. Pressing kisses to her sweat-soaked forehead, he whispered constant encouragement, telling her to breathe, reminding her she was doing great.

And then, it was time to push.

Y.N cried out, her strength nearly spent. "I don’t know if I can keep doing this," she gasped, her voice trembling with exhaustion.

Aemond immediately leaned in, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice low but firm. "Yes, you can. You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I can’t live without you." His words were filled with so much love and admiration that despite her pain, Y.N found the strength to push again.

The midwife, Marie, encouraged her as the baby’s head crowned. "Just one more, Y.N. You’re so close!"

With a final scream, Y.N pushed, and suddenly, the sound of a baby’s strong, healthy cries filled the room.

Aemond’s voice trembled as he whispered, "He’s here. Oh, gods, he’s here."

Y.N, exhausted, collapsed back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

But Aemond’s joyful cry brought her back. She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up, her chest heaving as she took in the sight of their newborn son.

Aemond, eyes filled with unshed tears, helped her sit up, his hands trembling.

As Marie placed the squalling, wriggling newborn onto Y.N's chest, happy tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, he’s so beautiful," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as she gazed down at their son.

Aemond, who rarely allowed his emotions to show so openly, sobbed quietly as he stared at the tiny life they had created.

His eye was glued to the baby’s small, delicate features—his tiny hands, his soft, silver hair, and those piercing blue eyes.

"He looks just like you," Y.N said softly, running her fingers through the baby’s soft hair. She smiled up at Aemond, who was rendered speechless by the overwhelming love he felt.

His child. Their son.

Marie gently asked, "Does he have a name?"

Y.N nodded, her voice filled with pride and love. "Jack Aemond Targaryen."

As the midwife, Marie, finished wrapping up baby Jack in a soft blanket, she turned to Aemond and asked, "Would you like to hold your son?"

Aemond froze, panic flashing in his eye. "I-I've never held a baby before."

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Don’t worry, I’ll show you how." With practiced hands, she gently placed Jack into Aemond’s arms, guiding him on how to support his tiny head.

Slowly, Aemond’s tension melted as he adjusted, the weight of his son both heavy with responsibility and light as a feather.

Before he knew it, Aemond was grinning, a quiet, proud smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his son. Jack squirmed slightly but remained peaceful in his arms, so small and perfect.

Aemond's chest tightened with an overwhelming rush of emotion. The world around him seemed to blur, everything else vanishing as he stared at the life he had helped create.

As the midwives began tending to Y.N and the afterbirth, Aemond remained mesmerized by his son. The reality of fatherhood hit him hard in this quiet moment.

When Y.N had first told him she was pregnant, he had offered his support immediately, without hesitation. But deep down, he’d been terrified. His own father had been distant, cold—an example of everything a father shouldn’t be.

Aemond had no idea how to be a good father, how to give his son the love and care he deserved.

But now, holding Jack in his arms, a surge of love, unlike anything he had ever felt, filled him. He vowed silently, with everything in him, that his son would never feel the same isolation and neglect that he had experienced.

Jack would always know he was loved, that Aemond was there for him in every way. He would give his son the attention and affection that he himself had longed for.

Once Y.N had been helped and everything was sorted, Marie mentioned she could take a shower to freshen up.

Aemond carefully placed Jack in his cot and immediately went to help Y.N. She was a bit unsteady on her feet, the exhaustion of labour evident, so Aemond stayed close, supporting her as they made their way to the bathroom.

He washed her hair gently, his hands tender as he helped her clean up, mindful of her every movement.

She had already started bleeding, so he helped her with the pad and assisted in getting her dressed.

When they returned, he had pulled a few strings and arranged for Y.N. to have a private room.

Once she was comfortable and laid in bed, Aemond couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and full of love.

Y.N's fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, and she whispered, "You keep kissing me."

Aemond pulled back slightly, worry creeping in. Was he pushing too much? Overwhelming her with affection when she might need space?

"Do you-want me to stop?" he asked, his voice careful, trying to hide his uncertainty.

Y.N’s fingers brushed over her lips, and she quickly replied, "No."

A wide smile broke across Aemond's face, his relief and happiness palpable. "I'm happy, Y.N. So happy."

She touched his face, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. "So am I."

This was it—the moment he had been waiting for. Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a deep breath.

Now or never. He leaned closer, his heart swelling with emotion. "I-I want to tell you that I lov—"

Before the words could leave his lips, the door burst open. Aegon strutted in, followed closely by Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena.

Aemond bit back a groan, his moment lost as his family swarmed into the room.

Alicent’s face lit up with joy as she carefully took Jack into her arms for the first time. Her eyes softened as she gazed down at her first grandchild, her smile tender and full of love.

"Oh, he's beautiful," she whispered. She gently rocked him, her heart swelling as she savoured the moment. “What’s his name?”

Aemond, standing proudly beside Y.N’s bed, smiled and said, “Jack.”

Alicent raised her brows slightly, surprised. “Jack? It’s not very Targaryen,” she remarked, though her tone was more curious than critical.

Aemond nodded. “It’s in honour of Y.N’s grandfather.”

At that, Alicent’s face softened even more. She nodded approvingly, clearly touched by the gesture.

"That's lovely," she said, staring down at her grandson with pride and affection.

Of course, Aegon couldn’t resist making his presence known. “So, Y.N.,” he asked with a mischievous grin, “how much did it hurt?”

Y.N. narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. “How about I kick you in the balls, and then you’ll have an idea?”

Aegon grimaced, backing off slightly as Daeron burst into laughter. “She’s got you there,” Daeron teased, clapping Aegon on the back.

Meanwhile, Helaena stood nearby, completely mesmerized by her tiny nephew. She leaned in, peering at him with wide, curious eyes. “He’s so perfect,” she murmured, utterly enamoured.

Suddenly, Jack began to cry, his small face scrunching up as the sound filled the room.

Alicent chuckled softly. “Sounds like someone is hungry,” she said as she carefully handed him back to Y.N.

Y.N. exposed her breast and gently guided Jack to latch on, and he began to nurse immediately, his cries fading.

A moment of quiet awe fell over the room as they watched the newborn find comfort in his mother’s arms.

Daeron shook his head in disbelief, glancing over at Aemond. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad,” he said, smiling.

Aemond, beaming with pride, hugged his younger brother. “Neither can I,” he admitted, his voice full of wonder.

Aegon, true to form, was less subtle. His attention was quickly drawn to Y.N. breastfeeding. “Whoa, look at him go. He’s definitely your kid, Aemond.”

Without missing a beat, Aemond slapped Aegon on the back of the head. “Don’t look at her breast, you pervert.”

Aegon shrugged, rubbing his head. “It was an accident.”

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, glared at him. “Get the fuck out,” he demanded.

Leaning over, Aegon pressed a soft kiss to Y.N.’s forehead. “I’ll come back soon.”

Y.N., still nursing Jack, smiled up at him and said, “Can you bring me a chocolate bar and some Lucozade when you do?”

“Anything for you, Y.N.,” said Aegon with a cheeky grin as he sauntered out of the room, completely ignoring Aemond’s death glare.

As Aegon left, Daeron leaned in and whispered to Aemond, “He’s doing it on purpose. Ignore him, and he’ll give up.”

Aemond huffed. “He’ll give up when my fist is in his face.”

Y.N. suddenly yawned, exhausted from the day’s events. Noticing, Aemond turned to the others. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day. It’s time for Y.N. to rest.”

Alicent leaned over and kissed Y.N. gently on the cheek. “You did so well, my dear. Rest now,” she said softly.

Helaena smiled warmly. “I’ll make some meals for you both, so you won’t have to worry about cooking once you’re home.”

Aemond nodded in gratitude as Daeron gave him a firm clap on the back.

“Take care of her and the little one,” Daeron said, waving goodbye to Y.N. as the family made their way out.

After Jack finished nursing, Aemond carefully lifted him to rub his back, gently patting until the baby let out a small burp.

Smiling, Aemond placed him in the little cot beside Y.N. and tucked him in under the soft blanket Helaena had made.

Y.N., exhausted but happy, looked at Aemond. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

Aemond nodded immediately. “Of course.”

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him.

He glanced down at their sleeping son, so small and perfect, and then over to Y.N., who had already begun to drift off, her breathing steady and calm.

Aemond smiled to himself, squeezing her hand gently, thinking how lucky he was to have both of them in his life.

Aemond hurried back to the penthouse, his mind still swirling with the overwhelming realization that he was now a father.

He moved almost on autopilot as he showered and changed into fresh clothes, but the feeling of awe and disbelief remained.

He had a son. His son. It felt surreal.

As he was about to leave for the hospital, he decided to stop by a florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers—Y.N.’s favourite.

He wanted to make her smile, to show her how much she meant to him, especially after everything she'd just gone through.

Returning to the hospital, Aemond's good mood evaporated the moment he walked into the room and saw Aegon sitting beside the bed, holding Jack. His brows furrowed as he asked, “Where is Y.N.?”

Aegon, lounging comfortably, glanced up with a grin. “She’s just nipped for a shower. She asked me to watch Jack. Is that okay with you?” he added with a slightly cheeky tone, knowing it would irk Aemond.

Aemond narrowed his eye but sighed. “I suppose so.”

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Y.N. appeared, looking refreshed in clean pyjamas, her hair wrapped in a towel.

A bright smile crossed her face when she saw Aemond standing there. “Oh, you’re back!” she said warmly, walking over to him.

Aemond wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips before handing her the sunflowers.

Y.N.’s face lit up as she took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you,” she said, kissing him again.

Aemond, still basking in her smile, then turned his attention to Jack. He took the baby from Aegon, holding his son close to his chest, instantly feeling that surge of love again as he stared at the tiny face nestled in his arms.

Meanwhile, Aegon reached for a small carrier bag sitting next to him. “Oh, by the way, I got you something,” he said, handing it to Y.N.

She peeked inside and immediately let out a squeal of excitement. “A chocolate bar and Lucozade!”

She hugged Aegon in appreciation before eagerly unwrapping the chocolate and taking a big bite. “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she sighed contentedly.

Aemond watched with a small smile but raised an eyebrow when Y.N. turned to him with more news. “Oh, while you were gone, the midwives said I could go home.”

His smile faded slightly with concern. “Already? Isn’t it a little too soon?”

Y.N. shook her head. “I’d much rather be at home. We can start getting Jack into a routine, and I’ll be more comfortable there.”

Aemond considered it for a moment before nodding. It did make sense. He wanted them home, too—where he could make sure both Y.N. and Jack had everything they needed. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Aegon piped up then, smirking. “I’ll give you guys a hand.”

Aemond shot him a look. “I’m more than capable of handling it.”

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, but if you’re carrying Jack, you can’t expect Y.N. to carry her suitcase after just having a baby.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, annoyed but unable to argue. Aegon was right.

Before he could reply, the midwife entered the room with a smile and a folder of paperwork. “I’ve got your discharge papers here,” she said, glancing at Y.N. and then Jack.

Aemond sighed, knowing that Aegon’s presence would continue to irritate him, but he focused on the positive—his family was going home, and that was what mattered most.

TBC

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut

148 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 1 year ago

Text

manchester is saved II m.earps x reader

"mumma!" you looked up from your phone, pocketing the device with a wide smile watching your almost six year old son sprint toward you, backpack comically almost as big as he was.

"well hello! someone's had a good day then hm?" you laughed at the huge grin on his face as he waved goodbye to his friends, you sending a smile to some of their parents you knew quite well.

"the best day!" mason beamed, and you couldn't help but melt at how much he looked like your wife when he did so. he had your eyes and the same dirty blonde hair that ran deep in your genes, but his sloped nose, rambunctious laugh and cheeky smile was exactly alike your wife.

"well don't hold out on me, tell me all about it." you demanded as you took his bag from him and he grabbed your hand, swinging it to and fro as the two of you began to walk home, not living very far from the school both you and mary took turns walking him to and from each day.

he began to happily ramble on and on about his day, which you knew he would enjoy given the fact they'd run a sports camp for the kindergarten class for half the day, you having give him very very strict instructions not to lose the permission slip you'd tucked away securely into his bag last week.

"then we have sports day next week! are you and mama coming?" he asked hopefully, looking up at you as you affectionately ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, moving it out of his eyes. "of course my love, we'll both be there." you promised as he cheered happily, hugging your leg.

"oh! can i go get mama some flowers?" he gasped, seeing a few wild daises growing in a clump on the nature strip, sprinting off after you nodded. you leaned against the front gate of your house with his backpack in hand, watching on carefully as the five year old squatted down.

you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself at the way his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, eyebrows knitted into a frown exactly mirroring mary's own concentrating face as his eyes wandered the clumps of flowers in front of him.

you and your wife were both fiercely protective over the boy ever since he'd blessed the two of you coming into the world. you'd tried IVF three times until finally on what you'd both agreed would be the final run you'd fallen pregnant.

it wasn't an easy birth with mason coming out feet first, and a grueling ten hour labour had you demanding any and all drugs they'd give you, snapping your wifes head off anytime her lips curled up in amusement, cursing her out over and over as you'd almost broken her hand squeezing it so hard.

but you'd done it and the moment you both laid eyes on him felt a surge of love different to anything you'd experienced before, and in that moment you and your wife made a silent promise that no matter what you would never let a soul harm so much as a hair on his head.

though mary had always been the more over protective out of the two of you, especially since mason had always been quite soft spoken and sensitive, taking after you in that sense.

he was a perfectly happy child, always with a beaming smile on his face and refusing to let either of you cut his hair meaning it hung down just past his shoulder blades, often tied back into a loose bun to keep it out of his eyes.

but as much as he loved to run around and climb trees, scraping his knees and coming home covered in dirt or leaves, he also found immense joy in letting you paint his nails, or allowing one of his aunties to braid his hair, and you and mary made no move to discourage any of it.

though you did have to step in when he decided he wanted to wear his underwear outside of his clothes to his school one day and you'd made him change. taking the bad cop role that day your heart broke as afterwards he ran crying to mary, the older girl sending you an empathetic smile as she rocked him back and forth.

but his soft and caring nature had meant once he was old enough to talk mary had made sure to constantly affirm and build up his own self confidence, making sure he knew how to stand up for himself despite your fussing that he would be fine, your wife forever worried he would be picked on for being that little bit different.

the goal keeper was a nervous wreck his first day of school, overthinking every little possibility that something would happen. you did everything in your power to try and assure her that though he took after you he was still her son, and had her same hard headed determination to any task he set his mind to.

to your collective relief even if more shy in nature, school brought him further out of his shell, turning him into quite the little social butterfly, you and mary needing to get him his own calendar for the fridge to keep track of the multitude of birthday parties, play dates and outings he was invited on.

"come on mase!" you called out, shaking your head with a smile as he struggled to choose which flowers to pick, the boy glancing over to you and sending a thumbs up, quickly pulling out a small handful. you laughed as he also grabbed a fistful of weeds, tucking them in with his little bouquet and racing back over to you.

"i couldn't choose what ones, didn't want to hurt the other flowers feelings." he huffed as you smiled, opening the gate as he ran past you and up the driveway. "careful please!" you warned as he took the front steps two at a time, your breath catching as he stumbled but fixed his footing, waiting for you patiently by the front door.

"bang your shoes please babe." you nodded as he stomped his feet, shaking off the excess dirt and you unlocked the door. you took the flowers from him and hung his bag up as he sat down on the floor and pulled his shoes off.

mary's car not yet in the driveway you knew she wasn't home, much to masons disappointment as he ran a lap of the house calling out for her until you reminded on tuesdays and thursdays she arrived home after he did, the boy nodding with a sigh.

knowing the way to his heart was the same as your wife you proposed some food, tilting his head back and kissing his forehead as he sat at the table and you placed a colouring book in front of him.

placing his flowers in a cup of water you busied yourself making him a sandwich, waiting patiently as he ticked over and over trying to decide what he wanted. "half and half? mama can have the same when she gets home." you offered as he nodded happily, attention dropping back down to his colouring.

making two sandwiches, one ham and cheese and the other with turkey you cut them in half, placing two halves aside for your wife. "bbq or prawn cocktail?" you asked holding up two packets of crisps, your son pointing to those in your left hand.

placing a handful onto his plate alongside some cut up strawberries you put everything away, mason asking if he could watch some tv as you nodded, helping him down and following after him. setting his plate down on the coffee table you clicked onto his favourite show and left him to it.

you glanced to the time with a slight frown, mary normally home no later than four. with a shrug you helped yourself to the sandwich you'd made her, placing away everything you'd used as you heard her keys in the front door.

