#rosemarie’s baby shower

[kirreyv]

better the devil you know… ❤️‍🔥

[lipsyncforyourlife]

[moonchildstyles]

thyme

rosemary part five: harry's tired of hiding. y/n is there to listen

wordcount: 11.4k+

—————

The next time Harry saw morning light, he knew it was real with the way he could actually breathe under the rays. His eyes ached from the amount he had cried the night before, the memory of his nightmare having drained out along with every tear. 

Only a slice of light made it through the tightly drawn shades over the window, the sun bright enough Harry could only begin to assume how long they'd slept in. But, he wasn't going to argue with the hours; after his nightmare had cleared, that was the best sleep he'd had in years. With every blink of his heavy eyes, he gained more and more clarity. 

There was a part of him that wanted to be embarrassed about the way he had acted. The other night when she had tried to comfort him before was nothing compared to the way he had reacted last night. With her tucked carefully under his arm, her breathing even and eyes shuttered, he figured he could quell that awaiting shame for a little while longer. He didn't need to don his facade when she wasn't even awake to witness it. 

Moving cautiously, their shared pillow under his head shifted as he looked to her. That crack in the curtains allowed a splash of light to spill over his chest, leading the ray to fall over her eyes. The divine ribbon of light highlighted the curl of her lashes, the slope of her nose, and the delicate skin of her eyelids. The shadows he had seen under her eyes were now replaced with the reaching lengths of her lashes over her cheekbones. Baby hairs were wild around her face, messed from the way he had reached and grabbed for her the night before. Her hands were still tightly clutching his shirt in her palms, the fabric wrinkled and stretched in her direction.

Looking at her like this, Harry realized he hadn't ever stood a chance, had he? 

This whole thing—his facade, his over-nurtured walls, his control—all turned to dust the second she tapped his shoulder and asked about cookies. He should have known then that things were going to shift, even if he never thought it would turn out like this. 

All because of a gorgeous girl with a ribbon in her hair. 

Seeing her at peace for the first time in days, Harry knew that girl didn't deserve this—this dusty motel, this impromptu road trip, this much deception. 

He couldn't keep doing this to her. She had a life that he'd torn her from, all so he could drag her to different diners and gas stations, dank motels, and a cramped car for hours on end. She had friends who loved her, a job she woke up every morning happy to do, and a sweet little home that deserved to have someone like her live in it. 

It was Harry's mistakes that had caught up with them, and (Y/N) was the one being truly punished by them. She had to sleep in strange places, shower in less than five minutes if she wanted warm water, with questionable food waiting for her at every stop. Her nails even had chips in the paint, something he'd never seen before he tugged her into his mess. 

She didn't deserve this motel or his hands all over her when she didn't even know who she was sharing a bed with. 

He couldn't keep doing this to her. He was running out of money, and (Y/N) deserved to sleep in her own bed and be safe while she did. 

This all had to stop. Today. 

Yesterday's close call told him he wouldn't have to wait around very long for them to find him again. He didn't want (Y/N) to be in the middle of it when that happened. 

There was a plan to be made. Today was the day his past would have to catch his present if he wanted any kind of future. 

—————

"Are we leaving now?" 

(Y/N)'s tired eyes watched as Harry cleaned up the morning's breakfast (it was closer to lunch by the time she woke up, but it was still breakfast in his eyes). While she seemed to actually gain some real rest, her gaze was still tired and a little glassy as she followed him about the motel. 

She hadn't said a single word pertaining to what she had seen the night before, even though he could see those soft bits floating in her irises every time she matched his gaze. 

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her packing up her bag like she did every morning, ready and willing to follow him anywhere. Harry knew he was making the right decision. 

He couldn't be scared anymore. Not for her. 

"We're not leaving today." 

Her hands paused, buried in the bundle of clothes she had packed in her duffle, eyes wide as she looked at him. "What?" 

Taking in a deep breath, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. He dropped his chin into his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. "We're not running anymore." 

(Y/N) stood to the full of her height, awkwardly fiddling with her fingers. A pinch creased the space between her brows. "I-I don't think I understand." 

That lance of guilt found its way to a soft spot inside him, stabbing through every layer. He had kept her so far in the dark, and she still trusted him as if he deserved it. 

She didn't look away when he matched her eye contact, his own gaze unwavering as he spoke, "I don't want to run anymore, (Y/N)." 

"Okay," she drawled, gaze darting down as she tried to process what he was saying, "Um, are we going home then?" 

Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly around his tongue. He had to tell her. He almost wanted to tell her, even. This was the first time the story had ever banged against his chest, fighting to be let out. 

She deserved to know who she slept beside last night. 

"Can I tell you something?" 

(Y/N) stepped towards him on cautious feet, as if she were approaching a wounded animal. She took the spot on the bed beside him, looking at him through furrowed brows and worried eyes. 

"You're scaring me," was her whispered response, hands a nervous knot in her lap. 

A tick appeared in his jaw then. That was what burned him the most; he dreaded the fact that he was more than likely going to hear that from her again soon. 

Nonetheless, he wet his lips before taking in a deep breath, the story unraveling from his tongue. 

"When I was twenty, m'sister started her master's program at a new university, so we moved to the city—me, my mum, and m'sister. My mum wanted to stay close to her, and I didn't really care. I was willing to go wherever they were. But, a few months into her classes, m'sister got this boyfriend." He tried his best not to spit out the title through gritted teeth. Keeping himself in check, Harry settled enough to sit with his eyes on his fisted hands with knitted brows.

"I...He wasn't a good guy, I knew that jus' from the couple of friends I'd made even before he and m'sister got together. It wasn't like I hadn't believed it, but when I saw how he treated m'sister and the way she tried to hide it, I knew it was all true—everything I'd heard." He steeled himself as he felt his throat grow thick. He'd never said any of these things out loud. He was hearing the story for the first time just like she was. "He was... hurting her. Me and my mum didn't know what to do; any time we brought it up to Gemma she'd get really angry, or ignore us. We didn't know how to help. It was really hard for a while.

"But, she had stayed the weekend at his one time, and she came home with these bruises all over her neck. She tried to cover them and hide them with her sweater, but I saw them. I lost it." His hands pulsed in his lap, remembering the way the rage had bubbled in him like it was yesterday. "I had never been so angry in m'life, and Gemma was trying to calm me down but I was too far past any of that. I ended up going to her boyfriend's house that night, telling her and my mum I was seeing a friend. I don't think Gemma believed me but she didn't stop me.

"I don't even know what I thought I was going to do when I got there, honestly. I just wanted him to stop hurting my sister. He answered the door when I got there, and I jus' barged in and started yelling at him. I was telling him that he was going to stop hurting my sister or I was going to do something about it." He shook his head with a humorless laugh spilling from his lips, curls spilling across his forehead. How silly he had been; if only he'd known then what he knew now. "This guy—Trevor—, he laughed at me. I don't blame him now—I was some random kid running into his house threatening him as if I could actually follow through with any of it. But back then, I remember just getting so pissed. I couldn't believe he was going to laugh at me when I was telling him to stop beating m'sister. So, I tried to hit him." 

(Y/N), who had sat silently with her gaze stitched to Harry's face, had let out a soft gasp at his words. Harry's knee began to bounce, his sightless eyes never straying from the outlet in the wall he'd chosen as his focal point. "'S almost funny to think about how quickly he'd knocked me on my ass after that. It was then that I saw that there were a few other guys in the room with us, jus' watching the whole thing. I'd been too mad to see anything other than him when I got there, but now they were all sitting around laughing at me like this whole thing was a joke. I was so embarrassed, I didn't know what to do. I just sat there. 

"I remember he got in my face after that. He told me that if I ever tried to have a problem with him again, it would be very easy for something to happen to m'sister and my mum. I don't even know what I said back, but apparently it was funny enough to get everyone laughing again. I remember him looking around at all his friends, he said he liked me—even if I was a little stupid. The next time he looked at me, he told me that he did have something I could do for him if I really wanted him to leave Gemma alone. 

"I had jumped at the idea. I thought whatever it took, right? I jus' wanted to have m'sister back and my mum to have her daughter. I'd do anything. I must have been especially funny that day, because when I told them that, they all laughed again. He started walking around then, like he was looking for something but didn't really care if he found it or not. He was telling me that he liked me; I had to be brave if I jus' walked into his house and started yelling at him and tried to punch him. Trevor said he had the perfect job for me—if I really wanted to help m'sister anyway."

Harry's mind lingered on the next images the story conjured up. This was the moment everything changed for him. "I don't even know if I said anything to him after that, but I remember him pulling out a gun then, and handing it to me," Harry's throat felt too thick as he tried to swallow, "There was someone that needed to be dealt with, and if I did it for him, he'd stop calling m'sister. I don't think I said anything, but I remember I didn't take it from him right away, just sitting there staring at his hand. I guess I wasn't fast enough because he said if I didn't want to kill for him, he'd jus' get Gemma instead. It didn't make any difference to him." 

From the corner of his eye, he saw (Y/N) go still. "Harry," she whispered, her voice thin and wavering. 

Keeping his eyes forward, Harry shook his head. He couldn't look at her if he wanted to finish this story. He'd crumble if he saw her. 

"I don't really remember what happened after all that well. I think I told him okay, and he showed me how to use the gun, but that was it. They gave me an address and told me to get everything cleaned up by tomorrow morning." Harry's lungs felt heavy as he tried to find enough breath for the words he knew were coming next. That night turned into the first nightmare that followed him for years. He closed his eyes, squeezing his lids shut. "I waited until my mum and Gemma were asleep before I went to the address with the gun. This... The guy, he—uh—he owed m'sister's boyfriend a lot of money, apparently, and he wasn't planning on paying it back anytime soon. They wanted me to kill him because of that. And, I did." 

Behind his closed eyes, Harry saw in too great detail every moment in that dark apartment. His hands shook now just as badly as they did then. His stomach turned at the memory of blood splattering back on his face from the force of the bullet through his skull. He had been standing too close, he knew that now, but he wasn't as good of a shot back then to be much farther away. He forced himself out of that memory, his reality shifting the longer he lingered there. 

"The whole thing was a mess. I don't know how I didn't get caught. The whole time I was jus' thinking about my mum and m'sister, and how I wanted to keep them safe. That was all I was doing; I wasn't brave like Trevor had said. I was jus' stupid, but I didn't have a choice, right?" Shaking his head, Harry moved on. "I went back to Trevor's right after, and I threw up on his lawn twice before anyone realized I was there. When they did, I remember them laughing and asking me if I really did it. I jus' threw up again. By the time I had it together, I remember him telling me that I did a good job—that he was proud of me. He had sent someone after me to make sure everything was taken care of and I didn't tell anyone I shouldn't, and he said I couldn't have done a better job. I think I stopped listening then; I didn't want to be there when he said things like that after I knew what I'd done. 

"I had thought then that that was it. That I would always remember that night and would have to learn to be okay with it, but it was done and now my family was safe. I started thinking about whether or not I could convince them to move away, and that I'd probably need to start looking for a therapist. But," he choked out, feeling far away as he remembered those early plans, "I couldn't leave after that. He said he liked me." 

The heat of (Y/N)'s gaze never wavered from where it was stuck to his profile. He felt sick thinking about what could be hiding in her pupils as she listened to him. He feared to think she saw him for who he really was now: a rotten, disgusting, awful murderer. 

Forging on, Harry swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. "He wanted me to keep working for him. He said that no one would suspect someone like me to be working those nights like that. He wanted to take advantage of that—even if I was messy and still a little stupid, he said. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to, anyway; they had too much on me. Jus' the one job would get me locked up if they wanted—or worse if they didn't want to wait that long to deal with me trying to get away. 

"It wasn't until the second job was done that m'sister stopped coming home with bruises. She started smiling more and talking to my mum again. She said that she broke up with her boyfriend and wanted to be serious about school again. It was like everything was almost normal, again." These were easy times for Harry to recall. He liked to remember his family like that. "There were times I had to get... closer to m'jobs than jus' with a gun. Those days were hard, but I'd come home and they'd be watching a movie or drinking wine together, and I'd tell myself it was worth it. It had to be. That's why I kept doing what Trevor wanted. 

"They had to know there was something going on, but they never asked any questions. Even if they did, it wasn't like I ever gave them anything clear. I jus' told them I was tired and working too much. It was like that for a really long time. I blocked a lot of it out, but it wasn't anything I ever saw a way out of; every plan ended with m'family or me dying, or otherwise getting really hurt. I did what I had to do and... got over it as best I could." 

