#tornado voice: I LOVE MY BIG HUSBAND

[cak3o]

I just really like making hornet tall as fuck

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[lunarlando]

girl dad lando doing his babygirl's hair (she has his curls for sure hehe)!! he struggles a little but does a decent job at the end ~ maybe following a tutorial video or wifey is guiding him but creative freedom to you ❤️

so cute, thanks for the request! x

feel free to request more :)

“You’re in charge of one thing before we have to leave for brunch with your family.” 

Lando glances up from where he's laid out on the carpet tickling a wildly giggling Estelle to see you with your hands on your hips. 

You’re still one of the many shirts of his that you’ve resorted to using as pajamas since your currently seven month pregnant belly has popped, and you’re looking at him very pointedly, but he still smiles fondly at the sight of you. It’s just an unconscious thing that his face does, that it’s been doing since the day he met you. 

“Mama!” Estelle squeals, pointing at you excitedly. 

“Hi, my darling!” You wiggle your fingers at her, beaming at your little girl with enthusiasm.

“What’ve you got for me, babe?” 

“Be the best husband ever and do your daughter’s hair.” 

“Pretty sure I already am the best husband ever, but alright. Reckon her hair looks just fine the way it is, don’t you think?” He aims a sideways glance towards the toddler. Estelle’s hair is an exact replica of her father’s, tight curls that like to do whatever they want, as evident by the tornado of brown framing her chubby cheeks at the moment. Lando smacks his lips together, bobbing his head understandingly. “Yeah, okay, I’ll try my best.” 

“Thank you, love.” 

He scoops Estelle off the floor with an over-exaggerated grunt, climbing to his feet with her slung over his shoulder the way she always loves to be held by him. She shakes with peals of cute toddler giggles, patting him on the back surprisingly firm for a one year old, making him groan. “Woah, you’re getting so big and strong, Stell! C'mon, let’s go do your hair.” 

You press a grateful kiss to his cheek as he passes you, booping Estelle’s nose playfully before they make their way down the hall to the bathroom. 

Lando sets Estelle down on the bathroom counter, squinting at the items you’ve left next to the sink for him. A few combs, a small brush, a tiny water mister thing that he has no idea what to do with. 

As if you sense he’s confused, you call from the bedroom, “D’you need some help getting started?” 

“No, no. I’ve got this,” He calls back, grabbing a comb off the counter. “Dada’s got this, doesn’t he, lovebug?” 

Estelle is too preoccupied with looking at herself in the mirror to hear him, though if she did, she probably would’ve said no. He has no idea how to do her hair. Sure, he knows how to do his own hair (barely), and hers is similar to his, but it’s different. 

He pulls up the photo album he’s got on his phone of pictures of Estelle—ones he’s taken, ones you’ve sent him whilst he was away—hoping one of them will help him draw inspiration for today’s look. 

One that particularly catches his eye is a photo from the mini holiday you all took during summer break a few months ago, where Estelle’s springy curls are pulled into two bunches towards the top of her head. From what he remembers, those bunches quickly ended up smeared with applesauce, but they were adorable while they lasted. 

“Think this might be the one, how ‘bout you?” Lando turns the phone towards Estelle, showing her the photo. She aims a gummy smile at him, wiggling around happily. “Yeah, s’cute, innit? Alright, here we go.”

—

“Babe, would you c’mere for a second?” 

Lando’s voice rings out from the bathroom after twenty minutes of silence, save for the occasional giggle. You’re all done getting ready, and as much as you want to pop your head in to see what’s happening, you’ll give your husband the benefit of the doubt. You pad down the hallway as fast as your pregnancy waddle will let you, not knowing what to expect. 

“How’s it going in here, my loves?” 

Lando stands back with his hands propped on his hips, head tilted. “I think I did pretty decent, no?” 

Estelle’s got two tiny sort of space buns on her head, a little messy, but better than you were expecting, given Lando’s inexperience. She leans in your direction upon laying eyes on you, making grabby hands at you until you scoop her up. You shift her in your arms so she can see herself in the large mirror. 

“Look, baby! Who’s that over there?” You coo encouragingly, pointing at her in the mirror with a big smile. Estelle mumbles something unintelligible, patting herself on the chest happily. “That’s right, it’s you! Dada did a fantastic job with your hair, didn’t he? You look so cute!” 

Lando tosses the comb he’s holding behind his back and up over his shoulder, catching it and pretending to run it through his own curls in one smooth motion. “Call me Stell’s personal professional hairstylist.” 

He’s serious about it too, giving a straight face until you manage to come up with a response. 

“Is the racing not working out for you? Had to find another job?” You joke, chuckling lightly. He scoffs, bumping your hip with his. You reach up to give him a kiss on the cheek, then hold Estelle up too. “Give dada a kiss?” 

Estelle knows the word kiss very well. Execution, not so much, but she tries her best as she plants what has to be the world’s wettest kiss to Lando’s cheek too. A younger Lando might’ve wiped the slobber away immediately, but dad Lando has no problem with it. He’s changed a lot since his younger days, especially since becoming a first time parent. 

You’re both still navigating that journey together, but you’ll have a year and then some more experience once baby girl number two makes her arrival in t-minus two months time. But for now, you’ll cherish every moment with Estelle before your focus is split between two kids. 

“Oh, thank you for the kiss, lovebug!” Lando chirps, booping her nose gently. “Usually I’d charge top dollar for a mint hairdo like this, but I’ll take that as payment since you’re so cute. You get it from your mum, don’t ya?” 

“I dunno about that,” You hum, leaning into him. “Her dad’s pretty cute too.” 

You don’t have it in you to tell him one of Estelle’s bunches sits higher than the other, not when he’s smiling down so proudly at the two of you like you’re his world.

[mingis-orangejuice]

Love and Deepspace Boys with an MC that's good with children Part.3: Rafayel

Summary: Rafayel desperately calls you to help him take care of his little nephew. Rafayel can't stand him but how difficult can one little kid be?

a/n: this one is my fave out of all the fics I've written so far. I love drama queen Rafayel. I made him as dramatic as possible, he's literally jealous of a 5-year-old kid cuz you're giving him more attention. Yep that's my man and imma stick beside him

Genres/Warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

Word count: 1173

Other parts: 1, 2, 4

“So what do you say will you help me pretty please?” Rafayel said from the other side of the call. He had called you to ask if you’d help him with his little nephew. He was stuck taking care of him since his cousin and her husband went off on another spontaneous trip. 

“Fine, as long as you pay double, bodyguards don’t babysit for free.” you joked

“Yeah sure double, I’ll even pay triple if you want just get here quickly!” you heard a crash in the background of the call and Rafayel screaming then he hung up.

You were only joking about wanting payment you didn't really think he would agree to it, but that crash had you concerned. Why was he so desperate for your help? How bad can one little kid be?

At Rafayel’s house, you let yourself in with the spare key. You hear your boyfriend yelling, another small voice laughing and the sound of something breaking. You follow the sound to the living room. The whole room was trashed. Mess everywhere, canvases and brushes on the floor, and paint everywhere even on the ceiling. Did a tornado pass through his living room? You see Rafayel chasing a young boy around the room as he causes more trouble “Rafayel what’s going on?”

“Oh thank goodness you’re here” He stops chasing the boy and runs up to you to greet you with a hug “He’s terrible, he’s destroyed everything in my studio I don't know what to do he just won't stop” Rafayel looked like he was almost about to cry.

“Who are you?” the boy stops in front of you “Are you Uncle Rafi’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I am” You bend down and put out your hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetie, what’s your name?” 

The little boy looks up at you with a big smile, completely enamoured by you “I’m Nate. Are you really Uncle Rafi’s girlfriend you’re way too pretty for him” he looks at Rafayel and sticks his tongue out.

“Hey I'll have you know that she is my girlfriend and she loves me, so there!” Rafayel sticks his tongue out at Nate too.

“Stop it you two.” you flick Rafayel’s forehead “You’re the adult in the situation you shouldn’t let him take advantage of you” you scold him as Nate laughs under his breath

“He started it, plus he doesn’t listen, he’s just a bad kid, we should bring him to an orphanage and leave him there,” he says pointing at Nate while hiding behind you.

You sigh and turn to look at Nate. “Nate, sweetie did you mess with your uncle’s art?” he nodded shyly. “That's not very nice now, is it” This time he nodded no. “you know you’re not supposed to do that right?”

“But Uncle Rafi was being so boring, I wanted to play tag but he just wanted to paint. He said he needed silence for his work so he left me in here alone.”

You turn and look at Rafayel. “Is that true?” He also just nods, looking like he was being scolded by his own mother. “Rafayel you can’t just leave him alone with nothing to do, what did you think would happen, he’d just sit there for hours doing nothing? No wonder he did all this, he was bored. You could have at least given him something to do.”

“I don’t know what kids like to do, that's why I called you. You’re so smart and would know exactly what to do to help your boyfriend in need riiight?” he attempted to flatter you so that you’d help him.

You sigh again. “Ok well, first we have to clean up this mess...” 

