#let’s be like bees and just curl up in a flower

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Alright who wants to cuddle up in a flower and take a nap with me?

[ukiiseikou]

my breath twists with yours.

various genshin (diluc, wanderer, kazuha, xiao) x gn! reader. various things that happens after moving in together.

diluc: the space is filled

despite all the servants, diluc used to coming home to an empty and eerie mansion after his nights as the darknight hero. but now you're always greeting him at the door (no matter how late it is - you seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to when he's coming back) and he feels like he can actually relax as you guide him through his night routine. even in the mornings, when it is usually quiet as he flips through the delivered newspapers and stack of papers, he can hear you humming the latest song you heard from one of the traveling bards or your laughter as you chat to the housemaids about new gossip. the cracks in the walls get filled with chatter and noise thanks to you, and it makes him feel warm.

wanderer: taking up space

you gotta cram two people's stuff into his flat now, and that means taking over stuff and space that was always just his. he finds it a bit inconvenient at first - he reaches for his coffee mug only to find your's there, and his mug has been re-situated into another cabinet because "it's a different shape!". he can't find his moisturiser because YOUR skincare products have invaded his counter space and he just sighs. morning routines are ruined and the way things are placed that made sense to him are completely irrelevant to you. eventually he gets used to the reminders of you everywhere, like it was always there. he even starts reminding you where you placed something, like when you can't find your keys and he tells you its on the counter next to his.

kazuha: picking furniture together

he adds anything he finds 'aesthetic' and that calls out to him into the cart, and ends up with a eclectic mix of fabrics, textures, and woods that would send any self-respecting interior designer into a coma. even he admits he might've been a little too overboard, and eventually he settles with picking a few of his favourites and letting you handle the rest while he hovers behind you like a busy bee. grows giddy at the thought of creating a space that just feels like the both of you - his mind constantly running with thoughts of domestic bliss like cooking together and relaxing in the sun, the smell of freshly brewed tea in the air and the wind in your hair.

xiao: two of everything

xiao is used to being alone, and has been for a really long time, and old habits die hard. he struggles to adjust initially when you finally move in with him. keeps forgetting to make two cups of tea in the morning instead of just one, and grumbles and angrily scrubs at the plates about doing twice as much washing up but snaps at you when you offer to do it. but he gets used to it and thinks that being able to curl up next to you at the end of the day far outweighs any extra trouble he has to go through. he grows soft and starts thinking of you whenever he's out - bringing back flowers that brighten up your living room and ornaments that reminded him of you.

if you finished & liked it, please consider liking and reblogging ~ thank youuu

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I love the idea that Merlin adopted wild animals while he lived in Ealdor.

Everything is the same up until everyone goes to Ealdor in The Moment of Truth episode and Hunith has more animals around the house. Arthur is baffled when he sees and looks to Merlin for an explanation, but Merlin is just petting a raven on his shoulder asking if it missed him.

Hunith sighs and tells him his animals are all well. Arthur is just confused, so are Morgana and Gwen, but they’re going with it better than Arthur.

Hunith explains to a baffled Arthur that Merlin has a habit of adopting wild animals and says that he only started hiding them when she asked him to stop so it was easier to let him do what he wants so he’s open about it.

She’s telling Arthur that Merlin has:

There’s three rabbits Merlin keeps in a small fenced off bit of the garden, he found them as babies after Will killed their parents so he raised them.

An owl that lives on the roof, he found it with a broken wing and nursed it back to health then it just never left. It occasionally flies down to the window and keeps Hunith company while she’s in the house.

He keeps bees behind the house because the tree they had their hive on got cut down for firewood and he felt bad.

Two squirrels stop by every morning, they’re keeping a store of acorns in Hunith’s herb garden after Merlin started feeding them when they were young.

There’s a raven who Merlin trained to bring Hunith a flower a day in his absence after he found an egg and decided to try and hatch it.

She doesn’t finish the list, but it’s at that point that four wolves charge full speed at them, Arthur grabs his sword but Merlin drops to the ground and starts cuddling them like they’re puppies and asking in a baby voice if they missed him and if they’ve been good while he was away.

All the animals are fully self sufficient, they don’t add any work for Hunith so she’s happy to have them around for Merlin.

Morgana is having the time of her life and asks if she can pet the wolves, Gwen takes a liking to the raven who gives her flowers too. Arthur feels like he’s going insane but the owl seems to like perching on his shoulder while he’s sat by the fire in the evenings.

So most of the episode is the same, but when they get back to Camelot, Arthur tells Merlin he’s in charge of looking after his dogs and horses. Merlin grins and seems happier for it in the long run.

At some point after they return, Merlin starts adopting animals in Camelot too.

It starts small with a robin or something he found and rescued on a hunt, but he starts getting more and more animals. Arthur orders Gaius to let him do it, remembering what Hunith said about if Merlin wasn’t allowed he’d just do it anyway but in secret.

He then starts finding birds or rabbits in Merlin’s chambers, he draws the line at the snake but Merlin reluctantly agrees that’s fair since it was curled up in one of Arthur’s shoes that he took to polish over night.

Eventually Uther asks Arthur about it, but all he can say is “I don’t want to find him hiding squirrel houses in my chambers, so it’s better to just let him do it. At least he tells me when he’s adopted something this way.”

Then Merlin bursts in with a baby deer in his arms, saying “Arthur, I need a favour.”

[satellite-evans]

Not Again

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: This time it is another sibling that interrupts benedict and Y/N during a private moment

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, teasing, kissing

A/N:

This is the second part to Caught in the Act, I hope you all enjoy

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

You and Benedict decided to escape the bustle of the Bridgerton household by taking a leisurely stroll through the estate's expansive gardens. The fresh air and vibrant colors of the blooming flowers provided a sense of calmness.

The garden was one of your favorite places, a sanctuary where you could lose yourselves in the beauty of nature and each other’s company. The scent of roses and lavender wafted through the air, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves and made the flowers dance. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot as you walked hand in hand, Benedict's thumb drawing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

Benedict glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, we could always hide out in the gazebo. It's secluded and peaceful."

You smiled, feeling a sense of adventure bubble up inside you. "Lead the way, Mr. Bridgerton."

The gazebo was nestled at the far end of the garden, surrounded by tall hedges and flowering shrubs. It was a charming, ivy-covered structure with a white lattice roof, offering a perfect hideaway from the world. As you approached, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, admiring how beautiful it looked.

As soon as you reached the gazebo, Benedict pulled you into his arms, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. The soft murmurs of the garden, the chirping of birds, and the distant hum of bees created a natural symphony that seemed to celebrate your love.

"Benedict," you murmured against his lips, "someone might see us."

"Let them," he whispered back, his hands roaming your back. "I don't care."

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Benedict's touch was both gentle and possessive, pulling you closer as if he wanted to convey his love and desire through the embrace alone. His lips moved with a hunger that matched your own, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between you all day.

Lost in the intoxicating mix of passion and affection, you allowed yourself to melt into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. Every touch, every kiss felt like an affirmation of the deep connection you shared, a bond that transcended any embarrassment or interruption.

But just as the intensity of the moment peaked, the tranquility of the garden was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. You both jumped apart, hearts racing, turning to see none other than Anthony Bridgerton standing at the entrance of the gazebo, his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.

"Well, well, well," Anthony drawled, his eyebrow raised. "What do we have here?"

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment. "Anthony, we were just—"

"Just what?" he interrupted, his tone teasing. "Enjoying a private moment in the middle of the garden where anyone could walk by?"

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Anthony, do you ever knock before entering? Honestly, it's becoming a family habit."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "Not for family. Besides, it's not every day I catch my brother in such a compromising position."

You buried your face in your hands, feeling utterly mortified. The humiliation of being caught again by a Bridgerton sibling was almost too much to bear. Benedict, on the other hand, looked more annoyed than embarrassed. "What do you want, Anthony?"

"I was looking for you," Anthony replied, his tone becoming more serious. "Mother wants to discuss the arrangements for the upcoming ball, and she insists on having everyone's input."

Benedict sighed again, clearly reluctant to leave your side. "Fine, we'll be there in a minute."

Anthony nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Don't take too long. You know how Mother gets when we're late."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you and Benedict alone once more. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration.

"I swear, this family has a knack for showing up at the most inconvenient times," Benedict muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

You couldn't help but laugh, but it was a strained sound, reflecting your inner turmoil. "I suppose that's part of the charm of being a Bridgerton," you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

As the reality of the situation settled in, your amusement faded, replaced by a sense of vulnerability. "I can't believe we were caught again. First Eloise, now Anthony. It's so embarrassing, Benedict."

Benedict cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to form. "I'm so sorry, my love. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to spend some private time with you."

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "I know, and I love that about you. But you have to admit, this is partly your fault."

Benedict's eyes widened in mock indignation. "My fault? How is this my fault?"

You managed a small, teasing smile. "You're the one who insists on these secret rendezvous in places where your siblings have a habit of showing up unannounced. Maybe next time we should pick somewhere a bit more secluded?"

Benedict laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Point taken. Next time, I promise to choose a better location."

You leaned into his touch, feeling the tension dissipate. "Good. Because as much as I love our little adventures, I'd prefer them without an audience."

Benedict pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice filled with affection. "Deal. No more surprise appearances by the Bridgertons."

As you approached the grand entrance, laughter from inside reached your ears, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the sound of light chatter. You exchanged a glance with Benedict, both of you sharing a quiet moment of relief that the embarrassing interruption in the garden was behind you.

Just as you were about to step inside, a familiar voice rang out from the doorway. "Well, well, well! What do have we here?"

You froze, turning to see Eloise Bridgerton leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. Benedict sighed beside you, clearly resigned to yet another round of teasing from his ever-curious sister.

"Eloise," Benedict began, his tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement, "please tell me you're not going to make this any worse."

Eloise chuckled, stepping forward to block your path into the house. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. But I am guessing that the reason the both are you are so flushed is not because the two of you went running."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you shot Benedict a playful glare. "Anthony told you?"

Eloise nodded, her grin widening. "No, but I am guessing what he witnessed is not much different from what I had a couple of weeks ago. Do tell dear brother and sister, do you both have a knack for getting caught in compromising positions?"

Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though a hint of embarrassment lingered in his expression. "Could we perhaps continue this conversation inside or never?"

"Of course," Eloise replied, stepping aside to let you both pass. As you entered the house, she fell into step beside you, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, you're lucky it was Anthony who found you and not one of us younger ones. Gregory would have never let you live it down and Hyacinth would just keep asking questions."

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie despite the teasing. "I can only imagine."

Benedict shot his sister a pointed look as you reached the drawing-room door. "Eloise, I hope this doesn't become a family story."

She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, but Benedict, stories like this are what make family gatherings so entertaining."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Benedict, silently acknowledging the truth in Eloise's words. Despite the embarrassment of being caught, there was a certain charm in the way the Bridgeton's teased and supported each other, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and laughter.

[ace-turned-confused]

planted in your garden | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: joel has always shown his love for you through flowers, and now it's your turn to do the same word count: 1k warnings: 18+ only, reader has tattoos & is shorter than joel, joel being soft & lovey-dovey & just the best in general, bit of spiciness at the end a/n: written for @morallyinept's Fauna & Flora Challenge ❤️ not beta’d or any of that jazz, please enjoy :)

If there’s one thing you know about Joel Miller, it’s that he will always find a reason to buy you flowers, no need for a special occasion. It’s been a long hard week and I wanted to get you something, saw these pretty flowers and thought of my pretty girl, got them just because I love you. Whether it’s an entire bouquet or just a few wild stems tied together by a ribbon, you’re sure he’s given you more flowers than you’ve received in your entire life.

It started on your birthday — you told him you hadn’t planned anything because you didn’t want a big fuss and it wasn’t a number worth celebrating, and he insisted on bringing you dinner so you wouldn’t have to spend the evening on your own. Every number is worth celebrating, it means you’ve been around another whole year. You were floored when he showed up on your doorstep, pizza boxes in one hand and a bunch of red and pink tulips in the other.

“Saw the ink on your arm there and just assumed they were your favourite. None of the stores ever have anything fresh or pretty enough, so I just cut these from my back garden.”

Joel Miller. Cut red and pink tulips for you. From his own garden.

You’d only known each other a few weeks at that stage, and he’d been more observant in that short time than any other man you’d met. At first, you didn’t read into it too much, he’s just doing something nice for you. You told yourself it didn’t matter that this ‘something nice’ was the single nicest thing anyone ever did for you.

You ate your takeout pizzas and talked for hours that night, record player on in the background, sharing stories of years gone by and remembering the person you each used to be. A few stray tears even slipped down your cheek at one point — Joel moved to sit close next to and almost on instinct you rested your head on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting knowing just how vulnerable you could be around him. He was a kind soul, a rather rare find in today’s world, and you found it surprisingly easy to open up to him.

You asked him for a hug that night and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him, his chin resting on the top of your head and it was the safest you felt in years. Of course, and next time you don’t have to ask. You smiled into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He eventually pulled back to check on you and planted a hand on your waist; he bid you goodnight with a wink, called you sweetheart and went home, leaving you standing like an idiot, mouth hanging open in a daze and still feeling the heat that had radiated off his palm and the grip of his fingers through your shirt on your skin.