Looking down at his hands, he flexed the stiff joints. Thin scars marred his skin, creases from years of work that took a toll on him. The inked cross in the pocket between his thumb and forefinger was fading. Harry cataloged every detail of his own hands as he fought to stay focused amid the sickening pit forming in his stomach. 

"A few years ago, there had been a rumor going around that someone had plans to take out the head—Trevor's dad. I had heard that it was a rival, but a few of the guys had said it was coming from someone on the inside—someone who thought they could run the whole thing better. I didn't really believe it, but it was the first time anything like that had gotten any of them talking. There'd been threats before, but this one felt more real than any of them with the way a couple of the guys were even planning on what to do if something changed. 

"It gave me hope, honestly. If it really was true, then there was going to be a night that was so chaotic and everyone's attention would be focused elsewhere enough that no one would notice if I disappeared. So, I started making plans. I saved any kind of money I made, and made arrangements for my mum and sister and tried to get everything taken care of that I could get away with. By the time I heard something was actually happening, I had everything in place for us. Trevor's dad was in the hospital, and probably wasn't going to make it out. 

"It was all chaos after that. Everyone was either trying to find whoever did it—planned it—and everyone else was with Trevor and his dad. No one was keeping track of anything or anyone. It was exactly what I'd hoped for. I went home that day and told my mum and sister that we needed to leave. Something bad had happened and to keep them safe we all needed to leave right then. I didn't have time to tell them what was going on, but I remember I told Gemma it had something to do with Trevor and I knew she knew. She helped me get my mum out after that; packing as much as they could carry and grabbing the essentials. I gave them the cash I'd saved, and they left." 

This was a night Harry had never revisited. Previous jobs of his always showed up in nightmares or ran on a loop when he couldn't sleep, but the last time he saw his family was a place he never allowed his brain to go. He didn't even realized he was tearing up until he felt the pressure behind his eyes and the knot in his throat.

"My mum asked me if I was coming with them, and I had to tell her no," he murmured, "Her and m'sister would be going together, but I had to go somewhere else. It was the only way they'd be safe. I would be the one that Trevor would go after, so if I stayed away then they wouldn't get dragged into it if I was found. I had everything planned out for them: a different car, a place for them to stay, and enough money to last until they figured something else out. It was all taken care of. I—" Harry choked on the lump in his throat. "That was the last time I saw them. I don't know where they are. 

"That was years ago, though. I've been going through different towns since then, jus' hiding. This is the first time I've ever been found." 

Silence fell over the motel room as Harry took in a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he tried to center himself. He felt distant from where he sat on the edge of the bed. It was surreal hearing his story in his own voice instead of living the worst parts of it in dreams every night. It was even worse this way.

A lull passed, the weight of his words a heavy third entity between them. The static of (Y/N)'s presence prickled at his side. His knee kept bouncing, his body restless the longer his story hung in the air. He hadn't considered the aftermath being so quiet; he had imagined shouting, screaming, (Y/N) running away from him. He didn't know what to do with this.

"Harry?" 

He didn't make any move to acknowledge her. 

"Harry? Will you please look at me?" 

Her voice wavered as she pleaded with him. He couldn't ignore her like that, not when he could already picture the tears sparkling in her eyes.

His movements were stiff as he turned to look at her. He wasn't sure what he was going to find when he saw her (his predictions ranged from mortified, to terrified, to a punch to the face in hopes of incapacitating him long enough for her to run), but what he found wasn't on his list of ideas at all. She was looking at him with big, watery eyes, the irises glittering with softened edges. Her features were melted into sympathy-drawn lines, curving and gentle with a wobbly bottom lip and downturned brows. 

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered to him, matching his eye contact just as earnestly as he. 

Listening to her, his brows pinched in the middle. "I-I don't—" His voice cut off, shaking his head as he floundered over his words. 

With a soft touch of her hand grazing over his shoulder, (Y/N) didn't pay his half-hearted denial any mind. "I-I'm so sorry that happened to you," she murmured, her voice as soft and thin as the tears in her eyes, "I can't even imagine, I don't—" 

Tears spilled over the rim of her eyes then, her voice breaking off. Her breathing came in shaky puffs, her hand on his arm tightening until her fingers were curled around his forearm. Sincerity filled her gaze as she looked at him, words failing her despite every soft sorrow in her eyes for him. 

This wasn't the kind of reaction he had been anticipating, not even a little. This worried him more than any other bout of anger or fear he had initially expected. 

"(Y/N)," he started, his voice low to match her own secretive tone despite the lack of others in their room, "I don't think I understand... I did really bad things, (Y/N), don't—I... Don't feel bad for me, yeah?" 

He could see her retaliation form on her cry-swollen lips, but before a single word could broach the air between them, she was cut off by her own whimpering cry. In a moment she had crumpled into him, dismissing the boundaries between their bodies as he was wrapped in a hug with her arms around his neck. 

Harry hesitated, his hands hovering over her back as his breathing stilled. She must really not understand the full breadth of the horrors he committed if she was still willing to touch him after learning his story. It was overwhelming in a lot of ways; this wasn't at all the kind of reaction he had ever thought anyone could have after finding out the kind of man he is, let alone someone like (Y/N). It was confusing. 

After a moment, he settled, reciprocating her hug and being that anchor for her if only for a few more moments until realization dawned. She buried her face in the brunt of his chest, his shirt growing damp from her tears and the heavy puffs of air that fanned out from her lips. Harry held her, petting his hands down her back and brushing her hair from her face the longer she melted against him. 

Soon enough, she pulled away from him, wet eyes glistening with a sniffly nose as she gazed up at him. 

With gentle graze of a hand he hadn't trusted in years, Harry brushed baby hairs out of (Y/N)'s face. She looked at him like she really believed that she should feel sorry for him, console him as if he were one of the many families he tore apart through the many jobs he worked. 

"(Y/N)," he started, voice more gentle than he thought he could manage with a lump in the back of his throat, "I don't think y'understand what I did." 

A fresh batch of tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, the hairs he'd just brushed out of her face now returning. "N-No, Harry, I do," she insisted, gaze genuine between the fluttering of her lashes as she blinked the tears away, "I know you wouldn't have d-done any of that if you'd had a choice—I know that. I-I'm so sorry that they took ad-advantage of you, and that you've been so a-alone." Her voice cut off then, a harsh breath just a hair away from a sob exhaling from her in a shudder. She could only manage a whisper when she recovered, "You don't deserve that." 

She broke down once more, falling into Harry's chest again. He was prepared this time, ready to hold her steady and snuggle her against him. He just hoped the hammering of his heart behind his ribs wouldn't disturb her. 

Harry's breathing came in stiff pulls as he tried to process what she was telling him. While he knew he wouldn't have done the things he did had there been another option for him—had he had the knowledge he has now, he would have done many things differently back then. He knew that, but that wasn't something he ever expected another to understand. He never thought he would have the courage to share his story aloud, let alone earn this kind of response from a listener. 

(Y/N) treated him as if he were the tragedy, not the villain. 

His own eyes began to burn, gaze going watery with the walls of the motel going mushy and melting in with the carpet. He couldn't remember the last time he cried for himself; he'd cried from fear from his nightmares and missing his family, but nothing to mourn the kind of life he could have lead had he known himself better. 

"I—" he started, the lump in his throat blocking his words before they had a chance. Harry's throat bobbed as he tried to swallow around the bundle, voice thick, "I hurt people, (Y/N). I killed them." His breathing caught around the harsh word. He just wanted (Y/N) to know, be clear with the kind of person she was snuggling against. "I ruined families jus' because I wanted to save mine." 

(Y/N) only held him tighter. "I can't blame you," she whispered against his throat, the words melting into his skin, "You were in an impossible situation. It was either you or someone else, and there was never going to be a right choice. I-I can't imagine..." 

Harry didn't say anything back, instead just holding her as she did the same for him. He wanted to listen to the things she was saying, make sense of them in the reality he had accepted as his for years now. But, it felt... unsettling. 

In his own head, in his heart, Harry knew he was put in a situation that no one should ever be in—make a decision that was more than just unfair. But, the longer he sat with himself, especially after finishing those jobs, he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever see it that way. It was easier to believe he was a monster when he figured the rest of the world would agree. He never saw himself as the one to be consoled, that he was too selfish a creature to have earned that kind of experience. 

"I'm a monster, (Y/N)," he murmured into the crown of her head, strands of hair muffling his words. 

"No, you're not," she immediately argued, "You're Harry." 

All those tears that had been funneling into his eyes from deep in his chest somewhere he never allowed to be free finally spilled over. Tracks were made down his cheeks, heating his skin and leaving sticky trails of salt. His breaths came out heavy and warm, uneven with he pulls through his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cried silently into (Y/N)'s hair, allowing her to hold him while he took his turn crumbling.

There were still pounds of guilt and trauma sitting in the bars around his heart, but this was the first time those burdens hadn't felt so heavy. 

Sunshine through the windows could be felt on his back, bleeding through the t-shirt (Y/N) had latched within her grip the longer she held him. 

"Thank you," he sniffled into her hair. 

(Y/N) planted a delicate kiss to the column of his throat in response. 

The shadows in the motel room shifted the longer they sat bundled on the end of the bed, the sun journeying through the sky through the window. Harry didn't know how long they sat together with tangled limbs, leaking eyes, and sniffling noses, but he could have stayed there a lot longer had he been given the chance. He could barely remember the last time he'd had an actual hug before (Y/N) let alone a cuddle for at least an hour. 

But, he couldn't stay there forever. He told her that story for a reason. He couldn't abandon his plan now. 

Harry peeled away from her fist, her embrace around his neck staying firm enough to keep him from going too far as she gazed up at him. His eyes felt raw as he matched her contact. 

"I have to go, (Y/N)," he crooned, voice crackling. 

Her arms looped around his neck shifted with her hands settling firmly on the back of his shoulders. "What? Why?" she panicked some, clinging to him, "No, I don't want you to go, Harry." 

Petting her hair back, he tried to soothe her as best he could despite his clumsy movements. "But, we're not running anymore, remember? I need to deal with this." 

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out as she gazed up at him. "I thought you meant we were going home." 

Shaking his head, Harry stayed gentle with her, "We can't yet—not while they're still looking for us. They all know about home now, and we can't go back when I know they'd follow us. I have to take care of them here. Before we do anything else." 

She looked uneasy now, gaze dropping down the planes of his face. "What do they want from you?" 

"I don't know," he shrugged as much as he could with her still wrapped in his arms, "They might want me to come back, or"—Harry steeled himself at the second prospect—"I might know too much to be left running around everywhere." 

Color drained from (Y/N)'s face as she listened to him. "Y-You think they might kill you?" 

Harry only shushed her, a tender hand on the back of her head guiding her back to her hiding space in the cubby of his neck when he saw fresh tears glimmering in her eyes. He didn't know what to say to something like that; confirming the horror didn't seem like a good idea, but he didn't have it in him to start lying right after coming clean like he has. His fingers threaded through her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp in soothing runs as she whimpered in his neck. 

As much as he might have wanted to stay just where he was, cuddling and hushing her as if her tears were the worst of his problems, but he couldn't push off the inevitable for much longer. 

Using his grip on the back of her neck, Harry pulled her away from her hiding place. He was greeted with swollen lips and red eyes he worried he wouldn't ever see normal again. He hoped against it all that he'd get to see her smile at least once more. 

"I need you to listen really well, okay, (Y/N)?" he asked her, thumb running a circuit of comforting circles on the side of her neck. 

She hesitated before she nodded. "But, I don't want you to leave." 

Despite it all, a genuine smile wriggled its way onto Harry's features. What a sweet thing she was, even in the face of everything he'd laid out for her. The first smile he'd made in days being offered to her. 

Harry kept silent to her protest, instead untangling himself from her hold. He stood to the full of his height, offering her his hand. With her palm pressed against his, she followed suit to stand beside him, their fingers laced together. 

He led them around the bed, inching towards the bedside table. With his free hand and (Y/N) behind him in the narrow channel between the bed and the wall, Harry pulled the drawer open. Inside, the black handgun he had stowed away rattling against the laminate. 

Swallowing, he took the firearm and turned to face her. He schooled his features into something stern and stoic. He wanted to be strong like he knew she needed him to be, especially when she saw what he was offering. 

"I need you to use this if someone comes looking for us," he told her, his voice even and low. 

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at, her immediate. reaction coming in the form of her shaking head. "I-I don't—I'm not—" 

"I know," he cut her off, squeezing her hand in his, "I want this to be a last resort." Walking her back away from the side table, her brought her to the end of the bed, his back facing the window in case anyone decided to peek through the sliver between the curtains. "Hide first," he explained, "And, I don't want y'answering the door for anyone after I leave. Even if it's me, I have a key. Don't let me in even if I ask, I should be able to let myself in. Don't answer the door for anyone, especially if y'don't recognize the who's on the other side. Jus' hide, okay? Y'can hide in the bathroom if y'want, but if anyone gets in and tries to do anything to you, I need y'to use this and protect yourself." 