"only me!" she yelled out letting herself in, a thump telling you she'd dropped her kit bag by the door making you roll your eyes at the small habit you were constantly telling her off for. "in here!" you called back, mason's head shooting up as he hurried to his feet.

"you're home!" he launched at mary the moment she rounded the corner, the tall girl grunting as his body rammed into her legs and she stumbled for a moment before catching her balance. "hello handsome, i missed ya!" mary grinned, pulling him up into her arms and kissing all over his face as he whined and tried to push her off.

"yeah she's gross isn't she mase." you teased sticking your tongue out making him giggle as your wife let him down and he raced back off to finish his show. "forever the charmer aren't you darling." mary rolled her eyes playfully, moving to press your body against the fridge, just out of sight of your son.

"stuck with me now." you grinned holding up your wedding ring as your wife pulled you into a kiss, mumbling that was exactly how she wanted it. "you're home late?" you questioned as she let you go, pecking your lips a few more times and pushing off of you.

"had to drop tooney home her car shit itself again!" mary rolled her eyes as you smacked her shoulder and nodded to the five year old within earshot. "sorry gorgeous." the girl smiled guiltily, you forever warning her about her language in front of mason, who was in the phase of repeating everything and anything.

you'd both found that out the hard way the other morning.

"good morning beautiful." your wife had sauntered into the kitchen, playfully smacking your bum as she breezed past you toward the coffee machine. "watch it earps." you'd warned playfully, flipping over the pancakes as she stuck her tongue out at you.

"good girl mumma!" your head snapped down toward your son who now stood beside you, looking up at you with his disheveled bed hair and a smile, hugging your leg.

"what did you just say love?" mary frowned as he climbed up to sit at the table across from her. "good girl! mummas a good girl." he repeated making your eyes widen as they locked with marys, which only twinkled with slight amusement.

"why do you say that mase?" mary asked, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to de-tangle it. "you said it mama, heard you this morning when you and mumma were wrestling." he chirped, busying himself playing with one of his toy cars, driving it along the table and making noises with his mouth as you choked on air in surprise at his words.

"i'm going to kill you." you mouthed seriously toward the smirking older girl, who'd been insistent your son wasn't awake when she'd had her way with you this morning, far too eager to get up and lock the door despite your worries.

dumping masons pancakes onto a plate you moved to place them in front of him once you'd cut them up, gently removing the toy car from his hand and giving him a fork.

"thanks sexy!" the boy grinned, repeating marys exact words she'd just spoke as you handed her her coffee a few seconds prior. "mase no, thats an adult word okay? you do not say whatever mama says." you'd warned sternly as he'd only shrugged, too busy devouring his pancakes.

safe to say you and mary hadn't wrestled for quite a while after that, much to her utter displeasure.

"oh thank you." you smiled as your son ran into the kitchen and handed you his now empty plate which you stacked in the dishwasher. "mama! those are for you, i picked them." he beamed pointing to the daises on the counter, marys entire face melting.

"oh mase, baby they're beautiful. thank you!" mary grinned, affectionately touching the flowers before bending down to wrap him in a tight hug. "tell mama about your day mase!" you nodded encouragingly as mary picked him up and sat him up on the counter.

he gestured his hands around wildly as he spoke making you smile as you watched on, mary over-acting her facial expressions to make sure he knew she was just as engaged in his story telling, taking a quick photo with your phone and tucking it back your pocket.

you stepped out of the room for a moment, retreating to your bedroom and changing, taking off your bra and sighing in relief as you swapped from jeans into a pair of joggers, tugging one of your wifes england hoodies on over the top.

though as you returned to the kitchen it seemed your timing was somewhat perfect to hear the one sentence you never thought you'd hear uttered in the earps household.

"and i was striker! and i'm gonna be striker on wednesday for sports day." mason beamed as you stopped in your tracks, watching marys face fall for a moment before she slapped a fake smile on, nodding through the pain in her eyes.

"hey mase? can you go and tidy up your toys on the floor of your room please." you called out, your son nodding as mary helped him down, slumping against the counter as he disappeared and you checked he was out of earshot.

"oh my love." you held back the urge to smile, opening your arms as the taller girl collapsed into them, chin resting on your shoulder as she let out a deep and troubled sigh. "a fucking striker. my own son!"

"mary." you warned, rubbing her back and feeling her huff. "there is goal keeping trophies, gears, posters, all around this house! and now he wants to be a fucking striker." mary unwrapped herself from you, pulling herself to sit up on the counter with a scowl.

"at least he wants to play?" you tried, moving to stand between her legs with your hands resting on her knees. "i'd rather he not play than be a bloody striker! no son of mine isn't going to follow in his mothers footsteps." mary shook her head firmly, a smile curling onto your lips.

"baby you can't force him to be a goal keeper." you laughed as she only scoffed. "i can and i will! just you watch." mary challenged, pushing you away with her foot and jumping down, calling out for mason.

"mary alexandra earps, you leave him be." you warned, your wife waving you off as your son appeared. "shall we go to the park and kick a football?" mary offered, mason nodding happily before he ran off to grab his shoes at her request.

"you are unbelievable."

you sat on a picnic blanket watching on with your arms crossed as your wife tried any and every way she could to sway masons mind.

"isn't this more fun?" mary cheered as she softly kicked the ball toward mason, makeshift goal set up using a few sticks to mark the posts as he shook his head, refusing to even move and try to stop it as it rolled past him.

"i wanna kick it!" he huffed, stamping his feet and flaring his nostrils, alerting you he was dangerously close to a meltdown. "mary!" you called out, raising your eyebrows as she waved you off.

"you do kick it! but only if you stop it, like i showed you before. try again!" she raced over to grab the ball, pausing to re-tie masons hair which had slipped out of the loose bun it was tied back into given the amount of times he'd furiously shaken his head at her.

you sighed with a shake of your own head, flopping down onto your back and closing your eyes, the warm rays of an impending sunset bathing your face. "yeah! like that." mary cheered as mason stopped the ball, but not before he kicked it hard as he could in the other direction and raced over toward you.

you grunted as he landed on top of you, tucking his head into your neck. "mama won't let me kick." he mumbled as you moved a hand to rub his back, sitting up and shooting your wife a stern look as she huffed and kicked at the ground like a scolded child.

"okay, sit up for me please mase." you gently pulled him away from you, setting him down to sit in your lap as he looked up at you with a frown. "don't do that, if the wind changes your face gets stuck like that forever!" you teased, smoothing out his eyebrows with your thumbs.

"can you do something for me?" he nodded at your words and you glanced over his shoulder to see mary lost in thought, staring away into the distance with a troubled look on her face. "you know how we go and watch mama play football yeah? in the big stadiums." he nodded again.

"well mama is a goal keeper. so strikers are like her bad guy, like how all superheros have a villian." you started. "like batman and riddler?" you now nodded at your sons words.

"but only when she's playing! its like pretend, all a big game. like when aunty lessi kicks the ball at mama and tries to get it in the goal? mama and aunty lessi are still best friends after the game right?" he nodded again.

"so why don't you ask mama if she'll take turns with you? you be the striker and then it's her turn, but you can't let her score when she's striker! otherwise the bad guys win." you smirked, tickling at his sides as he giggled but nodded, jumping off and running back toward mary.

you watched on as mary squatted down beside your son, holding his hands as the boy did his best to recount what you'd just told him, the smile returning to her face as she nodded happily at his words.

you knew this was only the start of a very long battle, knowing your wife well enough that this was only a band aid solution to the inevitability she would do anything in her power to have mason earps be the next big goal keeping name.

you laid back down in the sun grabbing your wifes sunglasses where they sat on the ground and slipping them on, the sounds of your families laughter causing a soft smile to curl onto your lips.

however your lack of watching had meant you'd missed mary call over your son and whisper something in his ear, the two of them growing bored of football and advancing toward you. "get her!" your eyes shot open at that as you pushed the sunglasses up onto your head just in time to see mason jump on top of you, mary following suit.

"no! no no no please." you begged as both your wife and sons fingers jabbed into your sides, your body thrashing as mary held you down with a grin, your laughter filling the air as masons own little giggles joined in.

"manchester is saved mase, bad guy defeated!" mary high fived the blonde as the two of them finally ceased their attack, mason running off to kick the ball as you struggled to catch your breath.

"never gets old." mary grinned cheekily, hovering over you and sweetly pecking your lips a few times as you shook your head and flipped her off, still trying to recover.

"just you wait till i call less and let her know her godsons choosing to follow in her footsteps instead of his own mothers!" you teased once you could speak again. "don't you dare." mary warned as she sat beside you, a beat of silence falling between you before you grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet.

"traitor! get her mason!" mary yelled after you as your son dropped the football in his hands and chased after you with a grin, mary quickly packing everything up into a bag.

"mama!" she glanced up as mason gestured toward you as you darted past her, mary easily grabbing you by the waist and tossing you over her shoulder.

"mary!" you laughed, smacking her back as she slung the bag over her free shoulder, taking masons hand as you shook your head, accepting the fact you were being carried home.

"manchester is saved once again!"

#mary earps x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #mary earps #woso

631 notes · View notes

shakespeareanwannabe · 3 months ago

Text

As You Wish, Chapter 19

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, crying, discussions of therapy, sadness, reference to divorce, references to labour and delivery (not explicit but detailed), references to babies, swearing, references to the hospital, self-doubt and self-loathing

A/N: Surprise! I somehow got this chapter done in just a week, and it just so happens to be the last one! If the winds are with me, the epilogue should be out next Friday. But I just want to take a second and thank everyone who is read, commented, reblogged, liked. It means everything to me to get to play in this sandbox, and I really appreciate all the love!

Sharp Memorial Hospital, almost 12 years ago

“One more big push, honey. One more and then you can have a little rest!” The OBGYN urged.

“I can’t! I can’t do this!” Buttercup sobbed, head falling forward as she panted. She felt like she’d been at this for days. She hadn’t slept in over 24 hours. Everything hurt. She missed her bed. She missed the little home she lived in with Jake. She missed not being in pain.

“Shhh, Buttercup. It’s okay.” Jake soothed from his seat on a little stool right by her head.

One gesture from him and the room silenced. He’d been her rock through this whole ordeal, never once leaving her side, never complaining about not getting any sleep or how hard the couch was. He rubbed her feet and her back, fed her ice chips, snuck her a little snack because frankly the hospital’s No Eating While in Labour rule was fucking barbaric. He wasn’t about to make his wife starve herself for over a day on the off chance that she would need surgery. Without letting go of her hand, he stood and propped himself on the bed in front of her. She had opted to push on her hands and knees. Perhaps not the most dignified position, but it was the one she felt most comfortable in. Or at least, the position she had felt the most comfortable in. Honestly, she hadn’t known comfort in over 12 hours.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed quietly, squeezing his hand as another contraction rocked her body. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” It wasn’t Jake’s Texan drawl that comforted her now. It was Hangman’s no-nonsense voice that cut through the sleep deprivation and pain. “I know you’re scared, darlin’. I know you’re hurting. I know you want this to be over. You’ve been a fucking rockstar all fucking day and you deserve a break. Now, I’m going to come sit in front of you on the bed, okay?” Jake peeked around at the doctor to make sure it was alright before moving the pillows and sitting against the headboard. “You’re going to put your hands on my shoulders and you’re gonna squeeze so damn tight that you’re going to receive a citation for damaging military property. But you’re going to give us one more big push. Our babies need you right now. Okay?”

Buttercup couldn’t help but nod. Not when she was looking into the beautiful green eyes of the man she loved. She could do this. She could be brave and face the pain, the fear. For him. For their two beautiful babies.

Her next contraction came and went in a flurry of activity. She couldn’t remember the pain or the fear. But she could remember the nurse handing her a squirming baby girl before handing Jake the scissors and letting him cut the cord.

“Baby number 2 is on the way, but you should have a few minutes to cuddle with baby number one before you need to get back to work, mama,” Dr. Friedman smiled at the family of 3 while swapping out her gloves.

“She’s beautiful, darlin’.” Jake pressed a kiss to Buttercup’s sweat-slick forehead. “You still like her name?”

Buttercup nodded, panting heavily as she leaned against him, cradling their daughter between their bodies. “Abigail Juliet Seresin. Want to hold her?”

Jake took the tiny girl in his arms and felt something inside of himself melt. The most perfect little being in the world, and she was half him, half Buttercup. “Hey Abby,” he murmured, hearing a monitor start to beep more rapidly. “I’m your daddy. The total badass that was just holding you is your mama. And your sibling is on their way, I think, so I’m going to pass you off to this lovely nurse to hold you so I can help your mama.”

With one more big push, another flurry of activity, and a sigh of relief, their second daughter entered the world. Jake scooped Buttercup into his arms to help her settle into a more comfortable position before the nurse handed her the second squalling baby. Abby was wrapped in a light pink blanket and deposited in her father’s arms.

“Charlotte…” Buttercup murmured, limbs shaking with exhaustion. “Charlotte Delta Seresin.”

Jake couldn’t help the tear that came to his eye. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

Neither were aware of what the nurses were doing around them, and they didn’t really care. Both were enamoured with their daughters. Their family.

Staring at his three girls, Jake made a vow. A vow that would supersede any he made to the military. He would do whatever it takes to be there for his family. To protect them. He would never, ever stop fighting for them.

London, England, Now

Everything had been packed into her duffle bag. Childcare had been arranged. There had even been a convenient black cab sitting outside of her house. And then…he was there.

“Jake?”

The man in question stood at her front gate, a bouquet of pink roses in one hand and a gym bag in the other. The black cab idling behind him trundled down the street as they stared at each other.

He looked as tired as she felt, and she felt the heavy press of guilt weigh down on her shoulders. She had done that to him. She had left him behind, left Charlie behind, and he had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

One hand lingering on her front gate, he offered a tentative smile. “Hey Buttercup.”

“What…” She swallowed back the emotions suddenly clogging her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it took about ten seconds for me to realize that I didn’t want you to go. I would’ve been here earlier, but organizing childcare, last-minute flights, someone to take over ranch business…” He sighed and shrugged. “It took a bit to get everything settled. But I’m here now because I realized something.” He reached over and opened the latch to her gate, swinging it open to let himself in. In two strides, he was standing at the foot of her stairs.

“What did you realize?” she murmured.

He handed her the flowers, his hand lingering to give hers a tight squeeze. “I realized that I listened to you give all sorts of reasons for why you couldn’t stay, and I gave you reasons why you could. But I never gave you the reasons why I want you to stay.”

She pulled the flowers up to her nose to give herself a moment to compose herself. Never in a million years did she think that he would follow her. Not when she was the one who left. But there he was, standing on her front stoop in London, giving her flowers and wanting to talk to her.

She sniffled. “Let’s go inside.”

Jake nodded gratefully and stepped up to stand at her back as she fumbled with unlocking the door again. “Is Abby home? I’d love to see her but this conversation…I don’t think it can wait.”

She turned her head back to look at him, so handsome in his red flannel and blue jeans. “She’s at a friend’s house. Bob dropped her off before going to work. Where’s Charlie?” Her heart ached, remembering how Charlie had refused to even meet her gaze as they had packed into the airport taxi.

“With Nat and Javy.”

She nodded and let him into the house, dropping her duffle onto the floor and guiding him into the living room. “I’m just going to get some water for these,” she murmured. “Do you want something to drink?”