‘Sweetheart’ played in your mind over and over for hours, days, weeks after that — soon enough you acknowledged that you weren’t immune to his charms and you’ve never looked back.

The flowers aren’t only for you to enjoy — you noticed early on that Joel takes great pride in his garden. The lawn always mowed, flower beds always with manicured edges, bees and butterflies in abundance. You’ve spent many hours lounging in the sun just admiring him, your book long abandoned — temples and greying curls damp with sweat, t-shirt clinging to his arms and back, gym shorts showing him off deliciously, all while he potters around tending to his garden, refilling a bird bath, touching up the fence and spewing out endless plant facts.

He even expanded the bed of tulips, planting bulbs of different varieties and an array of colours — ones with frilly edges, ones with pointed petals, and even blooms that look almost hand-painted in their beauty. He told you he’d been planning this for months, long before he met you, but you knew that part of him was doing this for you, too.

Late one night he finally told you the red and pink of your birthday flowers represented eternal love and affection, and sheepishly admitted he only remembered that once he’d already knocked on your door. He had hoped you wouldn’t ask him the meanings that night and figured there must’ve been someone looking out for him when you simply accepted them with a dazzling smile and that twinkle in your eyes. He wonders how things might have played out differently if you had asked him that night.

Now it’s Joel’s birthday and you want to do something special for him — so here you are, lying underneath him in a matching set, simple and white and covered in daisies. Propped up by his elbows, he traces over a flower right in the centre of your bra.

“You gonna tell me anything about them?”

“Daisies supposedly represent innocence and purity…” His voice fades off as he trails his fingers featherlight across you, goosebumps rising in his wake. With a faint smile pulling at his lips, he lifts his gaze to look you in the eye. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

He leans to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth and you feel him pressed against your core, thick and heavy. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he grinds his hips into you, your fingers raking through his hair and tugging ever so slightly. He pulls back and starts snaking a hand down between you, now taken by the same applique daisies on your panties.

“Not sure those words apply right now, though,” he whispers to you, knuckles grazing the fabric.

“What, ‘innocence and purity’? You don’t think that’s true about daisies?”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout the daisies, sweetheart.” He smirks at you and you simply grin at him and huff a laugh in response as he shuffles down your body to pull your panties down your legs.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[tarjapearce]

Hello! Can we please have some more baby Rosie and Miguel fluff

Baby Cares with Miguel

Rosie Michelle O'Hara.

His eyes reread over and over the birth certificate. His third child, another sunshine in his life. There were no longer dark days, as they were buried just like his solitude, fifteen years back.

Looking at his daughter invaded him with such a strange yet overwhelming reaction. A piece of him and you, melded together and shaped in the form he was seeing like a total idiot.

A soft smile that widened as his baby yawned, eyes that would turn only soft and loving to you and your children, being the only worthy of his unbridled and unconditional love.

He had to rub his face to try and get the sappiness out, but to his little to no surprise, it didn't work. Rosie had your eyes shape, but his color and lips. She had your skin tone, but had Miguel's bushy eyebrows. Rosie had Miguel's stubbornness, but she had your way of worming out into his heart, just like you had done all those years ago and your pretty smile that always managed to disarm him.

To his eyes, his little flower, his Rosita Fresita, was perfect.

Even if she was looking at him with curious eyes while warm water doused her little head. Rosie was on a bee shaped sink, tepid water soaking her, her tiny hand wrapped around Miguel's wrist as her head snuggled on his wide and gentle hand. Smiling at him every time he spoke to her while he brushed the sudsy substance all over her pretty head full of waves and curls.

Her hair was the only part of her that was still deciding which part of your genes would win.

Her tongue peeked upon water splashing gently on her face to then turn into a little pout.

"What's wrong, cielito lindo? Water is getting cold?"

A coo as he lathered a tissue under her neck.

"Don't worry, mi niña. We're almost done."

His voice was like a lullaby for Rosie. Her eyes drooped lazily. The smile was back on as he hummed a little tune, she loved hearing him. Even before born, her fussing whenever Miguel spoke to her turned a bit more intense. Sometimes she kicked a bit too hard whenever you saw off Miguel to work. A silent yet powerful 'Papa, stay.'

Rosie loved Miguel's chest, It was yours and Gabi's favorite place to sleep. Benjamin always preferred his abdomen or his back as a personal pillow.

His baby was wrapped comfortably in a towel, the ever pondering rusty brown eyes stared at him as if asking him, 'What's next, Papa?'

Miguel propped Rosie in her crib carefully, to then look into her little closet. Drawers full of either pink, red and white clothes. He pulled out a pale pink onesie, with little flowers imprinted around it, her diaper and some sweet scented baby cologne.

Miguel pat dried Rosie, marveled at his own part of the creation, admiring his daughter for the umpteenth time.

"I know, I know I said the other pink, but this one looks better. Trust your Papa."

Another smile, his heart melted. He was lucky today to receive such gift. He poured some lotion and rubbed her arms, legs, tummy and under her neck, leaving a gentle and sweet strawberry fragrance on her.

He then changed her into the onesie and buttoned the little things, even if his fingers took what it felt forever in buttoning one, the results always left him speechless. He finished dressing her up with a lovely rose bandana on her hair.

Then, he proceeded with making her bottle. He pulled out one of the bags, filled with enough breast milk to preheat it to the right temperature to feed her. You were too exhausted to be awake, it's been a couple of days since you returned from the hospital, understandably so, you needed a break.

After all, you had prepared to shut down for a couple of days, letting him to handle it. And so far his job as a father had been wonderful.

Rosie's cheeks trembled as soon as she latched on the bottle. Her hand seemed to have taken a like to his wrist, like if she was anchoring to him. Finally holding on her dear Papa.

Miguel was sitting on the rocking chair, still while Rosie ate. Snuggled in a fraction of his strong and gentle arms, sucking the life out of that bottle that had no match against your warm and homey breast. Her eyes looked up while she ate. Admiring him. Taking in every fraction of his face.

So this is Papa.

Surely she'd say.

He didn't know how, but the non verbal communication always seemed an easy thing for him, and excelled whenever it came to babies.

"I know, you want your mother Mija, but she's exhausted." A little grunt in protest, Miguel laughed softly, "It's only temporary, I swear. Let Mama catch a break, ok?"

Her rising grunts were placated by a kiss on her forehead. Eventually, Rosie fell asleep after Miguel patted her back with such tenderness he'd never (even to this day) felt possible to achieve.

Her little burps sent a proud shimmy in his heart.

And now, he put her back to the crib, draping a blanket over her deep sleeping daughter.

"Que descanses, Rosita." (Rest well, Rosita)

[thelastofhyde]

a mercenary named time.

pairing. jackson!joel x fem!reader

synopsis. as joel begins to age, memories of sarah are beginning to fade. though he wants nothing more than to talk to you about his troubles, there's something standing in his way: he never told you about sarah.

warnings. this is more joel x sarah centric than joel x reader oops, hurt/comfort, ageing + difficulties that come with it, grief, mentions of death/religion/afterlife+ generally other sensitive topics, fluff, does this count as whump? (v minimum editing/proofreading)

word count. 4.9k

hyde’s input. wrote this as an attempt to distract myself from the fact i was on a plane (i hate flying). not much happens plot wise, and it just becomes me analyzing joel (in my own way) halfway through but hey, i wrote it and, though it's nowhere near perfect, i'm gonna post it!

due to the ties tlou has with zionism, here are helpful posts/links regarding the ongoing genocide in palestine. from the river to the sea. ( post, link, post )

Aging has become a threat again.

A part of him wonders if the threat ever truly left, or if it simply migrated south of his brain, chasing a warmth only leisure possesses, to make way for a survivalist winter’s cold. With the safety of walls and the sanctity of the commune, at last he’s caught on to the passing of time, the slow-crawling spider who spun its web into his skin. 

During the cold, there'd only been movement. Pacing down streets divided by those who live in fear and those who brandish riot gear, and tip-toeing past fungal-faced mutations, and stumbling in a daze of pain through snow to find her. A safety distance of unmarked miles, away from that hospital, is what it took for him to finally pull over, cut the engine and exhale. Out with the panic, and the urgency, and the fear. Ellie was there, laid across the back seats, a paper gown as blue as any April sky, a cursed relic upon her sleeping form, terrorising him with images of what could’ve been, had he failed to save her too.

In the warmth, there’s tranquillity. Stretched out legs upon worn out sofas, quiet hums of forgotten tunes on rescued guitars, tangled limbs on love-stained sheets. A home, a daughter, and a you, whatever you may be. A fallen angel, a summer fairy, a ray of sun. Any form you come from, he accepts it, welcomes it. Thanks it for bringing you to him, smelling fresh as a daisy, riding up next to him on his first patrol, smiling as sweet as the honey he’d eaten with his breakfast when you asked him if he needed help reigning in his horse.

No, he’d grunted more than spoken to you. And wound up flung off its back, ten paces later. From the ground staring up, he’d watched your face appear above him. Bitten back laughter, a stretched out hand, and a question of if he wanted to swap rides, take your mare for the day.

She’s far friendlier, you’d assured him, after he let you think it was your strength that pulled him back to his feet. Takes to strangers a little easier than him, you’ll be safe.

And he’d believed it, against his own nature.

Tommy had been the one to notice, to nudge him hours later and nod his head in your direction. Real sweetheart, ain’t she? Joel’d said nothing. Shrugged his shoulders, dipped his head, sipped the whiskey out his cup. Tracked your movement across the room like a hunter stalks its prey. Or, maybe, it was more like a bee examining a flower, wondering if the pretty vibrance of your outsides carried a match to your insides, if the taste of your soft petals was a great enough sweetness to satisfy a craving he’d long foregone.

Four months of observing later, spring came and he stung.

Since then, you’ve been his, whatever that may mean anymore.

He’d already been yours.

And yet he finds himself unable to tell you of his recent trouble, the emerging signs of his age that the needle of time has begun to stitch into his seams.

The greys that curl upon his head grow more frequent. Blink, and they seem to double. His skin stretches differently than before, at times it feels he wears it more than owns it. There’s aches, and pains, and cracks from his joints, where before there’d been numbness and tiredness. A back that refuses to straighten like it used to, no matter how hard he stretches under the fleeting warm drops of his morning shower.

A guilty conscience whispers in a voice much like Tess’, a memory of her telling him ageing means he’s still here, even if she’s not. It’s harder to find the good in it, anymore, when he has so much to lose again.

It’s his memory that scares him most. Like a photo album, the images within seem to fade with time and, the more he grabs at them, the more they wear away.

It started with something small. Forgetting you’d told him you would be heading over to visit Maria and the baby after your patrol shift, leading his heart to near beat out his chest as he raced down to the stables like some crazed man, rambling about how something’s happened to you, you’re not back, only for some kid- Jessie, a friend of Ellie’s- to tell him you came back hours ago. He’d pulled you a little tighter against him that night as you crawled into bed, the earlier unnecessary fear a little too visceral in his racing heart.

Then, it happened more often.

Ellie asked him to help her clean out the garage space for her, he forgot and agreed to cover someone’s turn cleaning the stables.

You told him of your love of mint tea, and instead he found you green.

Tommy asked him across the dinner table- a double date, a cause to debut Ellie’s first solo babysitting duties- if he remembered the name of that old bar they’d liked, and his mind was blank. Empty.

All of it, inconvenient. Yet he could brush it off, let it affect him only like a bruise: momentarily, till it faded.

Until recently.

Until the memories of her began to fade.

He’d woken up one morning, earlier than you like always. Kissed your sleeping face, creeped down the creaking staircase, switched on the stove to boil some coffee. And realised he could no longer remember what she’d liked better: pancakes or waffles.

A few weeks later, he tried recalling what shade of blue her soccer team’s kit was. Was it light blue? Or a darker blue, like fresh denim? Was it even blue at all?

Ellie asked him, the caution she used to bring towards mentioning her name long gone with the changing of seasons, if she’d liked any comic books. The sound of a runner, itching and twitching behind some fence interrupted before she could notice he didn’t have an answer.

Sure, she read. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught her curled up in bed, the light of her torch illuminating more than just the pages of a book, but her face, too expressive for her own good at times, reacting to each twist and turn of the story. Sometimes, he’d stand in that doorway, unnoticed, till her eyes dropped shut and the light rolled out her hand. Other times, he’d clear his throat, catch her off guard, and tell her get to bed, kiddo, or I’ll tell Mrs. Atkinson you’ll be round after school tomorrow.

What use is it, however, remembering all that, if he can’t remember if she liked comics?

He should talk to someone about it, he knows. He’d tried to, at first. Had tried to drink the courage into him, sat across Tommy one late night, sat around a fire as they settled in for a night in the ski lodge, stranded by some heavy snowfall. He failed then, just like he failed when he tried to tell Ellie, till she raced off to throw snowballs at some kids and he remembered she was too young to listen to his burden, too beaten by life already to deserve stress within the respite of Jackson’s sanctuary. When he failed a fourth time to speak to Tommy, the real issue dawned on him.

He wants to talk to you. You’re the one he talks to, the one he goes to bear his wounds to, trusting no other’s love but your own to patch him up and calm him down. There’s only one issue, however.

He’s not told you about Sarah.