“I think you should make Nate clean it up himself, to make him learn his lesson” Rafayel glared at Nate.

You gave Rafayel the “mom death stare” and he quickly shut up “We are all going to help clean and then both of you are going to apologize, ok?” 

They both look at each other and then back at you. “Ok,” they both say. reluctantly

Later after the mess had been cleaned, you three sit on the couch exhausted. You hear a little tummy rumble.  You look to Nate “Oh are you hungry, maybe we should make something to eat” You head to the kitchen and Nate follows behind you holding your hand. Rafayel see this and jumps up from the couch trying to get in between you two. You push him away “Raf seriously, you’re jealous of a 5-year-old?” he looks a little embarrassed then quietly takes your other hand on the way to the kitchen. Nate looks over and sticks his tongue out at Rafayel again without you noticing. 

You guys cook up a nice simple meal for you all to enjoy but it wasn’t easy. Throughout the whole thing, they were both fighting for your attention. Rafayel was constantly giving you little kisses while you were trying to cook and Nate would keep pulling you away to get you to lift him up so he could get different ingredients or so he could sit on the counter. You found the little fight amusing so you let it go on since it was harmless.

You’re now sitting at the table to eat and the rivalry is still going on. “Come on just eat the food” it's healthy” Rafayel begs Nate “You need to eat something”

“No! it's yucky. I don’t wanna!” Nate whined and pushed his plate away from him.

“Nate sweetie, can you please eat all your food? If you do then you’ll become strong enough to be a hunter like me” You said with a smile. Nate instantly listens and shoves spoonfuls of food into his mouth. He’s finished in no time.

Rafayel looks at you in disbelief. How did you get this little brat to listen so easily? After Nate finished eating you got him ready for an afternoon nap. He gladly listened to everything you said while constantly glancing over at Rafayel to make sure he knew that he was only going to listen to you and not him. You put Nate in a bed in one of the guest rooms and waited for him to fall asleep. Right before you and Rafayel left the room Nate sleepyily said “ Uncle Rafi You should marry her I want her to be my new auntie.” 

You both look at each other and then back at him. “That’s the plan” Rafayel looks at you and winks. 

“Good,” Nate says right before he drifts off to sleep

You and Rafayel are now back on the couch, he holds your hand and looks into your eyes. “Hey thanks for today, you were a really big help I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you” 

“You don’t have to pay me, at least not with money.” You kiss him and give him a sly grin 

“Careful if you keep that up we’ll end up making another Nate” he laughed and kissed you.

[entertainmentgirl80]

You My Storm Forever (Tyler Owens X Female Reader) 🤠⛈️🩵

Warnings: Weather phobia, little PSTD, some Angst, Some FLUFF at the End.

"Hey honey, I'ma be back, going with the crew again." Tyler has his keys & his hat on.

"Okay babe, please be careful, I love you." You say to him while you clean up the kitchen.

"Love you back." He kisses you on the cheek and heads straight to the door.

So, while your husband is out chasing tornadoes with his crew as usual, you always can't help that anxiety you felt in your stomach that your husband can gets hurt in a tornado especially this time of the year in Oklahoma, however, lucky for y'all, you two live in Atlanta since three years now after you & Tyler gotten married. But it's still didn't change the fact that he still got that wild card personality in him, regardless of who he is because of what he loves to do.

*rings, rings, rings* Your phone is ringing, and you answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sierra, this is Lily, I'm calling you to form you that Tyler is injured from chasing today, and he is in the hospital right now, if you okay to see him."

"Okay, thanks, Lily. I'm otw now." You hung up and grab your keys, and head out to the hospital with no hesitation.

Afterward, you got out of the car after you arrived there. Feelings are overwhelmed that you don't know that he makes it out: alive or dead.

"Hi, I'm looking for Tyler Owens, I'm his wife." You said to the lady in the front desk with lace of concern.

"Hi, Mrs. Owens, your husband has been waiting for you, and he is in room 101." She said to you with a smile.

"Okay, thank you so much."

"You're welcome." She nodded toward you.

*Knock, knock, knock*

"Come on in." Tyler watching TV while on his hospital bed.

As soon you come in, Tyler turns around, and his face changes to a frown to a big, wicked smile because you know he is happy to see his love, especially if you made his day around.

"T!!" You walk towards him

"Baby" He cooed

"What the hell you were thinking about? I'm was so worried that you gonna hurt, especially doing storm chasing an-." Tyler, stop her from talking.

"Hey, hey, hey, shhh, it's alright, look, I'm sorry, we saw a EF2, it's was coming towards me & the crew and all a sudden we got hit by something from the tornado and the truck filp over, and we got out of there quick." He explained.

You are sitting down and processing that your husband is explaining what happened. However, all you know is that you are grateful that your husband is still here and blessed to be alive.

"Don't do me like that again, T, or I will divorce your ass, please." Your voice was stern but soft.

"Aye, aye Mrs. Owens, I love you." He tips off his imaginary hat while having a cheshire cat grin on his features that you can't help but smile at him.

"I love you too, Mr. Tornado Wrangler." You rolled your eyes, but you can't help that you love him, and he gives you a kiss on the lips.

A/N: This is my second fanfiction writing of the Tornado Wrangler, so I'm hope y'all like it. And p.s. also, forgot that I wanna to give credit to the person who made the dividers is @a-reader-and-a-writer 🤠🌪💋😌

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiii! How bout Damian Priest x fem!reader where Damian comes home from a long trip (to France or something like that) and reader and their kid are just hanging and when the kid sees Damian they yell "Papi" and that's like their first words

(I know this is a long request sorrryyyyy :D)

little traitor

being at home with a toddler wasn’t easy, especially when damian was travelling so much. he was going to take a few weeks after clash at the castle and you couldn’t wait for that moment to come but in the meantime you were left alone with your little tornado who couldn’t stay still for a minute.

ella, your daughter, was damian’s copy. she was as energetic as he was. always running around the house, screaming and playing and those months of quite and silence were already forgotten.

but you wouldn’t change anything. your life was perfect as it was.

damian was currently on his way back from backlash and you couldn’t wait to spend a few days with your husband before he had to travel again.

“you know who’s coming home?” you said while rocking your daughter “papi’s coming home very soon!” you said smiling at her “yes, he’s coming home very soon and he will stay with us for a few weeks, aren’t you happy?”

of course, she couldn’t understand all of the words but the sweet voice you used made her laugh.

not even thirty minutes later, damian walked into the house leaving all of his suitcases in the front corridor.

“papi is here!” you picked up ella and went to the front door but damian was faster and stopped you both in the leaving room.

“where are my princesses?” he said with a big smile.

coming home to a family of his own was all he ever wanted. he loved you and he was grateful for the life you had given him.

“i missed you so much…” you said while damian gently kissed your lips.

“i missed you too” he smiled at you “and i missed you too ella! in these past days you got so big! i can’t believe she’s growing so fast” damian said laughing.

you gently laid ella in his arms as she wanted to be held by her daddy.

“i missed you so much princesa” he softly smiled at her.

“pa…pa…papa”

“did she?” you both looked at her in disbelief.

“papa” she happily repeated.

damian was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t believe her first word was papa. you couldn’t neither.

“you little traitor” you softly spoke at her, making her giggle “i’m the one who gave birth to you and not only you are damian’s copy and paste but your first word was papa instead of mama!” she couldn’t understand a single word but the funny tone you used made he laugh.

damian was still shocked.

“damian are you okay?”

“she said papa…”

“yes she did…”

“i can’t believe it” her said while a tear ran down his face. your daughter still laughing in his arms.

“she said papa and not mama, i’m trying not to be offended” you laughed while damian was still in a state of shock.

“i’m about to cry” damian said. you tried your best to contain your laugh but it was hard. you never saw damian acting like that and it was completely new to you “she said papa”

“yeah she did” you laughed.

“of course your first word was going to be papa” he started talking to ella, acting like you weren’t even in the same room as he was “you’re my best friend ella, of course you would say papa first…i’m going to spoil you rotten” he said kissing her little cheeks, making her giggle.

“okay…that’s definitely not how i imagined tonight would have been…” you laughed again.

“what did you imagine?” damian asked, wiping his tears away.

“i imagine you putting ella to sleep and then, after a hot shower, putting me to sleep…but i guess i have to work on that on my own” you teased him.

“not a chance…just let me be happy for a minute please…” he smiled.

“fine fine, enjoy your cute moment together…” you laughed.

you loved watching them together, creating a bond together. deep down you knew that with damian being away so often, ella would have cherished the moments with her daddy a little more and you were okay with that. you loved the little relationship they were creating and you couldn’t wait to see them growing up together.

[builtaworldwithyourlove]

Free Falling

Chapter Four

3.3k+ / (eventual) husband!joel x f!reader /minors dni

‘I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel’

Summary: you take the leap to leave your stagnant relationship, and end up falling into the arms of a man who will give you the life you always dreamed of. 