(Y/N) could have gone cold the way she was frozen still in front of him; if not for the heat of her hand in his, he would have assumed as much. She stared at the gun he was offering towards her as if a gift, the weapon sitting in his hand between them. 

"Can I show y'how to use it?" he asked her, gently trying to ease her into the non-option she had of protecting herself.

"Harry..." 

"I know," he said, "Please, (Y/N). I jus' need to be able to know that I won't be leaving y'to get hurt without a chance to protect yourself." 

Looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, he could see her resolve crumble away piece by piece. He hated to think about her having to use something like this as much as he was sure she did, but that didn't change the fact that someone was looking for her and wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if given the chance. 

"Okay," she peeped out, her hand in his slowly loosening as she grabbed for the gun. 

Her grip was loose and shaky as Harry tried to show her the basics. With the barrel aimed at the ground, he showed her how to switch the safety, something he only mimed as he didn't want to scare her more. He encouraged her to wrap both hands around the grip, finger curling around the trigger. 

"It's heavy," she said, her voice a quiet whimper as her hands continued to shake. 

"I know," he told her, adjusting her hold to ensure the recoil didn't harm her any more than a bone's rattle. If she had to use it, anyway. 

Silence settled over them as he ensured she would be as safe as she could be while he was gone.

"Both hands, okay?" he told her once more, her grip steadying the longer he allowed her to get used to the weight. "Every time y'pick it up, the barrel needs to be facing away from you. Even if the safety's on, I don't want y'aiming it anywhere near yourself."

"Okay," she said, another repetition of the small word through his instructions. She swallowed, her features twisted into something too scared for Harry's heart to not break over. "This is a last resort right? I-In case of an emergency." 

Harry's jaw ticked, hearing the waver in her voice. He hated knowing he was the reason she was preparing for an emergency like this. "Only in case of emergency, yeah." 

Taking the firearm out of her hands, he left it on the bed to (Y/N)'s relief. She wiped her hands off on her pants as he rifled through his duffle bag, finding the wad of cash he'd been using to fund their run. Taking the bundle to her, he pushed it into her empty hands. 

Before she could have a chance to shoot off a round of questions, Harry steeled himself. "(Y/N) look at me for a second." 

That tremor of fear she'd gained after dealing with the gun remained as she looked up at him with watery eyes. 

Shoving the cash into her hand, Harry ensured she was listening before he spoke. "If 'm not back by the morning, I need y'to leave. 'M going to leave the car for you, and you're going to take all of the money I have left, okay? Jus' get home. Don't wait for me or try to look for me, only worry about getting back home." 

Before he could even finish speaking, (Y/N) was shaking her head, protests on the tip of her tongue. "I'm not—" 

"Yes, you are," he insisted, unwilling to hear her argument, "I promised y'when we left that y'would make it home and be safe. This is the only way I can make sure I can keep that promise, even if 'm not the one taking y'home." When (Y/N) began to push against his hand with the money, he stayed solid where he stood, matching her eyes with unwavering contact. "I don't want to argue with you on this, (Y/N). This is final." 

Her gaze softened, matching the refractions in the tears pearling on her waterline. "Okay," she peeped after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper. 

With the bills wadded in her hand, Harry disregarded the space between them as he pulled her into a hug. She melted into his hold that was becoming familiar, burrowing her face into his neck with her hands around his middle. He curled himself around her, the tip of his nose buried in the hair on the top of her head, his eyes falling closed as he pulled in a deep breath. His arms around her pulsed, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. 

"'M sorry, (Y/N)," he murmured, lips brushing the crown of her head, "'M sorry I got y'involved in this." 

(Y/N) shook her head, "It's not your fault." 

While Harry couldn't accept that answer, he gave his own in the form of a kiss pressed to the top of her head. "I need to go now, okay?" he told her, voice muffled in her hair. 

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice small to match his. 

"Not too far, I don't think, since I want to leave y'the car," he said, trying to stitch together the details of his plan after such a vulnerable start to his day. 

Drawing away, she looked up at him with questioning eyes. "You think they'll find you? How?" 

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "'M sure they already have an idea of where 'm hiding." 

It was clear (Y/N) didn't enjoy his answer, but she didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she followed him quietly as he readied himself to meet his fate. While it wasn't a new feeling for him—accepting the fact that this outing might be his last—it was different knowing that someone would be waiting for him, knowing exactly what happened if he didn't make it back. It felt a lot more final this way. An omen—one he couldn't decide was good or bad. 

With everything ready, and a plan to grab the gun he had packed in the car, Harry moved towards the door. (Y/N) stopped him with a soft hand on his biceps.

"I'll see you tonight, right?" Her eyes were pleading as she looked up at him. 

"I'll try m'best." His gaze lingered on her. She still looked at him with softened eyes and wonderous gaze despite all the ugly secrets she now knew about him. His heart ached in his chest. "Thank you, (Y/N)." 

He placed his hand on her's where it was resting on his arm. He curled his fingers around her own, giving her a small squeeze before he peeled her touch away. 

All the way out the door, he could feel her eyes on him. He couldn't look back.

—————

(Y/N)'s legs felt cramped, the last six hours of having been curled up in the bathtub now showing in her aching muscles. Despite that, she didn't even think about stretching out, keeping herself bundled with her legs against her chest and arms looped around her shins. 

The sun had gone down hours ago, wiping away the final slice of light that was draped through the main room. The gun Harry had given her laid untouched, safety clicked, at her feet. Her breathing was the only sound in the silent room. 

Every time she could hear a set of feet trudging past the front door, her ears perked, trying to find any evidence that it might be Harry. Every time she came up with the opposite answer, her heart dropped an inch more. 

As much as she wanted to hear someone familiar, for a pair of those heavy footsteps to stop in front of her door, a sense of panic filled her whenever they drew too close. But, she still felt hopeless every time they moved on without a lingering second. She didn't want to be alone, but she feared what having the opposite would mean if she wished a little too hard. 

The otherwise silent room left her too much room to think about what Harry had told her today. 

She knew he didn't think of his story as much of a tragedy as it was. She didn't think he even realized just how terribly he was taken advantage of and convinced he had no choice but the most evil one. 

He was a victim, too. 

(Y/N) knew Harry. Despite all the walls he presented and maintained, she'd gotten glimpses as to who he was at his core through these last months and especially this past week. There was always an assumption that he had a few secrets hiding behind his barricades, but she never would have guessed them to be something of this nature. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to carry something like that around, no one there to support him.

There was no way to comprehend what it would feel like to be in Harry's shoes. Doing everything on his own for so long before running into her, allowing a small smidge of himself to show to her, only for them to land in dirty motels with tear-stains on a floral bedspread. 

Harry thought he was a monster, but (Y/N) could only consider him brave. He was the strongest person she knew.

There would be no way he wouldn't return to her, then, right? He was the strongest, smartest, most capable person she knew. Their teary cuddling couldn't be the last time she saw him. Right? 

Another set of voices—three different ones, this time—interrupted (Y/N)'s spiraling. Her hands clenched around her knees, her breathing pausing as she tried to listen as best she could through both the cracked bathroom door and the bolted room door. 

Soon enough, the volume peaks. They were right outside the door. (Y/N) could almost clearly make out the words through the thin walls. 

A beat later, not a second of lag, the voices began to retreat, the volume lowering until nothing but muffles were heard. They'd walked past. It wasn't Harry, none of them. 

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) knew she had to believe that Harry would come back. She couldn't see herself leaving here without him, even if time was something they were running out of. 

But, he promised her. He promised her he'd make sure she was safe. 

She knew Harry, and he wouldn't break his promises.

That was how she knew he would come back to her. 

—————

Despite the sore in her muscles and the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, (Y/N) went stiff when she heard the doorknob jiggle. Not once in the hours since Harry left had anyone even lingered outside the door, let alone try to breach the lock. Her breathing stuck in her throat when the incessant noise continued. In lethargic movements, her hands held a tremor as she reached for the gun at her feet. 

She swore her heart stopped when the jiggling stopped, a muffled curse being heard from the other side of the door. The voice sounded familiar—the timbre, the tone, everything sounding like the one person she'd been waiting for. (Y/N) wanted to run to the door and let him in, her instincts pushing her to abandon post. But, she had to remember: Harry had a key, he'd let himself in. 

Though, a creeping argument in the back of her mind started, what if he lost his key? What if he was hurt, bleeding and aching for her help? What if he couldn't use his key and she was going to leave him to die out there all because of a flimsy rule he'd made before walking into battle? 

Her hands shook that much harder, her loose grip on the gun wavering. 

Over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears, (Y/N) heard the jamb give away, the sticky lock finally opening. The door was pushed open, whiny hinges creaking. She heard the door be closed after a set of heavy footsteps made their way into the motel, the lock being bolted into place once more. Only the sound of labored breathing replaced the sudden racket in the silent room. 

Please be Harry, please be Harry, please be Harry.

She tried to steady her hand on the firearm the longer the silence dragged on. 

"(Y/N)? Are you still here, love?" 

Tears sprung into (Y/N)'s eyes at that voice, relief flooding her system. She let go of the gun at her feet though her hands still shook as she stayed stuck in her pose in the bathtub. 

"Harry?" 

Those heavy footsteps that introduced him to the motel started again, the pace much faster as he crossed the room to her hiding spot. 

The second he appeared in the doorway, (Y/N) knew she was supposed to be scared of him. She was supposed to be at least wary of the swelling bruises beginning to form on his face, fingerprints denting the skin of his neck. Stray scratches littered his arms, specks of blood marring his skin. His hair was a mess, strands sticking at odd angles. The worst of it was blood that was clearly not his, staining his shirt, splatters reaching as far as his cheeks. The red looked especially vivid beside the green of his wild eyes and the creamy tone of his skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his shoulders seeming wider in the doorway with his fists clenched at his sides. 

But, even with every cue telling her she should keep cowering away from him, her heart still lurched in her chest at the sight. Under all the mess and core, that was her Harry. She knew him, she trusted him, and he came back to her. How could she be scared of that?

Following the bruising beats of her heart, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she was leaping out of her hiding place. Disregarding the stiff set of her muscles and the weapon left in the tub, she jumped through the bathroom before landing in his arms. 

"Harry!" she bubbled, clinging to him in a tight hug. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, with her arms around his neck with her cheek pressed to his. "Oh my god, you're okay, you're okay, Harry." 

Her tongue felt like mush in her mouth the way she could barely form a coherent thought before she was dissolving to babbles. She didn't even realize she was crying until she could taste the salt of her tears. At least that explained the sticky lump in the back of her throat, too heavy to talk around. 

Harry held her just as tightly, a strong arm supporting her underneath her thighs while the other roped around her waist. She could feel every breath he made, every ripple of his muscles; she even thought she could feel the thump of his heart. 

Pulling away from his neck, (Y/N) reared back just enough to see his face though she didn't go too far. Shifting her hold on him, she pushed his hair out of his face, his features watery and distorted through her tears. Smears of blood stained her palms, but (Y/N) didn't care; she could be grossed over the blood later, right now all she could see was Harry. Everything she had hoped for, for the last handful of hours had actually come true, how could she focus on anything else?

Eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom, Harry looked up at her reverently. "'M here, (Y/N)," he murmured to her, voice broken. The longer he looked at her, that glimmer in his eyes rose until it was a shimmer of overfilled tears. "God, (Y/N)." 

Holding his cheeks in her palm, she nodded her head, understanding the overwhelming feeling she was sure he felt bloom in his chest. "What happened?" she whispered, voice thin.

Shaking his head, those same curls she had brushed out of his face fell over his forehead once more. Some strands were darkened with blood. "'S over," he told her, his own tone small to match her own, "'M out. They aren't going to bother me anymore. 'S really over." 

(Y/N) swallowed. "H-How?" 

His jaw tensed under her hands. Another shake of his head was granted. "I-I don't want to—I can't talk about that." With the way his eyes darted from her own, falling down her features in a glazed trail, she knew this wasn't something to push him on. "B-But 's done—(Y/N), 's over." 

Something in him snapped then, as if he heard himself for the first time. Harry crumbled then, his features twisting and flushing as rivers of tears fell from his eyes. He cried the way he did after his nightmares—heavy and nonstop. 

