#thomas has got a lot on his plate

[horlicks-on-thursdays]

(Bellini is the situationship btw)

[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men As Drivers

Caleb

Caleb is a road rager but he’s subtle about it. He’ll squeeze your thigh reassuringly, flash that dazzling smile, and then point to a peculiar cloud in the sky and ask you to guess what he thinks it looks like. He passes it off like it’s just a fun, little road trip game that he wants to play, but really, he’s distracting you so you don’t see him cut off the asshole in the truck and then make the most menacing eye contact with the driver that a human can possibly make as he passes by them. Then he resumes his smiley self shortly after, with you none the wiser. If you somehow manage to discern the slight increase in speed and ask him about it, he’ll simply say he was speeding up to get you a better view of the clouds you were so preciously naming for him. 

He definitely loads the car up with lots of snacks before a big road trip and STILL gets you more snacks whenever he needs to stop at a gas station because he loves spoiling you and stuffing you full. And speaking of gas, it’s a while before he has to load up because he already filled up the car the day before the trip so he was immediately ready to go. He’s excited for any time he can get with you; he’s not going to let a low tank ruin that. 

If the car gets a flat, you can be sure he’s replacing it himself. You’re not lifting a finger. And if the car needs fixing, you best believe he’ll be splayed out beneath it in an instant, examining all its parts with a keen eye, and in no time at all, it’s good as new. Sometimes you fake that your car needs fixing just to see him all greased up with oil, muscles tense as he cranks away with his tools. 

He definitely lets you pick whatever channel you want on the radio. And when you get tired of listening to ads, he passes you his phone and the aux, and reveals he’s already made a playlist for you with all your favorite songs on it. You didn’t even know you had that many songs you liked, but little do you know, every time you even somewhat enjoyed a song, even if you didn’t say you liked it aloud, even if it was just a bop of your head or a swaying of your hips to show you enjoyed it, he’d already saved the song. He can’t have his princess getting bored. Hell, he’s even got all the lyrics to your favorite songs memorized so he can enjoy himself with you. 

On a rare occasion, if he somehow gets into a car accident (in which case it’s definitely the other driver’s fault, not his; dude can pilot a plane, there’s no way he’s fucking up a car ride, and especially not when you’re in it), he’s very respectful and responsible about exchanging information with the other involved party, but inside, he’s slowly seething that they had the audacity to crash into him with you in the car. Don’t they know you’re precious cargo?

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

Rafayel

Rafayel is a road rager as well, but unlike Caleb, he has no poker face. Or poker mouth. He’ll go on and on about how “they wouldn’t know what a turn signal was even if it got crammed up their butt” and then he’ll call Thomas to continue whining about it. He probably even has their license plate number to give to Thomas. Thomas has no idea what the fuck he is supposed to do with this information but he has to come up with something to satisfy Raf. 

He’s definitely the type to roast what someone’s car looks like. “Who thought that shade of bright yellow was a good idea on a rusty, tin bucket like that?” “I hope they didn’t pay a lot of money for that custom license plate because then they’d be stupid and broke.” “Do you think their windows are so ridiculously tinted that they can’t see my eyes rolling? Because that’d be a shame.”

He definitely over uses his horn even if he’s in the wrong. He also never thinks he’s in the wrong. If he hits a curb, it’s the curb’s fault for being there. 

He also makes up traffic laws that only apply to him. Like how he’s allowed to go 20 over the speed limit if he’s trying to get a good view of the sunset so he can paint it before it goes down. 

He usually lets you be the passenger princess, but when you do drive, he just gazes at you lovingly, tucking the hair away from your face so you can drive safely. He’ll even sketch the way you look so he can immortalize the picture of you smiling as the sun streams in through the window. If you get bored while you’re driving, he’ll entertain you by telling you stories or by describing the scenery on his side of the window. Sometimes, he’ll even combine the two. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. One day, she went into town and she met an…upside down scarecrow.” 

“An…upside down scarecrow?”

“I think someone’s scarecrow just got blown over in the wind. I thought it’d make for a compelling plot point.”

If the weather is bad, he insists on driving. He knows it stresses you out to drive when you can’t see clearly. If you’re at work and the weather is bad, he’ll pick you up. If he’s away on a trip but he knows you’re driving through a storm, he’ll keep you company on the phone to make sure you get home safe. “Just focus on the sound of my voice. Imagine that there’s a big rainbow waiting for you at the end of this storm. It’ll paint the skies in beautiful, bright colors, and you’ll forget there ever was a storm. Just keep talking to me until it passes. Can you do that for me, cutie? You’re almost home, you can do this. And when I get back, maybe we can go look for whatever is at the end of that rainbow, yeah?”

He teased you the first time you got in his car and kept adjusting the settings on his passenger seat, a little higher up, a little lower down, a little farther back, a little farther forward, until it was just right for you, “What are you, Goldilocks?” But once you decided on the most comfortable position to keep the chair in, he didn’t let anyone mess with it from then on. If Thomas or anyone else got in his car and tried to adjust the settings to their liking, he’d tell them to suffer or get in the backseat. He wants you to rely on him more, he wants to be able to pick you up from work or take you out on spontaneous drives, and he can’t do that if you’re uncomfortable in his car, constantly trying to adjust it to the way it was before. 

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

Sylus

Sylus is a fantastic driver. He has to be; he has a million vehicles at his disposal. And sometimes he needs a speedy getaway. 

He definitely knows all the shortcuts and speed traps. And he smoothly weaves in and out of traffic whether he’s on a bike or in a car. He loves when you fall asleep in his passenger seat because he knows it means you trust him to get you home safely and he’s happy he can provide that comfort for you. 

He also travels for work, so he has the traffic laws for multiple countries memorized. Just because he’s not a law-abiding citizen doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to fly under the radar as one, should he wish it. He even knows the languages of the countries he frequents so he can read the street signs with ease and smooth talk his way out of a ticket if a cop decides to pull him over (not that he couldn’t just pay the ticket a million times over in any currency, but he likes to appear unassuming- or as unassuming as one with his height and build can be). He doesn’t draw attention to himself if he doesn’t need to. 

That being said, he does love to speed. It reminds him of flying, with the wind flush against him, and the hum of his bike as calming as the beating of his wings. And now that you’ve begun riding with him, pointing out every mountain and valley and river with nothing less than awe and excitement in your voice at every twist and turn, he’s begun to realize he also loves the way the scenery melts all around him like one, big, oil painting that’s just for his and your viewing as you chase the horizon together. He’s even begun to take the scenic routes more frequently on purpose, just to give you something to smile at. Of course, he’ll deny it if you accuse him of taking the long way just to make you happy. He’ll say something stoic like, “I simply had the time to kill and the means to kill it.” But when you thank him and rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the cherry blossom trees fly by, his heartbeat thunders louder than the motor on his bike. 

Sylus doesn’t see the point -or maybe he just doesn’t really understand- how roadtrip games work, but he shakes his head and gives you a small smile, as he agrees to a million rounds of “I Spy” just because he can’t get enough of the way your eyes light up with glee when you correctly guess what he’s thinking of. Or maybe he’s just amused that such a small thing can bring you such joy. 

Sylus has ONE car that he puts all the stickers you give him on. He can’t very well be driving around town, going to meet his high end associates and business partners, with multiple, doe-eyed crow stickers all over his windows and bumpers, now can he? But he also can’t throw away something you gave him, so what does he do? He deposits them all on one car and uses that car to drive you around, smiling to himself when you’re swinging your feet all cutesy and happy in his passenger seat as you busy yourself examining all the stickers to make sure they’re in tip-top condition. 

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

Zayne

Zayne is such a safe driver that you sometimes accuse him of secretly being a grandma in disguise. He won’t start driving until he knows you’re seatbelted and if you jokingly refuse to put the seat belt on yourself, he will do it for you. He’s not leaving the driveway until he knows you’re safe.

Zayne almost always goes the speed limit and on the rare occasion when he does speed, it’s only for emergencies at the hospital; even then, he only just barely goes over the speed limit. Even if he’s in a rush, he’s as careful as can be because he doesn’t want to cause an accident that will land yet another patient in his operating room. And if you’re in the car? He wouldn’t dare speed and risk your life. Plus, he’d be embarrassed if he got a ticket in front of you anyway; you’d never let him live it down. Breaking News: Grandma Zayne got pulled over for going 5 over the speed limit. 

There is one rule that he will break when driving though. He definitely eats while he’s driving, especially if it’s sweets. He tries to save the snacking for red lights and traffic jams, but sometimes the fresh box of pastries on his passenger seat is just too tempting for him to wait any longer. It’s lucky that as a surgeon he’s so proficient with using both hands, because it’s this skill that allows him to eat with one hand and drive with the other. It’s because of this snacking habit of his that he also keeps his car stocked with plenty of napkins and wipes for when he’s finished eating.

Zayne always calculates how much time it’ll take for him to arrive somewhere including a rough estimation of traffic, and he STILL leaves before the time he is supposed to so that he arrives early. He also gives you advice on your commute, calling you when he notices the traffic is heavier than usual to warn you to leave ahead of schedule. 

Zayne almost never carpools on the way to work because he doesn’t know how long he’ll get stuck at the hospital and he doesn’t want you to get stranded, waiting for him to finish. But that only makes the moments where he does get to ride with you all the more enjoyable. He loves the way your nose scrunches up when you’re annoyed that someone cut you off in traffic. He loves the way you cycle restlessly through the radio stations because you can’t decide on one channel. He’s used to chaos at the hospital, but somehow your chaos is comforting. 

He’s not that much of a road rager himself. He might mutter under his breath that someone was being “utterly ridiculous” but he usually keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s only a drive and he doesn’t feel like wasting the energy it would take to lash out at someone, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruin the mood for you. If he gets the chance to have a moment alone with you, even if it’s just the drive to the store, he will take that chance and he won’t waste it. He’ll ask you how your day has been, how work has been, how life has been, all while you’re sitting in traffic together. If anything, he might pray for the traffic to last longer so he can steal another minute more by your side. 

He loves to tease you about which route is faster. If he tells you to go left and you raise your eyebrow at him and decide to go right because you swear you know better, he will chuckle to himself and just wait for the moment when you cuss under your breath after hitting a particularly large patch of traffic that seemingly came out of nowhere. “You know, I also frequent this grocery store. So I believe I am familiar enough with the road to get there.” He says it so simply, but you know he’s having fun with the whole situation. “I suppose if a certain hunter wasn’t so focused on being right, we might’ve avoided this issue altogether.” A hint of smirk plays on his lips and you decide right then and there that he’s buying all the groceries. Smug bastard. 

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

Xavier

(There is like one tiny minorly mature not explicit line)

Xavier usually takes public transportation; he prefers it because it allows him to zone out when he wants to and it’s less of a hassle than worrying about gas and repairs. But he’s noticed lately that there are things you want to do and things he wants to take you to that would be much more convenient with a car so he finally ended up buying a car for himself. When he first showed it to you, your eyes lit up like the stars and he knew in an instant that it was the right choice. Of course, once you were actually on the road and he saw you make the same face at someone else’s car, he definitely sulked to himself as he drove. But then you made a comment about what a cool feature his heated seats were and he quickly snapped back, proceeding to show off the other cool features in his car until he was satisfied that you weren’t going to go ogle someone else’s car after this. 

Xavier doesn’t usually road rage if he’s driving by himself. He doesn’t have the energy for it. But if you’re in the car, he will glare guns and daggers at whoever dares to tailgate or cut you off.

When you need to get gas, he’ll get out and pump it for you. Partially because he wants to do something for you and partially because once he saw a man hitting on you at the pump when he went in to buy you snacks and he had to restrain himself from getting in the car and running the guy over. 

Some people keep a change of clothing in the backseat of their car, some people keep snacks, Xavier keeps blankets back there. Ever since he discovered his car is fairly pleasant to sleep in, he has kept the car stocked up in case he decides to wait for you after work or running errands and sneak a quick nap in while he waits. He likes it even more when he gets to pull up to a lake or a park and lay the blanket out for the two of you to cuddle beneath while you enjoy the scenery. He could never do that when he was taking the train. He even got a car with a sunroof so you could both look up at the sky together. 

Xavier also fixes your car for you when you need it fixed. Besides the fact that he doesn’t trust the people at the shop to not scam you for every penny you have, advertising new tires and new windows and new wipers and new filters, he also just somehow happens to have a degree in engineering among all of his other skills and he enjoys taking apart pieces and putting them back together in a more efficient way. He enjoys it even more if it helps you. 

Xavier definitely argues with the GPS even though it can’t hear him. “Really? You want me to take a right here? Even though I could’ve sworn there was no right turn here? Interesting. I don’t recall paying so much for a fault system.”

Xavier definitely gets it on in the backseat, front seat, just all over his car really.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @tbaluver @inkytypewriter

[spocks-husband]

Okay, wait, hang on-- we can all agree that Bruce is Autistic, that's common knowledge, no suprise there just look at the man-- but the real question is this; when he was a kid, which of the typical ND Little Kid Hyperfixations™ did he have? Because there are so many fun things we can do with any of them.

Bruce as a marine biology kid. He collected shark teeth, made his parents/Alfred take him to the aquarium all the time, can draw any species of shark from memory, etc. He never talks about this with anyone until one day, after a JLA meeting, he asks Arthur some super obscure question about a species of deep sea jellyfish that was just discovered by the surface world, and Arthur just... Stares at him. Because, sure, Batman knows a lot of random information-- but he's, like... Subtly vibrating with excitement as they talk about it. He's bouncing just a little on his toes. Is he okay.

