#some of you think parents need to lay down over every puddle so their kids feet dont get wet before they deserve anything

[trekkele]

theres something very frustrating about fics where bruce keeps reaching out and reaching out and reaching out and his kids refusing to so much as meet him partway

[falling-pages]

A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

-

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

-

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Kofi

[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 32 (Final Chapter).

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Daddy Kink, Degradation, Hand Job, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Pregnant Sex, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Praise, Spanking

A/N: This is the FINAL, FINAL chapter.... Wah, can you believe it? This is so crazy! I'm so so happy that everyone has enjoyed Third Wheeling so much! Thank you to my forevers @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​ and @ppersonna​ for being behind me on everything about this series

The sharp whistle that Yoongi chirps, bleeds through the living room of the mansion.

His two year old son turns to him with round, curious eyes. His small hand is outstretched trying to pick up the million dollar vase you have on display on the coffee table.

"What're you doing, my little troublemaker?"  Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms around his son and throwing him up in the air.

Honggi squeals loudly, curling his arms around his father's neck like needy vines.

"Maya, please move that vase before Y/N has a fit." Yoongi whispers to the woman he's always admired.

"Yes, Sir." she giggles.

"Dada," Honggi squeals into his neck and Yoongi's heart clenches at the sound.

"Yes, bud?" he inquires, tilting his head to look down at his son.

"Hungry." his son breathes.

"Mommy's making food, let's go see." Yoongi chirps, running his large hand over his son's small back.

Taking in the new mansion, Yoongi is really happy with it.

He didn't bring over a special architect from Greece, he didn't fawn over the marble this time around. He let you pick the house.

And like always, you're incredible.

The house isn't particularly gaudy like the last one which he shared with his ex-wife. It's warm wooden interior and gray and white furnishings scream home. And that's what Yoongi always needed -- a home.

Although, anywhere with you is home, he's noticed.

The wings that spread out far and wide throughout the house have pieces of art that make Yoongi feel comforted and he's astounded everyday by how thoughtful you are.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and it rips your husband out of his daydream.

"Uh oh, here comes trouble." you sing, slinging your towel over your shoulder.

You extend your arms over the quartz island for your son and Yoongi is incredibly cautious.

"Be careful, please," he begs.

You give him a sweet nod, accepting your son into your arms and Honggi leans over the pot curiously.

"Cow?" he asks and you snort loudly.

"Yes, beef." you reply, wiping his chin with your thumb.

"B-Beef," he repeats and Yoongi beams.

Honggi isn't one to stay in anyone's arms for long, despite how much he adored being held as a newborn. He wriggles almost immediately to get down and Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth cautiously.

"Watch mommy's belly, please." he yelps, setting your son on the floor.

"Jesus," he bleats, kissing your cheek.

"It's okay," you promise him, bending down to fix your son's black hair.

Honggi hugs your neck tightly, kissing your cheek so sweetly that it turns you into a puddle of love.

"What should we name your brother and sister?" Yoongi inquires of your son as he leans both elbows down on the island.

He pops a grape in his mouth, looking at his kid expectantly.

"Pororo... Poby!" Honggi giggles, swaying back and forth.

"Oh yeah, good idea! We can name them after penguins!" Yoongi teases, giving his son a grape.

"Poby is a polar bear." you inform him, stirring the stew.

"Yeah daddy! Bear!" Honggi scoffs, tugging on Yoongi's pants playfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry daddy doesn't know what anthropomorphic animals his son watches while he's at work." your husband murmurs.

"An-Anth-Anthr… Animals!" Honggi gasps and you laugh gently.

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, allowing the comfort of being surrounded by his family to enrapture him.

He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you and your growing stomach.

"I missed you today, little dove." he breathes, kissing your temple.

"You miss me everyday," you state, turning around in his grasp.

"That's true. Because I love you." he coos, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

"I love you too," you giggle, accepting the kiss he gives you.

Since Yoongi became a father he's learned so many things like patience and showing love to his child, the likes of which his younger self never got to see. He wants to give his family the entire world if he can, he wants to give all of you everything you could possibly desire because it was so terribly lacking when he was a kid.

"Dinner isn't going to be ready for a bit." you tell your family.

"But I'm hungry now!" Honggi cries, throwing his head back in a dramatic two year old fashion that both of his parent's laugh at.

"Okay. We'll have yogurt and go play with the Gaesu until Mommy is done cooking." Yoongi announces, picking up his son and slinging him over his shoulder.

"I love you mommy!" Honggi squeals.

"I love you too, bub." you reply, kissing his forehead.

"Give mommy's belly a kiss before we go." your husband instructs, patting his son's backside.

Honggi kisses your growing stomach and you can only snort at your husband's silliness.

"Okay. Now dada!" your son says, clapping.

The CEO kisses your stomach and then your forehead.

"You're gonna wrinkle your suit." you chide him, leaning back against the counter.

"So worth it." he retorts, giving you a gummy smile.

Two years have flown by in the blink of an eye.

There has, of course, been hard work that's been poured into your marriage whether it be for Honggi or just to be able to spend time together but the honeymoon phase has never truly died down.

You bask in each other's company like lizards under the hot sun.

You thrive when you're both together.

It's fate, really.

"He's asleep," Yoongi announces, stepping into your bedroom.

"Oh, nice. It only took two hours instead of three like yesterday." you know you sound sarcastic but it's really true. Honggi never seems to be able to sleep when he needs to, he's hyperactive in waves and thoroughly enjoys spending time with his father.

"Well tonight we read the big bad wolf and then he got scared so I had to calm him down and stay with him until he finally fell asleep." your husband rambles, peeling off his clothes.

You hum in agreement, sitting up gently.

Yoongi's tattoo of the large family tree on his bicep seems to shine in the dull lights of the room and it makes a smile spread over your face.

"How are my other babies?" he inquires, laying down beside you on the bed.

It's no secret that you adored your son and it's no secret that Yoongi wanted you pregnant almost immediately after Honggi was born. He missed your big belly and the closeness it brought the both of you when you were pregnant. But after Honggi was born, your paintings were flying off the art exhibit walls like hot cakes and you needed time to create new works of art.

While your husband had his tantrums and gripes about it, he understood. Being pregnant is difficult and he knows that, so when you told him he had to wait, he begrudgingly accepted it.

Your art was on hold now, with over two hundred pieces out in the world at any given second, you decided to focus on family.

"They're okay," you promise, running your fingers through your hair.

You can remember when you found out you were pregnant again for the second time. All of your symptoms hit so much harder than the first pregnancy.

"Baby? We gotta go. We're gonna be late." Yoongi calls, peeking into the bathroom.

He didn't expect to find you heaving over the toilet but when he does, two things happen simultaneously. There's a sharp bout of worry and a thinner vein of excitement that spread through his bones.

"What's the matter, my dove? You feel sick?" he pouts, entering the bathroom to rub at your back.

You shiver gently, waving your hand to the large gray cabinets beneath your sinks.

"I'm not a mime, I'm sorry." your husband whispers, raising an eyebrow.

"Pr-Pregnancy test," you plead.

He could just about pass out and die from happiness from those two words.

"Really?! You think so?!" he beams, ripping open the doors and tearing open the cardboard box like some sort of rabid animal.

His hands are shaky when he gives you the test and he helps you off of your knees immediately.

His thumbs rub at the tile indentations on your kneecaps and like always he stares up at you like you hang the moon on a string for him each and every night.

"I'm sorry we're late." you whisper, blotting your mouth with toilet paper.

"This is way more important. Fuck that. Jeongguk can wait." Yoongi avows, watching you cap the pregnancy test.

"We probably aren't even going to make it there anyway," your husband breathes.

"Why not?" you inquire, standing up and smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

The CEO wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. "Because if you are pregnant, I'm gonna have to do some celebratory stuff."

You laugh aloud, running your fingers over his arms. "Stuff like what?"

"Like eating your pretty pregnant pussy and fucking your pregnant cunt." he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver at his words, glancing down at the test.

You hope you are pregnant. There's something insane in women's brains which makes them forget just how painful childbirth is so they can always look forward to more.

But the euphoric feeling of having a baby is well worth the pain, that's something you'll always remember.

"God, I think you are pregnant." he hisses, running his hands over your sides.

"Why do you say that?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.

"You just feel different in my hands."

"I think you're crazy," you retort with a laugh.

"Why?!" he gasps.

"Because you didn't say anything yesterday when we… y'know."

"When we fucked?" he goads, kissing you softly.

You hum in agreement against his lips and he snorts softly.

"You did feel warmer around me." he announces, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"It should be ready." you inform him, both of your eyes glued to the face down stick.

"Go on, show me that my baby is in you." he urges, kissing your temple.

Your heart races and your fingers begin to shake as you flip over the stick.

Yoongi holds his breath and you find yourself doing the same.

When you flip it over, the plus sign screams at you and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief.

Your husband groans happily, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around.

"Thank you baby, thank you!" he cheers.

When he sets you down on the ground, you can't help the thrilled giggle that seeps from you.

"Should we head out?" you ask your husband softly.

The scoff he gives only seems right. "Yeah, right. I have more important things to celebrate than a boxing match."

You can only squeal when he scoops you up bridal style.

Putting his head on your shoulder, your husband takes a deep, calming breath.

His fingertips dance over your distended skin and his lips traipse over your exposed collarbone.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The smirk that spreads over your face is goofy and flushed, sometimes you find it astounding that he can even be so sweet with you.

There's a tiny kick beneath his fingertips that makes his head lift off of your body.

"What are you up to in there, guys? Fighting or something?" he gawks, feeling another flurry of taps below his hand.

"They don't have enough room," you announce, lolling your head back to the pillow.

"Well, just four more months and you won't have to be cramped anymore." Yoongi promises, sliding down the bed to kiss your belly.

"We should sleep, we have plans for tomorrow."

"Caleb's first birthday party." Yoongi remembers, drifting his lips over your skin.

You nod in agreement, tucking your hand beneath your head to get comfy.

Your husband knows just how difficult it is for a woman with a set of twins inside of her to fall asleep and he's nothing if not doting.

"Lemme put my babies to sleep," he murmurs, sliding his fingers over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

It's fascinating how the Kisung CEO can make you feel as if black coffee pumps through your veins even when you're completely exhausted.

He watches you avidly, making sure this is something you're up for. When your nipples begin to pebble and strain under the flimsy nightgown that can barely contain your swollen flesh, Yoongi knows he's got the green light.

His eyelids lower with lustful intentions and the tip of his tongue glides slowly over his plump bottom lip.

He knows you're excited for anything and everything when your hips lift expectantly.

Clicking his teeth, he pushes your body back down to the bed. "Easy now, little dove. You should know who's in charge here, baby."

Your whimper sounds like the most earnest plea as it passes through your parted lips and Yoongi can feel his cock straining against his briefs for some semblance of relief.

He kisses at your clothed pussy, already feeling how sodden the material is getting in a matter of seconds.

It continues to astound him, two years in, how willing your body is for him.

"Daddy," you breathe softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

His hands caress whatever he can find whether it be your thighs, your belly, your breasts.

"Wet little slut for me." he murmurs, tugging your panties off with his teeth.

You're quick to discard your nightgown, wanting nothing more to be touched anywhere you can get it.

Your husband hums at the sight of your core, pussy lips puffy and swollen with greedy intentions and slick with arousal.

"There she is," he breathes, kissing over your belly.

Palming your breasts in hand, you understand why he's taking so long -- to drive you insane.

He wants euphoria and adrenaline to course through you like wildfire so when it ebbs away, you'll be completely exhausted.

"My beautiful dove." Yoongi professes, spreading your legs wider.

Your eyes are glued to his abs, the way the muscles contort and constrict with each shallow breath he breathes.

You can thank each and every god everyday for the man you're married to.

You know the hierarchy in this bedroom, it rarely ends up with you on top, but the temptation of his thick, hard cock straining against his Balenciaga briefs has you throwing all cares to the wind.

He hisses gently against your distended skin when you cup his long length with your hand.

Yoongi will be the first to admit that he's missed this. He's been sweet and caring, not wanting to trouble you for sex with you being as huge as you are. He knows two babies are way more difficult than just Honggi. But, he needs you. In every single way.

"Play nice, my dove." he chides you softly, kissing up your belly to your swollen breasts.

You don't heed his words, tugging down the band of his briefs and swallowing thickly when his large cock bobs in the air before smacking up to his toned honey stomach.

His eyes flutter shut at the feeling and you know you've neglected him for too long. His cock is throbbing and needy as sin, beads of precum endlessly spurting from the top and slowly traipsing down the head.

"Baby girl," he gasps when you pump his cock in hand.

Yoongi kisses over your puffy nipples, scoffing at the pleasure that vibrates through him with each jerk.

He coos softly when you bead milk for him and his eyes snap to yours. "You didn't tell me your milk came in."

"I-I didn't know," you chirp, pumping his cock harder.

He shivers then, wrapping his lips around your peaked nub and tugging softly. He groans happily at the distantly familiar taste of your milk and his needy hands grip and massage your thighs as he situates himself further between them.

"Daddy, fuck!" you cry out gently, arching your back.

The tip of your husband's tongue is quick against your sensitive skin and you can only whimper for more.

Your shaking thumb runs circles over the swollen, red mushroom head of his cock and he gasps above you, pressing his forehead into your breast.

"Ba-Baby, this is about you. Please," he begs, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You give a smirk, feeling high and mighty at how quickly you can break him down to a mere lustful animal.

Your free hand rubs circles to your stomach and he can just about cum at the sight of you.

His cock throbs wildly and he forces your hand off of him with narrowed eyes. "Behave, little dove. I won't say it again."

You hide your smirk, laying back down for him.

He eyes you wearily for a second before continuing his dissent on your body. His fingers caress over your sodden lower lips and his name tumbles from your mouth with a quickness.

"You're messy." he prods, spreading your lips with his fingers and tapping your throbbing bundle of nerves with the pads of his fingers.

Your body jolts, bottom lip tucking between your teeth.

God, you've missed this.

You've missed him doting on you so eagerly.

Yoongi continues to take his time, enjoying how your entrance clenches around nothing.

You're a needy little thing and you're all his. The way it should be.

"Daddy, please!" you beg, rubbing circles over your distended skin.

"What's wrong, beautiful? You're too much of a slut to enjoy this? You want gratification now?" he quips, lowering his head to your core.

You can't even see him over your belly and it drives you absolutely mad. You can feel the puffs of hot, needy breath that pass his lips but it does nothing but earn more dripping arousal from your center.

"Such a pretty pussy you have," he purrs, suckling your swollen lips.

You gasp loudly, screwing your eyes shut.

He plays with your entrance, swirling the tip of his index finger around it until your racking with sobs above him.

Yoongi presses the tip of his tongue to your throbbing clit and he groans gently at the feeling.

"Shhh, my dove. Daddy is going to take care of you, I promise." he avows, lapping at your nub with slow strokes.

It's so pleasurable, but it's not enough. You're on the precipice and he keeps you there for what feels like eternity.

"God! Daddy, please!" you beg, bunching your hands up in his hair and tugging.

He hums in fake confusion, adoring how your body shakes before him.

He's good at the long game.

He thrives in it.

When he slips two fingers inside of your slick cunt, you're about ready to burst but he pulls away from your core with a devilish smirk.

"My pregnant wife is so needy," he jeers, curling his fingers with ease to the soft patch of nerves within you.

Your chest constricts, heaving for breath. Your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat and you feel yourself possibly going insane within his grasp.

Picking his face up between the apex of your thighs, the sight of his soaked chin and cheeks hurdles you to the precipice.

"Wanna cum, need to cum!" you chant, cupping your belly while you grind yourself down onto his fingers.

"You hold it," he orders sweetly.

You can only scoff and the animalistic pride within you snaps.

You sit up, as quickly as you can, before pushing him down on the bed.

"Baby," he warns you, pulling his fingers from your heat and entering them into his mouth.

"I need it!" you whine, straddling him.

His hands immediately hold your hips to protect you from any imminent danger you might face. He goes to chide you but when your soaked cunt glides against his hard, thick length, he can only take a sharp breath between his teeth.

"I missed your cock Daddy, I missed it so much," you whine, rocking your hips.

"Oh Christ," he murmurs, gliding his hands from your hips to the globes of your ass.

With every rock of your hips, your clit thrums pleasantly at the feeling of the head of his cock prodding against the bundle of nerves.

Your shaky hands grip at your breasts, swiping your thumbs against your leaking nipples until your sobbing with pleasure.

"You're so gorgeous, fuck," Yoongi curses, enraptured with the sight above him.

Your eyebrows furrow and you're losing yourself in the pleasure as your mouth drops open.

His hands knead at the supple flesh of your backside before rearing back and spanking you with a fierceness that you adore.

"Yes, more!" you gasp, sitting up and positioning his cock at your entrance.

"You're a little cock slut, you know that?" he seethes, leaning up on his elbows to kiss at your belly.

"Your cock slut, Daddy. I'm yours," you whimper, slowly sitting down on his length.

His mouth opens at the euphoric feeling of your warm, wet cunt sliding down on him and he can only fall back to the bed with a heady thump.

"Shit," he breathes out, looking up at you like you give him the universe.

You do.

You give him everything and anything that exceeds his expectations.

You take a second to adjust to his length, preening as the head of his cock prods against your soft cervix.

"Good girl, little dove." he bleats, running his fingertips over your outer thighs.

Yoongi can see the way you swallow thickly and he can tell how fucked out you already are with your eyelids being as heavy as they are and pride blooms in his chest.

"Want you to suckle," you beg, palming your breasts.