Harry clutched her to his body as he sobbed into her neck, having shielded himself in her hair once his breath started shuddering in his lungs. He murmured over and over It's over, it's over, it's over, into her skin, the mantra slicking her skin like the tears that ran down his cheeks. (Y/N) held him even as his grip gave out, sliding down his body until she was planted flat on her feet, her fingers running a soothing circuit through his dirty hair. 

Pressing her lips to the side of his head, (Y/N) felt her own voice thin as she spoke, "You did it, Harry. You're done." 

His arms around her pulsed, her body flush against his with his fingertips denting into her back from how tightly he held her. Hesitantly peeling himself away from where he was cuddled into her neck, he gazed at her with bright green eyes, bloodshot and tired. 

"I-I want to shower," he murmured to her, the first thing he managed to utter other than his disbelieved mantra. 

A gentle smile touched at (Y/N)'s cheeks, a breathless laugh exhaling through her nose, "Yeah?" When Harry nodded his head, his tears slowing though he didn't share in her amusement, she brushed her hand through his curls once more before beginning to separate from his hold. "Okay, just let me... I left your gun in the tub, then I lea—" 

The second she tried to shake off his grip and take her own touch away, Harry resisted with a shake of his head and his hold tightening. His arms were a rope around her waist, tying her to him. "No, no, no," he bubbled, desperation sinking into his eyes, "I-I don't want to be alone. Don't leave." 

(Y/N) paused where she stood, her eyes matching his watery gaze. His irises swam, softened and scarred as if she left the room, he would never see her again. She couldn't say no to him. 

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I-I can stay, it's okay," she soothed him, "Did you—You want me to get in with you or stay in the bathroom?" 

As much as it felt odd to ask if he wanted her to shower with him despite the fact they'd never been more intimate than a few kisses over a week ago, (Y/N) felt like there were no longer lines between them given their circumstances. The things Harry shared with her and the time she spent adhered to his side were more intimate than sex. 

Nodding his head sent a few curls she had pushed back back over his forehead, some strands sticky and darker than the rest. "Get in with me," he rushed out, looking entirely too fragile for someone who just defended himself against any number of people out to get him, "Y'can say no, I-I jus' need you. Y-You make me feel okay, and-and—" 

She cut him off with a nod of her own head, her hand landing on his shoulder with a light squeeze to the cuff. It hurt seeing him try to explain himself when he didn't even seem to have fully processed the last day. "Okay, okay, I'll get in with you," she told him, eyes wide and matching his so he stayed with her, "I just... I don't want anything else happening." 

It was almost frantic the way he was quick to reject her thinking. His hands on her back pressed her closer to him. "Of course not. I jus'... I need you." 

After Harry let her break away from him, he still stayed close to her as clothing began to be dropped on the floor. Despite the static of his presence behind her and spying his bloody clothing from the corner of her eye, she didn't feel the warmth of his gaze on her skin as more and more was revealed. Even in the small space, he kept his back to her, eyes kept to himself even as his hands shook, aching to have the comfort of her touch. 

Down to her underwear, she saw Harry step into the bathtub first, the gun being plucked out of the basin and left on the countertop. From her peripheral, she saw him hesitate, as if he were afraid to both touch and let go of the firearm. Moments later, he stepped into the tub, twisting the temperature knobs with the kitschy mermaid curtain pulled closed. 

Letting out a breath, (Y/N) dropped the remainder of her clothing to the floor. While she was sure Harry had too much on his mind to be worrying about the appearance of her body, there was still something that felt unsettled knowing that this would be the first time he saw her naked. Before they'd even shared a handful of kisses, he was going to see her bare. If not for the fragile air around them, (Y/N) would have thought it was funny. 

Tugging back the curtain just enough, she stepped into the tub behind Harry. His back faced her as he wet his hair under the cold water, neither having the patience to wait for the stream to heat up like normal. More tattoos were revealed to her now that his arms were covered, along with scars that dotted his back she wished she didn't have to know about. 

At the sound of her joining him, Harry looked over his shoulder at her, hair dripping wet with pink tinted drops hitting the tub. His gaze didn't stray from her face as his eyes softened that much more just before he turned around to reach for her. He didn't pay any attention to her bare skin, every curve and dip being forgotten in favor of the comfort her touch could offer. 

His hands cupped the soft of her hips as he tugged her to his chest, fingertips denting the soft flesh. His skin was cold as he rested his forehead on hers, her body flush against his while the water showered from overhead. (Y/N)'s eyes fell to his chest, watching the way the water swirled the rusty drain in a cyclone of blood-stained water. Spots across his body showed more injuries than she previously noticed in the form of bruises and angry slashes. 

Harry didn't pay any of the pain he may have felt any mind, instead letting his eyes fall closed as he breathed her in. His hands on her hips shifted to loop around her waist just the way they had been before they stepped into the shower. His muscles relaxed further when the water began to warm, the spray beginning to fill the bathroom with steam. 

This felt more intimate than sex even to (Y/N). She had never just been held like this, with no implication of something more coming. 

He held her under the warm water as his breathing evened into steady paces, (Y/N) running her hands through his hair and his shoulders. She couldn't reach much of him with the way Harry held her, but she washed him as gently as she could with the places she could reach, allowing him to calm in her hold. Every now and then, his features twisted into something painful, silent tears falling from his eyes. She worried that she might be hurting him, but when he only held her tighter, she figured he had other things on his mind in those moments. 

Despite those moments when his fragility peeked out higher, this was the most calm she had ever seen him. Water ran down his body in cleaning rivers, taking away every bit of armor he had donned for the last however many years, leaving all of the soft bits behind. (Y/N) was used to see him stoic, clean from any kind of messy feeling or interaction, but that didn't mean she didn't still pick up on his restless hands, anxious gaze, or the constant need he seemed to have to be aware of everything at all times. She'd never seen him allow his brain to turn off like he was now. She hoped the only thing he felt now was relief. 

She was sure he was going to find a way to make this all his fault, that he should never be forgiven for the things he was forced to do today, but, if even for the next twenty minutes, she hoped he'd take this relief and comfort; she hoped he'd realized just how much he deserved to be treated gently. 

After the bathroom had sufficiently been filled with steam, the humidity clinging to every surface despite the still open bathroom door, (Y/N) asked, "Is it alright if I wash your hair?" Her fingers glided over his shoulders, touch as tender as her whispered voice. 

Harry hummed a cracked confirmation, his features giving that tell-tale twist as a slew of tears dripped down his cheeks. "Thank you," he breathed. 

Blinking his eyes open, Harry watched as she reached for one of the bottles he'd left on the ledge from his morning shower. It was an odd angle she had to work with, seeing as he didn't let her move very far away, out she'd work with it if this was all he wanted to feel more at ease. 

Ducking his head, he allowed her to lather his strands in the off-brand apple scented shampoo he'd purchased on sale a month prior. Suds formed between the waves, bright and sparkling against the dark color. Some bubbles popped up a pink hue, but (Y/N) didn't try to focus on what tinted them. 

Instead, she scratched her nails soothingly along his scalp, letting him sink into her that much more. "I love your hair, Harry," she murmured to him, words a secret only for him to hear. 

A watery voice piped up over the beating of the shower, "Yeah?" 

With a small smile touching the corner of her lips. He was cute like these, even if the circumstances were devastating. "Mhm," she hummed, "Your curls are perfect, especially since they've gotten longer. And, the color's very pretty with your eyes." 

His breathing labored just that much more as he listened to her, his grip on her tightening with her chest flush against his. "Me and my mum have the same eyes," is all he shared with her, his voice delicate enough to be blown away with the steam. 

"Really?" (Y/N) pushed, hoping he'd talk more about his family. She hoped the memory of them would comfort him. 

"Mhm," his hum came out on the whinier side, "Me, her, and m'sister." 

"I remember that picture you had" she told him, rinsing her hands of the suds before urging him towards the spray, "You're all very beautiful." 

Harry fell silent, allowing the water to wash away the blood that had stuck in his strands. The hot water had pushed a deeper flush onto his cheeks, making his eyes that much more green even if they did look a bit broken. 

(Y/N) didn't push him for more as she reached for his conditioner in a matching scent. He kept his grip tight on her as she massaged the cream through his curls, using this as more of an excuse to give him tender care as opposed to clean him. 

"What did your sister get her degrees in?" (Y/N) asked, thinking of the graduation picture he had displayed in his home. The only piece of decor he had. 

His gaze softened some as he thought about his family. "She did a lot with English and psychology," he started, "She wanted to be a writer at first, but before we left, I remember she had talked about wanting to do something to help people. She started looking into things for—um—mental health and people who had gone through trauma. I-I don't know what she's doing now, though." 

Listening, (Y/N)'s lips thinned. She didn't bother trying to push anymore after his last statement. She didn't want him focusing on the fact he didn't know what his family was doing, or even where in the world they were. 

Pushing him to rinse once more, Harry stepped out of the spray free of any blood on his body with his injuries clean and muscles softened under the warm water. His body didn't seem so heavy now, only tired. 

"Feel clean?" she asked, her own hair dripping wet against her back though she had no plans to wash the locks. 

He gave her a quiet nod, a sniffle scrunching his nose. 

For the first time since stepping into the shower, Harry's gaze strayed from the decent area of her face and the wall behind her, dropping down her body. She wasn't sure what he saw that had him scrunching his brows and his eyes turning sad once more. 

Before she could say much to distract him, Harry's hands began to shake on her back. "I don't deserve to touch you," he whispered, voice just small enough so it wouldn't break under the weight of his feelings, "Not after what I've done." 

His expression shifted with watery eyes and downturned lips. A cinch appeared between his brows. His lungs rattled in his chest though he didn't make any move to keep his hands off of her. 

Evening her breathing, (Y/N) did her best to keep a cap on her own feelings. She wanted Harry to feel like he could break down, be honest about his feelings, without worrying about her. She knew that if he cried any, he would take it as validation to his words, or push whatever he felt to the side in favor of doting over her. 

"Don't say that, Harry," she argued gently, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She used the leverage of her hold to pull him down, their gazes matching. "You did what you had to do to protect yourself. Today, and every other day." 

Shaking his head, Harry's bottom lip wobbled with his tears mixing in with the water dripping down his face. "I-I—Don't—I...," he cut himself off with a deep breath being sucked in, his eyes squeezing closed as he continued, "'M disgusting—I don't deserve to touch you." 

Sweeping in a deep breath (Y/N) did her best to stay composed as she pulled his arms from the loop they made around her body. Blinking his eyes open, he looked defeated as if he really believed he had convinced her of his delusion and this was the punishment. Instead, (Y/N) pulled his palms to her face, her own hands guiding him. She held him steady as she puckered her lips and pressed kisses to his palms, the tip of her nose skimming his fingers as she spied him through the gaps. Finishing, she pressed them flat against her cheeks, her guiding hands staying atop to keep him from leaving her. 

"I love your hands," she told him, allowing him to catch the view of her willingly holding them to her skin, "They took care of me and kept me safe as much as you did. Be nice." 

A fresh batch of tears began to flood out of his eyes. Harry didn't say anything as he rested his forehead on hers. His hands on her skin turned solid on their own accord as he clung to her.

They stayed under the spray long enough for the water to run cold, clinging to one another.

—————

thyme represents courage; facing the past

eeeeep only one part left and now you know all the things about him!!! thank you so much for sticking w me for this! so sorry fi theres any mistakes and if you have any ideas or requests or anything please send them in!

[daddy-suguru]

satoru gojo + lactation kink if its possible established relationship<3

anonymous- asked a question!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❥ explicit, married, lactation kink, daddy/mama title, sucking on your nipples, satoru wants another baby, hints at breeding

    The three of you just got out of the shower with little baby Fey forty minutes ago. Causing the smell of Satoru’s rosemary with a slight hint of mint soap to be stronger. And you glance over at the screen showing Fey asleep in her crib.

   Satoru is quick to get your attention back onto him, by blowing on your wet nipple. And as you open your mouth to whine he sticks two of his thick fingers into your mouth muffling your moans. Satoru softly coos, 

   “Can’t have you waking up baby. Not when Daddy needs some alone time with his beautiful mama.” While he cups the swell of your breasts, with his other large hand.

   Softly squeezing out some warm milk, that is trickling quickly down the curve of your breast. From where he kneels in between your spread legs, Satoru is tall enough he has to bend over to lick the milk.

   Following the trail up to your nipple, making you shiver. While you whine, his fingers muffling the sounds. As he presses down on your tongue with both of his fingers. So you wrap your lips around him, and suck.

   Your nipple is cold and hard from Satoru sucking on it previously. Which makes the wet warmth of his tongue flicking your nipple even more pleasurable. As the heat has you melting underneath Satoru, while the tingling pleasure pools between your legs.