Content: age gap (reader is mid-late 20s, Joel is late 30s-mid 40s), angst,smut, fluff, oc(reader’s ex-boyfriend and friends/family), mention of reader grieving loss of her dad, swearing, smoking, alcohol consumption, lovely lovely baby boy Joel, reader is a sweetheart, lil time hop, planning Joel’s birthday bash

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Summer was over and the nights were getting longer and colder. Joel was still the man of your dreams, and you were still as infatuated with eachother three months later, as you were at the start. Things were moving slowly, and he hadn’t popped the big girlfriend question yet, but you had both agreed it was just about you two.

Every Sunday you tried to do something together, whether it was a date or a trip to Target and TJ Maxx. Your work schedule was crazy and Joel was held up with a huge work project, but you didn’t mind because you got eachother back at the end of each day. It was a blessing.

Today was Tuesday and you were in the office twiddling your thumbs, planning Joel’s birthday this weekend. The girls group chat was buzzing as your friends helped you with ideas.

The idea which had been stuck in your mind was giving Joel a spare key, but was this okay if you weren’t even his girlfriend yet? You were had fallen for him, and he never fails to make you feel special.

‘Love has no timeline’ your mom always reminded you. The girls agreed there was no issue. You were just scared, but that’s okay. Joel had been there to catch you everytime.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The day went quickly, and you headed to Target after work for a treat yourself spree. Joel texted asking if you were free tonight, which was unlike him as he never asked you, he just told you what the plans were. You were suspicious but told him to come over and you’d do dinner for you both and you could catch up on the junk TV you found yourselves hooked on.

You got home, showered and changed into a matching loungewear set and greeted Joel at the door. You were in your pink fluffy robe, and Leo was sat in the pocket.

‘Damn kitten,’ Joel rolled his eyes. ‘He’ll stretch it out then you’ll be moaning about your droopy dressing gown.’

‘Well who ruffled your feathers, asshole?’ You turned round and walked through, letting Joel make his own way in the house.

You made yourself a dirty martini, and saved the olives for Joel,  as he always stole them from you.

He tutted and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry baby, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’

‘Tell me. A problem shared is a problem halved’ you leaned over the counter and rested your chin in your hands.

‘Let’s talk after dinner. I’m starving.’ Joel kissed you and patted your hip as he got up and grabbed the dinner plates. 

You sat at the table in the chairs opposite eachother. Your leg was tucked up under you, with the other resting on Joel’s leg. He squeezed your foot while you unpacked your day. With every word you spoke, his bad mood started to alleviate and the tension dissipated.

‘You go sit down baby, I’ll do the kitchen then I’ll be in’ Joel stood up and kissed your forehead.  You wrapped your arms round his neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss.

‘I love you’ Joel whispered. 

You looked up at him speechless.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Already, you were half asleep on the sofa, and Joel slotted underneath you so your head was laying on his lap, and he was lounging backwards with his legs up on the coffee table. 

You turned onto your back, and your eyes locked. His back almost locked trying to reach down to kiss you, but he did it. He’d do anything to kiss you.

‘I love you too, you know?’ Your cheeks heated up and your voice cracked. Shit, this was happening and it felt terrifying.

‘Be my girlfriend, please? I want you to be mine for the rest of our time on Earth. Girlfriend just doesn’t cover it.’

You welled up, and Joel’s eyes shimmered with a mix of fear, hope and adoration.

‘Now why would you do that when you know I’m due on.’ You were now a sobbing wreck, trying to find the words to tell Joel yes.

‘I had to fit it in before my birthday, couldn’t risk not getting that extra birthday present from you.’ Joel dug his fingers into your ribs, unable to be serious for more than five seconds.

‘You and me for as long as we live. I’d love to be your girlfriend and everything else that comes with it.’ He tenderly ran the side of his thumb down your temple and behind your ear, before holding your cheek in his palm. You nudged into it and sat up to kiss him.

‘Thank you for showing me how life should be’ you whispered.

‘Thank you for being my reason for living.’ Joel held you tightly. So tightly you thought you might break, or even worse, so tightly you thought you’d snap back into reality. But this  was real. Joel was the one for you.

‘Will you stay at mine tonight?’ Joel asked.

‘Can you not stay here? I’m working from here tomorrow, would make things easier’ you batted your eyelashes and Joel sighed.

He got up and went to leave to go home and get his stuff. ‘Don’t expect me to bring you back a sweet treat’ he shouted halfway out the door.

You sighed contentedly and sprawled out on the sofa, scrolling through to find a film to watch.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

He got back to you  no longer than half an hour later, of course with some chocolate for you, and before you knew it, you were both snoring on the sofa, intertwined and sweating under the covers of a fleece throw.

Joel insisted on watching Scarface, and you insisted his little friend did not need to be greeted, no matter how many times he repeated the quote. You couldn’t deny his impression was spot on. Why was this man so damn good at everything?

It was only half eight in the evening, and Leo woke you up crying for his dinner. Neither of you were morning people so it took a good thirty seconds of staring at eachother confused before realising what planet you were on. Your limbs dragged behind you as you uncoiled yourself and got Leo fed and settled for bed.

The temperature had started to drop at night, but the best thing about fall was having an ice cold bedroom after leaving the windows open all day. You crept up the stairs, in case Joel had fallen asleep in typical fashion. Instead you were met by Joel in your bed, propped up and topless, reading through one of your self love books. 

His glasses sat on the tip of his nose, and his hair fell scruffily across his forehead. The snap of your body lotion bottle shook him from his daze, and he grinned his charming schoolboy grin at you, and tapped the empty space next to him.

With your knees practically buckling beneath you, you awkwardly walked/skipped/jogged to join Joel in bed. Facing eachother on your sides, you ran a finger down his face and traced his jawline, towards the middle of his chin and catching his bottom lip. His mouth parted and his breath hitched as you kissed him. The world fell silent, the moon watched from above and Joel held you tight. 

He rolled onto his back and you rested your head on his chest, ready for the sweetest sleep of your life so far.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Work didn’t officially start until 9am, so you set your alarm for 8am, for a well deserved mid week lay in.

You were pleasantly surprised to find Joel still in bed next to you.

‘You can thank my little friend’ Joel smirked, ‘You have me to deal with all day.’

‘That means a day of absolutely no work getting done’ you kissed his cheek, and went to roll out of bed. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. 

‘I don’t want you to leave, it feels cold without you.’

‘You better join me in the shower then’ you whispered, before dragging him out of bed with you for the best way you knew to start his day.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

With an extra spring in his step, Joel hopped up the stairs to check how your day was going.

‘It’s 9:20am baby, what could have gone wrong in 20 minutes?’ You swivelled around on your chair, fluffy pink pen in hand. 

Fortunately, a couple of spare rooms in your house meant you got a seperate closet space and office space, although you anticipated something having to give with Joel spending more time at yours. Joel traced his fingers across polaroids hung like bunting across your wall, smiling to himself seeing you in wild places with your friends. He laughed at your versatility which ranged from a polaroid of you laid in the back of a cab with bottle of wine in hand and a feeble attempt at a peace sign and pout, to you in a gorgeous floor length dress with a champagne glass and your best friends either side.

He pulled up one of your decorative stools, which you assured him were not to bear human weight, and span you round in the chair, stopping you in front of him with a kiss on the tip of your nose.

‘What could’ve gone wrong in 20 minutes?’ He sits back, straddling the stool, and makes a pensive face before pacing around your office again.

You rolled your eyes, the same ones that you just couldn’t take off him.

‘Bath and body works announce the discontinuation of your favourite vanilla something candle’ he points at you.

‘Don’t even tempt fate with that’ you retort, ‘now Mr Miller, are you going to change my life, or are you going to get out my office and let me finish some work?’

‘Baby, your life changed the minute we met’ Joel stood by your window, silhouette skewed by the bright sunlight coming in behind him. He turned to face you and smiled.

‘Want me to do your fall lights on the summerhouse? Get it ready for Saturday. What do you say? Finish work, fall decoration shopping then a lazy night?’

‘You know me better than I know my self’ you stood up on tiptoes, wrapping your arms round his neck, and rubbing his ears between your thumb and pointer finger whilst rubbing your nose against his.

‘Well stop being lazy, and I’ll see you at 12pm for lunch’ Joel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stepped backwards out of your office, closing the door softly behind you.

You smiled and found yourself counting down the seconds before you could see Joel again.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The sound of Kings of Leon showed you the way and found Joel sat in the summer house with Leo, waving a rainbow coloured toy in circles.

‘Lunchtime, Mr Miller,’ you cooed.

He parted his legs, and you perched on his thigh, balancing a tray of food in your hand as you kissed him tenderly. He supported your back as you got up to sit next to him for lunch. 

‘Much work left to do baby?’ 

‘No, pretty quiet day. Just waiting for the transitional stuff to come through for the new job’ 

‘New job? Do tell?’ He scooped Leo up in his arms and they both leaned in.

You giggled and told him all about the promotion, and your new team you were managing and the opportunities this would give you.

‘I’m so proud of you baby’ You had never heard a tone so soft from a man so tough, as he shook his head almost in disbelief.