He can only scoff at the arousing thought, he's up in a flash, minding your stomach. His lips pluck and suckle at your sensitive skin until you're shaking like a leaf under his ministrations.

"Your cock feels so big in my pussy, feels so good," you purr, rocking your hips.

He moans against your breast, gripping your hips with needy hands.

The rhythm you set as he suckles from you is slow but the impending orgasm you've been denied comes back in waves. The head of his cock taps against the sweet spot inside of you with each jolt of your hips and you're losing your grasp on reality.

"D-Daddy!" you gasp, letting your brain free of any thoughts besides just how pleasurable he feels inside of you.

"That's it, baby girl. Take it. Take what you need from me." he announces, laying back down.

Your hands push down on his chest as you begin to pick up speed and he can only cry out your name like a man possessed.

"Jesus, just like that, little dove. Fuck!" he curses, spanking the globes of your ass until your skin is smarting.

Then you feel the precipice again, you feel yourself teetering.

Your mouth opens to give a silent scream and your eyes well up with tears.

He coos softly, running his fingers through his hair as if the pleasure he's receiving is truly unbelievable.

You groan loudly, pressing your hands beneath your stomach. "I'm-I'm-"

"Cum for me, little dove. I can feel how badly your cunt wants to milk my cock. Cum." he orders and your gasp echoes throughout the room.

Your hands rub comforting circles to your stomach while your hips rock at an unfound speed.

"Yoongi!" you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

Then -- euphoria.

Your orgasm explodes within you like a million shards of glass. With deafened ears and tear streaked cheeks, you don't even feel your husband lay you down on your back.

He fucks his cock so deeply inside of you that it brings you back to reality in waves.

"God, you look so beautiful taking what's yours, baby." he coos, sitting up.

You can only cry out gently when his strokes become erratic and deeper.

"You want me to cum inside you? You want to drip with me?" he inquires, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You nod incessantly, spreading your legs wider when you feel his cock throb within you.

"Yeah? You want to be my little cum slut? Get so full of my cum when you're already pregnant with my babies?" he seethes through his teeth.

"Y-Yes, want to feel your cum so badly," you hiccup, running your hands over his chest.

His eyes screw shut when your hips meet his every stroke.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming. God, your cunt is incredible!" he whines.

His hips give one last thrust, burying himself as deeply as possible before the warmth of his cum floods through your battered core.

You hum happily, rubbing your belly.

"I love you," he whispers, bending down and planting a passionate kiss to your lips.

"I love you, too." you reply, hooking your hand around the back of his neck.

After cleaning you up and situating yourselves back to normal, Yoongi pulls your body to cuddle against his. His fingers drift over your bare back and he sighs happily.

You're out like a light in mere seconds when you finally get comfy and he can only chuckle at your shallow breaths.

His hand comes to rest beneath his head and he can't begin to express how lucky he feels.

His attention falters to your stomach when he feels a gentle prodding against his hip. He smirks, kissing the top of your forehead and closing his eyes.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and you know better now than to rush to him whenever he shouts for you.

"Yes, baby?" you call to him, fixing your earrings.

"Want to play with Yumi!" he calls, peeking into your bedroom.

"We're going to see Yumi now." you reply, turning to him.

Your eyebrow raises as you look at your husband's spitting image. "Where are your shoes?" you ask your two year old.

"Dada said I don't have to wear them!" he beams, rolling on the floor with your corgi.

"Oh yes you do, you're not going over to Aunt Leena's house with no shoes on." you reply.

When your husband steps into the doorway, he knows he's made a mistake. Just the look you give him makes him want to run and hide.

"What?" he bleats.

Min Yoongi is obsessed with giving his son whatever he wants. He's obsessed with spoiling him and sometimes you have to look like the bad guy.

"He needs to put on shoes." you tell your husband.

Both of your boys frown at you and it's almost so ridiculous that you can barely contain the eye roll.

"Why?" Honggi chirps.

When you place your hand on your stomach, Yoongi nods. "Mommy's right, you need to wear shoes."

He's quick to avoid chastisement today.

"But why, dada?" your son inquires.

You love the 'why' phase… when it's directed at your husband.

"Because your little feet are gonna be cold and because mommy said so. And what did I tell you about when mommy says something?" your husband whispers conspiratorially to your son.

"That you do it! Mama has two babies a-and mad isn't good for babies!" Honggi says, sticking up two small fingers.

You can only snort, shutting the bathroom light off and leaning against the door frame.

"That's right, bud. So let's get you some shoes."

When your husband goes to leave the room, he widens his eyes apologetically at you and you can't help but giggle.

"Silly," you mumble, grabbing your purse.

Caleb's first birthday is a huge deal.

You know how much work his mother put into it and you know that it needs to be over the top and perfect for her to be thriving and happy with the day's events.

"Miss Thing!" Leena gasps, throwing herself out of the door to hug you.

"Hi Beena," you giggle, wrapping your arms around her.

Taehyung is right behind her with a smile plastered on his face.

"Happy birthday Caleb!" you gasp, taking him from Taehyung's arms.

Yoongi kisses your best friend on the cheek before looking over at her one year old son.

"Hey buddy! Happy birthday!" your husband cheers, watching as Caleb tucks his face into your neck.

It's always astounding to see how much of a one eighty Leena has done when it comes to Taehyung and her family.

You remember how adamant she was on not getting pregnant and not getting married but then when you gave birth to Honggi -- she wanted that.

And you completely understood it.

Now that your best friend is married and having a family, you can see how content and happy she is. It's something you're really proud of.

"Everyone is in the backyard." Leena announces, fixing Caleb's small suit.

"Yumi?!" Honggi screeches, looking past Taehyung.

"Yeah, Yumi too." Leena's husband quips with a laugh.

Yoongi snorts, following after his son.

"Miss Thing, I have to tell you, I would have never in a million years thought we'd see him today." your best friend blurts, guiding you into her mansion.

"Who?" you inquire, handing Caleb back to his father.

Leena's hands clamp down on your shoulders and her eyes widen. "Jin."

"Shut the fuck up," you gasp, pulling her towards the backyard.

There are a multitude of people in the backyard but your eyes find his tall, handsome stature easily.

He's standing by the fountain with his wife by his side and he looks in his element.

It's been months since you've seen your other best friend.

You aren't really sure why he dropped off the face of the Earth. You know he's probably been busy, you all have been.

But you know Leena has taken it the hardest. Jin has always meant something deeply to her so when he didn't return phone calls or texts… you know it burned her.

It's almost as if he feels your eyes on him the way he turns to look at you.

He gives you a warm smile, immediately leaving his wife to make his way across the large backyard.

Yoongi notices how your eyes get glassy when he looks away from Honggi and Jimin's daughter, Yumi. "Jimin, watch him." he orders, leaving to comfort you.

Now, Yoongi doesn't hate Jin, by any means. He respects him and in all honesty, appreciates him for helping him in his dire time of need.

But the CEO will be damned if he doesn't coddle you, his pregnant wife, to his side when you're emotionally distraught.

Seokjin is wary when he sees your husband loop his hand around your hip protectively.

"Shhh," Yoongi coos, hearing your gentle sniffles.

Leena on the other hand, just folds her arms, widening her eyes expectantly at your best friend.

"Hey guys," he bleats, running his hand over the back of his neck.

"That's it? All we get is a 'hey guys' from you?" Leena scoffs.

Jin blushes furiously, cupping his whisky tighter in his hand. "What do you want me to say, Beena?"

"How about a sorry, Kim Seokjin? That'll be the start. Then you can veer off into how apologetic you are for pushing us into the background for her." Leena sneers, nodding her head to Sera.

You take in how nervous Jin is and you absolutely hate it. You hate how small he's making himself look.

"I am sorry." he agrees, grabbing for your hands.

"Maybe you guys should take this inside," Taehyung whispers, looking over the party guests who have stopped their conversations to look over at all of you.

Leena doesn't even give an answer, only trudging back into her mansion with narrowed eyes.

Taehyung clears his throat awkwardly, walking with his son towards Jimin and Anna.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yoongi inquires, brushing some hair back behind your ear.

You nod immediately, wanting the comfort of your husband with you.

"Alright, my love." he promises, kissing your temple.

Seokjin chases after Leena and you can only sigh at the impending yelling you're about to hear.

"Miss Thing, please sit." Leena gushes, pointing to the couch inside the library.

You take a seat, watching Jin wade back in forth nervously like he's waiting for a scolding.

"Did you know that Y/N is pregnant again? That she's having twins?" Leena spits.

"Yes, I did. I'm very happy for her and her husband." Seokjin replies, helping you sit down.

Yoongi pours himself a small glass of scotch, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Do you fucking understand how sorely you've been missed?" Leena inquires to the handsome man as she sits down across from you.

Seokjin clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I-I do."

"Then where have you been?" you prod, folding your arms.

Your best friend leans back against the large wooden desk. "Listen guys, I've missed you guys so deeply. I need you to know this, okay? I'm sorry that I've been absent from your kids and your lives. I've been dying to spend time with you all."

"Okay. Then where have you been?!" Leena yelps, repeating your question.

Jin takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut. "I've been trying to start my own family. It's not easy! I've been taking Sera all over the world to different doctors and hospitals to try and see why she can't get pregnant! I've been depressed and down on myself until recently. I'm fucking sorry I abandoned you guys but I needed time to heal my heart."

The news resounds in your ears and you cuddle closer to your husband who rubs your shoulder with his thumb soothingly.

The smugness is wiped off of Leena's face within a second.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she whispers softly.

Jin's fingers card through his hair and with a frustrated huff, he lolls his head back.

"Because it's…it's heartbreaking and not what I want to bring to the table when you guys have families and lives already. I don't want to burden you guys with my troubles." he mumbles, spinning his wedding band with his thumb.

You take a sharp breath between your teeth, standing with the help of your husband who urges you to be careful.

"Jin," you whisper, hugging him tightly.

He stiffens at your touch before wrapping his arms around you. He sobs gently, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I did miss you guys, so much. I'm sorry," he cries loudly.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from us. You should feel comfortable to tell us anything and everything. I'm sorry if you didn't trust us enough with your worries." you murmur into his ear.

"No! I just… I was scared, I didn't want to trouble you both." he breathes, pulling away and cupping your face.

"Jinnie," Leena pouts, standing up and hugging the both of you.

"You're never a bother to us, don't ever think that." you coo, fixing his hair.

He takes a deep, calming breath, running his hands over your belly. "One of your kids is kicking me in the ribs." he mumbles.

You can only giggle, patting your eyes with a tissue.

"That's the least you deserve for not trusting us with your fears," Leena scolds him gently.

He nods, exhaling sharply until his cheeks are puffing out.

"So is she?" your best friend asks him.

"What?" he mumbles.

"Is she pregnant?" Leena inquires.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, tilting his head. "Something like that."

Your eyes drift slowly over the perfectly manicured lawn watching Honggi offer to share a toy truck with Yumi. His smile is the spitting image of Yoongi’s and it makes you sigh happily. You lean against the arm of the lawn chair, resting your hand against your cheek.

You can barely believe how happy you’ve become over the past two years.

Everything just falls into the right place, everything just fits like a perfect complete puzzle.

Honggi turns to you, flailing his hand wildly and you can only giggle. Waving back, your heart expands to the size of the universe.

Yoongi laughs at something loudly, drawing your attention. You watch him sling his arm over Taehyung’s shoulder and you can only snort at the sight.

You can remember when you never heard his laugh, you didn’t know what it sounded like for quite a while and then… once he began to laugh, it never seemed to end.

That’s something you revel in, your husband’s happiness is yours well.

It gives you great pride to see him beaming from ear to ear. And you don’t think it often but --  you got him here. You got him to this state of happiness.

It’s your best artwork, yet.

“Hey Y/N.”

You look away from your husband to the one person you’d never thought you’d speak to.

“Sera… hey,” you breathe, looking up at her flawless form.

“H-How are you?” she inquires, sipping her water nervously.

You haven’t seen here in two years. She looks good, that isn’t hard for her. Something about her seems calmer and more poised then when you knew her.

“Can I sit?” she asks gently, running her hand over the back of her neck.

“Please,” you insist, sitting up straighter.

You can feel eyes on you and you can only imagine who it is but you don’t dare look away from the actress before you.

While you weren’t her biggest fan, she’s made Jin happy over the past two years and you can’t fault her for that. He hasn’t loved anyone since Leena and you can see that his heart has bloomed since being with this woman.

“No drink?” you quip, pointing at her water.

“I thought, y’know, since my surrogate can’t drink then I shouldn’t either.” she shrugs.

You don’t know what to say if you’re being honest. It must be a sore subject…

“Yeah-” you breathe awkwardly.

“I’m not upset about it, we can talk about it.” she announces, putting her hand to your shoulder.

Sera in all the time you’ve known her has never touched you and you’re surprised at how normal it is, honestly.

“I’m sorry that you… y’know… you’ve had a difficult time.” you say honestly.

You can’t imagine how hard Sera and Jin have been trying, how many hospitals and specialists they’ve gone to, how much heartbreak they’ve gone through.

“At least I’m getting a baby at all, right? I always used to be so angry about the whole situation… Maybe that’s why I was so mean to you.” she admits, carding her fingers through her long, now blonde hair.

You hum thoughtfully, looking up at the dusky sky. “I mean it mustn't have been easy for you either. I came into Yoongi’s life and flipped it upside down. You were comfortable with the situation and I just spun things around like a top.”

“Well… yeah, true. But if you didn’t come into Yoongi’s life then I wouldn’t have been able to become a better person and find the person that’s right for me.” she avows, looking over at you.

Her words resound through you and your eyes widen just the slightest bit. She’s really different these days, huh?

“Well, I came over to say I’m sorry for treating you terribly the whole first time you were pregnant, it was in bad taste and I was so selfish back then that I couldn’t begin to understand how horrible that could be for you.”

“I accept your apology.” you reply, giving her a small smile.

She breathes a sigh of relief, letting her body go lax in the chair beside you. “Oh good, I was so nervous to talk to you. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack or something.” she gasps.

You find yourself giggling and she snorts softly.

“You’re kid is cute,” she comments, watching him run over to you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, widening your eyes at Honggi curiously as he stops in front of you.

“Mama!” he cheers, holding up his paint covered fingers.

“Yes, baby?” you murmur, pushing his hair back.

“I’m painter like you! Look!” he squeals, tugging your hand.

You look over at Sera apologetically, standing up to follow your son.

“It was nice to see you Sera, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” you call back to her.

She smiles warmly, giving you a gentle wave goodbye.

Jin could have done worse.

Lowering your head, you look at the picture that your son has painted. The fingerpaint is thick and blobbish but you can see a few distinct shapes that stick out to you.

You don’t say anything at first, letting him finish a few small details that he thinks are important. He gives you his gummy smile, seemingly proud of himself and it makes you smile too.

“It’s very nice, baby. I can see how much work you put into it.” you coo.

“It’s mama and dad, Honggi and baby!” he beams, picking up the picture which is almost too heavy for him with all the paint on it.

Your husband sweeps in beside you, planting a wet kiss to your cheek and taking the painting out of your hands.

“Mommy is having two babies, not just one.” Yoongi reminds him, pointing at your stomach.

Honggi nods fervently, opening and closing his small hands demanding the picture back from his father.

Your husband snorts gently, lowering the picture for his son. You can barely contain the ridiculous giggle that tries to escape you as he draws a black circle next the one already painted.

"Two!” he cheers, sticking up two of his paint covered fingers.

“Good job, bud.” Yoongi chuckles, kissing the top of his head.

“I saw that interaction. You okay?” your husband inquires softly into your ear.

You hum in agreement, wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head down on his shoulder. “Better than okay,” you murmur, feeling his lips caress over the top of your head.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Yoongi inquires, pulling over the car.

You can’t help but laugh at his worried expression. “He’s fine,” you promise, putting your hand on his knee, “we can go out on a date without him around us all the time. Maya’s got it. Honggi loves her.”

He shuts off the engine, turning to you with a pout spread over his face. “I just miss him, I didn’t get to read him a bedtime story.”

Your heart is warm and you can’t help the giggle you give. “It’s our anniversary, besides it’s just for a few hours.”

He picks up your hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Happy anniversary, little dove.”

“Happy anniversary, babe.” you reply, with a smile.

The inside of Magic Shop is pristine like always, you’re so surprised that Jin has kept it exactly the same as two years ago. He always loved to change things up but you realize that he probably got so busy since you’ve last been here, he probably hasn’t had time for anything.

The music is quieter than normal and there isn’t a soul in the club. Which makes you understand immediately that Yoongi rented the whole place out.

“You shouldn’t have,” you hiss, giving Hyun a small wave.

“Of course I should have, you deserve the world, baby. Plus, loud music isn’t good for the babies,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

Your eyes immediately land on the black velvet curtain and the memories of first meeting Yoongi flood through you like water.

“Thanks,” your husband murmurs, grabbing a whisky from Hyun.

When you pull back the curtain, you can only smile at the same leather booth from that fated day.

“Jesus, it even smells the same in here.” Yoongi breathes, running his fingers over the top of the couch.

This room holds so many memories for you but nothing beats the one with your husband.

“God, it’s like it was yesterday. I can still remember that black dress you were wearing,” your husband chirps, sitting down in the same spot he did two years ago.

He pats his lap, setting down his whisky onto the floor and you’re absolutely gobsmacked by how much this feels like dejavu.

“I’m a little big,” you murmur, sitting down slowly.

“Never, you’re gorgeous, little dove.” Yoongi coos, wrapping his arms around you.