Bruce as a Greek Mythology kid. He read Percy Jackson OBSESSIVELY and also probably listens to Epic: The Musical in the Batmobile as a fully grown man. The first time he finds out that Circe is real he loses his god damn mind. He starts pestering Diana for "strategic information" about various things from Olympus, but it's so obvious he actually just wants to infodump with her.

Bruce as a Dinosaur kid. He forced his old money parents to buy him khaki explorer clothes so he could dress like a paleontologist all the time (Thomas hated that phase) and owned nearly every Dinosaur Encyclopedia that had ever been written-- he carried his favorite one with him everywhere, full of sticky notes and annotations. Alfred would bury chicken bones in the yard for him to dig up and 'discover' (it made his job harder, but the look on baby Bruce's face made it worth it <3). And then, of course, as an adult, he keeps his robot dinosaur in the Batcave and pretends it's there for as a trophy or whatever-- No it’s not. You just never got over it.

Bruce as a geology kid. I was a crystal-obsessed kid myself, so I'm biased, but still. His parents bought him actual museum-grade crystals and meteorite fragments-- and he loved them, but he had no problem analyzing the rocks on the playground either. He probably had a phase where he was obsessed with earthquakes and tectonic plate science. He absolutely had a tiny rock hammer and a jeweler’s loupe he wore around his neck at all times. It's a whole thing. Oh, and of course as an adult it's still there, just a little bit; He personally designs earthquake-resistant housing for low-income neighborhoods under WayneTech even though he has entire teams of architects to do it for him. When he first finds out about Terra he gets super excited-- and then of course she turns out to be the double agent in The Titans and he's genuinely so sad about it. He gives his kids presents with their birthstones all the time.

I just. I think about little boy Bruce a lot. He's important to me.

[taeaura]

Thomas {Hewitt}'s Interests

From a gal who's hyper fixating on this franchise

So..I'd like to preface this by saying I do not live nor have ever lived in the Deep South or Midwest. BUT, I do visit the midwest often - which doesn't mean much but give me grace 😭🙏

____

Bone Collecting

I used to collect bones when I'd visit my grandparents up in the mountains - It was fun. I feel like he'd do the same {given his 'role'}. We already know he collects ears, teeth, eyeballs, even heads - and most definitely skin; So why not bones? He probably collected bones when he was younger - Maybe with Henrietta, if they happened to be close.

I like to imagine he has a box or shelf full of his 'collections'; He's got a whole museum in there I guarantee it. Some bugs, bones, bone fragments, hides, teeth, claws, rocks n' geodes, all sorts of naturally-occurring treasures.

General Foraging

In TCM 2003, Thomas is seen wearing rings which I doubt are his {though, they fit him pretty well}. He probably stole them from a victim - And he most definitely kept that engagement ring from Kemper. He'll take clothes, jewelry, books, photographs, toys, drawing utensils, wildflowers, bugs, abandoned artifacts, anything he likes really. He'd go HAM in a thrift shop, trust. I've been to thrift shops in the midwest - They are gold; Lots of old pictures, some racist things {which I do NOT thing are gold}, old jewelry, lots of gemstones, bones, license plates, clothes {obviously}, letters, toys, paintings / posters, vinyls, CDs, furniture, old guns, bullet shells, all kinds of forgotten treasures. I think Tommy would like it if the store was empty..

Sewing

This one's obvious - Thomas uses sewing as a form of catharsis; A way to transform himself just as he transforms the scraps of leather. We see his sewing machine in his room, along with mannequins and mannequin heads; Indicating sewing is something he does often. I doubt he only makes mask - Maybe casings, potential jewelry; He'd definitely make something for his partner or a close friend..not so much the family considering they aren't..the most grateful or encouraging.

His {The Family's} Animals

Despite his busy schedule, I'm sure Thomas likes to spend time with the animals on the Hewitt property. The canon animals {that we've seen so far} include Monty's dog {unnamed canonically}, three pigs, and a few chickens. Now, I know there's gonna be a crowd that spews "But Thomas worked in a slaughterhouse!! He wouldn't take kindly to animals!1!1!1!!" Just because I eat meat doesn't mean I don't adore animals - The meat I eat is from a dead animal. I'm quite literally eating its cooked carcass. Thomas is doing the same - Only he's doing the dirty work firsthand.

I don't know how connected he'd be to Monty's dog - considering that dog is with Monty all. the. time. - But he'd be really connected to the 'livestock'. The pigs don't seem too old - not piglets per se but not fully grown either. I assume Thomas or Luda Mae collect the eggs, meaning Thomas sees the animals quite a lot. He doesn't seem like the type to show too much physical {or verbal} affection - But his primary executions are through observation and care. {I headcanon his love languages as acts of service and quality time; Though he appreciates receiving words of affirmation.} He keeps the animals clean, well-fed, and healthy; Whilst occasionally spending time with them outside his daily chores.

Music

Okay, so ! I've been contemplating Thomas' music taste for a bit now, {previously posted about it} and I have a few inklings I'll try to share:

I've seen many people headcanon Thomas as a 'Kernel' {unofficial name for a Korn fan}; And while I love Korn myself, I don't see Thomas in the same light. Maybe he'd like some of their songs, but I envision him as an occasional nu-metal listener. Type O Negative reminds me of Tommy a lot - Don't know why. I don't think he'd listen to them a TON - But more often than Korn, maybe. If we look back to TCM 2003 from 37:10 to 37:20, Thomas plays something of the metal / rock genre. More heavy-metal than anything in MY opinion. Let's forget about timelines for a minute whilst we walk through this.

I previously stated that Thomas would potentially like bands such as Mortician, Alice In Chains, maybe SoundGarden, Metallica, Black Sabbath?, Pantera, Cannibal Corpse, Megadeth - Bands similar to these as well. This might be controversial but I don't think Thomas would mind country music. Hell, I think he'd listen to some Johnny Cash or The Highwaymen if it came on - Some classic, soulful country. It's not like his momma blasts it or anything...

Continuing on the family note; Skynyrd. That's all I have to say.

In all actuality; I'm sure Hoyt's music taste rubs off on Thomas a bit - I'm sure Thomas prefers metal, but he'll listen to rock just the same. Maybe a little Elvis, Skynyrd, AC/DC here and there; He's not too fussy.

____

Anway, ramble ramble, yappa yappa; This has gone on long enough - But I'd happily make more if the people want it {😈🙏}

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Take care 🫀

[strwberri-milk]

Hello!

Can I request about what your headcannons would be if the boys were in a schoolAU instead of the original

(request was inspired by the official post of their info in deepspace academy)

hihi!! i recc you read this set of hcs too!! i honestly kinda sandwhiched my thots of them in a school au in here so these might be a little repeatative/ theyre super short bc i just dont have anything outside of what i already posted awefoaifjaoiawfa did you have anything specific you were seeing?? bc its really hard for me to extrapolate from just like, gen hcs sometimes :(

Zayne's tutoring sessions can go pretty late sometimes. He does use them to do his own homework and also likes them because it forces him to go over concepts over and over and reinforce them in his mind. He's the kind of guy who is super smart but still studies a lot to ensure that he doesn't leave testing up to chance. To him, he wants to make sure that his good grades are the result of his efforts and nothing is left up to chance.

He's a part of a lot of like, academic student bodies or anything that aims to support student's learning. He doesn't have a lot of time to go to social events but he does manage to grab a meal here or there with you. He's just got a lot on his plate to keep him busy. The only time he'll carve out time for social events is if you ask him to come with you and usually that means he's even busier leading up to it trying to get all his work done.

Xavier isn't big into clubs so he doesn't really seem to have many friends. He could totally be convinced to join a club by you though. He has a very tight knit group that would consist of you and Jerimiah. It'd have to be like, childhood friends because he isn't super into making new friends so any new friends he does make are directly introduced to him by his primary friend group.

He much prefers going over to yours or you going over to his place to study or hang out after class. He's the type of friend that basically lives at your house, staying basically until the sun sets. He'll spend the night too if he's allowed to, crashing on the floor of your bedroom. Definitely the kind of friends everyone assumes are dating and have to be convinced if you two aren't.

Rafayel is really standoffish and quiet so people just like, think of him as the really hot but also really scary guy. People don't really talk to him directly unless they really have guts to get cussed out by him if he's in an especially bad mood because he really doesn't care how people perceive him.

He really only talks to you and Thomas, and teachers also aren't safe. He's nice enough not to do anything to antagonise the teachers but he also isn't really an active participant in their classes. If they want him to participate then it's generally on his terms but when he does participate he's surprisingly cooperative when he puts in his two cents.

Sylus is popular and in that cool kid way. He's intimidating because everyone knows him and wants to talk to him and he also knows that he's popular. He doesn't really do anything with it, just acting like people aren't desperately trying to get his attention. He doesn't pay it any mind, ignoring it because it doesn't really matter to him.

He doesn't seem like he cares about classes but he actually kinda does. He doesn't work as hard as Zayne because he's smart enough and willing to leave things up to chance if needed to study. He excels primarily at classes that challenge him or require him to work with his hands as the mental stimulation keeps him focused.

He gets invited to parties a lot. The question becomes whether or not he'll attend - and generally he'll only go if you're there too. If you aren't there he really doesn't see any purpose in showing up.

[calummss]

Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

[patootle]

Hello how are you??

I hope you are doing well 😊😊

I saw your request is open soooo I want to ask if it's okay.. 🫣

I want something cute to melt my heart with, so here is my request:

In many cultures feeding your significant other with your hand is considered to be a love language (also I think it's sooo cute)

So how about we feed our hubby or boyfriend (pick which one you like) for the first time and see there reaction

With of course wrio & Thoma & alhaitham

And Thank you 🌹🌹

Thanks for requesting !!! I THINK THIS IS SO CUYDUEYEETE

Reader feeding their S/O for the first time!

Ft. Wrio, Thoma, And Alhaitham☺️

wriothesley

You and Wrio had cooked together to make some delicious food. You, yourself were surprised that Wrio couldn’t cook, but with all the time he has

“Wrioo, open wide!” You held a spoon at his mouth with food. He was taken aback by your sudden action, but opened his mouth without hesitation.

“Mmm, I want more. Feed me more” He smiled at you.

“Well you have to wait! After we are done with cooking then I’ll feed you.” After that Wrio wouldn’t stop bugging you to feed him. After you guys finally finished cooking he say down.

“Can you feed me now?” he asked. You laughed

“Yes I can now” You grabbed a spoon and scooped some mashed potatoes and fed him.

“More, feed me more.” He opened his mouth.

“Dont swallow it too fast, wouldn’t want you to choke” You kissed his forehead.

Thoma

Usually Thoma would be the one cooking but that wasn’t the case when he got home. When he went to the kitchen, he saw you cooking some food.

“Hm? What are you doing?” Thoma peaks over your shoulders.

“I just got finished making food” you smiled and placed his and yours food onto a plate then sets them on the table. Thoma sat down at the table excited on what you have made.

“This smells good, Could you pass me some chopsticks darling?” You nod and grabbed some chopsticks. But before you handed it to him you picked up a piece and held it to his mouth.

“Open wide” Thoma grinned and opened his mouth.

“Mmm, this is delicious!” you smiled.

"Of course it is, my mom taught me how to make it"

"Really? Your mom must be a really good cook!" Thoma grinned. Your mom didn’t teach you to make it. But you of course wont tell him.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham came home from a long day at the akademiya, he didn’t expect you to be in his house with Kaveh.

“Hi Haitham, How was your day today?” You led him to the dining table where there was food waiting to be eaten, but Kaveh was already trying to eat everything before Alhaitham could get a chance to eat.

“It was okay I guess” He always said the same thing when you ask him every day.

“But why did you let Kaveh eat too?” He looked at Kaveh in disgust while he was eating. Kaveh looked back at Alhaitham frowning.

“Well this food is delicious! And I helped make food too!” He crossed his arms.

“He deserves some credit, he got the ingredients for the food and he also asked.” You scooped some food onto a spoon and angles it near his mouth.

“Open wide” He opens a bit, just enough for the spoon to go in. There was a change in his expression but it wasn’t too obvious.

“Why don’t you cook often?” Alhaitham asked you while opening his mouth again for more. You scooped again then fed him.

“Cooking everyday can be a hassle”

“Get a room you two!” Kaveh shouted covering his eyes. He was clearly disgusted of the view in front of him.

Sorry once again, this is really late. Lots of motivation trouble. I’ll try to write more!!

[withwritersblock]

Blessed

~Blessed by Thomas Rhett~

Author's Note: been a long week and a lack of creativity but here's some nate magic Summary: Y/N travels to Dallas for game one Warnings: none Word Count: 2,230 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader

It was late and she tried to stay awake. It was well past two in the morning and it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. She was ready, waiting in her scarlett red lingerie. She sprawled out onto the bed in different poses, trying to show off the new lingerie she had bought.

But as the minutes ticked by, it was starting to get harder and harder to stay awake. She had fallen asleep between two-thirty and three-thirty, she wasn’t sure. “Baby,” she heard a voice, she jolted awake panickly looking around for only a second before she met Nate’s gaze. He had a wide smile on his lips as he rested his hand onto her waist. “This new?” he asked as he slowly trailed his fingertips up her side.