‘I’m doing it for us,’ you whispered back, as Joel held your chin in the palm of his hand.

‘Well, your taste in fairy lights is exceptional’ He flicked the switch and stood with his hands on his hips, above his worn out belt.

‘I love them, baby! I look forward to getting the pumpkins out later.’

‘I have to say I’m looking forward to seeing them too’ Joel quipped, grabbing a handful of your hips and ass.

‘Yeah I’m definitely going to have to put out after everything you’ve done’ you joked with him, pretending to admit defeat. 

‘I’ll see you at 5pm’ he shouted, as you began to walk down the garden back to the office. You blew a kiss at him, resisting the urge to sprint to him and never let him go.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The most spoilt kitten in the world slept on your lap all afternoon, whilst Joel kept your water bottle topped up and snack bowl filled in between his work calls.

5pm graced you with her presence, so you grabbed your coat and errand running purse, slipped into your Uggs and coated yourself in Amber Romance.

‘Got to go Tommy, see you this weekend bud. 8pm, her place. Don’t forget my presents’ Joel slipped his phone in his back pocket, and winked at you. His version of ‘How you doin’?’. 

‘You think you’re soooo slick’ you squinted sarcastically, whirling your key chain around your finger.

‘And you think you’re sooooo cool’ Joel put on his impression of your phone voice, and reminded you who was boss.

‘Okay I deserved that. Only letting you off because you’re the most handsome boyfriend ever.’

‘Agreed. Right, pumpkin spice time baby.’ Joel held open the front door, then strided to open your driver’s door whilst you locked up.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

Fall shopping was completed, and you were looking forward to getting home and stuffing your face with Joel’s casserole and lazing on the sofa for the evening.

‘I don’t know, I just guess pinecones and mushrooms are for September, pumpkins are for October and then it’s seeing how far you can go before putting the Christmas tree up in November’ you justified the 250 dollar spending spree. 

‘You are an enigma’ Joel was intrigued, and he figured he had a lot to learn about life with a girl in her 20s. 

Joel held your thigh the whole journey home, whilst your Fall Feelings playlist soothed your brains after a so far busy week.

‘I don’t know where and I don’t know when. But I know we’ll be lovers again. I’ll see you someday before the end, I don’t know where and I don’t know when. But oh darling my heart’s on fire’

You smiled softly to the lyrics of what was now Joel’s favourite song in the world, his thumb rubbing your hand and you holding his hand like it was your last chance.

‘I didn’t know I could feel something so deeply.  I’ve loved things, but I’ve never been in love until now’ Joel looked out the window, watching the fields roll by,

You raised his hand in yours to kiss it. 

Comfortable silence fell throughout the car, and you were sure you floated from the car to the house. Elated, loved and secure.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The pair of you had finished decorating the house, and finally sat to have dinner. The air was filled with the scent of incense and cinnamon and vanilla candles, and the house had never felt more like a home.

‘Do you think Tommy can keep you busy Saturday until 8pm?’ You asked.

‘As long as you don’t throw me out silly early to put a few balloons up, then maybe we can come to an agreement’ he grabbed your knee under the table.

‘That’s one less gift you’re getting’ you flicked your hair off your shoulder.

Joel laughed and stroked your hand across the table. ‘I’m looking forward to it baby, just let me know what I can do to help.’

‘It’s your birthday silly, you let me do the running around. Any special requests?’

‘It is all down to you, princess. As long as you and the girls keep away from the tequila and it doesn’t turn into karaoke night.’ he ran his hand over his mouth and across his stubble. 

‘Boring, just for that I’m buying double tequila’ you walked past with the dinner plated in hand and flicked your heel up to playfully tap him.

🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷🧸🪷

The rest of the week flew by, Joel was busy with a few projects and you were in the office for the last couple of days.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, there was a chill in the air but the sun shone through, and the red and orange leaves glistened from the morning dew.

The decision was hard, but you forced yourself out of bed at 7am, unwillingly peeling away from Joel to get yourself ready.

You hopped in the shower, washed your hair and rinsed off the way too dark tan guide colour. 

The errand running outfit was your favourite baby pink tracksuit, the zip up hoodie oversized for an off the shoulder style and your hair pin-curled up with military precision.

Joel woke up and stumbled into your office to find you slumped over your desk, vigorously writing your to do lists, shopping lists and list of lists that need creating. 

‘You look like a prawn sitting like that.’ He leaned against the door frame, one elbow supporting him, and the other hand on his hip. 

Your throat went dry at the sight of him. Shaggy hair, V-Lines that would be unachievable even if sculpted by Michelangelo himself and a morning voice drizzled in honey. 

‘And you look good enough to eat, but you don’t hear me making a fuss.’ You turned to face him, and reclined back in your chair.

He started walking towards you, and you sat up, straightening your back and locking eyes with him. Joel took a deep breath, as you held his hips in your hands and kissed across the skin above the waistband of his shorts, and you gently scratched your red nails down his tense core. 

‘Come here baby’ you whispered, pulling his shorts down to his knees. He stepped closer to you, and began to wince as you dragged your tongue across the underside of his cock. Moans echoed throughout the room as you took Joel deeper and deeper to the back of your throat, occasionally whimpering when he thrusted too deep. All he could manage was the words ‘babe’ and ‘so good’ as he melted.  

You knew his weaknesses and all the tricks to make him feel as much pleasure as possible. His bare thighs were painted with goosebumps, as you slowed down the pace and kissed down his hips before devouring him again. He grunted and held your throat delicately as he climaxed. There was an obscene glimmer in your eyes as you stared at him whilst he ran his thumb from the corner of your mouth to the middle of your bottom lip and you sucked his thumb in one slow motion.

‘Where have you been all my life?’ He pulled his shorts up and fell to his knees in front of you. 

‘Missing you, baby’ you pulled his head in to your chest and kissed the top of his head, taking in the scent of shampoo in his curls.

He laid against you for a while, trying to regain his strength. ‘FUCK, Tommy will be here any minute’ he bolted back into your bedroom to get his stuff before jumping in the shower.

Following him into the bathroom, you admired him for a while whist brushing your teeth again, and gave him a kiss through the shower curtain. 

‘I love you baby, will leave you both some coffee in the pot, I’m going to get Jess. I’ll see you tonight.’

You bounded down the stairs, grabbed an energy drink and bottle of water and headed to prepare for Joel’s party.

3 New Messages- 

Jessie🕺🏻

Ready when you are angel muffin, drive safe. 

Mumma🥹🩷

Heading to Costco’s, send me a list of what u need xx

Rufus👨‍🌾

got ur dried flower arrangement bring it later, see u tonight sweet girl, we love u

You smiled to your phone, feeling grateful. The best of friends by your side, a gorgeous boyfriend and the most caring family ever. Life was beautiful.

Tucking Leo in bed, you kissed his little furry forehead, slid into your Uggs and headed off  to spend way too much money. 

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag list

@iamsherlocked-1998

@sugakookieswithmilk

@galway-girlatwork

[ladylooch]

Since we're in the holidays and one day before Christmas. How would Christmas be around the aus ? Especially miles and kailey.

-👢

A/N: I had an idea for Kailey and Miles this morning! So I am going to focus on them for this, which I know you will not mind at all about 😁

Warnings: a smidge of sexual groping, grief, loss of a loved one

Miles and I wake up with our backs together on Christmas morning. Nothing is wrong, but my snuggle time in bed has moved away from my husband and instead to my pregnancy pillow. Miles wants to punt that thing into the Rocky Mountains, never to be seen again. But me being comfortable is more important to him. So important that he stopped being big spoon when I complained about him being a furnace at 2am this morning. So he rolled over and settled with pressing his back to mine.

I open my eyes to the soft kicks of the baby in my belly. I groan, rubbing a hand over the area to try and soothe him to stop. I was really hoping to sleep in later than 7:00am this morning. Miles Wood’s baby has other ideas. I cup the underside of my belly, then work my way slowly to drop onto my back. Miles stirs a bit as I roll to my other hip. I press my belly into his back, then reach around to run my finger nails up his bare abdomen. His large hand comes over mine while a heavy sigh moves his skin beneath our hands. 

“He up?” Miles asks me. I press a kiss to the deep ravine of his spine.

“Yeah.”

“Buddy, you’re killing me.” Miles groans, reaching around for my belly. He gives it a gentle jiggle. It tickles and makes me laugh, which in turn makes the baby kick harder.

Miles rolls over to face me. I kick my pregnancy pillow out of the way, opting to use his big leg to keep my knees from rubbing together. The pressure in my pelvis releases enough that I can lay comfortably while we cuddle. I can tell Miles loves this, getting to actually feel my body against his instead of having something in between us.

“Merry Christmas, Kails.” Miles murmurs. When his deep voice begins again, the baby’s kicks get more forceful. Miles leans down to kiss the top of my bump. “Merry Christmas Olympic gymnast!” Miles chuckles, feeling the vibrations of our son’s little feet on his mouth.

“He is moving like crazy right now. He loves the sound of your voice.” I tangle my fingers in Miles’ curls. He rests his face there for a few more moments, before sitting up to lay back, looking at me with those dreamy eyes. 

