#okay some parts of this were a little impulsive--looking at you ending

[wannabanauthor]

What should happen to BuckTommy in Season 8b

Eddie's thinking about moving to Texas, right?

Well, he has to pack, and he calls his two favorite buff men to help him pack and load all his stuff.

Tommy did not know Buck was going to be there, and vice versa.

They stare awkwardly at each other before noticing that most of Eddie's stuff is already packed.

Cheeky bastard.

He locks them both in his house with the parting, "Figure it the fuck out, then I'll unlock the doors."

Buck and Tommy are more than able to break down the door if necessary, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do to their best friend's house.

They try to out-wait Eddie, but several hours pass with no communication from him.

Buck is doing his best to not look or talk to Tommy, but all the doors are locked, including the bedrooms, so he's stuck in the living room.

The kitchen doesn't have any baking/cooking ingredients, just prepared food in the fridge.

Buck is without his coping mechanism, and at some point he breaks down crying in the kitchen.

Tommy wants to comfort him, but he knows he's the reason Buck is like this, so he feels stuck and doesn't know what to do.

He hands Buck a tissue and some water, but Buck turns around and ignores him, trying to hide his sobs.

Tommy goes back to the living room and sits on the floor.

"Why?" he hears Buck say.

He gets back up and goes into the kitchen.

"Why what?" Tommy asks.

"Why did you give me a second chance just to break my heart six months later? Why didn't you tell me that you only saw us as a temporary thing? Why did you even give me hope that we could be something more?" Evan asks, in between sobs.

"Evan, I'm so-"

"It's Buck. You don't get to call me Evan anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Buck stops crying and looks at Tommy. There's anger and heartbreak written all over his face.

"Fuck you, you don't get to be sorry," Buck says.

"But I am. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. You asked me to move in, and I panicked. I've been hurt before, and I knew I couldn't survive it if I moved in and then lost you."

Buck scoffed, but out of irony, not amusement.

Tommy stepped closer to him, and Buck remained where he was, almost as if he was sizing Tommy up.

"You kept putting me on this pedestal, and I knew one day you'd see me for who I am and leave," Tommy says.

"Is that what you think of me? Out of the two of us, you're the one who has left me, twice," Buck points out, and Tommy winces at that.

"You're very impulsive, and we hadn't even broached that topic before. I thought I was okay with you setting the pace, but I guess I wasn't. I thought it was in our best interest to end things now then later when it would hurt more."

Tommy pauses for a moment and looks at Buck. Really looks at him. His own heart breaks when he picks up on the little details of how Buck had been handling the breakup, The flour under his fingernails, his stubble, his longer curls, the bags under his eyes, the fidgeting with what's ever in reach, currently tissues being torn into little bits.

Tommy knows in his heart that he practically broke the man he loves, and it makes him feel even worse. There is still a part of him that wants to run, but he can't run again. Not after seeing Evan like this.

"I'm scared, Evan," Tommy confesses.

Buck's head snaps up in surprise, and he squints his eyes as if he doesn't trust Tommy.

Tommy feels the panic rise within him, but continues his train of thought. "Evan, I love you. But i'm terrified that one day you'll get tired of me and find someone else. It's happened before, and-"

"I'm not him. I'm me. From the first moment we met, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't understand it at first because it felt so different from my past. I mean, you're not the first guy I've had a crush on. At all," Evan says.

Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably. He'd rather not think about Evan's past crushes.

"We spent nearly every free moment we've had together," Evan says. "I thought we were ready to move to the next step."

"I wasn't ready, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have stayed and talked it out, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and I needed to leave."

"And you left, then ignored me for weeks," Evan says. "I felt like I was going insane and imagined our whole relationship."

Tommy steps into Evan's space and uses two fingers to lift Evan's chin. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Evan. I love you so much, and I'm terrified because it's never felt like this before."

Evan gives an amused chuckle. "I guess it was my turn to see you at your worst."

Tommy cups Evan's cheeks. "I am so sorry, for everything. I feel like I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm still ask-"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss.

Tommy relaxes and kisses him back. It feels like coming home after a long day of work to the arms of his partner. He never wants that feeling to leave.

"I love you too, asshole," Evan whispers against Tommy's lips.

They both chuckle at that.

"Where do we go from here?" Evan asks.

"Couple's counseling. I want us to work. I want us to be forever," Tommy says and gives Evan the tenderest kiss.

"That works," Evan replies between kisses.

They don't stop kissing or holding each other until they're nearly out of breath.

"Finally!" they hear from outside and jump.

Eddie's standing outside with his phone in hand, and on the screen is a live camera feed showing.

"Now, let's get something to eat," Tommy says and kisses Evan again. He was going to kill and thank Eddie, but for now, he's happy just to be with Evan again.

He looks into Evan's eyes and knows that this is it for him. Evan's the one.

[clericofshadows]

past meets present

Description: Regis runs into someone from the past while he and Zaeed are waiting for Kaidan to join them on their date.

Paring: Regis Shepard/Kaidan Alenko/Zaeed Massani

Note; Takes place a few years post ME3.

KA: Sorry loves, I’m going to be a bit late.  Meeting is running over with no end in sight!  

Regis checked his omnitool to see Kaidan’s message flashing at the top.  That explains why Kaidan hadn’t met them at Apollo’s, despite his usual promptness.

Regis glanced up at Zaeed, who also had his omnitool out.

“Sounds like we’re on our own for a while,” Zaeed said.  “That school keeps him so goddamn busy.”

Regis typed out a reply.  “Price he pays for not being on the station in person all the damn time.”

RS: Want us to go ahead and order?  We can wait for you. KA: Nah, don’t worry about it.  Don’t let me prevent you from eating.  Can’t have a grumpy Zee on our hands. ZM: I can see that. KA: I know :).  I’ve done enough chatting.  I can always ask you to get me something to-go.  It’s fine.

ZM: No, it’s not.  We’ll order as many goddamn appetizers as it takes to wait for you. KA: <3.

Regis took that as a sign he was done talking for now.  Zaeed reached over and grabbed Regis’s hand, lacing their fingers together on the table.  

The waiter–Alyx, if he remembered correctly, never being great with names–came back by, asking if they were ready for anything.  Regis went ahead and ordered them some fried chicken bites smothered with spicy peppers, and Zaeed opted for a platter of egg rolls and another beer. 

“Anything else, gentleman?” The waiter asked. “Usually I don't see just the two of you here.”

“We're waiting on our third.  He might be a while,” Regis replied, setting down the menu. “We’ll wait and order our usual when he gets here.”

“Of course. Just let me know.  I’ll go ahead and get those appetizers out for you.” The waiter left with a nod.

Zaeed finished off his first pint. “50 credits says this whole meeting could've been an email.”

“You say that every time.”

“So, are you taking the bet or not?”

Regis took a sip of his lemonade.  “No.”

“You’re no fun.”

Regis only smiled in response.  “You won’t be saying that later tonight.”

Zaeed rolled his eyes.  “Indulge me.  I know he loves this program, but how many times a month do we hear him bitching about the content of the meetings?”

“Price he pays for not being there in person,” Regis said again with a pointed look.  “Soon enough we’ll all be back on Arcturus, and I imagine then he’ll have no issues.  For now, this is the best thing they can do.”

“When did you get to be so diplomatic?” Zaeed snorted.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Regis started counting on his fingers to make a point.  “Galactic war and all the shit I had to deal with, post-Alpha Relay summits before Wren and Hackett got smart and used the resources I got for us, hmm… post-war summits and all that shit… Can I keep going or have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.  I guess you’re right.  We really can’t complain.”

“Not unless you want to do long distance.”

“Rather not.”

The waiter came back with their appetizers, setting the plates down along with three small plates and another glass of Zaee’s preferred beer.  Nice little touch.  They hesitated for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Regis asked.

They pulled a face.  “Depends.  I know you typically like a quiet evening and all… but there is a woman over on the balcony inquiring about you.”

They were right.  Neither of them were particularly fond of the attention that lands on them at all times, although the luster had died down since the end of the war.  Still, there were fans who wanted to meet the great Admiral Shepard, and Regis always turned them down. He is not some prize to look at.

On the off chance it was something interesting… “Did she give a name?” Regis asked.

“She did.  Rahna Akar.”

Regis found himself dragged by… Kaidan?  Was that his name?  He was too distracted looking into his eyes, nothing but kindness and a beautiful dark brown full of warmth.  Either way, he was the one good thing so far out of this fucking place. “Come on, let’s meet more people!  You can’t hole yourself up in there all the time.  Let me introduce you to Rahna, she’s one of our dorm buddies.”

A blast from the past.  Interesting.  And Kaidan isn’t here to witness it.

Even Zaeed quirked an eyebrow at that.  Regis nodded, curious to hear from her.  “She’s fine to come over.”

“Oh?  Alright, I’ll let her know.”  They walked away.  Regis watched as they approached a table far from them, right next to the balcony. 

There was a woman sitting alone, clothed in a simple, but professional dress Regis sees often on the Citadel.  He couldn't make out her face just yet, but as she got up, he immediately recognized her.  Older, yes, but still the striking woman that was part of their friend group at BAaT.

Well, part of Kaidan’s group.  Regis took a lot longer to warm up to anyone that wasn’t Kaidan, still angry about not learning biotics from Vik. Still, his mother’s decision led him to Kaidan, and he can’t really imagine a universe in which he didn’t meet up during BAaT.  And through that, they met Zaeed.

Regis can’t really bring himself to be angry about it anymore, knowing what BAaT gave him in the end.

Rahna approached them, standing next to their table, glancing down at the empty chair.  “You’re looking well, Regis… or is it Admiral?”

“It’s Regis,” he said.  “How’s life treating you?” 

“Well, all things considered… When I saw you, I thought that…” she trailed off.  “Never mind.  I guess I shouldn’t ask for much after everything.”

She wanted to see Kaidan, not that he was surprised.

Regis shrugged.  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.  Not really, anyway, if that’s what this is all about.”  He moved to grab an egg roll and a couple of pieces of chicken, pushing them onto his plate.  “This is Zaeed, our husband.  Apologies for not immediately introducing you two.”

He nodded at her but didn’t offer anything else in response.

“Yes, I thought I recognized him.  I’m Rahna,” she said, belatedly.  “I apologize for the intrusion.  If I caught you off guard, then you most definitely did for me,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Sit,” Zaeed said to Regis’s surprise.  “Kaidan was held up by something, but if you want to speak to him, now’s your chance.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t want to intrude,” she hesitated in her tone, but her hand already went to the chair.  “I’ve already eaten.”

Regis wanted to be a bit of an ass and say she already intruded, but he bit his tongue.  Zaeed seemed to pick up on it, though, hiding a grin behind his drink.  “Sure, go ahead.” “Thanks!” She brightened up, taking a seat.  Their waiter came back and asked if she needed anything.  She asked for a glass of water.

The atmosphere of the table was a bit awkward, Regis and Zaeed digging into their food while she waited for her drink, later sipping at her water after the water brought it by.  

“So,” she started.  “I guess you know everything, Zaeed?”

He nodded.  “We don’t keep secrets from each other.  I know what happened, every goddamn bit.”

“It’s been a long time since then,” she said, not quite meeting their gaze.  “We’ve… you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Never thought the bratty angry kid could become the savior of the galaxy?” He asked but tried to keep it light.  It must’ve failed by the way she seemed to flinch a bit.

Probably not helped by his cybernetics.  He knows his glowing eyes are off-putting to some, and with his scars and general attitude, he’s not the nicest guy out there.

It also doesn’t help that Regis had a crush on Kaidan from the beginning and admittedly, never got on well with Rahna as a result of that.  He tried to be civil for Kaidan’s sake, but it didn’t always work out.

“Well, no–sorry–” she started, but Regis interrupted her.

“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed.  “I was a bitch during BAaT.”

“You really were,” she laughed, and Regis had to hold back a dark look.  “I swear I’ve never seen anyone so jealous.  Kind of surprised me to see your wedding pictures on the ‘net… hell, my husband immediately showed me the details.”  Regis held back a frown.

Married and with a spouse who knows at least some of the details from BAaT.

“You’re married?” Regis asked, not noticing a ring on her finger.  She was, however, wearing a necklace with the pendant noticeably tucked into her neckline.  Regis didn't think anything of it, often doing the same with his rings, keeping him close to his chest.

“I am, yes,  Nearly ten years now,” she said.

Zaeed gave Regis a questioning look before asking, “Regis can be a jealous bastard at times, yes, but never with us and what we have.  What are you trying to pull?”

Regis wasn’t going to comment on it, but Zaeed had a point. 

She frowned.  “I’m not trying to pull anything.  Last I saw Regis… well, it’s not important.  Sorry if I caused any offense.”

Regis waved it off, but something about her comment still stung.  He wasn’t about to fully let it go, throwing out one last comment.  “Communication is key, and one thing that we’ve always tried to be good at.  Only way we can make this work.  Didn’t really have a lot of that back in the day, did we?  Goes a long way to clearing the air.”

Her face stayed carefully stoic.  “It’s good that you both found so much happiness despite everything.”

More like in spite of everything.  Regis dropped it, for now.  Now’s not really the time to be petty, but a small, dark, and vindictive part of him was happy that he was the one that helped Kaidan in the end.   “I’m glad to hear you did well, too.  Still use your biotics?  Or did you go for the program to tamper down the L2s?”

She nodded, loosening up a bit.  “You and Miss Lawson did incredible work on that, by the way.  Yes, I went for the reduction.  Wore a low-power, low-energy amp for years until you came up with that method.  I feel… a lot freer now.”

Regis and Miranda spent time trying to improve amp and implant structure, as well as introducing more ways to use cybernetics in the field of medicine.  Kaidan’s biotic school was his pet project; Regis’s was his cybernetics programs.  With Miranda’s knowledge from Lazarus, they were able to reverse engineer parts of the L2 and give recipients of the implants two major choices: refit with an upgraded implant with fewer risks, or downgrade down and lose most, if not all biotic ability.  Vikram also got involved, using their centuries of medical experience and biotic implant knowledge to get their methods out there.  A third, lesser chosen option was to retrofit the L2 with some improvements to further reduce risk, but not all side effects were lost. 

Kaidan, like him, still uses the L2.  It’s been a successful program, and these days Regis is happy enough to spend his time overseeing that.  He’s still an Admiral and a Spectre, but not as out in the field as much.

The Normandy is in new hands.  Much of the crew has gone their separate, but happy ways.  And soon enough, Regis might find himself living damn near full time on a space station.

Who knew?

“I’m glad to hear it’s been useful to you,” Regis said, hoping the sincerity was coming through.  “BAaT made many things clear to us.”

“If I ever have kids who manifest, I know who I’m sending them to.  I really should be saying this to him, but…” she trailed off, and Regis had a feeling he knew what she was about to say.

Before Regis could say anything, his omnitool pinged.

KA: Meeting’s done, I’m heading down as fast as humanly possible.

Zaeed opened his omnitool and a smirk appeared on his face.  Oh no.

ZM: Could it have been an email?

Regis rolled his eyes and gave him a pointed look.  Rahna looked at them in a hilarious expression of pure confusion.

KA: No, Zee, it couldn’t. ZM: Dammit.  Anyway, we have company. KA: You… do?

RS: What Zaeed is trying to say is that we ran into someone unexpected.  Rahna.

Kaidan started typing and stopped, and then started again, and then stopped again.

Finally, he sent a message.

KA: Wow.  That is unexpected.  I guess she wants to talk to me?

RS: I’ve gotten that impression, but we’ve had a good conversation so far.  I won’t spoil all the details.   KA: Of course not.  Be there soon. XX

Regis and Zaeed sent kisses in response before powering off their tools.

“He’s on his way,” Regis said, and she immediately seemed to tense back up.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Zaeed said, his voice taking on a tender tone.  

“I really shouldn’t be worried.  Kaidan was always such a sweetheart, and then–” She made a motion with her hand.  “That was all I could see.  Still see, sometimes.”

Regis wasn’t about to admit that Vyrnnus stopped haunting his dreams many, many years ago.  Kaidan coming in and saving the day changed the narrative for him.

Instead for her, it was likely another nightmare.  He understands.  Being an Alliance spacer kid meant he was used to death, to an extent, already getting some training for self-defense and shooting lessons.  

Someone like her?  A good life with a rich family?  

“Something tells me you never saw it that way,” she continued.

“Why?  Because of my feelings for Kaidan?  Or because of what I’ve become with my Alliance career?” Regis asked.  He didn’t want to be accusatory, but quite frankly, he wanted to know where she was going with that.

If she says Torfan, he might just get up and leave.

“No.  I could see it in you when you Stasised him.  You claimed the power shift was accidental, but was it really?  I remember you talking all the time about your uncle who should’ve been the one training you, and that Vyrnnus will get his one day,” she admitted carefully.

Damn.  He had to give her props for that, but he hated her tone, as if she was trying to trap him into admitting something.  

Regis took a few bites of his chicken before pushing the plate away, washing it down with a bit of lemonade.  “It was accidental. I did want to Stasis the son of a bitch.  But sometimes, biotics can be just as much about intent as it is about the mnemonic.”

He made sure her gaze was locked onto his. “The only thing I would change would be to trade places with Kaidan.”

She looked away. “How could you… never mind.  It… messed him up, didn't it.”

“That's an understatement if I've ever heard one,” Regis scoffed. “But I'm not really the one you should be saying this to. I wasn't shunned, he was.  And all of you were blind to what he did to save us all.”

But Kaidan forgave her and them a long time ago.  Regis wanted him to forget about them, they were nothing.  Yet, that wasn’t Kaidan.

“You grew up knowing biotics.  None of us did!  And we saw what we could do if we were pushed too far, what we could do to each other.  He broke my arm, and the next thing I knew, he was dead!  Was killing him really the answer?”

Yes, it was, he wanted to yell. 

“I don't blame you for feeling that way, but a strong support from all the students who suffered under his torture would've gone a long way.  Thankfully, he was cleared anyway, as was I,” Regis replied, choosing not to rise to the bait. “That kick he managed is nothing compared to what we can do.  Being scared of what we can do is probably what they wanted anyway. As far as I know, Kaidan and I were some of the only L2s that actually went somewhere in the Alliance.”

Zaeed whistled, getting their attention.  He held up his omnitool. “He’s about to be here, coming up from the elevator.”

Rahna settled back down in her seat.  “I kept in contact with some.  You're right, most of us found ways to get rid of our ‘gift.’ You, however, can't blame us for how we felt.  I was a scared teenager in immense pain, and–”  She stopped, her gaze focusing on something behind him.

Regis opened his mouth to reply, but Kaidan cleared his throat behind them. Ah, right. How much did he hear?

He sat down in the seat between Zaeed and Rahna. 

“Looks like you've been having a productive conversation without me,” he said diplomatically, nodding at Rahna. “Good to see you. You look well.”

Regis could tell Kaidan was keeping his voice carefully steady, carefully flat.  Not a good sign. 

“You do too,” she said, her voice taking on a similar tone. “Married and Alliance life seems to be treating you well.”

“That it has,” he said, breaking out into a genuine smile.  It was quickly lost.  “I could tell things were a bit tense when I arrived.”

“It's not easy talking about BAaT,” she began. 

“No shit,” Regis interjected.  Kaidan gave him a sharp look. 

“What, I'm not wrong!” Regis said, defending himself. 

“No, but you don't have to be an ass about it,” Kaidan said with a sigh. 

Regis rolled his eyes but stayed silent anyway. 

The waiter came back by. “Ah, your third has come!  Would you like for me to put your usual in?”

“Might as well,” Kaidan said. “Unless you have any objections?  Rahna, would you like anything?”

Still dancing around the main topic. 

“No, I’ve eaten already.  Thanks anyway,” she said.  

“Our usual, then,” Kaidan said. “And could you give us some privacy?”

“Of course.  Just signal for me if you need anything.  I’ll return with your food,” they said before walking off, returning a moment later to give Kaidan a pint of beer. 

Kaidan took a long, slow sip of his drink before breaking the silence.  “Why exactly did you want to talk to me, Rahna?  To apologize?”

“Well–yes,” she started to say.  “I never knew what happened to you, other than hearing that BAaT was shut down.  And then years later you appear in the news, and kept appearing…”

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Kaidan said.  “And honestly?  I don’t want to hear it.  It’s long been in the past.  We were kids.”

“You did?” She looked at Regis, who decided to say nothing.  He knew that Kaidan did.  He could’ve told her and sent her on her merry little way, but he couldn’t help being curious about what she wanted to say to Kaidan after all these years.

Hell, even Regis couldn’t really blame everyone for their reactions, but that didn’t mean he wanted to invite anyone over for drinks and reminiscing anytime soon.  It was a betrayal, no matter how anyone framed it.  “But–”

“But what?” Regis asked.  “You heard him.  It’s done.  And I made sure he could work through it, as the only kid there who stood with him.”

“Regis…” Kaidan started, giving him a warning look.

“What?  It’s true.  I’m not the only reason why you were able to be comfortable as a biotic again, but I sure as hell helped,” Regis said, not backing down.

Rahna shook her head, standing up.  “I don’t even know why I bothered with your goddamn guard dog here.  It was good seeing you, Kaidan, and I’m glad life has treated you well.  Regis?  Thank you for your cybernetics program, but honestly, I shouldn’t have expected anything different out of you.”  She gave Zaeed a nod, who inclined his head in response.  Regis couldn’t even tell what he was thinking right now.

“Rahna, wait,” Kaidan said, standing up.  

“I’ll go,” Regis said, standing up and tossing his napkin on the table.  “Tell Alyx to pack my food for to-go.  I’ll be in the Spectre range if you need me.”

This is purely between Kaidan and Rahna.  He doesn’t need to be there, especially when his opinions haven’t changed after all these years.

Kaidan risked punishment after he broke free of his guards to try and clear the air, to talk to her before he was sent away.  Hell, he remembered Kaidan recalling the guards drawing their weapons when he flared out, trying to get one last moment with her, to explain himself and get what to understand. 

And she turned away with only a goodbye.

Regis walked off without a second glance back, hearing Kaidan call his name as he rounded the corner to the elevators.  He pressed the call button and stopped to put his earbuds in when he saw Zaeed walking towards him with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Did Kaidan send you after me?” Regis asked, crossing his arms.

“No, I left because their conversation is none of my goddamn business.”

Fair enough.  It had to be awkward for him. 

“Are you going to say it's mine?”

He shrugged.  “I know what you went through, but is she really the bad guy here?”

The elevator doors opened.  They stepped inside, Zaeed moving to hold his hand.  Regis couldn’t help but smile.

Regis inputted their destination.  “No, but she represents everything that caused Kaidan to shrink into himself.  He was confident, open with his biotics.  Directly after?  Well, everyone was terrified.  But Rahna?  She turned away from him after he tried to fight to talk to her one last time.” Zaeed nodded.  “Kaidan told me everything.”

“I know.”

“And you also told me everything.”

The doors opened and they stepped outside, making their way to the Spectre office tucked away in the embassies.  “What are you trying to say?”