“It was,” she whispered as she leaned backwards, leaning her body against the headboard, “I bought it for when you made it to the second round,” she mumbled. He chuckle shyly as he tossed his hoodie from his frame. He quickly climbed on top of her, hovering over her frame.

“And how did you know we would make it?” he asked as he bumped his nose against hers. She giggled as she leaned her head back. 

“Because I know you Nathan Mackinnon,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through the ends of his hair. He rolled his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her delicately. 

“You know me?” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again. She hummed against his lips. She pulled away, putting her hand against her lips. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly, “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I just have to get used to this again,” she mumbled as she slowly ran her thumb across his jawline. The playoff beard already long and only going to get longer. He chuckled as he tilted his head to the side, showing the beard off. “I do like it,” she mumbled as she continued running her thumb across the scruff of beard.

“Maybe I should start growing it out more,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her hand, kissing her fingertips.

“Yes, you should,” she let out confidently as she pulled him towards her, kissing him urgently. “And so I can stop getting acne around my mouth because of this thing,” she said as she took a hold of his chin. He chuckled before he kissed her urgently again.

~one week later~

It was announced Sunday night that the Avs would be facing the Stars. Which was a huge deal for Y/N because she was from Dallas. Her entire family were huge Stars fans, they had season tickets and everything. Y/N had a few Stars gear saved but over the years it was replaced by Avalanche gear and his jerseys. 

Her family brought up the idea that she spent a few days in Dallas to visit her family and to watch Nate. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

“Did you give it any more thought on traveling to Dallas?” Nate asked as he stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. She looked his toned frame up and down and felt her cheeks flush. 

“N-no, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate at work right now, Love. But the girls and I will be watching,” she mumbled as she stood up from the bed. She wandered towards him, delicately resting her hand onto his bicep. He pouted his lips as he tilted his head back. He looked down towards her, clenching his jaw slightly.

“I was kinda excited that there was going to be at least one Y/L/N in the building rooting for me,” he let out while licking his lips. She rolled her eyes as she smiled. 

“You know, my mom will be wearing your jersey with a Stars hat so there’s that,” she offered as she continued running her hand slowly up and down his arm. 

“Your little brother has an Oettinger jersey so there’s that,” he mumbled a toothy grin on his lips. “At least he’ll have twenty-nine on his jersey,” he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her towards him. 

“We’ll all be at Landy’s house cheering you guys on,” she mumbled, puckering her lips forward. He smirked before he leaned towards her kissing her gently.

“I gotta go finish getting ready,” he whispered against her lips. She gently rested her hand against his cheek, running her fingers across the scruff of the beard on his face.

“How much time do we have before we reach your almost late for the plane time?” she met his gaze, raising her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes before he took a hold of her head with both of his hands. He pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently.

“Maybe twenty minutes,” he whispered against her lips, He guided her towards the mattress. “I need you,” he muttered.

“Do you now?” she mumbled, he hummed against her lips.

~~~

The plane ride Tuesday morning was filled with Avs fans. It was loud and rowdy well before the game even started. The flight was at eight in the morning and lot more excited than she was. It was too early in the morning for her to fully process that she was even awake. 

She texted with Nate early in the morning about how she would be stuck in the office all day and wouldn’t be able to talk until before his game. There have been many days where work would be too much to handle and she wouldn’t be able to talk to him. He understood and went about his business.

This time she was only thirty minutes from landing in Dallas to visit her family and support her fiance. She was getting giddy and quite literally was bouncing up and down without realizing it. 

The older gentlemen beside her delicately tapped his hand against her arm. Her eyes widened as she pulled the headphone away from her ear. He smiled widely. “Don’t mean to pry but you seem like you’re actually vibrating,” 

Y/N chuckled nervously, “I-uh I’m visiting family,” she let out. He nodded suspiciously. “And I’m surprising my fiance,” she mumbled. 

“Does your fiance live in Dallas?” he asked. She shook her head. His eyes widened as he glanced down towards his Avs jacket. “Does he play for the Avs?” he pressed further. She smiled ass he felt her cheeks flush. She pulled her phone from her pocket and flashed her phone screen towards the gentleman. “Nathan Mackinnon?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah, we’ve been together since we we’re twenty,” she mumbled.

“He’s a lucky guy,” he muttered nudging her arm teasingly. She smiled awkwardly.

Her flight landed after another thirty minutes and she was manuvering through the airport in search of her family. It had been almost a year since she’s seen them. It was crowded but she could spot her family in a crowded room in a second. 

Her little brother, who was not so little anymore, poked above the crowd at six foot five. She giggled as she excitedly jogged over to the four of them. “My older sister! Wow, I didn’t know I had one of those still,” Jason, her little brother, said as he hugged Y/N. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she squeezed her arms tightly around him. 

“Oh shut it,” she said as she shoved him backwards. He rolled his eyes as he smiled widely. She quickly hugged her younger sister, Bethany. 

“Damn, girl, look at you,” Bethany said as she dramatically looked her sister up and down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she hugged her sister once more. Y/N pulled away and walked towards her parents. 

Her mother smiled widely as she began unzipping her coat. “Look what I got made!” she said excitedly. Y/N eyes widened as her mother took the whole coat off to reveal a shirt. It was green on the front and maroon on the back. 

The white words across the front read Go Stars Go but… she quickly spun around to show the maroon on the back with white words read my future son-in-law is Nate Dogg. Y/N’s eyes widened as she let out a loud laugh.

“Oh please tell you showed this to Nate,” Y/N let out while shaking her head. She spun around and met Y/N’s gaze and nodded. “How did he react to that?” she asked as all five of them started walking out of the airport. 

“He said he liked it and said that he wants all of us to have our own versions,” she offered. Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically.

“What did he really say?” she asked.

“He laughed and asked if it was real,” she mumbled.

~~~

They were sitting in their seats in the lower bowl. Her brother and sister beside her. Her brother was wearing his Jake Oettinger jersey and her sister was wearing a Stars hoodie. Y/N was wearing her WAGs jacket with Mackinnon on the back. Her mother was wearing her new shirt and her father was wearing his own Oettinger jersey.

The game was going exactly as Stars fans were hoping it would. The last two minutes in the first and the Stars were up by three to nothing. “I’m sorry, sis, looks like it’s going to be a rough one for ya,” her brother said as they watched a puck drop in the Avs offensive zone.

Y/N smirked as she watched Nate whisper something to Cale. “Yeah, looks that way,” she mumbled as she watched Nate win the draw. The first period slowly came to an end and the Avs quickly skated off of the ice.

“What were they doing out there?” her brother asked as he nudged his arm against hers. 

“They had eight days off, give them a break,” she mumbled as she brought her soda to her lips. 

The intermission seemed to go by fast as the boys were back on the ice. The Avs were playing a lot better, faster, and more aggressive. During the entire second period they outplayed the Stars and began to cut into the deficit with two power play goals. After Cale’s goal, Y/N leaned towards her little brother.

“Yeah rough one,” she teased as she watched Nate skate towards the glass before he leaned down to take the draw. Her brother rolled his head as he leaned his head back as he watched the second period slowly come to an end.

After forty seconds into the third, Nate scores. She jumps into the air cheering. Watching the boys celebrate. Her brother shot up a fist bump, angry that the Avs came back to tie it but happy that it was Nate. Her father was similar. But her sister and her mother excitedly jumped up for the goal. Their seat neighbors were confused until they saw the speciality made WAGs jersey as well as her mother’s shirt.

“That was hot,” her brother mumbled as the game continued. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. 

“You said it,” he let out with a huff of air.

The Avs won in over time and it was one of the greatest goals she has seen them score this season. She jumped in the air and teared up as she watched the entire bench jump onto the ice towards Miles. 

It took another hour for Nate to be done with the post game activities with the team for him to visit Y/N’s family. He promised to get dinner with them after the game. He left the locker room with a wide smile when he saw her family. “Hey guys, sorry about the loss,” he said with a teasing smirk. Her father rolled his eyes as he gave Nate a quick hug. 

Nate’s eyes widened as he saw Y/N waiting beside her brother. “Shut up,” he let out as he pulled away from her dad and quickly walked towards Y/N engulfing her in a hug. “I thought you couldn’t come,” he mumbled as he lifted her in the air. She giggled. 

“Turns out, I’m an excellent liar,” she muttered as pressed her lips against his cheek. “You were amazing,” she mumbled as he pulled away. Keeping his hands on her hips he examined her features. 

“This is a new thing now right? Every away game, you’re coming with? I mean with that win, you’re obviously good luck,” he let out as he scanned her features. She rolled her eyes playfully. He turned his head to the side to look towards her mom’s shirt. He laughed out loud as she spun in a circle showing it off. “Wow, it’s real,” he let out laughing. “That’s awesome,” he mumbled. 

“Just so they know when I cheer for an Avs goal it’s because of my son-in-law,” she said with a wide smile before she walked towards Nate and gave him a hug. “Come on, let’s get to dinner,” she said as Nate excitedly walked back towards Y/N. 

“Woody’s goal? Baby, that was awesome,” Nate let out as he took a hold of her hand. She rolled her eyes.

“Your goal was pretty awesome,” she let out. He nodded as he met her gaze. Gave her a wink before he dragged her closer to him.

[cenittxnadir]

Logan Howlett Canons

I'm trying to make a list of all the canons I know and I have seen on the comics and authors notes about him. This list has the purpose of giving some ideas for your fanfics, works and your own headcanos. I really just like to ramble about my favorite characters and share what I know :). Maybe I'll do one for Kurt. You know the drill; English is not my first language so they might be some orthographic errors

Logan had two half brothers: Dog Logan and Jhon Jr Howlett -who died quite young-

His real father's name is Thomas Logan (her mom had an affair with him while she was married to John Howlett.)

Logan´s relationship with her mother wasn't the best. He was usually neglected by her, but his dad (John) used to love him very much.

Logan had two best friends as a child: Dog Logan and Rose O'Hara (Theres no info if she's related to Miguel O'Hara. Although she was Irish as well. She was Logan's first love, unfortunately he killed her by accident, and yes, Jean resembles a lot to her, that's why Logan felt attracted to her.

In the comics, Logan got the name Wolverine as a nickname from his workmates when he worked in mine, referring to his animalistic way of work. In the movies he got the name from the legend of Kuekuatsheu.

Logan spent a while leaving with a pack of wolves, part of his mutation allows him to communicate with animals in a basic level

Logan has superhumanly acute sense, like the five of them, his skin is more sensible as well as he tastes (Use this information with caution) he can see in the dark with no problem and can get sensory overloaded pretty easily

In the movies, Logan smokes a lot because this helps him to disguise some smells that for him can be overwhelming. In Logan due to his age and loss of his mutation he doesn't smoke that much because strong smells are not a problem anymore

Against the common belief, Logan its quite intelligent, he's a weapons and computer expert

Believe it or not, he is a skilled pilot and a vehicle expert, he can drive pretty much everything and is good at vehicle repair

He had trained Black widow, Rogue, Storm, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Sunspot, Jubilee, Shadowcat and among other in hand-to-hand combat.

Logan is a polyglot. He speaks: English, Japanese, Russian, Mandarin, Cheyenne, Korean, Lakota, Spanish, and Krakoan.

Logan's blood type is O-

Wolverine carries a medical card stating that he is a war veteran who has a metal plate in the head, to help him bypass metal detectors in airports

Logan has used the E-Mail address 'snikt1@xaviers.com' (Love him so much) Also, Deadpool has claimed to have hacked Wolverine's Tumblr account (He knows about us, he is among us, probably he runs a fanfic account, who knows)

Logan have claimed that his biggest and greatest love is beer

Logan burns a lot of calories while healing so needs constant fuel. (He has a big stomach)

Logan had a bunch of biological kids, but the ones that stand out more are Laura, Gabriela (she is Laura's direct younger sister/clone, I love her so much and they like to hang out a lot with Wade) and Daken. They are comics of them together

[emeritusemeritus]

hii! i love your work soo much, you are so talented. both weasley twins x reader, so like both the weasley twins getting jealous because reader has been spending so much time with her male best friend and one night she gets home late and they are mad. (smut and a bit of fluff at the end). so sorry if this is bad this is my first request

Hi my love! Thank you so much, not bad at all! I hope this is what you wanted (I need a very cold shower now) 🖤

Warnings: SMUT, graphic smut; threesomes, PIV, fingering, slightly cumplay, fingering, possessiveness, Dom!sub roles, dominant twins, jealousy, a bit of angst, beginnings of an argument. Swearing. Fluff and smut. Getting fucked in the kitchen. Sorry Dean, I’m sure you’re lovely.

Word count: 3k

Sense of belonging.

Summertime was upon you and as the days got longer and brighter, the temperature increasing, it brought along an endless stream of possibilities and fun.

The twins had been really busy lately, trying to stock up ahead of the impending return to Hogwarts for the students, the few weeks before term time being one of the busiest peaks of the year for them except for Christmas, April fools day and bonfire night. You really shouldn't complain, they were successful, bringing in a lot of money and still took great pleasure in their work. They were inventing all the time, wanting a new product to launch before school resumed and though you were happy for them, you felt like your hadn't truly seen them in weeks.