Jake shook his head, staring around the room as she disappeared into the kitchen. Being in her space felt natural. Almost like he had been there before. The dark teal walls set off the walnut furniture, and he recognized a few of the paintings hanging from the walls, prints that she had mentioned over a decade ago that she loved. Photos of her family lined the mantlepiece. Most were of Buttercup and Abby, but there were some photos of Bob and Natasha as well. The whole space felt homey, lived in, in a way that he hadn’t expected. He could see why she had wanted to come back. This was a home she had built for herself. He’d be hesitant to give it up too, if he had been in her shoes.

A light clearing of the throat turned his attention back to Buttercup, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Do you want to sit?” She gestured to the soft suede couch, and he took a seat on one end, green eyes following her as she settled into an armchair next to him, a small side table in between them. The silence stretched between them as Buttercup picked her fingernails, staring down at her hands. Jake could only watch her, all the words he wanted to say building up in his chest.

“I’m sorry—”

“I wanted to tell you—”

Their words mixed together in a jumble until they stopped and grinned at each other, embarrassment painting their features.

“Do…do you want to go first?” Jake offered, noting the almost desperate look in her eyes.

She nodded; eyes fixed on her fingernails. “I’m sorry. I never…I mean, it wasn’t supposed to. Jake, what I’m trying to say is…” She nearly growled in frustration. “I was going to type up everything I wanted to say to you on the flight and memorize it so that this wouldn’t happen.”

“Flight? You were coming to see me?” He could feel the hope blossoming in his chest, and he fought to push it down, smother it so as to not scare her off.

“I…” she blushed. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you. How I left…it wasn’t fair. To you or Charlie or Abby. I wanted to clear the air…maybe, try to fix things. If you wanted to.”

A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to.”

Her responding smile was a weak, nervous thing, and he reached out his hand to grasp hers. “I’m sorry, too.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he squeezed her hand, silently urging her to let him speak. “I probably shouldn’t have taken you to bed that night. Not because I didn’t want to. God, I wanted to. I’d basically been white knuckling it since I dove into that hotel pool after you, and when you told me to kiss you, I kinda lost my grip.”

“You lost your grip?” Her voice was incredulous, and he grinned in response.

“You’ve always been able to knock me off my game, Buttercup. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” He smiled at her, squeezing her hand as she blushed. “But I should’ve known what that would do to you, to us. Especially since we didn’t get a chance to talk about it and what it meant.”

She nodded, tilting her head to look at him. “What…what did it mean?”

He huffed a sigh, leaning his head back against the suede sofa. “Jesus, Buttercup…it meant everything to me. Holding you again, feeling you again…” He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “It felt like things were finally back to normal. I woke up with you in my arms again after almost 12 years. I got to kiss your cheek that morning as I snuck out of bed to make our family breakfast. I got to hang out with both my daughters. We were planning a full day of fun family activities, and it felt so fucking domestic that the Jake from 15 years ago probably would’ve punched me in the dick for being so soft.” He grinned at the soft rasp of her chuckle. “And yeah, I was pretty pissed off when you told me you were leaving. I saw my daughter hurting and I was hurting, and I lashed out at you.”

“I deserved it.”

He was already shaking his head before she could get the words out. “Not like that, you didn’t. I basically told you the same shit I did 12 years ago when you told me you wanted to take the job out here. I didn’t listen to you. And looking at this place, who can blame you for wanting to come back?” He looked around again, wishing the walls could talk. Wishing they would tell him stories of the 12 years he missed out on because he was such a stubborn prick. “You built a life for yourself and Abby out here. You should be proud.”

“And you should hate me.” Her words, gasped out through a sob, brought his attention back to her like a shot. “I abandoned you again. I couldn’t keep my shit together long enough to have a real, adult conversation with you because I was so fucking scared that, if I did, I would stay. We would stay and things would be so fucking good between us, because they were also so fucking good between us, and then the other shoe would drop and I would end up hurt again, except this time Abby would choose you because I’m the monster who keeps fucking up, so I would end up all alone, and I’ve worked so hard to be okay with being alone but I don’t think I would be able to recover from being with you again.” Hot tears streaked down her cheeks, her breaths coming out in heavy pants as she tried to catch her breath. “And I was so damn scared of being vulnerable with you, but it was so damn easy to fall back in step beside you. The dinner, and the football game, and the party, and all these little moments where I found myself slipping, found myself having to remind myself that we weren’t married anymore, and it was scary.” She mopped at her eyes with the sleeves of her oversized sweater and sniffled. “I like who I am better when I’m with you. The scary things aren’t so scary when you’re by my side.” Her admission was so quiet that he had to lean in to hear her. “But needing you like that? I knew it would only hurt me more if I let myself need you again and lost you anyway.”

“You’re not going to lose me again,” he murmured, thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

“You don’t know that.”

“What I know…” He tugged her hand so that she turned to face him. “What I know is that I’m going to fight for you, fight to keep you in my life again. Because I like who I am better when I’m with you too. I’m less of a condescending prick when you’re around. I don’t take stupid, unnecessary risks when I know that I’ve got you to go home to. I don’t…” He cleared his throat, ready to admit the one thing he had never spoken aloud to anyone, not even his therapist. “I don’t feel the pull to get back in the air when I know that the best thing in my life is on the ground. I just never realized that until I lost you.” With another tug at her hand, he pulled her onto the couch beside him. “I told you that I gave you all sorts of reasons why you could stay, but I never told you why I wanted you to stay.” He raised a hand to brush the tears from her watery eyes, broad palm cupping her cheek. “I want you to stay because of how warm and happy the house feels when you’re in it. I want you to stay because of how much lighter Charlie is with you in her life. I want you to stay because you make Rooster less of a miserable dick.” Her snort of laughter made him paused, heart warming at the sound. “I want you to stay because my life hasn’t been the same since you walked out of our home that night, divorce papers signed on the kitchen table with your wedding ring on top.” His thumb skimmed across her cheekbone, and he let those words that were burning in his chest escape. “I want you to stay because I love you and I want to give us another chance.”

Buttercup crumpled into his chest, Jake’s arms going around her to hold her close as the words sank in. He felt safe and warm. He felt like home.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Jake only moved to go get Buttercup a glass of water from her kitchen. That had been another peek into her life here. The walls were a light burgundy, cabinets a light grey with silver fixtures and appliances. When he returned, he pressed the glass into her hand before allowing her to curl up into him again, her tears starting to clear.

“How don’t you hate me? I hate me.” Her quiet, ragged voice broke their silence.

“I think maybe that’s the problem,” he murmured, pressing a quiet kiss to her hair. “I never hated you. I tried to, but the more I tried, the less I hated you. It was like…by trying to rationalize hating you, I ended up playing Devil’s advocate for why you left.” He chuckled quietly. “I kept coming to your defence against myself. I guess I just don’t have it in me to hate you. But you…” His firm but gentle hand traced her cheek before tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. “You’ve always been harder on yourself than anyone around you. And I get that. I practically invented that. Part of what made me fall in love with you is that you have the same drive to be perfect, to be the best at everything. That’s what made me the best at Top Gun. That’s what’s made you an award-winning author and a fucking incredible mother. When you got sick, I think maybe you kept blaming yourself for it not being perfect, which only made it worse?”

Buttercup nodded against his fingers on her chin and sighed. “My therapist and I talked about it a lot. I’ve been working on letting go of trying to be perfect, but it’s hard to reconcile with. I did a lot of damage.”

“So did I,” Jake murmured back. “I was basically a team pariah before you came along and turned me into a half decent human being. And maybe if I had admitted to someone—to Mav or Penny or my grandfather—that we needed help, that we were struggling, then maybe I could’ve gotten us both help before divorce became the only option. But living in Texas, having my grandfather around, it really helped. When I was struggling, he told me that I had to work on forgiving myself for letting us fall apart. It took a long time, longer than it should have.” He chuckled morosely and ran a hand over his hair. “Mav always used to tell us that we couldn’t afford to think in the cockpit. That we had to act on instinct and not get caught up in our mistakes. Letting you go, getting divorced? Those are the mistakes that I could never move past. Maybe because I knew I needed to fix them? I don’t know. But I was finally able to forgive myself for the part that I played. And this isn’t going to work if you don’t do the same.”

Fresh tears spilled over Buttercup’s cheeks. “But what if we do try again and it doesn’t work?”

“What if it does work?” He tugged her close and brushed away her tears. “What if it does work and it ends up being incredible?” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, reveling in the way she melted against him at the simple touch. “Don’t you think it’s worth it to try?”

Lips trembling, Buttercup met Jake’s green gaze. “You’re worth it,” she whispered through her tears. “You always have been. I just don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t.” Jake’s soft, Texan drawl brooked no argument. “We’ve worked through our crap. We know what to look out for. We know how to communicate better than we did before. And we’ve got a whole team behind us who want us to succeed.” He smiled down at her, so soft and full of love that the last of Buttercup’s defences melted away. “I love you, Buttercup. I always have and I always will. I know we’ve got a ton of logistical bullshit to figure out, like where to live and—”

“Actually—” Buttercup cut him off with a small, sheepish grin. “I might have talked to my company before you got here.”

Jake went impossibly still. “You did?”

She shrugged shyly. “Bob made a good point. I’m the one with the awards, I’m the one with my name on the covers of the books. I should be the one in charge. So…I pointed that out to them. And after a few ultimatums and making one of the lawyers cry, we were able to come to an agreement.” The hope in Jake’s eyes made her chest ache. She reached out and trailed a soft hand over his cheek. “I might have to keep some strange hours, and I need to come back for in-person meetings once a quarter, but otherwise…they’re alright with me working from home. In Texas.”

Jake’s responding whoop of excitement had her covering her ears for all of a second before he scooped her off the couch and spun her around.

“Whoa, whoa, easy cowboy!” Buttercup laughed, hands on his broad chest to steady herself.

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” Jake breathed; face so close to hers that his breath fanned over her.

“I…I want to try again.” Buttercup teared up as she said the words, but she knew them to be true. The truest words she had ever spoken. “I love you, Jake Seresin. I don’t think I ever stopped. And I want to move to Texas to try this again with you.”

Jake’s smile was more brilliant than the Sun. “As you wish, Buttercup.”

Buttercup launched herself into his arms, the arms that had held her and kept her safe for so long, as she heard a key jangle in the door.

“Mum?”

“Abby, darling, I told you. Your mother has gone on a little trip. She will be back soon.” Genevieve’s lilting voice held no admonishment, only reminder.

“We’re in here,” Buttercup called through a laugh, head buried in Jake’s chest.

“Mum?” She could hear Abby coming closer. “Did you miss your flight? Where were you go—DAD!” Not willing to let go of his Buttercup, Jake extended an arm and wrapped Abby up into their embrace. “What are you doing here? Where’s Charlie? What’s going on? Mum, why are you crying?”

Buttercup gently soothed her through her tears, a bright smile on her face. “Shh, babe. It’s alright. I was going to go back to Texas to talk things through with your father, but he beat me here. And…” She smiled brightly at Jake. “I think we came to a solution that will make everyone happy.”

“Oh, that is wonderful news!” Genevieve cooed from her place in the doorway.

Jake turned to smile at her and stilled. “Buttercup?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is a French supermodel standing in your living room?”

The three ladies laughed at Jake’s astonished face. “You must be Jake Seresin. I have heard so much about you from Robert.” Genevieve extended one perfectly manicured hand out and he shook it dazedly.

“Robert?”

“Did I hear my name?” Bob’s voice called from the front door. A few steps brought him to the living room, where he wrapped an arm around Genevieve’s shoulders. “Hi sweetheart.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and Jake’s mouth dropped even further.

“Bonjour, mon amour.”

Jake tilted his head to whisper in Buttercup’s ear. “Your brother is dating a French supermodel?”

Before she could do more than giggle, Buttercup heard her front door open again.

“You know, y’all should really change the locks after someone moves out.” Natasha’s voice boomed through the house. “I know it’s only been like two days but c’mon.”

Buttercup’s head whipped towards Jake. “I thought you said Charlie was with Nat and Javy?”

He grinned, so cocky and self-assured. “I did. I just never said where Charlie, Nat and Javy were.” He pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “You didn’t think that I would fly across an ocean to visit my wife and leave our daughter home alone, did you?”

Buttercup flushed because, well, that’s exactly what she had been planning to do.

“We’re in here!” Abby shouted, practically vibrating with excitement.

Charlie bounded around the corner and, without hesitation, launched herself at her mother. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye!”

Gasping for breath, Buttercup wrapped her arms around her daughter and squeezed. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m the one who is so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I was scared.”

Charlie nuzzled into her mother’s chest. “Scared?”

“Yeah, honey.” Buttercup reached out an arm and pulled Abby close too. “But I’m not anymore. Your dad and I talked, and he helped me realize that I can’t let my fears rule my life. It’s not fair to anyone.”

“And what does that mean?” Bob asked, one hand resting on Genevieve’s back. He reached over to hug Natasha close as she came further into the house, Javy in tow.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that myself.” Nat cocked an eyebrow at her.

“It means…” She smiled over at Jake, who couldn’t help himself. He pressed a slow, sweet kiss to her lips, feeling everything in his life click into place, like the puzzle that was his life was finally complete. “It means that we’re going home. We have a lot of work to do, and it might not be perfect, but it’s worth it. We are worth it.”

Tags List: @jessicab1991

@waltermis

@buckysteveloki-me

@allepaula

@yuckosworld

@bradshawssugarbaby

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld

@kim-stark

@high-speed-r

@starsrfun

@tomanyfandomstrash

@averyhotchner

@the-blueatlas

@dashes-dizzydisaster

@a-girl-who-loves-disney

@boiolay

@djs8891

@tgmreader

@kmc1989

@landpiranha-blog

@sydthekid1518

@lynnevanss

@mackenzieblair

@minejungwoo

@starset21

@lewglengirly

@dempy

@lovemarvelousfics

@starkleila

@magical-spit

@whatislovevavy

@simplyreading96

@vivalas-vega

@itsdesiree86

@inky-sun

@books-are-escapes

@abaker74

@devil-angel-winchester

@mrs-perfectly-fine

@inthestars-underthesun

@smoothdogsgirl

@rintheemolion

#glen powell #jake seresin x reader #as you wish fic #jake seresin #top gun maverick #parent trap au #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman fic #hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm #top gun maverick fanfiction

145 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 3 months ago

Text

Thomas Sean Connery was born in the Fountainbridge area of Edinburgh on 25th August, 1930.

Big Tam, as he was affectionately known around Fountainbridge in his youth, well he was Tommy until his teens, when he shot up in height and stature, at one point he entered a bodybuilding contest, he was 6'2″ at the time, weighed around 14 stone, had a 48-inch chest, 25-inch thigh, and his arms were 15.25 inches.

His first job was as a milkman with the St Cuthbert’s Co-Operative Society in Edinburgh. I would think he would have delivered the milk on a horse drawn carriage, the stables for these horses was in the are he grew up, were in Grove Street, where I used to live the main offices for St Cuthbert’s still stands round the corner on Fountainbridge.

Connery also played football at junior level for Bonnyrigg Rose, my cousin played for them too for several years.

A few more facts about Sean are he has a tattoo on his arm that state “Scotland Forever” he got when he enrolled in the Merchant Navy, he was discharged from that job due to stomach ulcers, between jobs he was a nude model for art students at Edinburgh College of art, again not to far from Fountainbridge. Other jobs he took up were, a lorry driver, a lifeguard at Portobello swimming baths,a labourer and a coffin polisher!

I think it is interesting Connery never strayed far from Fountainbridge in his younger days, indeed when he decided that acting was a career he was going to pursue, it was the nearby Kings Theatre he got a job helping backstage, he was also competing in bodybuilding competitions at this time and while at an event in London he learned that there were auditions being held for South Pacific, he was picked to appear on the chorus line but as the production toured the country he was making his way up the ladder.

By the time it hit Edinburgh he had the part of Marine Cpl Hamilton Steeves and was understudying two of the juvenile leads, and his salary was raised from £12 to £14–10s a week, when the production was reprised the following year he had the lead role on the tour, taking over from the actor Larry Hagman, who played the part in London’s West End.