His warm hands caress your practically bare thighs and when he looks at you, you can see the sheer love and devotion in his eyes.

“My little dove,” he breathes, drifting his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

You can remember just how smoking hot you thought this man was, how intrigued you were by him in an instant. You remember every single second of your time in this back room. You remember every minute of your days when you found out you were pregnant and how absolutely scared you were.

You can remember his good times and his bad when he was working out his feelings about you.

Nothing has left your mind and you treasure each and every memory -- because they make up who you are. They make up your life.

And it’s perfect. Because you have him.

“You were a good girl that I wanted to break so badly,” your husband announces, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Well… you did that,” you quip, humming when he presses his face to the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, little dove, really. Thank you so much for loving me and giving me such a wonderful family,” Yoongi gasps.

“Thank you for opening up to me and showing me that our love could blossom into something as perfect as this.” you reply, running your fingertips over his arms.

When he lifts his head, you can see how glassy his eyes are with tears.

“God, I love you, little dove.” he whimpers.

“I love you too.” you reply, kissing him softly.

His lips are plush and soft against yours and you can feel the tears that careen down his cheeks until they’re soaking into your skin. He’s so gentle with you, drifting his hands from your back to your distended stomach.

“My wife,” he chuckles, capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “my beautiful, gorgeous, powerful wife who has given me enough love to last eons. I love you so much, little dove, it hurts me.”

There are one hundred and fifty eight ways to say ‘I love you.’ And, they all pertain to Min Yoongi.

He’s a gentle soul and a loving husband that holds high standing with billions of people worldwide. He is sweet, wonderful and a perfect man at the end of the day. And now, everyone sees this side to him.

In the media he is praised and renowned for being a fantastic father and an equally fantastic husband. And to you, nothing could ever be more true,

It was March 23rd, when you saw him and met him. You tasted the finest of liquors and smelt the smoke of the richest Cuban cigars.

It was March 23rd when your life had truly begun.

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer​, @imluckybitches​, @slothykrueger​, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland​, @rspbrryy​, @iv-bts​, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts​, @mxxngxdss​, @bluewhale52​, @milesjeon11​, @diamonddia-mond​, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​, @bts-7beauts​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​, @eclectically-esoteric​, @nikkiordonez12​, @kaitswrld​, @skamlover200​, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria​, @jikooksgirl19​, @hobbledehoy26​, @singular-itae​, @dchimminie​, @lowlifeoeuvre​, @sugaslittlekookies​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​, @softysuho​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​, @betysotelo18​, @jeonmisha​, @iwanttohitmyself​, @ayyyocee​, @neverthefirstchoice​, @itsbangtanoclock​, @little7bitchh​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​, @deathkat657​, @firstlovesuga-93​, @namjoonia​, @paperpurple​, @muzikabijou​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​, @kleff03​, @ruinsofangels​, @brightwingr5​, @leekanchol​, @rkivemagic​, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​, @melaninkpops​, @y00ngisbabygirl​, @ungodlyjoon​, @prochnost513​, @dunixxd​, @athenakyle​, @igotnotype​, @chxmachxps​, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog​, @alpaca1612​, @ohcarolinamin​, @thegreatestsushi​, @eltrain80​, @btsmylife21​, @deeepvibes​, @httpminyg​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​, @moonlitmyg​, @justzeera​​, @absolutefantrash​, @whocaresarchives​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​​, @bt21chim​​, @flowerboyhobi​​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​��

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[chromes-corner]

Can I’m have pure vanilla cookie x reader who is overprotective over sorbet shark cookie and ask him if they can adopt them please sorbet they have being alone in the ocean for years I’m want them to be happy headcanons please

Aww, that's an adorable idea! I just want them to be happy too <3!! Thank you so much for your request!!

---

And Three Makes a Shiver

Pure Vanilla/Reader

Notes: Familial fluff; headcanon format

Content Warnings: minor injury mention

A/N: A group of sharks is called a shiver so I thought that would be a cute title :)

You’re taking a nice evening walk with Pure Vanilla down at the beach. Most of the time, the two of you walk through the streets of the Kingdom and browse the markets, but tonight you decide to shake it up.

It’s a good thing you did, too, because as you’re walking, the two of you can’t help but notice something in the distance.

Approaching it, you think nothing of it. It’s assumedly just a rock or a piece of ocean debris washed to shore.

However, as you get closer, you notice that the “debris” is particularly round and small and… breathing?!

Your walk turns into a run as the two of you dash down the shoreline to the little beached cookie.

Pure Vanilla inspects the cookie, who seems to be very young, and determines that they’ve got a concussion, supposedly from hitting something in the water — judging by how soggy they are — and ended up on the beach while they were unconscious.

The two of you rush the little one to your home and lay them carefully on your bed.

Pure Vanilla’s staff is aglow with healing magic. When he has allowed enough magic to travel through the cookie’s system, he tells you they just need rest now.

You refuse to leave the cookie’s side, however. They look so young and helpless, and your parental instincts are alight and fierce.

You stay by their side all night. Pure Vanilla stays with you and brings you tea. He offers to take over for a while so you can rest, but you refuse. Pure Vanilla is more worried about you than the young one at this point!

Sometime in the early morning, the cookie wakes up.

They immediately start babbling in some incoherent language (if it even is a language) and the only thing you’re able to make out is that their name is Sorbet Shark Cookie.

You ask them about the whereabouts of their home and their family, and only that makes them go quiet. Sorbet Shark solemnly shakes their head.

Of course, they immediately perk back up when Pure Vanilla brings them a plate of jellies. Poor thing was famished.

While they’re eating, you pull Pure Vanilla aside and inform him of the situation. Your heart aches for the kid.

Pure Vanilla gives you a little touch on the shoulder, an action you know signifies agreement. His care for others runs deeper than anyone you’ve ever met, after all, so of course he’d be thinking the same thing you are!

The two of you inform Sorbet Shark that they can stay as long as they want. Their eyes light up and they babble in gratitude and excitement. Your heart, like your family, grows a little bigger.

Eventually, you paint the spare bedroom an ocean blue and move in all sorts of pirate-themed furniture.

Walks to the beach are now more frequent – and more exciting! Sorbet Shark likes to race along the shoreline and then race back with a seashell or a little crab to show to you and Pure Vanilla.

This is also where you learned of their shark form – a tale for a different time, that one. Let’s just say you almost crumbled on the spot at that surprise.

Beware when it rains – they will splash in every puddle they come across.

Sorbet will occasionally have nightmares about sea monsters, so they’ll find their way to your room and burrow into the bed between you and Pure Vanilla. Not that the two of you mind, though.

Pure Vanilla attempts to teach Sorbet healing magic, but the cookie is a bit too hyperactive to focus. Maybe when he’s older, PV…

Yes, you did have to buy a child leash for them.

Yes, they did try to chew through the child leash.

Most of the time, however, they’re calm enough to just hold your hand when you go places.

All in all, Sorbet Shark may be a bit of a pain at times, but they love their adopted parents, and you and Pure Vanilla love them as your own.

[idamariaw]

A one-shot where you meet a british man, a bit clumsy for his own good sometimes but at least it brought him to you.

This is dedicated to @atlafan, Happy Birthday 🌸

The air was humid, warm and had a strong scent of your favourite jasmin bodywash as you carefully stepped out of the bathtub to continue to get ready for your date tonight. A date that you’ve been looking forward to all week and made it way easier to get through classes and exams, even though you didn’t know much about Harry yet. That was his name, Harry Styles.

You met him just over a month ago in the coffee shop near your apartment where you spend most off your afternoons to study or read, the earthy and warm environment having a calming effect and the staff always sweet. You were reading an article for your course in political science, Stevie Nicks ’Wild Heart’ playing with your notes and books neatly in a pile by your side as eveything sudden flew to the ground with a large thud. It startled you a bit and you took your headphones off to register what caused the mess while you heard a voice beneeth you along your dropped belongings,

”Shit! I-i’m so sorry. My guitar bag got stuck in the corner of your books, I really didn’t mean to.”

A mop of chocolate curls cought your eyes while speaking to you with his deep voice and keeping to apologize even though it didn’t matter, you knew it was an accident. After picking up your things he got up to his feet and you got the oppurtunity to really look at him now. Tall, broad build at the shoulders, skinny jeans with a button up in different patterns, curls to his chin and the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

”I’m so fuckin’ clumsy, first time at this coffee shop and this happens.” Now you noticed he had an accent, a british one? Well if your cheeks weren’t burning before they sure were now.

”Oh no it’s okay! I promise. Accidents happen, i’m pretty clumsy myself so you’re not alone. I was getting zoned out on my work anyway so you helped me with that” You said with a smile to reasure you’re not irritated or anything.

”Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but your muffin got on the ground as well. Let me buy you another please?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit and pouted his heartshaped lips and you just couldn’t say no.

”Oh and I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”

After that you asked him to sit down with you and tried to give him a good impression of the shop although it’s caotic beggining. You learned that he actually was brittish, was majoring in English Literature, wrote music and sang covers with his band.

You met him every now and then the following weeks and after sharing a carrot cake with a latte a few days ago he finally got the courage to ask you what you thought about for weeks,

”Would you be willing to see me outside this coffee shop for dinner on Friday? Please?”

And here you were, freshly out the bath and in your closet looking for an outfit. It was early autumn and Harry said he’d pick you up at 6, so a leo printed long skirt and a sage green knitted sweather along with maroon converse and a bamboo knitted purse with some jewelry would work. A pretty little matching lace bralette and panties underneath just in case things would go that way. Just as you put on a layer of your strawberry flavoured lip gloss you heard the doorbell ring and your heart skipped a beat. You looked over yourself once more before getting your purse and rushed to the door.

There he stood, so good looking it almost made you angry, with his signature black skinny jeans, a black button up, brown boots, a tan coat and hair up in a bun.

”Hello darling, I’m sorry if i’m a tad early. These are for you by the way.” He came in for a hug and kissed your cheek as he handed you a bouquet of red roses and you got a chance to take in his strongly scented perfume that consumed your senses.

”No I was just ready so it’s okay! Wow thank you, i’ve never gotten flowers before. I’m just gonna put these in a vase and I’ll be right with you.” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he leaned against the treeshold.

”Really? Hm I’ll remember that then. I’ll just wait by the car, we’re going for a drive about 20 minutes away if that’s okay. Take your time darling.”

As said, he waited by the car and opened the door for you on the passenger side and then you were on you way.

”Can I have a guess at where we’re going? Dinner somewhere maybe?” You asked even though you didn’t really have any but you’ve always loved surprises and he didn’t even know that.

”Well you can guess darling but i’m not sure you’re gonna figure it out that easy. But yes, we will have dinner in a way.” He answered you with a crooked smirk, showcasting his dimples.

After the 20 minute drive he parked by a black steele double gate leading the way to something you were quite familiar with but haven’t visited in ages.

”The botanical garden?” You asked surprised while Harry opened the door for you to step out.

”Yeah, is that alright with you? I figured as you like the atmosphere at the coffee shop so much this could be nice.” He said a bit shyly.

”Are you kidding me? Ofcourse I love it, I used to be here as a kid with my parents a lot but haven’t been in ages!”

”Thank god, I got nervous there for a second. I’m just gonna get some things in the car but you can start walking up and I’ll meet you at the front.” He said as he started to pick some things out from the back.

You felt giddy and excited as you approach the building and started to walk up to the front like Harry told you. It was when you came to the entrance that you noticed it’s closed and locked. Did Harry know this? Then you felt a hand at the small of your back and the smell of his perfume announced his presens as you turned around and what you saw made you melt to a puddle inside. The guitarbag was secured aganist his back and in his arms he held a picnic basket with a blanket and filled with all kind of goods.

”An evening picnic at the botanical garden with some live music, can’t go wrong with that can we?” He said with a cheeky shrug even though you could sense the nerves in his eyes.

”Seriously? That’s so nice Harry, oh my god. It’s to much to be honest. But how do we get in? And is it even aloud?” You didn’t want to doubt him or his plans but you couldn’t help it as it was actually closed.

”Hm don’t need to doubt me darling. I know the owners son as I helped him with a poem analysis in our class so he owned me a favour.” He explanied as he fished up the key in his coatpocket and opened the door with ease.

The setting and environment was everything you remembered from when you were younger and visited this place, green and thriving plants and vegetation everywhere, even a little pond in the middle with a fountain. The ceiling was made of pure glass so you could clearly see the sky that began to darken and stars starting to shine through, it was breathtaking.

”I was thinking we could set up and get up these stairs close to the roof to we get the best view.” You heard Harry speak up as he lead the way up to a white spiral stair that got you to a spot near the roof to spread out everything and sit comfortably.

He really didn’t spare anything on the food or drink, a nice rosé wine, fruits and berries of all kinds and a fancy charcuterie board.

”Harry I hope you know that you didn’t really need to do so much for our date, a romcom with a burger and fries would have been just as nice. But I really appriciate this, thank you so much.” So said honestly because it was true, just being with him was more than enough.

”Thank you for being honest darling but it’s not to much. You deserve the effort and I want to show you how important this is for me, how important you are for me. Feed me a strawberry please? And do you have any song requests?” He said as he brought up the guitar from its bag.

”Maybe ’Leather and Lace’ by Stevie Nicks if you know that one?” You asked softly as you brought the strawberry to his pouty heartshaped lips and your throat got a bit dry when he hummed against the fruit as he took a bite.

”Mmh, thank you darling. And yes I know that one, a pretty big Stevie fan myself actually.”

He said as he started to play the strings on the guitar, the melody started to fill the garden and softly singing the lyrics made everything complete. It was almost like the man in front of you couldn’t be real with how perfect he looked.

”You’ve been staring at my lips quite a lot this evening.”He said taking out of your trance and making you blush down your neck.

”W-what? Oh i’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You started to explain yourself but he cut you off quickly,

”Shh, no darling it didn’t make me uncomforable at all. Come here please.” He made grabby hands at you as you sat opposite to him on the blanket so you could come up to his lap.

”I promise you it didn’t. I’ve been looking at you too you know, so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. So happy and thankful, proper cuite you are. Must have the sweetest mouth to. Would you let me have a taste?” He said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lips almost touching yours.

”Yes Harry please.” You almost whimpered against his mouth until you felt his lips softly pressing aganist yours. You shifted in his lap to wrap your fingers in the nape of his neck below the bun to deepen the kiss, Harry leaning back to take a breath.

”Tastes like strawberrys darling, gonna give me a toothache with this sweet mouth of yours.”

You continued to kiss for a while and as he moved down to your neck he felt you shift against him more and he got the courage to lay you down on the blanket and hover over you to get better acess to the rest of you.

”Can I take this off? Or will you be cold?” He asked while playing with the hem of your sweather.

”No I want it off please, I won’t be cold.” You barely finished the sentence before the sweather was off and Harry started to kiss from you neck down to the crease of your breasts.

”Smells like flowers darling, and so soft. Perfect tits you have.” His raspy voice sent a shudder down your core the same time as he carefully touched your breasts and started to kiss them through your lacy bralette.

”What’s this hm? A fuckin nipple piercing? Almost as if you’re tryin to kill me, fuck.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that one in your right nipple and he sucked and nipped at it as a man obsessed.

Being teased and played with for so long now made you whimper again and you tried to buck your hips into him for more friction now as you started to ache from your lower region.

Harry noticed this and made the decision to use this against his favor.

”Do you want my mouth somewhere else darling? Seems like your aching pretty bad. Or fingers maybe? Need you to talk to me.”

”Yes please, I want your mouth on me so bad. Please Harry.” If you weren’t so worked up you would feel embarassed for your neediness but you just couldn’t care right now.

”So polite, ofcourse I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, you’ll have. Can I take the skirt off?”

You nodded quickly and he got down so he was facing your core and budged up the skirt around your hips. He kissed your mound over your panties and looked up at you with a cheeky smirk.

”Matching knickers, hm? You’re flattering me darling, being so pretty for me.”

”I-i was just being hopeful…” You let out a breathy laugh at his observation feeling the blush creeping to your cheeks again.

”I was to if i’m being honest but I didn’t want to push you into anything, i’m so thankful that you let me see you like this but I really want to take these of as pretty as they may be and taste you properly. Smells so fuckin’ good I’m going insane.” He took the panties of and let out a low growl while spreading you open with his fingers and see how you were glistening from the wetness under the starlight. Going in for a long stripe with his tounge from your slit to your swollen nub, sucking and nibbling at it just the right way to make you give out a loud shaky moan. He continued playing with your clit with his tounge and lapping up all the sweetness he could get while he felt your legs starting to shake against his head and your moans only got louder.

”Making such pretty noices for me darling, keep going. Need to know that I make you feel good. Want my fingers as well while I play with your clit? Already so swollen for me.”

”Yes fuck i’m gonna cum soon, please Harry I want your fingers please…”It was all you could say before you felt two of his fingers press against your slit and tounge going back to your clit. Your hands found his hair and he let put a growl against you as you tugged on it harder than you intendent, small strais of hair coming out from the bun.

”You can cum darling, I’ve got you. Being so good for me and letting go like this. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, so so fucking good for me. Let me have it, please.” He continued to thrust his fingers as he said his dirty words and that sent you off the edge and gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Small tears rolled down your cheeks and Harry kissed your inner thighs to help you come down. He licked his fingers clean and covered you again with the skirt, going up to face you and kiss your lips.

”Mmh, hi pretty girl. Felt good?” He asked nuzzling against your nose and stroking your cheek.

”Oh my god, yes. You’re literally perfect Harry, thank you.” You closed your eyes and cuddled into his side as he laid beside you looking up to the stars against the glass ceiling.