The days went by in a blur of waking up alone in bed, making yourself a cup of tea and some breakfast, showering alone and then trying to fill your days with work and meeting friends. Occasionally you'd help at the shop when they needed cover but you tended to stick behind the scenes working on the accounts and ordering, with the occasional potion brewing for the big restocks. Every night you'd cook dinner and set aside two plates, eating alone with the company of trashy muggle tv before you cleaned up the kitchen, put the two wrapped plates in the fridge and eventually drifted to bed. If it wasn't for occasionally needing the bathroom in the middle of the night and seeing your two husbands asleep either side of you, you could easily have believed that they never came back to the flat.

You'd tried to surprise them and take them lunch to try and steal some time together in the office but they were always too busy, too close to nailing their project so you stopped bothering. You tried waiting up late at night for them to show but they'd simply given you sleepy smiles and had fallen asleep on the sofa not twenty minutes later when you tried that. And sex? You could hardly remember what that felt like.

To say you were feeling a little neglected was an understatement. So when you ran into Dean Thomas in the Flourish and Botts Friday morning, you didn't hesitate to agree to a proper catch-up with him Saturday evening at the Leaky Cauldron. He'd extended the invitation to your husbands as well and you'd politely thanked him, telling him you'd ask them but in reality you knew there was a slim chance of that actually happening.

You hadn't seen either of your husbands that day from the moment you woke up til the moment you stepped out of the door, slightly dressed up and ready to meet Dean. You'd tried to catch them last night and then again around early morning when the shop was supposed to be quieter but they'd barely even acknowledged your presence. So you left them a note, telling them that you were going out and that you'd be home later.

You had a wonderful time; you'd actually run into Neville and Luna and they had joined you for dinner. You fell easily into conversation, just like the old days, with Dean of course asking about Ginny, your husbands and the shop. Neville and Luna were engaged and you were told all about their wedding plans which completely warmed your heart. You were on high as you walked back to the flat, a smile still on your face after catching up with good friends.

The smile disappeared pretty much as soon as you stepped through the flat, took off your jacket and shoes and found Fred and George sat at the kitchen table, your note placed between them. There’s a tension in the air that you can’t place. They don’t look mad, but they definitely don’t look happy either.

“Oh here she is,” George says, his voice dropping with sarcasm.

“Remembered that you have two husbands have you?” Fred says, his voice even harsher than George’s. You fire up with anger, biting your lip as you look between them with a glare, unable to push down your feelings anymore.

“That’s ironic coming from you two,” you mumble, walking over to the sink to get a glass of water.

“Care to elaborate princess?” Fred says blankly from behind you.

You snort, not believing that they’d really be getting into this now, the biggest hypocrites in all of Diagon Alley.

“Did you forget lately that you had a wife?” You ask, turning to them and looking between them. “She’s about yay high,” You say, gesturing to your height, “* colour hair, surname Weasley.” Your voice holds almost no humour to it now, feeling fired up.

“Yeah I’m looking at her,” Fred says with an equally unamused, expressionless glance.

“Doesn’t seem like her though, our wife’s normally a good girl,” George adds. There it is, that’s what the tension is.

A smirk slowly spreads across your face as you realise what the real issue is- they’re jealous.

You shrug dramatically, placing your glass into the sink, knowing just how to get them, “boys prefer bad girls.”

It’s instantaneous, both of them rising to their feet with the implication of your words.

“Is that right little slut?” George says, beginning to move closer. “Men, like us, prefer our good girl.”

“I reckon she’s forgotten who she belongs to mate,” Fred says, casting a glance at his brother, hanging back a little as a devilish twinkle begins to shine in his eyes.

“Yeah I reckon so,” George agrees, looking up and down your body.

“Have you forgotten sweetheart?” Fred asks teasingly, his bottom lip sticking out just a tad to mock you.

“Probably,” you say defiantly, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Try again,” Fred says darkly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he advances on you, moving in step with his twin as they crowd you, towering over you. Their stares are dark, devilish and hungry have you flushed in seconds as their towering forms loom over you menacingly, both with smirks tugging at their lips as they notice your heaving chest and flushed face.

“Who do you belong to Angel? Hm?” George says, reaching out and pulling up your top over your head, seeing absolutely no resistance from you.

“Fred,” you say breathlessly, having to suck in your cheeks to stop yourself smiling as you watch George’s eyes widen in disbelief.

You gasp as your bra strap pings on your body, Fred’s fingers having purposefully let it go as a mild form of punishment for your act of defiance.

“And?” He pushes. Your eyes never faulted from George’s, allowing a hint of a smile to appear on your face that is a complete contrast to his thunderous glare.

“Bill?” You say innocently and within seconds you are turned around, pressed up against the kitchen counter and spanked, the loud thwack echoing through the kitchen.

Hands begin creeping up your legs and you’ve never been more thankful that you’d chosen a skirt, enjoying the feel of hands creeping up your bare skin under they stop just as they reach the lace of your panties. You feel long fingers begin to touch your pussy through the lace of your underwear and you throw your head back at the sensation, so close to where you need them but not close enough.

“Try again princess,” Fred says in your ear, body pressed against your back so you can feel the bulge of his erection against your bum.

“George, George,” you moan out, just as Fred finds your clit, rubbing it gently through the lace.

“See, told you you were our good girl,” Fred coos, pressing his erection against your bum harder now, giving the most delicious friction.

“Not quite,” George days darkly from the side and after a few seconds, Fred pulls away. Your bra is almost ripped from you leaving your breasts exposed and you’re mercilessly turned around by strong hands so they can see.

When both twins suddenly crouch down in front of you, their mouths instantly fixing upon your breasts, focusing on the pebbled nipples as their tongues dance around the sensitive peaks, you cry out, hands going into their hair to keep them just where you need them.

George’s hand traces up your leg and slips into your underwear, tracing his long fingers through your wet slit as you moan out, his fingers finding your sensitive little nub almost instantly.

“You do you belong to?” George says into the skin of your breast, pulling away to look up at you.

“You, fuck, you, both of you,” you moan out as George’s finger slips inside you at the same time, slowly thrusting as your hips cant trying to get him deeper.

“Good girl.”

“Who’s got you this wet sweetheart?” Fred says, his own fingers joining George’s as he rubs your clit whilst George stretches out out with his fingers, adding a second one slowly.

“You, geor, Fre,” you cry out, not even able to finish their names as they work together, hitting every pleasure point as Fred’s lips wrap around your nipple again and give a harsh suck.

“Not Dean?” George says, not holding back the jealousy.

“No, only you,” you cry out, beginning to feel your climax approaching.

“Not get Angel,” George says, suddenly pulling his hands away, as does Fred, leaving you whining and pouting at their actions.

“Bend over the table,” George instructs and you mindlessly follow his command, cringing as your naked breasts press against the cold wood of the table.

Your skirt is flipped up from behind you, exposing the little strip of lace you’d been wearing underneath until it’s unceremoniously ripped from your body at the side. You gasp, hips lifting up as your pussy is exposed to the air, to their eyes and in no time at all you can feel the head of a cock pressing against your wet lips.

“Tell me darling,” George says from behind you, “who do you belong to?”

“You Georgie!”

Your moan echoes throughout the apartment as the thick head of his cock slips inside you, the slight upward curve of his length making you gasp as it presses directly against your sweet spot inside.

“George!” You cry out as he immediately sets a rough and fast pace, your hands clawing at the table for purchase as your hips repeatedly knock into the side of the table.

“So fucking wet,” George growls from behind you as he fucks into you perfectly. “My fucking good girl, so fucking perfect for us.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, body already clearly worked up from being so expertly fingered earlier. He curses from behind you as your walls clench, squeezing his perfect cock tightly as you writhe and cry out with the ecstasy coursing through you. He lasts about three more thrusts as your pussy bares down on him and you moan out again as his thrusts get sloppy and sporadic as he cums, crying out your name in a whine.

“My little princess fucked out?” You hear from the side and your eyes widen as you realise that Fred had been watching all this time, waiting to pounce as he stands before you naked. George hadn’t even undressed, he’d simply bent you over, unbuttoned his work pants and fucked into you without any care.

“Think you can take me too sweet girl?” He asks, hand ghosting over your back as his twin slips out of you. You nod eagerly, already feeling empty as George’s cum begins leaking out of you and down the skin of your inner thighs.

Instead of getting behind you as you expected, he takes a seat on one of the wooden chairs beside you, beckoning you to join him as he pumps his cock in his hand. The sight has you near drooling, the sight of his long, big fingers wrapped around his thick cock, the wide shoulders and strong upper body so deliciously on display.

You back up from the table and remove your skirt and ripped panties that were clinging to one of your legs. He let’s go of his cock and it bobs back to hit his lower abdomen as he outstretches his hand to help you climb into him, both of you completely naked now.

You rest your legs on his and grab his wide shoulders for support as he grabs the base of his cock, allowing you to sink down on it. He’s slightly wider than George and you cry out at the feel of being stretched out again, your wetness and what’s left of George’s cum acting as lube to allow him to slip straight inside of you, reaching deeper and deeper until he was snugly pressed against your cervix. Your fingers paw at the flesh of his shoulders as he gives you time to adjust, sucking on your breasts in front of his face as you lift one hand and stroke back the hair from his face. He pulls away and looks up at you seating in his lap and there’s a moment that passes where you stare at each other with a smile, pausing to share a passionate kiss whilst his cock nestled deep inside you, your walls already clenching around his big member.

His hands fall to your bum as you slowly begin to lift yourself up until he was almost completely out of you before you quickly sink back down, his length filling you completely. Your loud moans are completely synchronised at the sensation of him fucking all the way into you and as you quickly begin to find a perfect rhythm, you begin to feel completely cock drunk.

Your hips buck on him as you chase the fire in your belly that’s beginning to ignite; feeling as if his cock was filling you completely. Your thighs burn at the exertion of bouncing on him and the sight alone of his scrunched up, pleasure filled face is enough to make you let out a string of moans that sound almost inhuman. You lean forward to kiss him again and the new angle hits something inside you that propels you right over the edge, crying out his name against his lips as you fall completely over the edge.

Your orgasms has nearly subsided but you can’t move anymore, legs burning and tired, as much as you want to keep riding him. He senses your slowing immediately and quickly grabs you by the ass and in a wicked feat of strength, he lifts you and him, keeping his cock deep inside as he placed you onto the edge of the table. You fall back, resting your head on the wood as he grabs your hips and snaps his own into yours, making your breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. He’s unable to look away, eyes dancing between your bouncing tits and your stretched out pussy, all on display for him. He begins to fuck you harder and harder, your cries getting louder as you grab hold of the edge of the table behind you, tits jiggling wildly as he bruises your hips.

“Gonna, fuck, oh fuck baby,” he whines as he watches your right hand snake down and rub circles around your clit, feeling like you could cum again.

“Let me,” you hear from the side and George’s fingers immediately take the place of yours, toying with your clit in the most deliciously sinful way. Fred cock slams into you as he starts to cum before he slams your hips down against his, cock buried right to the end of you as you feel his perfect length twitch and spurt inside of you, filling you with another load of hot cum. The sensation of being filled along with George’s sinful fingers has you reaching your peak again, calling out their names as you fight against Fred’s strong hold, unable to keep your hips still.

Your breathless and sweating, completely fucked out as you mumble their names over and over again. Fred slips out of you and pants as he throws himself back down onto the chair that would undoubtedly need cleaning in the morning.

“Come here Angel,” George says, grabbing your attention as he extends his hands for you to take, pulling you up. He stops and pulls you in for a sweet kiss that only increases your breathlessness as you pull away with half kisses eyes, tired and blissfully fucked out.

“Want a bath?” He says, much softer than he’d been when you entered. You shake your head with a smile, covering your slightly chilly body.

“Pee and bed,” you say, reaching for his hand but this time to entwine your fingers. He gives you a small, shy smile as he brings your entwined hands to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

“Did you have a nice time?” He asks as you hop down from the table, cringing at the wetness you can see on the wood, knowing that you probably shouldn’t have fucked where you eat. You look at him questioningly, not wanting to start an argument but he gives you a little smile that tells you everything is okay.

It’s a little later and you’re cuddled up to Fred on the sofa, having been convinced to stay up with them a little while.

“We are sorry princess, never meant to pull away so much, we just needed to get the new products right snd it’s been none stop,” Fred says, stroking your leg as it rests across his lap.

“It’s okay, I understand,” you say, looking away from the terrible muggle tv show you were watching.

“It won’t happen again,” George says and you smile, reaching out to grab hold of his hand in understanding.

“Better not,” you say, the hint of a devious smirk crossing your face. “Or next time I go out to meet Dean I won’t wear any panties.”

“Bed.”

“Now.”

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances: Forever - Part Twenty of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever. Word Count: 6,153 Tags/Warnings: 18+ implied smut/smut, fluff, a touch of medical/pregnancy concern A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Twenty: Ringing The Alarm

The clinic room was peaceful in its own way—muted tones, soft lighting, the kind of quiet that usually comforted Y/N during her routine check-ups. She sat on the crinkling paper of the exam table, one hand resting absently over the swell of her belly, eyes tracing the mobile hanging from the ceiling above the monitor. A paper cutout of a bear floated in slow, lazy circles. Her baby moved faintly beneath her palm.

She smiled, small and calm.

Until the door opened, and Dr. Thomas entered with her usual warmth—but a touch more weight behind her eyes.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greeted, sitting on her stool and rolling a little closer. “Everything with baby looks great—heartbeat’s strong, measurements are right where they should be. But I want to go over your vitals before you leave.”