Connery never looked back from there and of course the role of James Bond catapulted him to international stardom, Ian Fleming though was against him getting the part initially, he said Sean was “unrefined” and not what he had in mind, Sean soon won him over though and Fleming later admitted he was an “ideal” Bond.

A few of the parts Sean either didn’t get or turned down are Gandalf, in the Lord of the Rings series of films, he said he never understood the books and also wasn’t keen on 18 months of filming in New Zealand. He also turned down the chance to play the role of the Architect in The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Sean was asked to portray King Edward I in Braveheart, but was too busy working on Another film at the time, Patrick McGoohan took the role instead, I’m sort of glad he never played Longshanks.

His 93rd and last film was 2003’s The League of Extraordinary Gentleman - although he officially retired in 2006, although he was temporarily tempted back to do the voice of Sir Billi in the animated adventure comedy of the same name.

Sir Sean Connery passed away in his sleep on 31st October 2020 at his home in the Bahamas, his son said he had been unwell for some time. The official cause of death was pneumonia, heart failure and old age, his death certificate revealed.

In a career spanning over 50 years, Connery earned an Academy Award, multiple Golden Globes, including the Cecil B. DeMille and Henrietta Awards, as well as two British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA) awards.

I've posted more pics than I normally would, firstly to show that Sean was much more than the first Bond, but also because the Scottish public, had and still have a big connection and love for the big guy.

Sean Connery 25th August 1930 – 31st October 2020.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #actor

92 notes · View notes

hoedamn-eron · 8 months ago

Text

shut up, kid

You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman.

Warnings: Nathan is honestly the only warning you need. I suppose some hints of breastfeeding too (a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast). Actually proofread for once, but probably still mistakes that I missed. Word count: 750 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was written VERY last minute (by last minute, I mean at 9:30pm on Mother's Day in the UK 😂). Anyway, happy Mother’s Day to all the parents out there! 😊 I’ve recently been very broody and very Nathan oriented, so I created this mostly self-indulgent fic (loosely based on this post from a few weeks ago).

I struggle to write Nathan, I feel like I can't get his personalty, or his demeanour right, so please let me know if I can improve anywhere! I want to write more Nathan!

It was the sound of a loud, high-pitched, excited squeal, that woke you up.

“Hey,” came the voice of your boyfriend, sounding distant and muffled as the sweet caress of sleep called back to you. “I know we came to wake up your mom, but that’s not the way to do it. You want to deal with the dragon before she’s had her morning coffee? No? I fuckin’ thought not. Shut up, kid.”

“You shouldn’t swear at your son,” you muttered into your pillow, knowing now that sleep was just a distant memory.

“Ah, shit.”

You grin into the pillow before you look up, your eyes blurrily settling on your boyfriend, who had a mug of coffee in his left hand (in your favourite mug – one you got from a Blue Book convention back when you were in college, long before you met Nathan...Nathan hated it), and his other hand was occupied supporting your seven-month-old son, Silas, who was happily sitting on Nathan’s hip, still in his footsie pyjamas, chewing on his pointer finger. It was sickening how you carried the kid for nine months, and going through a 36-hour labour, sacrificing your body and your boobs (your nipples will never be the same again), for him to look exactly like Nathan.

You still love the bones off him anyway.

“Kid doesn’t know what I’m saying, it’s fine,” Nathan continues, coming over to you and holding out the mug. You take it, smiling up at Nathan as he leans down to you and presses a kiss against your lips, murmuring a ‘good morning’ to you before he straightens up.

He’s so hot. Even now, he’s just wearing some old sweatpants and a t-shirt (it even has a stain of old baby throw up, which you just couldn’t get out), but it’s the way he’s holding your son...it does things to you.

“Good morning,” you greeted back, taking a sip of your coffee. You nod at Silas as he continued to chew on his finger. “Lost another pacifier?”

“I don’t know what he does with them,” Nathan said, shaking his head, gesturing with now free his hand around the room. “Spend all my fuckin’ spare time trying to find that blue one that he refuses to nap without.”

“Language,” you tell him, take a sip of your coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, almost on autopilot. “I’ll request more for the chopper next week. Think 50 will be enough? Obviously fuckin’ not, he’ll lose them all within a week.”

You laugh as you shake your head at him before looking at Silas. “Is your dada silly?” you ask him in your most annoying baby voice.

The kid loves it. He smiles widely at you and kicks his legs in excitement.

“Anyway,” Nathan says, adjusting Silas in his grip as he looked back at you, evidently choosing to ignore your comment to your son. “Happy Mother’s Day, or whatever. I made you breakfast, your favourite. The kid had some, he loved it, so now we’ll probably have to make it for him every day. I’ll run you a bath and by the time you’re finished it should be ready. While you’re being a lazy ass in the tub and skirting your duties as a mother - “

You go to swat Nathan on the thigh, but he dodges you swiftly and carries on like he was never interrupted.

“Me and this one,” he nods to Silas. “Will work on some tummy time, see if we can start crawling today.”

“Not all kids start crawling at seven months.”

“Not all kids are mine.”

“Debatable, regarding all the sex you were having before we met.”

“You’re reaping all the benefits from ‘all that sex’.”

“You pig.”

“You love me.”

You do. God, you do. So much. But you’re not going to tell him that.

You take a gulp of your coffee, hiding your smile.

“Get your pretty ass out of bed,” Nathan said, already turning away from you, grabbing Silas around the tummy and tossing him lightly in the air and catching him, causing Silas to laugh that cute baby giggle he has that melts your heart. “Come and celebrate your first Mother’s Day.”

He leaves the room, and you laugh to yourself as you distinctly hear the sound of Nathan giving Silas a raspberry on his belly as he walks down the corridor, the squealing sound of laughter from your son following right after.

It sends a warm feeling of joy and happiness through you.

#nathan x reader #nathan bateman #nathan Bateman x reader #dad!nathan Bateman #nathan Bateman x f!reader #ex machina #oscar isaac #dad!nathan bateman x mom!reader

267 notes · View notes

megalony · 1 year ago

Text

Break Ins and Births

This is my first James Wilson imagine from House MD, any other House requests would be amazing. Any feedback would also be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: (Based on a request) House let's himself into Wilson's home, not knowing his wife is in. The shock sends (Y/n) into early labour.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something akin to a smile drifted onto House's face when he heard the successful click of the lock and when he jingled the door handle, it opened with ease.

He needed to get a key. Wilson had a key to his apartment for emergencies and mainly since he had stayed over a lot and never handed back the key. But House didn't have one to Wilson's house and that didn't seem fair. He couldn't come and check by on Wilson when he needed something or when he thought something was amiss. Instead, he had to resort to picking the lock when knocking wasn't sufficient enough and House was desperate.

"Wilson?" He shut the door behind him before he hobbled into the living room, looking round for his friend. He said he had this week off work from the hospital and House was getting desperate enough to visit him here at home for help.

His vicodin had run out.

If he didn't get another prescription supply soon, he would start to go into detox and it was not pretty. The amount of times he had detoxed over the years was unbelievable and House wasn't ready to go through that again and feel the imminent pain he would suffer.

He knew Wilson would give him something, he might give him something different than vicodin and a little less strong, but House needed something, anything to get him through the day.

He moved a few of the magazines from the coffee table, scattering them around to see if Wilson's prescription pad was hanging around here somewhere. No such luck, but then again, House wouldn't expect him to just leave it lying around here.

It would be up in his study.

"Wilson…" He called out again whilst peeking into the kitchen before he sighed and moved towards the stairs.

Why did Wilson's study have to be upstairs? Why did he have to have a house and not an apartment like House? Something on the ground floor that was easily accessible would be preferable to this.

It took a while and a lot of pain and effort for House to amble his way up the stairs, despite the searing agony it caused to bolt through his right leg. The pain would be worth it if he could get another dose of vicodin.

Which room was the study? House couldn't recall the last time he'd been upstairs in Wilson's house, it would only have been to use the toilet. Most of their hang outs apart from the hospital and the odd road trip was at House's apartment, not Wilson's house. The last time he was here probably would have been when Wilson invited him round after he and (Y/n) bought the house and newly moved in.

Taking a wild guess, House hobbled over to the second door on the right because he was sure the bathroom was the door on the left next to the stairs.

The door swung open with more force than House could comprehend, so much so that he stumbled forward into the room just as a scream hit his ears and a figure appeared in front of him.

Screaming, (Y/n) stumbled backwards when the door flung open at her just as she went to open it, causing her to fall back into the bedroom.

Oh God, someone was in the house. Someone had broken in, she had woken up at the wrong time. They were going to attack her and raid the house. What was she supposed to do?

Her hand held steadfast onto the door handle and it allowed her to ease herself down to the floor, landing with a thump on her bum. But when her wild eyes darted to look up ahead of her, another scream rattled through her chest and sent her reeling when something waved in front of her face.

He was going to hit her with a bat!

"What are you doing, you should be at work!"

Fire, rage and blind panic mingled together in (Y/n)'s blood as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away from her eyes and focus on the figure looming over her. It was House, cane in hand and a bewildered look in his deep blue eyes as if he was the one who had just walked in on a burgalry.

"House!" Letting go of the door, (Y/n) slammd her fist into the wood and bashed the door away until it flung back and hit the wall.

With her fingers tangled in her hair, (Y/n) bowed her head down and tried to breathe but each breath was high and shallow.

What the Hell was he doing in her home? How on Earth did he get in? She was sure her husband would have locked the door behind him this morning when he left. And if not, why didn't House have the manners to knock? He couldn't just walk into her home whenever it suited him and expect her to be out or perfectly fine with him wandering in and doing whatever he pleased.

"Why are you in my house? H-how did you get in?" (Y/n) choked through her words, still unable to catch a proper breath.

She dared to let her furious gaze fall upon her husband's friend and she was somewhat relieved to see guilt written across his face.

(Y/n) tilted her head back so she could look up at him properly but she moved her hand to rub across her stomach. The baby was doing summersaults from House's surprise visit. It didn't help that she hadn't felt well this morning, which was the reason why she wasn't at work where House clearly thought she should have been when he popped round.

"Looking for Wilson, where is he? And your front door isn't very secure, should probably get that looked at." House leaned into the wall and slouched a little so he could relax his leg and lean his weight onto his cane. If he even tried to sit down on the floor with (Y/n) he doubted either of them would be able to get back up.

"He's on call this week… you can't j-just wander in whenever you like, you prick."

"I need vicodin, where's his prescription pad? You need to take deep breaths or you'll go into shock."

(Y/n) tried to roll her eyes but it only made her head spin and she was starting to feel sick.

"I don't know, he doesn't bring it home every night. And what I don't need, is being frightened when I'm thirty-three weeks pregnant- oh, fuck." Closing her eyes, (Y/n) let her head flop forward and moved both her hands to cradle her stomach.

She didn't need any kind of shock or jump scares right now, not when she was so close to reaching the end of her term. House knew this, he was a dcotor, he was Wilson's best friend. He knew they'd been trying for months to get pregnant and he was the only one at the hospital who knew (Y/n) had a bad miscarriage last year. She didn't need him coming into her home and scaring her half to death thinking an intruder was going to hurt and rob her.

But she knew she couldn't blame him entirely, he didn't mean to scare her. He didn't think she would be here, he was looking for Wilson who was used to his antics and games and Wilson didn't scare easily. Not anymore.

"What?"

"You gave me a cramp."

With a sigh, House pushed off the wall and reached a hand down towards (Y/n), despite the glare she shot his way. He waited patiently, keeping his hand reached out until (Y/n) relented and took it as she moved onto her knees. they both knew he wouldn't be able to pull her up properly, not with his bad leg and having to lean half of his weight onto his cane.

But he didn't grumble or say a word when she pulled tightly on his hand, holding his arm with her free hand so she could manage to get up without pulling House down to the floor with her.

"Come on… I'll make you a cup of tea." It was the least he could do after unintentionally giving her a fright.

When she was steady on her feet, (Y/n) let go of his arm and adjusted her pyjama top before slowly walking out of the bedroom after him. It was a relief he always had to walk slow because right now, (Y/n) felt like her legs were made of jelly and she had the shakes rattling through her.

They were two steps away from the stairs when a horrid cramp tore through her lower stomach and sent her reeling. She reached out to steady herself on the banister so she didn't go crashing to the floor again and her upper half coiled over like a tightening spring until her chest was merged with her stomach.

"House…" His name tore from (Y/n)'s lips in a quiet, frail whisper followed by a guttural cry when they both looked down and a steady stream of water trickled down her legs.

Oh dear.

She could see the way he visibly paled like a fading image standing in front of her and he sighed as his shoulders slumped down, but it was the worry in his dusty blue eyes and the fear creeping onto his face that showed he cared. He could see what was happening and he already knew the worries that were rattling around in (Y/n)'s head when she started to cry.

"Where are your keys, I'll drive you to the hospital. And I'll page Wilson to meet us at reception."

House didn't have a car and he knew there was no way he could get (Y/n) on his motorbike with him to get her to the hospital. It was a small mercy that the hospital was so close to their home so he could use (Y/n)'s car to get her there. It would be better than calling and waiting for an ambulance. And if he paged Wilson he would be sure to get the message rather than try to ring his personal phone and risk it being locked in his office while he was with a patient.

"By the door… House, t-this is too early, I can't-"

"Hey, come on. You're a nurse, this doesn't mean labour, Wilson will have you on bed rest in the maternity ward for a week or more before you have this kid. Let's worry about getting you down those stairs."

He wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s waist, letting her grab his shoulder instead of the banister before they shuffled somewhat awkwardly over to the stairs. This didn't mean (Y/n) was definitely in labour, if she was feeling contractions there were medicines that could stop them and prevent them for days or even weeks. She could be put on observation and bed rest and not have this baby today or tomorrow or for a few weeks. they would find out when they got to the hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wilson leaned his forearms on the reception desk and arched his back out before he glanced his eyes over at the two files he had brought down with him. He had been on his way to go consult with a patient when he got a strange page from House.

Need you at reception now. Bring a wheelchair.

There was too much room for speculation and no room for understanding. What was he supposed to do with that? With House, it could mean anything, it could just be him wanting a consultation or wanting an excuse to get away from Cuddy and clinic duty. It could be an actual emergency or just a one off or House bringing in a new case.

All Wilson knew for sure was that if he ignored the page and went ahead to his consult, he wouldn't hear the end of it. And God forbid it was some kind of emergency, Wilson didn't want it playing on his conscience.

He had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, stood like a lost patient at reception with his pager on the desk, his phone in his pocket and a wheelchair at his side.

Every now and then he glanced at the receptionist and tried to smile but he knew his presence was unnerving her. She had given up asking him if he wanted something or what he was waiting for when he just said House or 'I don't know'.

"James!"

His head snapped to the right and as quick as lightning he pushed himself off the desk and straightened up. He knew that voice anywhere; his wife. He didn't like the urgency in her voice or the hoarse catch in her throat. She sounded like she'd been crying, even just from that one word Wilson could detect the panic in her voice and it set him on edge.

The sight of (Y/n) and House hobbling into reception was something Wilson never thought he'd see in his life and it was something he did not like at all.

(Y/n), his girl, almost falling on her knees with one arm around House's shoulders like a viper and her other arm cradling her stomach. She was wearing her pyjamas that were riddled with sweat and slightly skewed and scrunched up. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail and sticking to her sweat-ridden skin. But it was her expression that broke his heart completely.

She had been crying, a lot. In fact, she was still crying now, gasping for breath between sobs and Wilson knew she was having contractions when one rippled through her and jolted her down to her knees with a pained cry.

"James…" (Y/n) loosened her arm from around House who had been rather patient and understanding considering this wasn't his forte. He had calmed her down in the car, let her cry out when the contractions got worse and he timed them and talked her through it. He was practically carrying her into the hospital from the car despite his cane and limp and he didn't moan or squabble or complain once.