“How are you feeling today?”

“Huge.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make breakfast for your parents like I promised.”

“That’s okay. I can do it.” He leans down, kissing her lips. “You just sit on the couch and relax.”

“With your baby in me? I’ve given up on that.” I brush my fingers over his swollen cheek from his scrap two nights ago in the second period. “Our little tornado of chaos. Get ready, daddy.”

“ ‘M so ready.” He insists, which is good because 20 weeks ago he was most definitely not. A lot has changed since then. “You too uncomfortable to bring these out to play?” He asks, cupping my right breast.

“Yes.” I immediately say. He pouts disappointedly. “I’m not sure my body can handle sex much longer in this pregnancy.” Miles and I had tried to get busy the other night but he’s a big boy. We found out that big boys and loosening ligaments in the pelvis, plus a softening cervix, do not make for any sort of sexual fun. Plus, last week, we found out I have a 99 percent-er inside of me. My doctor keeps chuckling every appointment they measure my tummy. It’s unnerving. This is what I get for having sex with a giant ass man.

“Are you worried about your appointment from last week still?”

“Yes.” I mumble, pouting. He kisses my forehead softly.

“You’ll be okay, baby.” He assures me. “I’ll be right there with you.”

“Do you think Santa came?” I ask him later, after snuggling for another hour. We both are begrudgingly ready to head out to the main area and join his parents.

“Actually yes I do!” He chuckles, opening our bedroom door. He ushers me out first. When I get out of the hallway, I gasp in surprise. Our entire apartment has been decorated with all of our Christmas decorations. Until seemingly last night, they were sitting, collecting dust in our storage unit in the building. I had been trying to decorate for weeks, but being sore and in pain and exhausted from pregnancy made it difficult to make much progress.

Randy and Cheryl are behind the island, grinning, clearly the culprits of this Christmas explosion.

“Merry Christmas!” They holler together. 

“Oh my god. I love you two so much.” I whine, tears building in my eyes as I walk to hug them both. “Thank you. This is incredible. So beautiful.” 

“Honey, it’s your stuff.” Cheryl teases. “You have excellent taste.” 

“Most of this is my mom’s.” I murmur sadly. Christmas is difficult for me because my mom passed around this time when I was in college. I always have to make room for my grief with my celebration of the holidays. This year, with being pregnant, knowing my mom will never meet our kid, it’s been a difficult season. Cheryl hugs me after I wipe my tears away. 

“We love you.” She reminds me. It’s not the same, but I did hit the Mother-In-Law jackpot. I know Cheryl will love our son proudly, which does make some of my mom being gone sting less. Miles rubs at my upper back, then drops a kiss on my lips. 

“How did you guys get all those ornaments on the tree?” Miles asks as he starts to grab the kitchen essentials for breakfast.

“Oh it was hard. We almost had to play ornament roulette.” Randy says seriously. “Which was gonna send your mom into cardiac arrest.”

“Oh stop it.” Cherry slaps Randy’s stomach. “I love our tradition of giving all the kids an ornament each year. Speaking of…” She trails off, hustling over to the coffee table. “I did only have to get one for you two this year.” She hands over the white box to me. I open it up to reveal two avocados. One of them, with long eyelashes has a brown pit in the middle with Baby Wood written in white letters across it. Below the avocados is a banner that says “We’re expecting!” I chuckle, showing Miles who does his signature giggle. 

“This is so cute! We are putting it front and center.” I walk over to the tree, nuzzling it next to an ornament from when the Wood family went to Glacier National Park when Miles was 8. I look at the pit, running my hands over my belly. “This might be as big as my belly right now.”

“You never finished telling us about your appointment last week.” Cheryl reminds me. Miles begins to pull ingredients for breakfast out of the fridge. He is going to make Belgian waffles with all the fixings.

“Oh! Right because someone started punching people.” I tease Miles who give a hardy har har over his shoulder at me. “Um, it was okay. Baby boy is big.” I widen my eyes, gesturing down to my stomach. “And they are already discussing the potential of me being induced or having a c-section. I guess Miles and my body proportions don’t line up well.” 

“Miles was a big boy. Saved the worst delivery for last.” Cheryl chuckles. “I remember the Canadian doctors telling me good luck crossing the border to have him in Buffalo because of how huge I was. They worried the thunder of Niagara Falls would make all hell break loose. They didn’t know much back in the day though.”

“I just hope Miles is in town.” I say honestly. If the baby comes early, Miles will be on a road trip. If he comes on his due date, Miles will be in the middle of a 6 game homestead. Praise be to the hockey Gods, amen.

“Yeah. It’s hard.” Cheryl agrees. She knows. She did it with all their children while Randy played in the NHL. Luckily, he made it to each birth.

“Kails will be fine. She is a rockstar. I’ll probably just be in the way.”

“No.” I whine, walking over to the stove and throwing myself into his big body. “Need you.” He drops the whisk he was using for the waffle batter and wraps his arms around me. 

“You got me, baby. I’m right here.” He murmurs against the top of my head. “Couldn’t live without you.”

In 13 weeks, Miles will be repeating those same words in a much more serious context.

More Miles and Kailey is coming soon here.

[tomtepixiedust]

I think Reigen needs a senpai, like a work senpai. And I think it should be Mrs Suzuki (couldn't find the name so in my mind she's Hoko Suzuki - name from her voice actor. Going by that her maiden name would be Hoko Kawashi - that's when he met senpai).

She's a gentle soul who had a depressive episode after the divorce and then having her kid taken by ex-husband with no official visiting times approved (not that that stopped her and her son from visiting each other of course).

Now that things are looking up she's able to focus on raising her kid, finally getting to gently reprimand (ehm trash ehm) her ex and getting back to work.

In short, a peaceful everyday life full of -

"What do you mean there's worker shortage and the deadline's next week?" Her face froze into a smile, her voice cool as ice.

And now she's got to drag back her precious kohai who's very good at work (also bullshitting needed to pull off a very charming presentation for a big client) to help them out.

"Huh, external consultant? I mean, I feel honoured you thought of me but as you see I run a very successful business so we're pretty much busy."

(Normally he'd have added a colourful splash of boasting to it but after that tornado week with Mob's outburst and the following confession, he thought about working on his sincerity - a little. You know, making tiny steps.) Then again, he was really tired from the amount of work and reconstruction (basically coordinating cause man for being powerful psychics they had some issues coordinating their work when it came down to basic work like reconstructing the buildings). Anyway.

"Wonderful!" She clasped her hands. "The more work experience the better, glad to see you finally working your dream job. As you see we have the Motor Electronics as our client and a presentation for them next week hence we need extra help to make the deadline."

"Aaah them." His face soured as his voice dropped. "Well good luck, really pushed you with this deadline but I got my own appointments and trainees to oversee."

"We pay."

"I know."

Thank god he got a stable inflow of appointments so he could decline otherwise he'd be stuck working hell hours to make this insane deadline. For all his love for money ain't no way he'd go back to that work. (A more uncertain part of him felt like it'd be a bit like failure to go back, especially after making it in his own niche thing.)

"Great! I'll email you the schedule for the project, I know you're good at scheduling and you've got help at your business. Glad to see you onboard again, Arataka-kun."

Gentle as a summer breeze yet cold as the ice in a freezer, she spoke to him, eyes zeroing in on his entire being.

Somehow her voice left no room for further arguments.

Cue in: montage of hell week by him being dragged around various places displaying his many talents as a not a normal anymore but an incredibly capable manager while cursing inside cause he wanted to leave that life long time ago to accepting shit situation cause Senpai said so. The uno reverse situation: reigen as the greatest psychic (ehm talented scammer ehm) failing to gain fame and money (but also not really failing - he a Schrödingers psychic cat) but by grinding hard to get the shitty project done starts failing upwards in that one aspect he really wasn't interested due to I-wanna-get-shit-done-and-get-out attitude meeting adults his age and older acknowledging his elaborate skillset.

Bonus:

Ritsu trying to sleep while Reigens grinding hard and getting acknowledged for his real skill: I feel a disturbance in the reality

Bonus 2:

Suzuki gives him a makeover for him to crossdress as a lady like god intended (for non work related reasons)

[roseofithaca]

Once 'Pon A Dreamses

(Set in @idiotwithanipad 's Gore AU, artwork credited to her. Tw: sudden infant death, kidnapping)

There be times when a mother doth have to go to extreme lengths for her little'en.

March 1606

"Come on now, Mary! I's can see the head." The midwife encourages, kneeling on the unswept floorboards of her neighbour's cottage; "Just a couple more big pushes and they be here."

"Arrrgh!" Mary Guppy gripped the posts of her bed, straining to stay on her feet.

Why couldn't her mother have lived for but one more year to be here with her for this? She not have many friends among the womenfolk of the village, save Lydia, who was almost as ostracised as she. At least Lydia was also the most skilled in helping deliver babies. But Mary would still trade her in a heartbeat for her mother's brief return.