Y/N’s smile faltered just slightly. “Okay.”

The doctor folded her hands. “Your blood pressure has increased again—slowly, but steadily since your twelve-week appointment. And I want to talk to you about what that might mean moving forward.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers tightening slightly over her belly.

“We’re not in a danger zone yet,” Dr. Thomas reassured her. “But you’re eighteen weeks, and this kind of trend is something we don’t ignore—especially not in a pregnancy with multiple young children at home, and especially given how preeclampsia develops.”

Y/N’s heart gave a quiet flutter. “You think it might be… that?”

Dr. Thomas was honest but gentle. “It’s too early to say. But preeclampsia can begin showing signs with elevated blood pressure. And while it's most commonly diagnosed in the third trimester, we do sometimes see signs earlier. What’s important now is monitoring closely and adjusting anything we can—diet, rest, stress levels.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, nodding again.

“You’ve already got a lot on your plate—young children, a full house, a partner in law enforcement. You’re not doing anything wrong, Y/N,” she added quickly, seeing the guilt flicker in her patient’s eyes. “This isn’t something you cause. But it is something we need to take seriously. If it progresses, it can become dangerous for both you and the baby.”

“What happens if it does?” Y/N asked quietly.

“Depends on how early, how high, and how fast,” the doctor replied. “Sometimes we can manage it with more frequent monitoring and rest. In more serious cases, it can mean hospitalization. We’d talk about that if we had to. But we’re not there now.”

The room was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the faint rhythmic hum of the monitor still tracking her baby’s heartbeat.

Y/N nodded, the information settling like a quiet weight in her chest—not panic, but a deep awareness. “So we take it seriously. We pay attention.”

Dr. Thomas nodded. “Exactly. You don’t have to live in fear. But don’t brush off the signs either. If you get headaches that don’t go away, sudden swelling, or any changes in vision, you call immediately. And let your partner help. I know it’s hard to slow down, especially when you're used to taking care of everyone else. But now, it’s your turn to be looked after, too.”

Y/N offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes—but it was grateful. “Thank you.”

They scheduled an earlier follow-up, and when she walked out into the Montana daylight, the warmth on her face grounded her a little more.

In the car, she sat still for a beat, processing it all. Not spiraling—but aware. And then she called Beau.

“Hey,” he answered on the first ring. “Everything alright?”

“Mostly,” she said. “Baby’s perfect. But my blood pressure’s climbing again.”

There was silence on the other end. Then, his voice low and firm. “What’d they say?”

She relayed it all—Dr. Thomas’s calm but clear explanation, the mention of preeclampsia, the next steps.

Beau didn’t speak for a long moment. When he did, his voice cracked just enough to reveal how tightly he was holding himself together.

“I’m comin’ home,” he said. “I want to be there with you. We’ll make whatever changes we have to. Just… thank you for tellin’ me. For not carrying it alone.”

“I never do,” she said quietly.

And she didn’t.

Because Beau wasn’t just her husband. He was her partner in all of it—the joy, the mess, the fear, the hope. And now, more than ever, they’d lean on that bond.

Together.

Beau’s truck pulled into the driveway barely an hour after Y/N had returned home. She hadn’t expected him to drop everything, but when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel, saw the familiar silhouette through the window—broad shoulders, purposeful stride—her heart cracked open a little with relief.

She stood in the kitchen, a hand resting on the edge of the counter, the other gently curled over the curve of her belly. Caleb sat in his high chair gnawing on a teether, while Eliza knelt on the floor with crayons spread around her like a battlefield of color, narrating a story about a wolf prince and his magical blueberry crown.

Beau stepped through the front door, his eyes finding hers instantly.

He gave her a small, quiet smile—one of those rare ones that said everything he didn’t need to say aloud. She smiled back, her heart thudding soft with love.

“Hey, Daddy!” Eliza chirped without looking up. “You’re home early! Did the crime-fighting wolves send you back for backup?”

Beau crouched beside her and kissed the top of her head. “They sure did. Needed someone strong to help Mama today.”

“I am strong,” Eliza said seriously, flexing both arms. “But I’m also busy making wolf maps.”

“Then I’ll handle the backup part,” Beau said gently, rising and walking to Y/N.

They met at the kitchen island, his hands reaching for her waist, hers finding his shirt like second nature. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, slow and steady, then pulled back just enough to look at her—really look.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “I am now.”

They stood like that for a moment longer before the soft sound of Caleb babbling brought them back to the present. Beau glanced at the kids and lowered his voice.

“Wanna step outside? Just for a minute.”

She nodded again, and they both moved easily, fluidly—two people used to sharing space and weight and life.

Eliza looked up. “Where are you going?”

“Just outside for a minute, sweetheart,” Y/N said. “You keep working on that map. Daddy and I need to make a plan.”

“A plan for what?”

“For making sure things stay peaceful in the kitchen,” Beau said with a wink.

“Tell the wolves I said hi,” she called after them.

They stepped onto the porch, the door clicking softly behind them. The wind was cool and gentle, brushing across the yard in slow, sweeping breaths.

Beau turned to her, his hand resting over hers on the railing. “Tell me everything. I want to hear it from you.”

So she did—again. Slower this time, more measured. She told him about the rise in blood pressure, the doctor’s concern, the explanation of preeclampsia, the plan for closer monitoring. She repeated Dr. Thomas’s gentle warning about rest, about stress, about slowing down.

And Beau listened, every line in his face drawn tight with focus.

When she finished, he pulled her in again, his hand cradling the back of her head as he pressed a kiss there.

“I hate that I wasn’t there,” he murmured. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she said, tucking her face into his chest. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “You just reminded me how much I love you. And how damn hard I’ll fight to keep you safe.”

They stood like that a moment longer—quiet, close, anchored.

Then Beau exhaled and gently pulled back. “Alright. We keep things calm. Keep meals easy. You stay off your feet when you can. I’ll handle more with the kids. We do this smart.”

Y/N looked up at him, warmth blooming in her chest. “We already do.”

Inside, Eliza’s voice echoed faintly—something about a crown that needed polishing.

They both smiled, then slipped back into the house, side by side, ready to keep walking forward.

Together.

That evening, after the children were in bed and the house had grown still, Beau stood alone in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a notepad in hand and the weight of the day quietly settled on his shoulders.

The porch light cast long shadows across the floor, and in the hush that followed bedtime lullabies and sleepy whispers, he let himself think—really think—about what Y/N needed, and how he could give it to her without her feeling like the world had shifted too much beneath her feet.

She wouldn’t ask him to change anything. He knew that. She’d downplay the pressure, the fatigue, the slow increase in blood pressure as just another hurdle. That was who she was—steady, resilient, fiercely protective of the normal, even when it cost her everything.

But Beau had seen the flicker of concern in her eyes, the way her hand hovered just a little longer over her belly when she didn’t think anyone was watching.

And that was enough.

He jotted a few notes on the pad—meals he could prep ahead, errands he could handle before coming home from work. He could swap a couple of his longer patrol days with Carter or Jenny, maybe shift his hours just a little. He didn’t need to explain everything—just say it was a family adjustment.

Because it was.

He’d make it work.

He had to.

He opened a cabinet and started pulling down ingredients—nothing elaborate. Just what he needed to prep tomorrow’s dinner in advance. Something warm and easy to reheat. Maybe some soup and roasted vegetables. Comfort food without the work.

He moved quietly, setting things aside, scribbling a grocery list as he went. They had a babysitter for the day after tomorrow—he’d use the time to stock up on meals he could freeze. That way Y/N wouldn’t have to cook unless she wanted to.

He’d even thought about bringing Margaret back for a few days—but not just yet. Not unless Y/N asked. He didn’t want to take away her independence. He just wanted to support it.

After he finished, he rinsed the cutting board and wiped down the counter, the sound of water soft and steady in the sink.

Then he padded down the hall to check on the kids—Caleb fast asleep with one arm flung out, Eliza curled around her favorite plush. He adjusted their blankets, kissed their foreheads, and returned to the bedroom where Y/N lay curled on her side, half-asleep, the softest smile on her lips as she stirred at the sound of his entrance.

“You okay?” she murmured, barely lifting her head.

“Yeah,” he said, stripping down to his T-shirt and boxers before sliding in beside her. “Just made a few notes. Gonna make the next few weeks easier on you.”

“You’re already doing so much,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed again.

Beau slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close until her back fit perfectly against his chest. “I love you,” he said into her hair. “And I’m gonna take care of you, whether you’re carrying a baby or just carrying the whole family like you always do.”

She gave a soft sound of gratitude, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together.

And as the silence folded around them again, Beau let his plans settle deep into his bones—not grand gestures, not dramatic shifts.

Just love.

One steady, quiet adjustment at a time.

The next morning came gently.

No shrieks. No banging of sippy cups or declarations of wolf patrols. Just light filtering through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind that always made the world feel slower, easier.

Beau stirred first.

His arm was already around Y/N, tucked beneath the swell of her belly where it rested naturally in the crook of her side. Her back was warm against his chest, her breaths deep and even, her hair spilling over the pillow in a dark wave. He didn’t move, not yet. He just stayed there, listening to the rhythm of her breathing and the faint, muffled cooing of doves outside the window.

This—this—was what he fought for. The stillness before the noise. The peace that came from knowing she was beside him, safe, warm, alive with the kind of love he still couldn’t fully wrap his hands around.

Y/N shifted slightly, her hand moving to rest over his. “You’re awake.”

“Didn’t want to be,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “But I couldn’t stop watching you sleep.”

She turned a little, just enough to see his face in the soft light. “That’s a little creepy, Sheriff.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling with affection. “The sweetest kind.”

Her smile was slow, tired but real. “Sleep okay?”

“With you? Always.” He moved closer, his hand spreading gently over her bump. “How’re you feelin’ this morning?”

She paused a moment, thoughtful. “Tired. But okay.”

Beau watched her closely. “Really okay?”

Y/N met his gaze, searching it. “I know you’re worried.”

“Damn right I am.”

She sighed, resting her forehead to his. “I don’t want to be treated like I’m breakable.”

“You’re not,” he said softly. “But you’re carryin’ our baby. And I’ve already got two little wild things out there who look up to you like you hung the moon. I can’t—won’t—risk anything happenin’ to you.”

She kissed him then, quiet and slow. “I know.”

He kissed her back with a kind of ache, the kind that only comes from loving someone so deeply it stretches through your bones.

“Then let me take a little more off your plate,” he said against her lips. “Let me handle the grocery runs. The messes. I’ve got a few deputies who owe me favors. And I can move things around with the babysitter for your next appointment.”

Y/N blinked, the words settling slowly in her chest. “You already started planning?”

“I did,” he admitted. “Last night. Just little things. Just so you don’t have to keep holding it all.”

Her eyes shimmered as she whispered, “You’re a good man, Beau Arlen.”

“No,” he murmured, brushing her hair back. “I’m just a man who got lucky enough to love you. And smart enough to not take that for granted.”

She pulled him closer, curling into his warmth. “I love you.”

“I know.” His voice was low, tender. “But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

The rest of the house began to stir—the soft thud of little feet, the giggle of a baby, the faint clang of something being knocked over.

Beau sighed. “That’ll be our wolves.”

Y/N laughed softly, already reaching for the blankets. “Back to the real world.”

He kissed her once more before they sat up—two parents, two partners, two people trying to love each other better than the day before.

And with a smile passed between them, they rose—ready to meet the noise and joy and mess of another day.

Together.

Beau had always been good at reading people.

It came with the job—years of watching body language, listening between the lines, understanding when someone said they were fine but meant anything but. But that skill had only sharpened when it came to Y/N.

He’d known the moment she said “I’m okay” yesterday that she was holding back a little. That she didn’t want to worry him. That she didn’t want to need help.

So now, he was going to help in the way she’d accept—quietly. Steadily. Without making a show of it.

After morning breakfast wrangling and wolf patrol storytelling courtesy of Eliza, Beau kissed his wife softly and headed out the door. He paused with one hand on the knob, looking back.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“I will.”

“You mean it?”

Y/N gave him a look. “Beau.”

He grinned and stepped outside, the door clicking softly behind him.

The day at the department started early, as always. But Beau had arrived an hour ahead of the others. He dropped his bag behind his desk and pulled out the notepad he’d scribbled on the night before.

The first thing he did was place a call to the babysitter they trusted most—the one who knew Eliza’s “wolf rules” and Caleb’s dramatic snack preferences.

“Think you can help out a little more this week?” Beau asked. “Just a few hours, every couple days. Give Y/N a breather.”

The sitter agreed in a heartbeat.

Next, he popped into Doris’s office. She glanced up from her computer, instantly suspicious. “You’re about to ask me for something.”

“I need to swap shifts with Carter next Friday,” Beau said, leaning against the doorway. “Y/N has a follow-up appointment. I want to be there.”

Doris nodded, tapping it into the calendar without question. “Anything else, or just being a responsible husband?”

He smiled faintly. “Both.”

Jenny found him an hour later in the break room, mid-coffee refill.

“You’re in early,” she noted. “Trying to impress someone?”

Beau shrugged. “Got a lot on my plate. Needed the head start.”

She studied him a beat longer, then her tone softened. “How’s Y/N?”