When she was kneeling on the floor, (Y/n) tried to take a deep breath but the moment James was crouched down in front of her, the waterworks got worse. Her arms deadlocked around his neck and she croaked and hiccuped into his shoulder, binding herself to him like glue.

It was comforting beyond relief to have his arms tightly wrapped around her and his lips pressed to the side of her head. She could feel the panic radiating through him and his heartbeat that was going wild.

Whatever House had said on his message, (Y/n) could see it hadn't been nearly as close to the truth as it should have been.

"What's happened?" Leaning back a little, Wilson moved to cup the side of (Y/n)'s face, brushing her hair away and swiping a few tears from her cheek and nose. He could deduce that she was going into labour, he noticed the vast amount of fluids on her shorts and between her legs to guess that her waters had broken. But he didn't know why.

This morning he had been called to come on shift since he had the on call phone and he knew (Y/n) wasn't feeling great when he left. She had a headache and felt under the weather, but other than that he knew she had been fine. Nothing had been wrong enough to suggest she would go into labour while he was away.

"House, what happened- did you call House?" Wilson looked back down at (Y/n) in his arms, trying to get her to talk but all she could do was sniff and try to breathe.

"I stopped by your place, she had a shock so I brought her in."

"Why were you at my house? What does a shock mean?"

Wilson darted his eyes to the side when he heard Cuddy's voice as she hurried from her office, diverting to grab the wheelchair when Wilson pointed over at it. In his rush to get to his wife he didn't scoot it over with him.

"H-he let himself in, I thought h-he was a burglar… it hurts." Moving her head, (Y/n) tucked her face back into Wilson's shoulder as much for comfort as to hide away from prying eyes. She could see a crowd starting to form around them as Cuddy pushed through with the wheelchair and House stayed close but not quite touching any of them.

She could feel Wilson tensing against her and his fingers dug into her sides to try and stop himself from going into a rage.

He could handle House at the best of times, especially when everyone else had had enough of him and his antics, Wilson could cope with him and calm him down and reason with him. But he couldn't reason with him over this. He had let himself into Wilson's house and scared his wife so badly she was now in labour. That wasn't fair.

"Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna get you up on three okay? One, two, three."

Shifting around from his knees onto his feet, Wilson then slipped his arms up until they were hooked under (Y/n)'s arms and he carefully and slowly stood up, pulling (Y/n) along with him. He paid no mind to how deeply her nails were digging into his shoulders through his white coat but he couldn't help but focus on her pained cries that were seeping into his neck and making him shiver. She was trembling so badly in his arms that she could barely stand up until he took all of her weight onto his chest.

He carefully turned on his heels and twisted them around until (Y/n) was level with the wheelchair Cuddy was holding and he lowered her down. The relief was instant on (Y/n)'s face but as soon as she was sat down, her legs coiled up and her arms cocooned around her waist like she was trying to curl up into a ball.

The anger boiled up into rage in Wilson's eyes when he glanced over at House who limped over to them.

"I was looking for you, I needed a pill refill but I thought she'd be at work-"

"So you broke into my house and scared my wife into pre-term labour? Thanks."

"Come on, you think I did this on purpose-"

"I think you didn't consider anything but your addiction, House! You break into my house where my wife has every right to be and shock her and now she's in the hospital. Just… go." His hands balled into fists at his sides and his jaw locked so tightly that his teeth felt like they were going to break.

With a wave of his hand, he turned his back and took a step closer to (Y/n) to end the conversation. He could stand around and argue with House for hours over this but he didn't have that much time. He needed to look after (Y/n) rather than waste his time taking his much deserved anger out on House.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Have you been waiting here this whole time?" Wilson closed the door behind him and leaned his weight onto the door frame. He couldn't quite meet House's eyes when he looked over at him. It was Cuddy who had whispered that House was sitting outside and true to her word, here he was, cane discarded on the floor and tennis ball in hand to keep him occupied in the empty hall.

House took a moment to take in Wilson's state. He was usually always prestine and presentable when he was on shift- which he technically wasn't anymore. Now, he had shed his doctor's coat, unbuttoned his striped shirt, rolled the sleeves up well past his elbows and his hair was dishevelled. He looked the complete opposite of himself.

"How is she?"

"Undoubtedly in labour and almost fully dilated," Rubbing at his forehead, Wilson took a few deep breaths before he looked back over at his friend. "If you wanted vicodin why didn't you just call?"

"Tritter can get my phone records, I just needed a few to get me by and I thought you'd be home. I didn't know she wasn't at work, I wouldn't have gone in if I did."

"Normally I'd do something rash like shout at you or even hit you. But you're desperate and (Y/n) said it wasn't all your fault." He ran his fingers through his hair, too tired to let loose the rage he felt earlier that was slowly disappating now. "Just… try and think, House. This is my family, if she wasn't past thirty weeks we could of lost another baby."

He wasn't in the mood to argue, but he needed House to at least try and see things from his perspective.

He and (Y/n) had wanted a baby for months and then they lost one at five months last year. Wilson didn't know how he managed to pull (Y/n) back after that loss, she barely got through it and now they were in early labour. If (Y/n) hadn't been this far along and labour couldn't be prevented, they would have a big risk of losing the baby. At least being at thirty three weeks, they still had a big advantage.

"You don't have to stay, you know. It's still gonna be a while until you meet your godchild."

"I know,"

With a nod of his head, Wilson turned on his heels and headed back inside where Cuddy was sat at (Y/n)'s side. The dean of medicine was close to both Wilson and (Y/n) and she wanted to be some sort of help and be with them during this. Much like House, who had been named Godfather since the moment they found out about the pregnancy, wasn't ready to go yet.

He knew he didn't have to stay, he could head back to his office or go home since it wasn't his shift today. But he stayed seated outside the delivery room. He wasn't going anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tipping her head back, (Y/n) closed her eyes and tucked her face into the crook of Wilson's neck. Her hand reached up to cup his face when she felt him kissing the top of her head and his arm that was secured around her waist tightened and pulled her into his side.

She could barely breathe and every inch of her skin was flushed and covered in sweat and everything below her waist felt both torn and numb at the same time. She even felt pins and needles in her feet as if they were on fire despite the tingling numbness travelling down her legs.

"L-Lisa, are they alright?" (Y/n)'s voice was cracked and she could barely speak from how hoarse her throat was from sobbing and screaming. Her eyes followed Lisa as she moved from the end of the bed and walked up to their side.

It didn't take long for the dean of medicine to take over and for the midwife to take a step back. (Y/n) was a lot calmer with Lisa being in charge and delivering their baby than a midwife neither of them knew, considering they worked in the same hospital.

"She's perfect,"

Every part of (Y/n) that could shake started to shake violently when a small newborn was nestled into her chest. She was tiny, still curled up in the fetal position and she wasn't crying, only whimpering so quietly it was barely there, but it was music to their ears.

She placed a shaking hand on the newborn's back and kept her other hand brushing across Wilson's face and she could feel the tears he was shedding. His free hand came up to cradle the back of their daughter's head while Cuddy leaned over to clamp and clip the unbilical cord.

"Would you like to weigh her and get her cleaned up?" Cuddy gently paced a towel around the newborn before she looked over at Wilson to give him the honours. After all, he was a doctor and he knew exactly what he was doing, there was no one better to get her washed, weighed and into something warmer than her dad.

She barely fit in the crook of his elbow, that was how small and fragile she was. When her small hand curled around his index finger, Wilson let the tears cascade down his face.

"House?" Leaning out the door, Cuddy finished wiping her hands with a paper towel, smiling softly when she saw that he was still where they had left him in the afternoon. He hadn't budged an inch other than to sneak to the vending machine and back.

He sat up straighter when he took in her expression, but the warm smile glowing on her lips calmed down one of the raging nerves inside of him. Despite what he liked everyone to think, House did care. Not about many people, but Wilson and (Y/n) were part of his family, and he cared about them very much.

"Would you like to meet your Goddaughter?"

#james wilson #imagine #wilson x reader #james wilson x reader #james wilson imagine #wilson imagine #house md #gregory house #lisa cuddy #pregnant! reader

668 notes · View notes

walkingstackofbooks · 1 month ago

Note

If you're taking prompts right now how would you feel about Julian accidentally damaging Kukalaka and somehow Garak finds it and repairs it for Julian.

Sending love <3

HELLO HI IT'S FINALLY HERE :D This fic has been one of the most difficult things I've written yet - believe me when I say I have laboured over this for hours - but it's been a whole lot of fun, too, so thank you for the prompt :D It's immensely satisfying to finally be able to present you with "A Bear Like Me" <3 <3 <3 (Also on AO3!)

His shift was over, but Julian still had one more patient to attend to, back in his quarters. Kukulaka had, at long last, been safely returned to him, but as he had been putting the bear back in his place of pride on the desk, Julian had spotted that some of the stitches in his side had started to fray. Now, he was looking forward to being able to treat his old friend with some long-overdue, tender, loving care.

"I'm home!" he called as he entered his quarters – not just for Kukulaka's benefit. At some point during the last few weeks, his weekly lunch with Garak had turned into dinner (he was marginally less likely to be interrupted at this time), which had then turned into multiple dinners, until it was no longer surprising to return home and find the tailor sitting on his sofa, usually embroidering some creation or other.

"That much is evident, Doctor," Garak replied acerbically, but Julian could recognise the fond twinkle behind the Cardassian's eyes. "Is it really necessary to state the obvious every time you come through that door?"

Julian slung his bag down on the sofa, shooting a grin at Garak. "Necessary? No. Although, now I know how much it irritates you..."

"You are insufferable, Doctor," Garak declared.

"And yet, you're still here, suffering me. At this point, I think you'll find it's your own fault, Mister Garak."

Garak's eyes followed him as he walked across the room to retrieve his small needlework kit. That, too, he placed on the sofa, before going to get Kukulaka.

"Sewing, Doctor?"

"Yes, actually. I noticed someone," he said, giving the bear an affectionate pat on the head, "was looking a little worse for—"

He stopped abruptly. Having now picked up Kukulaka, he could not see the worn-out stitches that he'd noticed yesterday: in fact, he could no longer see any stitches at all. Every trace of Julian's surgeries over the years, from his first, clumsy efforts to his later, more refined sutures had seemingly disappeared overnight, leaving Julian with a strangely hollow pit in the bottom of his stomach.

"Garak," he said, keeping his back to the tailor as he struggled to keep his voice normal. "Did you do this?"

"Indeed I did, my dear Doctor." Julian hated that he could hear the smile in Garak's voice. “I, too, couldn’t help noticing what a state your bear was in, and since it is my area of expertise…”

“That’s— That’s very kind of you,” replied Julian quietly. The awareness that he ought to be sounding more grateful rubbed against his insides like sandpaper, but the heartbeat pounding in his ears was making it difficult to concentrate on keeping his emotions in check.

Garak hadn’t seemed to notice. “I think you’ll find he’s in perfect condition,” he continued. “Better, even. He’ll likely not need stitches again – unless he winds up on some peculiar adventure, I suppose. But your bear is not so foolhardy as you, my dear.”

Garak’s tone was light, but there was no mockery to it; he was speaking about Kukulaka the same way Julian did, and at any other time, Julian would have loved him for it. Right now, all Julian could do was shrug, replying only with a short, “I suppose.”

There was a pause. “I don’t mean to imply that your handiwork was bad,” redirected Garak. “In fact, I was rather impressed, Doctor, at the way you’d kept him together for all these years. He wasn’t the sturdiest fellow.”

“I used to call him my first patient.” The words left Julian unexpectedly, and he immediately wished they hadn’t, because now he could feel the dam beginning to burst and he couldn’t – he couldn’t – let Garak see how stupidly emotional he was getting over this small kindness.

He pivoted around, gripping Kukulaka close as he walked back to the door. “I left something in the infirmary,” he said, still not looking at Garak. “I’ll be right back.”

The door slid open, but suddenly, Garak was in front of him, placing a hand on his wrist.

“You’re upset,” he said simply. “Why?”

Julian was trapped. While he wanted to flinch away from Garak, whose touch was feeling more like a shackle than a comfort, he didn’t want to do anything – anything more – that might trouble his friend. For a few moments, he stood helplessly in place, unable to think of a way to get out of this situation without offending Garak.

“If you were me…” he started softly, then changed his mind – that would be a stupid thing to say. “No, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter,” he finished.

“I think, Doctor, this is perhaps a conversation better had sitting down, don’t you?” asked Garak, placing his other hand on Julian’s back and guiding him towards the sofa with a gentle pressure. “Now, then,” he continued once they were seated, “you should know that I am greatly interested to hear your thoughts. If I were you, then what?”

There had always been something about Garak that had made Julian feel overpowered: the feeling had often been one that Julian had reached out for, been attracted by, his inability to resist Garak leaving him with a certain thrill. Now, that feeling had been turned against him, intensified by how unusually close Garak was sitting to him – shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee; his cold hand still covering Julian’s wrist.

“If you were me,” he mumbled reluctantly, “what lie would you be coming up with?”

“That’s difficult to say,” replied Garak, “when I don’t know what truth it is that my story would have to conceal.”

Julian snorted wetly. “I am grateful, really—” he tried to say again, but Garak cut him off with a sharp tut.

“I’ve seen you tell better lies than that, Doctor,” he said reprovingly. “Clearly, there has been some error on my part here.”

Julian didn’t have the energy to correct him. He let himself lean against the other man, although he didn’t quite dare to rest his head on Garak’s shoulder, lest he scare his friend away.

“I’m not entirely sure I can explain it myself,” he said softly, looking down at Kukulaka and giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Garak, but I simply don’t know where to start. Can we just forget it? Please?”

He flicked his eyes back up to Garak cautiously, not really expecting the interrogation to cease – and was quite taken aback to find that a vicious scowl had spread over the Cardassian’s face.

“Have it your way,” Garak said archly. “I suppose I was invited for dinner, not conversation.” Standing up abruptly, he stalked over to the kitchenette without a second glance back at Julian.

“Garak—”

Julian’s throat closed around the rest of his sentence, his insides shrivelling into ice as he watched Garak silently tap orders into the replicator. He should have left when he’d had the chance. It would have confused Garak, upset him – but now, it seemed, he was mad at Julian, and that was much worse.

You want to fix this? Then stop being so childish and say something, hissed a voice in his head, but Julian could not obey. Even as Garak finished setting food on the table – now pointedly taking a seat at the other end of the sofa – Julian continued to find himself frozen in place. It was absurd, he knew, having some sort of breakdown and ruining their evening over a child’s toy: it wasn’t even as though Kukulaka had been injured in some way, which would at least have been a little understandable. You always did overreact, that familiar voice sneered, and Julian couldn’t deny it – he was broken, defective, damaged…

Just like Kukulaka had been.

But mending a teddy bear was a far easier process than mending a human. No wonder Garak had lost patience with him.

“The food will be getting cold, Doctor,” said Garak, causing Julian to startle, and all at once a thought was dropping from his lips.

“You’ve got scars, haven’t you, Garak?”

Garak hesitated, seeming to withdraw into himself momentarily before responding. “A curious inquiry,” he replied, “since I am sure you know, Doctor, that in the past I have endured medical treatment less... solicitous… than your own. You offered to heal them, once.”

“And you didn’t let me,” Julian murmured softly, his eyes unfocused, far away. He was still mindlessly tracing patterns across Kukulaka’s fur, the bear soft in his hands.

Garak roughly set down his knife and fork, and Julian flinched at the sudden clatter of metal against china.

“I see,” Garak said bitingly, turning to face Julian. “My ‘transgression’ was failing to realise that you would consider that akin to removing the flaws in your toy. Tell me, do you have scars, Doctor? Are reminders of every mistake you made, every failure to fulfil your duty, etched across your skin?”

“I had Kukulaka,” Julian whispered. “Of course I don’t have scars. I was supposed to be perfect, I—My parents—”

He faltered, a harsh chuckle overtaking his speech. “Of course I don’t have scars,” he repeated, hoping that Garak might understand.

Because it was true, despite his barely-coherent explanation. The bear’s many, careful stitches had been, in a way, a monument to what they had been through together: where his skin had remained unblemished, Kukulaka had borne the scars of their childhood for both of them.