Her constitution nearly fails her, cervix and womb burning with agony, as she forced herself to push once more.

"I can't do more, I can'ts." She whimpered.

"Yous gonna haveta, Mary, it needs at least one more big push and I don't wanna have ta-."

Lydia was cut off by the door slamming open.

"Mary! I hurried as fast as I could!"

The new voice made Mary sob with relief, though she held on tight to the posts rather than turn to look upon him.

"Ey, it not be proper for a man to be here when she still in her labours!" Lydia rebuked.

"Hush, woman! The Lord himself couldn't keep me out my own house at the birth of my firstborn!"

Mary felt her husband's hand clasp over hers as he rushed to her side.

"If thee be finish blasphemin', make yourself useful and lend strength to your wife so she can push this baby out!" Ordered Lydia.

"John...." Mary mewled, reaching for him.

The older man with bright, joyful eyes let his wife use him along with the bed to stay upright as her knees buckled.

"I's here, love. I's here. Come on now. Almost finished."

"No, no, this be wrong, Is can feels it. T'is the curse, John, the curse I brought 'pon us when we did nots break the cake at the wedding! The spirits hath come to take their vengeance!"

"Nonsense, dear wife! Thou art most faithful to the Lord in the whole of the village. He be with you, as I am. Now push, Mary, you can do this!"

Though she still wished for her mother to return from Heaven for this one perilous moment in time, her good husband's belief and encouragement was almost just as good.

A few quick, short breaths, then she did it. Her fingers squeezed hard around John and the bed frame and she pushed down, down, down...

She heard a squelch, a splatter of liquid...

And then a laugh.

"It be out! I got her!" Lydia cried in relief and triumph, "You has a daughter."

Mary nearly collapsed, her knees giving way before John caught her. A quick slice as Lydia cut the chord, then John all but scooped Mary up to guide her onto the bed to lay her down.

The room seemed to be spinning around her in a tornado of brown and orange from the hearth in their one room shack.

"Where she be? Where's my baby?" She asked in a daze.

John beamed, squeezing her hand.

"Lydia just be cleaning her up, love. You did it. T'is all over." He dabbed the sweat from her forehead with his cuff.

"B-but is she okay? She be whole and not deformed or cursed?"

Lydia mopped the newborn's delicate head, causing her to let out an irritated squall; "She be perfectly healthy, five fingers and toes on each, can't spot a single Devil's mark 'pon her flesh - 'sides a normal mole on her hip."

"See? She's fine, Mary. Peace." John's hand squeezed her shoulder.

"I...I thought I heard laughter. When she come out..." Mary blinked, giggling herself.

He chuckled; "Did sound like that a little, didn't it? Weren't just thy ears deceiving ye."

Finally, after what felt like far too long but couldn't have been more than a minute, Lydia brought the baby back to her mother.

"Put her on your chest, Mary, that it. Baby needs to hear Mum's heartbeat to teach her own to thump right." Instructed the midwife.

Yes, yes, whatever she needed to do. Mary reached out and brought the newborn to her chest, John helping to pull down her shift so no cloth came between mother and baby. He then shuffled in close, his arm behind her shoulders to prop her up a little, both parents gazing down in stricken wonder at their firstborn child.

Mary wept as the love inside her chest became near unbearable to contain. She had loved many in life, her mother, her animals, her herb garden, her dearest John, her God Above - but not even the final one could compare to her love for this little girl in her arms. Damn her to Hell for that if needs be.

The baby wasn't laughing, exactly, but she wasn't crying either. She gurgled contently as she nestled against her mother's warm, sweat soaked skin, fresh eyes flickering up to meet Mary's.

"Oh. Hello, Little'en. Hello." She smiled, speechless. "I'ms thy mummy. Yes...That I be."

"Welcome to our home, sweet girl. It not be much but I's gonna make it cosy as any castle for you and your mum." John cooed, stroking her cheek with his finger; "Oh, Mary. She be as beautiful as thou."

"Ye disappointed she not a boy?"

"Tush to boys. She as precious as the silver in the Lord's manor." He commented, "A boy might some day be my pride, but this here little daughter be my joy forevermore."

"Hmm. Don't hear a lot of that from fathers." Lydia said, "Now bear with. Still gots the afterbirth to come."

-

Awoken by the breeze on his face, John reminded himself to fix that window covering this afternoon. Early morning sunlight streamed through the wide open gap and onto their bed, causing his wife's face to appear even more radiant as she lay with a smile on her face.

He stretched his arms up, taking a moment to realise how long it had been since he woke only to the sound of the birdsong outside.

"Do I be dreamin' or did she sleep through the night entire?" He asked, softly, just in case his wife was still asleep.

Mary hummed, stirring; "Believe she dids. 'Bout time too, cheeky madam." Both chuckled fondly.

Their little girl, who they agreed would remain nameless until her first birthday so as not to tempt the fates, was nothing short of demanding for attention. She wasn't an unhappy or fussy baby by any means. But she was constantly wanting to be held or spoken to or simply acknowledged if anyone was within two metres of her. A cuddle or a song or a quick taste of her nylkies was usually enough to settle her.

All of this her parents were happy to indulge. Better a needy, clingy child than a sickly or sullen one - or worse, none at all. If they were aware of how the rest of the village muttered and gossip about how the Guppys spoiled their baby despite being one of the poorer families among them, John and Mary paid them no mind.

John kissed his wife's hair and then got himself up to get ready for work. Often the babe had already awoken Mary for his wife to prepare him some breakfast but today he'll make do with an apple on the way to the fields.

Tucking his hat over his head, he passed by the surprisingly quiet crib.

"You givin' your mummy a lie in, are ye? Good girl." John gazed down lovingly at the child, who didn't even wriggle at the sound of his voice as she usually did; "....Ey. Not even gonna wake to say bye to your Da 'fore he leaves? Hmm?"

Nothing.

Blood rushed to his ears and even the sound of the birds fell away to silence.

"Sweet girl?"

He pressed his fingers to her little chest.

"Oh no...No, no...."

"John? What's wrong?"

He scooped the baby up, her little body all too cold and floppy, before bringing her to her mother.

Please, have his wife tell him he's got it wrong, that he's being a silly arse. That the babe just be in a very deep sleep. That the blue around her lips be just a trick of the light.

The horror that dawned on his wife's face as she held the baby in her hands was like a metal spike nailed through his chest.

"Help! Someone please help! Where be the doctor?!" Mary wailed, stumbling out the cottage, barefoot and in her nightclothes, the baby clutched to her chest.

Though there were few who were close to the Guppys, those who were up and awake still rushed to their neighbours aid.

"She not breathing! I helds her to me but her heart don't beat to mine and her chest-." Mary was hysterical as she showed the villagers the tiny bo....Baby. Not body. Not yet.

"There be a physician staying at his Lordship's manor, I'll go fetch him." One man nodded at John before mounting his horse.

"God be with you. T'is okay, wife, help will come." Mary barely heard her husband's attempts to console her, the upbeat confidence in his voice clearly struggling.

They'd both been alive long enough and seen too many parents go through this to know hope was paper thin. Mary could already feel her heart shattering like glass. No. Please. Not hers. Not her baby girl, please.

Other womenfolk were rubbing her back and offering their condolences already, some of them having endured the agony she was about to face, their empathy overriding any harsh judgement they had towards the strange woman who often spoke to her plants and animals.

"T'will be too late by the time he arrives." Came a familiar voice nearby. Mary looked up to see Lydia stood by her doorway. "Bring the babe to me. I might be able to save her, if it not too late."

"Go away, ye hag! Now not be the time for your deceptions, leave poor Mary be!" One of the wives hissed.

Lydia's reputation as a respected midwife and medicine woman had gone down rapidly in the past month since paranoia about witchcraft and devilry in the country had increased, mostly thanks to the King himself. Even Mary and John had felt pressured to distance themselves from her, despite always thinking kindly after she'd safely brought their precious daughter into the world.

Mary met the older woman's eyes. They spoke with a promise that the seemingly inevitable grief she was about to suffer could be avoided.

Before anyone could stop her, she began shuffling quickly towards Lydia's cottage.

John didn't try to dissuade his wife and followed her in, throwing a comment to the whispering crowd that he would protect her from any temptation of sinful practices.

Mary handed the baby to Lydia who laid her on a table, unwrapping the swaddling cloths to get a proper look at her. John held his wife tight as they waited with baited breaths as Lydia's fingers felt the child over, then pressed her ear to the chest, opened her mouth and tried to pass tiny gasps of air through. She tried to rouse the babe with a drop of honey on her lips and waving mint beneath her nose, as well as dipping her in cold water.

Finally, Lydia stood up straight.

"I'm sorry. This child will not wake. I fear she's been gone for many hours."

Mary wanted to scream but no sound came.

It couldn't be happening. Please, Lord...

Lydia turned to them; "But do not grieve. For t'is not your babe to mourn."

John frowned; "What ye be saying, woman?!"

"I brought your daughter into the world, good sir. I 'member every babe I do catch and clean. This not be your child."

Mary shook her head; "W-what? No, I....I know my own little'en, I do!"