“She’s okay,” he said. “Baby’s okay. But her blood pressure’s creeping up. They’re watching it close. I’m just… trying to make sure I don’t let her carry more than she has to.”

Jenny handed him a new pen from her jacket pocket—one of the good ones. “You’re already doing that just by showing up.”

Back in his office, Beau cleared his schedule as much as he could, pushed unnecessary meetings off his plate, and coordinated with Carter about taking a few patrols off his hands.

By lunch, his notebook had turned into a list of meals to prep, chores to knock out, and quiet plans to give Y/N more space to breathe.

Because she deserved more than just his love.

She deserved his presence. His effort. His partnership.

When Beau pulled into the driveway later that day—an armful of groceries balanced at his side, a bouquet of soft yellow daisies tucked between them—he felt the same weightless peace he always did when he saw that front porch.

Inside was the reason for everything.

And with every adjustment, every shift of his time and his energy, he was telling her without words—

I’ve got you. I always will.

The house was quieter than usual, but not silent. Eliza was in the living room, her latest wolf council meeting currently held between two plushies and a stack of crayons, while Caleb napped in his crib—miraculously, without protest.

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a cup of chamomile tea she hadn’t reheated for once, eyes skimming across the list Beau had left stuck to the fridge that morning.

It was simple. Just a few bullet points scribbled in his familiar, careful hand:

Dinner ideas for the week

Babysitter confirmed for Thursday & Saturday

Eliza’s pre-K forms printed—on my desk

You come first. Let me carry more. I love you.

She blinked at the last line, the words catching somewhere low in her throat.

God, he loved her well.

And it wasn’t just the sweeping gestures or whispered I love yous in bed. It was in the way he noticed when she was too tired to finish folding laundry. In how he picked up more diapers without being asked. In how he spoke with calm certainty when she told him about her rising blood pressure—no panic, just quiet resolve.

This was the man she’d built a life with.

And right now, she was trying—really trying—to let him help her without guilt.

So she let herself slow down.

After breakfast, she’d watched cartoons with Eliza, curled on the couch with her daughter tucked under her arm, both of them munching toast. They’d read two full stories, one of which Eliza insisted she read to Y/N—her words jumbled and mispronounced, but her pride clear.

“You’re resting because the new baby’s growing fast,” Eliza had said matter-of-factly, brushing a crumb from Y/N’s shirt. “It’s okay if you don’t do everything.”

Y/N had smiled and kissed her forehead. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Daddy said it when you were brushing your teeth last night.”

Now, in the quiet that followed, Y/N stood from the table and moved slowly, easing herself into one of the armchairs by the window. She’d resisted resting for rest’s sake, always finding something else that needed to be done. But today—today she listened.

She put her feet up.

She read a few pages of a book.

She closed her eyes for a minute when the sun hit the chair just right.

And when Caleb’s monitor finally crackled to life, she stretched, stood, and moved to his room with the ease of a mother who knew the steps by heart—but with the gentle calm of someone who was finally letting herself breathe.

She scooped him up, nuzzled his cheek, and held him just a moment longer than she had to.

Because this life was beautiful.

Messy. Complicated. Precious.

And for the first time in a while, she felt it fully—without the rush.

Y/N was just finishing wiping down Caleb’s tray after a late afternoon snack—a few abandoned blueberries still clinging to the edge—when she heard the sound of tires on the gravel outside. The familiar engine hum settled into silence, and her breath caught gently in her chest.

She didn’t expect him home yet. Not this early.

A moment later, the front door eased open.

“Hey,” Beau called softly, as if sensing the quiet rhythm of the house and not wanting to disturb it.

Y/N peeked around the corner, Caleb perched on her hip. Eliza popped her head out from behind the couch with a crayon in her hair and glitter stuck to her elbow.

“You’re home,” Y/N said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Surprise,” Beau replied, stepping fully inside. He looked warm and wind-kissed, the faintest line of weariness around his eyes—but something in his expression was brighter. Lighter. “I shuffled things around. Didn’t make sense to stay when I could be here.”

In one hand, he held a brown paper grocery bag. In the other, a small bouquet of soft yellow daisies.

Y/N blinked, touched.

He walked up, kissed her on the cheek, then turned to Caleb. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, giving his son’s round belly a gentle pat. Caleb responded with a delighted squeal and immediately tried to grab the daisies.

“These are for your mama,” Beau said, handing them to Y/N.

“They’re beautiful,” she said softly, brushing her fingers along the petals. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said. “You don’t have to earn rest or softness, Y/N. You deserve it.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, this time lingering a little longer. Then, setting down the groceries, he turned toward Eliza, who had now crept into the kitchen with a suspicious look in her eyes.

“What’s all that?” she asked, pointing to the bag.

“Provisions,” Beau said seriously. “We’ve got soup, fresh bread, a chocolate treat and the ingredients for pancakes tomorrow morning.”

Eliza gasped. “That’s pack celebration food!”

Beau winked. “Exactly.”

He moved with familiar grace through the kitchen—putting the bread away, sliding the soup into the fridge, placing a wrapped chocolate bar high enough that Eliza wouldn’t find it until he handed it over himself. And Y/N stood there, hand on her belly, watching him in quiet wonder.

He had always been good at loving her in the ways that mattered most.

“I made a few more adjustments today,” he said casually as he unpacked. “Shift changes. Babysitter’s lined up through the week. Got the grocery list settled for the next few days, and I’ll take over dinner tomorrow.”

Y/N stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. “Beau.”

He paused.

“You’re not just helping,” she said quietly. “You’re holding us all together. And I see it. I feel it.”

He looked at her then—soft, full—and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m not doing anything more than what you deserve.”

She kissed him again, then pressed Caleb gently into his arms.

“Take this one. He’s been climbing furniture since his nap.”

Beau grinned. “A wild little wolf, huh?”

“The wildest.”

As he moved toward the living room with Caleb tucked against him and Eliza trailing close behind asking questions about pancakes, Y/N gathered the daisies in a jar and set them on the kitchen windowsill. The sun caught the petals just right.

She exhaled slowly.

Loved.

Seen.

And never, ever alone.

Beau sat on the living room floor, his legs stretched out, a toy firetruck resting against one knee, and Caleb crawling in a wide, clumsy circle between him and Eliza. The room pulsed with that cozy afternoon rhythm—sunlight casting warm stripes across the carpet, Eliza narrating a story about “the great wolf feast,” and Caleb occasionally stopping to examine his own fingers like they were new.

Y/N watched from the nearby couch, curled into the cushions with a cup of lukewarm tea in hand and her other resting lightly on her belly. Her smile was lazy, full of that rare sort of peace that came from watching her world be—wild, sweet, noisy, and perfectly intact.

Caleb, still gripping a rubber spoon, paused in front of Beau and looked up with a big, gummy grin.

“Da!” he chirped, tapping Beau’s knee with the spoon.

Beau grinned back. “That’s right, little man.”

But then—without prompting, without fanfare—Caleb turned toward his sister and pointed, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Eliza,” Beau said softly, watching.

Caleb nodded once, almost like he’d made a final decision.

“Ee-sa!”

Beau blinked.

Y/N sat up a little straighter.

Eliza gasped, her crayon rolling off the table. “Did he just—he did! He said my name!”

“Ee-sa!” Caleb repeated proudly, bouncing where he sat.

Beau scooped him up with a laugh, lifting him high in the air. “That’s your sister, alright. You know her now, huh?”

Caleb giggled, delighted by the reaction.

Then, as Beau pulled him in close for a hug, the toddler twisted in his arms and looked toward the couch.

His eyes lit up.

“Mama!”

Y/N froze for just a second, her heart catching so completely it made her breath hitch.

Beau turned, still holding Caleb. “What did you say, buddy?”

Caleb grinned, pointing directly at Y/N, his chubby hand waving.

“Mama.”

Y/N’s smile bloomed slowly, eyes glistening as she set her tea aside and rose to her feet. “Oh, sweetheart…”

She walked over, and Beau lowered Caleb into her arms. The little boy curled into her like he belonged there—which, of course, he did—and tucked his face against her shoulder with a happy little sigh.

Eliza clapped like it was a royal announcement. “He knows all of us now! He said Mama and Da and Ee-sa. That means he’s officially pack-certified!”

Y/N laughed softly, tears threatening the edges of her lashes as she kissed Caleb’s cheek. “You’ve got your whole family in your heart now, don’t you, baby boy?”

Beau wrapped an arm around both of them, his other hand reaching for Eliza to pull her in too. And just like that, they were tangled in a warm, laughing, loving heap of limbs and hearts and words that meant everything.

“Mama,” Caleb murmured again, content and sure.

And Y/N closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the beauty of such a small word carrying such a big, beautiful life inside it.

The scent of rosemary and roasted chicken drifted through the house like an invitation, warm and grounding. Y/N moved through the kitchen at a gentle pace, stirring gravy with one hand, her other resting lightly on the small of her back. Beau hovered close, not hovering in a suffocating way—just present, always ready to step in with a steady hand or a dish towel.

Eliza sat at the dining table, completely engrossed in folding napkins into "wolf scrolls" and assigning each family member an animal title. “Mama,” she said thoughtfully, “you can be the Luna Wolf Queen. Caleb’s the baby Alpha-in-training. And Daddy… you’re the Elder Alpha.”

Beau raised a brow from where he was pouring water into glasses. “Elder?”

Eliza shrugged. “Because you’ve got, you know… those little white hairs in your beard.”

Y/N covered her laugh with a cough. “She’s observant.”

Beau gave Eliza a mock stern look. “That’s distinguished, little wolf.”

“Okay, okay,” Eliza said, waving her hands. “Distinguished Elder Alpha.”

Caleb, bouncing in his high chair, smacked his spoon down and exclaimed, “Ee-sa! Mama! Da!”

Y/N paused in her movements, warmth blooming in her chest all over again. Every time he said it, it struck her fresh. The wonder of it. The rightness.

They sat down to eat, the clink of silverware and the rustle of napkins filling the air between snippets of Eliza’s commentary and Caleb’s delighted babbling. Y/N’s plate was already prepared for her by Beau—he’d made sure she didn’t have to lift a finger more than necessary.

“Everything smells so good,” she said softly, taking a bite and letting herself lean into the moment.

Beau reached across the table, brushing his fingers over hers. “Only the best for my Luna Queen.”

Eliza beamed. “See? I told you the titles made sense!”

As the meal went on, Caleb tried to feed his peas to his stuffed bear. Eliza launched into a dramatic tale involving wolves, forest mushrooms, and a magical teacup. Y/N laughed until her sides ached. Beau wiped mashed carrots off Caleb’s forehead without missing a beat.

The light outside dimmed slowly, golden fading into the dusky lavender of early evening, and still, they lingered—plates half-finished, stories halfway told, love absolutely everywhere.

No one said it aloud, but they all felt it.

This table held more than dinner.

It held belonging.

Y/N leaned into Beau’s side as he stood to clear the dishes, whispering, “Thank you. For this. For today.”

He looked down at her, brushing his lips against her hair. “Thank you for giving me this life.”

And with the children giggling in the background and the last of the warmth lingering in the kitchen, they moved as a unit—this wild, wonderful pack they had created.

Together.

The house had gone still in that way it only ever did after bedtime.

The dishes were done, toys tucked away, and the gentle hum of the baby monitor crackled quietly on the nightstand. The air in their bedroom was cool and quiet, the scent of clean sheets and faint lavender lingering in the space they now called theirs.

Y/N lay curled on her side, already half-drifting when Beau stepped out of the bathroom, towel draped over his shoulders, hair slightly damp. He moved quietly, as he always did in the dark—careful, steady—but when he reached the edge of the bed and saw her watching him, something softened even further in his eyes.

She reached out, fingers grazing the back of his hand. “You’re still awake.”

He slid under the sheets beside her, propping himself on one elbow. “Couldn’t stop thinking.”

“About what?”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, trailing down to rest his hand against her belly. “You. Today. Everything you’re carrying.”

She turned into his touch, her voice soft. “I’m alright, Beau.”

“I know,” he murmured, though the hesitation in his voice lingered. “But still… with your blood pressure, I didn’t want to push. I’ve been holding back. I don’t want to risk anything.”

Y/N shifted closer, threading her hand through his. “Loving me doesn’t put me at risk.”

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw, slow and sure. “Then let me show you I’m okay. Let me remind you that I still need this—need you.”

His breath caught, the tension in his shoulders softening as she guided his hand to her waist. His fingers spread instinctively, anchoring to her. His forehead met hers, and he waited—silent, reverent.

“You sure?” he whispered.

She smiled, her voice low. ���I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”

So he kissed her—slow, lingering, full of everything he couldn’t say with words. And when he touched her next, it was with the kind of tenderness that spoke of knowing every inch of her. Every shift of breath. Every beat of the life they’d built together.

They moved like a memory. No rush. No urgency. Just reverence.

He whispered her name like it was something sacred, his hand splayed across her belly as he moved within her—measured, patient, full of devotion. She held him close, fingertips tracing the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his spine, the heart of the man who never stopped holding her—even when she tried to carry everything alone.

It was quiet between them, soft moans and sighs tucked between kisses and promises spoken only in touch. Their bodies knew the rhythm of love that wasn’t about passion alone—but about presence.

When they came together, it wasn’t a crescendo—it was a deep exhale. A return. A reminder.

After, they lay tangled beneath the covers, limbs still warm, breaths beginning to slow.