He hadn’t realised he had more to say until he’d already started speaking again.

“Did I—did I ever tell you how many dreams I used to have about the hospital?” he asked. “Not after I found out, I mean, but before, when I was seven, eight years old… My parents told me they were just nightmares— I-I thought they were just nightmares. And then…”

Julian’s voice was shaking. He didn’t dare look at Garak.

“And then when they told me it was true, I—well, I thought I remembered it but… But do I? How can I ever know for sure which memories are real and which were made up while I was sleeping? I don’t have scars, Garak, I don’t know what happened to me!”

His voice, which had been rising steadily, suddenly dropped back down to a hoarse whisper. “But Kukulaka did,” he said. “Kukulaka was there, he was real – and—and I know it sounds silly but that’s why he’s never been just a toy, not me. He’s my witness.”

That last statement sounded a touch dramatic, even to his ears, and he had no idea what Garak would make of it all. He sat there, fidgeting, as he waited for his friend to respond.

“Your dinner is getting cold,” Garak said eventually, but more softly this time, and he shuffled along the sofa to sit next to the doctor once more. Julian could recognise an olive branch when he saw one, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’d better get started then,” he replied, although if truth be told, he no longer had much of an appetite. As he set Kukulaka down beside him, he wondered if Garak was going to say anything else, or if they’d be left eating their dinner in this odd silence that had now sprung up between them.

“I must admit, I am curious,” Garak started, several minutes later. Julian looked at him, automatically tensing in anticipation of what he might say. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you had left your bear with Miss Ren, following your separation. Why, when you are so protective of him?”

Julian sighed: of course Garak would ask the difficult questions. “Leeta was delighted by Kukulaka from the moment she met him,” he tried to explain. “And I suppose that meant a lot to me, that she loved my scarred, ugly bear the way she did. So when we broke up…” He trailed off, shrugging.

“It’s hard to describe,” he continued, brows drawing together. “Kukulaka had become important to us both, I guess, during our relationship. And so even if she didn’t love me anymore, the fact that she still loved him… I don’t know. I wanted her to have him. It made sense at the time.” He shrugged again, giving Garak a short, rueful smile. “And of course, that was before my parents came to the station,” he added.

Garak frowned at him studiously. “Ren Leeta accepted the bear as he was; therefore you felt that she accepted you too, for all your faults,” he said slowly. “Meanwhile I… I attempted to fix your friend and remove any defects – and you believe that to be a reflection of how I view you, Doctor. Am I correct in thinking that you see your bear as some sort of—of metaphor for yourself?”

Julian stared at him. It wasn’t how he would have put it – it wouldn’t have occurred to him to phrase his feelings in such a way – but now that Garak had voiced the thought, it was hard to ignore.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he replied quietly. “But yes. Perhaps.”

Shaking his head, he filed the thought away for further examination later, and looked back to Garak. “You’d make quite the psychologist, Mister Garak,” he said, lips twitching into a soft grin.

“Oh, hardly,” said Garak, scoffing just as Julian had known he would. “Other people’s problems are of no interest to me.”

There was a strange swooping sensation in Julian’s chest. “But mine… are?” he asked hesitantly.

Garak hesitated too, before issuing an awkward, stiff reply. “I did not… enjoy seeing you upset,” he admitted. His voice grew quieter. “And I had hoped that I… would not hurt you, again. Clearly, that was one expectation too far.”

Julian was quite unprepared for such raw honesty. His lips fell apart, and he found himself at a loss for how to reply.

Garak pulled himself up straighter, drawing in a breath. “You made a mistake in trusting me with your feelings,” he said curtly, nodding as though confirming something to himself. “Yes. I should leave, before I hurt you any more.”

He stood up, and Julian followed him indignantly, grabbing his hand. “Leave?” he exclaimed. “How could you possibly think that’s what I want, Garak?”

“As I recall, you tried to leave first—”

“And then you forced me to have this entire conversation with you!” responded Julian incredulously. “You’re impossible! First you give me the silent treatment, then you get angry with me, and now just as we’re on the verge of… of something…”

He trailed off, a dark expression creeping into his eyes. “God forbid that you actually share your feelings,” he muttered. “That would be too much like sentiment, wouldn’t it? What was it you said, “sentiment is the greatest weakness of all” – is that it?”

Garak laughed scornfully. “After this evening, Doctor, you’re hardly in a position to lecture me about being open with one’s feelings.”

Julian wondered how they’d ended back in an argument again; in fact, how any of this had turned into an argument at all. Was Garak really so emotionally hopeless that he couldn’t show vulnerability for more than a few minutes without having to cover it up defensively?

Although… Garak wasn’t exactly incorrect in saying that Julian was in no position to judge. ‘Defensive’, ‘uncomfortable with vulnerability’, ‘emotionally hopeless’ – if he were honest with himself, these were all adjectives that could describe one Doctor Julian Bashir…

God, they really were a pair, weren’t they? Despite himself, he started to chuckle, the situation suddenly appearing to him quite absurd.

“I fail to see the amusement in this situation,” snapped Garak, which only made Julian laugh harder.

“Us,” he replied. “We’re both useless at this, Garak. God.” He sat back down, roughly wiping his sleeve across his eyes, and took a deep, settling breath.

“Stay,” he said, looking up into Garak’s eyes and pulling on his hand. “Please. I don’t want you to go.”

Garak was looking back at him, although Julian wasn’t sure if his face was creased in confusion or concern.

“I cannot promise that I will not… upset you, again,” he replied tightly.

“I guess I can’t promise that either,” said Julian, “but we can try talking about it, can’t we? We didn’t do too badly tonight.”

Garak raised an eyebrow. “Okay, tonight has been a train wreck,” Julian corrected. “But you know what they say: practice makes perfect. Sit down, Garak. Please.”

He moved Kukulaka back onto his lap, indicating that the space next to him was now free, but Garak made no movement. Julian’s heart seemed to stop as he waited, his eyes caught in the Cardassian’s piercing blue gaze.

“Your bear will never be as he was before,” noted Garak, his voice low. “I cannot change that.”

Julian stopped running his fingers through the bear’s fur, dropping his eyes down to Kukulaka. “I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t lie – that’s going to hurt for quite some time.” For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, as a mixture of loss and regret pulled sharply upon his heartstrings. “But losing you won’t make that go away,” he continued, looking back at Garak once more. “Will you stay?”

There was another too-long pause, but finally, finally, Garak was sitting back down with a sigh. “If I must,” he complained, but Julian knew that was just for show. Before he could second-guess himself, he set Kukulaka down on Garak’s lap, smiling at the surprise that immediately leapt onto the Cardassian’s face.

“Doctor…”

“Kukulaka would like to say thank you for making him feel better,” Julian said firmly. “Apparently you make for quite the doctor, too.”

“Oh?”

For a few seconds, Garak was seemingly speechless, his eyes flicking between Julian and Kukulaka, before settling on the bear. “You’re quite welcome, young bear,” he said seriously. “Although I doubt I’ll be taking up that mantle again any time soon.”

“Actually,” said Julian tentatively, hoping that he wasn’t about to shatter their recently-brokered truce. “Um, Kukulaka thinks you should know that there’s another way to make him feel better, too.”

“And what’s that?”

Julian’s reply came out as little more than a whisper.

“A good hug?”

Garak’s eyes settled on Julian’s face once more. “I don’t suppose…” he said slowly, “that Kukulaka knows if this… technique… would also be appreciated by Doctor Bashir?”

Julian could feel his cheeks growing warm. “Kukulaka has it on good authority that Doctor Bashir would really like a hug,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light.

“Even a Cardassian one?”

“Especially a Cardassian one.”

Emboldened by Garak’s response, Julian shifted himself closer, pulling Garak’s arm around him so that he could curl up against his chest, Kukulaka safely ensconced within his own arms. It was surprising how natural it felt, like Julian had always belonged at Garak’s side, and always would.

“What do I do now?” asked Garak.

“Just hold me,” Julian murmured. “For as long as you want – until you want to leave. Just… Just hold me.”

“My dear Doctor,” Garak murmured back, his rough fingers beginning to trace patterns over Julian’s arm. “I thought we’d agreed that I would not be leaving.”

#Thank you for the prompt nonny #I hope you like what I've done with it - I'd love it if you let me know what you thought! <3 <3 #Garashir #Julian Bashir #Kukulaka #Elim Garak #Andi writes #wsb

59 notes · View notes

chernabogs · 10 months ago

Text

The Moon

Inc: Malleus, briefly Prefect Warnings: Some spoilers for the platinum jacket bday vignette. The laundry... LMAO WC: 2.5k Summary: 4 firsts that Malleus had under the watchful gaze of his oldest friend. First moments, first shop, first wash, first friend.

1—First Moments.

There is an envy of the moon that rots through his heart as a plague does the flesh.

The moon was his friend for the longest time in his youth; people would pass like a breeze—tutors, courtiers, servants, —leaving him stagnant, alone. But the moon would always return. She’d look down at where he leaned out the window, his small hands grasping the stones to steady himself, and her silver light would bath over him like the gentle touch of a mother—at least, how he imagined that touch to be. He’d whittle away hours admiring her mottled surface, and she’d whittle away hours gazing back, until she would eventually vanish with the night as the inky black sky faded to a twilight blue.

The envy existed because she always had the opportunity to come and go. Malleus was confined to a box for much of his life. Never once did he need to lift a finger, even if he desired to;

your highness is not meant to do that. Your highness is not meant to toil, and labour, and break the earth as we must. Hot sun should not kiss your fragile skin, sweat should not touch your brow. You must always remain above and away. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.

No one ever worked for the moon. She controlled the tides, made the Valley livable, and in return was worshipped for her trials among those denizens. One does not tell the moon you are not meant to do that. You are not meant to toil, and labour, and wrestle the tides for our needs. That was preposterous to think. So, should he not, too, work alongside the rest to make the Valley a better place? Would that not make the most sense?

For a while he resented it. He would turn to his side to face away from the window as night came, grasping his sheets with his hands and glaring into the darkness as though the moon would feel sad in his absence. That’s a silly thought. A floating rock in space cannot fathom the emotions burdened by fae and man alike. But in his childish mind—packed with tales of birds that talk and trees that walk—it was perfectly reasonable. Sometimes, it still is.

The resentment only lasted a few weeks before guilt began to eat him. That’s a silly thought, too. To feel guilty over ignoring a rock. Yet the next night he did find himself leaning on that window ledge once more, looking up at her with wide eyes as her silver light brushed across his cheeks. I’m sorry, he had whispered, knowing she could not hear but imagining she did.

The sun may not see his skin, but the moon certainly did, and she kissed it goodnight every evening before he went to rest. Lilia once told him his mother was a star, but Malleus wagered she’s far more than that. A star cannot contain the love and power he learned her to have.

No, looking up to the silver light above, he knew precisely what she had joined in those celestial skies.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

2—First Shop.

The opportunity for growth first came when he was invited to NRC. There is a first time for everything, and Malleus was quick to experience many in those early weeks of his initial year.

The first time shopping alone. Most experience this when they become adults, or they get a taste in their teenage years when their parent allows them to embark to a mall, or a place with companions. Malleus faced a trial by fire when he needed to purchase snacks for himself in his off time—he did have an appetite.

The cart broke, and that’s precisely when he knew this had been a dire mistake. Actually, he knew that when Lilia told him he was unable to go into town with Malleus. The discount store was the best place to get food for cheap and so Lilia had guided him here, and now the wheel was bent in a strange way and when he pushed it, it squeaked, or it didn’t move at all, and god this was awful, this was not how he planned—

Until an employee came. A single glance and a kick to the wheel fixed all his errors and so the crown prince of Briar Valley, with a charming flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, shoved the cart through the automatic doors after a mumbled word of gratitude. He’d get better at thanking people later. Gifts, for example, would be granted quite freely.

The second trial of shopping came in acquiring the items. Malleus was intelligent. Incredibly so, in fact. Many of his tutors had not been able to keep up with his leaps and strides in the academic field (if one ignores how he threw tantrums and caused a majority to quit in the first place). However, ill-equipped was he for the trials of price vs quality comparison, and so he found himself in a stand still at many points with two boxes in his hand, trying to rationalize which one had the better ingredients and was it really worth the additional 5 madol?

The experience took a grand total of two hours. Lilia called once—only to make sure Malleus did not become lost between the store and the school. A quick call became a long ordeal when Malleus barraged the man with questions regarding if it’s worth investing in carbonated water or not. He settled for whatever was in the taps at NRC, and he paid cash for it all. Because Lilia did, at least, inform him that paying with jewels was probably not an acceptable currency in the discount grocery outlet.

At the end of it all, when he was digging through the box of granola bars on his desk at a late hour, and the moons silver light was greeting him for the first time in an entirely new land, a sense of confidence in his ability to handle any trial ahead caused a smirk to curl on Malleus’ lips.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

3— First Wash.

That is until he met the machine.

He was a night owl. What he didn’t realize was that most teenage boys are night owls as well. He had not the faintest idea where the laundry room even was and deemed that 2 am in the kitchen was the best time to compensate for this. So enraptured in his scrubbing was he that he failed to hear the student until he heard an awkwardly spoken, “Um?” over his shoulder.

What a sight he must have been. Wide, green eyes glowing in the dark as he was hunched over the sink, a sock in one hand and a brush in the other. Perhaps his hair was disarrayed from the furious scrubbing to remove any dirt, perhaps his fangs were shown in his frustration of soap suds getting everywhere. Either way, the poor boy who had wandered into the kitchen for a midnight snack and encountered this was quite shocked. Malleus had straightened up, and a lingering silence had ensued until the boy had spoken once more in a frail, cracking voice.

“Housewarden? Why are you washing your clothes in the kitchen sink?”

Why, indeed? Malleus had the choice to take the prideful route and say that he wanted to, and so he did. Spare himself the embarrassment. Or he could own up to reality and admit a slight bit of vulnerability to the student. He wanted to form camaraderie and friendship—so perhaps vulnerability was the right way to go.

“I could not find the laundry room.” He had replied, a bit blunt in his words. The student stared at him for a moment longer before slowly blinking as the prince’s words registered to him. His mouth opened slightly, and he half turned to look out the kitchen door.

“Oh, I just use magic.” The student had then pointed to the stairs where the dorms were. “But you can probably just have someone take your load next time.”

Malleus knew his expression soured at the comment because the student’s face had dropped to worry. Let us harvest for your needs; let us serve.; this echoed in his mind as his hand had tightened around the sock. “No, I can do it myself.”

The words were cold to the point of cutting. Silence, once more, before the student had cleared his throat again. “... I am overdue for a load myself. Do you want me to show you the room?”

A simple question had been enough to ease any tension. Malleus’ expression had softened, and within twenty minutes, two boys were embarking in the dark with soapy laundry and baskets to scour the laundry room on their expansive campus. Malleus had looked to the moon as they passed and imagined her laughing at his plight.

Many tales regale of brave knights who encounter ferocious beasts in their endeavours, with voices that sound of a thousand cries and mouths that spew a volley of ash upon their polished armor. The knights inevitably slay the beast and parade its head proudly for all the adoring villagers to see.

Malleus’ beast had a body of stainless steel, and a mouth that chewed and swished clothing around with great fury. The first time he saw it, he had set his basket down and looked at the boy with an expression of; are you kidding me? Technology and the prince were not friends. Two phones burned within the first 48 hours of getting them had demonstrated that so far. But the boy exhibited a patience unseen as he had loaded his wash and walked the prince through the process of putting the laundry pod in, hitting the timer, and then hitting ‘start.’

The rumble of the wash had signified success. When Malleus repeated the steps with his own load and a second rumble had filled the wide, otherwise empty room, he felt quite akin to those knights slaying the beast.

The two of them had sat in the benches of that laundry room together until the load was done and the boy could show him the dryer. They had never really spoken again after that encounter, but the memory of the boy's compassion (a rarity for NRC students) in aiding the prince was not lost on him. When the boy was suddenly hit with a streak of uncanny luck, and he had asked himself why, perhaps he had a lingering idea of why this was—but he would say nothing, nor would the prince.