“Both of you are too damn biased when it comes to her.  His crush on her has long since fizzled out, but he still cares for her.  Your opinions on her haven’t changed one bit.”

“Neither has hers on me,” he scoffed.  “We were never that civil with each other, although we tried to be for appearances.  Also to save ourselves from punishment.  Can’t be seen fighting.”

Zaeed grumbled out a curse.  “The more I hear about what you went through, the happier I am he is rotting somewhere.”

“You know I’ll drink to that.”

As they walked up the stairs, they noticed a familiar face about to enter the offices.  Ashley was waving her credentials to the door, clothed in a comfy techwear inspired outfit.  “What the hell are you two doing here?” she asked, keeping the door open for them.

Regis nodded at her in thanks, barely listening to the VI announce their Spectre statuses and Zaeed’s associate status.  “Long story.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she replied, rolling her eyes.  “Thought the three of you were supposed to be on some hot date.  What happened?  Clearly not a fight, but something… I don’t know… awkward?”

She knows them too damn well.

“Right on the money, Ash,” Zaeed replied, sitting down in front of the range.  “How much do you know about BAaT?”

She made a face.  “Oh no.  What happened?  I don’t know like, everything, but I know how it shut down.”

“Then you know enough,” Regis sighed.  “Did Kaidan ever mention someone named Rahna to you?”

She nodded.  “Break during N training.  Yeah, he talked a bit about BAaT and you and what he did in the end to protect her.  Was a bit tight lipped about her, though.  All I was able to get out of him was that they stopped talking after what happened.”

Regis pulled a face.  “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

He started to tell his version of the story, but Zaeed cut him off.  “No, you’re too goddamn biased.”

“And you aren’t?” Regis asked.  Ashley looked between them and shook her head.

“Least biased about her,” Zaeed said, putting his hand over Regis’s mouth.  Ashley laughed. He licked it and when Zaeed didn’t budge, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

Zaeed told her what was, admittedly, a nicer version of what Regis would’ve described, removing his hand from his mouth in the middle of the story.

“Yeah, can hold one hell of a grudge.  You were jealous,” Ashley said, giving him an unimpressed look.  “Not that I’m surprised, but even after all this time?  You got the man–you got two men–and you’re still trying to pick a fight with her?”

“It’s not about what Kaidan felt for her.  It’s about what she represents,” Regis said.  “Kaidan struggled to see himself as a biotic, as someone who was even human.  I wasn’t scared of him, but I sure as hell was scared for him after seeing the rest of our class stepping away from him after what he did.  Rahna said he was Mr. Popular, but hell, she was the queen.  And I get why.  She was nice, always willing to lend an ear, knowing what to say… but that day, I saw nothing but betrayal.  We were saved from our goddamn torturer, and yet suddenly, he wasn't the only monster in the room.”

Ashley sat down next to him.  “God… I knew it was bad, but even from your perspective… they must’ve grilled the both of you.”

“I got off easy compared to him,” Regis said quietly.  “Thankfully, the higher ups saw it in a similar way, as did the turian courts, but the damage was already done.  I made sure we stayed in contact, and I was there for him when I could be in-between my studies and his own online programs.” Regis closed his eyes.  “I remember something he said one night.  We were still young, not even enlisted yet…”

Kaidan brought him to their apple tree.  A large one up on a hill, all by its lonesome away from the rest of the orchard.  It was special, one of the first on the property.  Or something.  It seemed to have a lot of stories. Either way, it was Regis’s favorite.  Away from prying eyes.  An inspiration for the tattoo of the tree on his right arm, combined with Norse imagery to be his own yggdrasil.     They kissed each other, soft and sweetly on a warm blanket, underneath the starry sky.  In between kisses and loving words, Kaidan said something to him that nearly broke his heart, the way his voice rasped and cracked.  “Regis, you make me feel human.” “I shouldn’t have to.  You are human, every glowing bit of you.” “Yes, yes, I know… how many times have we had this discussion?” “Far too many.  But if me being here with you helps…. I don't plan on leaving anytime soon.” Kaidan kissed him again, this time with more heat and passion behind it.  Regis returned it with the same intensity, pulling him in close to press up against him. “Kaidan, I love you,” he said, breathing out those special words for the first time against his lips.  “I love you, too, Regis,” he replied. And they enjoyed their night together underneath the stars.

Regis left that last bit out when recounting the story–for Ash’s sake, Zaeed has already experienced the ‘Alenko Tradition’ a few times.  “That’s why I can’t simply bring myself to forgive and forget.  Or hell, to forgive and not forget.  Whatever.”

“I guess I get it,” Ashley said, “even if I do think you should’ve at least tried to be nice about it.  But then, I remember who I’m talking to…”  

Regis shrugged.  “I tried, I honestly did.  But then she looked at me when Kaidan said he forgave her a long time ago and  I couldn’t help it.”

“Sometimes it is best to just walk away,” she sighed.  “Well, want to vent your frustrations against a couple of targets and prototypes?” She pointed behind her to the range, and Regis was glad to finally stop talking about goddamn BAaT.

“That’s why we’re here,” Zaeed grinned.  “Lead the way, Ash.  I’m looking forward to seeing what secret shit is back there this quarter.”

– –

They weren’t in the range long, testing out some new HK guns and modifications.  Regis was quite impressed with their new pistol line, but its handling still paled in comparison to his faithful Eagle line.

Either way, it was fun shooting the shit with Zaeed and Ashley, with some friendly competition thrown in for good measure.  Regis still reigned supreme with snipers, but he could concede to their handling with other weapons.

To this day he still holds some of the best marksman records at the Villa.

In between rounds, his omnitool pinged.  He removed the heat sink from the pistol and placed it on the bench, checking his omnitool with a raised eyebrow when he saw who it was from.

KA: She’s gone, if you want to come back and heat up your food when you get home. RS: We’re at the range.  Ran into Ash.  Did… everything go well? KA: Come home and find out.

A moment later, Regis saw his monitoring logs pop up with a message.  

Kaidan Alenko logged out of the server.

Zaeed shook his head and started to place the Spectre modified Harrier back on the rack.  

“That’s… not a good sign from either of you,” Ashley observed.  “Need me to come with for backup?”

Regis damn near took her up on the offer because for once he couldn’t read Kaidan through text.  “No, this is my shit and I’ll deal with it.”

“I think you’re making this out to be far goddamn worse than it actually is.  I doubt he’s mad, just annoyed,” Zaeed said, crossing his arms.  

“Which is arguably worse,” Regis sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “I wish I never told Alyx to bring her over.”

“No, you don’t,” Zaeed rolled his eyes.  “You enjoyed finally being able to tell her how you feel.  You just don’t like that Kaidan was nice about it.”

Regis stayed silent, which was answer enough by the way Ashley laughed at him.  “Don’t keep your man waiting.  We can do this together another time.”

“Next time, with all three of us,” Regis said, giving her a hug.  She returned it tightly before waiving them off.

The trip back to the elevators and later to a rapid transit terminal went fast enough, but now in a bit of a haste to see Kaidan and figure out what had happened during their conversation.

Logging out was deliberate.  They typically stay idle most of the time, never logging out unless they need to go dark for a mission. 

Regis wasn’t sure what to make of it.  And neither did Zaeed, by the way he kept glancing over to him in the skycar.  Caught in the middle of something that he was never a part of.  He kept a reassuring grip on Regis’s hand, holding it tight between them.  

Once they exited the skycar on the Strip, they made quick work getting up to the apartment, not wanting to delay any further.  

Regis unlocked the door and saw Kaidan inside, on the couch next to the fireplace, curled up the knitted red, blue, and yellow blanket Hannah got for them as part of her wedding gift.

He knew the red and blue version that Adrian gave to them before they enlisted was secretly from her, but never said anything.  That next gift was her way of knowing that he knew.

Things have changed some since he was an angry teenager who just wanted more freedom.

Regis took a moment to kneel down and take off his boots before joining him on the couch.  Kaidan smiled at them and grabbed the blanket, motioning for them to join him.

Maybe things were going to be better than Regis had thought. Maybe him logging out was the signal that meant he wanted some comfort from them as soon as possible.

Regis curled up next to Kaidan, with Zaeed joining them a moment later, making sure the blanket was all settled over them as they cuddled up on their large, comfy couch.  Regis noticed a mug full of something steaming and hot.  He inhaled and smelled a hint of chocolate and sugar.

“Did you two have fun with Ash?” he asked, breaking the silence.  “Heard we got a new shipment of toys to try out.”

Regis wasn’t going to comment on the obvious distraction from the main issue at hand.

“It did, and we did try out some new shit.  Regis still thinks his damn Eagle is the best thing on the market, which is a fucking lie if I ever heard one,” Zaeed said, pressing a kiss on the back of Regis’s neck where his old biotic squad symbol tattoo lied.  

Regis smiled, knowing the man behind him couldn’t see it.  “You just don’t have any damn taste.”

“Look at who is sitting on this goddamn couch with me and ask me that again,” he replied, throwing an arm around him.

Kaidan moved to lean against Regis’s chest, which prompted him to lean into Zaeed’s.  “You won’t be winning that argument, love,” he chuckled.  “We’ll need to meet up with her and get a good performance review to… HK, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Regis hummed.  He kissed the back of Kaidan’s head.  “What’s going on in that head of yours?  I’m sorry for bailing on you.”

“I hear a ‘but,’” Kaidan said, but it was good-naturedly.  “No, you’re not.  And that’s perfectly fine.”

“But what isn’t fine?” Regis asked.  “What’s going on?” he repeated once more.

Kaidna let out a long, slow sigh.  “We had a conversation.  Caught up with her and how she’s doing.  Kept dodging her insistence there was something she needed to apologize for.  At this time?  Really didn’t fucking matter to me.  I worked through it, it's all in the past.  She tried to get a snide word in or two about you, which well, I expected that.  I’m sure you did the same to her, only fair.”  Zaeed snorted at that.  Regis didn’t deny his observation.  Kaidan turned a bit so he could look at Regis.  “No, it went fine.  Just… throughout that conversation, I wondered if BAaT had weighed far heavier on her than it did for you and me, even after what we did.”

It took him a few years to wear him down and change the language to ‘we’ and not just ‘I’ when it came to their role in taking down Vyrnnus.   Because Regis was involved.  That Stasis changed everything.  Gave Kaidan the perfect shot.

How could he ever say it was only him?

“I’m sure it did,” Regis said.  “Her arm was broken badly by our abuser.  Of course it changed her in ways that we can’t ever relate to.”

“That’s probably one of the nicest things you’ll say about her,” Zaeed murmured, just loud enough for the both of them to hear.  Kaidan sent him a jolt of dark energy in response, enough to sting like a pinch.

“Anyway,” Regis turned to give Zaeed a look.  “None of us came out of Jump Zero the same way we were when we came in.  She had a few things to contend with…”

“Vyrnnus, me, and what we went through at BAaT,” Kaidan finished for him.  “I think a part of her wanted to apologize probably more for her sake than mine.  I get it, but I worked through it.  And she needed to understand that.”

“Would you have preferred if I told her that right from the beginning?” Regis asked.

She probably wouldn’t have believed him anyway, but at least his heart would’ve been in the “right place.”  

Kaidan came to the same conclusion.  “Nah.  I get the impression she would’ve thought you were trying to get her to go away.  Why did you say yes anyway?”

Regis shrugged.  “Curiosity.  Wanted to see how she was doing, but also, I couldn’t help myself.  Sorry.”

“You are not sorry,” Kaidan gave him an unimpressed look, but that was about usual with them, with a smile tugging at his lips.  He shook his head.  “She offered her link, but I didn’t accept it.  Just said if she needed anything concerning biotics to contact you or me through our respective programs.”

“How did she take that?” Zaeed asked. 

“Fine,” Kaidan replied.  “She did spend a lot of time being so surprised about my relationship.  She got the Regis part–” Regis snorted at that.  “--but not so much you.  I told her I fell in love with two incredible men at two points in my life and I couldn’t see life any different.”

Zaeed leaned over Regis to peck Kaidan on the lips.  “You’re too goddamn sweet.”

“Well, wasn’t it more like I fell in love with two incredibly hot, powerful men and dragged you along with my decisions?” Regis added.

To be fair, it didn’t take long for Regis to explain to Kaidan the feelings he felt for Zaeed, and once he was done, Kaidan told him point blank that he found him attractive too.  And later that evening… Regis was in bed with Zaeed.

Good times.

“Doesn’t matter how it started.  Only thing that matters is how it ended up in the end,” Kaidan said with a grin, moving to kiss Regis after Zaeed settled back down beside him.  “I am glad I was able to talk to her, if only for my younger self’s sake,” Kaidan continued, fixing the blanket over them.  “Good thing my meeting didn’t go over as much as I thought it would.”

“What was it about anyway?  Considering you said it couldn’t be a goddamn email, it must’ve been a little important.”

“More stuff about our return to Arcturus and what that means for staffing, the program… all that boring shit as you like to call it,” he replied.  “Nothing crazy, just part of the routine.”

“Already planning the curriculum you want me to teach?” Regis teased.  

“Possibly.  Might keep you on as an adjunct.  I don’t think you can tolerate dealing with kids all day.”

“Eh, I can always split my time between the Villa and the Alenko Academy since we’ll be in Sol,” Regis mused.  “Hell, I might enjoy working with kids.  Dealing with N recruits is basically the same thing!”

“And where do I fit into this?” Zaeed asked with a chuckle.  

“You loved the Villa when we visited.  Hell, they’ll be happy to have someone who can help recreate training sims with crazy scenarios,” Regis said.  “Or you can be our loving husband.  Whichever suits you best.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured.  “Peace sure is nice.”

“Yeah,” Regis said, sprawling out between his husbands.  “It sure is.”

Later that evening, Miranda sent him a link to a glowing review of their program, made by an anonymous RA.

This program has given me the opportunity to live my life the way I want to. I encourage anyone who needs a refit within the L2 generation to look into getting a work-up done to see what will work best for you. While I personally chose to remove my L2 and replace it with something that will give me as close to a biotic-free life as possible, that's not the only option for us. I could've gotten a better model that will help me fine-tune my biotics with fewer advers eeffects. Along with their endorsement by the Alenko Academy, I see no reason to not use their services as a human biotic of any generation. Shepard, Lawson, T'Lara, and the rest of their team are gifts to our community, and I hope they can change the lives of many others.

She followed the request with a call.

"Happen to know who this is from?" she asked in greeting.

"I might," Regis replied, watching Kaidan and Zaeed move around in the kitchen, heating up their leftovers and putting together some frozen cookie dough Regis had made a couple of nights prior. "Old classmate of ours from BAaT."

"We've had a few BAaT participates come in, haven't we? But it's been months. Why now, other than to give a longer term view... it just got me curious."

"Now that's going to be a long story in of itself," Regis admitted. "Take a rain check on that?"

She laughed. "Sure, Regis. You don't have to tell me all the details about BAaT. Enjoy your evening."

"You too, Miranda. Say hi to Ashley for me."

"Will do. She's definitely ready to kick all your asses in the range."

"I look forward to it. Why don't you join us for a round? Maybe we can have a big Armax meetup while we're still on the Citadel."

"Sounds great! I won't take up any more of your time."

She ended the call, and Regis got up to surprise his husbands and their cooking, making sure they don't mess up his favorite cookie dough recipe.

Maybe things are okay, if she left that kind of review. He wondered for a moment what Kaidan may have said to prompt that, but cast that thought out quickly.

BAaT and nearly everything about it is best left in the past.

Except for the gift it gave in the form of Kaidan.

[chilumi-shipper]

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

[freakyformula]

Making a dream come true

Summary: Lewis and reader make their plans of getting kids come true.

Warnings: Mostly smut, little bit of a plot, talks of pregnancy, oral (both receiving), creampie, praise kink, slight degradation kink, cum play, not proofread

Word count: 2,1k

Lewis carefully studied your delicate features as you curled up against him with your back to his front on the sofa of your shared apartment. Did you doze off? You had no idea, all you knew was that multiple episodes of your favourite rom-com had passed and the day was coming to an end. Lewis was holding you tightly as if he was afraid you'd escape from his reach if he let go. You snuggled into your heated blanket and Lewis couldn't help giggling, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You were always cold, that was just part of who you were. Lewis, on the other hand, was like a heater, your personal element.

Now and again he'd hum softly in your shoulder, feeling at peace with you by his side. His big and puffy lips would place kisses all the way from behind your ear down to your collarbone, taking his time, he was in no rush. His hands were busy caressing your hip and back, drawing carefully chosen figures on your warm skin.

"Lewis, I need to start on dinner…" You break the silence as you buck your ass against him, while Lewis mimics your movements with a couple of thrusts of his own, the words coming out of your mouth not sounding convincing at all.

"Balderdash, Y/N. I think you should stay here." He counters as his hand moves down to your stomach, carefully stroking up and down. His other arm snaked around your neck, pulling your face up to his. "I'm putting a baby in here tonight." He coos as he tickles your lower belly, making you laugh and struggle to get free.

His words made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes had been shut before but now they were wide open, staring at the man. Lately, he'd mentioned kids more often than usual.

You agreed early on in your relationship that you wanted kids, but the timing never felt right, even after dating for 6 years. Lewis was adamant about not trying for a child as long as he worked as an f1 driver, not wanting to take the risk of getting injured or killed and leaving your eventual child without a father.

You laugh nervously, "What are you implying?"

"Nothing." He says with an unbothered tone, "I've been thinking a lot lately, and I think now would be a good time to have a baby." He sits up and looks down at you. You're still frowning, and processing his words, not knowing what to say. "We're in a stable relationship, we're both healthy and strong, we've been dating for years, we both have good jobs and a home…" He continues.

"But what about your job?" You ask, confused.

"Y/N. I don't care about my job as long as I have you. And realistically, I've got a few more years in Formula 1 left, at most. Besides, I know you would be a fantastic mother. So why not now?" He looks down on you, supporting his weight on his elbow. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

You take a minute to think this through. You knew you wanted kids and you knew that you wanted them with Lewis, there was no question. But was this really the right time, you wondered. You felt ready, but you were scared that Lewis was acting on impulse and would regret it later.

"Okay, Lewis. I'll make a doctor's appointment to have the IUD removed tomorrow."

Lewis lips turn into a wide smile, pulling you into his warm embrace. When he leans closer to give you a kiss, you lose it and crash your lips onto his, beating him to it. You're getting wetter by the second and sit up to straddle his hips. Lewis must think you're rushing, because he pulls away until you're calm and collected, kissing him slowly and grinding against him.

"What do you say about doing some practice before?" He whispers in your ear.

You groan at his words and scuttle back, tugging his shorts down. Your tiny hands reach into the black briefs you gifted him for Christmas last year and grab his growing cock. You begin pumping his wonderful length agonizingly slowly, earning a moan from him. Since your hand did not even come close to reaching around his girth, you had to compensate by using both.

He sat there, with his member in your soft, caring hands, clutching onto the sofa for dear life, moaning and chanting your name. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he grimaces every time you speed up your movements and tutting disapprovingly when you slow down.

Surely, he enjoyed the treatment you gave him, but he was desperate to feel your velvety walls around his cock. He pulls you off him, laying you down on the sofa with him hovering over you.

He quickly removes your sweatpants, dragging your panties with them, exposing your already soaked pussy.

"Gotta make you ready for me…" He whispers as he starts circling your clit. You yelp as you feel his touch on you, delicious and warm.

Soon enough, he adds a finger, and then another one. "So fucking tight for me, baby." He coos and looks up at you fondly. You picked your legs up to adjust the angle, letting him in further and letting him hit that sweet spot. You're quickly screaming his name and convulsing, coming for the first time of the night.

Lewis was rock hard at this point, and lined himself up with your entrance. He gave himself a couple of pumps before he started pressing his way inside you.

You let out a whimper, the stretch feeling overwhelming.

"Shhhh, you're okay." Lewis whispers as he nibbles on your ear.

When he bottoms out, he catches your wide-open gape in a wet kiss, closing out the loud moan that threatens to come out of your mouth.

His pace is slow at first, but quickens when he feels your walls flutter, knowing you're getting closer to your second release. Soon enough, you're yelling out your second orgasm, and Lewis follows soon after, pumping his load inside of you.

He leans down on his elbows and gives you a kiss before he pulls out and half-runs to the bathroom to grab a towel. He thoroughly cleans you up before you order takeout and spend the rest of the night in bed, falling asleep early.

The day after, you're up before Lewis to make the appointment. You weren't looking forward to the doctors but knowing Lewis, he would demand being there with you. Bringing him along to anything was always a huge comfort, as he'd reassure you no matter what the matter was.

The appointment was later in the afternoon, and until then, you paced around the house, unable to do anything productive. You were clearly nervous, and Lewis struggled to find a way to ground you, until he sat you down on the sofa and helped you do some breathing exercises. That seemed to do the trick for you.

And then came the dreaded doctors appointment, and as promised, Lewis sat by your side, squeezing your hand as the doctor pulled your IUD out.

"And... It's out!" The doctor said and gave you a warm smile. "You might experience some spotting the first few days but other than that, you should be fine."

"Thank you, doctor." You shake his hand and get dressed as Lewis follows the doctor outside, giving you some much needed privacy.

As soon as you leave the doctors office, Lewis' hands are on you. He'd drive with one hand and keep his other hand on your thigh, looking over to check on you, and praise you on how well you did at the doctors.

"Did so well, sweetheart. Now we can start trying for real... I'm so excited and I hope you are too." He looks over at you with a questioning look.

"Of course I am, Lewis. Just nervous."

"I know, so am I. But in the same time, I can't wait to see you pregnant with my child. I wonder what they will look like..." He daydreams.

You laugh, giving him a small nudge, not wanting him to get ahead of himself.

When you step inside the door to your home, Lewis grabs you from behind and grinds his already hard cock against you. You hadn't noticed the outline of him before, but it definetly felt prominent now.

You turn around in his grasp and lean in for a kiss which he enthusiastically accepts.

"Want to fuck a baby into you so bad..." He whispers into your ear.

"Then do it, I'm ready." You look up at him, giving him a nod, and you start unzipping the vest he was wearing.

"Ohh, baby... You're driving me mad." He admits as he unbuttons your oversized jeans.

You make it from the hallway into your bedroom. When you feel the bed behind your knees, you collapse on top with Lewis following close behind, ending up on top of you.

The kiss that follows is heated, it's as if you're making love for the first time again. Lewis explores your body all over again, and his hands move from your arms to your abdomen, to your thighs and up again. When you feel his kiss on your chest, you moan, and when he moves further down, you moan even louder.

"Are you sure you want this?" He checks in.

"Please, Lewis... Need you." You confirm.

"Good girl."

Goddamn, Lewis knew exactly how to get you worked up and ready for him.

When you feel his head between your legs, you look down, and his eyes look up at you. You nod at him, giving him permission to dive in if he wants to. He takes a moment to smell you, the scent of greek yogurt evident. He sticks his tongue out and places a tiny lick along your slit. You feel yourself losing control of your body and surrender to him.

"More, please, Lewis." You beg.