”No I’m not darling but thank you. What do you say about cleaning up and head over to mine, watch a movie and I can make you a cuppa? Sounds good?” He asked you before whispering quitly to himself ”And thank god for me being a clumsy fool.”

[writefightandflightclub]

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees​. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to  read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl​ @casifer-is-king​ (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman​

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.  

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that��.” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.  

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.  

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.  

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.  

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

[heroloverangel]

Cloud City

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled filth for some surprise Sad Boy Hours.

You’re six years old when Oboro Shirakumo drops into your life. Quite literally, in fact.

It’s your first day of school, and you’re terrified. Your family only moved to this city a few weeks ago, and you haven’t had a chance to meet any of the other kids in the neighborhood. So here you stand in the school yard, shyly watching from behind a tree as your new classmates play together. You’re lonely, but too nervous to approach them. Your tiny mind is on the verge of a breakdown and you can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. “Don’t cry,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m not a baby, don’t cry.” You sniffle, but your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping above you.

There’s a boy floating on a cloud several feet over your head, one hand grasping a branch to keep himself steady. “Hi!” He grins down at you, and you look back with wide eyes. “I’m Oboro! Wanna be friends?” You gawk up at him; you’ve never seen a quirk like that before. Even his hair looks like a fluffy cloud in the breeze. 

“Okay,” you agree after a few more seconds of confused staring. Your new friend gives you a thumbs up, immediately loses his focus, and the cloud dissipates underneath him. Both of you scream as he comes crashing to the ground, landing on your back. You’re rewarded with some impressive scrapes to both your knees, and him with both his front teeth knocked out. You’re inseparable from that moment on.

You’re the best of friends through elementary, but things begin to change once you hit middle school. It’s cute when you’re six and happily tell your parents that you’re going to get married when you grow up. It’s just awkward when you hit puberty and start to discover that your feelings for your best friend suddenly aren’t so cute anymore. The two of you grow apart with separate friends and different interests, but still make it a priority to walk home together every day. 

“High school admissions are due soon,” he points out during one of these walks. It’s been storming all day, and the two of you huddle under the same umbrella in a half-hearted attempt to stay dry. He’s hit a growth spurt over the years and towers above you now; it’s hard for both of you to stay out of the rain if you’re not nestled suspiciously close together. “You figure out where you’re applying yet?”

You shrug, stepping wide to avoid a puddle that he ignores. “Probably just Endor. It’s close, and they’ve got a pretty decent reputation.” You nudge him with your shoulder. “You’re going for UA, right?”

It’s never been a secret that Shirakumo wants to be a hero, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be great at it. He stops walking and you look at him, surprised to see his expression so discouraged.. “Yeah, of course. You’re not? Their general studies class is supposed to be one of the best, too.”

You glance away. “Too much pressure, I think. And it’d be hard, going to school in a different city where I wouldn’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” You’ve both had a grip on the umbrella, but now his fingers wrap tightly around your hand and squeeze.

“Oboro…” You’re not used to him having such a serious look on his face, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stare into yours.

“Come with me.” It’s not an order, it’s a plea, and your chest feels tight at the thought of disappointing him. You swallow hard and nod. It won’t hurt to apply, you think. You probably won’t even get in.

Shirakumo pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face and leans down to press his lips against yours. Your first kiss isn’t perfect; his neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle to make up for your height difference, your nose bumps awkwardly into his as you shift, a car drives by too fast and splashes both of you with frigid water. Still, when he pulls away his smile is as warm and bright as the sun. You’ll gladly follow him to UA. You’ll gladly follow him to hell and back if it makes him happy.

He’s accepted into the hero course without a problem, but you make him promise that he’ll go even if you fail. You’re more shocked than anyone when you open the envelope to find an acceptance letter welcoming you to UA, and you finally allow yourself to feel excited. You’ll be going to the best school in the country, and you’ll be there with your favorite person in the world. For the first time you won’t be in the same class, but you’ll still be close enough to watch him reach his dreams. 

The first few weeks of high school are a whirlwind of chaos before you settle into a routine. You have to be at the train station before dawn; every morning Shirakumo meets you outside your house, still half-asleep and groggy as you walk. You split something simple for breakfast most days while you ride. When you’re lucky enough to find two open seats together, you can manage a well-deserved nap slumped against each other’s shoulders. Your classes are tough but with enough effort you manage to do well once you form a study group going with the other girls in your class. They’re friendly, and they’re both impressed and jealous to learn that you’re already dating a hero student. They swoon when he appears at your side on the first day of school to buy you lunch, and you can’t help but gloat just a little at your good fortune.

The hero course is even busier than general studies, and you don’t get to see much of your boyfriend during school hours. It’s nearly a month into the term before he catches sight of you at lunch again and practically sprints over, flanked by two classmates you recognize from the stories he’s told you on the ride home every day. “Guys,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder. “This is my girl! The one I’ve been telling you about.” Your heart skips a beat at being called his girl, and knowing he’s been gushing about you to his friends. Yamada’s a bright, loud ball of energy when he introduces himself, while Aizawa barely mumbles his name and looks like he’s been dragged over against his will. They both seem nice, and you’re happy he’s found some good friends to work with.

Everything goes surprisingly well for your first year at UA, and your second seems like it’ll be just as good. It’s late one night, several months into the school year, when you’re woken by a tapping at your bedroom window. This isn’t the first time Shirakumo’s snuck you out of your house, but the window gets harder to crawl out of every year and you’re glad that graduation isn’t too far off. “Hey, come look at the stars with me. They’re really pretty tonight.” It’s not like he needs to give you the excuse, but you can see he has a point.

Ten minutes later you’re laying on a cloud together, floating a few feet over the power lines in your neighborhood. It’s cold up there, and you cuddle together for warmth as you watch the stars overhead. You know more about the sky than him, and he’s happy to listen while you point out a few things above you. A chilly breeze blows through your thin pajamas and makes you shiver, and he pulls you in closer to share his heat. “Was all of this just an excuse to get me alone up here?” You laugh, kissing his smiling lips.

“Not all of it,” he jokes with a smirk. “We’re past the halfway point this year already. Just one more, can you believe it?” You curl up close and listen to him chatter about his big plans for the future. You’ve heard this all before; he’s always so excited about the idea of opening that hero agency with Aizawa and Yamada. “I figure we’ll do the sidekick think for awhile, work up some solid experience, y’know? Then it’ll be smooth sailing when we break off on our own after that. Four, maybe five years?” You nod, running your fingers through his familiar fluffy hair. “And then once things settle with the agency, we can get married if you want,” he announces with only the faintest blush betraying his nerves.

“Oboro, what?” You bolt into a sitting position, gawking at him with wide eyes. Sure you’ve thought about the future you might have together, but the two of you have never talked about it before. “You can’t just spring that on me out of nowhere!”

He folds his arms behind his head, totally unconcerned. “It’s not really out of nowhere, is it? You know I’ve been in love with you since we were six, right?”

This boy is ridiculous. “Me too, but still! Isn’t this a little sudden? There’s so much more to talk about if you want to get married.”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it won’t be for a couple of years. We’ve got plenty of time to talk it over.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back down to rest your head against his chest. “I’ll wait for you, as long as you want.” You stay like this for a few minutes, mulling the proposal over in your head. “Just think about it for a couple years, okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “Okay.” You’re already warming up to the thought of marrying him. You’re seventeen, and you’ve been together for eleven years now. You can give him another five. Or ten. Or fifty, if that’s what he wants. In your heart you already know you’ve decided on an answer, and you murmur it into his ear later as he’s helping you climb back through the window into your bedroom. He’s beaming with happiness as he kisses you goodnight and flies off. You’re too giddy with love to sleep the rest of the night.

If you’d known what was coming only a week later, you never would have said goodbye. He promised to call you after his internship the night before, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep instead as soon as he got home. You’re not worried until he doesn’t show up in the morning to walk with you, even after you call him twice with no answer and wait until the last possible minute to leave on your own. You arrive at school just as the final bell rings, and it’s a bit of a relief when you catch a glimpse of Aizawa looking even more tired than he normally does. They must have had a really tough time on their patrol, you assume, and Oboro just decided to take a well-deserved day off.

Your day is uneventful until lunch, when you hear your name called to the office. The principal sits there with your homeroom teacher and the counselor, all of them looking grim. A lump forms in your throat; you’ve got no idea what you could have done. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. We understand that you’re particularly close with Oboro Shirakumo from the hero class.”

You nod. “Yeah, we’re dating. Um, actually we’re kind of engaged now, I guess?” Your stomach drops at the sad expressions facing you. “Did...did something happen? I haven’t seen him all day. Is he hurt?”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the answer. “He was killed in an encounter with a villain yesterday. I’m sorry for your loss.”

You want to argue, insist there’s been some mistake, but the words don’t come. A sudden sense of numbness sweeps through you as it sinks in, and it feels like everything within you shuts down. Your brain doesn’t process the voices offering you sympathy and compassion. Your lungs refuse to take in air. You’d swear that your heart itself stops beating in some attempt to defend itself. You’re not even aware of your movements as you stand and leave the room while your teachers are mid-speech. You need to get out of there. You need to be alone. You need to breathe, but you can’t. You’re on autopilot as you rush down the empty hall, if you can get up to the roof there’ll be fresh air-

Completely blinded by your grief, you collide hard with another body and almost fall before hands grab your shoulders to steady you. “Sorry,” you gasp through the lump in your throat. “I just-” You blink back your tears and stop when you recognize him. Up close, he looks even worse than usual. His eyes are red and hollow, the dark bags under them could pass as bruises. It’s obvious he hasn’t slept all night, you can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Aizawa,” you croak, your voice cracking on the syllables. He doesn’t say anything, only gives your shoulder a squeeze, and something inside you completely breaks.

“Oboro, he’s...” is all you can manage through your tears. You fists ball into Aizawa’s jacket as you sob against his chest, and he doesn’t stop you. He knows there’s no comforting you; the only thing he can do is let you use his shirt as a tissue while you mourn. You’re vaguely aware that a bell rings to resume class, but you ignore it. You can’t bring yourself to do anything except cry until there’s nothing left, and he stands there holding your shoulders to keep you upright. It’s the best way anyone can help you right now.

An eternity later, you wear yourself out. Your throat feels raw, your eyes are burning, and your fingers hurt from the grip you’ve had on his uniform. “Thanks,” you manage out, and he nods silently. He’s not the most exciting, but you’ve always liked Aizawa’s calm personality as a match to your boyfriend’s unstoppable energy. Your own emotions are a train wreck, and you don’t think you could handle being around anyone else after that news. “I’m glad he had you,” you muse out loud.

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly with a shrug before fixing his wrinkled jacket. “You should get back to class.” Aizawa walks off before you can think of anything else to say.

You don’t go back to class. The other students have noticed something’s off, and rumors are beginning to spread around campus already that there’s a new, empty space in the hero course. You grab your bag and head for the exit as fast as you can, ignoring everyone else along the way. You spend the rest of the week at home; your parents allow it once they learn what happened. It’s a struggle to get through the first month without Shirakumo’s presence hanging over you like a cheerful little cloud, and the rest of the year doesn’t get any easier. Your friends do their best to console you, but it’s a losing battle when you feel his absence every minute of your day. It’s all too familiar, too easy to see the missing piece that’s been a part of your life for so long. You transfer to Shiketsu for your final year, where no one knows about Loud Cloud and you aren’t stuck going through a routine that’s been irreparably broken.

It’s an uphill fight. You force yourself to do well in school, because it’s what he’d want for you. You throw yourself into work and establish a good career, because it’s what he’d want for you. You make yourself move past your loss and date other men, because it’s what he’d want for you. By the time you’re 31 you’ve got a divorce under your belt, a sad excuse for a social life, and a cat with fluffy white fur; you loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You’re not entirely satisfied with how your life has turned out, but it could be worse. You can go entire weeks now without thinking about him. Sometimes you wonder what kind of life the two of you would have, but you try not to dwell on those thoughts. 

You’ve had the day off and have spent it happily lounging around the house. You treat yourself to lunch and settle on your couch to watch a movie with your beloved cat when an unfamiliar number pops up on your phone. You answer without a second thought. “Hi, if you’re out of noodles, I can just get rice instead. It’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence before the man confirms this is the correct number. You don’t immediately recognize his voice, but you’re sure you’ve heard it somewhere before. “I’m not with a restaurant. This is Aizawa, from...from UA, when we were younger.” You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, and he continues. “We need to talk. It’s about Shirakumo.”

It’s surprising how hearing his name is enough to reopen wounds you thought healed years ago. You swallow nervously, fresh dread pooling in your gut. You can hear how hoarse your voice is when you answer. “Okay. I’m off today, if you want to meet.”

You’ve got a very bad feeling about what you’re about to learn.

[onecanonlife]

Sam checks on Ranboo. What he finds doesn’t make him feel any better.

(word count: 1,508)

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

This is potentially not a very good idea. Sam doesn’t much like interacting with people, these days, and he certainly doesn’t seek people out. Everything always seems to go wrong when he does. Every connection he still has has been used against him. Better not to have them. Better to just—focus on his job. That’s what he’s here for. Even if—

No.

But the thing is, if he doesn’t do something about this, anything, he’ll hate himself even more than he already does. He can’t get Ranboo’s voice out of his head, shaking and desperate, his whole frame trembling as he asked, no, begged Sam to lock him away. If he doesn’t check up on the kid himself, if only for his own peace of mind, he won’t be able to function. So that’s how he finds himself here, in the tundra, and he’s definitely not dressed for the weather, but that doesn’t matter, not when he has a goal in mind.

He passes by twin cottages, no sign of anyone within. Probably a good thing—he has no desire to speak to Phil or Technoblade. Ranboo’s house is just behind theirs, dug into a mountain, and there’s no indication of life there, either, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. He could be out. Could be… doing something. He wishes the idea didn’t fill him with so much dread.

He might be at Snowchester, but the thing is, Sam just came from Snowchester. That was the first place he checked. Tubbo said he hadn’t seen him since yesterday. Yesterday. The whole thing happened yesterday. Sam doesn’t like that Tubbo hasn’t seen him since yesterday. Tubbo seemed pretty unconcerned, but Sam’s pretty sure he has no idea that his husband spent about half an hour trying to persuade him to put him in the prison. As an inmate. For—what did he say? A few years.

Sweet Prime.

He knocks on Ranboo’s door and receives no response. Calling out garners the same lack, so Sam presses the button and lets himself inside.

“Ranboo?” he calls again. “It’s just me. Sam. I wanted to check in with you? See if you were doing okay?”

He’s not sure how Ranboo will react to him. They don’t know each other very well, to be honest, and any hope that Sam had of acting as a parental figure to the minors on his server dissolved as soon as he failed Tommy so horrendously. He’s looked at with suspicion, now, and he deserves it. He deserves it for more reasons than one. So if Ranboo wants him to go, he’ll go, but he needs to at least lay eyes on him. Make sure he’s alright. Or—he’s not sure alright is the right word. Not after yesterday. But everything’s relative.

He still gets no answer, so he checks upstairs first. There’s no sign of him, and he can’t tell if the bed has been slept in. So he heads back down, and down the ladder, moving slowly, cautiously. He’s never been in Ranboo’s house. He doesn’t want to break anything. And he also doesn’t want to seem like an intruder, even though he’s definitely intruding at the moment.

Ranboo’s basement is kind of a mess, but it’s an organized kind of mess, a clutter that has a reason to it, once he looks for more than a few seconds. Chests along one wall, brewing stations along the other, a sugar cane farm, and it looks like a few villagers have set up camp, though they don’t appear to be here right now. For a long moment, Sam doesn’t think that anyone is here at all, and he takes a few steps forward, almost losing his balance on the third. He frowns; there’s water all over the floor, and what looks like a few shards of glass. Did Ranboo break a water flask?

And then he sees him, curled up against the far wall, legs hugged to his chest, face buried in his knees.

“Ranboo?” he asks. Ranboo doesn’t react. “Hey, are you good?”

Ranboo makes no sign that he knows he’s there at all, so he advances, still slow, still cautious, and crouches at his side. He’s not sure what to do here—does he touch him? He doesn’t want to touch him without permission. But he’s worried that he’s hurt in some way, either physically or mentally, and he can’t check him for injuries if he stays in that position. So, gently, he reaches one hand out and brushes it against Ranboo’s shoulder. When he doesn’t respond to that, he places it down just a little more firmly.

“Ranboo?” he tries again, and this time, Ranboo stirs, raising his head, blinking blearily, and it is a struggle not to gasp, not to outwardly show his dismay, because Ranboo’s face is covered in burns, angry and inflamed, stretching down in twin lines from his eyes, and—that’s right. Enderman. Water burns him.

So the water on the floor—?

“Sam?” Ranboo croaks, and he sounds barely cognizant. Mostly just confused. “What’re you doin’?”

“I was worried about you,” he replies. “Ranboo, are you—” He doesn’t know how to finish that. Obviously, the kid isn’t okay. But he doesn’t know what to do about it. He’s not—he’s not good with kids. Not good with keeping them safe. Recent events have made that much very clear.

Ranboo’s pants are damp. There’s water around him; he’s sitting in a puddle of it.

“Jeez, Ranboo,” he says. “That must hurt. You wanna—I don’t know where you keep spare clothes, but do you wanna change out of that?”

Ranboo stares at some distant point over his head.

“I needed t’know,” he says, his voice slurring, barely understandable. “I tried t—I had to. I have to.”

A horrible suspicion rises. But that can’t—he wouldn’t, would—?

No.