Beau brushed the hair from her forehead, still watching her like she might vanish if he blinked. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled, eyes half-closed. “For what?”

“For letting me love you like that,” he whispered. “For being mine.”

She curled closer, her voice the last thread of light before sleep. “Always.”

The first fingers of morning sunlight crept across the bedroom, turning the white sheets a soft, golden hue. Outside, the world was still hushed—no car doors, no barking dogs, no thundering of little feet just yet.

Inside, the bed was a tangle of limbs and warmth, the kind of closeness born from love given and received without walls.

Y/N woke first.

She blinked slowly, savoring the rare stillness, the gentle weight of Beau’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist. His hand rested lightly over the curve of her belly, fingers twitching slightly in sleep, like even in his dreams, he was tethered to her.

She smiled against the pillow, her heart full in that quiet, aching way.

She shifted just enough to turn and face him. Beau slept heavily, his features relaxed, softer than anyone else ever got to see. The faint stubble on his jaw brushed the edge of the pillow, and a few strands of his hair had gone rogue across his forehead. He looked younger like this. Looser.

Beautiful, she thought, pressing a featherlight kiss to his chest where her hand rested.

As if sensing her, he stirred.

His arms tightened around her instinctively, drawing her back into him without even opening his eyes. “Mornin’,” he mumbled, voice gravelly and deep.

“Morning,” she whispered back, nuzzling against him.

For a long stretch of moments, they just lay there—breathing, being. The kind of intimacy that didn’t need words, that wasn’t rushed or heavy with demands. Just there.

Eventually, Beau tilted his head down, brushing his lips against her hair. “You okay?”

She nodded, smiling. “Better than okay.”

He smiled too, slow and lazy. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on lettin’ you outta bed for a while.”

She chuckled softly. “You planning to call in backup at the station? Explain how the Luna Queen declared a family snuggle day?”

He hummed, his chest vibrating beneath her. “Think Doris would understand. Might even send supplies.”

They fell into a slow, easy kiss—no urgency, just tenderness. The kind that spoke of trust, of promises already kept.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N tucked her head under Beau’s chin, her body perfectly molded against his.

Outside the door, faint footsteps padded along the hall, followed by a muffled giggle.

“The wolves are awake,” Y/N whispered.

Beau sighed with theatrical sorrow. “Our peaceful reign has ended.”

But even as Caleb’s babbling and Eliza’s dramatic storytelling filtered through the crack beneath the door, Beau only held her tighter.

“We’ll take it slow today,” he promised, voice a rough, soft vow. “For you. For the baby. For us.”

Y/N smiled against his skin.

She knew he meant it.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe—deep in her bones—that no matter what came next, they’d carry it together.

One quiet, steady morning at a time.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl, @deans-baby-momma, @kickingitwithkirk, @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick

@hobby27, @hellsbratonthet

Want to be a part of this tag list or others? Comment here and I'll add you! And check out my other stories that are currently being written!

[allbark-no-bite]

mr. iceman, sir

icemav (wc: 1.5k)

summary: they called him Iceman for a couple of reasons. Jake is sweating under his stare. a snippet of Jake asking Ice to marry Bradley

warnings: none, mostly just fluff

author’s note: based off of the song ‘Sir’ by Cooper Alan. the first time i heard this song, all i could think of was Jake asking Ice to marry Bradley. thus this was born.

————————————————————————

They called him Iceman for a couple of reasons. 

Ice cold.

A lot of it had to do with his eyes. Thomas Kazansky had a stare that could freeze hell over. They were pale blue—unnervingly so—and bone chilling. It was as if their chill could seep right into you, get under your skin, turn your blood cold and make you a bit sick to your stomach before you even knew what was wrong with you. One glance was enough to bring a grown man to his knees. 

No mistakes.

He had nerves of steel. Nothing surprised him and not much got past him. He was cool and careful and calculated in all scenarios. He'd come face to face with a MiG and not break a sweat. Swing and he wouldn't flinch. He didn't take risks because he didn't need to. He just knew.

Even as a near retired admiral and many years past the days of when he was a young pilot in his prime, Tom liked to think that he still lived up to the name. Even if that meant making Jake Seresin squirm in his seat a little bit. 

The blonde aviator is looking a bit green around the gills if Ice must say so, nervously tugging at the too tight collar of his white polo shirt and glancing over at any and all possible exits of the restaurant when their conversation temporarily dulls down. 

If his husband were here, he would have probably placed a gentle hand on Ice's knee and told him to go easy on the kid. But Maverick is not here. It had been Ice that Jake had nervously approached and shakily asked out to dinner, his voice so tight Ice thought it was going to crack. At first Ice had been unsure of why Jake had chosen him over Maverick. Maverick was obviously the easier choice. It wouldn't have taken much to win him over, maybe a case of beer and a bit of groveling, but certainly not a high-end steak house. But the more Ice thought about it, the more he appreciated the effort. Maybe the kid was smarter than Ice gave him credit for. 

Now they're sitting across from each other at the restaurant, Ice picking at small pieces of his steak and pretending not to notice the young lieutenant's discomfort. Jake had picked out the place himself, a five star wine and steak house that neither of them had ever been to. Even Ice, who had a penchant for treating his husband to lavish dinners simply because he could, had to admit the place was a bit over the top.

Ice had shot an inquisitive, almost accusatory glance over at Jake when the server offered him an Old Fashioned without any prompting. Playing innocent, the twenty-six year old had simply conjured up a look of pure surprise, as if he hadn't been aware that it was the admiral's drink of choice, and then ordered one himself. 

Ice is on to him, but he can't honestly say he's mad about it. 

Jake: I      Ice: 0

Because he doesn't like being played, Ice orders one of the pricier steaks on the menu. Jake winces a little at the price. Much to Ice's amusement, Jake swallows back a bit of dismay and follows suit, asking for brussel sprouts as side instead of green beans. Jake has never touched a brussel sprout in his life. 

Jake: I      Ice: I

They make small talk about work, Ice doing more of the talking than Jake. He doesn't mind, more than used to making the best of work meetings that he doesn't want to be apart of. Jake keeps most of their conversation centered around Ice, asking about his job, which Ice is more than happy to talk about. With retirement closing in, he's gotten more questions about buying a vacation home than anything Navy related.

Jake pushes around the brussel sprouts on his plate, at least making an effort to make it seem as though he's eaten anything in the twenty minutes since they've gotten their food.

Finally, Ice watches as Jake seemingly builds up some courage, swallows back what's left of the whiskey cocktail in his glass, and then sets it back down on the table. 

"Sir, I'm sure you know why I asked you here."

If Jake was hoping that he would get off easy by vaguely hinting at where he was heading with all of this, Ice would give up the oblivious act that he'd been putting on all evening, he's sorely mistaken. Ice stares at him cooly, raising an unimpressed brow.

If Jake could disintegrate into his seat, he would, but somehow he finds the courage to continue.

"I know that Bradley and I have had our moments. We've fought with each other a hell of a lot, but we've also fought to be together, and I think that says more about how much we love each other than anything," Jake says, sounding determined. Ice doesn't stop him so he continues.

 "That year we spent apart after we broke up, that was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life," he admits. "I didn't think I was going to survive it, being apart from him."

Ice knows. He knows because he orchestrated it. The truth is, after the Uranium mission, Bradley screwed up. Ice still isn't quite sure of the details. He doesn't know what or when or who or how or why, but Bradley screwed up and broke things off with Jake a few weeks after the mission. After that, the worst thing for everyone would have been for them to stay stationed in the same place. So Ice sent them both halfway across the country. It killed him to send Bradley away, especially after he and Maverick had only just gotten him back, but it would have looked bad had only Jake been sent away.

 "And so I've never been more sure of anything in my life when I say I want to marry him." Jake swallows. "That is, if you'll let me, sir."

Silently, Ice waits a heartbeat. Then another. He stares at Jake, his fixed expression neither surprised nor relieved. He thumbs fondly at the gold ring on his own finger under the table, the one Maverick put there nearly twenty years ago. With his other hand, he supports his chin, index finger tapping periodically against his temple. 

"You know," Ice finally begins, removing his hand and sitting up straighter. "That no matter how many laws they repeal, what the government say is legal and what's not, it's still going to be hard. In this line of work, people are going to look at you different. They're going to talk to you and talk about you different. This kind of thing, it could very well change the entire trajectory of your career."

For just a second, Jake's green eyes dart away, suddenly interested in a spot on the wall. Ice watches as his throat works and his jaw clenches, but eventually Jake nods, his green eyes coming back to meet Ice's. "I understand that, sir. I think he's worth it."

"I'm not trying to discourage you son. But I've been in this business along time. So has Captain Mitchell. It's no secret that my husband gave up a lot of things when we went public with our relationship. Of course we were later on in our lives than you are, and so I had the time to establish who I was before we got married. Meanwhile, Maverick was doing god knows what," he adds, trying and failing not to picture the many many reports that came across his desk of all of Maverick's escapades during that time. 

That's besides the point at the moment. What he's trying to say is that he wouldn't blame Jake for being a little selfish. Ice knows Bradley. As great of a pilot as he is, that's all he's ever going to be, because he's okay with just being great. He's a lot like Maverick in that way. He'll stop applying for promotions in a few years, spend less and less time in they sky and more with his feet on the ground. He wants to settle down in San Diego sooner than later, raise a family close by to Maverick and Ice.

Ice also knows Jake. Jake, he's a lot like Ice. What's good is not great and great isn't good enough. Jake is ravenous. Ice sees it in the way he flies, the way he acts, the way he talks. If given the choice, he'd never settle. The kid would soar through the ranks if given the opportunity. But also like Ice, he'd give up just about anything for the person that he loves.

Jake has gone quiet from across the table, having gotten the sense of where Ice was heading with this.

Ice clears his throat. "But I'm not going to tell you no, Seresin. Such a thing would be hypocritical of me being that I am a happily married man. That and my husband and I are quite fond of you. We'd be happy to have you in the family."

Even though Jake is trying to conceal his bleary eyes and is making an effort not to smile too hard, his relief is apparent in the way his tense shoulders finally let up. Ice presses his lips together to suppress his own smile.

"I promise I won't let you down, sir."

[yuurivoice]

You’ve probably already answered this question a few times but i cant seem to find it but whats the release order do you plan for the upcoming series like

BSDC, Shattered then EOE?

A distinction worth making, EoE has been a blanket term used for all Evalas stuff but that's not quite right. EoE is specifically the core story with Finn and the collective cast of characters. What is coming first will be Evalas Origins, a collection of smaller, audio only series that introduces the characters of EoE. That's a very recent change to the plan, and it's not a big deal to shorthand it that way, but just wanted to add that point of clarification.

Right now it looks like...

BSDC, which I am reviewing today to finalize the video. An unannounced Evalas Origins one shot, Thomas' origin episode one, and BitterSweet Chapter 4 episode one...these will be shuffled in some way depending on how quickly we manage to wrap the edit on BS4.1 because that one will take priority. Then Shattered episode 1.

That Bones audio will probably slot in somewhere in the mix, but with other things progressing it might have to hold on a little longer. I've got an unannounced Evalas Origin series that I can finally really kick off now that I have some lines I was waiting on, so there will probably be a shift towards hammering those out and progressing on that front.

There's a lot going on. Thomas' series should be about 5 episodes long, but will be at the mercy of other people's schedules as well because collaboration. So that's harder to nail down.

Lots of plates spinning, but I've shifted my philosophy towards "just start swinging" rather than focusing on everything being perfect. The only thing I've held on to was that BSDC needed to come out first, and that's mostly because I've said it was coming for months and I don't want to dampen any other release with people wondering where it's at or when it's coming.

Still determined to have a two week promo window once BSDC is up and scheduled. Will sprinkle in some more goodies before it drops tho. Potentially that's where Bones might appear but it depends on if I get his script done.

There will likely be a livestream where we hype all of this and more prior to BSDC's premiere.

Whew. That's a proper fucking wall of text.

[nelle-y]

Thoma x afab!reader

Synopsis: on your fourth month of pregnancy, you suddenly find yourself bleeding…

C/W: husband!Thoma, afab!reader, miscarriage, major angst, descriptions of blood under the cut, not proofread

Note: i swear if i get sent to the hospital again after posting a fic

—

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Hi, sweetie!” Thoma’s voice came from the kitchen. “Take a seat while I clean up real quick.”

You did as he said and sat down on your place, a feast of a dinner beholding your sight. Three of your favorite meals placed around a bowl of rice, your plates on the opposite sides. Thoma returned shortly and sat at the chair in front of you. You both began to eat the meals he prepared. “So, how are you feeling? Did you drink a lot of water today?”

“Yeah, I did. There were a lot of assholes at work today, though; I was this close to throwing a fit.” You pinch your fingers together with such pressure your nails could break.

He sucked a disapproving breath, “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He held your hand from across the table, offering a look of sympathy. “I wish I could work instead so you can rest here at home. That way, you wouldn’t be stressed at all.”

Reassuring your husband, you tightened your grip as your heart filled with glee. “Thoma, you work two-times harder than me everyday, and you do such a great job at it. Taking care of the house, preparing meals, doing the laundry, and managing our bills—I could never do that as well as you. Besides, whatever stress I have is gone by the end of the day because I get to come home to you.”

Thoma blushes as your sentiment, smiling softly, “I hope our baby has your way with words.”