He looks up at you with a teasing smile. "Such a pretty, needy slut for me."

You feel his mouth on your clit and his fingers teasing your entrance, preparing you for the upcoming intrusion. The moan you let out is pornographic, which almost startles Lewis, and the vibration of his moans pushes you over the edge. As you're struggling and panting on the bed, he continues eating, sucking and licking your clit, prolonging your orgasm.

When you've come down from your release, he pushes two fingers in, stretching you deliciously. And then, a third. Two was just enough for you and three felt like too much but you knew that you'd have to endure it, soon you'd have something much bigger in you and Lewis wanted you to be ready for it.

"I want to make you feel good too." You sit up, ready to take him into your hands.

"I'd love to, but right now, I just need you to take it." And with that, he pulls off his pants in a swift move and instructs you on all fours.

"Ready?" He asks.

And as you nod, he lines himself up with you and gives you a few teasing pushes. When the tip finds its way inside you, you yelp, the sudden pain startling you. Even though you and Lewis had been dating for so long, you still hadn't gotten used to his size. He was well-equipped, that was for sure.

"I'm not pulling out until I'm sure it stuck."

His words makes your eyes roll back, and as you feel his tip against your cervix you both moan out. "Fuck, Lewis!"

His praise alone pushes you over the edge, you were sure of it.

"You feel so good"

"Doing so well for me"

"Such a good girl for me"

"Look at you, so pretty"

And as you're cumming for the second time, he continues praising you, his voice hypnotizing.

You pull him down to your lips, meeting him halfway in a almost desperate kiss. You feel him getting close as his thrusts become irregular and sloppy. You whine into the kiss when he slams into you, spilling his seed, filling you full of his cum.

As you're both coming down from your high, sweaty and out of breath, you can't help smiling. This felt so right.

When he pulls out, he goes down to study his cum threatening to spill out of you. He stuffs all of it back in again, not wanting a drop of his valuable seed to go to waste.

"What if this is it? I mean, if this is the day we actually get pregnant." You ask.

"In that case, I'm the happiest man in the world."

You take a moment to take it all in. Lewis seemingly doing the same thing. You're lost in each others eyes when Lewis finally breaks the silence.

"I love you so much, Y/N. So much.

You sit up and stroke his jaw, "I love you too."

[fyodior]

toji x afab reader, 18+ minors dni!! breeding kink, pregnancy kink, slight size kink (big dick toji yet again), daddy kink, lots of pet names, a bit cheesy at the end, 1.3k words

“Hello? Toji, my love? You there?” you laughed, waving a hand in his face. Currently sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner together, your lover had suddenly fallen into a daze, tapping out of the casual conversation the two of you had been having as he stared into the distance.

“Oh, uh- yeah,” he stuttered, shaking his head. “What were we talking about again?”

Toji had been in a��� funk all day. Ever since the two of you had been out running errands earlier that afternoon and had somehow continuously run into baby after baby.

In the grocery store, as you parsed through the avocados to determine the most appropriately ripe ones, one baby in a carrier and one held on one hip by its mother walked past, both giggling and flashing toothless smiles at him. He was enamored.

The way their chubby limbs flailed spastically as they were discovering how their bodies worked, the little bald spots that decorated their fuzzy heads, the cute matching outfits the moms had dressed them in… suddenly all of it was getting to Toji. He had always figured he’d wanted a family at some point, but the timing never felt right - he never felt ready. But now he wanted it.

Not only did he want to experience taking care of his own little one, but he really, really wanted to get you pregnant. The thought of filling you with his seed and spending the better part of a year growing his child was driving Toji fucking crazy. Seeing your stomach swell and slowly grow out of your clothes, or you waddling down the hallway, supporting the small of your back with one hand and the underside of your large belly with the other… That’s what was on Toji’s mind, instead of the mundane dinner conversation he should’ve been engaging in. He couldn’t help it though.

“What’s going through your mind, babe?” you asked, taking another bite of rice.

“Honestly?”

“I guess…”

“Getting you pregnant. Having babies. You and I starting a family,” he admitted plainly.

“Oh?” you questioned, raising a brow. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.” You couldn’t help but agree that it sounded enticing.

He smirked. “Just can’t help but daydream about how fucking sexy you’d look like that. Carrying my baby.”

Your hand instinctively came to rest on your stomach - now he had you thinking about it too. It would be a lie to say the idea didn’t make you a little nervous though, it was all so sudden. But suddenly Toji was rising from his chair and leaning on the table, towering over you with a wild look in his emerald eyes and a bulge in his pants.

“I say we go for it,” he smirked.

“Toji, I… I- let’s think on this, okay? This feels really impulsive - we’ve never talked about this before and-”

Your sentence remained forever unfinished as he scooped you out of his chair with his profuse strength and threw you onto your shared bed, the scar that ran through the corner of his lips warping as he smiled and ogled you with fire in his eyes.

Everything was a blur as he haphazardly stripped you of both your bottoms and pressed your knees all the way to your shoulders in a deep mating press, breathing hotly into your neck as his throbbing cock dragged slowly between your lips, gathering your slick before the head prodded at your hole.

“Toji,” you whined, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Call me Daddy tonight,” he whispered directly into your ear before sinking into your tight cunt.

“Oh god!” you cried out, throwing your head back against the pillow and keened as he immediately bottomed out. His impossibly thick cock stretched you and filled you so wide it felt like he was gonna split you in two. Toji, aware of his size, never fucked you with so little foreplay, but he seemed to be in some sort of trance tonight, that made every ounce of his self-control dissipate into thin air.

“Gonna pump you so full of my cum your womb can’t do anything but get pregnant,” he growled as he picked up a rhythm, balls slapping hard against your ass as he fucked you hard and deep. So deep he kissed your cervix with every thrust, pulling involuntary gasps and moans every single time.

“Toj- Daddy,” you corrected yourself. “Please, need it,” you whimpered. It seemed he’d infected you with his desire to breed.

With every passing minute, the idea of getting pregnant was becoming more and more appealing. Of carrying your lover’s babies, being nothing more than a vessel for his seed and to provide him with kids.

To be doted on and pampered endlessly for nine whole months as you glowed and sported a prominent baby bump, one that caught stares and admiration from friends, family, and strangers alike. Symptoms be damned, you couldn’t help but think, no, know, you’d absolutely love being pregnant. Especially by Toji.

And to have a baby the two of you made together, seeing Toji become the amazing dad you knew he could be, was beginning to sound beautiful.

You pulled him in for a messy kiss as he fucked you with so much desperation it felt like your first time again, all teeth and tongue as both of you panted and groaned.

“Fill me up, Daddy, get me pregnant, give us a baby,” you gasped, gripping the underside of your knees and angling your hips to try and grant him the best access possible. To allow him to reach so deep inside you his cum shot directly into your womb.

“Gonna cum any second, baby, give you just what you want,” he smiled, voice breathy and gravelly.

His large hand came to rest on your tummy, rubbing the soft skin and imagining it swollen and full of his baby. Riddled with stretch marks, but so, so beautiful anyway. The thought had him cumming hard, face buried into your neck as he released a full load inside your throbbing cunt. You could feel the hard protrusions of his hip bones as he pressed himself as deep inside you as possible.

“Did so good for me, beautiful,” he smiled, beads of sweat trickling down his face. “God, I love you.”

“Love you so, so much, Toji,” you whined, on the verge of tears. “Wanna have a family with you, keep you around forever.” Your shaky arms wrapped around his neck again to pull him in for a hug, and he laughed as he reciprocated holding you close to his chest.

“Not going anywhere without you, my love,” he mumbled.

“Come lay down now, spoon me, yeah?” you smiled.

“Wait… don’t tell me you thought we were done…” he said, furrowing his brow. “Babies are rarely made with only one round.”

[blackbleedingrose]

Long Lost Morningstar - Part Four

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Seven Virtues' x reader (platonic), Charlie x reader (platonic), Lucifer x reader (platonic), Lilith x reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst/Betrayal

Warning(s): Cursing, lies, betrayal

Notes: FINALLY! I'm sorry this took me forever to post. I was, and still am, dealing with some school stuff. Truthfully it was a little rough trying to get this one out - along with school and work, I am losing motivation to write this. It could be that I burnt myself on Hazbin after reading so many fanfics for days on end until I eventually got tired. I'm still going to be writing this either way, I'd feel bad to suddenly stop out of nowhere. Funny thing is I'll probably feel motivated again once the second season airs. Oh, well. I'll post part five when I can and am able, so please bare with me and hopefully enjoy this long part for the time being. Thank you for your support - I'm really writing this for the ones reading this series and am grateful for your patience.

Words: 3,298

"I-Is that. . . my name? W-Why would my name be in Lucifer's court record?".

After learning about the exterminations (Y/N) wasted no time flying to the archangels' castle - her home.

She needed to know if they knew about the exterminations, and if so. . .

No, there's no way.

The Virtues' duty were to help remain peace and order - there's no way they'd be okay with the murdering of sinners.

Still, the fear and pain she felt for Charlie and Sera's betrayal made her impulsive.

So much so, that she flew past the archangels' secretary and burst through the doors of the meeting room where they were discussing important matters.

The archangel's were shocked to see (Y/N), who had just interrupted their meeting, looking completely disheveled and breathing heavily.

This behavior would normally be unacceptable, and if it were any other seraphim or angel they would be scolded and punished depending on severity of the offense.

But this was their little (Y/N), whose never interrupted their meetings without reason (or when she was a curious infant who somehow wandered in).

Michael stood up from his seat and flew over to his distressed daughter, "(Y/n). What's the matter?".

(Y/n) struggled to catch her breath, her mind and heart racing.

Michael placed his hands on her shoulders, "Deep breathes, sweetheart. Try to calm down". He gently cooed at her trying to help her find her breath and calm her nerves.

When (Y/N) had finally caught her breath she looked up at her father staring right into his eyes, "Did you know?".

Michael furrowed his brows confused, "Know what, sweetheart?".

(Y/N) took a deep breath before looking at him with sorrowful eyes, "About the exterminations."

Michael and the other archangels' were even more confused than before, "What exterminations?".

"The exterminations of the human souls in Hell."

The archangels' eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Michael looked down at his daughter with slight sternness, "What do you mean?".

(Y/N) went on to tell them all about what had happened at the trial from Charlie's hotel, Angel Dust, Sera's betrayal, to Adam's threat towards her cousin.

To say the archangels' were pissed would be a gross understatement.

How dare Sera and Adam play God and order such an atrocity right under their noses - and for it to be going on this long!

They were embarrassed to have been so ignorant.

Michael felt very uneasy about (Y/N)'s interaction with the Princess of Hell.

Yes, he had been aware his brother had birthed a child in Hell and hadn't seen an issue of (Y/n) of knowing as he was confident the two would never meet.

Well, that back fired horribly.

He couldn't discuss that with (Y/N) right now because, other than letting curiosity get the better of her once again, she hadn't done anything wrong.

She was clearly out of sorts with worry. She didn't need anything else but reassurance and comfort.

"Thank you for telling us. Don't worry, we'll be sure to handle this," Michael said trying to comfort his daughter.

"B-But, Charlie," (Y/N)'s breathing spiked, "A-Adam threatened t-to, to!". Tears flowed down to her red cheeks, her eyes red and puffy.

Michael gently shushed her wiping her tears, "Calm down, sweetie. We'll handle everything, especially Adam. Just go to your room and try to relax. I'll tell the staff to get you some tea."

(Y/N) shook her head, "B-But I need to help Charlie. I-I need to do something -,"

"No." Michael's tone was stern but gentle. "This is for the higher ranking angels to handle and you're too emotional right now to think clearly. Let us take care of this."

"Listen to your father, (N/N)." Azrael said his grin more menacing than usual. "And don't fret over Adam, we'll make sure to deal with him personally."

The other archangels' agreed without question. Adam wouldn't get away with making their precious niece cry.

(Y/N) realized her father was right, she was too emotional right now.

She was in no condition to deal with this as she was.

After saying goodbye to her family, (Y/N) went to her room to try and calm down.

Feeling completely exhausted and emotionally drained, (Y/N) passed out the second her head hit her pillow.

The next day (Y/N) woke up later than usual and saw a note on her beside table.

It was from her father telling her not to worry about her duties that day and to just rest.

(Y/N) was grateful to her father, but she was so restless about the trial and the upcoming extermination.

She got ready for the day and went down into the courts archives.

Maybe there was something she could use in the courts records to help Charlie.

Since she was a stenographer, a seraphim, and Michael's daughter no one questioned her being there.

In fact, many of the simps angels there were more than happy to help her.

(Y/N) declined most of their help, not wanting to garner unnecessary attention to what she was looking for or why.

She continued doing this for days making sure to cover her tracks so her father and uncles didn't catch wind of her little excursions.

Which was why most of them were in the dead of night.

She hadn't heard a word of what her father or uncles' were going to do about the exterminations.

But the times she's seen Adam and Lute, the two were still their cocky and douchey selves.

So, she knew the extermination was still on.

Why?

Why haven't the archangels' done anything yet?

What were they waiting for?

A small part of her wondered if they ended up agreeing with Sera and Adam and wanted to keep the exterminations on, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

The archangels' duty was to follow the laws of Heaven, and the exterminations clearly went against that.

There's no way they'd be okay with keeping it going.

Still. . . they weren't working fast enough.

The month was almost over.

So, she continued researching wanting to find anything that would prove Sera and Adam wrong about Hell and prove Charlie's hotel worked or could work.

One night while everyone had turned in, (Y/N) snuck into the ancient archives - court records that dated over billions of years ago.

Maybe there was something in the older court records she could use.

She spent hours going through file after file, pulling out possible references to use, and making piles based on the dates.

The long hours started to get to her, the bags under her eyes more prominent with each passing minute.

Without realizing, her eyes lids shut and she slowly drifted to the side accidently knocking over a large pile she hadn't checked yet.

*THUD*

The sound of the falling files scared her awake.

"Oh shit!"

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes awake before going over to the scattered files. She really hoped no one had heard that thud.

As she was gathering all of the loose documents, there was one file folder that caught her eye. Labeled on the tab was 'Morningstar vs Heaven'.

Morningstar? That was Charlie's last name but this file was in one of the older court piles meaning this file was about -

"Lucifer. . .".

She's never read her uncle's trial record before. . . but if he was anything like Charlie then maybe there was something in those documents that could help her prove her cousin's dreams and beliefs.

After all, it was because of Lucifer's desire and dreams to show humanity free will that gifted humans the ability to dream and choose to be better.

She knew her father would frown at her view on Lucifer, but she had always thought there might have been some merit behind her uncle's choices.

She started to collect the documents, sometimes glancing over certain parts that caught her attention. However, as she was going through the files she saw something in one of the documents that she had never expected to see.

"I-Is that. . . my name? W-Why would my name be in Lucifer's court record?". (Y/N) bit her lip deciding if she should look through it or not.

In the end she decided to go through with it and read the document. It was probably nothing, just her mind playing tricks on her. She had been up for hours, after all.

However, the moment her eyes scanned through each line her heart dropped into her stomach.

Sera: Take the child.Court angels: (takes the infant (Y/N) Morningstar from the arms of her parents, Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith)

"P-Parents?".

The rest of the documents recounted Lucifer and Lilith's guilty verdict, their sentencing to Hell, and the courts final proceedings.

(Y/N) wanted to refuse everything she had read, wanting to call it all lies.

But stenographers, especially in Heaven, cannot lie when recording. The magic imbedded within the typewriter wouldn't allow it.

Still, it just couldn't be true. . . Maybe this was another (Y/N), one she's never met. There was no way it was talking about her.

However, before (Y/N) could attempt to convince herself even more she noticed one final document lying on the floor. She recognized what kind of document it was immediately.

It was a Heavenly Ordinance.

She slowly reached for the golden paper and started to read it.

"By Heavenly decree, it is now ordered that all residents, and new ones to come, are forbidden from tempting humanity or breaking Heaven's rules. All residents must obey and turn from all misguided thoughts, dreams, and or endeavors. All violators will receive punishment. It is also ordered that the Heavenborn seraphim, (Y/N) Morningstar, is now under the care of the Seven Virtues; specifically Archangel Michael Demiugros. The infant's name will be changed to (Y/N) Demiugros. The child will have no connection to Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith, and will be told Michael Demiugros is her father/parent who crafted her from stardust. All Heavenly residents aware of the child's true lineage are forbidden from speaking on the matter. All violators will be punished severely."

(Y/N) felt like she couldn't breath.

Her hands were shaking, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oh, God.

She wanted to deny it and believe all of this was some sick prank.

But even she knew no one in Heaven would dare fake writing a Heavenly Ordinance, let alone play such a cruel prank or joke.

Besides, the Heavenly Seal at the bottom of the document was proof of its authenticity.

Heaven would never allow a fake to be placed with the court records.

It took a while for her to calm down.

Looking at the clock mounted on the wall, she saw how late it was.

The court angels who had the early morning shift would be here in two hours.

Wiping the tears that had gathered in her eyes, she used her magic to help clean up her mess and put all of the documents back into their original places - except for one.

When she started to put Lucifer's file away, she stared at the ordinance.

She paused for a moment before folding it up and shoving it into her pocket.

After everything was put away (Y/N) went back to her room with her mind buzzing and heart racing.

She woke up five hours later to the sound of her alarm.

She felt absolutely exhausted.

At first she thought it had all been a dream, a really bad dream.

But when she checked her pockets and pulled out the folded up golden paper, she knew it wasn't.

She was heartbroken.

The feeling of betrayal and hurt plaguing her soul.

Why?

Why did they lie to her?

Why did they do all of this?

Now everything made sense.

Why she was so restricted from practically everything.

Why everyone in her family kept her so close and away from any of the higher seraphim duties.

Why she really looked like Lilith. . .

To top it all off, the person she had believed to be her father this whole time was actually her uncle.

She truly didn't know how to feel, and she wondered if Charlie knew.

Probably not given how shocked the Hellborn had been to hear she had a 'cousin'.

Though, now she knew why she felt such a strong connection to Charlie.

They were sisters.

And if Charlie hadn't known about her, she doubted Lucifer or Lilith did.

She wondered what else Heaven has lied to her about.

. . . Did they even love her?

If she really was the spawn of the ones who damned humanity, did they only keep her for their own benefit?

Have they actually hated her this entire time?

These thoughts brought tears to her eyes.

The rest of the day as she continued on with her duties, she thought back to her family and her newly discovered ones.

Whenever she interacted with her family in Heaven, she did her best to keep up appearances.

There was no way to tell what would happen if they found out what she knew.

So, she decided to bite her tongue.

No matter how much she wanted to scream and cry.

She wondered if they were even going to do anything about the exterminations.

She was starting to doubt it since she hadn't heard anything new; though, would they even tell her?

And Adam and Lute were as smug as ever.

That made her angelic blood boil.

Did they really hate Lucifer, Charlie, her, and sinners so much that they would allow this atrocity to continue?

Even though it went against everything Heaven stood for?!

No.

(Y/N) wouldn't stand for this.

If she was going to help Charlie, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Luckily, Michael and her other uncles' taught her basic combat.

Hopefully that would at least help her fed off a few exorcists.

The next few days leading up to the extermination, (Y/N) secretly stole some angelic armor and weapons.

She eavesdropped on Adam and Lute trying to find out their plans and the exact time of the extermination.

She even continued to gather information for Charlie to help prove her hotel could work.

She acted as she usually did in front of others to avoid suspicion.

She planned to sneak out the night before the extermination to help Charlie and her hotel prepare for the fight.

She was a little nervous about seeing her newly discovered sister, and possibly her biological father, but she knew she would have to suck it up and wait until after the battle was over.

The morning before the extermination, (Y/N) felt more than prepared - she had everything she needed before tonight.

Everything was going according to plan.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Michael asked the court angel who seemed to be a bit out of sorts.

"W-Well, sir, there seems to be a document missing from one of the court records".

Michael rose a brow, "Okay? Which records?".

"U-Um. . . one of the ancient records, sir."

'Ancient records?'

Michael's brows furrowed - why would a document be missing from one of the oldest records in Heaven? Hardly anyone uses or reads them. They're mainly there as historical records now.

"Strange. . . Which record was it then?"

The court angel gulped, "U-Um. . , i-it-"

Michael glared slightly annoyed, "Just say it!"

"I-It was from Lucifer Morningstar's, s-sir!"

Michael's eyes widened, "Lucifer's?"

"Y-Yes, sir. We noticed some of the court records had been a little out of place the past couple of days, but thought nothing of it as everything was neatly put back. But this morning one of the court angel's found a feather between Lucifer's record, and when they opened it they saw one of the documents inside was missing."

Michael frowned, "Which document?"

". . . The Heavenly Ordinance, sir."

'The Heavenly Ordinance? Why. . . Why would anyone take that?'

"This was the feather that was found inside the court record."

The court angel presented Michael a singular feather. It was beautiful and the design looked very familiar -

Michael's breath hitched as he looked closely at the feather. He snatched the feather out of the court angel's hand looking at it even closer.

'No, no, no - it can't be!'

Without another word Michael flew out of the room leaving very confused and concerned court angels'.

'There's no way! She cannot possibly know!'

Lost in his own frantic thoughts, Michael failed to notice a certain archangel in his path, and proceeded to crash right into him.

"Woah, Michael! What's the rush?" Azrael asked wincing from the impact.

Michael looked at his brother, fear in his eyes, "Azrael. I-It's terrible. . . (Y-Y/N). . . S-She-"

"(Y/N)? Did something happen to her?" Azrael asked worried. He's never been his brother so distressed before.

"S-She. . . She knows."

Azrael furrowed his brows, "'Knows?' Knows, what?"

"About Lucifer. . . the truth about Lucifer and Lilith."

Michael proceeded to tell Azrael the events that happened taken place in the courts archives.

"That's strange," Azrael hummed. "Just as strange as the report I just got that some angelic armor and weapons are missing."

Azrael saw Michael's expression morph into one of absolute horror and waved his hands trying to dismiss his brother's thoughts, "But it could all just be a coincidence!".

Placing his hands onto Michael's shoulders, Azrael looked into his eyes, "Michael. You know (Y/N). As curious as she is, she's not reckless or stupid. She knows her place in Heaven and wouldn't dare ruin that. Have more faith - after all, you are the one who raised her."

Michael calmed his nerves as he listened to his brother's advice. He's right. (Y/N) was raised right and she would never do something that would jeopardize her place in Heaven. Someone else had to have misplaced the document, armor, and weapons.

. . . Still. . .

He couldn't shake off the ugly feeling in his gut.

Hours had passed and it was now late into the night.

To everyone around her (Y/N) was her normal graceful, polite, and dutiful self.

Almost like she hadn't been stressed out the entire month worrying for her cousin, who she recently discovered was actually her sister, and finding out her entire life has been a total lie.

She really played the part of the obedient seraphim quite well.

But right now, she was anything but.

Right now she was the sleep deprived heartbroken, scorned girl who no longer knew who she was or who she could trust here.

But, she was going to find out.