   Satoru pulls away with a soft pop, a bit of milk covering his bottom lip. He was always so messy, letting his mouth fill up before he swallows.

   Smiling at you Satoru moves his head to the other breast, which he soft massaging causes a few drops of milk to drip from your breast. He licks the milk off his bottom lip, and then says,

   “I want to stuff my cum deep in your pretty pussy till your belly swells up again. Want to make another baby with you, you look so beautiful with your breasts a swelling full of milk and my baby growing inside of you sweet mama.”

[stalkerofthegods]

Lady Hestia Deep Dive

Lady Hestia is a wonderful goddess, she is always there for everyone, I adore Lady Hestia, I do not worship her personally but I know well that she is Amazing.

Herbs • Chaste trees, Rosemary, Parsley, Basil, Sorrel, vanilla, Cinnamon, coriander, Marjoram, Mint, Lemon balm, cloves, clary sage, Allspice, Angelica, Coriander, poppy seed, chamomile, Angelica, Bay, garlic, mint, peppermint, pepper, marjoram, The lavender, the chaste tree, the datura, the California poppy, the goldenrod, the hollyhock, the yarrow, the purple coneflower, all white flowers, Lavender, White roses, angel’s trumpet, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow, pine, Wildflowers & sunflowers, raspberry leaves, sage, pearly everlasting, yellow rose

Animals• pigs, donkeys, one-year-old cows, a Crane. 

Zodiac & scared number  • unknown, I cannot find out what month she was born on, or the day. But I would associate numbers 1, and 6 because she is the oldest and the youngest (and etc, but who even likes my rambles?)

Colors •Gold, yellow, orange, red,  White, Gold, Lavender, light purple, black, silver, and dark red

Crystal•Carnelian, Garnet, Goldstone, Calcite, Topaz, garnet, amethyst, lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, Vanadinite, Quartz, gold, silver, and brass, Amber colored crystals, citrine, clear quartz, sunstone.

Symbols• a kettle, the hearth (fireplace), torch, candle

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• friendship bracelets 

Diety of• the virgin goddess of the home and hearth fire, cooking of meals, and sacrificial food for feasts, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state, and sacrificial flame

Patron of where the families ate and congregated, hospitality, family.

Offerings• give her prayer beads that remind you of her that are not Christian (or make one, which is better), wooden beads, Oil Lamps, Seven Day Candles (because they burn for 7 days), LED Candles, A Candle that reminds you of home, White or red candles, Apple juice, cider, Wine, Baked goods, keys to the home (preferably not stolen(looking at Hermes devotees))), Small kitchen antiques/objects,  pottery/cups/bowls, artwork of homey things, a meal, your favorite things, poetry, books, items you made, fall-themed stuff, spring-themed stuff, First/last foods & libations from a meal, Candles/flame, Honey, Pork, Cakes or Cookies made to look like one of Her symbols,), Keeping a candle/hearth fire or lamp constantly burning, Pictures of homes you want to live in one day, pictures of homes you have lived in, Pictures of architecture that you like, Teacups, teaspoons, tea towels, Childhood memories (ex- stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos), Homegrown herbs, Toys or art of donkeys and pigs, Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree, Tea light candles (real or fake), Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her, Your favorite books, Stories you have written, Art of flames, fire, candles, Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath (You can ask Her to bless them then use them she probably won't say no), Beeswax products, honey, olive oil, pumpkin pie 

Devotional• Pick up rubbish in communal areas, Offer the first or last bites/portions of food your to her, Cooking/baking for yourself or others, Having a candle lit whenever possible (electric or real), playing a video of a fire place, Volunteerring at homeless or DV shelters, donating to homeless or DV shelters,  Setting healthy boundaries with friends and family, reading about Tea/Coffee magick, Getting involved with your local community, Advocating for policies you believe will better the community Allowing yourself to rest,  Do a chore you've been putting off for a long time, organize to hang out with some loved ones, Veil or bind your hair, Wear something red or orange, Make a devotional playlist for her, make a Pinterest board or a mood board for her, Learn about kitchen witchery, Cook a meal in her name, Clean the House, Put together a puzzle, Eat popcorn and watch a movie, do Knitting, read about knitting, donate yarn and

knitting supply’s, prepare food for family, make the table before eating, garden, Harvest berries, pick flowers, Donate to food charity/drives, Support people who lost their homes to natural disasters, Welcoming others into your home, Keeping the peace (especially in the home), Donations of time & money to Habitat for Humanity, Do little (or big) acts of kindness, If you have a fireplace light it for Her or build Her altar around it, Meditate next to a fire, Read poetry or a book, play a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cooks, Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy, Take a cooking or baking class, Collect recipes and keep a recipe book, Host celebrations at your home, Remember your ancestors and learn more about them, Spend time with your pets, Take care of yourself and your mental and physical health (Your body is a home for you),  Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, Pray to Her( ex- for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence), help to start/tending to the hearth, work on having strong family bonds, Open your curtains and let the sunlight warm the room, Make a potful of tea and keep it in a large thermos, Watch movies that make you feel nostalgic and cozy, Say goodnight and good morning to her, Get an electric blanket and feel the warmth connect you to her, Cuddle a stuffed animal, Make a blog/journal filled with cozy homely things, Keep a few locally baked goodies nearby for when you need them, String up fairy lights and use them as your only light source, Whisper prayers and devotional pieces before you go to sleep, Use a Himalayan salt lamp to connect to feeling of a fire, Invest in little things (ex- pillowcases, photos, curtains) that make your room feel welcoming and peaceful, Make a little bottle filled with herbs and crystals and other things that remind you of her, Listen to music that makes your soul happy and your heart content, Take care of yourself (ex- Brush your hair, use a wet cloth on your face), Keep a tealight on you, Clean one small area of your house, Savor a hot drink, Do small, unnoticed acts of kindness, Always greet animals (both big and small), Do anything by candlelight,  Wear colors you associate with her, Practice your patience (both external and internal), Be a listening ear or shoulder to cry on for those who need it, Make compromises when it is healthiest for both parties, always have a lighter or matches, Listen to music that reminds you of her, Spend time tending to your body, Leave a big tip the next time you have a chance, Practice kindness in all areas of your life (including driving), Take a hot bath or shower with no time limit, Decorate a space, Build a fire, Compliment people (both strangers and loloved ones), Donate something (ex-clothes, money, or your time), Look at photos and embrace the happy nostalgia, Wear makeup or jewelry that reminds you of her, Wake up early to see the sunrise - or watch the sunset, Watch/read about acts of kindness to be inspired, wear prayer beads that are for her, go to a high school reunion, do a family reunion, do budgeting in her honor, do meal planning, set healthy boundaries, have a household notebook, do seasonal cleaning, try home remedies,As you light your gas stove, say a prayer to Hestia, Spend quiet quality time at home, Gather your family (including your chosen family) for a festive candlelit meal, Commit to spending more time with children and old people.

Ephithets•Äídios - eternal, Aïdius – See Äídios., Basileia - See Vasíleia, Bulaea - See Voulaia., Chloömorphus – See Khlöómorphos, Daughter of lovely-haired Rǽa, Khlöómorphos - verdan, Polýmorphos - multi-formed, Polyolbus – See Polýolvos, Polýolvos - rich in blessings, Potheinotáti - beloved, Prutaneia – See Prytaneia, Prytanei, Vasíleia - queen, Voulaia - of the council, Prytaneia -”of the Prytanis.” 

Equivalents• Vesta (Roman), loki (Norse), Brigid (Celtic), Hathor (Egyptian)

Signs they are reaching out• having a strong urge to Vail in her honor, seeing her animals and symbols in your dreams, and seeing her imagery a lot, everything at home suddenly going well.

Vows/omans• that she “would be a maiden all her days”

Morals• morally light/pure

Courting• None 

Past lovers/crushes• None

Personality• She avoids drama, and is generous, but her temper is volcanic in nature, she is slow to anger, but when she gets angry her rage is a force of nature. She is modest, tranquil, and industrious

Home• Mount Olympus 

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Fact• Historically she is supposed to be the first deity offered to in a ritual due to being the goddess of fire, she's the oldest Olympian, She is spat out last by Kronos so she is also the youngest, she shares her seat with Diyonisus, she did not give it up, she receives a share of every sacrifice/prayer to the gods, and she is commonly seen alongside with Hermes, I would recommend putting their alters close together.

Element• fire 

Curses• a bad family life, food being burnt, having not enough food, being turned away at restaurants, being homeless, your house catching on fire 

Blessings• all domestic happiness and blessings

Roots• Greek mythology….and she was raised in her father's stomach, and at the first years of theogony era.

Friends• all of the gods, but most notably Hermes, but is not friends with Priapus, she dislikes him (he tried to rape her.) 

Parentage• Cronus and Rhea

Siblings• Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, Demeter, Hera 

Pet• she has no pets.

Children • she has no children.

Appearance in astral or gen• she was typically represented wearing a veil and robe. In some images, she held a flowering branch or kettle as well.

Festivals • None, at every feast and meal a liberation was made to her name first and last, but I associate Thanksgiving with her, but her Roman counter part Vesta has 1-15 June of each year, an then another festival celebrated on 8-9 July.  Hestia is also mentioned on 8 June. But a neo-pagan sets aside 26 December – 22 January as a month devoted to Hestia.

Status• Virgin theoi goddess.

What disrespects her turning away people at your home (she is a goddess of hospitality and it was seen as disrespectful to her to do so.)

Planet• unknown 

Her Tarot cards• the Temperance, the fourteenth Major Arcana card.

Remind me of• Hot cocoa, and Thanksgiving. 

Scents/Inscene • Lavender, Rose, spring water,  rain, Pumpkin, Apple pie, cinnamon, fall leaves, Chamomile, Myrrh, Frankincense, Iris, Angelica, Peony, Angelica, iris, Sandalwood 

My opinion • I like her, but I'm scared of her too. (what a shocker!) 

Prayers• 

Historical-

Holy Queen of Sanctity, we hymn you, Hestia, whose abiding realm is Olympus and the middle point of earth and the Delphic laurel tree! You dance around Apollo’s towering temple rejoicing both in the tripod’s mantic voices and when Apollo sounds the seven strings of his golden phorminx and, with you, sings the praises of the feasting gods. We salute you, daughter of Kronos and Rhea, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Hestia, reward our prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then we shall always, dance around your glistening throne.

For the lost -

Blessed Hestia, the first and the last, and the always flame. May your light burn bright and strong, May your prayers be those of respect and love, May you guide the lost, And give to those who have nothing. I give thanks to you, Hestia, for all that you have done And continue to do.

For people with intrusive thoughts -

I ask Hestia, the kind goddess, to help those who feel down. May they find comfort and peace inside of their homes and inside their own minds. Protect them for their destructive thoughts, and be the safe place they need so much

A prayer for homeles—

In Hestia’s name, may you always have a home and a roof over your head. May you always be comfortable and warm with a full belly. May you always be in good spirits and good company, never knowing the pervading loneliness that envelopes the soul.

Morning 

Blessed Hestia, Fill this home with your light and bounty, As the day fills it with golden sunshine.

Evening

Glorious Hestia, Let your hearth fire warm this house, As night draws her shadowed cloak over it now.

Blessings of the kitchen-

Hestia bless my little kitchen, I love it’s every nook And bless me as I do my work, Wash pots and pans and cook. May the meals that I prepare, Be seasoned from above, With thy blessings and thy grace, But most of all thy love

Links/websites/sources •

ts-witchy-archive, constantly-disheveled, saryoak, eldritchhorror06, https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amp, https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/625205765818515456/hestia-offerings/amphttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/179727039352/offerings-to-hestiahttps://www.learnreligions.com/hestia-greek-goddess-of-the-hearth-2561993#:~:text=Keep%20a%20candle%20dedicated%20to,prayers%2C%20songs%2C%20or%20hymns.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html#:~:text=In%20myth%20Hestia%20was%20the,youngest%20of%20the%20six%20Kronides.https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.htmlhttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia#google_vignettehttps://greekmythology.fandom.com/wiki/Hestiahttps://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/hestia/https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai https://hestiasservant.wordpress.com/2018/05/27/honoring-hestia-a-festival-every-day/https://www.elissos.com/the-family-goddess-hestia-mother-of-all-gods/#:~:text=The%20birth%20of%20Hestia%20dates,to%20his%20throne%2C%20his%20children.https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhea_(mythology)#:~:text=According%20to%20Hesiod%2C%20Rhea%20had,and%20Zeus%20in%20that%20order.https://www.reddit.com/r/pagan/comments/14sy8cj/is_hestia_reaching_out_to_me/https://mythopedia.com/topics/hestia

http://persephoneandhecate.blogspot.com/2011/06/exploring-archetypes-hestia.html?m=1https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://honeyandhestia.tumblr.com/post/170063420188/bedridden-devotion-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/heatherwitch/160613514230/hestiavesta https://constantly-disheveled.tumblr.com/post/156636591525/can-a-hearth-fire-just-be-a-candle-that-you-lighthttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169551188078/devotional-activities-for-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/167758105763/jar-to-help-me-connect-to-hestia-chamomilehttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171225676313/burn-herbs-and-spices-as-an-offering-to-hestia-i https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183383795283/what-kind-of-crystals-would-yall-associate-with https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/171208375440/a-historical-prayer-to-hestiahttps://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/169394109439/i-ask-hestia-the-kind-goddess-to-help-those-who https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/166938581678/if-youre-still-doing-prayer-requests-may-you-be https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/178225408393/lady-hestia-goddess-of-comfort-and-warmth-to https://www.tumblr.com/honeyandhestia/183772520921/a-little-kitchen-prayer-for-hestia https://www.hellenicgods.org/festivals-of-hellenismos---eortai

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[climbthemountain2020]

Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

++

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

[thebirdandthebee]

can i have just straight up fluff for carmy please? literally just cuddling is good enough for me i will take anything

Ask and you shall receive.