“Ranboo, did you do that on purpose?” he asks, and he tries so, so hard to keep the horror out of his tone, but he doesn’t think he succeeds. He wants to be wrong. Please, Prime, let him be wrong. Because if he’s not wrong, that means that Ranboo left him yesterday, and he came back here and—

“Had to,” Ranboo repeats, distant, and Sam finds himself suddenly blinking back tears.

“Okay, that’s—” he says. “Why would you—oh, god, Ranboo, why would you do that? It’s not—you weren’t punishing yourself, were you?” It can’t be that. He needs—it can’t be that. But the way Ranboo was acting, the way he was insisting that he’d done something worthy of being locked away for, something he couldn’t say anything about—if he couldn’t get the punishment he wanted, would he resort to this?

Is this his fault?

“Answers,” Ranboo says, completely nonsensically. “Needed—” He cuts off. Turns his face away.

And Sam comes back to himself. He can’t make this about him. Not right now. Even though his stomach is churning, guilt and horror crashing over him in waves, and he wants to have a bit of a breakdown over this, honestly. But he can’t break down, because that helps no one, and that certainly doesn’t help Ranboo, and he’s not going to be able to get him to open up, either. If Ranboo hasn’t trusted him enough to tell him things before, he’s not going to start now.

But he can help him in the moment.

“Okay,” he says, even though it’s not, not at all. “Okay, how about I just take you upstairs, then? Get you somewhere a little more comfortable?”

“Mmkay,” Ranboo says after a second. Quiet, still kind of confused. Sam has no idea how aware he is of what’s going on. But he’s got his permission, so he hooks one arm around Ranboo’s back and the other under his legs, and he lifts him. As tall as he is, it should be hard, he thinks, but it isn’t. He’s very light.

Worrying. Very worrying. But there’s nothing he can do about it right now.

He gets Ranboo up the ladder, and then up the stairs. Into his bed. He thinks Ranboo falls asleep, but it’s hard to tell. The kid doesn’t have eyelids.

He stands there for a moment, and feels the crushing weight of a situation he can do nothing to solve, once again. He doesn’t know where to go from here. Ranboo isn’t going to tell him anything. Maybe he’s right not to. Sam doesn’t think of himself as particularly worthy of trust, these days. So there’s nothing he can do except keep an eye out, really, and hope that at some point, Ranboo will let someone in. Even if it’s not him.

He stands there for a moment longer.

“God, Ranboo, I’m so sorry,” he says.

And then he leaves. Guilt is an anchor tied around his ankle, another burden to carry.

But he doesn’t think the Warden can solve this one. And he doesn’t think that Sam can solve much of anything at all.

[sdv-mostly-shane]

Hello! January is birthday month for my children, and now that we got the last one down, time to get right back in ~ In the spirit of parenthood, here’s some Stardew Parent Headcannons of all the marriage candidates -

Stardew Valley Imagines : Parent Headcannons

Bachelors

Alex

The kind of dad to be at every appointment/interview/inspection and cry at every point of progress “we’re one step closer to our beautiful baby”

Will absolutely cry once he holds that baby, and will have a hard time letting them go to his partner

Baby wearing extraordinaire- has multiple options for different occasions

Matching track suits to hide the fact that they were both a hot mess that morning trying to get out the door, but they did it, so time to celebrate

Would ironically have a brainiac child that he is absolutely enamoured with and admires - he sits at their little table, spilling out of the tiny chair, but refuses to budge because his baby is telling him about the water cycle of the Earth, and he doesn’t want to miss a thing

Elliot

A very ‘hands off’ parent - will observe them at play and not pressure them in any particular way

Probably a Waldorf dad

Sits his babies in his lap every night to read- they are the first ones he tests out a new limerick on, and respects their criticisms as much as their praise

Lots of evening walks down the sea shore and the forest edge.

Out of the bachelors, I think would be the most sensitive/attune to them, and would be great at breaking down their complex emotions and thoughts, and would especially be so with any neurodivergent children.

Harvey

The type to plop down a stack of parenting and pediatric books on the dining room table as soon as you two have decided to welcome children into your lives

Is the one to show the farmer how to change a diaper

In fact, just count Harvey as the one to be the party planning, baby book filling, milestone documenting professional. He’s got it covered.

Loves the newborn stage, is terrified of toddlerhood, but then back in control once they’re like 6. And then terrified again once they are teenagers (his kids actually consider him a friend as well as a father and actually enjoy hanging out with him (sometimes))

100% a helicopter parent, but more so the ‘I love you so much I don’t want you to ever experience any pain’ type of way

Sam

Probably has an accidental love child at one point

You can find him in bed with the baby, singing songs together, while he spikes the baby’s hair nice and tall

Do you honestly think this young man would not use every dad joke ever known? Because he would- and he would find them all absolutely hilarious

The fun dad that will also actively try to embarrass his kids in front of their friends

Keeps his kids home for “sick days” to sit on the couch together, no pants, no homework, and all laughter.

Sebastian

Would be stressed when they are newborns, but relax as they get older. By the time they’re teens, he would have cultivated a very trust and respect-based relationship with them where his kids are comfortable telling him anything

You’ll find him quietly at every event, game, recital, competition, imaginable. Supporting his children with his presence and then taking them out that evening to do something fun, crazy, or maybe even a little dangerous

His most fond parenting moments are when the baby is in their bouncer right besides him, happily babbling away and smiling at him, while he does his work at the computer. Quality time is his baby love language.

The type of dad to patiently and honestly answer his children’s millions of questions about anything and everything.

Will absolutely take them out to splash in the puddles when it rains (but then will also send them straight to the bath)

Shane

Is already pretty experienced in the parenting realm, but is thrown into a whole new adventure with the newborn phase. Finds himself to truly LOVE babies and toddlers

“Hm, can’t sleep? Let’s go get a snack.” “But dad, it’s 1AM” “I do this all the time, don’t worry. Just don’t tell [parent]”

Would let his kids roam free, but only if he is supervising, and is actually kinda strict/short. Absolutely fears losing his children and will do anything and everything to make sure they grow up safe and cared for.

A very stressed daddy but only because he loves his children so much that he would die if anything happened to them

The best cuddler out of all the bachelor parents. Wanna soft spot to curl up on the couch? He’s already passed out with his head back, snoring. His nice pudgy ‘dad’ belly makes the perfect pillow to rest baby heads on while he reads a book.

Bachelorettes

Abigail

The fun parent.

The kind that wakes up early on a Saturday with their kids, just as excited as they are, to eat sugar cereal and watch a show together.

Is always down to play (especially play fight). Will (endearingly) spook their partner a bit when they rough house because Abby has that wild feral look in her eye too often

The competitive parent that gets just a liiiitle too involved in whatever sport/organization/fair/et.al that the child is partaking in-all in good fun, of course.

I can picture her taking her child out to the forest, late at night, to lay on the soft moss. She’d tell them about monsters, lore, crystals, and everything supernatural and mystic. Whispering in the dark as they point up to the stars and laugh and laugh and laugh

Emily

Hippy granola mom to a T - have you seen her “organic quinoa and fresh goat milk” quote? She’d do anything to provide the best that nature has to offer her children

While her disposition toward her children is incredibly loving and free-spirited, she would probably be very resposible and stressed about doing right for her children

Would absolutely take her children by the hand, in various states of dress (jammies? Okay. Just a diaper? Alright. Ballgown? Let’s go), out to the forest with handmade woven baskets to collect all the gifts from the Earth that they can find

Absolutely the Craft Mom - she’d be all about enrichment, sensory play, and fostering a creative spirit

Tells the best stories. After bedtime routine, will sit with her children in thrir bed, and will tell stories of magic, of love, and of adventure. Her kids, eyes bright, won’t want the night to end, because mom is showing us how much wonder and mystery is in the world

Haley

So gentle and so sweet with her kids, but can send them running with just a ‘look’

Would be a nervous wreck the first go round, but an absolute master by the time the second comes around

Helicopter parent that obsesses over every milestone, growth, and accomplishment of their child. SO proud of them and can’t wait to praise them and brag about them.

The wonder parent that can do it all while looking absolutely breathtaking. She makes it look easy once she gets the hang of it

Can’t you just picture her and her baby girl in matching flowy Daisy sundresses dresses with pink ribbons in their beautiful blonde curls, chasing after each other barefoot in the fields, while the golden grass dances in the wind- gah I love this pretty pretty princess so much.

Leah

Cool Wine mom that drives a Subaru

Would absolutely read her child to bed every night, until they fell asleep.

Her transition into motherhood was flawless. She’s a natural parent who just loves in abundance

Soooo many nature walks, hikes, and camping trips. Always accompanied with a picnic basket, quiet peacefulness, and heart to hearts about whatever is going on in their life.

The definition of free-range parenting, encouraging self discovery and independence. Yeah, she’ll always step in when needed with some kind encouragement or advice, but would much rather watch her children learn about the world on their own terms

Maru

The do-it-all parent. Signs up for activities, projects, school boards, committees, and teams. Is actually on time, prepared, and succeeds in all of these.

The most prepared and responsible out of any of the parents. Always has snacks in her diaper bag and a first aid kit

Did someone say routine/chore chart

Would show love for her children through learning and new experiences-the best part about being a parent for her is watching her child’s brain turning and working as they think about the environment in front of them. At her best, her kids think she is incredibly fun and they have a blast doing anything and everything with her

Not exactly tender/overly affectionate with her kids, but absolutely concerned about being the best mom she can be by having balance of learning, play, discipline, and love.

Penny

Literally just Miss Honey from Matilda

Pinterest mom. All the crafts, DIYs, bento boxes with cute little caterpillar grapes-you name it, she’s already done it AND packed your backpack and laid your clothes out for you.

Can be heard saying “well the pediatrician said...” “hm well that’s not what dr alberts book said to do” among other “first time mom”things

Can be incredibly anxious worrying about their child’s development and well being. She’s been around kids her entire life, but this is HER child? This one doesn’t go home at the end of the day? Everything has to be absolutely perfect

The most sentimental-would absolutely weep going through the baby box to pull out the teeny tiny booties and smelling the baby blanket - “they were just SO TINY- we need another one NOW.”

[scoopsahoy]

hi can u do a sequel to the derek pregnancy fic where u were pregnant for a full nine months and go into labor one night when yall r asleep

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ birth

ꨃ  part one

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You opened your eyes to a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing a sharp breath to enter through your nose.

“Jesus,” you whispered to yourself. You gently pulled Derek’s arm, which was wrapped around your stomach, off of you. You sat up with a struggle, as you were heavily pregnant. You looked at the alarm clock to see it was almost six o’clock in the morning.

The pregnancy was nine months, meaning the baby would be human. You found out at five months that it was going to be a girl, and Derek couldn’t wait to have a tiny version of you running around his loft.

It was a rough nine months. It destroyed your knees, hips, ankles, and gave you massive, dark stretch marks. You’d become insecure about them, but Derek didn’t care.

He was sad that you were insecure about them. He called them your ‘battle scars’, always making sure to make you feel better about yourself when you looked in the mirror.

Even having been with him for over three years, you’d never seen the sensitive side of him that came out when you got pregnant. He made you breakfast, massaged your feet, and would even help you wash your hair sometimes.

You loved it, you just wish he’d been like this the whole time you knew him.

Moving his arm woke him up, and he reached over and lightly ran his hand up and down your back.

“You okay?” he mumbled, still half asleep.

“I think so-”

Just then, you felt a massive puddle forming under you. It dripped onto the floor and you felt a pressure in your belly.

“Derek,” you said in a monotone voice, standing up. You looked at the wet spot on the bed, and he did too.

“Did you pee yourself?” he asked innocently.

“I think my water just broke.” That seemed to wake him up, because he immediately shot out of bed. “Get the hospital bag,” you told him as he slipped his shirt on. He nodded and practically ran to the other side of the loft, returning with a crossbody bag.

He helped you put your shoes on and when you stood back up, he took your hand, helping you to the elevator.

You’d never seen him so nervous and distraught, anxiety reeking from his body. When you got outside and to his car, he made sure you were strapped in before running to the driver’s side and zooming to the hospital.

When you arrived, he didn’t even bother parking straight. He dragged you inside, calling out for help. You both looked up to see Scott’s mom, Melissa. You let out a sigh of relief when she ran over, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair.

You eagerly sat down in it, letting them wheel you to a room you didn’t even know the number for.

Once you were changed into a hospital gown, you laid in the bed, an IV in your arm, and bracelets on your wrist. Derek sat next to you, holding your hand.

“Have you had any contractions yet?” Melissa asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes water will break before contractions start, but they should get here soon.”

“I didn’t think you worked in obstetrics,” you said as you adjusted the blankets.

“I don’t. I figured I’d stay with you for a minute though. Is there anyone you want to call?”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” You looked at Derek. “Can you grab me my phone?” He nodded, pulling it out of his pocket. “Thanks.” You opened it and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name Stiles.

Stiles was one of your best friends, and he was eager when you announced the pregnancy. He told you he wanted to be there when you gave birth and made you promise you’d tell him when you went into labor.

Even if it was six in the morning.

You held the phone up to your ear, hearing it ring a few times.

“Hello?” said the groggy voice on the other line.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

“Sleeping,” he said simply.

“Well, I figured I’d let you know I’m in labor, but if you wanna go back to sleep you can.”

“You’re what?” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“My water broke. I’m at the hospital.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”

“I can’t control-” He hung up. “-when the baby comes.”

You sighed and smiled at Derek.

“I’ll come back when you start pushing, okay?” Melissa said, giving you a smile.

“Okay. Thank you.” She left with a smile.

“Are you gonna call your parents?”

“I never even told them I was pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Did you forget I haven’t talked to them in years?”

“I just figured this might be something they should know. You know, since they’re about to be grandparents and everything.”

You sighed. “I’ll call them sometime. Just not now.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go get some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

You nodded. “A Snickers would be nice.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed you. “Be right back.”

No one else had seen this side of Derek except you. He wasn’t the same person he was to Stiles, or Scott, or even his uncle, Peter. With you, he was soft and sweet, always making sure you had everything you needed and wanted. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them half the things he’d done for you over the years, even before you started dating.

Fifteen minutes went by quickly, and before you knew it, Stiles ran into your room, his shoes squeaking and his breath heavy.

“You haven’t given birth yet, have you?” he asked as he sat next to your feet.

“Nope, not yet. I haven’t even gotten contractions yet.”

“Is that good?”

“Just means it’ll take longer.”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Just then, you felt a heavy pressure and pain course down from your stomach to your legs, your hand reaching for Stiles’, which was right next to your knee.

“Nevermind,” you groaned, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply.

He winced and an ‘Ow’ left his lips.

When the contraction died down a moment later, you let go of his hand. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he said, shaking his hand.

“That was not what I was expecting it to feel like.”

“Better or worse?”

“Way worse,” you chuckled. “Jesus. The next few hours are gonna be Hell.”

‘Few hours’ was an understatement. It was now seven p.m., and your contractions still weren’t anywhere near as close as they needed to be.

You’d tried everything the midwife suggested to speed it up: walking around the room, sitting in a chair, sitting on a yoga ball, drinking tea and water, peeing, laying on your left side, and you even tried falling asleep.

But none of it worked.

At this point, you were sweating, crying and in some of the worst pain you’d ever felt.

The doctor decided to see how far dilated you were, which was two centimeters, eight away from being able to push.

“On the bright side, you’ll be able to deliver naturally,” she said.

“What does that mean?” Derek asked.

“No c-section.” You both let out a sigh of relief. “Once you get to four centimeters you’ll be in active labor, which shouldn’t be as long as early labor.”

“Thank God,” you whispered.

Even though it wasn’t as long as early labor, active labor was ten times more painful. It was definitely the absolute worst pain you’d ever felt.

But your boyfriend and best friend were there for you the entire time, even through your random bursts of anger, sadness, and pain.

When you were told you were at nine centimeters, you looked at Derek.

“I can’t do this, I don’t think I can do it.”

He stood up and leaned over you, gripping your hands. Stiles stood at the other side of the bed.

“Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this.” You let a tear fall. “Babe, I’m scared, too. But guess what? We’re gonna have a baby. A tiny version of you. We’re gonna have a little girl. And she’s gonna be awesome. Okay?”

You nodded. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked at Stiles. “Be ready for me to crush your hand,” you laughed.

“I’m ready,” he said somewhat reluctantly. “Just try not to break any bones.”

You smiled.

“Alright, Y/N. You ready?”

Screams filled the room, both Stiles and Derek wincing at how hard you were squeezing their hands.

You pushed a total of six times before you felt a massive relief of pressure, and you gasped for air. Your cheeks were soaked with sweat and tears, your legs tingly.

You let go of their hands and, just like before, Stiles shook his hand in the air. You breathily chuckled at his reaction as the nurses wrapped the crying newborn in a blanket.

They handed her to you, now having stopped screaming, and you started crying all over again.

She was beautiful. She had the same pale green eyes that Derek had, and bright red hair.

“She’s a ginger,” he whispered.

“My dad is, maybe that’s who she got it from,” you said.

Only a little while later, Derek was next to you in the bed, and you both just watched her sleep in his arms.

You’d never seen him so happy. He had a soft smile plastered to his face and he was a natural at holding her.

You let Stiles hold her, and, just like your boyfriend, you’d never seen him happier. An uncontrollable grin formed as he sat in the recliner with her, letting you and Derek have open arms for a little while.

Once Scott and the rest of the group arrived, you decided to tell them the name you settled on: Charlotte Allison Hale, Charlie for short. Allison was your best friend before she died, and you figured it would be a nice tribute to her.