While the rest of the castle was asleep, (Y/N) changed from her night gown into light but durable angelic armor.

She wore her long blonde hair in a high ponytail and carried a long angelic spear on her back (along with a few angelic daggers and a whip on her hips).

Once ready, she quietly unlocked her balcony door trying to make as little noise as possible.

She could feel her nerves shake.

She's never been in a real fight before.

She knew what she was doing was dangerous; and if found out, could lead her into a world of trouble.

Looking back behind her she glanced over her room.

Her eyes landing on a picture frame found sitting on her vanity.

It had a photo of when she was little.

In it she was hugging Michael with her favorite duck plushie in her arms.

They both had such big smiles.

Sadness filled her heart as tears pricked her eyes.

Had it all been a lie?

Well. . . either way, she would find out later.

Charlie needed her right now.

She smiled sadly at the duck plushie laying in her bed silently wishing for luck.

Steeling her nerves, (Y/N) internally prepared herself for the battle ahead.

What she wasn't prepared for was to come face to face with Michael the moment she turned around.

Taglist:

@soobryu @kyo-kyo1 @miyako-night20 @charliecharlie65 @unknow-sama @myluckymoon @lbcreations-blog @moonchaos18 @sirenetheblogger @jagharamira @el-hajj @azharyy @glowymxxn @itsmonicabc @lxkeee @aria-tempest @glowinthedarkbones1150 @sashaphantomhive @0strawberrysorbet0 @serenity-loves-red @snowy-violet @aishallnotbefound

[spideyhexx]

all of my ideas tonight include stitching up wounds after fights. so now im just thinking about taking care of billy after a fight. and you’re speaking to him in such a soft, soothing voice. and you two keep making eye contact. and after you’re done stitching up a cut on his temple he just mumbles a small “thank you, darlin’” and OHHHHHHHH…….. THE ROMANTIC TENSION IM CRUMBLING

I LOVE IT (and you, hugs) I AM ALSO gonna write this for my saccharine series CAUSE I HAVE TO

for more, saccharine

fyi, you don’t need to read the other parts of this series to enjoy this🫶

fem!reader

Billy comes into the camp his gang had set up for the next few weeks, stumbling, his nose bloodied, his knuckles red, the cut on his temple making him wince.

His eyes are squinting, and he almost rubs his bloody hands into his eyes, but he stops himself. No one seems to be awake until his eyes lock with you.

Once all the men were asleep, you took the opportunity to bathe in your lonesome. It was nice and relaxing to finally scrub some of the grime from your skin and the sweat from the day. Your head felt heavy with sleep already. You were walking to your little tent when you locked eyes with Billy.

Your heart drops at the sight of him, and a burst of energy flows through you as you drop your dirty clothes and run over to him.

"Bonney, what did you do? What happened?! You're bleedin' still, what did you-"

"Sweetheart," he stops you from talking, his voice low, gravelly almost. You forgo the blush that rushes to your cheeks when he uses that name. He usually only did when he was mocking you or playing your game back at you, but now his eyes looked dazed, out of it. You nod your head a few times, almost like you can't stop it.

"Okay, okay, uh, c'mon," and you take his arm, dragging him more into the camp and sitting him down on the log near the burnt-out firewood.

He sits down with a grunt, his mouth parting to say something to you, but you're running off before he can even speak. Billy sighs at it, shaking his head, but all it does is make him wince in pain again.

You come back with some supplies, your canteen falling out of your arms to his feet, but luckily not spilling the water as you rush.

"Easy, sweetheart," he says, his voice is so soft, it's unnatural to you, but you can't even take the time to appreciate it. Billy is both annoyed and thankful you're up. Annoyed because of course it's you that is still awake. Thankful because he knows you care. And care enough.

Despite his words, it's hard for you to slow down. You clean his hands first, at least the knuckles, kneeling on the ground in front of him, your brow furrowing at the sight of them. "These are gonna bruise a lot," you mumble more to yourself than him, but he still replies.

"'M aware." You glance up at him, and Billy's eyes look blank, tired. Your own soften and as you clean the remainder of his hands, you try to be gentler, dipping your rag into the water and cleaning the blood.

He keeps still, but his fingers twitch when you get to one of his fingers. Once you finish cleaning it, on instinct, you lean down and kiss his knuckle, your lips more ghosting over his skin than a firmer kiss. Billy's breath hitches slightly, but he doesn't comment on it, almost too stunned that you actually kissed him. Kissed a part of him.

"There, those are all clean," you say, mustering up a smile as you grab a new rag and start cleaning the blood on his face. His eyes bore into you and it makes your heart stop.

"You have an eye contact problem," you murmur, your face inching closer to his, but only to clean his nose better. Only for that reason.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he says, his voice dripping in sarcasm and it quirks your lips up a little. You will yourself to look into his eyes, the same dazed look present in his.

"What happened?" You don't want to pester him about how he ended up like this, though your impulsivity tells you to. So you promise yourself that you'll only ask him this one time. Deep down, you felt as though you knew his answer would be vague, or he'd stay silent, so you prepared for it, to accept it and move on.

"Bar fight. This guy was pickin' on me. He started it," Billy replies after a moment, and he takes a deep breath. You feel his jaw clench slightly as your cleaning continues, but you still. He actually answered your question.

"Somethin' wrong?" He searches your eyes, your expressions are always pretty easy to read, but he doesn't have the full capacity to ponder right now.

"No," you tell him, taking a deep breath of your own before continuing. You're almost done, but you can't seem to take your eyes off of his. You've never had to tend to him like this before. You've thought about it, those times after hearing how he got a bloody nose or a nasty cut, but never did you think it would happen. Or that Billy would let you. Maybe he was softening up on you. Or maybe he doesn't care, he just needed help. You'll overthink it later before bed.

When you're done, you're about to stand when he grabs onto your wrist, turning his head slightly and you see the cut on his temple.

"Billy....shit," you say, moving to inspect the cut, holding his head in your hands and he feels his cheeks warm. He prays you don't notice.

You do. You rifle through your bag and sit with him, cleaning the cut the best you can before you attempt to stitch it. He winces, his hand jutting and grabbing your knee, making you both still.

"Sorry," he mumbles, retracting his hand and you shake your head.

"Squeeze it if you need to. 'M a strong girl." You get a slight, breathy chuckle out of him. It satisfies most of your nerves as his hand returns to your knee. You work again, stitching his cut and he sucks in a breath, "'s okay, you're doin' good, Billy."

His heart wants to twist and turn at the sound of your voice, so soft, so soothing. "Almost done, then you can go rest," you coo at him, his hand squeezing your knee tighter. He swallows hard, breathing through as you finish, giving him your smile.

He doesn't return it, but instead looks at you, piercing his gaze into your eyes without really meaning to. Your smile starts to drop a little at how intense his look is, your hands settling into your lap. Your mouth parts to speak, but you stop when he pats your knee.

"Thank you, darlin'," he breathes out, his gratitude different from the sarcasm he used earlier. His eyes almost looked teary in the moonlight but there was no way in hell you would mention it.

"Any time," you whisper, hesitantly putting your hand over his, patting the top of his hand. You've never felt this genuine with Billy and you longed for it to last. But you find yourself nervous, too anxious to move closer to him even though your body is aching for it. You swear that you see his eyes flit to your lips, but you determine it was your imagination. Your dreams getting in the way of reality.

Billy doesn't know how to handle himself either, but he knows that he likes his hand on your knee. That he likes your hand on his. Not that he'd say that.

When his head shifts in the slightest of movements, your senses kick back in and you take your hand away from his.

"You know, you're real dumb for gettin' in a fight while all alone? Or gettin' in a fight at all," you jab at him, resorting to your teasing to cover up the sensitivity of what occurred.

He rolls his eyes, but his stomach is fluttering from how quickly you jump to this side of yourself. "You're one to talk, sweetheart, didn't you fight that-"

"Don't turn this on me, Bonney, at least I walked away unscathed," you interrupt him and he turns more to face you.

"No, you didn't. You had that cut on your lip," he argues back, but a slight smile makes its way to his lips.

"No, I didn't." He was right, and you had forgotten in the moment that you did get hurt a little, but you didn't feel like giving in to him.

"Yes, you did, sweetheart. You were complainin' about it. For days," he counters, glancing down at his knuckles, before returning his gaze to you. To your lips. But only for a second.

The eye-roll and scoff you give him before you speak makes him smirk a little more, and he knows he won't be resting just yet.

[heavenisaplaceonearth-with-you]

hi

*insert incoherent screaming*

[there is some not-minor-appropriate content in this so please if you're under 18 i recommend don't.]

so yes i didn't chicken out this time!! i went to see him 😭😭😭

i'm telling you i was standing outside his door for like five minutes having a panic attack before i decided to knock it was so bad when he opened he was like in sweatpants and and a shirt that was kinda tight and he looked so yummy guysssssss -

i was so nervous all i could say was hi but thankfully he was immediately like "Anastasia, hi, I was meaning to talk to you actually, come inside, I made tea. The kids aren't here."

why did he feel the need to mention that last part 😭😭

but anyway we sat on his couch and had tea it was very good tea and i burned my tongue and got so shocked i nearly spilled the tea i just got a little on my face and neck and he laughed and passed me a tissue and i went to take it but he said "let me" and he very gently wiped the tea drops off of me and when he wiped the ones off my neck I SWEAR his hand kind of lingered there for a second. i laughed a little nervously because i'm just like that y'all 😭 and he laughed too and had this super adorable fond expression on his face.

i meant to talk about the serious stuff at this point but we ended up talking about uni 😭

then he was taking the tea back to the kitchen and was like "do you do it on purpose?"

and i was like, "what?"

then he went, "the skirts. i can't think straight, for the love of god."

so he goes into the kitchen and comes back in and is like "but i'm guessing you're not just here to drink my tea"

me: it's very good tea

K: thank you

[this next part is very heavily abridged i can't remember in detail but this is basically what went down]

me: well yeah i kinda of did want to talk about the other day.

K: mhm. *sits next to me* i do think we should talk. i don't want you to think i'm...

me: i don't. i really don't. i wasn't lying. and if you want...

K: i'm going to stop you right there you have your whole life ahead of you nastya -- i'm not going to ruin your life. it was stupid of me to say that. just pretend it didn't happen.

me: but i can't. i really do care about you.

K: don't make this harder than it needs to be --

me: stop with that. no. i'm not going to lose you, okay? stop thinking about what you think is right for one damn second and think about what you want

K: *laughs* i miss being your age.

me: in what sense?

K: impulsive.

me: be impulsive then.

K: *hesitates* i'd be careful what i wish for

me: life's too short to be careful don't you think?

he kinda inched closer to me on the couch and put his hand on my cheek

K: god what am i doing.

me: being impulsive.

he laughed and leaned forward and guys -- GUYS - GUYSSSSSSS he just gave me the softest most barely there kiss like i 😭😭😭😭 it was so heartbreakingly gentle. we kind made out for a bit i genuinely can't 😭😭 and this is so embarrassing but while we were making out i subconsciously moved my leg so my skirt rode up so he could see under it and let's just say he realized i was very much so turned on 😭 he gave this adorable little chuckle and i started blushing and he's like "it's okay, don't worry, i'll take care of it"

💀

gone guys i was GONE so randomly while we were kissing he kinda escalated things but idk if i should talk about that on here 😭😭

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything. 

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different. 

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades. 

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets. 

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero. 

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago. 

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media. 

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that. 

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be. 

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best. 

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly. 

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them. 

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long. 

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door. 

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was. 

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around. 

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’ 

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet. 

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it. 

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad? 

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked. 

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t  feel heavy. 

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment. 

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused. 

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on. 

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock. 

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing. 

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed. 

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.” 

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy! 

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over. 

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Bucktommy (any rating): Orchids

This was a lovely one to write, thank you 🩶

***

The day had finally arrived. After weeks of slowly packing up his things in between his shifts, Buck was finally moving in with Tommy.

There wasn’t really all that much to move in on the day - Buck had been taking a couple of boxes of stuff over to Tommys every time he stayed over, so all that was left was the the remainder of his kitchen equipment, toiletries and the washer and dryer which were far newer than Tommys who had agreed to donate his own machines to make room for Bucks.

In the two weeks of preparation Tommy himself had taken the opportunity to clear out some of his possessions and get rid of some junk. Mostly books he’d long since read and random tools and car parts.

Buck flopped down on the sofa next to Tommy with a grunt. Tommy wrapped his arm around his neck pulling Bucks temple to his lips for a kiss.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. Buck slid his hands around Tommy waist.

“Tired. But happy.” He hummed into Tommys chest. Tommy replied with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Not regretting moving in?” He teased.

Buck placed a hand on Tommys chest for leverage to push himself up to meet Tommys eyes. “Not in a million years.” He grinned.

“Good.” Tommy leaned in for a soft kiss to his lips. Buck settled back down onto Tommys chest. After a few moments he noticed a large black book on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” He asked through a yawn.

“Oh, I wanted to show you.” Tommy said excitedly leaning forward to grab it. “I found it when I was clearing out stuff for your impending arrival.” He placed it on his lap and Buck sat up a little so look. “It’s a photo album that belonged to my grandmother.”

He opened it up and slowly flipped the pages. She really was quite beautiful when she was younger and Buck could see the family resemblance in the eyes and the signature smile lines.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Uh, 20.”

“Tell me about her.” Buck said resting his head on Tommy shoulder.

“She was so much fun. Eccentric at times. A little impulsive. You remind me of her sometimes, ya know.”

“Yeah?” The thought made Buck feel warm inside.

“Yeah. God, she would have loved you. She loved shenanigans and she definitely wouldn’t have had a hard time roping you in on them.” He laughed fondly. “She was always smiling and happy. I can’t ever remember being mad at anyone or any thing.” He flipped the page to a slightly browning and dog eared photograph of her standing next to a table, on top of which was a tall orchid with a “1st prize” rosette stuck to it.

“That was her favourite hobby - growing orchids. She won so many competitions at flower shows. She probably spent more money than she won as prizes but she loved it so much.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Buck said softly.

“Me too.”

**

A week later and Buck was entirely unpacked in his new home. He came off a 48 hour shift a few hours before Tommys 24 ended. He’d tried to stay awake for him coming home but minutes after he’d sat on their sofa his slid down and fell asleep.

Tommy arrived home and kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. “Hey baby.” He called out. “Baby?” He repeated when he got no response. He walked along the hall and peered into the living room and his heart melted at the sight.

Buck, his hands tucked in underneath his chin as he lay soundly asleep sprawled along the sofa. Tommy quietly walked in the room and slowly pulled the crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa and gently draped it over him. He placed a delicate kiss onto his head and left the room for the kitchen.

As he entered the room he stopped dead in his tracks. On the centre of the kitchen island was a white ceramic plant pot with a beautiful bright blue orchid planted inside. He felt a rush of warmth fill every crevice in his body at the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend.

There was a time in his life not too far in the past when he didn’t think he’d ever find someone special, let alone someone as thoughtful and attentive as Evan. He smiled as a tear escaped his eye and snaked its way down his cheek.

He walked over and tentatively ran his finger along one of the petals.

“Do you like it?” A groggy voice came from behind him. He turned his head to see Buck, eyes slightly scrunched with sleep and hair disheveled. He fell in love with him just a little bit more right there.

He walked straight over to him, one hand grabbed around Bucks waist and the other the back of his neck and pulled him in for a firm kiss. Buck hummed in response and Tommys heart flipped in his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered releasing the kiss and resting their foreheads together.

Buck smiled happily “I love you, too.” He said. “And I hope your grandma taught you some shit because I have no idea how to keep this bad boy alive.” Tommy’s head leant back as he let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can figure it out.”

[cheolism]

mwah

✧ woozi x reader

✧ summary: three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

✧ wc. is approx 2.9k

✧ genre: romance, fluff, mentioned friends-to-lovers

✧ notes: sex is mentioned, but not actually in the fic. soonyoung is a serial gossiper. this is just light-hearted and something i thought would be cute. reader has a milkshake, so sorry to all my fellow lactose intolerant baddies

o n e  w e e k 

It was the end of your first date, meaning it was the first time the two of you had hung out after confessing your feelings for one another. In reality it wasn’t much different than what the two of you had been doing before. 

You came, dropped your backpack off at his bedroom door and shredded your coat. Dragged the computer chair Jihoon had purchased for you (he said he had found it on the side of the road, but he wasn’t so cold as to make his new partner sit on a chair someone had thrown out), pulled your laptop out of your backpack and got to work on your essay. 

When supper time came around, he had ordered the food. You had cracked a joke about it being a first date, and so the two of you came to the agreement that it was. 

You had been painfully cute all evening. Leaning against his shoulder, nudging his elbow and then flashing him a little grin when his eyes met yours. Sweetly calling out his name and then blowing a little kiss to him. Jihoon didn’t know how his heart could flutter so much, but he was sure it was some sort of medical problem. 

Part of Jihoon wanted to ask you to say. Part of him wanted to grab you and wrap you in his arms, pull you into his bed and pull up the blankets and sleep. Another part of him wanted to press you against the wall and kiss you. 

He acted on neither impulses. 

Instead Jihoon gave you a little smile, standing and escorting you downstairs and to the front door. Seungkwan and Seungcheol stood in the living room, and they called out greetings as you passed. 

“Ignore them,” Jihoon murmured, his hand going to the center of your back. He guided you to the door, nudged your shoes towards you. He thought, for a fleeting moment, about getting down on a knee and tying your shoes for you, but then he remembered his friends in the living room behind him and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I had fun,” you said, shooting him a little grin as you tied your shoes. 

He scoffed, though Jihoon couldn’t fight the tiny smile that had begun to stretch his lips. He couldn’t help it. Whenever you smiled, he wanted to smile; whenever you cried, his heart cried with you. It was horrible, and he surely had some sort of medical problem. 

“I’m sure you did have fun,” he said wryly, “sitting next to me doing homework all evening.”

You giggled, standing. You hooked your hands through your backpack straps. “Well. It was doing it with you that made it fun, Jihoon.”

Seungkwan cooed in the background. Jihoon fought the urge to turn around and punch him. 

You sighed, backing up and towards the door. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow?”

Jihoon followed, reaching around you for the door knob. “Yep. I’ve got to meet with Jun about lessons, and then I’ll be free.”

“Great,” you said, and Jihoon felt foolish, but he felt like you meant it. As if you actually were eager to see him tomorrow, despite having seen him today, despite seeing him currently. As if he was someone worth getting excited over.

He turned the doorknob, pushed the door open. You stepped over the threshold, still facing him. “You okay?”

You nodded, glancing away. Then your shoulders straightened, as if you were steeling yourself, and you darted forward. Your lips pressed against his cheek, as quick as a thief. “Mwah.”

Then you were peeling away and out the door, calling out to Seungkwan and Seungcheol and waving good-bye.

t w o  m o n t h s 

“So,” Soonyoung began, leaning against the counter and giving Jihoon a wide grin. He looked ridiculous, and Jihoon had told him as much. With his wide-brimmed hat on backwards, his bowling shoes, he looked like a clown who came straight from a NASCAR race. 

“How is everything going? Your two month anniversary was yesterday, right?”

Jihoon furrowed his brow. “How do you --”

“Y/n has a little counter on their phone,” Soonyoung explained, as if that resolved any questions Jihoon had. “So? How is it? Trouble in paradise?”

Jihoon shrugged. The worker from behind the counter walked up, carrying a bottled soda for Jihoon and a strawberry shake for you. Jihoon accepted them both, ignoring how the cold of each drink bit at his hands. “We’ve been friends for years,” Jihoon said as they began their walk back to the rest of their group. “It’s not really any different.”

Soonyoung hummed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I mean. That’s good, I guess. But what about the parts that are different?”

Jihoon squinted, slowing his pace so he was slightly behind Soonyoung and forcing the other man to stop. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The blonde man sighed, rolling his eyes. He retraced his steps, walking back to Jihoon’s side. Soonyoung placed both of his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders, leaning down and talking as if Jihoon were a child and not a grown-ass man capable of kicking Soonyoung’s ass. “Well. When two adults like each other romantically, sometimes that can lead to special activities in the bedroom.”

For half a second, Jihoon was confused. Special activities?

Then Soonyoung’s words were fully processed. Jihoon’s jaw dropped, and he reached out with one of his legs and kicked at Soonyoung, not willing to drop the drinks in order to fully throttle his friend. 

Soonyoung just laughed, jumping out of the way. Him laughing was probably the worst of it, like waving a flag in front of a bull. 

Jihoon couldn’t help the frown and pout that appeared on his face as he returned to the group. He knew Soonyoung was just teasing, but Jihoon couldn’t help but feel affronted. Like: sex wasn’t a big deal, of course it wasn’t, but it wasn’t like Jihoon was just going to turn around and broadcast your relationship for everyone to hear about. 

Because everyone would hear about it. Soonyoung could keep a secret as long as he could tell one other person, and when that meant telling Jihoon or you, everything was fine. But he knew, more often than not, Soonyoung would go running to Seokmin or Jeonghan with whatever Jihoon would say, relying on the other two men to give reactions Soonyoung deemed fit to warrant him spilling. 

Besides: it wasn’t anyone’s business!

You were bowling when Jihoon returned, your back towards him. He stomped to your seats, placing your shake on the table in front of the couch. Chan turned towards Jihoon, face bright and eyes crinkled, but took one look at him and turned back towards the front and away from Jihoon. 

Jihoon grabbed the soda, unfastening the lid and taking a drink. He ignored how the carbon stung at his throat. 

“Jihoonie!” He glanced up. You were eagerly moving towards him, a large grin on your face. That look of happiness at seeing him never seemed to fade, no matter how many days and weeks into your relationship the two of you got. 

He felt himself flush red, embarrassed. You plopped down next to him, pressing your sides together and squeezing his arm. “I hope you didn’t see my gutter ball.”

“I didn’t,” he said, honest. “I’m sure it wasn’t so bad as to change my opinion on you.”

You laughed, bright and sweet. “I dunno, Jihoon. It was kinda bad.”

Then you were glancing at the table. Your eyes widened when you saw the shake, obviously delighted. “Whose shake is that?”

Jihoon hummed, raising the bottle to his lips again. “For my partner. Dunno if you’ve seen them around.”

You threw him an affronted look, but your fake ire did nothing to hide the grin that was beginning to spread across your face. “Well. I’ll just hold onto this for them, if that’s okay with you. But you have to hold onto something for my partner in exchange. All right?”

Jihoon shrugged, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. Then you were pressing closer, one hand settling on his shoulder, the other going to hold his chin and hold his face still. You pressed your lips against his cheek, lingering. 

You said it softly, not loud enough for Chan, who was on the other side of you, to hear, and definitely not loud enough for anyone else in the group to hear. But Jihoon still heard it. “Mwah.”

e i g h t   m o n t h s 

“You sure you just can’t stay the night?” 

The crackling of thunder was nearly loud enough to drown out Jihoon’s question, and the rain that pounded against the windows was an accent to illustrate his point. 