It was funny how quickly Carmen had gotten used to just walking into your apartment. You'd given him a key about six weeks ago and since then, you'd never heard a knock again. It was late, however, so you were grateful for the quiet entrance.

Glancing over at the Echo on your bedside table, you clocked it was nearly one in the morning. You could smell the pickled vegetables and roasted meat on Carmy's clothes.

"Carm?" You rasped out, flicking on your dim lamp.

"Hi baby," he said quietly, stepping out of his shoes and tucking them against the wall. "Sorry I woke you up," he said sincerely. He paused near your side of the bed, looking over his shoulder at the bathroom.

"Go shower, greasy boy," you said, becoming more and more awake each moment. He nodded, dipping into the small bathroom. Carmen was the king of quick showers and especially enjoyed using your rosemary mint shampoo. You certainly didn't mind the smell, either.

By the time he was out, he'd even remembered to aggressively wash his face with the cleanser you got him - and he had no complaints. He'd had fewer and fewer breakouts over the past few months since working it into this routine.

"Hi," you smiled, sitting up against the headboard. Carm loved when you wore matching pajama sets - even the ones that covered everything. He envied how cozy you looked. "Get in," you grinned, holding up the comforter. It was unbearably cold in Chicago and you were excited that your space heater was home.

Carmen wasted no time in snuggling up next to you in bed, bringing you close to his chest. You stuck your nose into his neck immediately, breathing in his clean scent. Pressing a soft kiss to his skin, you tangled your legs with his and slung an arm across his midsection.

"How was work, love?" You asked, hand resting on his stomach.

"Not bad, actually," he remarked, surprising you. It was rare that Carm came home from The Bear without complaints that it was a total shit show, but you knew he loved the chaos. You all but purred as his fingers lightly rubbed at your scalp, your silky hair tickling the indents of his hands.

He reached over, flicking off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness. You snuggled in closer, feet twisting together beneath the warmth of the blankets.

"'Smell good," you mumbled, sleep creeping back into your eyelids, wiggling comfortably against him.

"Wanna go to the farmers market in the morning?" He asked, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes on the exhale.

"Will you buy me a cinnamon roll?" You asked, licking your lips.

"You know I will," he murmured, making you grin. He was pressing just hard enough into his massage at the base of your skull that you thought you might start drooling.

"'n carry the flowers?" You asked, the words just escaping as you entered the plains of sale.

"And the flowers," he agreed. "Sleep tight, baby," he encouraged, following closely behind.

"Love you," you sighed.

"Love you more," he acquiesced.

[lumosinlove]

Last minute decision to do @oknutzyweek2023 because FUN!! Decided to add a little twist.

So: O’Knutzy Week (Taylor’s Version)

Day One: Summer Vacation (all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing)

Two times Logan had a cold and was a BABY about it.

Harvard

There was a flood warning. The whole locker room’s phones blared to attention at once. Finn saw the coaches frowning. Someone flipped the news on. The roads were gone, frigid wind rising from the spray of cars passing through puddles that were as good as small lakes. Blurry red lights and reporters barely hanging onto their umbrellas, sleet stinging their eyes.

Finn caught Percy’s eye and could almost taste it in the wink Percy dropped him. There was no way they were making it to this game.

Max slapped him on the back, short light brown hair sticking up in every direction from his post-practice shower. “Looks like we won’t be line mates after all, Captain.”

Finn sent him a half-smile. “Hm? Oh, yeah, man. Another time.”

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t anything he was proud of, but the idea of going on a roadie without Logan had been enough to get Finn down for days. A strange ache huddled in his chest, confusing him until he remembered the sight of Logan, feverish and red-nosed in his bed. Max was great. They would have been great on a line together. He was fast and he kept bodies away from Finn. But Max wasn’t Logan.

“All right, boys, you called it,” Coach sighed, hanging up his phone. “Game’s off. Let’s all get home safe now. Keep a close eye on these roads, it’s a river out there.”

At least the guys had the good sense not to cheer, but Finn knew they were all glad for the break. Exams were coming up fast and called for late nights in the library. Finn was exhausted. The games had been hard. They’d been missing Logan on the ice more than any of them cared to admit. He filled gaps that Finn never even thought to look for.

And it wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. But Finn felt stretched thin, brittle and sullen, when Logan wasn’t near.

Among the rustle of guys packing up and leaving, Finn hid a small smile, shoved his earbuds in, and pressed call.

The five rings it took for Logan to answer felt like the distance laughing in Finn’s face.

“Hm,” came from the line.

“Did I wake you?” Finn asked.

“Non,” Logan rasped, but Finn could hear it in his voice. He looked down at the call-screen, brushing a thumb over Logan’s contact picture: Grinning, half rolling his eyes maybe. From one of the boys’ pre-season road trips. Finn could just see his bare shoulders, and maybe no one else knew, but Finn had memorized the way his body had looked that day. Golden and strong. Hidden curves of muscles that Finn had mapped out with his thumbs, that one time. Once.

“Finn?” Logan’s voice asked, accompanied by a harsh cough.

“Oh, sorry, hi.” Finn rubbed his eyes. “Hi, I’m here. Just calling to say game’s cancelled.”

“You’re coming home?”

Finn laughed softly. The hope in Logan’s voice was unmistakable. “You’re such a baby when you’re sick.”

“Bring me soup.” 

“I will, I will.”

Finn wished he could make Logan soup, the real kind that his dad got from the deli around the corner when he and Alex were sick. Slight crunch of carrots, soft celery, thick egg noodles, bayleaf and rosemary. He wanted Logan to be better.

Finn zipped up his backpack. “Can you get better already?”

All he got in return was a disgruntled scoff. “I’m trying.” Then, after a moment, “You miss me?”

Finn smiled. He didn’t care who saw. It was Logan’s voice in his ears and his ears alone. “You know it.”

“Yo,” Percy said when the door to OKN slammed behind them. They were all freezing, knuckles tucked under the straps of their backpacks. “You going to check on the gremlin?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Kitchen first though. Gotta heat up some chicken noodle.”

Percy snorted. “He knows the stairs still work the same, right?”

Finn dropped his bags and laughed. “Oh, he knows.”

He went to the cupboard and found the cans of chicken noodle he’d picked up. The sink was a mess but he scrubbed a pan clean then stood close to the hot burner while it boiled. The rain was turning to snow outside and he, honestly, couldn’t remember the last time he’d been actually warm. He held his palms over the soup, beginning to bubble, and tried to rub some of the rawness out of his knuckles. He put it in a mug, easier for Logan to hold. Silver, Percy’s dog, came in and sniffed at his ankles, whining until Finn fished a piece of carrot out with the spoon and gave it to her.

How long did this storm give him to relax? A day or two. He still had to finish his Romanticism paper. He needed that book from Kelsey in his theory class. Logan’s soup was getting cold, Logan was sick, Logan was falling behind on his reading and there was only so much Finn could do to help. Logan, maybe, would let Finn spoon up against his back again while he shivered through his fever.

When he opened Logan’s door, he was hit with—well, the only word Finn’s brain supplied was summer. Logan had the heat in his room high, blankets wrapped tight around his shoulders. He was a half-visible lump in the bed, the darkness as good as humidity.

“Jesus,” Finn said as warmth began to seep back into his fingers. “Lo?”

No reply. Finn shut the door softly, then sat on the edge of Logan’s bed, setting the soup down. He put a hand on Logan’s back.

“Got your soup, baby,” he said—and then snapped his mouth shut. He’d meant it as—no, he’d meant—He’d meant here’s your soup. You big baby. But he hadn’t—had he? Baby. I just want to take care of you, and read all of your books to you and I want you to feel better, I miss you, I don’t know how to play without you—

Slowly, Logan rolled onto his back and blinked up at him. Finn stared back and had no idea if he’d heard or not. Baby.

“Raining?” Logan asked.

“Snow,” Finn said. He tapped a fingernail on the mug, making a soft clinking sound. “Soup.”

“We have to study.” Logan groaned and turned into his pillow before pushing himself up on one elbow. His hair was a mess. Needed a wash, too. When the blankets fell down, Finn swore he felt another wave of heat roll off of Logan’s bare chest and sink into his very bones.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Finn said. “Little vacation first, maybe.”

After a moment, one green eye peaked out at him. “Vacation?”

“Feels like the Bahamas in here, that’s good enough for me.”

Logan groaned. “I feel like the Bahamas.”

“So you are feeling better.”

“Non, ugh.”

Finn laughed, but at the frown that settled between Logan’s eyebrows, he quieted. It was a small risk, but he didn’t think Logan would call him on it—He pushed Logan’s sweaty hair off of his forehead. “I know, Lo. I’m sorry.”

Logan closed his eyes. “Oh, your hand is so cold.”

“Oh, sorry.” Finn made to pull back, but Logan gripped his wrist and kept him there.

“Non. Non, it feels good.” Logan dragged Finn’s hand to his cheek and let out a breath. “Fuck.”

Finn could only watched, lips parted, as Logan pressed Finn’s hands against his own neck, his chest, his forehead and cheeks. Finn didn’t dare move on his own. He let Logan put him where he wanted.

After what felt like an hour of Finn holding his breath and trying not to enjoy this too much, Logan let him go and sat up for his mug. He made a face that was something between relieved and dissatisfied.

“This soup is terrible.” He gave a shiver and sank back down into his blankets.

“I know,” Finn said, still caught on the soft roll of the R in Logan’s mouth. His lips were red, chapped. His eyes were vividly green against his fever-bright cheeks.

“What can I do?” Finn said softly. He needed to do something.

Logan looked at him for a long moment. Finn wanted him to say get in. Pull those heated, Logan-filled blankets back for him and let Finn sink into his favorite universe. The one where they might be each other’s.

“Nothing,” Logan whispered.

Nothing. That word out of Logan’s mouth could send him any which way. What could Finn do? Nothing. Nothing is what this seemed, sometimes. But it was everything. Finn was hopelessly trying, pushing and pushing himself to keep up with Logan. To try and figure out what Logan wanted from him. What more could he do?

Logan reached out and grabbed Finn’s hand again, bringing it back to his forehead. It startled a small laugh out of Finn.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Logan said. “D’accord?”

Finn sighed, but nodded. “Okay.”

Present Day

“My poor baby,” Finn said, trying to hide his laugh as he pushed the hair off of Logan’s clammy forehead. “Poor baby boy.”

Logan just tucked his nose up against Finn’s neck and grabbed at his hand until Finn was holding him even tighter around his waist, rubbing cool fingers up and down his spine.

“You are such,” Leo said from the doorway, where he had appeared with a tray of soup and ginger beer. “a baby when you’re sick.”

“Non.”

“Yon,” Finn said. “Always have been.”

Leo set the tray down on the other side of the bed and picked up the mug. He propped himself up against the headboards and Logan, slowly, rolled over and into his arms instead. Leo wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders so he could still reach the spoon. “Am I feeding you, is that what’s happening?”

“Yep,” Finn said. “Looks like it.”

Leo just shook his head, but let Logan lean up for a spoonful of broth.

“Merde,” Logan swallowed, his cheek smushing back against Leo’s t-shirt. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Finn met Leo’s eyes to catch his grin. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Logan accepted a few more spoonfuls before sitting up himself and taking more eager sips. His eyes flashed disgruntled. “I just want to get better.” He looked wistfully out the window. “It’s summer, we’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“Hey,” Finn held up a hand. “What more would I rather be doing on my vacation that stay holed up with you two?” 