It was never a conscious decision, some secret he’d chosen to hide. Speaking about her simply hurt and, after the arduous months of crossing the country with Ellie, finding a place to call home in Jackson, and learning to hold somebody close again, he’d wanted to get away from pain, for a little while.

Then came the first anniversary of her death spent inside the commune. He’d drank himself blind, like every year before. There’s a hazy memory of that night he’s glad to suppress, one where he’s covered in his own vomit and you’re struggling to hold his weight up under a pouring shower, the sounds of his sobs muffled into your soaked sweater. He’d awakened, and awaited the questioning. Expected to open his eyes and find you stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Seeing the room empty was a shock, but drifting slowly down the stairs and finding you scrubbing the stains out of his shirts near floored him. 

The very same shirt you wear now, curled up on the sofa. Your eyes are shut, legs are bare, and there’s a gentle breeze that blows at the curtains you’d hung up, your first act upon moving in with him.

With a careful step, he avoids the creaking floorboard as he crosses the threshold. Slow as he can, he lowers the bag off his shoulder and props it gently against the wall, careful it doesn’t slip and let its contents spill out. Then he works at his laces, undoes them one by one, loosens them so his feet meet no resistance as he steps out of them. The summer’s heat affords him the liberation from heavy coats, less layers to shed now he’s returned to you at last.

You lay right, he strays left. Towards the kitchen, footsteps light as he can manage. Two chairs are pulled out at the table, two bowls sit drying neatly by the sink. Ellie must’ve stopped by for dinner. He’s glad to know she’s eaten, glad to know you kept each other company, glad to know the light is off in the shed and her snoring fills the hollow space. And he’s glad to find some food for him. He takes a bite, lifts the plate, finds a note beneath. Your handwriting, what do Joel Miller and breakfast have in common? followed by an arrow, urging him to turn the page around. The answer’s there, weakening his ageing knees. I can’t start my day without them.

Back by the sofa, a book sits split open, spine broken and pages pressed into ageing wood. Its cover is faded, frayed, much like he feels himself becoming.

He recognises it as one he’d gifted you, seasons ago. If he tries hard enough, he can remember the snow collecting in his unruly hair as he waited at your doorstep, and the way your smile melted the chill away, and the mumbling fool he’d made of himself upon handing the present over to you, some version of said you were bored, so I found this for you all he managed before turning on his heel and striding back to his own home, ignoring the teasing smile upon Ellie’s face.

After all this time, you still have it. Still read it. The fact slows his heart, soothes his aching back. Suddenly, he’s more than ready to head back out there, beyond the walls of Jackson, if it means collecting more books for you to remember him by when he’s long gone and withered away, no more than a familiar smell stained into your sheets and a fading warmth in the palm of your hand.

Two loud pops sound out of his knees as he crouches down by your side, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses the closer he grows to your sleeping form. There’s a want, nestled deep inside his bones, to pull you into his arms and deliver you upstairs to a bed made for two, in search of a peace his soul has not found since he’d left for his shift in the early hours of the morning. It would be cruel, however, to wake you when you’re so beautiful.

Joel once thought he’d liked you best when you were smiling, till you’d fallen asleep on his porch one night, after hours of talking his ears off. Since then he’s liked you best sleeping, resting. Comfortable enough to trust his watchful eye to keep any harm away while your body takes back its much needed rest, even on days like this when he’s not physically there. You’ve got his shirt, his scent embedded into every thread of it, and that’s enough to keep you safe.

The rough of his fingertips reach out to graze the soft of your cheeks, gently dancing up to comb a few strands of damp hair away from your face. It seems you’ve gained your own spider, the faintest of lines beginning to take shape upon your skin. You wear it better than him, Joel thinks, the passing of time upon your body a picture of love, and prosperity, and hope for more time to come. He wears it like a burden, however. A death sentence, a timer on how long till the cold hand of Death takes the place of your warm one clasped in his.

Adjusting to a life he fears to leave has not been easy. There’d been a time where the promise of death was a comfort. To wake each day, reckless with his time and mindless to his body, a thought of all the pain, and all the sorrow, and that overwhelming, heavy, overbearing loneliness that hung over him like a storm cloud at last coming to an end and ceasing to exist, it had kept him going. Though faith died alongside her, a dream of reuniting with his babygirl on the other side was one he clung to on nights when no drop of alcohol and no unlabeled pill was enough to send him off to sleep. Death now, however, means parting from you, from Ellie, from Tommy. It no longer comforts so much as it disturbs him.

Would you comfort yourself, in the wake of his death, with dreams of reuniting someday, down the line, when Death takes you by the hand and guides you back to Joel?

He can only hope his babygirl can forgive the way he now longs to keep living, in spite of her waiting patiently for him in whatever comes after this life. Perhaps his failing memory is a consequence of this, a punishment she sends for making her wait even longer to feel his embrace again, slowly stealing away the only parts of her Joel has anymore.

Even in guilt, he can’t bring himself to believe his Sarah would do such a thing. Her heart was never touched by the bitterness that had hardened his own, her soul pure a freshly fallen snow.

I want you to be loved, dad. Echoes of her voice in his mind, words she’d confessed to him with teary eyes, a half-eaten birthday cake sitting between them, two candles, one in the shape of three, the other a zero, tossed messily on the table. There’d been no real fuss for his thirtieth, at his own insistence. Just his parents, his brother, his daughter. Those he loved, gathered around one table, eating away at food he’d made.

I’m already loved, kiddo. I got you, don’t I?

Joel knew what it meant to feel unloved. For a long time, that’s all he felt. The love only a child could gift died just as quickly in his arms as she had, under the watchful teary eyes of his brother. Grief he dragged around with him, dedicated to both her and the love he no longer felt.

First came denial. A steady 48 hours post-mortem, in which he walked ahead of Tommy and convinced himself she was there, a few feet behind him, talking her uncle’s ears off as he made sure to clear any oncoming threats The denial culminated in him bleeding down the side of his face, a missed bullet somewhere left behind, and Tommy’s pleading voice trying to move him forward, dragging him to tents set up by the army.

Eleven stitches, each one imbedding loss and cowardice into his screaming skin. The anger settled in a few days later. It made a home within Joel, latched onto his heart and began to beat in place of it. It changed him, aged with him, convinced him it was the only partner he’d ever need. A hopeful glimmer of bargaining came in the shape of Tess. But anger and all its roots were too deeply burrowed within Joel, unwilling to be weeded out, no matter how firm the hand. 

Complacency was far easier than any fight. Tommy left, the buzz of a firefly seducing him with the idea of better, of more, of a cure. Joel convinced himself things were easier without Tommy and his morals around. The routine of waking, struggling, drinking, passing out was one he practised well and thoroughly. Till Marlene and her suicide mission.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Ellie, with all her snark, and her crass words, and her humourless puns, reminded Joel how it  felt to be loved. Laid upon his chest, a need for warmth and a plea for him to survive, she became the closest thing that felt like Sarah in twenty years. How could Marlene expect him to walk away, to leave her in that hospital?

Pain rushes in like a wave meets the shore, dampening him in a melancholy he saves for whiskey. Still resting peacefully on the sofa, your chest rises slow, steady, and constant. He tries to mimic it, matching his own breathing to it. It reminds him of dancing with you in the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested, arms entangled and forehead pressed to forehead, doing his best to stay in sync with your gentle sways.

The floorboards creek the further his aching body sinks to the floor. Like a man meets the altar, he’s on his knees. Blunt fingernails dig into the worn out brown leather of the couch, the only grip he has on reality. 

A discombobulated memory dances across his mind. One of a much younger him, with a head full of brown locks and a sleeping daughter upon his couch. Outbreak night. He’d been peacefully unaware of the happenings outdoors, happy to turn another year older next to his Sarah, when a call came through. His brother, dumped in some jail-cell and begging for release. He’d not thought it through much, sighing in frustration yet rising slowly to his feet nonetheless. If he’d known how that night would end, he’d have held his daughter a little tighter as he carried her to bed, he’d have left every kiss he could afford against her forehead, and speak every I love you he had left in him.

Grief is a river that travels the mountain of his mind. Strong, cold, descending upon a downward slope. Its currents are unforgiving, grabbing a hold of anything that blocks the path. Too easy is it for him to slip and fall into the rapids, losing hold of his footing on reality before he realises he’s struggling to breath and there’s a whole new river carving a way for itself out his eyes and down his cheeks. 

His eyes close. His breath halts. He tries to remember those breathing exercises, the same ones he uses any time the pain swells too much and the panic begins to attack his nervous system. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Choke down a sob. Slow breath out. Joel. He pictures you, feet upon solid ground, hand stretched out as you try to goad him out the trepid waters of his grief. Joel. This image of you reminds him he’s got a name, got a life, got a purpose. To help Tommy on patrols. To make sure Ellie always has a place to call home. To keep you warm in the winter, and kissed during spring, and safe no matter where the sun may sit. Joel. The tears fall faster. Messier. He’s no longer a quiet companion at your side, but a mess of ragged breathing and nose sniffles. 

“Joel?”

Skin to skin. Soft hand to wet cheek. You’re awake faster than he can process, too quick to wipe tears or feign smiles. Legs scramble off the couch, parted and bent at the knee on either side of him. Musk, and lilies, and every scent that makes him feel safe and close to you envelop the shared space between you.

“Joel, baby, what’s wrong?” Your thumb swipes uselessly at his cheeks, fresh waves rolling out his eyes before you finish wiping the last. Sleep is written all over you, woven into your breathy voice and weighing down the bags of your eyes. He feels a whole new wave of guilt, waking you from such a peaceful slumber with the sight of him and all his ailments bursting out the frayed seams that hold him together.

He thinks he says your name. It’s hard to tell. The blurred image of you through his teary eyes inspires a heavy burden of disappointing you that he can not cope with, and so he ducks his head between your legs, forehead pressing on the inside of your left thigh. His breath is short, his heart is sore, and he’s staining your delicate skin with his pain. You let him grieve upon you, pull him closer. A hand soothes up his back. Your voice tells him it’s okay, and you hum a sweet tune he’s sure he’s played you many a drunken nights, when the confidence kicks in and he’s serenading you with his country twang and guitar strings.

There’s no prying, no demand to rightfully know why you’ve awoken to your lover, steadfast and stoic at his worst, collapsing into your hold. You let him cry. He lets you hold him. You’re all he’s been missing, this feeling of support he’s denied himself for far too long. No fear of your judgement, but fear of pulling you in amongst the dangerous currents alongside him. 

An anchor comes in the shape of your fingers carding through his unruly hair, a tether that pulls him back into the living room, into your home, into you. With the patience of any saint, you let him move at his own pace, head slowly rising from your thigh, back straightening to the best of its abilities. His hand, rough and hardened by time and grit and survival, paws at your thigh, clumsy in its attempts to dry his tears off of you, a fear of it sinking into your skin and some part of his sadness taking root inside your bloodstream.

Your hand stills his, gently, coercing his fingers to thread with your own as your other hand cups his face and guides him to look at you. You're beautiful, in a way that makes Joel wish he was better with words so he could spend the rest of his days finding new ways to tell you so. Instead, he has to settle with a simple, “my pretty girl.” You smile, bashful, as if that’s enough, as if you don’t deserve more.

“Hello to you too, handsome.” You peck his cheek, he chases after you with his mouth. Two small pecks, a third he fails to achieve as you hold him back. “Don’t think you can distract me with those perfect lips of yours, Miller. I’m worried about you, and no amount of kisses are gonna change that.”

He refocuses on his breathing exercises. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. No sob this time. Slow breath out. Your gaze, soft as a cloud, rests over him gently, your own chest rising and falling in sync with him. With every night he’d lay awake, trying to think of how to bring up Sarah and the details of her he’s failing to hold onto, never did he imagine the weight to fly off his chest so easily with just a supportive smile from you.

“I had someone before, who I loved.” He pauses. Clears his throat, shifts his weight. His knees are beginning to ache the longer they sit digging into the hard floor. He should have listened to your advice of scavenging a rug. “Not how I love you. Like I love Ellie.”

Silence.

Not the kind where you hear a pin drop, but one that allows the laughter of children playing down the street to blow in with the breeze, and the creaking of the old house you’ve both made a home, and the squeaks and chirps of wild-life continuing on outside, unaffected by the end of civilisation.

Then, “I know.” Joel’s eyes widen, disbelief painted across them. “Tommy’s let it slip a few times. Just when we’re on patrol and he sees something that reminds him of her. Or he’s telling me a story that’s sole purpose is to embarrass you.” A part of him wants to feel angry at his younger brother, stealing his right to reveal such a large part of who he is. The other part of him feels for him too, a reminder that Sarah’s loss is not one he tackled all by himself. She was his daughter, but she was also Tommy’s niece. How could he blame him for feeling comfortable enough to share his grief with you? “Ellie also mentioned it, once. Back before you and I were really…” You fall silent, trail off, as you both usually do when faced with tackling the task of labelling what exists between you.

“Why,” he chooses to distract himself from it, scared of a world where he asks for the right to claim himself as your husband. Those things don’t matter anymore, with the world gone to shit, but a man could still dream. “Didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s your story to tell, I didn’t want to force it out you. I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

He may not know how to label what you are to him, but he knows he loves you. God, does he love you.