Only the moon knew the answer to that question.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

4—First Friend.

They had seemed utterly, completely, unequivocally normal when he first met them. Oh, he had heard about them—after all, one doesn’t just burst out of a coffin without the entire school knowing within the hour—but he had not met them, and when he finally did, he found himself to be quite underwhelmed. They were shorter than him, but just as quiet, and he had yet to know that those lingering awkward moments outside of Ramshackle would uproot his life in the most wondrous of ways.

The moon knew. But she couldn’t say anything; she just kept smiling down with her silvery grin from the skies above.

He hadn’t meant to return to them, but in time he did, until eventually the student from Ramshackle ingrained themself in his routine in a way that baffled him completely. Sometimes he would look down at them on their walks and wonder to himself now, where did you appear from?, as though the night would whisper the answer in his ear and he’d go, ah yes, that makes perfect sense.

The night is where they convalesce the most. In the beginning the student did not sleep often and Malleus, still ever the night owl, took advantage of this. He would abscond with them in the night (oh, he could imagine his Senate wailing how scandalous! in their flickering forms) and they would walk a familiar loop around campus until returning to the steps of Ramshackle once more.

Sometimes they talked the entire way. Other times they would simply move in silence, an unspoken understanding between them of two people in a routine they were both quite comfortable with. When an overblot had happened, the student would tell Malleus about the event, and he would nod in grave understanding—not knowing what they felt, since he never experienced it himself, but empathizing with them all the same.

It would also allow him to make a mental note to reach out to the affected party later. Just to check in.

Winter break had been a time of upset for him because it had disrupted the routine he was used to. Back in the box, back in his room, with servants attending every need. The freedom he had become accustomed to being robbed from him made him feel like a mad dog in a cage and the absence of those now familiar night walks had him glaring at the sky. The moon was still there—so one member of their party was present—but the student was back at NRC, and it created a sort of them shaped void in his chest that made him restless.

They didn’t reply to his holiday card. Maybe he had overstepped, or maybe they were like him and lost track of time on occasion. He liked to imagine it was the latter. He liked to try and find more things similar between them both beyond a love for the night and the moon.

When he had returned and they had given him the VDC tickets, another sense of joy had sparked in his chest as he had held those tickets tight. A warmth flooding throughout his body, something he hadn’t quite felt before beyond when he looked at his family, and he wondered in that moment if this is what it felt like to be a part of something. He had always imagined having those experiences—being invited to parties, creating mischief in the night, sharing secrets and laughter under the stars. The student was granting these to him, despite both parties not knowing so yet.

The moon knew, though. She kept smiling down at them as they would whisper on their walks, hands close enough to brush but not touching each other because that felt too far just yet. She would observe the way Malleus would watch the student until they re-entered Ramshackle to ensure that they made it inside safe, and the faint smile on his lips as he walked away.

She knew, even when they did not.

For now, however, Malleus was comfortable calling the student friend. They were someone who did not walk before him in guidance, or behind him in subservience. They walked comfortably by his side as an equal, and for that, they held more significance than he cared to admit.

NRC had brought many firsts to Malleus’ life, and as each moment passed, he felt that envy of the moon fade away. For in the end, to be envious of his oldest friend was a pointless thing.

#malleus draconia #twst #twst fanfiction #malleus x reader #somewhat... more platonic but w those lil hinty hints yk #hehe his bday vignette rotating in my brain <3 this man #also wow look MORE dia... ;;

238 notes · View notes

ssa-atlas-alvez · 3 months ago

Note

Hii, I love your writing and how you portray the characters. You can just ignore this if you want(i alr tried this once, so pls just ignore this if it's annoying😭)

But I was wondering if you could write a Male reader who works in the BAU and has a motorcycle he's obsessed with, or something like that?

(Thank you sm if you do actually write this🙏)

Also, can I be 🎸 -anon?(if it's available?)

Don't worry it didn't annoy me whatsoever, I've just got quite a few asks at the minute (70) so I don't always see things straight away! 🎸is still available (it's on the anon list but that's from your previous ask - also generally speaking if I ever miss out an anon please let me know).

I don't know how this fic came about it just did... lol

Also I'm combing this with your previous ask too since it's the same vibe :) Hope you enjoy!

(Previous ask: Hey, I love your fics so much, and you can ignore my ask if you want. But I was just wondering if you could do a Male reader with a motorcycle? Like, reader takes really good care of his motorcycle, or nobody knows that reader owns a motorcycle? It just seems really cool and it's been in the back of my mind, and you write really well.)

Warnings: pregnant jj because I've realised I've never mentioned her pregnant before, childbirth, labour (not onscreen)

Your car had broken down. Usually, you’ve drive to work, bright and breezy and be sat at your desk at 7am, cup of coffee in hand, exchanging longing glances to your girlfriend (JJ), and listening to Reid’s latest fact. Today, however, not so much.

You got into your car and turned the key. It came to slowly, groaning as it did. You didn’t even make it out of your driveway before the engine cut. You groaned, grabbing your bag and going back inside the house. You put on the necessary gear, helmet included, and grabbed your bag once more.

Throwing the bag in your under seat storage, you hopped on, engine quickly roaring to life before you were racing down the road.

Strangely enough, everyone was running late. And so, as you pulled up to work, the team were all catching up outside and about to walk in.

JJ sighed, seeing the bike pull in. She always worried about you when you rode. She placed a hand on her upper stomach, the action soothing. The last thing she needed was the father of her child getting into a motorcycle accident on his way to work.

Morgan gave a low whistle, seeing the motorbike. A full black Triumph Bonneville T100, a classic, a beauty.

“Holy shit,” Morgan grinned, “You ride this thing?”

“No, I actually walked to work next to it the entire journey.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No need to be snarky,” He snorted.

“Sorry, no coffee this morning,” You replied, JJ nodded in understanding, hand placed on the bump on her stomach.

“Babe, you told me you wouldn’t ride to work- ah!” JJ cut herself off with a short inhale.

“JJ?” You asked softly. “You good?”

“I think my water just broke.” JJ said said, taking another breath.

“Oh, okay, that’s fine- wait, what?” You asked, face paling. “But you’re not due for another two weeks-”

“Does this look like the face of someone who doesn’t know that?” She snapped.

You looked around helplessly for a second. “You know what would get you to the hospital fast-?” You said, motioning to your motorcycle.

“I’m not getting on that death trap, go get my car.”

You give a small nod, “Yes Ma’am.”

Morgan gave a laugh, “Day trip to the hospital, I guess.”

“Aunty Penny is ready!” Garcia exclaimed holding up two bags.

“What- where did you even get that?”

“I knew you would have an absolutely flap over this, so I decided to be prepared.” She grinned. “Now go get the car.”

“Right, right. Car.” You nodded. “Keys. Keys?”

“Keys.” Garcia said, handing them over. With that you ran off to get JJ’s car.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #spencer reid #david rossi #emily prentiss #x male reader #male reader #bau x male reader #jj x male reader #jj x reader #x reader #reader

77 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

Text

tourniquet

leah williamson x reader

warnings: smut, self harm, hurt n comfort with fluff n protective leah. 18+ minors dni.

There was country music thrumming across the living room, drowning out the background noise that came from the bustling London street outside the door of Leah’s house. You were both lying down on her couch, lazily making out, Leah was on top of you, her lips moving rhythmically against your own. It was sweet, the taste of Leah’s spearmint gum and glass of wine welcome on your tongue as you granted her access to your mouth. All you could hear was the sound of Chris Stapleton and laboured breathing as you both took a break to breathe every once and a while. The telly was playing behind Leah, a premier league game or something that neither of you had been paying much attention to once you’d gotten your hands on each other.

Leah’s hands were gently rested on your hips, her nails grazing up and down the delicate skin, her soft and luscious lips caressing yours like you were a piece of fine china, delicate to the touch. It put you on cloud 9, just allowing yourself to be completely enveloped by the pure love and adoration that was flowing from Leah’s body to your own. You felt immaculate, like you were made of a million dollars, Leah had a habit of making you feel that way. You’d never gotten past this stage, never beyond heated kisses and little feather light touches. Leah was cautious of how young you were, and as long as you were happy so was she. But right now, all you wanted was more, you felt desperately greedy as you allowed your hips to grind up into hers. Leah didn’t even notice the first time, until you bucked them up into her and her eyes bursted open, looking at you with a mixture of shock and complete adoration.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

Leah was an absolute golden retriever, never wanting to push you more than you could handle, but that also didn’t mean that she didn’t have desires of her own, desires to make you feel better than you ever had before.

Leah lowered her lips to your neck, sucking a light mark into your unembellished skin, leaving her mark on you. You moaned open lippedly, your hips arching upwards into her own, your back attending back into the pillows.

“Lee, please.”

Leah smirked against your neck, her innocent girl begging was something that she’d never get over. She lowered her head down your neck, to the top of the tank top you were wearing, kissing along the lines of it. She moved her mouth down, to the part of your stomach that was on show, the milky abdomen that she loved so dearly. She flattened her tongue out against your stomach, making you feel better than you ever had before with her tongue sensually sliding against your soft skin. Leah’s hands moved to hook into the waistband of your shorts and suddenly your had shot out to stop her.

Leah jerked away from you, a guilty look on her face as she looked down at you with regretful eyes.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I read the situation wrong, we don’t have to do anything, I didn’t mean to push y-.”

You stopped Leah’s worrying before she could say anything else to you.

“Leah it was perfect, I wanted it. I just thought I should warn you, there’s a lot of scars on my thighs and hips, and I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable about them.”

Your voice is anxious, full of uncertainty about what questions Leah might ask or what presumptions might come to her head. You knew this moment was inevitable. that as perfect has your relationship had been in the last few weeks, you were going to need to face your fears and eventually venture to this part of your relationship.

Leah moves back up your body, pressing a gentle peck to your lips and smiling against them.

“You're beautiful to me no matter what, if you feel comfortable I’d love for us to keep going. Have you done this before?”

Your lip jutted out between your teeth, your evident embarrassment about your virginity coming to light.

“Not exactly, but I’ve experimented and I feel safe with you, I don’t want us to stop.”

Leah nods her head against your lips, smiling and sliding her body back down yours, to the space she had previously occupied between your legs.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, we’ll just take it nice and slow.”

Leah’s hands rehooked into your waistband, this time with zero push back from you. When you nodded your head at her she smiled, pulling your shorts down tantalisingly slow. You bit the inside of your cheek, watching Leah’s face expressions closely as she tugged your shorts down to your knees. Suddenly you felt so vulnerable, so scared. Leah’s face didn’t falter, as she continued to tug your shorts down to your ankles and then down onto the end of the couch. She kept her eyes trained on the lines between your thighs, a completely neutral facial expression as she surveyed the tattered skin. It wasn’t something you were proud of, the raised skin all over the insides and outside of your thighs and hips. It wasn’t a pretty sight, there was a reason why you never wore bikinis in front of anybody. Leah did something you never would have expected, she leant down to the space between your thighs and gently placed a series of kisses to every single line. There were hundreds, she could spend hours between you thighs kissing them and it wouldn’t have mattered to her, all that mattered to her was making sure that you knew just how loved you were in her care.

“So beautiful, so perfect, so brave.”

Leah’s words were murmured warmly against your skin, there was nothing sexual about her actions, just complete honesty and pride at what you’d gone through to get to where you were. She took her time with the old, new, raised, red, white, faded. Every single one was equally important to her, every single one of the proof of just how brave you were, just how hard you’d fought.

“Lee, please.”

Your words were desperate, the image of Leah between your thighs mentally imprinting on your brain, like a tattoo to your skin. She was doing everything but dealing with the wet patch between your thighs though, the place where you desperately needed her the very most. Leah smiled up at you, the corners of her lips stretched tightly with a smile on her face.

“Is someone getting inpatient?”

Leah’s head came to rest on the inside of your thigh, as she looked up at you with hooded eyes that held pure desire in them.

“I need you.”

The pure want in your voice sent shivers down Leah’s back, shocking her straight to her core.

“I suppose.”

Leah’s hands came up to the elastic of your black thong, a simple enough piece, nothing particular about it, yet Leah felt like she could worship that item of clothing for months if you let her. She tugged it down though, down to your knees before deserting it and looking down to appreciate your glistening sex.

“So wet, I haven’t even touched you where it matters yet?”

You mewled at Leah, desperate for her to just give your dripping hole some much needed attention.

“Leah.”

She smirked at your needy tone, almost a whine.

“Fingers or mouth?”

It was such a simple question, and yet you struggled to answer out of the sheer amount of pleasure that the ultimatum brought you.

“Both.”

As soon as the words left your mouth Leah’s mouth was diving into your folds, licking a stripe from your clit all the way down to your hole. It was inexplicably perfect, and you let her know as much by the moans that feel sinfully from your lips. She licks again and again, and again, and again and again, until her lips finally suction to your clit and you almost fall from the couch from the electric shocks that are sent all over your body. Leah sucks gently, treating your clit like the treasure it is, savouring every single second that her mouth gets to taste you and learn what you like best.

“You taste so good, baby.”

Suddenly your hand is on top of your mouth, muffling the scream that Leah’s words force your body to produce from the pure desire coursing across your body. One of Leah’s arms comes to rest on top of your hips, to stop their unsynchronised bucking so she has a stabler grip on your pussy. Her voice sends vibrations across your sex, Leah suckles at your clit one last time before moving her head down to your hole, giving you her nose as a means to grind on. Your wound so tight from the simple actions that Leah knows you won’t last much longer, not that she minds, as long as your feeling pleasure thats what matters the most to her.

She thrusts her tongue into your sex and suddenly your thighs, the muscular thighs that not long ago Leah had been littering with adoration are wrapping around her head, somewhat cutting of Leah’s air supply. Leah doesn’t hesitate, only diving in further, helping you to chase your impending high. Leah’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pushing them open carefully so she can breathe and then diving back into your hole, thrusting her tongue in and out of it and resonating in the moans that fall from her mouth as she does. Leah’s taste buds are being completely bombarded with your scent and taste, it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced.

When she realises that you need a little bit more she brings one of her hands down from your hips and to your wetness. Your body jerks at the sensation of her rough pads making contact with your clit. Leah doesn’t spend long on it, replacing her fingers with her mouth and moving her fingers down to your clenching hole. It comes as no surprise to her when one of her digits slides in with zero resistance, your needy pussy sucking up whatever Leah gives it.

Leah begins a relentless pace, pumping her single digit in and out with rigour, It’s great, but you want and can take more.

“Leah, fuck, more.”

Leah only hums against your sensitive drippiness and on the next pump she adds another finger, slowing her strokes slightly to allow you to adjust to the intrusion. You’re so tight on her fingers, clenching down on her so hard that she has to put a little bit more effort into pushing her fingers in and out of your entrance.

When she begins to curl her fingers you're a goner, moaning wildly above her.

“Fuck Leah, fuck, fuck.”

The coil in your stomach is wound as tight as it can go, the need in your stomach at its capacity.

“Cum for me sweetheart, I’ve got you, cum all over my fingers.”

Leah’s words are enough of a booster for you, and in an almost embarrassing lot of moans and jerks your body is falling directly over the edge, your thighs shaking on either side of Leah’s head. You try to press your legs together, to protect your spasming cunt while it clenches and makes a mess all over Leah’s face, but she holds your legs open with her spare hand, desperate to see exactly what she’s done to you, the way she’s ruined your perfect little pussy. She guides you through your orgasm, gently cleaning you up with her mouth and easing her fingers out of your cunt when the aftershocks have dulled down. She cleans her fingers with her mouth, savouring the taste of you on her tongue. Once she was done cleaning up she snaked her way up your body, resting her head on your chest and admiring the thoroughly fucked-out facial expression that adorned your face.

“Your a devil.”

Leah only smiled at you, pressing a series of kisses all over your face, covering your skin with her lips.

“It was good?”