The storm had been predicted to appear later in the night, closer to midnight. But then autumn winds picked up, pushing the storm to the city quicker than anticipated. So when the two of you had taken a break from playing video games (Jihoon was remarkably bad and more prone to losing than winning, but so was Chan and Soonyoung, which made playing with both boys an absolute must when playing with Jihoon), the game paused and silence reigning over Jihoon’s room, the harsh winds batting against the side of the house had been a surprise. 

You had scrambled, shoving your shoes on and grabbing your backpack. You had an important seminar you had to attend early in the morning, and while you had clothes stored in Jihoon’s room, sweats and a ratty tee wouldn’t cut it. 

“I can’t,” you said, lingering by the door. You were frowning, upset; not at the storm, but at the prospect of your time with Jihoon getting cut short. 

Ridiculous. 

You were ridiculous. 

Jihoon sighed, reaching for you. You went into his arms easily, your lips finding his the most natural thing in the world. He pressed quick kisses to your mouth, hands squeezing at your upper arms. 

“Take it slow going home.” Jihoon commanded. “Lights all the way on. Don’t be afraid to pull over or turn around if you can’t make it. If you need, call me and --”

“-- and you’ll send Seungcheol my way,” you finished, grinning. 

Jihoon glared at you. He didn’t like this. Not for the same reasons as you -- well, not to say that he wasn’t mad at getting your time together cut short, because he was a little irritated about it. But he hated the thought of you leaving to drive through a storm, all for a seminar you work was forcing you to attend. 

One day you wouldn’t have to work, Jihoon vowed, the sound of high winds thrashing tree branches and rain throwing itself against windows as his witness. He would be a high-end producer, and you wouldn’t have to work. Unless you wanted too, of course. Wouldn’t have to work, wouldn’t have to travel to attend stupid seminars, wouldn’t have to deal with annoying coworkers who most definitely shouldn’t be working. 

But that day was not today. 

So he pressed another kiss to your lips, murmuring quietly, “please be careful.”

You nodded, pulling away. You reached out, running your hand through his hair and looking at him. For a moment neither of you said anything, just content to take in the other. 

Then you pitched forward, pressing the final kiss of the night to his lips. “Mwah.”

e l e v e n  m o n t h s 

You were sprawled out on Jihoon’s carpet, belly up, hands laced over your stomach. The first thing you had done after getting off of work was text him that you had, quite frankly, had enough of people talking and were about to punch the next person who so much as looked at you. 

The first thing Jihoon had done when you stepped through his bedroom door was get up, cross the room, and wrap his arms around you. You had pressed your face into his neck, hands clinging to the back of his shirt. 

He doesn’t know for sure how long the two of you had stood like that. But when he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to the space between your brows. “You still want some quiet?”

When you nodded, he pressed another kiss to your nose. He returned to his desk, slid his headphones over his ears, and went back to work. 

Which led to you, on his carpet, an hour later. 

“Jihoon,” you called. He paused the track he was working on and turned, pulling his headphones off. You weren’t looking at him, eyes trained on the popcorn ceiling that both of you absolutely detested. 

“Yeah?”

For a moment you were quiet. You sighed, turning your head to look at him. “Sorry for being like this.”

Jihoon shook his head, as if it wasn’t a big deal. And as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big deal. Everyone had bad days, and you were witness to all of his. And he had a lot of them. The least he could do was be there for your bad days. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Well. Wait. It does. But not like. You’re okay to have bad days and you’re okay to bring your troubles to me, but it doesn’t matter that you do that because -- well.” “Because you love me,” you cooed, a small smile finally appearing on your face. 

There you are. 

Jihoon couldn’t help his own little smile. “Yeah,” he said, “because I love you.”

You turned on your side, facing him fully. “You know, our one year is 29 days away.”

“It is.” 

“So,” you began, chewing on your bottom lip in a rather poor attempt to hide your smile. “Any plans?”

Jihoon shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You echoed. “That sounds awfully close to a no.”

“That’s not what I said,” he argued. 

It was fruitless, however. You sat up, crossing your legs. “It’s okay to not have any plans, Jihoon. You don’t have to surprise me. I could surprise you.”

Jihoon frowned. “I told you I had it under control.” “I know! It’s just that --”

“What,” he stood from his chair, stretching. He ignored how your eyes lingered on his stomach when his shirt rode up. Jihoon had thought Mingyu was horny, but fuck, he was nothing compared to you. “Don’t think I can be romantic?”

You hesitated. “Well. You can --”

His jaw dropped, popping from his habit of clenching it. “You don’t think I can be romantic?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You thought it!” He accused, moving towards you. You weren’t taking him seriously. You were grinning, eyes sparkling and obviously amused. Even before the two of you had begun dating he was the subject of your impish nature, and that hadn’t let up in the slightest since the two of you had begun dating. 

“Okay, so maybe I thought it.” You held up your hands. “But like. Can you blame me?”

Jihoon lowered himself onto the floor, joining you. Your knees were pressing against his. You were practically glowing, so delighted at him joining you not only on the floor but in verbally sparring. “I can. I’m the most romantic person I know.”

You giggled, and Jihoon would never ever let Soonyoung know how his heart always seemed to skip a few beats at your laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

Then Jihoon lurched forward, hands cradling your face, lips smashing against yours. Your teeth clanked against his, and you were laughing into his mouth, and he couldn’t properly kiss you because of how wide your smile was. 

Your hands went to his face, framing his cheeks, and the two of you fell into a rhythm. Kissing you was as easy as walking, Jihoon found, but it never failed to make his heart stutter. Your mouths moved together, sliding comfortably and leisurely, and Jihoon thought that every single romantic novel that ever said rushed kisses of passion were the fruit of all love were wrong. 

He pulled away, just enough to talk. His mouth moved against yours with every word, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes constantly fluttered. “I can be romantic.”

Then he pressed one more kiss to your lips, quick and feather-light. “Mwah.”

A moment of silence. 

Then your eyes were flying open, surprise and euphoria taking over your features. Your cry of his name was loud, and his head hurt from where it smacked against the ground after you tackled him, his pride felt a little bruised at resorting to such a tactic, but the utter glee on your face was worth it. 

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: One Foot Out the Door (Won't You Come Back Inside?) 1/2

Eh, I got a little stalled on Come Away, O Human Child and felt like writing some different flavored angst :) (Happy Ending guaranteed though!) Besides, all the cheating 'fics in the Buck/Tommy tag on AO3 made me sad this week (no hate, I just don't like infidelity stories) so I thought I'd give Tommy some angst that didn't involve him getting cheated on.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy (mentioned Buddie, but it's one-sided in this)

Being perfectly honest, Tommy had always kind of known that Eddie might eventually come between him and Evan.

The concept hadn't even really bothered him at first. Kissing Evan had been an impulse decision…he was unfairly hot and kind of adorable when he was flustered, and he said he wanted Tommy's attention. What was he supposed to do? Not take the opportunity to see if any of the (admittedly, kind of mixed) signals the kid had been throwing off would lead anywhere?

Even after their (disastrous) first date, and the (awkward) encounters at Howie and Evan's sister's wedding, he really and truly hadn't thought things with him would go anywhere serious. He liked Evan, sure. He walked that line between pretty boy and muscle man that got Tommy's motor running, they had great conversations, and (and Tommy knew this was selfish, but he'd never claimed to be completely altruistic) being with Evan brought him plenty of chances to reconnect with the 118 in ways that his text-every-once-in-while friendship with Hen and Howie just hadn't provided. Sue him—he liked Harbor just fine, but that was a job not a family and he was kind of bummed that the 118 had only become what it was now after he left.

He'd honestly thought his relationship with Evan was just going to be a fling. He'd have a nice time with a gorgeous man and maybe get the chance to resolidify his ties to the 118, and in exchange he'd give Evan the kind, gentle introduction to life as a queer man that Tommy had never really gotten. They'd have a good time for a few weeks or months and then probably part ways…hopefully amicably so Tommy could keep his friendship with Eddie and his place with the 118. In the best case scenario, he and Evan could still be friends too.

That had been the plan. That had been the logical conclusion just based on his observations of Evan and his own experience and relationships. He saw where this was going, and he was okay with that. Really, he was. Tommy had learned a long time ago that Happily Ever After was only easy to find in the movies, and even when it did show up in the real world, it wasn't people like Tommy that found it. Didn't even have anything to do with being gay. Life had taught Tommy Kinard to temper his expectations long before he'd ever realized that part of himself. So. He'd scouted the terrain, decided it was worth his time, and settled in for the perfectly predictable ride.

And then Evan had fucked it all up by making it completely, utterly impossible not to fall completely, utterly in love with him.

Evan…Evan was fucking sunshine.

Tommy had known he enjoyed talking to him…he'd been unprepared for how much he'd come to love the way Evan's brain worked. The random facts and research binges, the constant shifts in focus. Evan was so curious about anything and everything, and Tommy had grown used to the cadence of his boyfriend's voice washing over him like the waves of the ocean whenever they were together, the way Evan filled the silence of his house whenever he was there, but always let Tommy talk too, always listening attentively and engaging, even in topics that didn't really interest him.

He'd expected Evan to be a good lay. He just had that vibe about him and…look, people gossip okay? Evan's…exploits right after he joined the 118 weren't exactly discreet. He had not been expecting to discover a lover. Evan was generous in bed, adventurous and creative in ways that left Tommy a little breathless. He'd expected to have to take the lead, but apart from some understandable hesitance at the start, Evan had never been shy about…well, anything they did. He could be coy and sweet, happy to be manhandled and bossed around, to look up at Tommy through his lashes and call him Daddy in a voice that went straight to Tommy's core. But he was equally thrilled to turn the tables, be loud and demanding, pin Tommy down to the nearest surface and go to town…whatever suited their mood. God, Tommy had never had someone match him like this. Never had someone who felt like they were made to be in his arms. Never found someone who could slot so seamlessly into his life.

They had their hiccups, of course. They were both stubborn men who weren’t always great at communication. They had to learn each other's tells and signals. Evan got into his head about things, could be clingy and needful in ways that were a little foreign to Tommy at first. Tommy tended to bottle things up until they festered, could become snappish and aloof in ways that had clashed badly with Evan's abandonment issues a few times. They worked through it, though. They learned together, improved together. Tommy didn't think he was exaggerating when he said this was the healthiest relationship he'd ever had. He couldn't help the warm glow of pride the day Hen had confided in him that she thought it was Evan's healthiest relationship as well.

He loved Evan. He hadn't expected to, but looking at where they were now, it seemed inevitable.

But. He had always kind of expected Eddie to eventually come between them.

Tommy wasn't an idiot. He wasn't unobservant. It took him approximately zero point five seconds past meeting them to clock the weirdly intense energy between Evan and Eddie. Tommy was no stranger to the kind of bonds their line of work tended to inspire. He was ex-military and a first responder…he knew you didn't rush into life-threatening situations with someone and have a normal friendship with them. Whatever was between Evan and Eddie wasn't that.

They were entrenched in each other's lives. Damn near inseparable. Tommy had seen plenty of guys become unofficial family, plenty of guys who stepped in as uncles and godfathers for their squadmates’ kids. But Evan was effectively Eddie's co-parent. Christopher's other father. Eddie clearly relied on Evan for emotional needs that a partner (a life partner, not just a work partner) should fulfill, and Evan did the same.

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little off-putting for someone who wanted to date one of them. But he liked Eddie a lot, and Evan was so damn gorgeous…and he really wasn't expecting it to get serious. Their connection read to him as intimate, but not sexual–even if he privately thought that was mostly because Evan could be charmingly oblivious and Eddie was deep in the kind of denial that only intense therapy and self-reflection could break through–and so he decided to risk it.

In a way, he thought that he had it easier as Evan's partner than anyone who tried to date Eddie would ever have it. He understood Eddie and Christopher’s place in Evan's life, cared about them both, and was perfectly content being a “trusted adult” rather than any kind of parental figure in Christopher's life. And it wasn't like Evan was Chris's primary parent. Evan just had more room for a partner in his life and his heart than Eddie did.

To be completely fair to Evan, Tommy didn't think he was a replacement or a substitution. He knew Evan loved him. Just…he had never been able to shake the feeling that he wouldn't have been his boyfriend's first choice. And if Eddie ever figured himself out, ever got to a place where he was comfortable offering Evan a choice, Evan would take it.

It wasn't something he dwelled on. Not something he spent all his time waiting for. But it hovered on the peripheral of his growing feelings for Evan, snuck in haunt him at odd times, a darkness that never overshadowed their love, but never dissipated either. He thought he had it handled. He really did.

*

“So,” Karen drawled, flopping down in the lounge chair beside him with a glass of wine and a slice of the (very excellent) cherry pie Buck had made for the gathering. Tommy was considering going to get another slice himself…he loved Evan's dedication to his fitness routines, certainly had no complaints about the results, but he did enjoy it when his boyfriend took breaks from his more restrictive nutrition regimes.

“So?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow, well used to the roadmap Mrs. Wilson (both of them) tended to follow with serious conversations. And judging by the tilt of Karen's mouth, this was going to be a serious conversation.

“How are things? Haven't seen you in a while,” Karen replied, taking a sip of her wine.

It was true. Tommy hadn't been able to attend the last few get-togethers at Bobby and Athena's new place for work-related reasons (wildfire season was the worst no matter how you sliced it, but it was especially shitty for air support), and his and Evan's schedules had been lining up infrequently enough the last few weeks that when they did have time off together, they mostly spent it in bed rather than socializing.

“Going great,” he said, settling more comfortably in his chair to watch Evan swing Jee-Yun up onto his shoulders and start galloping around the yard while she shrieked in delight. He didn't even try to hide the dopey smile he knew was spreading across his face. It wasn't like their friends weren't aware of how smitten he was with his boyfriend.

“Did you and Buck have a good time up in San Diego? I had to work late the night Buck came over for dinner. Missed the pictures.”

The smile widened, a warm flush flooding his chest at the thought of the trip he and Evan had taken just last month. An anniversary trip. Their one year anniversary (okay, more like fifteen month, because wrangling PTO from two separate stations was a bitch), a milestone Tommy had only made it to a handful of times, and never since coming out. It wasn't anything extravagant or fancy. They hadn't even flown, preferring to drive up the coast and stay for the weekend in a charming bed and breakfast Evan had found online. They'd gone sightseeing, eaten entirely too much “viral” food Evan found on TikTok (a surprising amount of which had actually been worth the hype), and filled their nights with the kind of unhurried, earth-shatteringly intimate lovemaking Tommy thought existed only in romance novels.

“We had an amazing time,” he gushed. As if drawn by a magnet, his eyes found Evan again, watching his boyfriend fondly as he tossed his niece in the air a few times before spinning her around and dramatically pretending to ‘drop’ her, only to catch her and resume tossing her high.

Karen nodded to herself, smiling gently. “Gotta say, you really messed up a few betting pools. Romantic getaway, one year anniversary…we were pretty sure you’d come back with some kind of announcement,” she said, wagging her eyebrows significantly.

He froze a bare second, but his wits rarely let him down. He smirked at her, and rubbed his belly. “Sorry, nobody's pregnant. I've just packed on a few pounds. Evan's a damn good cook, you know? Although I did notice Athena's not drinking tonight…”

Karen leveled him with a look. “I dare you to go say that in earshot of her,” she said dryly.

“Oh God, do I really look that stupid to you?”

“Kinard.”

“What?” He held his pretended ignorance for a few more seconds before cracking.

“Not to be all stereotypical on main, but showing up to the second date with an engagement ring and a UHaul is more your tribe's deal, Mrs. Wilson. It's only been a year.”

“Hey!” She balanced her plate of pie on her lap and reached over to smack him lightly on the bicep. “And no, it's not like we expected you two to come back engaged–”

“What'd Howie have the odds at?”

Karen waved a dismissive hand. “Seventy-five to one, but that's beside the point. You two have been solid. I've never seen Buck this happy, and you seem pretty content yourself. But you're not even talking about taking next steps? Moving in together? Getting a dog? Something?”

For the second time that evening, Tommy froze. He knew he was staring at Karen like a deer in headlights, knew he was giving away far too much in his expression. His brain ticked over a few times, like an old engine trying to cough to life on a cold day. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He and Karen were friends, he liked her a lot…but they weren't this kind of friends. They weren't confidants like this. Unless…

“Did Evan say something?” he sputtered finally.

Karen took a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him with sharp, assessing eyes. Fuck, he'd prefer getting grilled like this by Hen. She was scarier, and fiercely protective of Evan, but also a little less surgically insightful in her observations.

“Hen brought it up last week,” she admitted after a moment, with a slight wince. “She was teasing him, since she knows his lease is up in a couple months. Buck…spiraled a little.”

And damn it. Damn it. He'd known about the lease, of course. Evan had mentioned it in passing a couple of times. But not in a way that had any weight of expectation…not in a way that made Tommy think he was hinting at anything. Fuck.

Karen narrowed her eyes at him, brow furrowing a little. “I mean--it’s not a big deal. Stereotypes aside, a year really isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. Buck's not expecting you to ask to move in together. I think it was more that you two haven't talked about the future at all. Which, again, everyone has their own timeline, but just in case you were waiting on him to bring it up, it's gonna have to be you. Buck's too gun-shy.”

Tommy couldn't help grimacing at the words. Yeah. That tracked. He knew all about Evan's previous girlfriends, and the couple times he'd ended up cohabitating. Of course Evan would be wary of even broaching the subject. Goddamn it.

“Hey,” Karen said suddenly, her voice going a bit quieter. “Tommy, I was just curious. Maybe a little worried. You two have seemed really happy….”

Tommy shook his head, sighing. “We are. Yeah, no, we are. I should've figured he was…I just should've noticed.”

Karen seemed to be realizing she had stumbled onto a larger issue than she initially thought. The wineglass joined the pie plate on the grass and she scooted her chair a little closer to his, turning her whole body towards him. “Okay, I feel like I'm missing some context here. What's going on?”

Such an easy question. One he even knew the answer to.

He wanted to take the next step with Evan, was the thing. Fuck, if he was honest with himself, he'd been wanting to take the next steps for a while now. Moving in together. Joining finances. Getting a goddamn dog.

Little pieces of Evan had been finding their way into his place for months, now. His toothbrush and preferred shower products in the bathroom. His spare clothes in the bottom drawer of Tommy’s dresser. His weird-ass organic oat milk and protein powder in the kitchen. Small little pieces and Tommy wanted more. Wanted it all. They'd been together for almost a year and a half. Karen was right, if Tommy saw a future with Evan it was well past time to start the discussion. The way they'd been going, their anniversary trip would have been the perfect time to bring it up, to ask Evan to just give up the loft and come stay, come be with Tommy all the time.

He could see a future with Evan. He could see everything with Evan. Rings. Vacations. Pets. Fuck, Evan had him thinking about kids and he'd never thought that was something he wanted. He could see it, though. He could see them growing old and gray together. So what was the hold up?

A loud burst of laughter startled him, and he looked over to find Eddie had stolen Jee from Evan and was spinning around and around while she shrieked for him to go faster. Evan was perched on the arm of Christopher’s lounge chair, watching the scene with a soft smile as he draped his arm around the boy's shoulders.

Yeah. That was the hold up.

Something must have shown on his face, because Karen followed his line of sight. He averted his eyes when she looked back at him.

“Tommy,” she started, but he just shook his head.

It wasn't like he hadn't known going in that Evan's place in Eddie's and Christopher's lives (and theirs in his) was…a lot. Probably more than a lot of people would be willing to put up with. He cared about the Diaz boys too, though, and again…he hadn't been expecting to love Evan so damn much. And really? It had been fine. A little awkward at first, but he liked to think that they'd all learned to walk a line that let all of them get what they needed out of the relationships. It had been fine.

Then Eddie started getting more serious about therapy. Not that he hadn't been before. After the…situation…that had resulted in Chris going to spend the summer with Eddie's parents, he'd started seeing one of the department counselors again. But eventually he'd moved on to more intensive therapy–sought out more specialized treatment. Tommy had actually been the one to put him in touch with a veterans’ group some of his friends from the service attended, and through them, Eddie had found a therapist he really clicked with. Someone who worked with combat veterans exclusively, saw PTSD every day.

It had been great. Even knowing him for a relatively short time, Tommy could see how much stronger he was. How much more settled and sure of himself.

How much he was realizing about himself.

Tommy wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to bring it up until Eddie did, knew intimately how difficult it was for you to admit something like that to yourself and live honestly…especially for guys like them, however unfair that was. He'd supported his friend, he and Evan both had, but privately he thought it was kind of a tossup if Eddie would ever let himself finish that journey.

It was fine. It was all fine.

Eddie was getting braver, though. Tommy could see it. Could see him settling further and further into his own skin, getting closer and closer to being able to be who he was meant to be. It was wonderful, and awful at the same time. Wonderful because Eddie was his friend who he cared about, and no one deserved to have to live a lie. That kind of denial festered inside you. It poisoned you from the inside out. Eddie was a good man. A good friend. Tommy was glad it looked like he'd be able to lance that wound and drain the poison.

It was awful because Tommy wasn't an idiot. And he could see the way Eddie looked at Evan.

He'd always kind of thought Eddie might come between them eventually.

“Look, I love Evan. I really do. I want a life with him. But–” he gestured towards the charming tableau: Evan with his arm around what was for all intents and purposes his and Eddie's kid, while Eddie played with Evan's niece. He shrugged at Karen, twisting in his seat a little so he wasn't facing his boyfriend and the man who was also in love with his boyfriend, and who had a connection to his boyfriend that Tommy deep down didn't think he could compete with. “Writing on the wall's a little obvious, isn't it? Sue me, I'm kind of hoping to at least keep my dignity when he…” He broke off, gritting his teeth so hard he felt the muscle in his jaw jump. “When he moves on,” he finished, as steadily as he could. Fuck. He'd never said it out loud before. It fucking hurt.

“What?”

He hadn't heard Evan approaching them. Neither had Karen, judging by the way her eyes widened. Slowly, agonizingly, Tommy turned in his seat to find his boyfriend staring at him with the most hurt, betrayed expression he'd ever seen on Evan's face.

He'd always kind of thought Eddie might eventually come between them.

But not like this.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Life Well Loved

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

Word Count: 12.9k words -- I KNOW! (In Monica Geller's voice)

A/N: Am I having a Dieter brain rot? Why yes, yes, I am. I know I should be writing the next chapter of Lifeline, but here we are. This story contains themes of pregnancy and navigating unexpected life changes, with emotionally intense scenes that touch on topics like potential pregnancy termination, personal doubts, and fears. Though it's mostly fluff, the narrative leans toward a hopeful and supportive direction but explores the complexities of relationships and personal growth. Because hey, it's Dieter!

Warnings: Allusion to abortion, brief mentions of substance use (past), discussions of anxiety and self-doubt, public scrutiny/social media negativity, mentions of past parental loss, minor family tensions, and emotional conversations around pregnancy. Please read with care if these subjects are sensitive for you.