"M'sure you do, Mary, but panic can make our eyes deceive us. Look. Truly now, look upon her." Lydia beckoned the trembling woman close; "Look at her nose. And the hair." She had to pull back the bonnet her daughter had slept in to keep warm; "If that don't convince thee, find me the mole which was on her hip."

Mary's hands checked the baby over. As her fingers smoothed over the doll-like form, she noticed the subtle differences in shape and weight from the baby she'd put to bed only eight hours earlier. The tiny whisp of dark hair atop the brow was much lighter. And, clear as day, the mole was missing.

But how on Earth could...?

"What wicked deceipt be this?! Where be my little'en?! Where is she?!" Mary all but screamed.

"Try to be calm and think. Who had a child this age to put in place of thy own?" Asked Lydia.

There was only one possible suspect.

Grace Jones was a mere girl of fifteen who had fallen pregnant supposedly after eloping with a boy from another village, only to be abandoned by him shortly after. Her baby girl had been born a month after Mary's and Mary had even taken the young mother under her wing a little as the two raised their children, Mary even hoping they'd grow up as friends.

When John pounds his fist upon the girl's parents' door, he doesn't wait for a response before kicking it in, spurred on by the sound of a baby crying within the cottage.

Mary sees the young mother sat holding the baby close, tears streaming down her face. Her apologies fall on deaf ears as Mary rushes forward and all but snatches the child from weaker arms.

She doesn't even have to check for the mole. One look at the baby's red, distraught, crinkled face is enough. She knows her own child, despite having come so close to being tricked.

"Oh, it's you. It's you, my little'en. John, look, it be our babe, she doth live! Praise be!"

John touched the baby's head, tears in his eyes as he gazed upon his daughter.

"Oh, forgive me, sweet girl, forgive your da, he don't deserve ye for not seeing the truth." He kissed the little one's brow and wrapped his arms around both his wife and child.

The village officials as well as her own parents were already rounding on Grace, who was sobbing to herself, looking as though she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. How could anyone do something so heinous? To not only steal another babe but also make a family believe their own child to be dead?!

Her father was dragging the girl up by her arm and shoving her against the wall, beckoning his wife for a rod to lash her with. Possibly to spare her from worse punishment if he dealt with her himself.

"What didst ye do, stupid girl?! Did ye think by failing to care for thy own babe, it could just be easily replaced with another?!" He growled at her.

One of the officials had a darker suspicion; "Mayhaps the child was jealous the Guppy babe was healthier and brighter, so she smothered her own before the theft?"

"No, no, t'is lies!" Grace cried out, "I 'woke to find my Katherine blue and I panicked...I was gonna go find the doctor but knew it was too late...then I heard the Guppy babe gurgle and saw the window was open...I'm sorry, Mary, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking, I thought the fae had swapped your child with mine-"

"Oh hush, wench, no one wants thy fantasies. Thou will be flogged for this and spend a week in the stocks. And if the law sees fit, ye may even be sent to the gallows."

"NO!"

It was Mary who had shouted the word. All eyes turned to her, still clutching her baby for dear life.

"Gracey has lost her own babe. Her grief be punishment enough. I felt myself die the moment I thought my little'en had..." her lip trembled as she looked at the baby again, as if to make sure she was still with her; "...Punish her lightly. Have her make her penance towards God. But she already has our forgiveness. Don't she, John?"

Looking over her shoulder, she could see that her husband was far less understanding as he glared at the teenager. But he tried his best to soften when Mary nudged him.

She was just a little'en herself. A terrified, grieving little'en. There but, for grace of God, go they.

John is given leave off work for the day to stay home, the whole family shaken by the traumatic events of the morning.

He holds Mary as the two sit by the fireplace, unable to take their eyes off the daughter they thought they would have to bury by the day's end.

"I wants to name her now, John. When Lydia said there was nought to be done, my first thought was how awful t'was to not have a name to write on her cross. No matter how small she be." Mary confided.

"No arguing from me. What does thou have in mind?" It was still a way off until her first birthday, they hadn't really discussed it. She was simply The Baby, or Sweet Girl, or Little'en.

Mary took a moment, tickling her child under the chin until she let out the tiniest peel of laughter.

"Silver. Silver Guppy."

"Ey? You sure?"

"Don't yous like it?"

"No, I do, s'just...Expected you to want something traditional and Christian. Somethin' ordinary." John shrugged.

"She be anythin' but ordinary. She did return to us from the great beyond." Mary dared to jest about the awful events; "You did say when she was born that she be as precious as his lordship's silver."

"Aye. That I did." Her husband chuckled, eyes sparkling with agreement as he watched his daughter fall asleep in her mum's arms, as if unaware she had almost been lost to them forever.

-

"Grrr! Look how strong you are! You nearly took Da's finger off! Then what shalls I hold my tools with?" John teased his two and a half year old as she grabbed his hand to try to stop him tickling her. "You'd has to come to the help me plough the field and get your pretty dress all dirtied!"

Silver giggled as she lay on the fox pelt rug, the softest surface in their one room cottage, before raising her arms, twirling her fists.

"Daddy, up! Up!"

"Daddy has to go to work, sweet girl. Or are you ready to come with me? Hmm?" He lifted her into his arms, all the same, "Yeah, I'd say your plenty grown up to help your da now, probably work harder than most of the lazy bums I has to spend the day with. Much nicer to look at too, gorgeous!"

"Don't even jest 'bout that, you ain't having her sit on your cart till she be at least five!" Mary chided. "She be barely out of her swaddlin' clothes."

"Hmm, and I know that were hard enough for you, wife." He said before winking at Silver, who giggled despite not getting the joke. She was just always giggling and smiling for her parents.

Her mother tutted and took a pause from skinning the rabbit for their stew.

"And what ye means by that, John Guppy?"

"You know what I mean! If it were up to thee, she'd stay in swaddling clothes and sleeping in her crib till Judgement Day." He said, lighthearted; "Can't keep her a baby forever, Mary. Especially not when you has another comin' soon."

Mary huffed and patted her swollen belly.

"Well if this one be a boy, ye can take him out to plough as early as ye wish. But leave my darling girl to me." She said with a touch of defiance, even to her own husband.

When it came to her daughter, there was no middle ground. She may have forgiven Grace for her trick and understood the Lord had tested her faith, but that didn't mean she was going to be less vigalent in keeping Silver safe, even if she lived to her forties. She would always be her baby.

John held his tongue and just nuzzled his little girl's, whispering; "Don't you worry, sweet girl, I'll be here to convince Mummy to loosen the reigns the bigger you get."

"I heard that!"

Dipping her hands in water to wash off the rabbit blood, she retrieved Silver from her husband and practically nudged him towards the door to leave for work.

John kissed his wife's cheek and then his own fingers before pressing them to Silver's nose.

"See you beautiful ladies later." He promised with another wink.

The child giggled and reached for her father to stay as he turned around.

Mary bounced Silver to cheer up before that pout could turn into a cry.

"Your da dunno what he speak of, I'll have no trouble wrangling you and your brother. 'Course yous has to help Mummy look after two boys in the house but that's ok. Wes a team, ain't we, darling girl? Ain't we?"

Silver squealed as her mother raised her dress to blow a raspberry on her belly.

"Yes, yes, Mummy!" She wasn't sure what she was agreeing to but helpless to resist Mummy's tickling.

The seemingly indestructible peace and happiness of their little home would last for one more hour. Silver sat on the table with one of her rag-dolls her mother had made, swinging her little feet while Mary prepared dinner. She sang along with her mother as she stirred the pot, and then when it came time to sweep the floors, Silver toddled around, squealing with laughter, as her mother threatened to sweep her up along with the dust, chasing the little one around the cottage.

Just as Mary had grabbed the child and was rolling with her on the floor, raining kisses on her cheeks, there came a knock at the door.

It was one of John's fellow farmhands. There had been an accident.

-

She hears the snap, followed by the crowd jeering. Her chest tightens as she does her best to stay smiling.

Johnny looks towards the window; "What's that?"

"Market day. Boring stuff. Let's keep playing." She'll need to remember to ask the Lord for forgiveness for lying later tonight.

As she makes her doll clash with her little brother's, making pretend of two soldiers entwined in battle, she tries not to imagine Aunt Lydia swinging at the end of the rope. Mummy said she shouldn't ever refer to her as Aunt Lydia aloud, only in the silence her heart. Oh how awful it must be for Mummy to have to watch. Silver had wanted to go too, but Mummy had wanted her here to watch over Johnny, or so she said.

She's given up trying to make sense of what Aunt Lydia did to warrant the gallows, not to mention the debasement done to her before hand. Silver had nearly got lashed herself for offering her water in the stocks, though Lydia had spared her by proudly proclaiming she'd bewitched the child to quench her thirst- which was a lie. Had that been her sin? Was it enough to be given the noose?

The door opens and Johnny toddles to clutch at his mother's dress. Silver follows, seeing that her mum looked in need of a hug.

"How be my darlins? You behavin'? No one came a knockin'?" She asks as if she'd just popped out to buy some flour.