“Thank you, darlin’, I really-” He’s getting choked up, caught between his grief for Sarah and his love for you. You seem to understand, as you always do, hands slowly pulling and coercing him up onto the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “Can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve nothing to thank me for.” You promise, sealing it into his skin with a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t like to see you cry, Joel, but I prefer you do it in front of me. Don’t hide parts of yourself. I want all of you. Good, bad, and everything in between.”

There’s the urge to let himself fall into the river again, now that you’ve pulled him ashore and attached yourself to him like a life vest, an oath to never let him drown. He feels his eyes well-up, but doesn’t let them fall, as his mouth runs ahead of his mind and at last confesses the troubles he’s been keeping close to his chest.

“It used to be like this every day. Tears, unless I numbed myself free of consciousness. Then, things got better. With Ellie and you around. Anytime I felt the anger or the pain swelling, you’d be there and there’d be room for laughter. But I’m getting older, darlin’. Memories’ not the same. There’s things about my babygirl, my Sarah, that I just… can’t remember. And it scares me. Scares me so bad that I don’t know how to cope with it. If I ever woke up and couldn’t remember her face, it would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

He speaks slowly. You cling to every word, a gentle nod lets him know you understand. A part of him wonders how deep that understanding runs, if you too had lost a child. He wants to afford you the same grace you’ve given in, and so he doesn’t pry. If you have a story to tell, he can only hope to still be around to listen.

Oblivious to the thoughts of you holding a faceless child swirling around in his head, you pull Joel into you, encouraging him to let you hold his frame. You’ve told him countless times he needs to let himself be cared for, a spark that ignited many  arguments in the early days of your love. It feels nice to comply at last, head drifting down to rest on your steady shoulder. Your legs curl up onto the couch, lay gently over his own, as an arm wraps itself around his aching back.

Only like this does Joel feel he’s finally arrived home after weeks of wading through the depths of his own sorrows, evading a bounty placed upon him by time.

Joel is ageing. Everyday, a new line appears on his face. Every year, a new ache burrows in his bones. But, if each moment he can feel your love in acts of kindness, and left-over meals, and sleepy limbs upon a shared mattress, it doesn’t feel as daunting. He wonders what awaits him in the afterlife, when he and Sarah reunite as he so hopes. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that she’d be proud of him for finding solace in a heart like yours.

“Tell me about her.” You plead to him something he’s spent years longing to do.

Without missing a beat, words flow easily and memories play on in his head, his precious daughter no longer blurry in a haze, but fully in focus, smiling wide at him with a mouthful of food.

“She loved pancakes.”

[sansaorgana]

would benny be a girl dad or a boy dad?

either way I can see him getting teaching his child (let's say 5 year old) how to ride a bike because they want to be just like their dad but benny knows the dangers of a motorcycle and the heart attack it would give his wife (reader) so they just settled on a regular bike.

what about girl dad benny who's daughter has a pink bicycle with a little flower wicker basket in the front

hi! 😌 honestly, I don't know. I can imagine him as a girl dad and a boy dad equally, although I assume he didn't have a good father growing up, so being a boy dad could terrify him a little... anyway, dad!Benny is apparently something I really enjoy writing because I loved every moment of it 🥰 before someone points it out – yes, he's drinking beer & smoking cigarettes with the kid around and yes, his wife (the Reader) is the one responsible for cooking and cleaning around the house (she has a job, too) – it's the 70s, okay? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

The garage where Benny worked as a mechanic was closed every Sunday but the store where you worked part-time was open every day of the week and sometimes they were asking you to show up on the weekends – especially when one of your co-workers was sick – but you didn’t mind it that much since they were paying more for working on Sunday. Today they wanted you for only one six hour long shift anyway so you would handle that with no problem.

In the morning, you prepared breakfast for everybody and went upstairs to change into your work clothes and to put light makeup on. When you went downstairs, Benny and Rosie were sitting on the couch together and watching cartoons. Your five years old daughter was curled up and rested her head on Benny’s chest as they both laughed at something silly.

“I’m leavin’,” you announced but they didn’t even turn around to look at you. You sighed. “I’m leavin’,” you repeated as you leaned in to give Benny a kiss on the cheek. Then you gave one to your daughter. “Don’t let her watch TV for too long,” you furrowed your brows at your husband. “I’m gonna bring dinner with me but you can make sandwiches,” you reminded him.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Benny mumbled.

“Be careful, mummy!” Rosie waved her hand at you and you waved back with a wide smile before leaving the house.

When the door behind you closed, Rosie moved even closer to her daddy as she sighed.

“Daddy?” She looked up.

“Hm?” Benny asked as he put his arm around her and caressed her back.

“But I want to watch cartoons all day long,” she pouted and Benny chuckled before looking down at her face.

“Yeah, I know, baby, but they don’t show ‘em all day long,” he pointed out.

“What are we gonna do then?” Rosie whined.

“Dunno,” Benny shrugged his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” Rosie’s eyes sparkled and Benny nodded – unsurely, though. “Can I colour your tattoos?” She made puppy eyes at him.

“Yeah,” Benny sighed but with a loving smile.

Rosie clapped her hands, forgetting the cartoon on the TV immediately. She kissed Benny’s cheek and scrunched her nose at the itchy feeling of his facial hair before she jumped out of the couch but then, she froze.

“Wait, do you go to work tomorrow, daddy?” She asked, concerned. Benny nodded at that. “Well, maybe then no colouring…”

“It’s fine,” Benny chuckled. 

They had learnt already that one shower was not enough to get those marker pens out of his skin.

“I don’t mind it, baby,” he assured her and she smiled again, widely. Then she ran upstairs to her room for the set of marker pens that you had given her for her birthday.

Benny changed the channel on TV since Rosie wasn’t interested in watching cartoons anymore. He switched to some football game and went to the kitchen to grab a beer. You would usually scold him for starting so early but you weren’t home.

When he went back to the living room, Rosie was already taking out the marker pens out of the box. Benny sat down on the couch and opened the can of beer with a wink.

“Don’t tell mummy ‘bout it, huh?” He chuckled and Rosie pretended to zip her mouth. “Good girl,” he patted her head and focused on the game on TV.

Rosie sat next to him and took one of his arms to colour the tattoos. She was trying to do a good job with it and not to cross over the lines. She was so focused on that task that she stuck out her tongue a little and her brows furrowed.

“You know what tattoo is my favourite, daddy?” She asked suddenly.

Benny, who had been lost in the game, immediately focused on his daughter’s question instead.

“Which one, dollie?” He asked.

“The rose, of course!” Rosie giggled. “It’s for me!” She exclaimed proudly and picked up a pink marker pen to fill in her favourite tattoo with her favourite colour.

“Um…,” Benny looked at her, concerned, and her hand froze in the air. “Could you… Choose a different colour perhaps? I’ve told you already I don’t want no pink on me,” he reminded her and Rosie sighed.

She looked down and started to look for a different marker pen.

“Why don’t you like pink, daddy?” Rosie asked.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. But it’s for girls,” Benny explained as he took a sip of his beer. “Men don’t wear pink.”

“Elvis had a pink cadillac!” Rosie pointed out. “And you have a tattoo of a rose. It’s girly, too,” she added and picked up a green marker pen.

“Okay, alright,” Benny sighed, giving up. “Paint it pink, I don’t care,” he shrugged his arms.

“Really?” Rosie looked up with widened eyes and a big grin.

“Yeah. If someone says something, I’m gonna remind ‘em who’s the boss around,” he laughed and Rosie squealed out of happiness before changing the maker pen for the pink one again.

“You’re the best, daddy!” She hugged him before starting to colour the rose tattoo.

Benny smiled to himself and went back to watching the game on TV. Those words coming from his daughter meant more than anything else to him.

When the game was over, Benny was already covered in colourful drawings. Rosie not only had coloured his already existing tattoos but also added a few new ones – for example a ginger cat she really wanted to own. She had no idea you and Benny planned to adopt one for Christmas as a surprise.

“My second favourite tattoo is this one,” she pointed with her little finger at a heart with a ribbon on it. And on the ribbon there was your name. “The one for mummy.”

“Your favourites are my favourites, too,” Benny smiled at her and opened his arms. Rosie crawled upon his lap and hugged her daddy tight. “You hungry, baby?” He asked and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Nah,” Rosie shook her head and scrunched her nose. “Can we play outside?”

“Sure. What you wanna do?” Benny patted her back.

“I want you to show me on the motorbike,” Rosie looked up with a pleading look. Benny laughed at that.

“No way.”

“But daddy…” Rosie whined.

“Rose, your mother’s gonna kill me,” Benny told her.

“She won’t find out!” Rosie promised.

Benny contemplated it for a moment but eventually agreed with a sigh. Rosie left his lap and ran outside and Benny stood up and went to the garage. He opened the door first and saw Rosie already waiting on the driveway while she kept dancing around happily.

He glanced at his Harley with a hint of melancholy. It was not like he wasn’t driving it at all anymore but these days his motorbike rides were rare. Next to the Harley there was his car parked and that vehicle was simply more useful when you had a family and a kid.

His good, old Harley. Benny patted it lovingly. He was grateful to you that you had not wanted him to sell it. Even when you had been kinda broke and needed money for the house. You had told him it would be fine without selling it. You knew the importance of this motorbike for him. And you knew how much it would devastate your husband if he had to sell it.

“Come here,” Benny waved at Rosie and she ran up to him, excitedly. “You can sit on it,” he told her but her smile dropped.

“No, daddy! I want to ride it! And outside, not inside the garage!” Rosie insisted and Benny sighed.

“Do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Yeah! I’m your daughter!” Rosie pointed out with a grin. “And mummy’s, too! You’re both stubborn as a pair of mules!”

“Rosie…” Benny scolded her as he gave her an unpleasant look.

“What? That’s what you are like whenever you’re fighting!” Rosie rolled her eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Benny gave up already. “Move away now,” he told her and she took a few steps back to watch in awe as he jumped onto the motorbike and started it with an aggressive kick. He kept looking behind to make sure she wouldn’t suddenly jump ahead and get hurt.

Benny drove outside to stop on the driveway and beckoned Rosie over. She followed him, curiously.

“You have to hold me very, very tight, you hear me?” Benny explained as he was helping her to sit behind him. He already regretted his decision to agree to this madness.

“I hear you, daddy!” Rosie promised and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m not gonna drive fast and we’re only gonna be riding up and down the street once. Don’t ask for more,” Benny told her.

“Okay!” She exclaimed happily.

Benny took a deep breath in and left the driveway to enter the street – slowly and carefully. He ended up driving with one hand as he kept his other one on Rosie, just in case her grip turned out to be not strong enough.

“I love it already, daddy!” He heard her giggle and that sound was like honey being poured onto his heart.

When they made one round, she asked for another and then another and another. Benny just couldn’t say no.

You left the bus with a takeout dinner still warm in the bag you were carrying. The day was nice and sunny so you weren’t hurrying to go back home. Your walk was slow and steady as you admired the trees and the sky and the sound of children playing in the background.

After a while, you furrowed your brows at the sound that was oddly familiar. No, it could not be… It could not be the sound of the engine of Benny’s motorbike, could it?!

You picked up your pace and when you finally approached your street, you froze at the sight of Benny driving his motorbike with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he was laughing. Rosie was sitting behind him and giggling while her legs were swinging in the air. You got dizzy at the sight.

Yeah, Benny was driving very slow and he was keeping one of his hands on Rosie just in case… But still, it was dangerous.

“Benjamin Cross!” You yelled and they both froze at the sight of you as their eyes widened in fear. It was nearly funny how much they looked alike at the moment – a father and daughter indeed.

Benny stopped the engine immediately and you could see his face got a shade paler. He mumbled something to Rosie and she jumped out of the motorbike before running towards you to give you a hug.

“Mummy!” She greeted you with a smile. “I made daddy show me how to ride a bike!”

“I could see that,” you smiled fakely at her and then gave Benny a deadly look. He was slowly driving back towards the house and inside the opened garage.

You took Rosie by her hand and dragged her behind you as you followed your irresponsible husband.

“Don’t be angry, mummy!” Rosie started as she felt your annoyance. “We were careful,” she assured you. “And it was not like daddy wanted to! I had to convince him!” 

You didn’t answer and just waited outside the house as Benny parked his motorbike and closed the garage door before joining you awkwardly. He was avoiding looking into your eyes.

“You been driving around with a little kid in the back, risking your lives, while the garage door was open all this time?” You asked him and he looked down.

You sighed and squeezed Rosie’s hand tighter before going inside the house. Benny put out his cigarette on the ground and followed you.

You let go of Rosie’s hand and went to the living room to be able to get inside the kitchen where you wanted to put the takeaway dinner but then you spotted a mess in the living room.

“What is that?!” You gasped at the sight of the marker pens scattered everywhere. And on the coffee table there were two empty cans of beer.

You turned around, even more angry than before. Both Benny and Rosie looked down.

“Rosie, put the marker pens inside the box and take them upstairs to your room where their place is,” you told your daughter. “And wash your hands before dinner.”

“Yes, mummy,” she sighed and rushed to do what she was told to.

To Benny, however, you didn’t speak a word. You just gave him a dirty look and went to the kitchen to unpack the dinner.

He followed you with the empty cans of beer and threw them inside the trashcan before washing his hands in the kitchen sink. They were dirty from the grease.

“You’re fucking irresponsible,” you scolded him, trying to keep your voice low.