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Dieter Bravo never thought he’d end up married, let alone to his best friend. It wasn’t the kind of love story he had planned for himself, but then again, Dieter’s plans were usually an afterthought to his impulsive nature. He met her—his wife, the love of his life—years ago at a book signing. He’d been dragged there by a friend who swore her mystery novels were like something straight out of an Agatha Christie thriller, but with a modern, edgier twist.

“Come on, man. Just try something new,” his friend had nudged, practically shoving Dieter into the crowded bookstore. “She’s hot and her books are actually good. Not that you’d know.”

Dieter rolled his eyes but followed, pretending not to care. He didn’t read much beyond scripts, but when he saw her—standing there all wide-eyed and charming behind the signing table, chatting easily with fans—he was hooked. She had this warmth about her, a smile that reached her eyes, and a way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room.

When it was his turn in line, Dieter cleared his throat, a little unsure of what to say. “So, uh, is it true you based your killer on your ex?” he asked, flashing her his signature smirk.

She looked up, amused. “Only the charming parts. The murderous tendencies are purely fictional.”

Dieter chuckled, genuinely entertained. “Good to know. I’ll keep my charming side in check.”

She laughed, and Dieter swore he could listen to that sound all day. But the moment passed quickly, and they parted ways, the brief exchange lingering in Dieter’s mind longer than he’d like to admit.

They didn’t reconnect until months later when Dieter landed the role of a lifetime in the film adaptation of one of her books. He played the brooding lead, a role he was born to play, and she was on set every day, consulting on the story she knew better than anyone.

“Bravo!” she called out one afternoon, waving the script in the air as he finished a scene. “I think you missed a line, but you definitely nailed the smirk.”

“Missed the line? Nah, I made it better,” Dieter shot back, strutting over with that effortless confidence of his. “Besides, isn’t the lead supposed to be mysterious and broody? I’m just adding layers.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Layers of bullshit, maybe.”

Their banter was easy, and soon, late nights spent in hotel bars became their thing. They’d laugh over terrible room service and even worse dialogue changes, often rewriting entire scenes together between drinks.

“Do you think the audience is gonna buy this twist?” Dieter asked one night, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on a napkin. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“It’s a mystery, Bravo. It’s supposed to be dramatic,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Besides, you’re the one bringing it to life. If anyone can sell it, it’s you.”

Over the years, their friendship grew deeper. Dieter adored her—not just for her talent, but for the way she saw right through him. She didn’t care about the Hollywood persona; she cared about the guy who struggled with his lines, laughed too loudly, and occasionally got lost in his own head. And it was clear to anyone who knew him that she was the only one who truly got him.

“Why do you even stick around?” Dieter asked one night, half-drunk and more vulnerable than he intended. They were sitting on the balcony of some hotel in Vancouver, the city lights flickering below them, empty glasses scattered between them.

She looked over at him, surprised at the question but not at the insecurity behind it. “You’re kidding, right? Who else is gonna put up with my obsessive rewriting of everything?”

Dieter smirked, but the self-deprecation was still there, hovering. “I’m serious, baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. Hell, you’ve probably seen me at my best, and let’s be real, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture. “Come on, Dee. You think I don’t know who you are? I’ve watched you screw up a million times and still pull it off somehow. You’re not as hopeless as you think.”

“Yeah, but it’s all smoke and mirrors,” he muttered, leaning back and staring at the city. “I’m just this mess pretending to be a movie star. And people buy it, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”

She leaned closer, her smile gentle but knowing. “You’re not acting, Dee. This is you—chaotic, brilliant, all over the place. And somehow it works. That’s why people love you. It’s why I love you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, but it’s not exactly the stuff that makes for a stable life. I can’t even commit to a weekly gym routine, let alone… you know, anything permanent.”

“Well, it’s good you know that about yourself,” she said, her tone more serious now. “But just because you’re not ready for all that doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’ve built this crazy, messy, amazing life, and you’ve done it on your terms.”

Dieter glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes almost too much to bear. “But it’s still just a mess, right? Like, I don’t know how to be the guy who settles down, who has the white picket fence and the kids. It’s not in me.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less,” she pointed out, nudging his knee with hers. “You’re the guy who shows up when it counts, who makes people laugh when they need it, who cares more than he lets on. And that’s enough, Dee. It really is.”

Dieter stared at her, his expression softening. “You make it sound like I’m not totally screwing everything up.”

“Because you’re not,” she said simply, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing what works for you, and that’s more than most people can say. So don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

They sat in a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing each other inside and out. Dieter wasn’t sure if he could ever really change, but with her by his side, he felt like maybe he didn’t need to.

The media loved to ask when Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s lovable mess, was going to settle down. He always laughed it off, brushing it aside with jokes and his trademark self-deprecation. “Settle down?” he’d scoff to reporters, flashing that crooked grin. “Have kids? I can barely take care of myself. I mean, who’s gonna look after the baby when I’m off in Cabo or Amsterdam on a bender?”

He was always open about not wanting to be tied down, convinced that marriage and fatherhood were responsibilities he’d inevitably screw up just like everything else. Deep down, he didn’t think he was cut out for it. Not the commitment, not the kids—none of it. And yet, every time he thought about those nights spent talking with her, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his fears.

The truth was, Dieter loved being around kids, especially when visiting his favorite charities—arts programs, hospitals, anywhere that needed his presence to brighten the day. He had a soft spot for the kids who showed up at his movie premieres with homemade signs and for the shy ones who peeked out from behind their parents at hospital visits, their eyes lighting up at the sight of a real-life movie star. He’d spend hours signing autographs, posing for pictures, and handing out gifts. But wanting that momentary joy and having it every day were two entirely different things, and he didn’t think he was built for the kind of life that meant forever.

Then there was Vegas. It was one of those wild weekends that only Dieter and his friends could pull off, the kind that started with a simple plan and spiraled into chaos before anyone could catch their breath. They were there to celebrate a friend’s birthday—a milestone that felt more like a warning than a celebration to Dieter, who had spent the better part of the year dodging questions about settling down and growing up.

The night was a blur of neon lights, overpriced drinks, and the kind of reckless energy that only Vegas could inspire. Dieter and his best friend were deep into their third round of shots at some tacky but charming casino bar, laughing so hard their sides hurt. The conversation was easy, like it always was, jumping from half-remembered movie quotes to bad relationship stories that only got funnier with every shot.

“Remember when you two were drunk off margaritas and swore you’d get married if you were still single at 35?” one of their friends blurted out, pointing at Dieter and her with a tipsy grin. “Well, look at that—clock’s ticking, you two.”

“Oh please, they’d kill each other in a week,” another friend chimed in, rolling their eyes dramatically. “But hey, at least the headlines would be great.”

Dieter leaned back, smirking. “You think she’d kill me? I’m charming as hell.”

She snorted, leaning in closer to Dieter. “Charming? Sure, Dee, if charming means spilling three drinks and forgetting your lines.”

“Oh, you love it, don’t lie,” Dieter shot back, nudging her shoulder playfully.

Their friends egged them on, throwing out half-baked marriage advice between sips of whatever was in their glasses. “Just make sure you don’t pull a Ross and say the wrong name at the altar,” one joked, and they all burst into laughter, doubling over as the drinks kept flowing.

“Hey, I can pronounce her name just fine,” Dieter retorted, raising his glass to her. “What do you say, baby? You and me, Vegas style.”

“Wel…we’re way past 35 now…” she said, still smiling but now with a hint of mischief, “technically, we missed our window… so might as well make good on that old pact, right?”

Dieter stared at her, the room spinning slightly as he tried to read between the lines. They were supposed to be just friends, right? But it didn’t feel like a joke anymore, not when she looked at him like that. And for once, he didn’t want to think it through. He didn’t want to second-guess it or talk himself out of it like he usually did.

“Fuck it,” Dieter said, grinning wider than he had in months. “Let’s do it. You and me, baby. Let’s get hitched.”

Their friends erupted in cheers, half-shocked, half-encouraging, but it didn’t matter. They were drunk on cheap tequila and the reckless abandon of the Vegas Strip, where anything seemed possible. Before Dieter knew it, they were stumbling into a tacky little chapel off the main drag, the kind with neon hearts and an Elvis impersonator in the back who’d seen one too many late-night weddings.

The ceremony was a blur. Dieter remembered laughing so hard that he nearly dropped the ring—some gaudy, oversized thing they’d bought from a souvenir shop on the way over—and the way she squeezed his hand so tightly he could feel her nerves mixing with his own. There were no big speeches or dramatic declarations of love, just a lot of giggling, whispered jokes, and the kind of easy joy that felt like it belonged to them and them alone.

“Do you, Dieter Bravo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Elvis officiant drawled, barely keeping it together.

Dieter glanced at her, still half-expecting her to back out at the last second. But she was looking at him, eyes full of that familiar mix of sarcasm and something deeper that he’d never quite put a name to. “I do,” he said, and for once, it didn’t feel like a lie.

“And do you, sweetheart, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis asked, already cracking a grin.

She squeezed Dieter’s hand, barely containing her laughter. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Elvis squinted, pausing dramatically. “Are you sure? Divorces are expensive. Trust me, I’ve had three.”

Their friends howled from the pews, tossing out quips. “Yeah, blink twice if you need an escape plan!” one of them shouted, while another chimed in, “You’re stuck with him now, good luck!”

Dieter threw his arm around her, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m the best terrible decision you’ll ever make.”

She leaned in, grinning. “Guess we’re both screwed then.”

They kissed, and it was messy and off-center, but it felt right. It was the kind of kiss that was more about the laughter and less about the perfection of the moment, which was exactly how Dieter liked it. When they pulled apart, he was breathless, and she was glowing in a way that made the whole crazy, impulsive thing feel like the best decision he’d ever made.

They walked out of that chapel with matching rings and a new reality that neither of them fully understood but were more than willing to figure out together. And in true Dieter fashion, they celebrated the only way they knew how—by grabbing greasy burgers at an all-night diner and gambling away the rest of the night like newlyweds who couldn’t care less about what tomorrow would bring.

For once in his life, Dieter didn’t feel like he was running from anything. He was running toward something—toward her—and it felt like the only thing that made sense.

–

The first few months of marriage were an unpredictable whirlwind, much like the wedding itself. There were no grand changes, no dramatic shifts—just more of the same easy companionship they’d always had, now with the added humor of “Mrs. Bravo” peppered into their banter. They spent mornings in Dieter’s cluttered kitchen, arguing over the best way to make coffee while stumbling over each other in pajamas that never quite matched. Evenings were spent curled up on the couch, watching bad movies and stealing kisses during the credits like lovesick teenagers.

Their friends couldn’t get enough of it, either. The tabloids had gone wild over the news—Dieter Bravo, Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor, suddenly married to his long-time friend in a drunken Vegas escapade. Headlines like “Bravo’s Big Gamble” and “Hollywood’s Wildest Newlyweds” splashed across every gossip rag in the country. But Dieter and his wife took it in stride, shrugging off the noise and focusing on what actually mattered: them.

His family had been just as surprised but in the best way. They had welcomed her with open arms from the very first time she and Dieter had visited together. His mom had pulled her into a tight hug at the door, immediately peppering her with questions about her books and telling her how she had a shelf dedicated to them in the living room. Dieter’s siblings loved her, too—his sister often roping her into baking sessions in the kitchen, laughing over old stories about Dieter’s childhood antics that usually ended with him covered in mud or glitter or some combination of both.

It wasn’t long before she became a staple in their family gatherings, fitting in as if she’d always been there. Sunday dinners at the Bravo house turned into her favorite ritual. She’d help Dieter’s mom in the kitchen, rolling out dough for pies while swapping recipes and stories. Dieter’s nieces and nephews adored her, crowding around to hear tales of mystery and adventure, eyes wide as she brought her characters to life with every word.

“Can you tell us the one about the detective who finds the secret tunnel again?” one of his nephews had asked during Thanksgiving, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled, glancing at Dieter, who was sitting at the head of the table, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you promise to help me figure out what’s at the end of it,” she teased, ruffling his hair.

His father, a retired fertility expert who had always been the more reserved member of the family, quickly warmed up to her, too. They’d sit on the porch during long afternoons, sipping coffee and talking about life, books, and the occasional scientific trivia that she found endlessly fascinating. He appreciated her wit, her genuine interest in everyone around her, and the way she always seemed to make his son smile.

As the year rolled by, the Bravo family embraced her more and more, and she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. She was no longer just Dieter’s wife; she was a daughter-in-law, a sister, and an aunt. She was family.

So when Christmas rolled around again, she was eager to be back at the Bravo household, despite feeling under the weather. She’d been sick for nearly two weeks, and Dieter had been worried. She barely ate, surviving mostly on pesto chicken paninis and iced coffee—the only things she could keep down. Still, she was excited to see his family, to bask in the warmth of his mother’s home-cooked meals and his sister-in-law’s desserts. She was looking forward to being surrounded by people who loved her as much as she loved them.

The moment they stepped through the front door, Dieter’s mom engulfed her in a hug, commenting on how thin she looked, and his sister immediately dragged her into the kitchen, insisting on making her favorite cookies. Dieter watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smile. She fit here—so naturally, so effortlessly—that it almost made him forget how odd it all still felt to be someone’s husband. But then she’d look at him across the room, with that same smile she’d had since the bar in Vegas, and it felt right.

But as they settled into the cozy familiarity of his childhood home, Dieter’s father began to notice something. It wasn’t just that she looked tired—there was something else. A subtle glow to her skin, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at Dieter, the quiet but unmistakable aversions to certain foods she normally loved. When she grimaced at the sight of his wife’s famous lasagna and instead picked at a simple salad, he raised an eyebrow. He had seen it before, four times with his own wife, and the theory formed in his mind almost instantly.

It was the little things: how she leaned into Dieter when she thought no one was looking, resting her head on his shoulder like she couldn’t quite keep herself upright; the way her laughter was softer, tinged with something almost nervous. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine the entire evening, claiming she wasn’t in the mood, which was unlike her—especially when Dieter’s mom brought out her favorite bottle from the cellar.

Dieter’s dad observed quietly, piecing together the signs with a mix of curiosity and growing certainty. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but every instinct told him that there was more to her recent sickness than a simple bug.

–

Later that evening, after dinner, Dieter and his father found themselves outside on the patio. The chill in the air was biting, and Dieter’s breath formed little puffs of smoke as he lit a cigarette, the faint glow of the ember flickering in the dark. He offered one to his dad, who simply shook his head, declining as usual. They settled into an easy silence, the kind that came from years of shared moments like these, watching the yard stretch out before them, dotted with twinkling Christmas lights that cast a warm, festive glow over the familiar landscape.

Dieter took a long drag, savoring the brief buzz of nicotine, and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that always made him think too much, but tonight he welcomed it. He glanced sideways at his dad, whose face was half-lit by the soft glow of the porch light, lost in thought as he nursed his coffee.

“You know, son,” his father said finally, breaking the silence, “I couldn’t help but notice something about her tonight.”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

His father hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he swirled the coffee in his mug. “She’s been feeling under the weather, hasn’t she? Seems a bit off.”

Dieter nodded, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke in a slow stream. “Yeah, she’s been sick for a couple of weeks. Picky about food, which isn’t like her. She’s basically living on those pesto chicken paninis. She can’t keep much else down.”

His father chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing, like he was recalling something long ago. “Huh. That’s interesting. Reminds me of your mom back in the day.”

Dieter frowned, glancing over at him. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause, and his father’s eyes stayed fixed on the yard, lost in a memory that Dieter couldn’t quite place. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost gentle. “Have you considered she might be pregnant?”

Dieter’s reaction was instant—he snorted, nearly choking on his cigarette smoke as he laughed it off, but the sound was more nervous than amused. “Pregnant? Nah, no way. She’s got an IUD. Besides, we’ve been careful.”

His father smiled, but it wasn’t condescending. It was the kind of smile that spoke of experience, of having lived through more than one surprise in his lifetime. “IUDs aren’t foolproof, son. Nothing is. And I’ve seen those signs before. Aversions, fatigue, the way she looked at food tonight… I saw it with your mother every time she was pregnant.”

Dieter’s laugh faded, replaced by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as his mind raced. “You’re serious?”

“Look, I’m not saying she is,” his father said, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve been around this long enough to know the signs when I see them. I’m just saying, it’s possible.”

Dieter stared out at the yard, the once comforting sight now blurred by the thoughts colliding in his mind. He tried to dismiss it, to chalk it up to his dad’s habit of overanalyzing things. But suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks replayed in his head like a reel he couldn’t pause: the way she’d cried over soup earlier that evening, overwhelmed by finally finding something she could eat; the quiet, tired smiles; the sudden need to rest her head on his shoulder whenever she got the chance. Dieter had brushed it off as just a rough patch—nothing serious, nothing that couldn’t be fixed with rest and time.

But now, hearing his father say it out loud, it all started to click. The missed meals, the strange cravings, her emotional reactions to things that normally wouldn’t faze her. It was like putting together a puzzle he didn’t even know he was working on.

“What do I do if you’re right?” Dieter finally asked, his voice low, tinged with a mix of fear and something else he couldn’t quite name.

His father took another sip of his coffee, considering his son carefully. “You talk to her. Find out for sure. And whatever the outcome, you handle it together. That’s what this is, Dieter. Marriage, family—it's not about knowing every answer. It’s about facing it together, no matter how unexpected it is.”

Dieter nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He didn’t know if he was ready for what his father was suggesting, but one thing was clear: he needed to talk to her. His dad’s words hung heavy in the cold night air, and suddenly, the easygoing world Dieter had grown comfortable in felt a little less certain. 

–

That night, back in their room at Dieter’s parents’ house, the tension lingered like a thick fog. They were staying for the weekend, and though the familiarity of the guest room usually felt comforting, tonight it felt like the walls were closing in. Dieter sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts, circling back to the conversation with his father, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

She was curled up next to him, absorbed in her Kindle, but every so often, Dieter noticed her shifting slightly, like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out how to bring up what was weighing on him without sounding like he’d lost his mind.

“So, funny story,” Dieter started, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “My dad has this theory. He thinks you might be pregnant.”

She looked up from her Kindle, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dieter laughed, though it sounded more nervous than amused. He fidgeted with the remote, clicking through channels too fast to see what was on. “He’s been watching you tonight, noticing stuff. You know, the food aversions and all that. He said something about it reminding him of when my mom was pregnant.”

She blinked, staring at him like she wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. “That’s… random. I mean, it’s just paninis and iced coffee. And I’ve been stressed, that’s all. I mean, I have an IUD.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told him,” Dieter said, shrugging. “I told him it’s not possible, right? But he kept going on about how those things aren’t foolproof and—”

She cut him off, her laugh sharp and a little shaky. “No, yeah, of course. It’s just… I mean, we’ve been careful. I thought…”

Dieter raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “Careful? Are we really?” He gave her a knowing look, recalling their many reckless moments. “I mean, I lost count of the times we said, ‘eh, what’s the worst that could happen?’”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the grin peeking through. “Oh God, don’t remind me. You said it’d be fine because ‘science, baby!’”

“Yeah, classic me,” Dieter laughed, feeling the tension break just a little. “Maybe our ‘science’ needs some workshopping.”

They chuckled, genuinely amused by their own recklessness. For a moment, it felt like any other night, just the two of them joking around like they always did. But then the laughter faded, and the unspoken possibility lingered, nudging at the back of their minds.

Dieter hesitated, then set the remote down, his voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “IUDs aren’t a hundred percent, you know.”

She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes locked on him as if searching for some reassurance he couldn’t quite give. Finally, she set her Kindle aside, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Do you think… do you think he’s right?”

The question hung in the air, too big to ignore, and neither of them moved. Dieter rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing. “I don’t know, baby. But we could… find out.”

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly, and they didn’t wait to talk themselves out of it. The drive to the pharmacy was tense and quiet, but the nervous energy turned into something almost comical when they got inside. Dieter, trying to look inconspicuous in his cap and mask, accidentally grabbed a COVID test from the shelf and tossed it in the basket without looking.

She glanced at it, biting back a laugh. “Dee, unless you’re worried I’ve got a pandemic brewing, I think you grabbed the wrong kind of test.”

“What?” He squinted at the box, his eyes widening. “Oh, shit. I just saw ‘test’ and panicked. Could you imagine? ‘Congratulations, you’re… COVID positive!’”

They both snorted, trying to suppress their laughter as they swapped it out for a pile of pregnancy tests. “At least we’re wearing masks,” she quipped, trying to hide her nerves behind the humor.

Dieter nodded, their masks pulling at their grins as they paid quickly and slipped back out into the night. Back in their room, she took the tests into Dieter’s private bathroom, thankful she didn’t have to make the awkward walk down the hallway past his nephews, who were still glued to the PlayStation. Dieter paced the room, his anxiety growing with every passing second. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving in the bathroom—running water, the crinkle of plastic, the sound of her soft sighs—and each noise sent a jolt of unease through him.

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if his dad was right? What if they were really about to become parents? He didn’t know how to do this—any of it. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. Hell, he could barely take care of himself most days. But then he thought about her, about the way she used to talk about wanting a family, back in the early days of their friendship, years before they got married. She’d share those dreams in the quiet moments when they were lying in bed, late at night, her voice soft and wistful as she painted a picture of a life she wanted someday—one with kids, a messy house full of love, and mornings that started with chaos and ended with bedtime stories.

He hadn’t heard her talk about it in a long time, not since they’d crossed the line from best friends to whatever it was they’d become now. They hadn’t really discussed it after they got married, like the possibility had just been a footnote in their drunken Vegas vows, not something real. But Dieter knew she probably still wanted it, that deep down, those dreams hadn’t gone away, just tucked themselves into a quieter part of her heart.

And now, for the first time, Dieter let himself admit what he’d been denying all along—he wanted it, too. He tried to fight it, tried to tell himself he was still the same guy who didn’t want to be tied down, but the truth was, he’d settled down the moment he said “I do.” And now… he’s sure he’s ready to dream of that life, too. The one where they weren’t just figuring things out as they went but actually working towards something together, as husband and wife, as mom and dad.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and she stepped out, her face pale and her hands trembling slightly. She didn’t have to say anything; Dieter could see the truth in her eyes. Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom, and there they were, lined up on the counter: five pregnancy tests, each one showing two clear lines.

Positive. All of them.

Dieter stared at the tests, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something, anything, to say. He could hear her breathing beside him, shallow and uneven, and he knew her heart was pounding just as hard as his. She swallowed, her eyes fixed on the tests as if they might change if she stared long enough.

She finally broke the silence, her voice small but steady. “It’s okay, Dieter. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll… I’ll take care of it.”

–

Her words snapped Dieter back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to grasp what she meant. He watched her walk past him out of the bathroom, her movements brisk and determined, but there was a tremble in her step that made his stomach drop. She went straight to the dresser, grabbing her phone with a familiar sense of purpose. Dieter followed, his confusion mounting as she dialed a number with shaky hands.

“What are you doing?” Dieter asked, his voice edged with growing alarm. “Who are you calling in the middle of the night?”

She glanced at him but didn’t answer directly. “It’s fine, Dee. I’m going to take care of it.”