Scott loved it, and it pleasantly surprised you. You were worried it would make him sad, and you knew it probably did, but you were glad he liked the name, too.

You spent the next few days in the hospital, learning how to change diapers, breastfeed, and all of the other essential things included in being new parents.

Stiles was there every day, other than going to school. He went to his classes, went to lacrosse practice, and then immediately came back to the hospital.

You liked being at the hospital and having some help from the nurses and Stiles, but being able to go home and spend time just the three of you was your favorite thing in the process.

And it made your heart melt watching Derek with her. For the first few days he didn’t let you get up during the night and insisted he go check on and feed her with the bottles of breastmilk you had pumped while at the hospital.

You were finally in a place where you were genuinely happy with everything in your life. And you couldn’t have asked for a better one.

[bitchin-beskar]

Is King!Din ever just super sweet and gentle and domestic and fluffy? Because my goodness if the big strong warrior being sweet isn't hot as fuck, then idk what is..

Is King!Din ever just–

yes. 

yesyesyes 

y e s

ok so you must’ve read my mind anon cause the next chapter of Royal Affairs (chapter three) has the sweetest King!Din I swear. I’d wanted to have it out yesterday, but unfortunately things came up and it’s not ready yet, but I promise it will be out soon!!!!

but onto King!Din being sweet and gentle and soft...

he loves deeply, and he loves with his entire being. 

yes, he’s a dangerous bounty hunter-turned-royalty, he’s killed people, he can be ruthless and dangerous and honestly a little frightening.

he’s also passionate and possessive and intense and his desire for you could eclipse the sun. 

but some of his favorite moments are when he’s managed to hide away with you, out on the grounds somewhere, lying with his head in your lap, eyes closed as you run your fingers through his hair, listening to you hum a simple melody into the soft breeze. 

your nails gently scratch at his scalp and he swears he could just melt into a puddle right then and there, head cushioned on your thighs. he doesn’t have to think about any of his duties when he’s lying here with you. he can be vulnerable with you, soft and open, and he loves it.

you know what else he also loves?

your children.

(i mean... man’s got a huge ass breeding kink, which i go into detail about here. so obviously y’all are gonna end up with some kids)

King Din Djarin will absolutely refuse point blank to leave you alone in the birthing room when you’re bringing his adike into the world. He doesn’t care about any illusions of propriety, you’re in the middle of doing one of the most difficult things in the galaxy, brining another being into this universe, like hell is he letting you go through that without him. 

he’s the third person who holds your children, after the doctor, and you. it brings tears to your eyes every single time, seeing him standing there, shirtless, with a newborn infant pressed directly over his heart. they say the skin-on-skin contact is good for the baby, but it’s just as good for the parents, and oh maker, Din never wants to let go. he wants his child to stay just like this, curled up in the safety of his arms forever and ever. 

he is the best father, which you already knew because of Grogu, but seeing him, every night, without fail, getting up to collect your baby when they scream instead of sleep, changing every diaper, warming every bottle, it’s one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. 

he scoffs at the idea of a nanny. he’s well aware adike are raised by their smaller clans, but he’s already decided he will never be too busy to provide for his children’s immediate needs. there are few he trusts with his children’s safety (Cara, Fennec, Boba, Paz, the Armorer), his own personal clan of those he would lay his life down for. 

but you bet your ass he will be there, every single step of the way, from conception to birth to childhood to adulthood. 

like I said. he loves deeply, and he loves with his entire being. and there’s none he loves more than his family.

send me asks about King!Din!!!!

[pogueszn]

a sprout master post

with the amount of asks i got and the things i’ve got going on in my personal life i don’t think i can answer them all before the season drops (which was i wanted to do) and these asks have been sitting in my inbox for too long already and i don’t just want to leave you all hanging so i thought i would compile a majority of the sprout asks here so you guys can read them, or add on to them or something! i’m gonna answer a few sprout asks and the random ones that are there later today some time, or tomorrow if i can’t find the time today! 

you guys going to a cameron party and there’s a photo booth and jj and teeny sprout are in line, and he’s like “okay when she says 3 you have to smile okay?” and sprout smiles so huge and it’s gummy to the point you see all of her dimples

going to a big city and your condo is has floor to ceiling windows and sprout crawls up to it and presses her slobbery face against it and jj is liek “enjoying the view princess?”

sprout bonding with nana heyward 🥺

baby sprouty sleeping in her bassinet and pope is over and she’s fussing and jj is like “see even your nerd talk bothers the baby”

Sprout laying on the ground and JJ is laying next to her and he’s like “I love youuuuu” and she does that cute newborn sleepy smile

going to the bookstore and everyone knows sprout and when you guys check out the cashiers like “your uncle popes phone number sprout?” and she’s like “yes peez”

ward holding sprouty while he’s talking business and she takes her binkie and shoves it in his mouth like “stop talking” and you and jj are like embarrassed

jj waking up to sprout poking him and he’s like “what baby?” and she whispers “i see my unca pope now” and jj looks at the time and it’s like 4 am

john b and sarah taking sprout and they pull her out of the car and she’s pissed at john b, and she had her binkie in her mouth and she bolts to see the heywards and john b is like “hey diaper butt watch the attitude”

jj telling the heywards about sprouts teething and he picks sprout up and is like “show them your teeth” and she’s like 😬 but with two teeth poking out and pink gums

baby sprouty in her sling on jj’s chest and she’s looking around and as soon as she spots pope she gummy grins so huge

baby brother and sprout laying in your room and you walk out to change snd find them passed out together

baby brother in his swing and sprouts looking at him, and jj is like “aw perfect instagram moment” and he’s taking a video of them and he’s like “sprout do you like your baby brother?” and she’s like “no coconut head cries too much”

Maybank Jr def sells edibles at school and he has to give Sprout first dibs or she’ll snitch him out

Baby Sprouty going out to The Wreck for the first time and Kies parents are like “Want a few minutes without the baby?” and they just want baby snuggles and she’s in her little car seat just sleeping

JJ having to take a plane for work conference and Sprout is shattered and she’s like “talk to dada peez” and you have to break her heart and say he can’t talk right now

sprout saying something like “gosh the kids on the cut have it easier” and it’s definitely easier if the times jj sits her down and has a starbucks talking to cause it definitely isn’t easy as it seems

jj is always kissing sproutys chubby cheeks from the moment she came out of the womb and was placed on your chest

the first morning with sprouty 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺☹️☹️☹️ 

HEARING SPROUTS HEARTBEAT FOR THE FIRST TIME. and the nurse is like “yup strong and healthy”

JJ holding sprout in his lap and she’s less than a month old, and he’s burping her while holding her cheeks and everyone’s in awe of her, Kie’s even videoing Sprout who’s milk drunk. And she spits up all over JJs leg

Sprouty having her little friend over and you can hear them whispering and you make out “hims cry all night. hims head big too” and her friends like “my sissy’s sleeps and can’t play wif her”

Mrs Heyward hogging up Sprout when she pops in the visit and Sprout is just vibing with her Nana while you and JJ are catching up on sleep

jj definitely mirrors the kids face when they’re crying and sprouts baby head thinks he’s actually crying so she fusses even more

baby sprout trying to crawl but she jusy looks like she’s wiggling in place and jj is like “aw my little worm”

Sprout and JJ having a boat day and Sprout climbs in JJs lap and she’s like “love yous more dan my fishies at papas” and JJs heart is a PUDDLE BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS SPROUTY LOVES HER FISHES AT PAPAS POND

JJ taking you out on one last vacation before your bubs born 🥺

when you’re pregnant and close to sproutys due date, you just clean from the time jj leaves for work to when he gets back and he’s like 🚨 no more cleaning ma’am you’ve reorganized my socks fives times already

Sprout and John B hanging out while Sarah’s out and he’s like “Want a cheeto?” and she stares at him and he’s like “Right sorry I forgot you don’t have teeth or how you only drink your moms boob milk”

When Sprout comes home from Urgent Care, you have her sleep in your bed because she still has a low fever and at first she’s clinging to you, and throughout the night she makes her way to JJ and they’re doing skin to skin cause she’s in her diaper and he’s shirtless

jj taking sprout to a daddy’s and i event at daycare and he noticed that a lot of the dads are like “sucks that my wife is having me babysit the kids on saturday so i’ll miss the game” and they’re more flabbergasted when they hear jj doesn’t use a 24/7 nanny like them

I feel like JJ already gives off intimidating and stern personality and when he has kids he feels like he has to lower it a few notches but sometimes he looses his patience and it definitely gets everyone’s attention

sprouty in her sling and you’re like “JJ can you take her? My boobs probably look weird with her pressed up against them” and he’s like “actually they look fantastic”

everyone coming to watch sprouty girls first swim lesson and she waddles out and she just started walking while holding someone’s hand and everyone’s like “oh such a big girl sprout.” and she’s like “fishie” and john b is like “no you’re the fish this time”

when ur telling the heywards that ur pregnant, heywards like “10 years together and it took you that long to knock her up?”

Sprout being a little over a year old and John B is waving a sparkler in front of her and she grabs at it, and everyone scolds John B

JJ DRESSING SPROUTY GIRL UP IN FOURTH OF JULY FITS THROUGHOUT THE DAY AND EVEN HER BINKIE MATCHES HER FITS

Waking JJ at ass crack of dawn and you’re like “Honey can you ask Heyward to make his french toast cause baby girls wanting them”

sprouty seeing jj on facetime and she’s like “oh hi dada” and he’s like “are you being good for your mom” and she’s like “no dada”

sprout going to heywards in a bad mood, and heyward is like “hugs for papa?” ans she’s like “no fank you papa. is in a bad mood right now”

Teen Sprout calling you guys at an ungodly hour and she’s like “I’m drunk and my ride ditched me. Please pick me up”

your baby shower for baby boy happening and sproutys like “awww for me???” and you’re like “no baby for your brother” and she’s so upset

Baby Boy and Sprout going to the Heywards for the night and JJ is like “Maybank #3?”

baby sprout sleeping in sarah’s arms and it’s after she’s first born and john b is like “nine months of growing a kid for her to sleep?” and he pokes her cheek “loser”

JJ getting giant headphones for Baby so she can watch the fireworks with you guys and he’s like “And look Dada even got Papa a pair cause we don’t his old man ears to get any worse”

:ooo did you ever hc how you tell jj you’re pregnant with sprout??

sprouty in the buggy and she’s babbling and jj is like “yeah baby?” and she does the babbling scream and he’s like “ma’am you’re in the store”

it being the first time you guys take sprout out, and you fed her and jjs burping her but she keeps dozing off cause it’s past her bedtime and he’s like “she’s definitely going to give us hell tonight for making her stay up”

baby sprouty looking at the fairy lights in the cameron backyard and john b is like “jesus j, she makes it seem like you never take her out of that castle she calls home” and sarah’s like “john b she’s three months old let the girl live”

jj buying little matching sunglasses for sprout and you look at the receipt and you’re like “$90 for glasses that she won’t even need?”

Sprout sitting up on your bed and JJ walks in and he’s like “Hi Mamas!” and she babbles back

Realizing the reason Sprouty sneezes on JJ or sometimes John B and Rafe is because their colognes are too strong for her baby nose

baby sprout in her bath tub in your bathroom and jj is like “how come babies get all the cool shit”

sprouts first fourth of july.

JJ getting fake chicken nuggets as his way of going vegan or something and he gives it to Sprout and she just devors them all.

baby sprouts first little stroller around the neighborhood 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Sprout mirroring everyone’s facial expressions

wait so i read concepts about how miss lana took jj in a lot, and how he’s so protective over her. and i was like him having miss lana watch sprouty as her babysitter cause he knows how motherly she’s is

JJ getting Sprout from the babysitter and she’s so tiny like one of the first times he picks her up, and he’s like “oh hi bubby did you have a nice time”

Sprout being into pictures for some reason, but it’s when she’s starting to recognize people. So every time she leaves her nursery you or jj stop by your wedding pictures in the hallway and ask “Where is…” for the next five minutes

Sprout waking up JJ like “My papas birfday dada?”

sprouts project in class is about love and you see her put “unca pope loves me the most” in her teachers writing cause they just wrote down what she says

Sarah and John B having a baby son and Sproutys meeting him, and she’s like “Awww hims wook wike my Unca Pope”

As soon as Baby Boy is out of your room and sleeping in his nursery, you can bet all your money sprout is back in between you and jj

sprout def snitches john b out when he gets on her nerves

sprout in her floaty and she’s having a blast and john b swims by her and she grips his hair and it’s the strong baby grip no one can seem to undo and she’s laughing at everyone telling her to stop

JJ making breakfast and he’s like “decaf for the mama, organic mango orange juice for the little mama, and boobs on the rocks for the little man in the sling”

maybank jr seeing you standing by the entry way of the house when jj picks him up from jail, and he’s so scared. and you’re like “had sprout stay with a friend tonight, you young man in your room until your father and i discuss what we’re gonna say to you”

Sprouts playroom is HUGE especially for a two foot baby. And somehow she manages to only play with the box her dad left while he spent all Saturday putting together her play kitchen

The one time JJ wakes up when Sprouts screaming she wants you

sprout potty training and she’s so excited to be a “big girl”

okay. i feel like jj would def have the first baby in the group or just never have kids

You guys taking a family trip to Nashville for the week and Sprout is THRIVING, baby is just vibing to the live music performances while y’all are eating at restaurants

heyward having sprout over and she facetimes you and you hear her grumble “pick me up unca b is here. eatin my mac in cheese”

JJ making barbecued ribs and Sprouts just devouring them and she’s just a mess and when JJ takes her out of her high chair he’s like “Aw my little piggy loved Dada’s cooking?” and Kie is like “You’re calling her a pig when you fed her pig?”

you guys leaving sprouty with john b and when you come to pick her up she’s strapped on his chest and he’s like “we’re bonding”

SPROUT MODELING WOULD BE AMAZINGGGG, like it’s sarah who talks you into it, and she’s only a few months old and it’s for a boutique in town and she’s so smiley and cooing the whole time

sprout not falling asleep when you guys are out of the house, and jj is like “you can sleep bubba” as he’s rubbing her back and she’s so drowsy she keeps dropping her pacifier

Picking Sprout up from daycare and you guys are like “How was your first day baby?” and she’s like “See my Unca Pope now?”

Baby Brother and you coming to Sprouts class for a class party and she’s like “Dis is my brudder hims kinda mean”

jj going the mainland for work and he comes back with hella shopping bags and it’s custom made designer for sprout because everything’s cuter in baby form

usually baby brother is the one who teases sprout and he’s in timeout but one time he does something and she smacks him back, and you have to separate them in timeout and as jj is talking to sprout you hear “i don’t like him right now dada. hims like unca jombee.”

John B seeing Sprout before his wedding, and he’s like “Listen stinky, today is about me and Aunt Sarah, so don’t do something that everyone awes over, got it?” and Sprout totally steals the show when she’s walking down the isle

jj getting him and sprout matching outfits and she’s running around the property in a hat that’s a little too big for her and she runs straight into ward

baby boy doing something that resulted in a timeout and he’s screeching so loud, and he’s calling for you to get him out and jj gets like a flashback of his childhood

sproutys first storm and she’s just looking out your bedroom window and jj sneezes or something and she jumps and he’s like “wtf”

Baby sleeping in the bassinet when she’s just born and JJ is like “She totally sleeps like me” and you’re like “You snore louder than the storm”

catching sprout crawling out of her crib and jjs like “what are you doing missy?” and she’s like “unca pope”

john b and jj going to sproutys field trip to the police station cause your morning sickness with baby boy is terrible and a mom walks up and is like “you guys make such a lovely couple!”

jj walking in on you talking to your bump, and you’re like “i enjoy cooking a lot, my mom taught me all of my best recipes” and he’s like 🥺

The daycare having an open house for Sprouts class, and you see one of her papers the question is “a few of my favorite things” and her answers are “uncle pope, nana and papa, my daddy and mommy, and strawberries. and seeing the fishies at my papas house”

you and jj doing something special for sprout before baby brothers born

jj looking after baby sprout and he needs to pee but everytime he puts her down she squawks and screams really loud so he’s just shuffling around the house holding her and rocking her hoping you’ll be home soon

Sprout definitely humbles the whole family, and keeps everyone in their place

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio - P.7

masterlist (catch up with the series here!)

request guidelines (yes i am taking them!)

pairing: draco x reader

request: no! this is my original idea 

summary: american high school senior is in for a surprise when her family takes on a foreign exchange student with a mysterious past.

warnings: teen drinking, mentions of an armed robbery, language, a brief hospital visit, and descriptions of illness

a/n: hey. so. this is definitely where stuff starts to go down. thanks so much for waiting...i have so many more things planned for this series and i’m thrilled to see it come together the way that it is right now. thank you very much for reading and thank you for your patience!

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 6k

song recs: 

murders - miracle musical

pink in the night - mitski

always, forever - cults

ice dance - ashton gleckman

enjoy!

Y/N should’ve felt cold when she awoke on the wet pavement. Despite a figure looming over her and blocking out most of the rain, the back of her neck and body was drenched in the cool water from the puddle to her right. It was easily in the mid 40s at this point in the evening, something that would ordinarily make her toes curl and her figure tremble, but it felt...different.

She felt like her insides had been scorched, like she’d downed an entire pitcher of boiling hot water. Every movement she made hurt--right down to wiggling her fingertips and her eyes. Her body was exhausted. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that she’d just finished running a marathon in hell.

“Can you hear me?” A posh British voice cut through her musings as the figure above her came into focus. 

Draco.