“I am not, we were careful,” Benny tried to explain himself but you ignored him.

“And the beer… Jesus, Benny. I’ve been telling you not to drink before noon at least, yeah? You think I’m gonna tolerate you drinking that shit right after breakfast?” You shook your head.

“I don’t do that every day,” Benny reminded you and looked at you like a beaten dog.

You tried to keep an angry face on for a moment longer before finally cracking a smile and opening your arms to give him a hug.

“Benny, baby,” you kissed his cheek and caressed his hair as he wrapped his arms around you. “I nearly had a heart attack back there, seeing Rosie on that goddamn bike.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, but she kept convicin’ me and I wanted to make her happy,” he explained and you sighed. Then you smiled, noticing the colours on his tattoos.

“Just don’t do that again, please,” you pleaded as you moved away to cup his face and look into his pretty baby blue eyes. “If something happened to either of you… I’d go crazy, Benny.”

“I know,” Benny cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Rosie ran inside the kitchen that very moment and she hugged your waist.

“Mummy, don’t be angry at daddy, it’s my fault!” She tried to defend him. It was adorable. You caressed her hair.

“No, baby. Daddy’s an adult so it was his fault. But it’s okay now,” you assured her. “That won’t happen again, just so you know. No more riding a motorbike,” you told her and she pouted but didn’t try to fight you.

“Show me your hands, baby,” Benny looked down and Rosie showed him. They were still quite dirty from some marker pens and some grease. Benny chuckled at that and shook his head. “Come on, we gotta clean them better,” he picked her up to help her access the kitchen sink as she began to scrub her hands under the stream of warm water with the help of the dishwashing liquid and you focused on dividing dinner into portions.

On the next day you weren’t working and you allowed Rosie to skip kindergarten. When you were at home, there was no point in sending her there and you enjoyed spending time with your daughter. She was helping you to clean the house since you couldn’t do that on the previous day due to your shift at the store.

Around five, you were preparing the dinner with the help of Rosie while listening to the songs on the radio and singing along together when you heard Benny’s car parking on the driveway. You looked out of the window and waved at him. He waved back and Rosie squealed excitedly, leaving all the vegetables she was supposed to chop behind as she ran outside the house.

You shook your head with a chuckle and wiped your hands in your apron before walking outside as well to see Rosie jumping into her daddy’s arms. Benny hugged her and patted her back.

“I got somethin’ for ya, baby,” he told her. “Your own bike,” he added and your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” You crossed your arms and approached them two. Rosie was excitedly clapping her hands and you put your hand on her shoulder. “You being serious, Benny?”

“Just wait and see,” Benny chuckled and opened the trunk of the car before taking something out of it.

That something was a small pink bicycle with a little flower wicker basket in the front that made you gasp an oh as your heart fluttered at the sight. Rosie squealed and began to jump around out of happiness.

“Thank you, daddy, thank you, daddy, thank you!” She was repeating over and over.

Benny’s face lit up at the sight of her happiness. He opened his arms and she gave him a big hug again.

“We gotta make sure it’s good for ya, come here,” he put his hand on Rosie’s shoulder to walk her up to the bike. “Stand here,” he pointed at the ground next to the bike to adjust the height of the bike’s saddle. “Yeah, perfect,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m tired today, so I’m gonna park it right in the garage and we can try it out some other day, okay?”

“Yeah! I can wait!” Rosie nodded and then she turned around to look at you. “Mummy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you angry that I have my own bike?” She bit on her lower lip and you chuckled before ruffling her hair.

“No, love. It’s just a bicycle and it’s very pretty. I’m very happy that you have it and that daddy will show you how to ride it, yeah?” You bopped her on the nose and her eyes sparkled. “Benny!” You shouted after him as he was inside the garage. “We’re going back inside. Dinner’s almost ready,” you told him and you took Rosie back inside.

You finished preparing everything and you put it inside the oven before letting Rosie go to her room to play for a while before the meat and vegetables would be ready. When she was upstairs, you joined Benny on the couch. He was watching TV as usual after work and you put your arm around him to play with his hair. He hummed at your touch while the muscles of his shoulders relaxed.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you told him and took his hand into your free one. He lazily turned his head around to look at you. “The bike and everything… You’re such a good daddy,” you whispered.

“Yeah, who would have thought, huh?” He chuckled and looked down.

“That’s not what I meant,” you squeezed his hand. “But… It had to cost a lot, that bike,” you swallowed thickly.

You loved your life with Benny and your little family. You were happy but it was no secret that money was something you often struggled with. 

“It’s fine,” Benny nodded. “I promise ya.”

“Well, okay then,” you sighed and lowered your head to put it on his shoulder. Benny caressed your back and kissed the top of your head. “I love you, Benny.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” he answered with a smile. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You furrowed your brows.

“For everything,” Benny shrugged his arms. “For saying yes and I do, for givin’ me Rosie, for savin’ my life.”

“I didn’t save your life, Benny,” you caressed his chest gently. “You saved your life on your own when you made your decision to settle down.”

It was something you two would never agree on. Benny kept insisting you were his saviour and you wanted him to finally realise that he could be a good man on his own as well and not only because of your love and presence or because of Rosie’s existence.

But what mattered the most in the end was that you loved each other and you were happy.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[externalmemorycomic]

Image description: a five page comic with messy writing and messy line drawings coloured with gouache. Each page has four panels and each panel has a caption and an image. Page one Caption: Mouse and Ruth go for drives a lot. Image: a red car drives down a country road. Caption: to stores and beaches and the dump where you can find cool things. Image: a white mouse looks up at a wall with doll’s heads nailed to it, labeled “wall of dolls”. Caption: I almost never join. Ruth asks, “isn’t My going stir crazy?” Image: a deer is driving a car, and the mouse sits on a pile of pillows on the passenger’s seat. Caption: but I’m so used to this I forget there’s anything to go crazy about Image: an orange cat lies in bed.

Page two Caption: When we lived in Malmö there were weeks I didn’t leave the apartment Image: the cat peeks out a window, looking at a pigeon that’s pooping on the window ledge. Caption: months I didn’t see anyone besides Mouse. I just couldn’t manage the stairs Image: the cat looks down an exaggerated, maze-like staircase. Caption: Mouse wasn’t much better off. I took up indoor “gardening” so we wouldn’t miss nature too much. Of course I often couldn’t water the plants. It felt bitter and symbolic when they died Image: the cat is in a different bed, looking at a house plant on a side table that’s beginning to wilt. Caption: here there’s no stairs and I have plants and bees right outside my window Image: the cat is in the first bed, drawing a comic. There’s a flower, a butterfly and a bee outside the window behind it.

Page three Caption: people tend to get frustrated with my acceptance Image: the cat takes down a half finished painting from an easel. Caption: even after we’ve talked a lot about my illness, they think I should plan ahead as if a cure is right around the corner Image: a rabbit is standing beside a table covered in unfinished canvases, looking at  one of them. The cat stands behind them, looking nervous. Caption: often it’s the same people who respond to tragedies you CAN fix by saying “life’s not fair” Image: the cat is rescuing bugs from drowning in a water barrel and the rabbit looks over its shoulder, looking annoyed. Caption: but when I let go of what I can’t have, they see it as defeat. Image: the cat is curled up and hiding in bed while the rabbit stands over them, frowning, holding the unfinished painting and waving two paintbrushes.

Page four Caption: I understand the impulse to say “maybe some day”. When it’s kindly meant, I value the intention. Image: The rabbit has its arm around the cat’s shoulder and waves towards a thought bubble. In the thought bubble the cat is floating and happy at the end of a rainbow with pink clouds, flowers and a smiling sky in the background. Caption: but few things are more dangerous to my soul than “maybe some day” Image: the cat huddles on the ground and hides its face. Right above the cat, as if pushing down, is a bigger thought bubble with images of the cat looking happy - dancing, being held, proudly painting, holding a baby. Caption: There is no greater wisdom in life than: fix what you can and accept what you can’t. Image: the thought bubble is breaking up and shrinking. The cat is sitting up, smiling at a dandelion beside it. Caption: some times, giving up isn’t just the only way to survive but to thrive, and leave room for joy. Image: The half finished canvases are burning on the ground and the cat walks away without looking back.

Page five Caption: today I’m sad because I’m in pain and I miss moving and doing Image: the cat is crying in bed. Caption: but when I thank God for giving me this life filled with blessings, it’s from the heart. Image: the cat wipes away some tears and looks a little happier. Caption: I am happy more often than not. I mostly cry from gratitude. There is no contradiction Image: the cat closes its eyes and is surrounded by a pink glow and red cartoon hearts. Caption: life will ask me to let go of much bigger things and maybe I can come with to the dump next time Image: the cat looks at the wall of dolls and says: “cool!” End ID. Here's some disability thoughts I had during my latest flare (hence the wobblier-than-usual lines and messy writing). I hope it makes sense even if I was pretty confused when I made it! I have POTS and ME/CFS, as well as ADHD and being autistic. Accepting the reality of being bed/housebound and hard-of-thinking often is going to be a life long effort but I'm getting there. Happy disability pride month!!! Reblogs are much appreciated! (if you wanna help me live and stuff and make more art and comics I have a Patreon. I post comic pages there on average once a day for the 3€ tier as well as other fun things! Link in my pinned post)

[narrycherries]

🌼like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do🌼 part 7 (dadrry)

You and Harry celebrate a birthday and.. a new baby?

masterlist

word count: 3k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, fluff, dadrry

You were running around the house trying to tend to the guests as Harry kept an eye on the baby. Today was the celebration of her big day, which was actually tomorrow. It was hard for you to believe your baby was now a year old. It felt like yesterday you saw that first positive pregnancy test.

The gathering was by no means large. It was mostly your close family and friends. It could’ve been a group of five people and you’d still freak out and overthink every single thing.

Harry had some catering done for the party. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but a variety of foods that would make everyone happy. The theme of the party was centered around flowers. Vivian loves flowers so much. One of her favorite things to do is play outside and pick the tiny flowers out of the grass. Even when you have a bouquet on the dining table, she reaches for them and wants to push her face into them - her way of smelling them, you assumed. She loves colorful things, and flowers have always amazed her.

A few of your friends had small children, so Vivian was occupied by playing with them on the living room floor. Harry was sitting on the couch behind her, watching her closely to make sure she didn’t put anything in her mouth or get hurt by the toddlers. They wouldn’t intentionally do anything to her, but they were more mobile and rough than she was. Your mom was sitting next to him, a smile on her face as she watched the kids play.

“Still no plans for a second baby?” She was partially joking and being serious at the same time.

Harry laughed, slightly nervous, and shook his head. “Not right now, no. She’s still got a lot of growing up to before we get to that point.”

“Has her anxiety gotten better?”

That was still a sensitive topic for him to discuss, but he knew he wouldn’t be criticized by your mom. He wiped his palms on his thighs and let out a deep breath. Your mom could tell he was a little anxious about her asking that.

“Yeah. She’s definitely improved. We’re working on it.”

“She’s such a good baby.” Your mom leaned up, resting her chin in her hand as she watched them. “They just take her toys away and she just watches them.”

Harry glanced around, trying to find you, but he had no luck. “She’s gentle.. she’s not really selfish with her toys.”

You were in the kitchen now, trying your best to keep things cleaned up and organized. There were cupcakes for the guests that were covered in flowers made from icing. The baby had her own small cake that she would get to destroy soon. There was a mix of faux and real flowers decorating the kitchen and living room. You wanted to make sure everything was cute but not overdone. Besides, she’s just a year old, she won’t remember the details. But pictures and videos will be taken, so having everything straightened out was a priority.

There was a spot on the counter you had designated for the bottles of water to sit on and you noticed they were depleting. You grabbed some out of the fridge and started filling in the empty space on the counter. Just as you turned around, Harry appeared in front of you, making you jump and throw your hand over your chest.

“Harry.” You sighed out as you realized it was just him.

He chuckled while taking hold of your waist to pull you closer. “What are you doing in here, busy bee?”

“Trying to keep everything flowing.” You looked over your shoulder at the water bottles. You were satisfied with how many you had gotten out. “Where’s Viv?”

“She’s playing.” He nodded his head towards the living room.

You pushed your hand through your hair, shoving it out of your face. Even though you spent time curling it before the party started, you didn’t care how it looked at this point. Harry noticed how tired you seemed to be, and he didn’t want you to overwork yourself during what’s supposed to be a fun and relaxed time.

“Hey, stop doing all these little things and come in here with us.”

You shook your head as your hand went up to his neck. “Someone has to keep it cleaned and organized.”

He gave you a slight cock of his eyebrow. “Your mom already told you she’d do all that.”

“Harry, please don’t.. start.”

“I’m not trying to argue, baby. I just don’t want you disappearing so much.. You’re going to miss the little moments.”

Hearing him say that was heart breaking. You looked down at his chest and started chewing on your cheek. He gave you a squeeze, but you ignored him and tried your best to hold in your tears. This was an issue you had been silently facing for the past few days, and especially since this morning. Your baby was growing up and you wanted her first party to be perfect, even if it wasn’t going to be a huge ordeal. You wanted this to be placed in a spot and that to be arranged a certain way - everything had to be perfect.

The fear of missing out on your child’s life is something you’ve had to face since the day she was born. You never wanted to miss a moment with her, big or small, and right now you were risking that. Sure, the kitchen was a little messy from the food and the decorations, and the living room was loud and full of people - but it wasn’t a big deal.