You nodded almost immediately, still shocked at how good Leah had been able to make you feel with just her fingers and mouth.

“It was perfect.”

The smile that graces Leah’s face is perfect, it’s full of happiness and pure bliss.

“Are you doing alright?”

Leah can’t help herself but ask, because the part of her that’s constantly worrying about her teammates is now worrying about you, worried if she’s been missing the signs that you're not doing okay.

“Leah I’m doing better than ever, you make me so happy, moving to Arsenal has been the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Leah nods dutifully, observing the information that warms her soul, knowing that you're happy and that her home is making you happy is music to her ears.

“Can I ask you why you do it, or did it?”

Leah’s voice is shaky, uncertain, she doesn’t want to push you, but she also wants to know this part of you, all she wants is to care about you and prove to you that she loves you like you deserve.

“How about we move up to bed and get into pjs and then I’ll explain it all to you, or as much as you want to hear?”

Leah nods quickly, pushing herself off the couch and picking you up easily, walking towards her bedroom. She helps you into the bathroom, the both of you doing your business and going about your night time routines. Whilst you’ve only been dating Leah for two months now, since you started at Arsenal, you’ve very quickly intertwined your life with hers, your toothbrush had a permanent space in Leah’s bathroom, your clothes in her wardrobe, your favourite snacks in her pantry. You stayed over at Leah’s house more often than not, claiming it was convenient because she was closer to the training ground. Leah loved your company so she was hardly one to object.

Once you’d both finished brushing your teeth and going about your nighttime skin care she dragged you into her wardrobe, throwing one of her hoodies and a pair of her boxers at you. You threw them on nonchalantly, watching curiously as Leah found her favourite oversized shirt, an old Arsenal one and a pair of sleep shorts. Once she was done you both walked into her room, her arm wrapped around your waist as she led you under the covers.

She leant her own body against the bed head, bringing your head to rest against her chest whilst she carded her fingers gently through your scalp. It was everything you’d grown to love about Leah, sure, Leah was terrifying on the pitch, terrifying as a captain, but in private she was one of the sweetest people you’d ever met.

“I started when I was 14.”

You let your words hang in the empty space, focusing on the feeling of Leah’s fingers working their way through your scalp, it was almost as good as the massages you got at the hairdressers when they were washing your hair.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Leah wants to know, she wants to know every single little detail about you, but she also doesn’t want to push you, good things come to people who wait, and as far as she’s concerned her biggest worry is you and making sure that you feel comfortable with her.

“No, I want to, I just haven’t really talked about it like this with anyone.”

Leah nods her head and continues her movements across your scalp, smiling to herself as you relax into her touch.

“It was my coping mechanism growing up, in a house with so many kids and parents who are stretched so thin isn’t easy, and I was going through a really tough time. So I turned to self harm, a few of my friends had been joking about it so I tried it. I never really did it with the attention of seriously harming myself or killing myself, it was just my stress reliever. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism, I know that, I’ve tried my hardest to quit it over the past years, I really have tried. I hae a therapist, you know that though, and we’ve been working on it for a few years, I’m 4 months clean currently, I’m trying my best.”

Leah just nods at your words, forever supportive of you.

“I’m not here to tell you what's wrong and right, obviously I would love for you not to hurt yourself, but I also understand that everyone has coping mechanisms that work for them, I bite my nails when I’m nervous, and obviously there not the same things but I have my ways of coping as well. All that matters to me is that you are happy and doing okay, you’re putting in the work through therapy, you're trying your hardest and that’s all that matters. I’m here to be your person, to be the person in your corner, not here to tell you that you’ve fucked up your life. You are so incredibly strong and brave y/n, that’s what I see in you, a girl who has struggled but she found a way to survive, a way to get herself through the day. Sure, cutting yourself isn’t the best alternative, but you learnt how to survive and I commend you for that, I commend you for finding a way to deal with all the pain that you were going through. I love you so much sweetheart, all I want is to support you and be here for whatever you need.”

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, you bring the corner of Leah’s hoodie to your eyes, wiping away the wetness from your face.

“I love you too Lee.”

She smiled down at you, your face shining under the moonlight that was flowing in through the open curtains.

“I know sweetheart, now get some sleep, we can talk as much or as little about this in the morning.”

The topic doesn’t come up for a few more weeks, both you and Leah enjoying the absolute bliss that your relationship is providing. You're riding on cloud nine at Arsenal, scoring goals in most matches and earning your spot on the squad. You feel so happy, so secure, more than you ever had at any stage in your life, it all comes crashing down after a game though.

You didn’t even notice what was happening when it was being pointed out. You were post game, getting changed in the locker rooms after a tough loss to Chelsea 3-2. You weren’t really thinking straight, if you had been you would have waited until you were in the shower cubicle to get changed, but all you wanted to do was throw on some sweats and find Leah so she could take you home. You tugged off your shorts and compression shorts without much care, slinging them into the back of your locker whilst you searched through your bag for the sweatpants that you were sure you’d packed.

“Chook, what are those?”

It’s Katie’s deep Irish accent that catches your attention, your eyes moving to meet hers, which are fixated on the outside of your thighs. Katie’s voice attracts the attention of some of your neighbouring teammates and suddenly you're frozen to your spot, staring at the same marks Katie is looking at.

“Y/n/n, goo game darling.”

It’s Leah’s arms wrapping around your shoulders that draws your attention, her eyes quickly fall to where both you and Katie are looking.

“Mccabe, do we have a problem?”

Leah’s voice is so defensive, she had known this day was going to roll around at some stage, she’s just glad that she was here for you when it happened.

“Er, I was just asking y/n about what was on her thigh.”

You body goes rigid in Leah’s arms, Leah’s defensive mode doesn’t falter though.

“Hardly any of your business, I’d think.”

Katie gulps, but her confidence doesn’t waiver, and she’s now attracted the attention of Caitlin, your national teammate who is peeping over her girlfriends shoulder to get a view at what the focus of the three of you is. Caitlin’s eyebrow raises in questioning, but she doesn’t vocalise.

“Was just curious.”

Leah glares at Katie, and you can tell by the facial expression she’s going to bring this up at a later date with her, but not right now, not when you're present.

“Take your curiosity somewhere else.”

Leah’s hands reach for your sweatpants, and you're forever grateful as she hands them to you and you quickly slip them on. Leah helps you with your hoodie and packing up your bag, before leading you out of the rooms with one of her hands on the small of your back, guiding you out to her car. You don’t say anything much on the way there, but as soon as your in the safety on Leah’s car you just turn to her.

“Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciated that.”

Your voice is quiet, shy, something that Leah wishes you’d never feel in front of her, but she understands that your teammates curiosity has gotten the best of you, and whilst she loves Katie like a sister, she’s just a little bit pissed off at her bluntness.

“Not a problem my love, I’ve got you remember, I’m here for you.”

Leah notices a change in you after that interaction, you shut down a little bit, especially in front of your teammates. She doesn’t push you, she understands that you're going through an adjustment period, plus you seem pretty happy when it’s just the two of you hanging out. That’s why she didn’t hesitate to go out tonight, it was a pre planned dinner with Alex and a few of their other mutual friends, you insisting that she go out and enjoy herself.

It’s a fairly relaxing night, Leah eats salmon and veggies, her go to when she’s out for dinner, drinks a glass of wine and catches up with her best friend, it’s nice, but she wants to come home to you, that’s why she stays sober, she doesn’t go out clubbing when Alex asks, because she has something to go home to now, somebody she can hold in her arms and feel so incredibly fulfilled. Alex jokes about Leah being completely infatuated with you, puppy love, and Leah can’t find any reason to deny it, because it’s true, she’s fallen head over heels in love with you. She leaves dinner at a more than reasonable time, just past nine.

She drives home with an almost giddy smile on her face and when she pulls into her driveway she can’t help but feel completely inebriated with the sheer amount of excitement coursing through her body at getting to see you, and love you and just be with you. She knocks her door open as she rushes through the entryway, her eyes searching for you. She doesn’t see you in the kitchen or lounge room, so after sliding her coat and shoes off she moves into her bedroom. When she doesn’t find you in bed she’s a little bit shocked, but then she hears the sound of the shower steadily beating down against the tiles of her bathroom and everything makes sense. She moves to the door, sliding it open, hoping to be rewarded with the sight of your beautiful naked form, and secretly hoping that maybe she’ll be able to join you. What she hadn’t expected was to find you sitting on her bathroom floor, a razor blade in one hand and red lines bleeding all over your thighs.

Your eyes snap up at Leah, unaware that she’d even entered the threshold of her house, let alone the bathroom that you were currently sitting on the floor in. Your eyes almost pop out of your skull, as do Leah’s as she realises exactly what’s going on. You shriek, involuntarily, absolutely terrified of the predicament that you’ve been found in. Leah freezes, her body unmoving as she stairs down at you, completely unsure what to do.

“Leah it’s not what it looks like.”

It’s exactly what it looks like, your sitting on her bathroom floor, with a razor pressed to your thigh, blood dripping steadily down you skin. It’s a sight that Leah never wanted nor expected to see, you’d been doing so well, she’d even sat in on one of your therapy appointments and talked with your psychologist about just how much of a change they’d seen in you since you’d made the move.

“Fuck-sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on you- Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to go get some towels, and bandaids, and disinfectant.”

Leah’s words come out in shambles and you manage to soothe her with your own voice.

“Leah, beside me, I’ve got it all.”

Leah’s shocked at your preparedness, her eyes darting to the pile of supplies beside you, telling her that this was clearly premeditated.

“Okay-Fuck-I’m so sorry, do you need me to help? I should help, shouldn't I? Fuck, what do you need me to do?”

You nod at Leah, the both of you are clearly so unsure about this whole interaction. Leah’s brain seems to be short circuiting, and it doesn’t help with your uncertainty.

“Leah, just leave, I can sort this out myself.”

Your voice is short, dismissive, you don’t want to push Leah out but you're also so unsure right now and Leah’s own insecurity isn’t helping you. Leah’s captain instincts seem to kick in though, and before you can object she’s shaking her head and walking towards the shower, turning it off because it’s clearly not being used and then moving to sit down next to you.

“How about you let me clean you up, hmm? We’ll talk about it later, just let me look after you, you don’t have to do this all by yourself, I’m here for you.”

You look into Leah’s eyes, and whilst there’s still uncertainty hiding in them somewhere, she looks so much surer, so much more caring and you just nod your head helplessly, like a goldfish.

Leah reaches for your pile of supplies, first reaching for a damp towel and pressing it down onto the inside of your thighs, essentially using it as a form of absorption and tourniquet for your bleeding. She holds it like that for a few minutes, just waiting for your blood to clot. Once it does she throws the towel into her hamper and reaches for the disinfectant.

“This one will burn, just be brave for me yeah, my brave, strong, beautiful girl.”

Leah’s words of comfort do wonders for you, your body relaxing as Leah moves between your thighs. She smears a dollop of the disinfectant on her finger before gently bringing the pad of her index into contact with your scars.

You groan out in pain, the disinfectant searing as it ingrains itself in the lines that you’d inflicted on yourself. Leah tries her best to be quick about it, but she also does a thorough job, ensuring that none of the lines are going to get infected. Once she’s done with the disinfectant she moves for some bandages and takes her time addressing each individual scar. Once she’s done she pressed a kiss to every mark that she’d dressed, pressing her lips gently to the bandages. It makes you think of when your mother used to kiss every single football injury you’d procure, telling you it would feel better, and it never really did make it any better, but it made you feel safer, happier, like everything would keep moving even with the pain you were feeling in the moment. This time with Leah was no different, the action making you feel all cosy and warm on the inside, something that a few minutes ago you’d felt like was completely unachievable.

“I’m going to go get some shorts and water for you, is there anything else you need?”

You shake your head shyly, and take notice of the way that Leah palms the blade that you’d previously been using and watched as her eyes search around the bathroom to see if there are any more.

“That’s the only one.”

Leah nods and smiles at you, pressing a kiss to the point of you nose before leaving the bathroom.

She isn’t gone long, returning in a record amount of time with the water and shorts she’d gone out to get and a protein bar. She opens the bottle and packet of the bar for you, handing them to you whilst she sits herself back down in front of you and helps you into she shorts, being eternally careful of the bandages that she’d just put on your legs.

Once you’d drunk the water and eaten the bar she gives you a lopsided smile, on that tells you that you have a lot to talk about.

“How about we get into bed chook, tonights been a lot.”

You nod at Leah, she helps you off the floor and leads you into the bed, tucking you under the covers before lying down beside you.

Leah wraps one around your waist, her hand coming to hover on top of the scars that not long ago you’d inflicted on your own skin.

“I’m sorry.”

Your words are a whisper, meant for only you and Leah, not that there’s anybody in earshot to hear you.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for chook.”

Leah’s words come out as a sigh, she’s disappointed in you for a series of reasons, but not because of your actions.

“Why do you look disappointed then?”

Your hands fiddling with the corner of your pillow, your eyes trained on Leah as she ums and ahs over how to answer that question in the best way. She lets out a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m disappointed in myself for not seeing that you were struggling this much. Never at you though, I told you that I understand why you do this, and I meant it. I’m a little bit disappointed that you didn’t try to talk to me, but I understand that it’s not always that easy, I’m worried about you more than anything, chook and I was just a little bit shocked when I walked in on you. That’s not to say that I’m in any way shape or form angry with you, I could never be angry at you, I’m just doing a lot of thinking.”

You nod at Leah, trying to compartmentalise every single word that leaves her mouth.

“I didn’t want to bother you, especially when you were so excited to see Alex.”

Leah bites down on the inside of her cheek, she feels a little bit guilty about the fact that Alex had taken priority over you, tonight of all nights.

“Baby, I don’t care if I’m in the World Cup final, I want you to talk to me when your struggling. I love Alex, yes. But there’s a reason I came home so early to you tonight, because I wanted to spend my night cuddled up in bed with you, because that’s how I love to spend my free time, with you. I would pick you over anyone else in the world. You can always call me, I’m always here for you, I’m always going to be your crutch or tourniquet.”

Leah’s words bring tears to your eyes that you didn’t know where there, and it pulls a guttural sob from your lungs.

“I’m sorry, I was just so stressed, and feeling so alone and it was all I could think about, so I walked down to the drugstore and bought a blade, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to use it, but then it was in my palm and it felt so good and I missed it so much, but then you were home and I realised that I don’t have to do this anymore, because you make me so happy, you make life worth living and you make my world turn.”

Leah brings her hand up to rest on your cheek, her fingers brushing away the stray hairs that are falling down in front of your eyes.

“I love you too chook, you make me happier than anybody else in the world. I’m by your side for it all, this world will never be enough for you but I’ll try to okay, from now on it’s you and me against the world, and if you feel like this I want you to talk to me about it. I’m not going to try and stop you, but at least I’ll be by your side, I’ll bandage up your body and your bones and every single one of your bad days as well, okay? Just promise me that your going to try and talk to me about it, that’s all I care about, that you feel safe enough with me that you can talk to me.”

You nod at Leah, the fat, warm, wet tears dripping down your face. Leah’s thumb wipes them away, clearing your vision and allowing you to see the welcoming smile that has graced Leah’s lips.

“I promise, you make me feel safer than anybody else and I’m going to do my very best for you, because I love you and I want to be happy with and for you.”

Leah nods her head, it’s all she can ask for, that you are happy and healthy and doing well.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, if you're not doing it for yourself then do it for me, show me just how strong and brave you can be, whatever you need, I’m here.”

You nodded your head, letting Leah’s words sink in like a tattoo on your skin.

“I need hugs from you, right now, you need to hug me.”

Leah just chuckles, but she obliges your request, wrapping her arms around you tightly, tight enough for you to know that she’s never letting you go if she can help it.

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #lionesses #marry me rn #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #golden retriever leah vibes #leah williamson is boyf #leah williamson is mother #leah makes me cry #i love leah williamson #leah williamson is mom #leah williamson imagine #pain #woso one shot #woso smut #woso imagines

400 notes · View notes