“Same,” Leo said. “Lo, you’ll feel so much better in a few days.”

“I know but…Yeah. I know. Just ugh.” He took another long sip. “This soup is really the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Leo laughed. “I’ll get you some more.”

Finn watched Logan’s eyes follow Leo out through the doorway. He had that same feverish flush to his cheeks. Glassy green eyes, red nose.

“Remember the snow storm?” Logan asked suddenly.

Finn nodded. “Mhm.”

“Me too,” Logan said.

When they smiled at each other, it wasn’t all that sad.

“What do you need, baby?” Finn asked, rubbing a hand over his bare chest. “What can I do?”

“Be here,” Logan said. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s neck. “I need you two.” He smiled, eyes darting towards the kitchen. “Do you need anything?”

Finn shook his head, watching as Logan brought up his hand to cradle against his own cheek. “Just you two.”

After Logan fell asleep again, Finn found Leo in the kitchen, humming softly to himself. He was stirring the big pot on the stove and Finn settled his hands on his hips.

“Smells so good, Le.”

“You want some, too?” Leo asked, holding the spoon up for Finn to taste. “Need anything?”

Finn accepted it gratefully, but he turned his head and kissed the corner of Leo’s mouth. “No, nothing.” Nothing. It was the fullest word he’d ever used. “Just you humming in the kitchen.”

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Jamie on their couch watching reruns of last nights match. He couldn’t care that they lost though. He’s winning. He has his daughter sitting on his chest, her baby shampoo from her bath time still swirling in the air.

He can hear Roy in the kitchen making a bottle for their kid. Their kid!! They have a kid!! Jamie still can’t believe it half the time.

Roy comes back into their living room, passing the bottle to Jamie and sitting. Jamie switches around so he can lean against Roy while feeding Rosemary. A position they do quite often.

While their little 8 month old drinks, Jamie leans back and bites Roy’s jaw. Roy let’s put a quiet growl but all it does it make Rosie smile.

Jamie looks at Rosemary, he doesn’t understand how his dad could’ve possibly been so mean to such a small thing because that’s all Jamie was, he was this small once. His dad held him like this once. But it doesn’t matter now. Jamie has had a restraining order since they first talked about kids. His father is officially out of his life permanently.

He shakes those thoughts away. He’s looking forward to tonight. Almost a full three days off, Rosie is fully sleeping through the night, and with the most expensive baby monitor they can buy they finally have free time.

The things on Jamie’s agenda are.

Paint nails. Take shower with Roy. Do literally everything with Roy. Don’t let Roy out of sight until the next morning. Cuddle (and more) with Roy.

But right now as he looks down to Roy’s finger in Rosemary’s hand, he’s happy where he is.

[whatthefishh]

Let Down Your Hair

A/N: okay listen, this is extremely self indulgent and you might think it’s boring but I was dealing with some pain and I wanted my babies. Probably the first of a series of extremely specific fics. @kittyofalltrades 🤍 ty for reading this over and being super sweet to me

Steven Grant (with mentions of Jake + Marc) x muslim!hijabi!reader

Pure fluff and TLC. Just over 1k. No warnings really. One word of Farsi, two in Spanish.

Everything always comes down to a long day of work, but after the day you had, all you wanted to do was go home to your boys and curl up on the couch, with food that you didn’t have to cook yourself, wearing the comfiest clothes you owned.

Crossing the threshold of your shared apartment, you couldn’t wait to take off your hijab and change into something more comfortable than your work attire. Your hair was just not cooperating, there was a pulsing behind your eyes and you desperately wanted a scalp massage. Kicking off your shoes, you didn’t even notice Steven (or was it Marc at the moment?) standing in the kitchen over the stove, looking up at your noisy entrance.

Groaning, you unpinned your scarf and flung it on the sofa on your way to the bedroom. Your mind was so focused on taking a hot shower, one hand absently rubbing the hair on the back of your head. Steven’s eyebrows shot up at the action but he didn’t comment. You were clearly having a hard time, and he was going to give you some space to take care of it until you finished but Jake didn’t let him.

Go help her!

“What d’you mean, she probably wants to be alone right now,” Steven mumbled back.

She could use your hands, our bebita looked tired, Jake sighed in the headspace.

Washing his hands free of the fruit he finished prepping for you both, he left the bowl in search of you. Steven found you sitting on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands, folded almost in half as you shielded yourself from the light.

“Love? You alright?” He reached out a hand to your shoulder, watching as your head moved up to look at him with pain clear on your face. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“Steven, my head…”

“Another migraine?” You nodded slowly. “I’ve got just the thing.”

You felt his presence leave you, waiting for him to come back with whatever he thought might help you. The lights in the apartment dimmed, and he also shut off the TV that was on earlier, making the space much more relaxing for you.

But still, he didn’t return.

After some more shuffling, he finally came back to you, gently urging you to the floor in front of the bed. You weren’t in a state to question him so you complied with your eyes closed, the map of your apartment ingrained to memory by now.

The sounds in the apartment were amplified with your decreased vision. You could hear Steven’s deep breathing behind you. The unmistakable sound of a pump being pressed, liquid gushing out. Hands slapping together, rubbing. The smell of lemons, rosemary and jasmine hitting your nose. Your head was still pounding, hair still falling uncomfortably, but you were able to breathe easier.

Steven’s hands worked themselves into your hair, his digits combing through to coat the strands in the oil he had grabbed from the bathroom. The pads of his fingers started working in circular motions, moving across your head from your hairline to the nape of your neck, pressing his thumbs in when he reached there. You couldn’t help the pathetic sound you let out, and Steven sniffed out a laugh in response.

He repeated this motion until you felt like he had lifted all your roots and soothed them with the oil treatment, his deft fingers providing you with such relief that you couldn’t even open your eyes if you wanted to at that point.

See, told you she needed help. Jake was so smug for someone who sat back and watched Steven do all the work. Marc was taking mental notes.

Head still hanging between your shoulders, he continued to gently massage your neck until he kissed your head and pulled you to stand, guiding your drowsy figure to the shower.

Leaving you to rinse the day and hair oil away, he went to find some comfortable clothes for you to change into once you were finished. Steven dug through your basket of clean clothes - why did you have a full basket of clean - never mind. He would help you put them away later. Finally settling on a pair of soft cotton pajamas, he laid them out on the bed for you. He was going to wait for you on the couch and try to pick something for the two of you to watch until it was time for dinner.

On the other side of the wall, you were going through the motions of your regular shower but with half your mind present. The other half was with your partner, thoughts focused on the man in the living room and how sweet he treated you always. Your fingers combed through your hair, working on detangling what you could with your conditioner as the hot water sprayed on your back.

Finishing sooner than you thought - how long were you in there actually you had no concept of time - you walked out in a daze, only to find one of your favourite sets waiting for you. Slipping into the cozy clothing and drying your hair lazily, you finally walked out to see your favourite person.

“Delbar*?” You called out to him.

“In here, love.”

Turning the corner as you approached him, Steven looked up at you with such tenderness that you wanted to cry. This adorable, generous man, who you realized you didn’t even greet when you came home, came to your aid with zero hesitation and made you feel so pampered.

Joining him on the couch and burrowing your way into his side, his arms came around you soon enough to hold you close as you decided on what movie to watch for the evening.

Later, sometime between the first and second heist in Fantastic Mr Fox, after sharing the fruit he had so thoughtfully cut up for you, you thank him, peppering his face with kisses the way Marc hates. You have a feeling he actually feels really good when you do it but isn’t used to it, so you take advantage of Steven allowing you to, getting all the cute aggression out of your system (impossible). Jake has a nasty habit of doing it right back but deliberately being extra sloppy when he does so you’re left feeling like a dog licked your face, and you didn’t want that fresh out of the shower.

“Princesa…”

Uh oh.

*Delbar = my heart / my love / the one who holds my heart

[xxkingrayxx]

When you got together, your hair was short. A pixie cut, i guess it would be described as. Eddie had hair to a little past his shoulders. You didn't think it would bother you, but jealousy crouched in your chest whenever you helped him wash it, tie it up. You stopped going to trims, growing your hair out passively. After about 2 months of not trimming it, you were laying on Eddies chest as he played with your hair. "Your hairs getting long baby", he says, running his fingers through the shorter strands at the bottom of your head. "I know. Im growing it out.", you reply nonchalantly, rolling over to look at him. He gasps and sits up, throwing you off of him.

"Eddie?", you half laugh as he runs to the bathroom, coming back a minute later with a handful of haircare products. "Here baby I have extras! Come in the bathroom ill show you how to wash properly. Look i even have these!", he gushes, guiding you into the bathroom, helping you undress and into the shower. He tells you all about what products to use, how much water to drink, what to eat for the best hair growth as he washes your hair. "Ok so conditioner then shampoo then conditioner again. Oh and you can do inversion therapy which is where you hand upside down and massage your scalp, ill show you how to do it later baby. And ill make you some rosemary and sage water, its so good for your hair."

He helps you out of the shower, explaining that you shouldn't scrub your hair, and not to brush it straight out of the shower unless you have really curly hair. He gently wraps your hair in a t shirt and leads you out into the kitchen where he starts to make the rosemary and sage water, the kitchen filling with the smell of rosemary.

He was always gentle with you. A year later and your hair had grown out to a little past your shoulders, and he was very proud of himself. Reminding you to drink water, brushing your hair gently and putting products in it whenever you stayed over. Soft and shiny, you got compliments from everyone about your hair, smiling and pointing to your boyfriend.

A few years later, and both of you had hair to your waists. It had become an important part of your day, braiding each other's hair before bed, brushing it in the morning and putting it into that days style. Braids, buns, ponytails. Special occasions were marked by intricately braided hair, dozens of plaits skillfully arranged. You both took a great deal of pride in it.

He had proposed months ago. He was careful to pick a ring that didn't have sharp angles so it wouldn't snag in your hair. You sat together early the morning of your wedding, weaving the others hair into beautiful patterns. You ordered black roses months before, sewing and weaving them into his braids. He did the same for you, the bouquet of your wedding sewn into both of your hair.

[deeptrashwitch]

hc + 🧼 for a hygiene-themed headcanon

For as many ocs as you want/whoever you want

Hiya Snoots!

For the four main babies and the prick (read as Charles xd)

Alicia:

She has a skin care routine to help with the sensation of her facial scars and the neck one, so she cleans it, hydratate it and uses a medicated cream every night and morning.

Luke:

Usually he washes his hair twice, and he applies shampoo twice and then the conditioner. Good thing he's quick to shower.

Jackson:

Surprisingly he has some (many) face masks and he uses it once a week, that's the only reason why he doesn't have eyebags big like a supermarket bag.

Edward:

Eddie uses some rosemary soap for his face and roses soap for his body. He says it helps him to relax and leaves his skin as good as new 😅

Charles:

He stealed Aleks ( @alypink OC ) hair products once from the safehouse, because he ran out of his own...and surprisingly it worked better than his own, so he now buys that brand of products. (Apparently Aleks noticed as soon as she looked, but just let him be with a smile)

Thanks for the ask! Hope you like the answers!

[acuar-io]

Maisy won!!! Omggg >< I feel like Maisy is the name Rosemary came up with & Nico came up with Amelia.

Good thing they’re going to have more kids so I can always use that one in the future 🙈

Can’t wait to see her when she’s born 🥹 I haven’t touched my gameplay in a while because I want to get making family members out of the way so I can then focus on the wedding :3 I have two saves: one for gameplay & one for “story directing” I guess you can say! Hehe I wanted to make friends but….idc abt that rn LMAOOOO maybe for the baby shower I’ll add in some friends for them but rn we are just focused on the family making and wedding 😁☝🏼

[sunlitmcgee]

rosemary's baby update I got to the part where her husband shames her short haircut and got so upset I ran to take a shower and went nuts clipping my hair

[mediamixs]

Top 10 horror movies from the 60's

The 1960s was a pivotal decade for horror films, marked by experimentation and the emergence of new subgenres. Here are ten notable horror movies from that era:

Psycho (1960) Directed by Alfred Hitchcock, this iconic film redefined horror with its shocking narrative twists and psychological tension. The infamous shower scene remains one of the most memorable moments in cinema history.

The Haunting (1963) Based on Shirley Jackson's novel "The Haunting of Hill House," this atmospheric film directed by Robert Wise focuses on a group of people investigating a supposedly haunted mansion, relying on suggestion and mood rather than explicit scares.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) George A. Romero’s groundbreaking zombie film revolutionized the horror genre. Its commentary on social issues, combined with a raw, documentary-style approach, set the stage for future horror films and the zombie apocalypse genre.