“Yeah. Was there a fire?” Her words left her throat painfully, scratching their way up her vocal chords. 

“Er...what do you remember?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The memories of the night slowly began trickling back--she’d done Draco’s tie, told him to watch his drink, argued with Chad about how funny he was, and walked to...Oh, yeah. The antique store. The box. The stars inside of her.

She flinched. “I fainted. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me.”

“What?” Draco shifted back, the light from the front of the antique store catching his face. There were lines in his forehead that she’d never seen before. “Why?”

“I didn’t eat enough today,” said Y/N. Speaking was starting to feel less and less like lighting her trachea on fire. “I was really nervous and I lost my appetite. I’m an easy fainter.”

He cleared his throat. “Er, okay. Yeah. That was it. Anyways, we have to get home. You need to, uh, eat.”

“Okay.”

Y/N allowed herself to be hauled up onto her feet, swaying slightly once her full weight was on her feet. Her sense of gravity felt like it had been loosened. With every step, she felt pulled to the ground from a different part of her core.

“Steady. Don’t fall.” By some miracle, once Draco’s hands were gently guiding her shoulders, she was able to make her way to the backseat of Heather’s car before she collapsed.

“Where are we going?” asked Y/N. Despite no longer feeling like she was near death, her head was still cloudy. 

“Home,” was all Draco said as he slid in on the other side of the car. 

She didn’t bother putting on her seatbelt--she still felt like she was about to keel over--and rested her head on the car window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco open the passenger car door for a moment, pause, shut it, and instead tug open the door across from her and slide in. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My insides feel like they’re on fire.” Y/N winced as she tried to shift and get the weight off of her neck. “I think I’m sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Heather from the front, her eyes catching Y/N’s from the mirror. “You were just laying down in the middle of a rainstorm. Go home and take some Zi-cam or something, jesus.”

Y/N tried to chuckle in response, but it came out as a sorry squeak instead. No one made a move to further comment on the evening’s events as Heather pulled onto the freeway and began to gain speed. The sudden lurches and changes of speed in the car set Y/N’s stomach into a churning frenzy, her head growing light again. 

“Draco.”

Her voice was so soft it was hardly audible--the syllables jumbled together on her lips in a quiet mess--but he immediately snapped to attention.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“For the love of god, at least try and hold it until we get off the freeway.” 

“Shut up, Heather,” said Draco. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of satisfaction as he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back on her. “Is it the motion? Are you sick from that?”

“I don’t know,” she managed. 

He sighed. “Helpful.”

“Dick.”

Draco frowned at her, but she could see the slightest twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Can you move into the middle seat for me? Do you need help?”

Once Y/N had scooted over from her side, he leaned away from her and pointed up to the sunroof above them. “Go ahead and count all the lights that you can see in the sky. I promise it’ll make you feel better. Just keep your head pointed up.”

She tilted her head back. The night sky was largely gloomy, but the flickering lights of the planes that dove in and out of clouds provided some glowing dots. As she counted, Heather hit the fog strips and nearly threw her back into her original seat. She felt a warm hand wrap around her wrist and gently grip, the long fingers completely encircling it. 

Y/N blinked. The nausea was gone. “What are you, a sorcerer or something?” she joked, not expecting to see Draco so frozen at the comment. “Kidding. I just feel better already. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the window. His soft grip on her hand was long gone, and Y/N took Heather’s slightly uncoordinated driving as a cue to slide back into her seat and buckle up.

“If you really need to puke,” said Heather, “I have a Target bag back somewhere under the passenger seat. Please avoid the seats. They’re authentic vegan leather.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Just don’t throw up, okay?” 

~

Y/N was in Art History when it happened. The chills began, so intense and teeth-chattering that her teacher took one look at her and sent her immediately to the nurse. Sylvia offered to walk her, but she was only allowed to under the condition that she avoid all physical contact with her and sanitized each surface that Y/N touched. It was a wonder she made it to the first floor office--each step felt heavier than the last, and from the beginning she felt moments from simply passing out. 

A temperature check revealed that she had a mild fever--100.3 F, to be exact--and a call home resulted in her mother’s full voicemail box and the remembrance that her parents were out for the week. 

“Can someone else drive you?” Nurse Hazelwood asked as she stepped away to douse her hands in hand sanitizer. “I don’t think you should get yourself home in this state.”

After some deliberation, it was decided that Sylvia would take her home and call someone for a ride back. It was a bit overkill--but she didn’t know what else to do.

“And can you make sure Draco has a ride home today?” Y/N asked as they pulled into the driveway of the Y/L/N home. 

“Stop stressing so much, dude.” Sylvia took the keys out of the ignition to give her an expectant look. “You’re sick. Go inside and make some soup or something. I’m sure your boyfriend will figure it out.”

“Now I really am gonna be sick,” said Y/N as she rolled her eyes. 

The rest of her afternoon was a blur. Y/N tried to force down some chicken soup, but it took all her might to keep it from coming right back up. It was safe to say her appetite was gone. 

After a failed attempt at walking up the stairs to crawl into bed, she collapsed onto the couch. The last thing she remembered was the sound of footsteps outside the front door.

~

Y/N hadn’t been to the hospital since she had to get stitches in middle school. Then, all she did was lie back in the chair and try to shut her eyes as the needle wove in and out of her torn thigh (bad bike accident, in case anyone was curious). But now was different. 

Her eyes hurt to open, like someone had thrown soap in them and the very line where her two lids met were lined with knives. Everything inside of her was on fire--a manic, all-consuming fire that made it impossible for her to keep anything down. 

The nurses and doctors were no help--not like Y/N actually had her eyes long enough to see any of them--but their voices were enough to let her know what was going on.

“Fever of 104--”

“Can’t keep anything down--”

“Severely dehydrated--”

“Tested negative for everything we tried--”

“Never seen anything like this before--”

“No viruses were detected--”

“Not mono--”

As she wove in and out of consciousness, one fact stuck in her mind: I think I might die here. Something is very wrong.

 When she did dream, images of the box she picked up plagued her mind. The symbol, etched lightly into the black top, glowed menacingly in her hands. Open it, open it something around her urged, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t.

It was during one of these dreams that her world suddenly shifted back to her hospital room. She was suspended above her body, looking down at the tangle of IVs and various other wires that imprisoned her...but she wasn’t alone.

The dim lighting and darkness outside confirmed her suspicion that it was indeed late at night. A figure, tall and slim, was sitting to her left. It was whispering something unintelligible as it gently took her hand and squeezed.

If Y/N could scream, she would’ve. The sudden pull back to her body was so strong that she was yanked across the room so she just barely hovered over her corporeal form. She could feel a grip, steady and firm, wrapped around her hand as a rush of cool ran through her. Each breath, each pulse, each heartbeat pulled her back to herself. It felt like a bucket of water had been poured over--into--her, extinguishing the flames that were eating away the inside of her.  

The figure’s whispering finally came to an end as she settled back into her physical body. Before she drifted off to a peaceful slumber, a familiar voice rose above the quiet whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

~

“Y/N!”

Her eyes shot open to see her mother, heavy eye bags and all, standing over her bed. “Hi Mo-”

“You scared me half to death!” Mrs. Y/L/N interrupted, placing her hand on her forehead. “No fever. Thank god. You know, when you were a baby, you were horribly ill with…”

Y/N sat and pretended she was listening as she relinquished in the fact that she was awake, she was here. The fire inside of her was long gone, replaced with the familiar...whatever was there before. Nothing? Maybe. Nothing was good, or at least better than the painful fire. It struck her with a sudden urgency that she had no idea what day it was, much less time. What about her homework? What about her UChicago application? Her counselor was supposed to submit her letter of rec a week ago...or a week ago from whenever she was brought to the hospital.

“Honey, are you even listening?” 

“Uh, yeah,” she said. 

“That’s what I thought. The food here is horrendous--of course you’re excited to go home.” Mrs. Y/L/N took her glasses off to wipe at the lens in a gesture that seemed more habitual and less effective. “You poor thing. Your father is still in New York--John simply couldn’t have him leave--but he’ll be back as soon as he can. Let’s get you out of here.”

The next few hours were a strange blur of paperwork, changes of clothes, and a bag of medication. The nurses and doctors were bewildered at her miraculous recovery and expressed this at every chance they had on her way out, reminding her to immediately seek attention if she feels anything similar again.

“What day is it?” Y/N finally asked once they were on the way home. 

“Wow, you really were out of it.” Mrs. Y/L/N flicked her blinker on as she merged onto the freeway. “Sunday. You were there almost a whole week.”

“Huh? What about school? Do my teachers know? How did Draco get to school? Is he ok?”

“Of course your teachers know, hun. They’re all being very forgiving with their late work policies. As long as you’re putting effort into learning the material you missed, they have no problem letting you skip out on the homework. As for Draco...I think he’s fine. Sylvia’s family took him under their wing for the week. He’s still alive.”

And such a statement was proven when Y/N walked through the front door. Draco shot up from his seat at the living room couch the moment they locked eyes, his hands wringing back and forth.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re okay too,” she responded airily. “When I wasn’t dying I was worrying myself about how you’d do without me. I see my fears of you walking into moving traffic didn’t come true, thank God.”

His lips, tight, offered her the slightest upturn. 

“Y/N, dearie, no need to harass the boy,” her mother said. “Up to your room. I’ll bring you some soup in a moment. You need to rest, young lady.”

She sent one last teasing grin at Draco before she was ushered up the steps, her mother fussing over her the entire way. 

~

“So,” Sylvia said, crossing her legs over the other and giving Y/N a wicked look, “Consider this your last formal invitation to my Halloween party. It’s this Friday. It’s not even the night before the ED deadline. You should go.”

“I don’t know, Vy,” said Y/N. Her art history notes lay untouched in front of her as the teacher droned on about something related to how mannerism as an art style came to fame during the...Reformation? She didn’t know. “I’m kind of tired. I feel bad about leaving Draco alone, too.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “Will you just do us all a favor and admit that you like him? It’s getting exhausting. Just ask him to come with you.”

“You’re absolutely off your rocker if you think I’m gonna do that,” Y/N said. 

“I’m just saying, you’ve done weirder things. Like almost dying from...literally nothing.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be rude. I’ll think about it but no guarantees. I don’t really think Draco is the partying type, though.”

“I’d be careful about making such a wild assumption. You never know what goes on in those posh private British schools for rich kids or wherever he went.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Her friend laughed. “No. Just an optimist.”

Y/N swung the sleeve of her cardigan at her, whacking her pretty good on the bicep. If Sylvia was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. “Fine. I’ll ask him as a friend.”

“Pansy.”

~

Y/N was never the type to enjoy background noise as she worked, but there was something nostalgic about hearing the identical voices of her local news anchors in the room over as she sat at the kitchen table and worked on a last minute Physics review set. 

“Hey loser,” she called out as she saw a head of blond hair pass by her to get to the kettle. “Care to join me?” 

Draco turned, his mouth open and ready to issue a retort before he appeared to change his mind. He’d been oddly distant lately, avoiding her in the common spaces they often saw each other and choosing to get breakfast and his evening tea at times that he knew she wouldn’t be down in the kitchen for. Perhaps that was the reason why she was sitting at the kitchen table at present, but of course she’d never admit that. Not even to herself. 

“Can’t. I’m a bit busy with work.”

“Draco,” she chided. “What work is it? I can help you, you know.” 

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the scatter of papers on the table and the nearly complete review sheet. “The Physics review is taking me a bit of time,” he said, his tone forced and resigned.

“Go grab it!” She grinned as his scowl deepened. “If you’re nice I’ll let you copy.”

She lost track of time as they went over his work, his pencil marks filling the page with symbols that were unfamiliar to her.

“Your handwriting is really nice,” she noted. “Like, so nice that I feel like you could really make it as a study youtuber or a study blogger or whatever. You have that potential if you want to tap into it, dude.”

“I have no idea what that is,” he said neatly as he punched an equation into her calculator. 

“Fair.”

She sat still for a few more moments, watching as her study partner’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Sylvia’s Halloween party was just a few days away, and she needed to ask him at some point. Every time she mustered up the courage to open her mouth and hitch her breath, the words would die on her tongue. 

The silence weighed heavy in the air as the words of the news anchors floated over…”multiple reports of an armed robbery….suburbs surrounding Cincinnati...cautioned to lock doors...potential link to the missing persons case…”

“Draco,” she said finally. He jolted up from his work to gaze at her. His eyes were probably the prettiest things she’d ever seen--all pale and metallic and silvery. “Uh, I’m going to this Halloween party this Friday. You should come with me, it sounds like it’ll be fun. I think that Heather will be there.”

Y/N mentally groaned at her admission to Heather’s attendance but didn’t know what else to say. She wanted him to come--even if it was so he could spend the whole time being woo-ed over by her.

“Er,” he began, twirling his pencil around his fingers. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Homework, you know.”

“Just finish it before--That’s what I’m doing.”

“I think I’m go--”

The slam of the front door made both of them jump, scattering Y/N’s long forgotten work and threatening to knock Draco’s mug over.

“Hi kids,” Mrs. Y/L/N greeted as she entered the kitchen, an armful of grocery bags in tow. “Studying?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N answered. “By the way, Mom, Sylvia invited me over to her house on Friday for a sort of Halloween get together. Can I go?”

Her mother was silent for a few moments as she methodically unpacked the paper bags on the counter. 

“I don’t see why not. Is Draco coming too?”

“No,” he replied before Y/N even had the chance to open her mouth.

“I don’t think you should be home alone at night, my dear,” said her mother. “Have you seen the news? There’s someone on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were with Y/N--Robert and I are going to an auction that night. We won’t be around.”

“I’ll be fi--”

“If Y/N is going, you’re going,” Mrs. Y/L/N said as she finished unloading and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Her no nonsense demeanor rarely showed itself, but when it did, she was difficult to argue with. 

Y/N shrunk down in her seat as Draco sent her a sour look. 

Sorry she mouthed. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

~ 

“Remind me again why we’re walking?” 

Draco’s snotty tone carried through the crisp fall air as they neared the street that Sylvia lived on. 

“Because,” said Y/N, “Quite frankly, I don’t think I can get through being in an enclosed space with Heather for an entire night without being at least a little buzzed. And I’m not gonna have you drive us home.”

“Hmph.” His dress shoes, odd pointed tips and all, kicked at the fall leaves below them. His costume was literally nothing different than what he wore when he arrived--a crisp white dress shirt, an oddly cut blazer, and a weird looking green and silver pin attached to his lapel. 

“If anyone asks,” she had told him from the hallway as they were getting ready to go that afternoon, “Just say you’re a corporate rat or something.” 

He’d snorted at her choice of clothing--a completely dark brown set up with a picture of a shoe taped to her chest. 

“I’m the shoe that that Iraqi reporter threw at Bush,” she had explained. 

He just stared.

“If you aren’t having fun, please just let me know,” Y/N said as they turned one of the last corners. “We can tell her our fish died or something. Sylvia would totally understand.”

“We don’t have a fish.”

“I know, genius,” she teased, giving him a little punch. Instead of balking, he just crinkled his nose. “But she doesn’t.”

“I think she does.”

“You’re missing the point. You’ll tell me if you want to go back home, promise?”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He grinned as they waited for Sylvia to open the door. 

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. Y/N didn’t drink much at first--maybe the equivalent of 2 or 3 shots, spaced out in between a couple of sips of water--but the energy in Sylvia’s home definitely had her more buzzed than usual. There was something about her home that always felt twice as spooky, a type of underlying energy that pulsed at the seams. 

To her surprise, Draco actually took a cup of whatever Sylvia offered him and downed it. She laughed when she saw him finally lower the cup as he furrowed his brow at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

His features looked softer in the dim lighting of Sylvia’s living room--all the tension that he carried in his shoulders and face seemed to be gone. When he smiled at her, it was all she could do to keep herself from disintegrating into the couch.

As the night wore on, Y/N felt herself getting progressively more tipsy, and, in her haze, she could see that Draco was going down a similar path. He was touchier than she would have expected--hanging onto her elbow or sleeve whenever Sylvia or Y/N said anything funny, not moving his leg when her thigh was pressed against his, stretching his arm out behind her and resting it on the back of the couch--and she found herself wishing she was sober enough for it to feel real. Maybe she was so drunk that she was imagining it all. Maybe she was actually asleep next to her toilet at home after throwing it all up and was just dreaming. 

“Fuck!” Someone exclaimed, prompting her to look up. Abby, a girl she kind of knew from her grade, had spilled the entirety of her drink on the coffee table.

“Y/N,” Sylvia whined, “I’m too tired to get the paper towels. Will you and Draco go?” 

Despite the half-hearted protests from Draco, she managed to haul him up by his arm as she pushed back the pleasure that Sylvia saw them as a sort of team, a sort of unit.

“I think she keeps the extra paper towels in her pantry,” she told him as they made their way over to the quiet part of the house. The light hanging over the kitchen island was on, but the rest of the room was bathed in darkness. 

“Right he--”

Y/N froze as she saw it--or, as she would come to discover, them. 

Heather and Chad stared back at them, looking much more disheveled than one is permitted simply sitting on the kitchen counter. It was hard to make it out clearly, but Heather’s cheeks looked flushed. Chad’s matched.

“In a fucking kitchen? Chad, I thought you were better than this,” Y/N said, turning and grabbing the paper towels from the cabinet behind them. “Get a room, you weirdos.”

Chad laughed, a short lived and awkward sound. 

Once they were back out in the living room, Y/N tossed the paper towels to Sylvia. “I think we’re gonna head back. We have to walk, you know.”

Sylvia dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I suppose. Thanks for coming guys, it was nice to see you outside of class again.”