“Has she.. has she been okay? I.. don’t want her to think I left her.” You asked with a tear threatening to fall from your eye.

Harry slid his arms all the way around you, forcing you into his embrace. You huffed as your bodies collided and he held you as tight as he could. You wanted to pause the entire day and just relax for a moment. Your mind was racing with thoughts and worries and your heart was struggling to keep up. This was a special day, and you felt like you had missed it.

“She’s been fine, I promise.” He assured you with a kiss to your temple. “She’s been playing and, well, mostly watching the other kids play.”

You pouted as you leaned back, your eyes finding his. “Watching them?”

He smiled. “You know our little bug is shy.”

“They’re not being mean, are they?”

Harry laughed a little. “No, they’ve been nice to her. She’s just.. curious but too shy to play with them.”

“My poor baby. She’s so tiny and quiet.”

He grinned back. “She’s observant.. she’ll be a leader one day.”

“And everyone else.. are they having an okay time?” Your worry was still evident, but you were starting to calm down some.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. They’ve been asking about you.” He lifted his brows and gave you a look. “Join us and stop working so hard.”

“I will-“

You were interrupted by the sudden sound of a balloon popping followed by familiar screaming. Harry furrowed his brows before untangling himself from you and hurrying to see what happened. You followed behind him, sort of on edge as the sound of Vivian’s crying echoed through the house. You could hear people trying to soothe her, but it wasn’t working.

Harry ran over to your mom, who was holding your screaming baby. He carefully took her and walked away from the crowd in the living room. She cried into his shoulder as he rubbed her back. The sight made you frown. He met you by the stairs and shook his head in disbelief. She was screaming like something was terribly wrong.

“Hey, hey, shh.” You said in a calm voice as you gently touched the back of her head. “Vivy, it’s okay, baby girl.”

“Ma ma.” She said through her cries, tears flooding her eyes and spit covering Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey, you’re okay, my sweet love. Da da’s got you, hm? You’re okay.” You pressed a kiss to her forehead, but she was still very upset.

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Harry said in a whisper, trying to get her to relax but his voice wasn’t enough right now. “Daddy will get rid of all those scary balloons, yeah? How dare they do that to you, princess.”

You smiled at words and let your hand fall to cover his. “If Daddy has it his way, you’ll never have balloons at your parties ever again.”

He chuckled and adjusted her so that she was sitting up. She realized you were right there, so she was content with the new position. You held your hands out for her and she gladly leaned towards you. Harry smiled as you took her and she gave you a big hug. There was still sadness all over her cute face, but you knew she’d be okay.

“I don’t think she’s ever heard one pop before.” Harry said as he watched you console her.

Your hand was rubbing slow circles into her back as you slightly rocked from side to side. She was starting to cheer up some. Harry stepped behind you and started messing with her nose, giving it a poke every couple seconds. She would smile at him, then giggle as he did it again.

“See, just got scared, yeah? Nothing wrong.” He said as she grinned at him. He tapped her cheek, then her nose again. “Pretty girl.”

“Maybe some cake will make her feel better.”

Harry gave her a gasp and widened his eyes. “Cake! Do you want your cake, baby girl?”

She squealed at him, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

It was time for the cake now, and you were a bit unsure about how she would handle everyone crowding around her and staring at her. But, you kept an open mind and put her in the highchair as Harry got the cake. Vivian was glancing around at everyone, but she didn’t seem too distressed. You laughed as her eyes lit up when Harry placed the cake in front of her. You didn’t worry yourself with taking pictures, since you knew for sure your mom was going to do all of that for you.

Harry placed the candle one shaped in the center and put a lighter flame up to it. She jumped at the flame, her eyes looking up at Harry. He smiled at her, then started singing to her. Everyone joined in and you couldn’t resist laughing as she darted her eyes around the room. She was definitely confused by everyone singing in unison to her, but she wasn’t freaking out.

When the song ended, you leaned down and blew the candle out. She just sat there, staring at the cake and staying quiet. Harry grabbed her hand and moved it onto the cake. The second she touched one of the icing sculpted flowers, she squealed and squeezed her fingers into it. It mushed all over her hand and she started giggling.

“My sweet girl.. you’re the cutest.” Harry said as he watched her dig her hands into the icing.

“Give it a taste, honeybun.” You guided her hand to her lips. She opened her mouth and instantly liked the flavor of the icing, the pure sugar.

“She’s going to be wild after this.” Harry said with a laugh, shaking his head as he watched her try to shove all the icing in her mouth that was covering her hand. It was mostly smearing all over her face, but it was adorable to watch.

While she kept on eating the cake, or more so playing with it, you assisted your mom in handing out cupcakes and cookies covered in royal icing flowers to the guests. The other kids were just as excited about the cupcakes and icing as Vivian was.

“You’re a mess, baby doll.” Harry chuckled as he watched her go for another handful of the icing. This time she got some of the strawberry flavored cake in with the icing.

After letting her mess with the cake for ten or so minutes, you ushered everyone into the living room so she could open her presents. Before that was possible, Harry had to wipe the icing off her face and arms and change her into a clean outfit. Your mom helped him out since it was quite a task to do alone. He was trying to avoid getting the icing on himself or all over the place, so having extra hands was helpful.

You laid a blanket down on the floor so she could have somewhere soft to sit while she opened the gifts. One of the older kids helped you bring the gifts to where you were sitting. It wasn’t a lot, mainly because you requested for people to go light on the gifting, but it was going to be enough for her to have fun.

After a little bit, Harry showed up with her all cleaned and changed. You gave her a grin as he sat down next to the blanket and placed her on it. Her eyes went straight to the bag sitting in front of you with tissue paper sticking out of the top.

You let her pull the paper out and throw it around while you tended to actually getting the gifts out. You tried to show her, but she wasn’t interested. It made everyone smile and laugh each time she would push your hand away and opt to ball her fist into the tissue paper.

Eventually, she crawled to Harry’s lap and climbed on his legs. He held her waist as she played with a piece of the paper, crushing it up and shaking it in the air. He was amused by her interest in the tissue paper.

Once you opened everything and thanked everyone for their contributions, the party was starting to die down. The gifts consisted mostly of clothes, diapers, and a few toys. Harry took the time to carry all of the stuff to her nursery to deal with later, but mostly to get it out of the way for now. Plus, he didn’t want you to caught up in doing that. He wanted you to enjoy the final bit of the party. He fully intended on cleaning up afterwards and doing any other chores he wanted you to avoid.

That night, after the baby’s bath and Harry rocking her to sleep, you stood next to her crib and just looked down at her for a while. Harry was quiet as he put away the diapers, clothes, and the other items from the party. He didn’t mind doing the cleaning earlier or giving her a bath, but you felt guilty. If anything, he was glad you were relaxing. Whereas you figured you weren’t doing enough..

“What a day, hm?” He said softly as he came up behind you, his hands sliding onto your waist.

“I hope she had fun.” You muttered back as your hand wrapped around the railing.

He leaned around and kissed your cheek. “She did.”

“I can’t believe she won’t be a little baby anymore.”

He smiled gently, pressing another kiss to your skin. “She’ll always be our little baby.”

You sigh. “I.. I know. I just.. want time to slow down.”

Harry’s arms snaked around your stomach and he pulled your body against his. You let your head fall back on his chest, wishing you could freeze time.

“Your mom.. asked me about us having more kids again.”

You closed your eyes and pushed out a breath. “I told her to stop doing that.”

“Maybe she’s.. on to something.”

You furrowed your brows and opened your eyes. “What?”

You heard him gulp. He squeezed you for a moment, then let you go. You were confused, but he grabbed your body to rotate you. When your eyes met, he was calm and relaxed while you were confused and somewhat anxious.

“I mean.. we’ve loved having a baby.. maybe we could.. have another one.”

You scoffed at him, sort of in disbelief that you were hearing this. “Harry, we’ve already talked about this.”

“I know but.. we could talk again.”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t want that right now.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a half smile. You couldn’t tell if he was upset or annoyed by your protest. You grabbed his forearms and sunk your nails into his warm skin.

“I love you.. but not right now. She’s just a year old.” You saw his features shift, his eyes looked sad and his lips shaped into a frown.

“It was just a thought I had earlier.”

You licked your lips, stalling as you tried to find words to say back to him. “I don’t want to rush her childhood just to have another baby. I.. I want her to have as much attention as she needs and wants.”

He gave you a nod, his eyes moving away from yours. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s.. it’s okay, Harry.” You quickly moved your hands to his chest, trying to get his attention. “I promise.”

“No, it’s my fault. I.. I already know how you feel about it.”

You grabbed his jaw and angled his head so you could see eyes. “It’s okay.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a soft smile. You weren’t entirely sure if it was genuine or some kind of facade to hide his feelings. This all came up very expectedly. Harry’s made it clear with you and has agreed with you multiple times that he’s content with how your family is right now. Waiting would be best, and up until now he’s never said otherwise.

The baby made a little noise that caught your attention. You turned in Harry’s hold and looked down at her. She was perfectly fine, asleep and still. You thought about the idea of having a second baby. What if Vivian felt overshadowed and pushed to the side? What if that new baby didn’t feel as loved as her? What if you were only capable of loving one child? You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. It was useless to worry over this right now. You only have one baby, and tomorrow is her birthday.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The lovely @piranhaincaps shared the above with me, and I... Hng. Nikprice, Nikprice, Nikprice.

It's a quiet summer evening and Nik stumbles across his captain reading about princes and scarlet sails.

cw: none.

Nik finished stacking the dishwasher and stretched his back, hands pressed to the base. The captain's cooking had improved significantly since they had settled in Meols, but he still used every bowl, pan and utensil their small kitchen could stock and the clean up operation was always significant.

The old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight o'clock and Nik considered the open backdoor. John had left to water the plants about an hour ago, which meant he had been distracted by something. Nik grabbed his bottle of beer and headed out to make sure he wasn't about to embark on yet another building project.

The summer air was still warm, even though the sun was disappearing on the horizon. Being so close to the Irish sea meant there was always a fresher tang beneath the heat, and Nik drew in a deep breath as he studied their small garden.

John hated neatly trimmed grass, which had surprised Nik given his military background. No, he liked wild flowers that attracted the bees and butterflies, and growing vegetables they could cook. Their garden had ended up a colourful mishmash of organised chaos, both beautiful and utilitarian. Like John. Nik loved it.

But there was no captain toiling amongst the blooms. Instead, he sat on the patio beneath the awning, bare but for his khaki cargo shorts. A cold beer sat on the table next to him, the pint glass glistening with condensation where the summer heat clung to it, and he held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke drifting lazily into the warm ombre of the sky.

John was just as handsome as the day they had met. He had been a sergeant back then, fewer lines, less grey, but the same serious, bright blue eyes he had now as he read the novel propped on one thigh. As they had aged together, those blue eyes had filled with shadows but Nik had fought to make sure they had also filled with laughter in equal measure. His captain deserved that.

Nik wandered over and deposited himself in the second chair, grinning at the title of the novel. "Scarlet Sails. A romance, John," Nik teased.

A Russian classic, and written in its mother tongue. John had started learning Russian when Nik had started courting him, and now that he had retired he was chewing through Russian literature with a voracious appetite. They were a little more highbrow than the Dan Brown and Tom Clancy novels otherwise cluttering their overburdened bookshelves.

"This one better have a happy ending, Nik. The last one ripped my heart out my arsehole," John murmured, pausing to take a drag from his cigar. Nik watched the smoke leave his nose and was reminded of an aging dragon in repose.

"You forget, so many of these tales were written by men surrounded by anger and austerity. It is difficult to write about hope and happiness when you cannot conceive of these things." Nik's bare toes curled against the warm paving beneath them.

John looked up and fixed Nik with narrow eyes. "Is this a bloody tragedy too? You told me it was a fairytale."

"No tragedy, happy ending, I promise. Grin took his characters far away so he did not have to write something... ideologically driven by the realities of the USSR. It is an ending more suited to your tastes."

"Hmm," John grabbed his bookmark - a folded leaflet advertising a nearby fishing hotspot - and let the novel close. "How did you survive in that environment and still," John waved his cigar in a vague circle, "become you."

"Become me?"

Nik liked this game. John found words of an emotional nature challenging, and he flushed red, became flustered, when Nik pressed him. It was like stroking the soft centre of a noble turtle. "Like, you... uh, kind, and... funny."

"Spasibo," Nik replied, with a grin.

"Pozhaluysta." John obscured his flush with a sip from his pint.

"My father travelled around the satellite states a lot. The closer you were to the West, the easier it was to get hold of the music, the stories, the... hope."

"West isn't exactly a bastion of hope itself, mate."

"Da," Nik conceded, "but to a young man full of energy and dreams, the West was like a fairytale in comparison to the Soviet Union, a world so grey that Alexander Grin had to make up a whole new one, without even Russian names, to conceive of happiness and love that was not doomed to tragedy in the end."

John hummed and Nik let the comfortable silence settle as he mulled over Nik's words. A gentle hand found his on the table, battle roughened fingers impossibly tender as they stroked across the back and into his palm. "You're happy here, right?" John asked as they watched a bee hover over a cluster of wild flowers.