The Innocents (1961) Directed by Jack Clayton, this adaptation of Henry James's novella "The Turn of the Screw" is a chilling tale of psychological horror, featuring themes of possession and innocence corrupted.

The Birds (1963) Another classic from Alfred Hitchcock, this film tells the story of a small town besieged by unexplained bird attacks. Its suspenseful build-up and haunting imagery have left a lasting impact on the horror genre.

Carnival of Souls (1962) Directed by Herk Harvey, this low-budget film follows a woman who becomes increasingly haunted by mysterious apparitions after surviving a car accident. Its eerie atmosphere and surreal visuals have earned it a cult following.

Rosemary's Baby (1968) Directed by Roman Polanski, this psychological horror film tells the story of a pregnant woman who suspects that a satanic cult wants to take her baby. Its unsettling atmosphere and themes of paranoia make it a classic.

The Haunting of Julia (1977) Although technically from the late '70s, it reflects the style and thematic elements of '60s horror. Directed by Peter Sasdy, it tells the story of a woman who, after losing her daughter, moves into a new home, only to confront supernatural events tied to her past. The film's exploration of grief and haunting is reminiscent of the psychological horror trends of the previous decade.

The Curse of the Werewolf (1961) Directed by Terence Fisher, this film features Oliver Reed as a man cursed to become a werewolf. Unlike many other werewolf films of the time, it delves into the character's tragic backstory and explores themes of fate and identity. The film is notable for its atmospheric cinematography and dramatic performances, making it a unique entry in the werewolf genre.

The Night Stalker (1972) While technically a made-for-TV movie from the early '70s, it reflects the style and themes prevalent in the '60s. Directed by John Llewellyn Moxey, this film follows a reporter investigating a series of mysterious deaths in Las Vegas linked to a vampire. Its blend of crime and horror, along with its social commentary, makes it a precursor to later horror series.

These films showcase the range of horror from psychological terror to supernatural frights, reflecting the changing landscape of societal fears and cinematic innovation in the 1960s.

[gu6chan]

tell us about barnabas 👀

YIPPPEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

Okay so first right off the bat i owe you an apology, you were so kind to reach out and this ask is like a month old and i actually finished it 2 weeks ago but thought "Barnabas' birthday is on the 27th, isn't it?" so i actually scheduled it for there 😭 im so sorry if it felt like i forgot about you!!!! i never forget about my asks, i swear skgdhbjhfd especially not as kind as this!!! i just take an extremely long time answering them, i promise aaaaa....

OKAY, SO (I may want to warn ahead of time for warnings of murder, CSA and general violence/mistreatment of kids)

There's a WHOLE bunch that i could go into in how his story DEVELOPS but i'll try my best just to give a basic rundown otherwise this could last forever!! There's going to be a few details left unsaid for the sake of brevity and simplicity since it's a lot but! I will do my best to explain this coherently 🫡 THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ABOUT HIM IVE BEEN WORKING ON THE DOODLE HERE FOR THE PAST COUPLE DAYS SO I COULD DO THIS ASK JUSTICE LMAO

So!!! Generally speaking, Barnabas (His full name being Barnabas Johannes Mandalay) is a very important character in the little story I have!! It's divided up into four main parts which make up the primary story, with a couple side stories here and there :3<

Barnabas isn't really seen in most of the story till about the last moment, but he's certainly there!! He also gets to be a "protagonist" of his own story, Garden of Genesis, which is sort of like a de-facto "prequel" to the four main bits? That said, that will probably be the section of his story I cover here as it's.... literally HIS story lol Honestly, whether I'll ever do anything with this story at all or just keep it in my head I'm not even sure, so I'm thrilled whenever I get to yap about it!!!

But to explain who Barnabas actually is, he was born on October 27th, 1697, the son of the duke Johannes Mandalay and his wife, Rosemary, and the twin of a stillbirth, Edmund. Barnabas was deemed unlikely to survive due to an extremely weak heart that made even the act of walking difficult, and given the high infant mortality rate of the time, he was sadly cast aside with expectations he would die. His parents didn't want him dying miserably, so they placed him in the nursery they had prepared for them with plans to pick him up by next morning.

However, two servants, Empathy (11) and Henry (10), would eventually be led to the nursery holding the young baby Barnabas that night by a certain crow, which I'll talk about later. (Technically it was Empathy who was led to it and Henry who later stumbled across them both after hearing a ruckus and deciding to investigate, but...) The two decide to try their best and take care of Barnabas in secret, a task that they end up being pretty good at for two pre-teens! lmao

So time flies, and Barnabas is introduced back to his family! Of course, he's alive, but still very weak, not being able to leave past the premises of the manor and also needing to be pushed around in a wheelchair to get anywhere at all. His mother loves him and pays him attention enough, though,,, she's also kinda not getting her hopes up for him to STAY but his father is the exact opposite, even if he IS kinda skeptical that Barnabas is going to live, he still showers him with attention and praise and essentially spoils the poor boy rotten to the point everyone was kinda "???? what are you doing" 😭

Most IMPORTANTLY though, Barnabas' father was his main foray into religion, which Barnabas was absolutely TAKEN with. One of Barnabas' most cherished items is the small red bible his father left him, which he continued to carry around to the end of his life like a pacifier lmao

So skip ahead 2 years, his father DOES passes away in a freak accident and his mother is left to take the title due to Barnabas' VERY young age at that point, additionally not really able to find it in her to come back to her "Maternal" senses in her nihilism that came with the realisation of how fragile things really were. Barnabas is then raised by his servants (Now grown ofc), who he's come to regard as parents in their own right, though he sorely misses his mother, and considers his engagement to his cousin Maria a type of "gift" or sign from her. Barnabas falls into obsession with religion, setting on a dream to start a family on earth and become an angel when he dies so he can answer the prayers of people all over the world <3 he's a little baby lol

Here's a little thing I doodled for this ask (The colouring is a bit off, my apologies!!), Henry and Empathy at 24 and 25, respectively. Barnabas would be around 12, where most his story takes place! And I feel so bad for doing it but seeing how much I've yapped just getting his character established i might have to REALLY summarize... (This kid is REALLY important so there are just so many threads and characters to introduce to make the story make sense and aaaaaaa!!!) So in the most basic terms, his story goes like this: Barnabas, entirely dependent on religion as means to fill up his lack of any real parental figure in his life (Henry and Empathy are LESS than suitable parents and I dunno if I'll get to that in this post, but hopefully!!), is caught in the middle of a series of sadistic murders of servants in his own estate while trying - and failing - to move on by relying on unfortunately cold and/or misled people, such as his fiancée, "friends", and caretakers. this is really long so lemme just....

So the first character who he really meets on his story is Edwin: fast forward to when Barnabas is 12, while visiting the forest on his birthday he comes across a trapped crow. He frees the crow, only to find a boy greeting him later that night who came to thank him. Barnabas is very enamoured with this boy (unknowingly), initially only psychically at first, but coming to grow a,,,, romantic? emotional??? attraction later on (I'll opt for the best description being unhealthy emotional dependence, i think lol)? Edwin has a VERY important role with Barnabas but also another character! Mentioned rn Maria: Barnabas' cousin/fiancée, NOT a friendly person!!!! NOT a friendly person, she's the main,,, antagonist? of the work? So long story short she had a more or less normal upbringing for the times, though just had completely detached herself from typical human morality as a result. She ends up making a sort of faustian pact with Edwin after stumbling across him (All according to keikaku on his end) and in line with seeing humans more as objects and ofc as previously mentioned, having detached herself from any emotional permanence, expresses interest in watching them die and seeing the fallout from it. She has Edwin do the dirty work to avoid getting any suspicion or dirt on her hands, and initially plans to kill Barnabas as a "final end" before allowing Edwin to take her soul, though through the story ends up... Not falling in love, persay, but growing a sort of emotional permanence to him that results her forcing him into a suicide pact of sorts towards the end of the story. She only ever kills 2 people.... technically?

Finally there's Samuel, who I forget exists half the time and is the NEWEST addition to the story, as the initial draft I wrote back in like 2011/2012 was in DESPERATE need for a B Plot i kid you not the original story was so fucking bad.... 😭 So I still don't have him PERFECTLY established and honestly he's a bit of a woob so I PERSONALLY don't care about him as much, but long story short he's hired as a servant in the MIDST of the murders (to everyone's surprise!!) after being plucked off the streets by Henry. He's slowly rotting away from like several STDs which,,, people aren't GREATLY aware of himself included (As was the bit of the times) but is kinda no one's favourite kid, there's rumours flying around that he's whoring himself out for his position and Empathy doesn't care for him because of how just his existence "threatens" the image of a family she had made for herself (More on that in a bit!!). And its like the kid didn't even do anything tf......... However, Barnabas, free from all the anti-Samuel slander and the such, sees this weird sickly kid staggering around and takes to him very quickly!!! This kind of sparks a certain infatuation on Samuel's end, who begins to fall in love with Barnabas off the simple fact he was one of the first people to him with human eyes. Samuel takes it upon himself to "Protect" Barnabas' purity, which comes to a point when he starts growing suspicious of Maria's role in all the murders. Unfortunately the feeling of "I need to get RID of this tramp" is returned as she figures Samuel is a prime target to frame for the murders should things ever go south. She crafts this brilliant scheme after Henry's sudden death, one death she did not have calculated, and linking it back to Samuel herself. Unfortunately, this ends in complete failure on both ends after Samuel attempts doing away with her in a blind fit of rage after Barnabas grows deathly ill and he overhears Maria confess to Barnabas her role behind the murders and form their aforementioned suicide pact. Maria manages to wrestle the knife out of his hands and stabs him multiple times, leaving him to bleed out before she seeks to inform Empathy of his suicide. Interestingly enough, Empathy does dare to state her suspicion on it, however! Maria, more than aware of Empathy's feelings towards Samuel, is just like "Well it doesn't matter bc its easier for you now isnt it lol" and so the whole thing gets passed off as a suicide. Barnabas does NOT take the news well, however, and even despite Edwin's VERY panicked efforts to keep him alive, he ends up passing away from his sudden onset "illness" later on (Illness was really a pretense, what actually happened was Empathy deciding to let him by smothering him in his sleep because at that point, his declining psychical and mental state as a result of Samuel's death was enough to "ruin" her familial perception of her, Barnabas, and Henry to the point she couldn't bear it. She justifies it to herself by simply claiming it to be a necessary mercy kill, unable to fully face up to what she did or the thought it was based in.)

The general truth behind Empathy and Henry is that Empathy was raised by the church, and through the circumstances of her birth that led her to being raised by the church, she was forbidden from having a family or any children of her own. This led to her drive to become a nanny to begin with, eventually meeting Henry through their stumbling across Barnabas together and over time, either as a result of developing a sort of crush on him or developing a crush on him because of the "Father" mold she began to ascribe to him, crafting a sort of "mold" for her hypothetical perfect family and reacting,,, poorly? to anything that didn't fit within it. She ignored how Henry grew up to become a predator and his rampant sexual abuse of several younger members of the staff, and outright despised Samuel while not outright showing it despite her "Motherly" role to the rest of the Mandalay household. This is entirely because Samuel wasn't as quiet and couldn't "Hide" the effects of his abuse as clearly as the others, thus "interfering" in the perfect family image she had constructed for Henry, Barnabas and herself.

Of course, there's a few smaller bits I left out for the sake of brevity (as you can see i am a master of it) and the fact SOME bits of the story might be better fitted for another post (There's one important bit about Barnabas and Edwin's relationship because funny enough, it fits the story of two other characters better, being Zinnia and Alaundra!) , but!!! this is in reality like 0.001% of barnabas' story, after his death he ends up having his wish granted, somewhat, and becomes not just an angel, but a part of God himself. Barnabas' ensuing regret over this and the true purpose of his existence and becoming one with God is where things really kick off. Still though, despite starting off as one of my crappiest, In the Garden of Genesis and its characters have been developed into a story that has a really special place to me, I think! I don't talk about my OC's often since,,, I don't know how to explain it, for as often as I DO think about them, it never crosses my mind to talk about them? That said! Characters like Maria I roll around in my head constantly, and Edwin and Barnabas are just too cute lol <3 I really do apologise for how long it took me to get this out, but this being the first ask about any of my OC's, I REALLY wanted to do this justice!! It's a bit messy and I hope it's not too painful or awful to read, but this ask made my whole day when I got it.... and all the months it took me to answer it since then QwQ Thank you so much!!!!!!!

P.S: Because I couldn't find a place to put it, Edwin's name is actually Edward! "Edwin" is just a nickname Barnabas gave him after learning his name from Maria and it stuck (Much to his distaste).