The line clicked, and a familiar voice filled the silence—one of her friends, an OB-GYN Dieter had met several times at dinner parties and gatherings. “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late,” she said into the phone, her voice tight but controlled. “I need another favor.”

Dieter’s heart sank as he heard the gasp on the other end. The doctor’s voice wavered, filled with concern. “Are you sure? I mean… are you really sure about this?”

Dieter watched her, still trying to catch up, but he could hear the tension in the doctor’s voice and the weight of what was being asked. She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his, and in that moment, Dieter felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. “I’m sure,” she said quietly. “I’ll wait for the prescription in the morning.”

She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling. Dieter felt his shock morphing into a hot, simmering anger, his chest tightening as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “What?” he asked, his voice rising, desperate to believe he’d misheard. “What prescription? Prenatal vitamins?” He was trying to hold onto some hope, clinging to the possibility that this wasn’t what it seemed, that she wasn’t about to make a decision without him. But deep down, he knew.

She sighed, biting her lower lip, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Dieter could see her knees wobble, and before he could process it, she was leaning against the side table, her legs barely holding her up. He rushed to her, guiding her gently to the bed and kneeling before her, his anger wavering as he saw the look in her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face, silent and relentless, and Dieter realized it was the first time he’d seen her cry in years. Not since her father had passed, not even when she’d broken up with someone he knew she had loved deeply. She was always so strong, so composed, but now she was trembling, and all she could manage were soft, broken apologies. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she repeated it over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Dieter’s anger melted away, replaced by a sharp pain that pierced his chest. He reached up, cupping her face gently, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay? Just… baby, please… can you tell me what that was all about?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she tried to collect herself. The silence between them was tense, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of what was happening. Finally, she spoke, her voice small and wavering. “I know you don’t want kids, Dieter. I’ve known that from the start, and I respect that. I love you so much, and I know I don’t say it often, but I do. I love the life we have together. And I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Dieter listened, the words sinking in, but every syllable felt like a sting. “You’re not ruining anything, baby,” he said, his voice softer now but still edged with confusion and hurt. “But you didn’t even… I mean, we didn’t even talk about it.”

She looked down, her tears falling faster now. “I was afraid to. You’ve always been so clear, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. I know kids were never part of the plan. I didn’t want to put that on you.”

Dieter took a deep breath, his mind still reeling, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “You’re not–Jesus…I understand why you feel this way baby…” he said gently, squeezing her hands. “And I’m sorry we never talked about it before, not even once. I know I said I didn’t want kids, and I thought that was it. But… then…” He sighed deeply… “W-we should at least talk about it before you go and get that prescription in the morning.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with tears, clearly caught between fear and guilt. “Dieter, I—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted softly, his tone calm but firm. “I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll support you. I’ll stand by you no matter what. But I need to know that if you go through with this, it’s because you want to, not because you think it’s what I want. I respect you, and I love you. And yeah, maybe I’ve always been afraid of having kids, but I also know you’ve wanted this. I’ve known for years, and I’m sorry we’ve never talked about it since getting married. But maybe… maybe now’s the time we should.”

She shook her head, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t want to pop our bubble, Dieter. I’ve spent so long thinking that if I brought this up, it would be too much for you. You’ve said it before—kids are overwhelming, right? And I get it. Hell, the thought of it overwhelms me, too. But it’s different for you. I didn’t want to lose you. I love you so much, Dee. I love what we have. And I was scared that… that if I bring it up, it would drive you away.”

Dieter’s heart ached as he watched her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But you can’t just… handle this alone. Not for me.”

She took a shaky breath, the truth finally spilling out in the soft, halting words she’d kept buried. “That’s why I got the IUD. A few months after we got married… after I found out I was pregnant. You were away in London for that shoot, and I was alone. And I—” She paused, choking back a sob as she struggled to get the words out. “I panicked. I was terrified of what it would mean for us, for you, for everything. So, I… I took care of it. I didn’t want to burden you with it, and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Dieter’s face went pale, his expression shifting from shock to something more profound—hurt, confusion, and an aching sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. His hold on her hands went slack. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t known. While he was away, filming scenes and living the life he thought he wanted, she had been here, facing a reality that should have been theirs to share.

“You—” Dieter started, standing up, trying to say something but the words caught in his throat. “You did that… without telling me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Dee. You were gone, and I was scared. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or forced into something you never wanted. I thought it was better that way.”

Dieter’s mind raced as he tried to grasp what she was saying. He ran a hand down his face, cupping his mouth as he took in a long drag of air. The anger he’d felt earlier had melted into something more painful, something that cut deeper than he expected. He’d never wanted this, but now, faced with the reality that they’d lost something before it had even begun, Dieter felt a profound sense of grief for what could have been—and for what he still had a chance to fight for.

He swallowed hard, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I wish you’d told me. I wish you hadn’t gone through all that alone. I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve said a lot of shit about not wanting kids, but… I want you. And if you want this—if you want us to have this—then I want it, too. But you have to be sure. This isn’t just about me. It’s us, and we can’t keep pretending it’s not.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all she saw was the man who had always been there, even when they hadn’t known what the hell they were doing. Dieter knelt before her, his hands steady on her knees, offering her the quiet reassurance she’d been afraid to ask for. They were scared, both of them, but for the first time, it felt like they were scared together.

A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. She stared down at her trembling hands, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Finally, she broke the quiet, her voice small and cracking under the strain. “I understand if you want a divorce, Dieter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks again, and she looked up at him, and he could feel and see the pain and resignation in them. “I’d give it to you, you know. If that’s what it takes for you to live your truth. If it means you get to live the life you always wanted—not something complicated by a kid and a wife.”

Dieter’s breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head, trying to grasp the gravity of what she was saying. “What? No… what are you talking about? Divorce? That’s not—”

“I don’t want to trap you, Dee,” she interrupted, her voice quivering. “I never wanted you to feel stuck. At least if we divorce, I get to keep my baby, and you get to live your life. We both get what we want.” She said it with a heartbreaking kind of finality, her gaze dropping as though she couldn’t bear to look at him.

Hearing her say “her baby” like that shattered something inside Dieter. He could feel his chest tighten as his emotions boiled over, hot tears streaming down his face. “You think that’s what I want?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to keep it down. They were still in his parents’ house, and he didn’t want anyone hearing this, but he couldn’t keep the hurt out of his words. “You think I want to live some half-assed life without you? Without… our baby?”

She flinched at his words, torn between the guilt and the love she still felt for him. “Dieter, you’ve always said—”

“I know what I’ve said!” Dieter snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. “God, I’ve been so fucked up. So caught up in what I thought I wanted, what I told everyone I didn’t want. I never… I never told you how much I love you. How much I need you. And now you’re willing to sacrifice everything because of me? Because I’m too much of a mess to communicate? That’s not fair, baby. That’s on me.”

She looked away, blinking back tears as she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s not about blame, Dieter. I can’t live with the guilt of not giving you the chance to have the life you deserve. I’d rather… I’d rather set you free than see you stuck in something you don’t want. I love you too much for that.”

Dieter shook his head, his shoulders slumping as the enormity of her words hit him. He didn’t know how to make her understand. “But I don’t want to be free,” he said, almost pleading. “I don’t want any of this without you. I’ve spent my whole life running from everything—commitment, responsibility, you name it. But not you. Not us. You… you made me realize I could be more than that.”

She listened, her heart breaking with every word. “I don’t want to be unfair, Dee. I’ve spent so long dreaming about this—about being a mom. And I know kids were never part of your dream, and I just… I don’t want to take that from you.”

Dieter wiped his eyes, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re not taking anything from me. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make decisions for me. You’ve always been my partner, my equal… baby, you make me want to be a better person… whatever the hell that looks like…”

She let out a shaky laugh through her tears, reaching up to cup his face. “I just… I didn’t want to pop our bubble. It’s been so perfect, even with all the chaos. And the thought of losing that, of losing you in such a way… it scares me more than anything.”

Dieter’s sobs turned to quiet laughter, a broken sound that mirrored the bittersweetness of the moment. “You think I’m not scared? I’ve been scared of fucking everything my whole life, and you were the one person who made me think I didn’t have to be. You’re my team, baby. We’re a damn good one. And I know that if we have this kid… our kid… we’d be amazing parents, too.”

She looked at him, her tears finally slowing, replaced by a fragile smile that made Dieter’s heartache. “I just don’t want to be unfair,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

“You’re not being unfair,” Dieter said, his tone tender but firm. “Please, just… reconsider. Our relationship, our marriage… our baby. Let’s figure it out together. No more guessing what the other person wants.”

She nodded, her eyes locking with his, and for the first time since the night had started, she felt a glimmer of hope. They were both terrified, still reeling from everything that had come to light, but at least now, they were facing it together, no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the two of them and the uncertain but hopeful future with a baby they were ready to build.

–

The next morning was Christmas, and despite the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded the night before, Dieter and his wife had decided to keep their news to themselves for now. It was too early—too new, too precious, and far too complicated to try to explain just yet. They put on their best smiles, exchanged gifts with his family, and managed to get through the morning without giving anything away.

As soon as they left his parents’ house, they headed straight to her OB-GYN’s office. Dieter squeezed her hand in the waiting room, both of them tense but trying to stay calm. When the doctor finally confirmed the news—they were eight weeks along—it felt both real and surreal at the same time. They were both relieved and overwhelmed, knowing it was still too early to tell anyone, too early for announcements, but their hearts were already full of the possibility.

Back at their house, Dieter immediately started making little changes, moving things around and insisting on turning one of the guest rooms into a nursery. “This room gets the best light,” he said, gesturing animatedly as they stood in the empty space, still filled with random furniture and boxes they hadn’t sorted through. “We can do a crib over here, maybe a rocking chair by the window… Oh, and I saw this thing on Pinterest—don’t laugh—about these little wall decals, like stars and moons. We could do a whole sky theme.”

She watched him, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t even know you had a Pinterest account.”

Dieter turned, shrugging sheepishly. “What? I like my aesthetics.”

She laughed, her heart swelling at the sight of him so invested. It was like watching a kid with a new project, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. “You’re really into this, huh?”

He looked at her, eyes sparkling with an excitement that was infectious. “Yeah, I am. What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, it’s just… I never thought I’d see the day when Dieter Bravo is this excited about becoming a dad.”

Dieter’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, get used to it, baby. I’m all in.”

As the days passed, they began to settle into this new phase of their life together, their once spontaneous and free-spirited existence slowly evolving without them even realizing it. They had always been people of the moment, living day to day with little thought of what came next. Before, their conversations rarely drifted beyond the present—they were about last-minute weekend trips, late-night takeout, or whatever wild idea Dieter would come up with next. The future was never really on the table, not in a serious way. They thrived on spontaneity, on the freedom of not being tied down by plans or expectations.

But now, there was a subtle but undeniable shift in the air between them. It wasn’t something they talked about directly, but rather something that quietly settled in, like a warm, comforting blanket. Their conversations began to naturally drift into what was coming, not just what was happening now. They found themselves talking about baby names over breakfast, Dieter suggesting offbeat, quirky names that made her laugh while she countered with more classic choices that she’d always dreamed of, being the writer that she is and her love for literature.

Dieter would randomly pull out his phone to show her baby gear he’d found online, everything from the practical to the absurdly adorable. “Look at this stroller, baby. It’s got all-terrain wheels! Imagine us taking the kid hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking, but, you know… walking down a slightly uneven sidewalk.”

She’d laugh, watching him with a kind of fondness that was new, soft, and overwhelming. She’d catch him in the nursery sometimes, hunched over with a tape measure, making notes and sketches of where things should go. He was planning—actually planning—and it warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

One afternoon, she found him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by paint samples and wallpaper swatches, muttering to himself about whether to go with the pale blue or the pastel purple. “I don’t know, do you think clouds are too cliché? What if we did something more abstract? Like a sky, but, like, artsy. You know, like, dreamland stuff.”

She leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing at her lips. “Dieter Bravo, debating interior design for a nursery. Who would’ve thought?”

He looked up, his grin boyish and bright. “I know, right? Next, I’ll be on HGTV. ‘Bravo’s Baby Rooms.’ It’ll be a hit.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled with something deeper. They were still them, still the same pair who’d decided to get married on a whim in Vegas, who’d spent years living in the moment and rarely looking ahead. But now, the future wasn’t something scary or overwhelming. It was something they were building together, brick by brick, conversation by conversation.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, she would find herself lying awake at night, her hand resting on the small swell of her belly, feeling the gentle flutters of life within her. Dieter would be next to her, snoring softly, and she’d just listen, soaking in the warmth of their home. She realized then how much had changed between them—how they’d gone from two people floating through life, clinging to the present, to a couple that was starting to dream together. 

It wasn’t just about the baby, though that was the catalyst. It was the way their whole world had shifted, gently guiding them toward a future that felt bright and full of possibility.

Their once spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants relationship was evolving into something richer, something that made space for plans and hopes. She’d catch Dieter browsing parenting books or obsessively researching the best baby monitors, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of love she hadn’t quite known before.

It wasn’t forced or awkward; it was the most natural thing in the world, like breathing. They were still the same Dieter and his wife, the quirky mystery novel writer—impulsive, playful, unorthodox in every way—but now, their lives together carried an undercurrent of something… warmer, softer, and a little more planned than usual. 

One evening, she was curled up on the couch, cozy under a thick, soft blanket, her Kindle in one hand and the other resting gently on the small but noticeable bump of her belly. She’d grown accustomed to the comforting weight of her growing child. Dieter strolled in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of popcorn, and dropped onto the couch beside her with a contented sigh.

“You look way too comfortable,” she teased, nudging him playfully with her foot, a smile tugging at her lips as she watched him sink into the cushions like he belonged there.

“I am,” Dieter said, settling in beside her and resting his head against her shoulder. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes drifting down to her bump, and his hand found hers, resting warmly over the swell of her belly. “I love this. I love everything about this.”

She chuckled, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft circles on her belly, feeling the little flutters of movement beneath her skin. “You always loved kids, Dee. I know that. I just… I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d actually be a dad.”

Dieter’s smile softened, and tears welled in his eyes as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her chest. She could feel the quiet, vulnerable sobs shaking his shoulders, and it melted her heart. “You’re making my deepest, darkest dreams come true, baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her warmth, words spilling out with raw sincerity.

She laughed, tilting her head back as she ruffled his hair affectionately. “I thought your deepest, darkest dreams that I made come true involved a strap-on, Bravo.”

Dieter snorted, lifting his head just enough to flash her a cheeky grin. Without missing a beat, he buried his face into her chest, playfully motorboating her. She squealed, swatting at his head as they both dissolved into laughter, tangled together on the couch.

“God, you’re such a perv,” she giggled, half-heartedly pushing him away even though she was laughing too hard to mean it.

He finally pulled back, grinning unapologetically as he reached up and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing playfully. “Honk honk,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but unable to keep a straight face. “Dieter, you’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, still chuckling as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

“I love you, mama.” He whispered against her mouth. 

–

As days turned into weeks, they found themselves back at the doctor’s office for the 20-week scan. The drive there was tense, filled with nervous silence and half-hearted attempts at small talk that did little to mask their growing anxiety. Dieter’s usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with restless energy, and she could feel it radiating off him as they sat in the waiting room, both of them on edge.

She sat nervously beside him, her leg bouncing up and down as she stared at the outdated magazines scattered on the table in front of them. Dieter glanced over, noticing the jittery movement. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, offering a crooked smile. “Babe, you’re bouncing your leg like you’re tweaking. Seriously, I’ve been around a lot of meth heads, and you’re giving me flashbacks.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as a burst of laughter escaped, her nerves momentarily easing. “I can’t help it, okay? This is… I’m freaking out.”

Dieter reached over, his fingers lacing through hers as he squeezed gently. “I get it, but you gotta chill. You’re acting like you’re on something, and trust me, I know that vibe.” He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ve gotta stop reading all those Reddit posts. They’re nothing but horror stories.”

She nodded, though she still looked pale, her eyes flicking around the room as if searching for something to distract herself. “I know, I just… I can’t help it. I’ve read too many stories about 20-week scans going wrong. What if something’s wrong, Dieter? I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dieter leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Hey, nothing’s wrong. Our kid’s strong. Just like you. Baby’s gonna be fine, okay? Let’s just breathe.”

They were finally called into the scan room, and the doctor greeted them with a warm smile, chatting casually as she prepared the machine. “How are we feeling today? Ready to see this little one?” she asked, her voice calm and reassuring as she applied the cool gel to her belly. Dieter stood by her side, holding her hand tightly, both of them staring at the monitor with bated breath.

The doctor moved the wand over her stomach, her brows knitting slightly as she searched the screen, waiting for a heartbeat. At first, there was nothing—just static silence, the absence of that familiar, rhythmic thump that they both so desperately wanted to hear. The doctor adjusted the wand, repositioning and angling it slightly, her expression remaining neutral but focused.

Dieter could feel his wife’s grip tighten, her fingers digging into his, and he squeezed back, his own heart pounding. “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

The doctor glanced at them, her smile reassuring but a little strained. “Sometimes the baby’s in a tricky position so it’s hard to get the heartbeat. Let’s just give it a moment.” She moved the wand again, her eyes flicking between the screen and her belly as she pressed a bit harder, trying to get a better view.

But the silence lingered, and the tension in the room grew thicker. Dieter could feel his pulse racing, his mind going a mile a minute. He tried to keep calm, tried to joke, but his voice came out strained. 

“Kid’s already messing with us, huh? Definitely takes after me.”

It falls flat, and he frowns deeper. 

The doctor’s brows furrowed as she moved the wand slowly, deliberately, the silence stretching on until it was almost unbearable. “Come on, little one,” she murmured under her breath, adjusting the machine again.

She glanced at Dieter and his wife, reading the fear on their faces. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but try not to panic. This happens sometimes.” The words were meant to soothe, but each passing second felt like an eternity, and Dieter felt like the walls were closing in.

Suddenly, the doctor paused, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh—hold on. I think I forgot to turn on the sound.” She reached over and pressed a button on the machine, and instantly, the room filled with the steady, reassuring thump of their baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong.

Dieter and his wife both let out a collective sigh of relief, laughing shakily as the tension broke. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her head falling back against the table as she squeezed Dieter’s hand. “You just shaved ten years off my life.”

The doctor chuckled, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that. It happens more often than you’d think.” She moved the wand slightly, showing them their baby on the screen. “There we go. Heartbeat is strong, and baby looks perfect.”

Dieter let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his eyes as he glanced at his wife. “Kid’s already got us on edge. I guess that’s just payback for all the years I’ve been a handful.”

They all shared a brief, much-needed laugh, the tension slowly melting away. But the doctor’s expression turned a bit more serious as she continued to move the wand, examining the screen with careful precision. She began marking key areas on the screen, capturing images and making notes as she went. “Now, remember, this is your 20-week scan,” she said, her tone gentle but factual. “This is an important one because it’s when we check for congenital anomalies. We’ll be looking closely at your baby’s organs and development to make sure everything is on track.”

Dieter and his wife nodded, their earlier relief tempered by the weight of what the doctor was saying. This wasn’t just about hearing the heartbeat; it was about seeing if their baby was healthy, if everything was developing the way it should. The room fell quiet again, the soft whir of the machine the only sound as the doctor carefully scanned each part of their baby’s tiny body, capturing and saving images to review.

“We’re looking at the brain and skull,” the doctor explained, pointing to the image on the screen as she took a snapshot. “The structures look well-formed, and everything is measuring normally.” She moved the wand again, pausing over the baby’s chest and marking the image. “And here’s the heart. We’re checking for proper function, looking at the chambers and blood flow. So far, everything looks great.”

Dieter squeezed his wife’s hand, the feeling of both awe and anxiety filling the cavity of his chest. Every tiny movement on the screen felt monumental, every word from the doctor a lifeline. The doctor continued, showing them the spine, the kidneys, the limbs—every detail scrutinized with care and captured for documentation.

“And here’s the stomach and the diaphragm. We’re looking for normal positioning and function,” she said, moving methodically, her voice steady and calm. “All good signs here.” She took another image, marking it on the screen with a series of measurements.

Dieter’s wife squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on the screen, watching their baby’s tiny fingers flex and curl. “Is that… is that the baby’s hand?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder.

“Yes, it is,” the doctor smiled, zooming in on the tiny hand and capturing the image. “Five fingers, all accounted for.”

They watched in silence, their emotions swinging from relief to fear and back again with every scan of the baby’s developing organs. The doctor’s voice was steady, reassuring them as she checked for any signs of congenital anomalies. Each confirmation that everything was normal felt like a small victory, a breath they didn’t realize they were holding.

“Everything looks normal and healthy,” the doctor finally said, pulling back and saving the last image. “Your baby is developing beautifully.”

Dieter and his wife both let out breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding, their hands still clasped tightly together. It wasn’t just relief—it was gratitude, to the doctor and the universe, for keeping their little bun healthy. 

They thanked the doctor, their voices filled with a concoction of relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy. As they left the office, they felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that their baby was safe and thriving. There’s only one thing for them to do now: start telling their family and friends. 

–

“You okay?” Dieter asked, his voice gentle as they pulled into his parents’ driveway. The house looked warm and welcoming, draped in fairy lights that twinkled against the evening sky, but she couldn’t quite shake the tightness in her chest.

She nodded, but it was automatic, her mind racing with thoughts she hadn’t fully processed, and her tears just started spilling like clockwork. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a lot, you know? Your parents are going to be so happy, and I—I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have anyone to tell.” She tried to laugh it off, her voice catching slightly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “God, listen to me. I’m such a mess. It’s probably just hormones.”

Dieter squeezed her hand, his expression softening. He knew how much she missed her dad, how his absence lingered in moments like these. “It’s not just hormones, baby,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to feel this. I wish your dad was here, too. I think about it all the time—how proud he’d be, how he’d probably be spoiling you right now.”

She let out a shaky breath, “It’s stupid, but it just hit me today, you know? Like, he was the only family I had, and now… I guess I thought I was past all this. But it’s different now. This is so big, and I feel like I’m missing that piece.”

Dieter pulled her hand up, kissing her knuckles softly. “It’s not stupid. And you’re not without parents completely. My parents love you—hell, they might love you more than they love me. They text you more than they text me, anyway.”

She let out a laugh, and it felt good, a brief moment of lightness breaking through the weight in her chest. “They do, don’t they? They’re always sending me recipes, cute cat and dog vides, and asking for book recommendations. Meanwhile, you get the ‘how’s your liver?’ texts.”

Dieter grinned, happy to see her smile even through tears. “Exactly. Trust me, they’re going to be over the moon about this. You’re their family, too. And yeah, it’s big—it’s bigger than anything we’ve done—but you don’t have to carry that alone. My parents, they’re gonna be here, every annoying, loving step of the way.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling a little more grounded. “Thanks, babe. I needed that.”

Dieter nodded, his own emotions bubbling under the surface. He knew how hard this was for her, and he wanted to make sure she never felt like she was alone in this. “Hey, we’re in this together. And we’re about to make their year, so let’s go in there and give them something to celebrate.”