"Da, captain," Nik said softly. "I expected a Tolstoy ending, but... this, this is a Grin."

John smiled, his eyes crinkling, his whiskers twitching around his mouth in that mischievous way that Nik adored, and he lifted Nik's knuckles to his lips. Nik 's heart swelled in his chest and he fought the urge to scoop his love from the chair and carry him inside to show him just how happy he was. John rubbed his cheek against Nik's fingers after the kiss, blue eyes lidded, like a large cat scenting his territory, before returning their clasped hands to the table.

Later, when the night was cooler and John had finished his beer, Nik would guide him to their bed and they would make love. Nik would kiss and taste the summer heat on his skin and listen to his voice crack around his name, entreaties sweeter than the words of Tsvetaeva. But, for now, Nik was content to bask in the gentle quiet of their own happy ending.

[urprettylittlething]

Hiii, I have a scenario opinion in my mind. After a few days, our little kitty became upset because she wanted to go outside and play with butterflies or puppies. So they couldn't stand seeing her like this, so they decided to walk her around. they take her to a park that has puppies and butterflies. She plays with them cutely and tries to catch a butterfly as they watch her. She was so cute...

After they went home, little kitty tried to reach them on their cheek cutely, putting her small hands on Gojo's knee while she was on tiptoe. But when she couldn't reach him (she is too short lol) Her eyes fill with tears

You are loved <3

Thank you so much for this ask ml! <3 This is such a cute ideaaa omg I just had to write some little headcanon thingy for it!! I actually had a different version of this in my notes app ready to be edited but I lost it earlier today in some kind of glitch, so I had to write it all over again :,) so I apologise if it's not my best, but it's such a cute idea how could I not write something <333 and thank you so much :,) you are very loved as well <3

warnings - fluff, mentions of rules, collar and leash but very brief, not used in a weird way, more like they don't want her running off kind of way

≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦≧◠ᴥ◠≦

♡ I imagine that Kitty had been sulking for a few days, her ears flattened and her tail all curled and droopy

♡ Geto would be the first person to notice, of course

♡ A few days before, they had finally let Kitty watch some tv programs with them, the only deal was that they would both be there the whole time and be able to monitor what she watches

♡ That whole thing was going smoothly for a while, until Geto was in the kitchen fixing up a snack and Gojo had 'quickly' scurried off to the bathroom

♡ That meant Kitty was alone with the tv for a short while, and it just so happened that the tv program had rolled over to the next one

♡ A nature documentary, about butterflies

♡ And like at the start of every documentary it starts showing clips of loads of butterflies, some swarms and some singular, zooming in on their beautiful patterns and filming them perched on flowers and leaves

♡ One of the boys eventually came back in time to turn it off before it could really begin but not before she had seen those first few clips, leaving her to deflate at being denied what she wanted to watch

♡ Geto had eventually told Gojo about how sad kitty had been recently

♡ The both of them piecing together that it was probably from the TV incident from a few days ago

♡ So they spend the next few weeks discussing ideas and going back and forth with each other before finally settling on an agreement

♡ When they told Kitty for the first time that was she able to go outside, only for a short while if it would help cheer her up, she was over the moon

♡ Her ears instantly perked up, tail swishing from side to side in her euphoria

♡ While she was rubbing her head all over their chests and purring the loudest they think they've ever heard, they explained the rules that she has to follow

♡ She was to be kept on collar and leash

♡ She was not to stray further than the lead would allow her from them

♡ She is to listen to everything they say when they say it because her safety, her life, depends on it

♡ Kitty was just happy to be able to go outside so she agreed wholeheartedly

♡ The plan was that Gojo would be the one to teleport them all there, to avoid any car travelling or Kitty seeing anything she shouldn't

♡ When they arrive it's to a beautiful spot in the middle of some forest, a big patch of open land filled with wild plants and flowers, honey bees buzzing back and forth in search for nectar, birds chirping and searching for food to feed their young, and the butterflies

♡ Fluttering about and perched on stems and petals

♡ The two boys stood back and let her explore

♡ She looked radiant basking in the sunlight and chasing after butterflies, in the hopes of being able to hold one

♡ Her happiness almost contagious in the way they were admiring her, smiles on their faces

♡ It wasn't long before a little tug on her leash brought her back to them and they headed back home

♡ It had only been about 10 or 15 minutes that she spent outside but it could have easily been the best day of her life

♡ The two of them gently praised her, petting her ears and calling her a good girl for listening to them so well and following their rules

♡ She tried her hardest to reach up on her tiptoes, trying to give them each little kisses to show her happiness to them since she just couldn't find the words 

♡ They both shared a chuckle when she couldn't quite reach, a small pout appearing on her lips until they each bent down one after the other

♡ She immediately perked up again, covering both their faces in little kisses and nuzzling into their chests with a content purr

♡ An eventful day for Kitty that ended with them all sandwiched in bed for a nice long and peaceful nap

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Bees flowers and laser beams

Homelander x fem!reader (superheroine)

warning : fluff (as much fluff the boys can have), kiss (kinda), comfort, homelander is a danger to all including bees, no use of Y/n

Summary : It's World Bee Day and Homelander has to make a video about bees for a pr assignment with the superhero and environmentalist Honey Queen…well it turns out that the superhero of America is afraid of bees. Accidents and approaches are pre-programmed alongside laser beams.

Info : A quick idea and then I had to write it. The bts scene with Anthony who is afraid of the bee is just cute. Have fun reading and have a nice day ;)

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

,,The environment is an important part of the earth without a healthy environment we wouldn't exist, no animals and flowers no superheroes like us all need oxygen to breathe but the environment is the most important thing we have….so let's come together on world bee day and plant flowers" the young woman spoke into the camera with a green screen behind her showing the video with data, promo pictures and videos.

Smiling for the last few seconds, she waited for the shrill sound that the recording was over and relaxed again. This whole superheroine thing was still new not even a week ago she was still a small beekeeping club with her friends and had a few small requests, half of which were pornos she was supposed to act in and now she was contacted by Vought was on TV had spent until she couldn't spend anymore and she would meet Homelander in a few moments.

,,Okay that was good just wait in your van or something we'll come get you" she heard Ashley's voice typing on her cell phone with a call on her ear and walking past her in a hurry it was definitely a pace she had to get used to.

Sure, anything you want, thought the superheroine and went into the small van where she found her friends, who immediately bombarded her with questions and congratulations.

They had given everything so hard and now the dream of a big environmental carnival was going to happen, ,,Ashley said there would be several hundred kids and families coming alone," she said and showed a few recordings on her cell phone.

Some of the families were actors and hired influencers but it made her happy to see that the younger ones cared so much about the environment and the bees. ,,You're going to be a little star, Queeny," she said, looking at the big bee lying in her friends' arms and humming as the familiar stroked the soft fur and the dark eyes seemed to radiate joy.

Since awakening her strength to find out what she was and the kitten bee she had once saved with a little sugar water and a roof over her head, Queeny had not left her side.

They were a well-rehearsed team and even if she always wondered whether everything here made sense, she only had to look at Queeny or her friends and what they had achieved.

It would all work out. After a few more moments of practicing with Homelander with her friends, they took a few more photos and Queeny was desperate for more cuddles.

But then the door to her van opened and Ashley picked her up to take her to Homelande, they were in the allotment area of town where they had their beehives and the little shop it was all the pride they had.

,,Remember to smile, stick to the script and when the bell rings it's on," the brown-haired girl reminded her and without saying a word the brown-haired girl turned around and left her standing in front of the little house in the garden. Queeny flew next to her and heard the voice asking her if everything was alright and she replied, taking one last breath to smooth her "costume" before going inside.

The typical smell of wood and honey came to her familiar and relaxed but a smile curled on her lips as she saw Homelander watching the honey on the shelf. ,,I didn't know bee shit could be so colorful," was the first thing he said, pointing to the different colored honeys, a statement that threw her for a loop. this was Homelander, he was older than her.

Everyone knew honey wasn't bee shit, right? A nervous smile on her lips she approached him and held out her hand which he accepted with a sigh, ,,The color changes as the nectar is concentrated into honey and depending on the pollen," she replied and saw him look a little puzzled and then smirk and put his hands up in surrender, ,,All right bee mistress," he mumbled and was about to go back to the jars when he let out a shrill cry.

At first she thought he'd been startled or heard an explosion but he literally stumbled back and pressed himself against the wall, "What-what the fuck is that!" he shouted and his gaze went to Queeny who flew next to her and just looked at him. Homelander's afraid of bees? she asked herself, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the whole situation.

This time it was she who put her hands up defensively and stood in front of her pet and companion, ,,It's all right, don't worry it's my well mascot she won't hurt you" she assured him and was about to tell Queeny to land on the ground but even a movement from the bee seemed to frighten him.

A red laser beam went through the air and Queeny flew out of range just in time, but the superhero had hit the younger girl. ,,Shit-fuck sorry you're ehm fuck," stammered the older one, watching in shock as her insides dissolved into a swarm of bees.

As cute as she was outside with her wings and "costume", her insides were made up of bees, something many people couldn't cope with.

She understood that too, but his reaction wasn't helping at all as he tried to destroy her bees again and again with his laser. ,,Home-Homelander please calm down I have you under control the bees here look" she said and concentrated on rebuilding her body after him letting her mind wander through the little animals and she slowly took on his form.

An image of Homeland in black and yellow surrounded him and came slowly towards him, ,,Bees won't hurt you, the stings will probably even bounce off you," she said calmly and flew in front of him, using a single bee to show how small the sting was, ,,But-but they're so aggressive," he replied, seeming completely oblivious that they were working on a project, that he was the super hero of America, that he could do anything, it was almost cute to see him like this.

Slowly placing her hand of bees on his she was almost afraid he would break every single little worker bee but he let her, ,,Here this is Larry he won't hurt you…he's actually very soft" she said and slowly took on her own form as the group spirit was quite challenging to maintain.

Standing on the ground again, she saw Larry crawl over Homelander's red gloves and lift a small leg in greeting, ,,He says hello," she said and saw the almost amused look on Homelander's face as he held the bee in front of his face and carefully moved his finger to the bee and tapped it, ,,He's really…soft," the blond stated and seemed much more relaxed.

But when Larry lifted off again and put a feeler to the superhero's lips, a fact she felt on her lips, Just wait until I catch you mister, she warned the bee, trying to cool her warm cheeks as she practically kissed Homelander.

But the bee had touched him and Homelander hastily let go, startled that he dodged out into the garden where there were only more bees, ,,Oh shit Homelander calm down!" she shouted and her bee wings started to buzz as she rushed after the flying superhero, which was harder said than done as he was much faster than her bee wings.

But still it was easy to find him as the laser beams went through the air and he tried to catch the bees one by one, which was a bit of a challenge for him, ,,Tell them to stop!," he demanded and continued to flail around to catch the little insects while she tried to dodge his blows.

But after a few moments she had managed it and was in the air in front of him and put a calming hand on his, telling the bees to fly back to the hives, ,,It's all right Homelander, they won't hurt you okay? I promise I'll keep them under control," she said calmly, nodding slightly as she saw his eyes change color and he became calmer, she felt him slowly slide to the ground and cling to her.

She was relieved that he had calmed down but she was also a little proud - not everyone could claim to have saved Homelander from a bee. ,,You don't tell anyone about this, dear bee, do you understand?" he warned, but his voice was not harsh, not filled with hate, he just seemed relieved to have peace from the insects again. Nodding hastily, she detached herself from him and an awkward stilel came between them both.

Before she suddenly felt his hand on her shoulder, she felt his gaze on her and he gave an almost pleased, ,,Well, let's market some honey," and she followed his gaze as they stood in front of the cameras and began the wonderful campaign for World Bee Day…. maybe there was something more to this wonderful day than just colorful flowers and little bees, maybe flowers of affection would open.

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

@thatsthewrongwallcraig

[dracoxmalereader]

Clock Tower

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Can be read as any house reader but I did write it with my main Hufflepuff!Reader in mind. Takes place during half blood prince before most of the main plot but post Draco being made a death eater.

Summary: Draco didn't show up to charms, and ever the worried boyfriend you are, you've gone looking for him. After an exhausting search around the castle, you finally find him in the clocktower. What a wonderful opportunity to get emotional. <3

Word Count: 1290

A breeze whirls through the air and warm leaves dust the sky. The sound of rustling trees echoes distantly, few clouds marring the evenly blue sky. Wings flap, and birds chirp and sing their fresh autumn songs to fill the silence brought on by class time. 

Your shoes crunch against wet, grassy stones. You breathe in the smell of the clayish mud that paves the floor of the clocktower courtyard, hearing the low and steady swing of the pendulum inside. It’s hard to see in with the shadow cast over the archway, but blonde hair sticks out against the dim walls and floor and you quicken your pace. 

“Draco?”

His head turns to you. He’s sat on the floor, knees tucked to his chest with one arm wrapped around them, another splayed out on the ground to balance himself. It makes him look incredibly small. 

His eyes meet yours as you step into the room with him. 

“What are you doing here?” His eyebrows are drawn tight, his voice coming out uncharacteristically weak. 

You approach and sit beside him, legs crossed. “You weren’t in charms.” 

There was so much you wanted to talk about. Unsure of what to say, you reach a hand up to smooth down a strand of hair that had broken free from the formal do he’d gelled it into. 