“Likewise!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out of the door with Draco by her side.

The walk home was silent for the first few moments. Despite the fact that it was late October, the night was pleasantly crisp and not too cold. The only sources of illumination were the scattered street lights, casting a soft orange hue on the two.

As they turn the corner onto the main street, Y/N’s shoe caught on a crack in the pavement in a movement that would’ve sent her sprawling face-first into the cold concrete if it hadn’t been for Draco’s hand grabbing her own and yanking her back up.

“Thanks,” she said. His hands were warmer than usual despite the coolness of the air.

He just sent her a small smile as he untangled their fingers and placed his hand back into his pants pockets.

“Weird to see Chad and Heather, right?” Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. To her surprise, he nudged back.

“I guess. I thought it was obvious, though.”

“What?! No way.”

“Are you blind? Heather’s been all over Chad,” he said.

“Are you? I thought she was obsessed with you!” 

“No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, turning to look at him. The dim glow of the streetlights made his hair look almost like a halo. “She wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Dunno.” Draco shrugged. It was then that Y/N remembered how much he’d had that night.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably not in the right mindset to be analyzing other people right now,” said Y/N. 

His lips twitched upwards. “No, no, it’s ok. I’m fine. I just couldn’t be bothered over the whole ordeal. Entirely uninspiring, I think.”

“You’re such a nerd, even when you’re drunk,” teased Y/N. “It’s honestly a wonder that you spent the first month near failing physics.”

“Sod off.” He nudged her again, hard enough to make her sway. “You’re the one who’s still an insufferable smartass. I figured drinking would make you more tolerable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she muttered as she shoved him back. “You know you love me.”

He froze in the middle of his retaliatory shove, his hand rested on her forearm.

“Sarcasm, king,” said Y/N. “I don’t mean it. I wouldn’t blame you if I were right, though. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite the commodity.” 

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” His tone was dripping in faux genuity as he gave her a gentle push. 

As he was doing this, Y/N grabbed the offending arm and took him down with her, landing in the soft garden bush in poor Ms. McCoyle’s front yard.

“Gotcha!” she cheered as he frowned from his spot on top of her. It took all her might to ignore the fact that his face was inches away. “It’s just my smart physics brain at work.”

 “Your neighbor is gonna kill us.”

“She can try.” 

Draco sat up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. She took the opportunity to hang onto the sleeve of his coat as a sneaking suspicion overtook her that things wouldn’t be like this again without the clever excuse of intoxication. 

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Y/N let go of his sleeve to look up at his face in confusion. She followed his eyes, suddenly hardened with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, to their house at the end of the street.

“You shut the door behind us, right?” Draco asked.

“And locked it.”

Their front door, hanging wide open and swinging in the breeze, told a different story.

~ 

Sobering up was easy once the police sirens showed up and searched their house. Y/N could tell the responding sheriff knew they’d been drinking, but since they weren’t driving and were speaking clearly, he didn’t mention anything.

“We’ve searched the house,” he told them as they sat together outside on the curb. “It looks like it fits the profile of the other armed burglaries in the area, but nothing was taken this time. The bedroom that looks out into the garden is completely trashed--it seems like the suspect was looking through your things for something. The bedroom across the hall was displaced a bit, but nothing compared to the first.” He took another look at his notes, adjusting the thick rimmed glasses that were perched on his nose. “You kids are lucky. Whoever this is means business. There’s unfortunately not much we can do except set up a patrol to watch over the street for now. Please give us a call if you see anything or hear anything.”

They nodded. Y/N had placed a call to their parents while they waited a safe distance from the home for the police to arrive. She’d been shaking as she pressed their number into her phone, and Draco, to his credit, rested his hand on her thigh.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said before retracting it. “Don’t worry.”

Draco seemed considerably calm for someone experiencing a home break in in a foreign country as they made their way into the house. The first responders had left the lights on, and the wash of LED bulbs did nothing to hide the disturbance of her bedroom. Everything of hers was thrown into the middle of the room from her drawers, closet, and dresser. Her laptop, open and plugged in, was left completely untouched.

“Draco,” she said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends, what is it?” 

Y/N noted that he was getting considerably paler as they stood in her doorway. “I don’t think I can sleep here. Knowing what happened. Especially when it’s still a disaster.”

“Understandable.”

His features looked hardened again, like he’d gone through a filter of seriousness. She decided that this was probably her last chance to ask for any act of intimacy before the effects of alcohol dissipated in his system. “And I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“Er...Oh.” He stared at her. “What?”

“I know that this is really awkward, but can I, like, sleep on your floor or something? Just for tonight.” When she swallowed her throat felt painfully dry. “I don’t snore or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

Draco sucked in a long breath, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. Y/N wished she knew what he was thinking about. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” she sang, darting into her room to grab a blanket and a pillow as he watched wordlessly by the doorframe.

The walk to his room was dead silent except for their sounds of shock when they saw the broken glass in the middle of the floor. 

“I think that was from the picture frame,” Y/N said as she carefully walked into the middle of the room. Sure enough, a framed photo of her and their late dog that had been left on the wall was face down on the carpet. 

“Is this when you ask me to sleep in my bed, too?” quipped Draco as he sidestepped the wreckage and sat on the opposite side of the queen mattress.

“Um...we can make a pillow barrier so we don’t touch.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed his blazer over his chair as he took off his shoes and buttonup, leaving nothing but his undershirt and dress pants. “I’m going to get changed. If you’re asleep before I get back, this is me saying goodnight.”

With that, he grabbed something from his dresser and walked into his bathroom, Y/N ripped off the picture of the shoe and placed her phone on the bedside table. Before she knew it, she was completely passed out.

~ 

It was barely dawn when she next woke up. Her head was heavy--no doubt the beginnings of a hangover--but she’d never felt more electrified.

A small huff prompted her to look to her left where Draco was just a few movements away from her. He was very clearly still sleeping, each breath leaving his lips with a whisper. His hand, draped over the covers, was millimeters away from touching her. The pink of the sunrise made his hair, now ruffled and sticking up in the side, glitter in the light. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from his face.

Y/N lay there, admiring the boy sleeping next to her, until the urgency of her situation struck her. She was absolutely parched, and if she wanted to mitigate the damage she’d already done, it was in her best interest to drink a glass of water and take 4 Ibuprofen. 

With a sigh, she quietly slid out from under Draco’s covers and made her way to her room, careful to avoid the glass scattered all about. She knew she had a packet of Ibuprofen somewhere in one of her dresser drawers.

The pile in her room was bigger than she remembered. She began by just throwing her clothes that had been on the ground onto her bed, sorting through everything in rough categories. When this proved unhelpful, she turned to the mini pile by her door which, to her surprise, had a few sweatshirts that definitely weren’t hers.

Draco she thought absentmindedly as she combed through the pile. Aha. A small green pouch, just like the one she kept her over the counter medications in.

Her hands struggled to undo the tie--Did she normally knot it like that?--as she admired the lining. She never noticed that the edges had silver thread stitched in. 

Once she finally opened it up, she grabbed her water bottle and prepared to be faced with a variety of pill bottles as she tipped it over; however, what came out was very different.

A collection of letters. Namely, Draco’s. She knew it was wrong, but he was sleeping, and every letter looked official, stamped with a seal and etched with some sort of crest. They couldn’t have been that personal.

After a bit of bargaining, she decided to open one. If it was personal, she made the deal with herself to put it away and never speak of it again. 

The parchment was heavy and clearly expensive. Her hands were shaking as she unfolded the first one, feeling guilty the whole way.

Foreign words flooded her vision. It wasn’t like the letter was written in a foreign language--but there were so many terms she didn’t understand. 

Death eater...Voldemort...Crimes against the ministry...Conspiracy against Dumbledore...Hogwarts-sanctioned punishment...

She read on until a word popped out that made sense--Magic. And there it was again--Magic. Wizard. Magic.

Swallowing hard, she shoved the letter back into the envelope and opened one more. This one was much more coherent.

“Dear Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:

       It has been made apparent to us that, while serving the punishment of your accused crimes, you have unlawfully used magic (namely, a Glamour spell) in front of a muggle. Consider this to be your first strong warning. One more slip up and the Ministry will be forced to reconsider your dropped sentence of Azkaban.

Sincerely and warmly,

The Ministry of Magic -- Justice Sector”

What. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Her racing mind was put to a screeching halt at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. 

[gloriafc]

Amazing Wife

Jack never expected to let anyone close to his heart, until he met you. You had it the instant he laid his eyes on you.

You're a surgeon, a prodigy attending. You're friends with Miranda and Ben, when she was grumbling under her breath you asked her what was wrong, "Ben forgot to grab his lunch, so now I have to cancel my meeting to take it to him." "I can take it. My shift is almost over. I'm just finishing my paperwork."

You walked into the firehouse and Jack instantly walked over towards you with his charm on. "Can I help you with something?" "I'm just looking for Ben. He forgot his lunch." As soon as you finish your sentence Ben rounds the corner, "Prodigy! What brings you here?" You quickly toss the lunch box to him, "You stressing your wife out." Jack watches the two of you interact a little jealous of Ben for the moment. He instantly perks up when he hears Ben offer you a tour of the place, "Alright. I'll bite, only if theres coffee involved."

When you get to the end of the tour Ben shows you the kitchen where almost everyone is waiting for the girl they noticed instantly caught Jack's attention. They attempt to get to know you, not expecting you to be a super human. "Why does Ben call you prodigy?" "I sort of am. I specialize in multiple areas of surgery. Fetal, peds, gynecology, neuro, and plastics."

It takes Jack a few weeks of begging to get Ben to invite to one of their outings after work. Ben gets Miranda to agree to bring you drinking with everyone.

That night Jack manages to get your number, Ben eventually telling him he couldve just asked him for her number, "But what's the fun in that without the chase."

After a few months you begin dating. And Jack doesnt know how to explain it, but dating you is different than all the other woman hes dated before you. Eventually he figures it's because you're way out of his league, but soon realizes it's because you are different from ever single woman hes dated.

He can see how other men look at you, you're young and successful, and you're hot, what couldn't they want? And normally he'd get jealous but he trusts you with his life. The times he does get jealous or you look like you're getting uncomfortable he'll grab you by your hip and pull you close and he'll refuse to let you go for the rest of the night.

After a few years you get married and he finally knows what it's like to have a family of his own, even if it's just the two of you. You manage to talk him into considering getting a cat. And as much as he hates the idea, and hates how much the cat takes up all of your attention he'd get you another one if you asked.

After being married for two years you find out you're pregnant and at first Jack doesnt know how to feel, he doesnt want to end up like the parents hes never met. But you eventually ease him into the idea and then he couldn't be happier especially when you start to show. He's slightly upset he can't lay his head on your stomach as you watch tv anymore, but he's settled for drawing random shapes on your belly and watching the random movements from your child.

Jack is amazed when hes able to feel the baby kick. He goes as far as feeling it at least once a day minimum, if his hands could permanently stayon your stomach they would.

One day the two of you go separate ways, he heads off to work as you take advantage of your day off and decide to run some errands.

When he gets a call hes talking to Dean about random things like always. When they show up at the scene they get the rundown about the scene. "Three car accident, the last cars brakes failed as they were going down the hill. It rammed into the back of a parked car, that pushed it forward. There was a person walking between the second car and the one in front of it, squishing them." Jack looks at the scene and instantly recognizes your car as the one squished in the middle. Dean does as well and instantly tries to hold Jack back, "Jack you need to calm down." "CALM DOWN! THAT'S MY WIFE AND MY CHILD!" "Hey I get that. But the call says only one person was injured besides the driver." Jack freezes seeing you pop up on the side and start looking at the person stuck between the cars.

Before you realize what's happening you're trapped in two arms, and after a few seconds you realize its Jack from his cologne. You understand immediately what he was thinking and instantly start soothing him, "We're okay. I was inside using the bathroom when it happened okay?" After a few moments Jack's back in action. You get told to stay off to the side because of any fumes that may have been released from the cars. You watch everything happen until the person starts to seize.

You quickly grab a mask and a pair of gloves before climbing over your car and climbing behind the patient. "Y/N get down." "You're pregnant." "That's not safe." "Are any of you a neuro surgeon? This person will continue to seize unless you relieve the pressure in his head, can any of you do burr holes?" When no one answers you continue, "Then I suggest you listen to the pregnant person and get me a drill."

Ben assists you, being the only person with surgical experience, as you do the burr holes. Everyone watches you in amazement as the patient slowly stops to seize as the blood build up is released. You stay behind the person, using your lap as a head rest as they start to move the car off of him. Jack makes you take his jacket when they have to bring out the saw, which gets him scolded at but he could care less, as long as he's keeping you safe. Everyone listens as you talk to the person, keeping him calm. "You two must be married." "What makes you say that?" You laugh when Ben jokes, "Their playful banter?" The guy chuckles as he mindlessly stares at the trees around him, "That's how I was when my wife was pregnant with our first child." You keep the man talking when he sucks in a breath, "How many kids do you have?" "Four. How'd you learn to do that?"

You smile at the man who's referencing to the burr holes you did. "I'm a surgeon at Grey Sloan. Neuro is one of my practices. One of the first things I learned as an intern actually." "Just one of your practices?" You let out a chuckle, "I like working with kids, so I took up pediatrics, then came fetal because why wouldn't a pediatric surgeon know how to fix a baby while it's still in the womb. Then gynecology because I might as well know how to deliver a baby. And finally plastics. Youd be surprised how many kids go through plastic surgery, especially disabled kids." The guy looks at you surprised, the fact that hes literally in a sandwich completely forgotten, "What made you decide to do all that? How'd you manage that?" You chuckle, "Grey Sloan has an amazing program and I jumped at the opportunity. It's sort of what happens when you get told you'd never be able to do something amazing. You prove people wrong and you go above and beyond." "Who told you that?" You let out a chuckle, "An ex actually. My dad wasn't too happy about that one." "What'd he do?" "My mom had to pick him up from jail for smashing every single window on the guys car."

Jack jumps in, "Her moms the one to be scared of though." You let out a laugh as the guy says, "Its always the mom. My wife would murder for our kids." You let out a laugh making the guy smile.

You ride in the ambulance, being one of the only people who'd be able to stabilize the man if he were to start seizing again, and your ride home completely totaled now. When the guy is taken away for surgery Jack bugs Miranda until she agrees to look you over, "Jack I wasnt even in the accident." "You were near it, the fumes and stress cant be good for the baby." Bailey smiles as the two of you go back and forth, "Y/N just lay on the table. You're both stubborn and we'll be here all day if no one stops you two." You give in and lay on the table as she does an ultrasound, the rest of the firehouse watch from the window in amazement as they see the baby on the small screen and they all couldn't be happier that Jack finally got his own family while they also get a niece or nephew, neither of you telling them what you're having just yet.

When the fire station has to leave Miranda is the one who offers to take you home if you're willing to wait for thirty minutes. You make dinner, Jack getting home right on time then you both continue your nights like you usually do. When it's starting to get late you find Jack looking at his laptop, eyebrows furrowed. "What's got you thinking so hard over here?" You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his right shoulder. "Cars? Really?" "We're going to have to replace the one that got totaled today." "Not one with... Military grade metal? Why dont you just look for tanks on sale?" "You think they have room for carseats?" You hit his arm at his joke making him laugh.

You end up going past your due date, so now it's just a waiting game for you both. As Jack is getting ready to go into work, knowing he can't sit still at all, especiallywhen hes so anxious to meet his kid, he finds you in the kitchen hunched over with your eyes closed and face twisted in pain. He immediately starts to rush over but almost slips, he sees the puddle of water on the ground and looks around confused. When he sees the wet spot on your pants it hits him. "When did your water break? We need to get you to the hospital now." You let out a groan when he tries to help you stand up straight, "When you started coming down the stairs."

Jack helps you to the car, before starting to speed his way to the hospital. He calls Sullivan on the way there, "I wont be there today. Y/Ns water broke.... shit. I forgot the hospital bag." You smile in your seat and between breaths say, "It's fine. There's. One in. My locker. Bailey has one. In her. Office. Too."

Jo and Meredith are the ones to see you enter the hospital, both immediately knowing what's happening, "Jo page Carina and get the hospital bag from her locker. I'll take her to the delivery floor."

You're in labor for most of the day, your friends stop by through the day to check on you and give their congratulations. Jack is by your side the whole time, he's a nervous wreck honestly but hes managed to stay calm until you have to start pushing. By dinner time you've welcomed a baby boy, who has very healthy lungs. Your room is filled with balloons from your friends, as you both sit watching the sleeping boy.

Before the night can end you look at the doorway where the firehouse is standing with even more balloons, along with flowers and what smells like stew. "Hey." Dean is the first to push into the room, he quickly hands you the tupperware of stew before turning to his best friend, "Where is my nephew?"

Everyone gives their congratulations as your son is passed around, "What's his name?" Jack immediately says, "Jack jr." You simply roll your eyes and shake your head before looking at the boy who's now in your arms, "Its Jaxon. With an x. Cant let Jack's ego get too big now."

When everyone is gone and it's just your small family in the room you happily lay next to Jack, now able to press your face into his neck without a giant belly in the way. As you're falling asleep you hear Jack say, "Did we really have a baby today?" You smile and kiss his neck, "We became parents today. You became a dad." You chuckle when you hear Jack huff, "That's going to take some time to get used to." "You'll be fine. We have eighteen years to get it right."

[gravity-lifts]

Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang) 

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and  @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!! 

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last. 

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head. 

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt. 

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold. 

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery. 

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this. 

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here. 

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.