They stepped out of the car, hand in hand, and walked up to the front door. She adjusted her coat, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest, but Dieter squeezed her hand reassuringly. They’d been parked for a while, gathering themselves, and now it was time. Dieter knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Dieter’s mother stood there, her expression a mix of concern and relief. “Oh, there you are! We were starting to get worried—you’ve been sitting out there for ages. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Everything’s fine,” Dieter assured her, giving her a quick hug. “We were just… talking.”

His mom nodded, though she kept glancing between them, still a little uncertain. “It’s so good to see you two! Come in, come in.”

Dieter’s father was in the living room, setting out coffee and cookies on the table. He looked up, grinning in his usual dry way. “Hey, you two. What’s this? I thought you’d be busy writing another bestseller or maybe dragging Dieter around to get some culture.”

Dieter laughed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not that, but it’s something just as good.”

His wife exchanged a quick look with him, her nerves sparking up again. Dieter, sensing her hesitation, gave her an encouraging smile and gently reached up to help her with her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders, he draped it neatly over the back of the couch, revealing the gentle curve of her growing bump.

His parents’ eyes widened, and for a second, they both just stared, taking it in. Dieter’s mom’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my gosh… are you…?”

Dieter’s wife nodded, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and joy. “We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence, and then his mom let out a joyous cry, rushing forward to hug her. “Oh, sweetheart! This is the most wonderful news! Look at you—how far along are you? I can’t believe it!”

Dieter’s dad, who usually kept his emotions under wraps, pulled Dieter into a hug, his voice thick with pride. “Son, this is incredible. I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. I’m not sure if you remember this, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure you’d ever get your life together, let alone settle down.”

Dieter blinked, caught off guard by his dad’s words. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.” He hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking again. “I know I’ve been a mess, but… I’m really excited about this. I want to do it right.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder, his expression warm. “You’ve already done right by me. You’ve grown up, Dieter, more than I ever thought possible. And now you’re going to be a dad. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all settled into the living room, Dieter’s mom already buzzing with plans. “Okay, so tell me everything! When’s the due date? How are you feeling? Have you thought about names yet? We have to start planning—oh, and the nursery! We’ll need to paint, get a crib—”

Dieter held up his hands, laughing. “Mom, slow down. You’re going to choke yourself on your own saliva with how fast you’re going. One thing at a time.”

She laughed, waving him off but nodding. “Okay, okay. But this is just… it’s all so exciting. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, and now it’s finally happening.”

Dieter’s wife smiled, feeling the warmth of Dieter’s mom’s excitement wash over her. “Thank you. Really, I’m so glad we get to share this with you. It’s been a lot to take in, but having you both here means the world.”

Dieter’s mom squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with emotion. “You’re not without parents completely, you know that, right? You’ve got us now. We’re going to be right here with you, every crazy, wonderful moment.”

She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m so grateful for that. You have no idea.”

Dieter’s dad leaned in, his voice quieter but no less heartfelt. “And I mean it, Dieter. I see the way you are with her, how much you’ve grown. You’ve got this, both of you. And I know you’re going to be amazing parents.”

As they continued to talk, laugh, and make plans, one thing stood out among them– they knew there was so much ahead—so many unknowns, so many firsts—but for now, it was enough to just be together and celebrate this beautiful news.

–

After spending a few hours basking in the joy and warmth of Dieter’s parents, they knew the next step was sharing the news with the rest of the world. It felt like another hurdle, one they were both eager and anxious to jump. They drove back home, feeling the weight of their secret beginning to lift. 

Once they were settled on their couch, they knew it was time to tell Dieter’s manager. Dieter pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, glancing over at his wife. “Ready?”

She nodded, though a nervous flutter still twisted in her stomach. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Dieter hit the call button, putting it on speaker. His manager picked up on the second ring, his voice chipper and businesslike. “Dieter, my man! What’s up? You ready to talk about the next big project? We’ve got offers coming in like crazy.”

Dieter laughed, exchanging a look with his wife. “Hey, uh, about that… we’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his manager’s voice dropped, curious and cautious. “Oh God, are you in trouble again? Do I need to get a lawyer on the line?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dieter said quickly, his grin wide. “Actually, it’s the opposite of trouble.”

His wife jumped in, smiling as she spoke. “We’re having a baby.”

The line went quiet for a beat, and then his manager erupted in a cheer. “What? Oh my God! Are you serious? This is amazing! Bravo’s having a baby! You two, this is incredible.”

They laughed, feeling the enthusiasm radiating through the phone. “Yeah, we’re serious,” Dieter said. “We’re excited, and we wanted to let you know before it goes public.”

His manager was still buzzing, the excitement palpable. “You’re going to break the internet with this. But listen, you’ve got to be prepared. This is going to be huge news—your fans, the media, everyone’s going to go nuts. Some good, some bad, you know how it is. But honestly, this is the best news I’ve heard all year.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, exchanging congratulations and discussing the logistics of managing the media frenzy that would inevitably follow. Once they hung up, Dieter turned to her, his eyes bright. “You ready to tell the world?”

She nodded, and together, they crafted a simple but heartfelt post for social media. They chose a candid photo taken that morning, with Dieter’s hand resting protectively over her small bump, both of them smiling with unfiltered joy. The caption read: Our greatest adventure yet. Baby Bravo coming soon.

They hit ‘share,’ and within moments, the post began to explode. Likes, comments, and shares flooded in at a speed that was almost overwhelming. Messages of congratulations poured in from friends, fans, and fellow celebrities. The overwhelming support was heartwarming, and they found themselves caught up in the happiness of it all.

But as the notifications kept coming, there were, of course, some that stung. Dieter scrolled through, his brow furrowing at the inevitable wave of negativity from the corners of his fanbase that couldn’t handle change.

“She’s probably just using him for fame. Classic.”

“Guess Dieter’s fun days are officially over.”

“He doesn’t deserve this. What about all the times he said he didn’t want kids?”

Dieter sighed, shaking his head as he turned off the screen. “I knew there’d be some backlash, but damn. People can be ruthless.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I mean, I expected some of it, but it still hurts. I just thought… I don’t know, that people would be happy for us.”

Dieter pulled her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, don’t let them get to you. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get here. This is our moment, not theirs.”

She nodded, leaning into his comfort. “I know, it’s just… I guess I didn’t expect people to be so… mean. I thought this would be different.”

Dieter kissed her temple, his touch gentle. “Some people will never be happy, babe. But look at all the love we’ve got here.” He pulled up the comments from their closest friends, the ones who knew them beyond the headlines. Messages of support, love, and shared joy filled the screen, reminding them of the people who truly mattered.

“Look at this one,” Dieter said, reading aloud. “‘I always knew you’d be the best parents. Baby Bravo is lucky to have you both.’” He smiled, scrolling down. “And this one—‘I’m so proud of you guys. Can’t wait to meet the little one.’”

She smiled, letting the warmth of those messages push away the sting of the negativity. “I guess we have to focus on that, huh?”

“Exactly,” Dieter said, squeezing her close. “This is our family. Our life. And no one gets to take that away from us.”

They spent the rest of the evening curled up together, ignoring the noise of the outside world and focusing on the love that poured in from those who truly understood. Their phones continued to buzz, and the news spread quickly, but for now, it was just the two of them, dreaming about their future with the baby they were already so deeply in love with.

A few weeks had passed since their announcement, and life had begun to settle into a new kind of normal. 

They were still receiving messages of congratulations, along with the occasional snarky comment, but the love outweighed the negativity by miles. 

Dieter and his wife had embraced this next phase with open hearts, pouring over baby books, setting up the nursery, and spending quiet moments together, dreaming about the future.

One night, as they sat in the nursery—still half-finished, with paint samples and swatches scattered everywhere—Dieter was busy assembling a crib, grumbling softly as he fumbled with the instructions. His wife sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him with a soft smile, one hand resting on her belly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your dad to help with that?” she teased, noting his intense focus and the stray bolts lying around.

Dieter looked up, smirking. “Nah, I’ve got it. Besides, I’ve got to prove I can put something together that’s not going to collapse on us. I mean, it’s literally a crib. If I can do this, I can do anything.”

She laughed, watching as he finally managed to fit the pieces together, looking far too proud of himself. He stood back, admiring his handiwork before turning to her, his smile broad and genuine. “See? Told you I’d figure it out.”

She patted the spot beside her on the floor, and he sat down, pulling her into his side. They sat there quietly for a moment, both gazing at the crib—the first tangible piece of their new life together.

“Can you believe this is happening?” she murmured, her voice soft with wonder. “Sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

Dieter nodded, his hand drifting to rest over her bump. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in a lot of weird dreams, but this… this is the best one. And it’s real.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against her cheek. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

He turned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “We already are, baby. And it’s only going to get better.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the promise of what was to come—messy, beautiful, and entirely theirs.

[chipperchemical]

skizzpulse with 19…. slow burn skizzpulse save me

Skizz/Impulse - a long-awaited kiss

word count: 419

A/N: there was a fire alarm while i was writing this but that didn't stop the grind. slow burn skizzpulse will save us all :)

prompt list is here!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It was the end of the third date. If Impulse knew anything, it was that this is the moment: it's proper etiquette, it's polite. At the end of the third date, you should offer a kiss. It's simple.

That doesn't stop the questions from rising in his head. Sure, it was only the third formal date, but he and Skizz had been best friends for a decade. Did that mean the kiss should've been sooner? Or maybe later? Was he moving too fast or too slow?

The worry bubbled up in his chest as he and Skizz approached PixelPulse Valley, with Skizz having walked him home after their date. (What a sweetheart. Should Impulse be leaving the first kiss up to him?) This was it, he'd offer it at the doorway, a parting kiss.

"You good, Dippledop?" Skizz checked in, leaning down a little to look at the demon's face. It was only then that Impulse noticed that they were already stood outside of his door: when did they get here?!

"Yeah! Peachy..." He looked away flustered, "Uh, I had an amazing time out with you."

"Me too!" Skizz's immediate and enthusiastic reply came, easing some of Impulse's nerves if only slightly, "Let's do it again!"

"Yeah!" Impulse swallowed, "Our third date. I think- Um, okay. I was wondering if you wanted a.. uh, a kiss. A goodbye kiss. Since this is our third date and all."

His heart thumped up into his throat. Why was this so nerve-wracking?! Skizz was his absolute best friend, he knew that he'd never make fun of him or think he was stupid, yet the anxiety still bubbled up! The heartbeat in his ears was so loud as he stared up at the angel's eyes; he wished that he was like Skizz, that he could tell what a person was thinking or feeling with just a glance. Instead, the face in front of him morphed and Impulse didn't have a clue what it meant.

It wasn't until Skizz was leaning down and pressing their foreheads together that Impulse caught up with what was happening. Skizz wrapped both of his wings around him, drawing them close in a warm cocoon, and pulled Impulse into a soft kiss. A kiss packed with the love and affection of ten years, a kiss full of hope and joy and comfort. It tasted like heaven.

"How was that?" Skizz murmured, a tone in his voice that was difficult to place -- nervousness?

"Amazing. Amazing." Impulse laughed, almost breathless, "Do it more."

[moonswolfie]

HQ!! Boys with a poet S/O

hey hey hey guess who's back with a super self indulgent piece of shit fic (i am joking, this is my humour)

also let's just say the reader does not write about cute lightearted things (but if you'd like to see a version where the reader writes cute stuff lmk!!)

so, yk TW for implied mental turmoil and an overall angsty hurt/comfort mood for these

Characters featured: Oikawa, Akaashi, Kageyama, Bokuto, Iwa chan

OIKAWA honestly wouldn't believe that those poems were written by you at first. When you excitedly gave him some of your poems to read, he thought they would be cutesy love poems dedicated to him and only him, not this. "What...? Are they bad?" You seemed worried at his wide-eyed expression. "Baby, are you ...okay?" He asked out of the blue, the genuine worry in his tone knocking the wind out of you. "Hahaha, it feels so weird hearing you say that...!" You tried your best to not let any more laughter escape you. "What?! Am I not allowed to be a good boyfriend now?!" He was offended by your reaction, slightly clutching the poems in his hands. "No, it's just... unusual to see you this concerned about me." You said with a half-smile. You had gotten so used to Oikawa's light-hearted flirty attitude, that you sort of forgot just what kind of person he is. "Just what do you think of me?" He sighed, suddenly pulling you in for a hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" All you did was nod, feeling relieved that he understands.

AKAASHI 's eyes would widen gradually as he read the contents of your poem. You gave him 5, but he already feels horrible, and he's only on the first one. He almost doesn't want to believe you wrote this. He becomes worried about you, doing a deep analysis on your poem since he wants to understand every part before approaching you with his worries. The next day when you greet him happily, he simply hugs you. "I'm sorry for not noticing..." is all he says, and though it takes you a bit to understand what he means, you feel overwhelmingly relieved he isn't judging you for what happened. "It's okay, I didn't tell you, you couldn't have known..." you assured him, knowing your boyfriend's tendency to overthink, he would beat himself up if you said nothing. "Next time, please please tell me about things like this. I can't stand the thought of you suffering alone." He squeezed you tighter.

KAGEYAMA is confused. Reading and understanding poems was never his strong suit, but yours are especially confusing to him. You laughed a little at his concentration face, and he handed you your poem back, still confused. "What does this even mean...?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Ahaha, don't worry about it too much... I wrote it like that on purpose." You made your poem vague and messy on purpouse, something you knew Kageyama probably couldn't understand properly. Awkward silence filled the room, and Kageyama silently hugged you all of a sudden. "I don't get why, but I got the random urge to hug you just now..." he mumbled silently, squeezing you in his grip. He must have noticed the sadness behind your voice and just doesn't know how to properly comfort you. "You said that out loud, Tobio." You smiled. "Shit..."

BOKUTO 's smile drops suddenly as he reads your poem. When he found you writing it, he insisted that he must read it no matter what. But what in the world was this? Why were you writing about all this sad stuff? "Babe...." his hands trembled slightly as he looked at you while you were smiling as you usually do. "Why would you say that about yourself?" He was very very saddened right now, and you weren't sure who's going to end up comforting who. You felt your bones being crushed in his impulsive hug. "It isn't true!! You're literally the best person I know!! So don't you dare say that again!!" He put his forearm over his eyes, tears stinging at his eyes. He has to be strong for you, he can't cry now. "Kou-" "I've decided! From today on, you're getting complimented every day!! No excuses!!" He looked very determined.

IWAIZUMI understood the content of your poems very well. And it angered him. Why didn't you tell him this happened?! "Idiot." He let the word escape his lips, clutching the paper in his hands. "You should have told me. I would have protected you." He looked to you. You weren't scared since you knew that your boyfriend was genuinely concerned right now, and that was just his way of expressing it. "Dammit, why do you always insist on keeping your problems to yourself..." he pulled you to his side, looking ahead. "I'll tell you next time..." you looked down to the ground. "You better. Or I'll beat you up." He huffed, but you saw the relief flashing in his eyes. He didn't really show it, but somehow, you could tell his heart sank when he read it.

I'm okay :)

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

"I am sorry I have not texted you since Sunday. Danielle knows about me having an affair and I have been thinking about my options," he texted you, his thumbs typing rapidly on his phone. His message was plain and simple and you always knew that your secret encounters had an expiry date. 

"I understand. You should focus on your marriage first and foremost," you wrote back, trying to sound supportive, but what he responded with surprised you.

"I do, but I also need to see you again" you received, the unexpected message causing your heart to skip a beat and, while you considered your response, another message popped up on your screen.

"I want to fuck you one last time at least," Cillian he wrote before sending you a third message. "Using your yet unexplored hole" he stated boldly in his last text message to you, causing you to drop your phone.

The unexpected demand left you reeling, your heart racing as you wondered how far he would go. It seemed his infatuation with you knew no bounds, his desires escalating beyond anything you could have imagined. And yet, you found yourself wanting to give in to his demands, your curiosity piqued by the thought of taking things even further.

"Okay," you eventually typed back, your fingers trembling as you considered what else to say to him.

"When and where?" you then asked, intrigued by the idea of giving in to his desires.

"Tomorrow night at your house," he replied quickly, his fingers flying across the keys, knowing that both of your parents were on nightshift that day.

"Okay," you texted back again. "How about eight?" you responded quickly. 

You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. Were you ready to take this intimate affair to such a daring level? And yet, there was something undeniably enticing about pushing boundaries with someone like Cillian, who seemed to share your appetite for adventure.

"Eight sounds good. See you tomorrow night," Cillian sent back and your pulse began quickening with anticipation.

***

You spent the rest of the day with your friend Emma, shopping for lingerie and other things and, just as you looked through something nice to wear, you brought up Cillian's request.

"Have you ever had anal sex?" you whispered to her while she unpacked her shopping bags. Your cheeks turned crimson as you said it, suddenly regretting your choice of words.

"Oh god, no, I haven't," she admitted hesitantly, looking at you with wide eyes. "Why?" she then asked, and you began to blush.

"No reason," you stammered while taking a good look at the black lace lingerie you had purchased for tomorrow's encounter.

"Does he want you to try it?" Emma asked, her eyes widening, and you nodded reluctantly, a tender blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Has he done it before?" Emma asked, clearly curious about his experience.

"Not with me," you replied quietly, feeling a mixture of anxiety and excitement about the idea. "But he seems experienced, so I would say yes, maybe with his wife or some other older woman he has been with," you explained, not trying to think about Cillian having sex with anyone else.

"Honestly, I have heard that it hurts, a lot but for a man like him, I would probably just take the pain," Emma laughed, knowing very well how attracted you felt towards Cillian. 

"Well, I guess I can handle some pain," you said, a hint of bravery coloring your tone. "Besides, it's only one last time," you told her, and Emma nodded in agreement, understanding the impulse to explore new territories, especially when fueled by intense feelings towards someone like Cillian.

"One last time, huh?" she asked nonetheless, not believing a word you had just said and you nodded again.

"Yes, one last time. This has to end. It's becoming too dangerous for him," you explained, telling her that his wife knows about him cheating on her, although she did not know who with. 

****

Later that night, when you arrived home, you found your mother had already prepared dinner, setting the table with your favorite foods - steak, potatoes, and fresh vegetables.

The smell of cooking wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble. Your parents usually ate together at night, leaving plenty of leftovers for you. Tonight, however, you didn't have much of an appetite. Instead, you went straight to your room, undressing slowly, savoring the anticipation building within you. You slipped into the black lace lingerie Emma had helped you pick out earlier, admiring your reflection in the mirror. You felt incredibly sexy, your skin flushed with desire.

Tomorrow night, you knew that this new acquisition would come in handy, making you look incredible for your older lover.

As you drifted off to sleep, images of Cillian danced in your dreams, his hair tousled from our encounter, his strong hands possessing you completely.

Your body ached with longing, your desire growing stronger by the minute as, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

You slipped on a robe, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you opened the door to find Cillian standing there, accompanied by his wife Danielle. 

"Come inside," you breathed, beckoning them in, your heart pounding erratically in your chest, thinking that Danielle knew about your affair with her husband. 

"Everything alright?" you then asked, glancing at Danielle, who was standing next to Cillian. She gave you a faint smile, seemingly unfazed by your question. 

"Yeah, everything's fine," she replied casually, turning away and heading towards the kitchen.

You watched her go, a sense of unease settling in your gut. "What brings you here tonight?" you asked Cillian, unable to ignore the elephant in the room.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. 

"I am here to see Frank," he said, unphased and somewhat casually, ignoring your presence. 

"He's asleep. Shall I wake him?" you asked, causing Cillian to nod, his eyes saddened. 

You did as he asked and walked upstairs, waking up Frank and your mother, Sarah and, after about two minutes, they both stormed downstairs where Cillian and Danielle were waiting for them.

"What happened?" Frank asked, panicking, before Cillian spoke. His heart was heavy.

"Aunt Linda passed away today,"

Cillian said, looking somber. His voice cracked slightly, revealing his deep sorrow. Sarah and Frank exchanged worried glances, not knowing how to comfort their guest.

"I am so sorry for your loss Frank, and Cillian of course," Sarah expressed, offering her condolences. Cillian nodded in agreement, appearing sympathetic but also distant.

He had never been as close to his aunt, but Frank lived with her for three years while studying in London at the time and thus Cillian knew his brother would be affected by the news.

Frank took a moment to compose himself, clearing his throat before speaking.

"When is the funeral?" he asked, his voice shivering slightly.

"On Saturday, back in Cork," Cillian replied and Frank nodded.

Cillian understood that his aunt's funeral wouldn't be an easy event, particularly for Frank, who had been closer to her than him. "Will you be okay?" he thus asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Yes, I will be," Frank answered softly, giving Cillian a small smile before continuing. "We'll stay with family, spend some time together, yes?" he asked, causing Cillian to nod.

"Danielle and I will be driving down to Cork on Friday. Max is staying with Danielle's mum and, if you want, you can stay with us at the house in Cobh," Cillian suggested gently, trying to provide comfort to his brother. He knew how much the aunt meant to Frank.

"That would be great, thank you," Frank responded gratefully, reaching out to clasp Cillian's shoulder briefly, their gazes locking for a brief moment.

"Can I bring Sarah and Y/N?" Frank asked, looking over at your mother who nodded and said that she would be taking the weekend off work to support him.

"Thank you, Sarah," Frank smiled, his voice full of gratitude. Turning back to Cillian, he continued, "And, Cillian, thanks letting us stay with you and Danielle."

"Of course," Cillian nodded, his face expressing relief at seeing his brother accepting his help while Danielle glared at you with a sense of unease.

Her jealousy was palpable, her eyes filled with suspicion. You could almost taste the venom dripping from her tongue as she turned her attention back to Cillian, who pretended not to notice.

Did she know, you wondered, sensing her apprehension towards you, or did she simply dislike the fact that her husband was a well sought after man, attracting a wide array of women across different age groups.

Whatever the case, you couldn't help but feel the cold glare she shot at you whenever you were around, and now, as the five of you sat around the dining table discussing arrangements for Aunt Linda's funeral, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Y/N, would you please get us some water?" your mother interrupted your thoughts.

She needed a break from the somber conversation, and you obliged, getting up from your seat to fetch a pitcher of water from the kitchen. You refilled four glasses, handing one to each person sitting around the table. As you served everyone, you noticed Danielle staring at you with an expression that bordered on contempt. Her eyes were hard, her lips pursed tightly, and her hands clenched into fists underneath the table.

"Thank you," she said nonetheless, her voice laced with caution. "For the water, I mean," she added quickly, catching herself before revealing more than she intended.

You nodded silently, turning away from her hostile gaze.

You returned to your seat, feeling the weight of her disapproval pressing heavily upon you.

Cillian looked at his watch and sighed. "It's late," he stated. "We should all get some rest. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow."

"Indeed," agreed Frank, stretching his arms and yawning.

"I will see you out. Thanks for coming all the way to tell us in person," he then went on to say to his brother who gave Frank a tight hug. 

"Any time man," Cillian said before, eventually, leaving you be.

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