“I like what you’ve been doing with your hair these days.” You spoke, looking over him with fondness.

He stares at you silently. His face, paler by the day, holds a weight of stress. Lines etched deeply behind either side of his nose, and he’d been walking the halls with his worried expression long enough you weren’t sure if the wrinkles on his forehead were intentional or not. 

Sighing, you resign yourself to honesty. “I’m worried about you.”

His brows draw ever tighter and he wrenches his gaze away from you, watching the shadow of the passing pendulum. “All will be well.” The way he says it makes you wonder who he’s trying to convince.

You inch your hand closer to his and run your pinkie finger along the side of his hand before hooking it under his. He takes a breath and swallows audibly, making an effort to further avoid your watchful eyes. He turns his focus to an empty flower pot in the corner farthest from you. 

His resolve bleeds, and he breathes from his nose, not ready to let it break. His pinkie finger twitches and curls tighter around yours.

“Doesn’t it remind you of the O.W.L.s last year?” You prompt, partly out of nostalgia and partly just to get him talking. “The pendulum.”

“Yeah.” His lips purse, something akin to a smile, though the corners of his mouth remain downturned. “It was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it? Those weasel-bees little light show?”

You chuckle. “Yeah. It was.” You scooch yourself closer to him, unlatching your pinkies in favor of draping your palm over the top of his hand.

“Until it was over, at least.” 

You could feel his knuckles trembling ever so slightly, and wished he'd been around enough for you to know when they’d started doing that. 

“I studied so hard for that test.” He sighs, his chest visibly deflating. He curls in on himself, running the hand not blanketed by yours over his hair. "It felt like the end of the world."

There’s an air of longing to his tone. You tighten your fingers, slipping the tips between the side of his palm and the ground. You knock your shoulder against his. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His eyes finally flicker to yours. His gray irises are dim, lacking the childish glint he’d evidently lost over the summer. You watch his face morph, frown deepening. The wrinkles on his forehead spread. 

“Draco…” You trail on.

He takes a sharp breath. “Don’t-” His words come out choked, forced through the back of his throat like he almost doesn’t want to say them. “There’s… just a lot going on.” He focuses his attention on the floor again.

You nod, and you can see his gaze linger over your connected hands.

“I have to do a lot of things I don’t want to do, now.” He says it like he’s chasing it down. “And it’s changed a lot about how I see the world.” He swallows, and you can hear how his lungs tighten as he speaks. “How I see you…”

His fingers ball up, lifting from the floor and wrapping awkwardly around the tops of yours. You lean your head on his shoulder to show him you’re still listening. 

His free hand roughly bunches up the fabric of his dress pants, forearm quaking like it aches. “I haven’t been around a lot this year. Or last year. I’m sorry.” His voice quivers, a desperate lilt coating it like the spit you hear collecting in his mouth. 

There’s a deeper layer to his words that you can’t quite place. You raise your head to see him blinking away tears.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him. “It’s fine, and-” Your hand leaves his to travel up his arm, squeezing the space under his shoulder so you can feel the muscles tense. “Whatever it is that you’re having to do, I’m here for you, okay?”

His eyes meet yours again and he nods. He sniffles once, then, “Thank you.” His fingers drum against the floor. “I think you might be the only one.”

You rub your thumb back and forth over his arm and feel when the trembling in his knuckles rumbles through the rest of him. He clears his throat to shake it off and pushes himself up all at once, turning away from you again. 

“We should get to class.” He rolls his shoulders and stretches his head to the side, fruitlessly as he remains tense. He holds himself with an ill-fitting urgency. “Charms will be over by the time we get back.”

“Draco-” You try to keep his attention. You stand up as he’s swatting the dirt off the back of his pants, and he brushes you off again.

“It’s best we hurry. If Flitwick sees us after we both ditched he’ll have our heads-”

“Draco!” You cut him off, brows tilted inward only for a moment. You take a step closer to him and grab his face in both of your hands. He's still and quiet, looking almost fearfully so. You sigh. Leaning forward, you close your eyes and press a firm kiss to his mouth.

You pull away and his face, still sunken and pale with exhaustion, has reddened. The stress ebbs from it, and you watch his eyebrows relax just a little. He takes a deep breath. 

Hands still on his face, you hold eye contact. “Thank you for telling me.”

His mouth pulls inward. He looks you up and down, gaze catching on your lips before coming back up to your pupils. His stubborn, tired eyes swim with vulnerability and your heart swells with affection. You grin at him.

“Let’s walk together, hm?”

He nods, and for the first time in weeks you see a small but genuine smile tug at his lips. “You’re such a sap.” The lighthearted jab feels like the calm after a storm. The wind turns just right and a gust of cool air washes through the tower. The strand of hair you'd smoothed down blows loose again, fluttering.

Your thumbs indulgently trace the skin of his jaw a few times before you let your hands fall, brushing your shoulders and lacing your pinkie fingers together again. Wings flap, and birds sing in the distance as the two of you start out of the clocktower and through the courtyard.

I really try to like Harry x Reader content and just Harry in general but Daniel Radcliffe looks so much like my ex in the movies that I'm immediately put off. It's so uncanny I honestly barely survived the movies to begin with. He looks JUST like him it's terrifying. RIP what I could've had with Harry if they didn't cast Daniel Radcliffe. Timbers shivered.

Draco is more than enough for me anyways. <3 How wonderful he is. <3 If he's OOC in this it's because I forgot to go to bed last night and have been awake since the dawn of time. Creative liberties.

Trying to tag everyone this time because tumblr magically made the tag work under Express so I'm hoping it'll do that here too. OOoOoOoOooOo tumblr you want to tag properly soOOoOoOOo bad

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @dracoshusband @siuspider @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222

[harrysarchive]

Pleasing

Pâtisserie:

h.s.

pairing: tattoo artist!harry x baker!reader

summary:

"now i know my innocent lil bee did not just tell me she did shrooms with a woman old enough to be her grandmother." i snicker and she chuckles.

"you should ask her about the time we hot boxed her car!" martha yells and y/n's ears start to burn again.

"martha! we did not!" y/n tries to defend herself but a look of mischief gleams in her eyes.

or

another adventure with bee and tattoo artist harry.

or

a continuation of girls who drink espresso martinis

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒

𝐏𝐎𝐕

"bee," i let a moan slip as the blackberry frosting melts on my tongue, "you're a fuckin' bakin' wiz."

i watch as her ears start to burn and a smirk covers my face, "tell me about it, i swear the only reason we have costumers is because of her baking and her ass." martha chuckles.

"martha!" y/n scolds the 68 year old lady, martha rolls her eyes as to say, you know i'm right.

"you got men comin' in here lookin' at your ass, bee?" i tease as she sits next to me.

"harry!" she whines digging her head into my shoulder, i wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer to me.

looking around the cute bakery, a pastel pink covers the walls and little white cloud fish are painted on the walls. little frogs are decorated at the bottom along with flowers, trees and other animals likely elephants and loins.

"who the fuck was on shrooms while thinkin' of the design?" i ask causing y/n's body to vibrate against mine as she shook with laughter.

"when martha first bought the place i swear to god, it had shit stains on the walls," she started and i bursted out laughing, "and well martha, she was like you know what we should do? and i was like what, she was like we should come up with a design and then tear down the walls. so i was like okay and we tried to come up with one sober and it failed it was giving 90's diner. we didn't want that, it's so basic. so martha came up with an idea she was like, what if we do shrooms. and i was like eh why not. and that's how Pleasing Pâtisserie came about."

"now i know my innocent lil bee did not just tell me she did shrooms with a woman old enough to be her grandmother." i snicker and she chuckles.

"you should ask her about the time we hot boxed her car!" martha yells and y/n's ears start to burn again.

"martha! we did not!" y/n tries to defend herself but a look of mischief gleams in her eyes.

"y/n! you are a bad girl!" i exclaim teasingly and she gapes at me.

"i am not! 'm a good girl!" she huffs crossing her arms over her chest.

i take a minute to really look at her, her little apron has hearts splattered all over them, her big round glasses cover the apples of her cheeks. her hair's in a messy ponytail with her fly aways running loose. my hand subconsciously comes up to move a curl that's dangling in front of her forehead. a loud sound of an alarm goes off and y/n's eyes bulge, and she's quick on her feet.

"my scones are gonna burn!" she yelps making her way to the back.

"baby i gotta go." i hum as i stand, she quickly pokes her head out the walk way to the oven and frowns at me.

"cant stay a lil' longer?" she says with puppy dog eyes.

don't do that

i think to my self and frown shaking my head, "gotta appointment in 20 minutes bee."

"cancel?" she suggest and i let out a chuckle before shaking my head.

"y'know i cant." i say shrugging on my jacket and her frown deepens.

she makes her way over with a cute little pout a puppy dog eyes, she wraps her arms around my waist and nuzzles her head into my chest.

"don't want you to leave." she huffs hugging me tighter.

"christ pet, squeeze me any tighter ya gonna pop me." i choke out.

"can i come over tonight?"she ask with a giddy smile and i nod.

"yea baby, i'll come get you yeah?" i ask and she nods with a wide smile, then moving behind the counter again.

"kiss?" she muses and i smirk making my way over before being stopped by martha.

"employees only!" martha snaps and flicks my forehead.

"martha let him give me a kiss!" y/n scolded the lady and she shook her head before letting me through.

i grab ahold of her face before pulling her lips towards mine and slowly moving our lips together. i let myself to let go and bite her lip softly causing her to whimper and pull away.

"your a bad boy mr. styles." she says groggily smiling up at me with plump lips.

"not too much on my name baby." i tease with a smirk and she rolls her eyes, "be ready by 5." i say tapping the plump of her ass and she scolds me.

i walk out into the store area before waving at martha, "take care of ma girl martha! and don't do drugs."

"oh c'mon son, 'm no pussy. i got a blunt that's ready to be lit out back." martha teased winking at me.

the door jingles as i chuckle and i make my face go stern looking ahead. y/n runs out from the back and smiles at the woman and child, "welcome to pleasing pâtisserie, what can i get you today?"

a/n : this is how i start off writing LMFAO idk what to be naming shit😭

[gardening-guy]

garden update || 10/25/24 🌿🏡🥰🌱

see that very nice-looking raised bed on the bottom right? THAT'S NEWWWW!!! i just set these two new raised beds up yesterday with a dear friend who's been staying the night over the past few days!! yippee!! 🎉 i've been showing this friend of mine how to garden and letting them learn in my backyard. we've only done flowering plants so far as well as planting dill & cilantro seeds -- so yesterday, i decided it was time to learn about crops!

we sowed seeds for walking egyptian onions, broccoli de cicco, dill, and cilantro; but i plan on also teaching them how to transplant so we'll also transplant in more kale, cabbage, and hopefully chinese pink celery! this'll be a very full & very productive raised bed, i hope!

i also have a few pictures of the progress in the greenhouse box!

the seedlings are all steadily coming along! i do need to sow a LOT more chinese pink celery seeds, so i'll do that once i finally get another bag of soil (i already need 2 more for potting houseplant props, 4 more for my last raised garden bed, and probably 2 more for future seedlings -- augh my budget is so fucked).

currently in the greenhouse box, i have 8 chinese pink celery, 15 cilantro, 3 copenhagen market cabbage, 3 blue-curled scotch kale, and 3 dill. (holy shit so much cilantro, they're going to be gifts for friends!!) i plan on transplanting the kale, cabbage, & pink celery all into the raised beds, i'm just waiting for them to grow up a bit more unfortunately.

i also have photos of some of the flowering plants in the raised beds from today! i use an app on my phone called planta to keep track of all my plants, and once a month, i like to upload photos & notes as a monthly plant progress report. it does get pretty daunting, seeing allllll the tasks that i have to do daily in the app, but i slowly make my way through it! i'm one of those people who just really likes recording & organizing stuff, especially hobbies like reading, gardening, writing, working out, et cetera. i've got apps/websites for most of them!

the butterfly milkweed, bee balm, and coneflowers are steadily going dormant for the cold seasons -- i really really hope they survive and thrive in the spring!!! i'm proud to say i've been a lot better about remembering to prune my chrysanthemums and they definitely look a lot happier (especially compared to last fall's mums)! that coleus is inevitably going to die off, i've accepted it since they're not really meant for outdoors especially in the ground. my lithodora is looking alright (hopefully will bloom again in the spring), my gerbera daisies are looking gorgeous, and the petunias are doing alright (yet are looking a bit... scattered, i suppose).

that's mostly it now for this garden update! i will say my zinnias are still going mighty strong, and i've been seeing soooo many bugs & critters in my tiny lil city suburb garden, and that makes me happy! the stray cats are mostly comfortable with me, the birds love their bird feeders, the squirrels keep taking shits in my raised beds (as well as this one stray cat i call cinnabun), and there's a regular praying mantis in my garden that i am lowkey terrified of (she's just so fucking huge i think she's cool and i respect her but damn she watches me steadily and it's freaky)!

i am potentially going to try to make an arch trellis in the garden with these camping tent poles that i want to repurpose, so maybe that'll be my next big thing? or i do still want to do another greenhouse box once my budget is not as tight (although that's looking like not anytime soon unfortunately) -- we'll see in the future!!

thank you for sticking around this long, and i hope everyone has a wonderful day + weekend!!! :)