“And I hope they have your resilience. Your wisdom, your generosity, your face, hair,” you proceed to list all of Thoma’s characteristics, leaving him a red mess.

“Y/N, Y/N, eat up before the baby starts getting greedy,” he said hastily.

You laugh at his bashfulness. “Okay, okay, let me just go to the bathroom first.”

As you walked to the bathroom, light pains from this afternoon irked to your loins—something you didn’t quite pay attention to. After using the toilet, standing up to flush, you see drops of red in the bowl. Your stomach dropped, the pain you felt earlier turned to cramps, your heart thundered in your ears as the threat of sobs stuffed your nose.

You and Thoma had always dreamed of having a family. From the day you both got married, you talked about the future, the house filled with laughter, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. When you found out you were pregnant, Thoma was over the moon. He had picked you up and twirled you around the room, his eyes sparkling with joy and tears.

The months leading up to this moment were filled with anticipation and preparation. Thoma took over most of the household chores, insisting you take it easy. He would cook your favorite meals, rub your feet after a long day at work, and read to the baby every night before bed.

“Do you think they can hear me?” he’d ask, resting his head on your growing belly.

“I’m sure they can,” you’d reply, running your fingers through his hair. “They probably already love you as much as I do.”

As the months went by, Thoma made sure every detail was perfect for the baby’s arrival. He painted the nursery in soft pastel colors, assembled the crib, and even sewed little outfits. He was the epitome of a doting husband and expectant father.

But despite the joy, there were moments of fear. The slight pains that started a few weeks ago had you worried. “It’s probably nothing,” you’d tell yourself, but deep down, a gnawing anxiety grew. You’d mentioned it to Thoma, but he’d always reassure you.

“It’s normal to feel some discomfort,” he’d say, holding your hand. “But if it gets worse, promise me you’ll see a doctor.”

Now, seeing the blood, you felt the weight of all those worries crashing down on you. “Thoma,” you called weakly, then loudly like there was some eldritch horror in your bathroom. You run out, a wheep piercing your throat for a good cry. Groans echoed the walls as cramping turned into stabbing in your stomach. Your husband quickly rushed to you, panicked by your meekly body on the floor.

“Y/N!” Thoma held you in his arms, his eyes shot with worry. “What happened? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

His concern, archons, you could almost hate the man for saying those words. Unable to blink away the tears, you let a sob out from your quivering lip. “No, no, it’s,” he let you cling onto him as you muffled your cries. “They’re…” you can’t bring yourself to say it. Thankfully, he catches on quickly—because why else would you be sobbing on the floor about the baby if not for this?

Thoma, at a loss for words, continues to comfort you in any way he can. He hugs your head on his chest as you sob into him. He rubs your shoulders in hopes to calm you down. All while he was staring at nothing, lost in his own despair.

You both had been looking forward for this baby since you announced your pregnancy. It was all you could talk about before going to sleep. Casper would’ve been their name, and their first best friend would’ve been Taroumaru. Would’ve been.

“They’re gone—Casper…” you cried softly, pained voice muffled in his shirt.

Those words brought an unbelievable amount of pain to Thoma, like a cannonball hit him after he was shot with an arrow. He closed his blurring eyes and let a tear fall on his cheek. He wanted to say it was okay, but it really wasn’t. He and you were not okay, this is not okay. You had just lost your child, your bearing fruit that had been carefully nurtured the day your period didn’t come.

All of it, wasted because of a stressful day, he thought. He blames the work atmosphere, he blames your coworkers for not helping out, he blames the clients for being assholes.

But you were blaming yourself. You should’ve been more careful, more mindful of your limits. You shouldn’t have accepted to handle those clients. You should’ve been stronger for your baby. You blame yourself for destroying a child’s home because you weren’t strong enough.

Through hiccups and sobs, you say, “I’m so sorry, Thoma.”

Your husband snaps back to reality, focusing his attention to you, his beloved spouse who was crumbling before him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N, no need to apologize.”

“But I messed everything up; I got stressed and…” flashbacks of your blood haunt your mind. The aching pains in your stomach didn’t seem to help. Thoma gently lifted your face to meet his eyes, his own filled with tears but also with unwavering love and support.

"Y/N, don't you dare blame yourself for this," Thoma whispered, his voice breaking. "This is not your fault. You did everything you could for our baby. Sometimes... sometimes these things just happen, and when it does, there’s no stopping it. We’ll get through this together, okay?"

His words, though true, were hard to accept in the moment. But Thoma's embrace, his warmth, and his unwavering presence started to chip away at the heavy burden of guilt you carried.

The evening turned somber, the dinner forgotten as you and Thoma held each other, sharing in the profound loss of your unborn child. The future you had envisioned with Casper now seemed like a distant dream, replaced by a void of sadness and longing.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

—the end.—

[bleue-flora]

Was gonna do everyone, but I'm feeling lazy so here's what I got so far for the playdate au character details:

Name - Make Believe Name(s) - Age - Favorite Color - Physical Appearance - Other

Phil - Philza, Dadza - 16 - dark green - greenish blue eyes, gingerish blond hair - when he decides to go outside and play with the kids he tends to wear a silly looking striped hat (mostly though he tends to stay inside and text his girlfriend, Kristen)

Wilbur - WilburSoot (or also Ghostbur, Revivebur) - 13 - Blue - pretty fit and tan (because he’s on the school’s swim team), tall and lanky, brown hair and eyes - almost always wears his colonial style hat and when it’s cold enough his favorite yellow sweater

Sam - Awesamdude, Sam, Sam-nook, The Warden - 12 - green - naturally light brown hair he dyed green, brown eyes - has glasses, wears yellow tee-shirt and green cargo pants that he fills the pockets of with all kinds of handy tools and things, including rocks that he loves to collect, has a fake ruby necklace he loves to wear as well as his crown

Clay - Dream - 11 - lime green - green eyes, dirty blond hair - as he’s autistic he wears comfy clothes only like gym shorts and soft tee-shirts for example and hoodies when it’s cold enough (he will not be caught dead in jeans), used a paper plate with a smile on it to jump scare Tommy once and now it’s his Dream aesthetic

Luke - Punz - 11 - blue - bright blond hair and blue eyes - has a gold necklace he never takes off, his ears are pierced with some gold studs,, his favorite outfit is his ripped black jean shorts and white tee-shirt

Alex - Quackity - 10 - Red - dark brown eyes and black hair, kinda more short stubby - him and his family are mexican, tends to wear classic dark blue and black and doesn’t mind getting dressed up for the occasion, always wears a beanie though, carries a pack of candy cigarettes he pretends to light with a lighter he found, tends to carry a deck of cards and his dad’s old pocket knife, knows a little more than a kid should, has a little scar over his lip from falling face first that Techno turned into a whole lore point

Alexander - Technoblade - 9 - red - blue eyes and dirty blond hair though he tried to dye it an edge red to be cool and it turned out pink instead - he loves to wear his red cape and crown all the time, someone once called him a pig because of his pink hair and after that he added pig ears and nose to his Technoblade look, he also often is seen riding his stick horse steed named Carl, he has glasses that George often steals

Mark - Ranboo - 8 - purple - brown hair, green eyes and super tall and lanky - entire wardrobe is black with lots or variations of black and white, often see with sunglasses and face mask on to be mysterious and of course his crown

Nick - Sapnap - 7 - Orange - brown eyes and unkempt hair that’s just long enough to be annoying that he keeps out of his eyes with his white ninja headband - favorite outfit is black athletic shorts or pants with a flame themed shirt, when it’s cold he’ll wear the same shirts just with a long sleeve black shirt underneath, often carriers around a katana and pretends to be a stealthy ninja

Karl - Karl Jacobs - 7 - purple - light brown hair and blue eyes - when it’s cold he loves to wear his iconic hoodie, he wears lots of fun colors and patterns like the stereotypical stylish gay guy, he has a old stopwatch he likes to carry around

Thomas - Tommy, Tommyinnit - 6 - red - blond hair, blue eyes, tall (for his age) and lanky - likes to wear khaki and that two toned classic tee-shirt, often see with red bandana around his next like some western outlaw and appropriate red devil horns

Toby - Tubbo - 6 - green - bright blond hair and blue eyes - Niki gave him bumble bee barrettes he wears to keep his bangs out of his eyes, he’s very attached to his stuffed pig, can be found wearing cuffed jean shorts or sometimes overalls

George - Gogi - 5 - light blue -  brown eyes and messy hair - always carries around his mushroom patterned blanky, likes wearing his favorite iconic blue shirt and jeans

Current families developed in age order:

Dream, Techno, Sapnap, George

Phil, Wilbur (and surely Fundy needs to be the youngest)

Purpled, Quackity, Slimecicle

Punz, Vikk and Lazar (4 year old twins)

(Ya know based off appearances alone maybe Tubbo and Tommy should be twins?…)

 Others TBD...

[il0veaphr0dite]

ROSES & RINGS

(pictures are not mine credits to the owners)

A/N: I think this is my best written one so far, im very proud of it! I was so close to putting newts name in here but then i remembered 😞. I hope you enjoy and remember my requests are always open!

Warnings: Just fluff and Minho being a sweet boyfriend (not rlly a warning but who cares)

Word count: 1035

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It had been about 8 months since you and the others arrived at the Safe Haven. When the group arrived they all had a tough time adjusting to a new routine, including you. It was hard for everyone to forget about everything and start over from scratch.

In addition to that, Newt’s death was very miserable. His death affected Thomas and Minho the most, they were the trio that helped you and the rest of the gladers escape the maze, and WICKED.

When the group first arrived you all quickly got to work on building huts. Unlike the glade, the island has fewer jobs. The most popular being Builders Doctors, Gardners.

You chose to work in the gardens mostly because you like to be hands-on, working outside is also a bonus since you didn't want to be stuck inside for hours.

On the other hand, Minho works as a builder. You don't really know why but it's not like there's a job as a runner.

The sun was beginning to set when you made your way back to you and Minho’s hut when you were stopped by Brenda. She was walking towards you with a smile on her face.

“Minho said to meet him at the beach,” She spoke before quickly running away.

You stand there confused but you dismiss the behavior.

You headed to the hut first to get cleaned up before you went to the beach.

You walked to the beach not knowing what to expect, but now that you had time to look back on the day you noticed that Brenda wasn't the only one acting weird.

Sonya, who worked with you in the gardens, had been smiling at you a lot and kept asking you what you were doing today.

Now that you noticed all the weird behavior, one question was now in your head.

What do they know that they're not telling you?

That question led you to think about Minho.

Why does he want you to meet him at the beach?

You two would typically meet in your hut and talk about your day before dozing off to sleep but today was different.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You finally made it to the beach, shoving your thoughts to the back of your head.

Your eyes had been trained on your feet while you were deep in thought but when you finally looked up, you saw a blanket on the sand with two plates of food and two glasses full of what you assumed was juice.

Next to the blanket was Minho.

His hair was done nicely and he was dressed neatly in black pants and a clean white shirt, holding a bouquet of roses, your favorite.

You were amazed, stunned.

You then realize you hadn't said anything since you saw him, you walk towards him wrapping your arms around his neck.

His arms instantly wrap around your waist. You take a moment to admire everything he'd done for you.

You pulled away reluctantly.

“What is all this?”

“I thought we could have a little date to get our minds off things,” he spoke, handing the flowers to you followed by a kiss on the cheek.

He led you to the blanket, a few steps away from him. He sits down, holding his hand out for you.

You take it, sitting down next to him on the blanket.

“I wasn't expecting this..” you said, setting down the flowers.

“That’s because I made sure you didn't find out.”

“I was actually suspicious of Sonya and Brenda.”

He looked at you waiting for you to continue.

“They were acting weird, Sonya kept smiling at me and asking me what I was doing today.” you laughed.

“I only told them so they could help me plan this,” he said, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“I guess even someone as amazing as you would need

help sometimes”

“I do need help on rare occasions such as this one”

You laugh nodding your head, you feel eyes on you.

You raised your head to look at Minho but he already staring at you, smiling.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

You turned away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Of those 8 months you were here you and Minho had dated for 7 of those months. You could easily said those were the best 7 months of your life.

Minho was the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Throughout the day he would occasionally come to the gardens to check on you.

He's very touchy (which you love), he always gives you hugs and kisses and well the point is he's an amazing boyfriend.

Minho convinces you to take your shoes off and go into the edge of the water.

“Minho stop!” you said between laughter. He wouldn't stop splashing you with water.

You made a joke and now you regret it as you are being sprayed with water.

After a while, you were starting to get tired.

“I'm going to sit down for a second,” you said walking to the blanket.

“Hold on, you have something in your hair,” he said, stopping you.

“What? Where?” you go to touch your hair but Minho stops you.

He walks up to you “I got it,” he says.

You wait for him to take it out but you don't feel anything.

“Did you get it?”

No response.

“Minho?”

No response.

You turn around to see Minho on one knee holding up a ring.

You were speechless.

“Y/N, From the moment I asked you out to right now I have grown more in love with you each moment of every day. You're the most beautiful woman in the world and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and with that, I want to ask you one question.”

Tears threaten to leave your eyes

“Y/N, Will you marry me?”

You begin nodding your head rapidly.

“Yes!” you finally let out.

You put your hand out as he puts the ring on your finger.

As soon as he stands up you tackle him into a hug.

“I love you so much,” he whispers into your ear.

“I love you too,” you say, kissing his cheek.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