Silver's attempts to ask about the hanging was met with sugar coated dismissal.

"T'was a painless end and she be in Heaven now, little'en, same as Daddy. Let that be the end of it. How 'bouts I bake us some buns, hmm?" Her offer distracted little John instantly.

Her mother conceded in at least letting Silver help her to bake rather than playing with her three year old brother.

"Did yous deliver those herbs to the big house for me, love?" Mary asked her as they sat down to eat later.

"Yes, Mummy."

"Good girl. Did yous see the 'eadless Lord's ghost again?"

Silver managed a giggle; "Noo. But I did hear a growl in the walls. Sounded like the strange beast of legend."

"Oooh, maybe. Better not wander too far alone or he gobbles you up!" Mary made a pouncing motion to amuse her children.

Silver laughed along with her brother, before trying to be serious again.

"I did see the Lady of the house. She spoke to me."

"Did she now? Now we are telling tall tales." Mary chided, lightly.

"T'is true, Mummy. I knew it was her 'cause o' how colorful her dress was. We crossed paths and I kept my head down to head home but she told me to stop. She asked what I'd brought and I told her about the herbs, said my mum had grown them in her own garden. Her Ladyship told me to send you her thanks for making the dinner more....uh....bearble?"

Her mother blushed and chuckled; "Oh. Well still not sure I believes you but that was kind of her to say."

"And then she said I looked like a hard little worker. I told her I was. Then she offered me a job."

The smile fell from Mary's face.

"She dids what?"

"Offers me a job." Silver repeated, faltering a little. She'd been expecting her mum to be happy, but she looked furious. "Said she'd lost some of the staff to plague recently and was in need of hardworking young hands. She said I'd be allowed to stay in the house if it was easier, and I'd be paid well for hard work."

"And what dids you say back?"

"I...I thanked her for the offer but said I'd have to discuss it with you first. Coz you be a widow and needs help with my little brother."

Her mother deflated a little.

"Good. Clever girl, that be the right thing to say. Hopefully she forget it by tomorrow, highborn memories of common folk never last long. And if you do happen to pass her again, just tell her your mother can't afford to part with ye."

Silver blinked; "You mean I can't go?"

"'Course not, little'en! I need you here! Anyway, what she think she be doing, offering a scullery job to a child of six!"

"She didn't say it would be the scullery."

Mary scoffed; "They not be wanting a young peasant child upstairs cleaning the rooms, love. They stick you in that kitchen and there won't be no getting out. No. No, I won't let it happens. I has too much work on to leave Johnny alone."

"I was younger than Johnny when you left me alone to care for him."

Mary met her daughter's eyes and Silver dipped her head.

"Sorry, Mummy, I didn't mean-."

"This ain't the life I wanted for you but we gets by, don't we? I try my best. If I coulds I'd have you living in a palace wearing fancy dresses I would, but working in the manor won't have you any closer-."

"I don't care about pretty dresses, Mummy. I's just worried about you."

"...Me?"

"Yous work so hard. On the field and making all these medicines for peoples and then looking after me and Johnny. You barely eats much yourself. It ain't fair. You do so much for us...and the town, but they still gossip cruelly. I just wanted to help, t'is all."

Mary stared at her daughter, six going on twenty. Barely two heads taller than her brother who was amusing himself, ignorant of all their woes. That's how she was supposed to be. Her protected little girl, innocent and happy, not worrying about helping to support her own mother.

A tear leaked from her eye as she patted her knee and opened her arms; "Come 'ere, little'en."

Silver climbed onto her mum's lap. It was rare that she got the opportunity to do this, with Johnny taking up most of her mother's attention when she came home. Now Mummy squeezed her tight, rocking her like she was small again. Smaller, even.

"You don't need to be fretting over me, darling girl. Your daddy was smart enough to save up enough shillings to get us through the worst of it. Soon Johnny will be old enough to help bring us in more. And if things get difficult then I'm sure they'll always be wanting servant girls in that big house a few years from now...But you just stay a child, my Silver, just a little bits longer. Stay with me. Okay?"

Silver nodded; "Okay, Mummy."

Mary pulled back and smiled, rubbing her nose against hers; "Wes a team, ain't we? Ain't we?"

Another tickle attack to her sides.

"Yes, Mummy!"

-

The witchfinders come. Same as before.

They knock on the door in the middle of the night. The mob have assembled and before Mary has a chance to protest, she's dragged out to the streets.

Except this time they don't get their hands on boy. Silver carries her brother as they escape out the window and into the woods. Her mother had ordered her to run to safety before they bashed their way in.

She finds a church. She orders Johnny to stay as she knocks on the door for the priests to find the abandoned child, promising to return.

Another lie, not that she knows it at the time.

But her and Mummy are a team. She's not leaving her to face the same fate as Aunt Lydia. Or worse.

-

It's all a trick. A clever switch.

Just like the one that the poor mad Jones woman tried to do with her when she was a baby.

The crowd cheer as they watch the flames rise and consume the two bodies tied to the pyre. One large, one small. The devil takes many forms, even children, it seems.

The real Mary and Silver watch from the trees as the copies of themselves, conjured through smoke and mist and mixed with drops of their own blood, scream in agony until only their crumbling black husks remain.

Silver grips her mum's hand tight.

"Will Johnny be okay?" She asks, hating that she had to break her promise to him.

Mary tugs her close; "The world be much kinder to menfolk. And he'll have more hope of thriving across the water to the New World than here. I'll think of him every day, my bouncing boy. But I know the Lord, or whatever spirits are up there, will be with him."

She turned and scooped Silver up, smiling at her adoringly.

"Now t'is just you and Mummy, little'en. Forever and ever, I'm all yours."

Silver wondered if she should feel guilty for being a little glad of that. Was that selfish? Oh who cared what sins the dead committed.

"What will we do, Mummy?"

"Whatever we want. I be the new Witch of the Woods. I can make all my little girl's dreams come true now. You wilst want for nothing. Castle, dresses, cakes a plenty. I'll wave my hand and make it so."

Raising her hand up, sparkling embers danced from her fingertips and formed into glowing faerie lights that attached themselves to the trees, lighting up the forest.

She doesn't know where Mummy got these powers from, if they were always within her or passed on by Aunt Lydia. She didn't care. Her mummy was magic.

But all the gifts and excitement of such a life could wait. For now, all she wanted was holding her in a loving embrace.

Silver wrapped her arms tight around Mummy's neck. They were safe and together.

Nothing else mattered.

-

A mother has to go to extreme lengths for her little'en.

Just take my daughter. She were stolen from me as a babe. Snatched from her cradle in the night and replaced with some other poor dead child. And me and her father had been blind to the truth. There had been no kind Aunt Lydia to reveal to us what should have been clear as day.

It took me four hundred years to find her again. Somehow she'd remained frozen in youth, both in body and mind. Fate had taken her eyesight too. But that didn't matter. None of it did. She had recognised me in her heart before I did her. She embraced me. She called me Mummy.

The veil that had been placed over my eyes was finally lifted. My little girl had survived and she had found her way home.

But blindness is not my Silver's only affliction. Those snakes that took her had twisted her mind in knots. Sometimes, the years of lies and captivity became too much for her fragile mind to cope and she forgets the truth. She forgets that she be mine. Forgets who her real Mummy is. It can became distressing, borderline explosive, as the confused child attempts to flee from me and my dear ally as if we mean her harm.

Do I punish her for these tantrums? Do I confine her with chains to keep her with me against her will?

No. Never. Instead, I use my dark gifts to sooth her poor little mind. She be tortured by a similar madness that pains my ally is all. I just need a little more care and subtlety with the little'en.

T'is why I make myself suffer by laying down on my burned and crisp side beside her as she sleeps. T'is why I hold her close and hum her lullaby as my smoke wafts into her ears and fills her brain with different memories to replace those of her false life. Well, not quite replace, but smooth over.

Memories of a life stolen from both of us. The life we could've...should've had. Still as close as to reality before the end. A life where my Silver got to grow up in her own home, where she got to have a couple more years with her doting father, where she got to meet her brother. A life where we gots to escape and be together. Happily evers after.

Perhaps it was as much for me as Silver if I be honest. Looking at her now, I still see the six year old child the fictional version of myself I did carry with me into the woods to make our new home. Where we gots spend all these centuries together, not apart, where my heart wasn't reduced to a lump of coal in my withered chest and my little girl wasn't growing up feeling unloved and unwanted.

The little'en stirs and then curls into me when she recognises my scent, her body relaxed as can be in her condition. Comfy in the long bones that be my arms.

"Mummy....I just had the strangest dream." She tells me, eyes still closed with that beautiful smile on her face.

I kiss her nose and stroke the pink fringe of hair from her brow; "Oh yeahs? Go on then, darling girl. Tell Mummy all abouts it."

[sleepless-strawberry]

[WP] You're an ex-supervillain on probation. When the state let you out of the supermax-prison, they appointed your nemesis, the hero(ine), as your parole officer. This isn't going to be easy for either of you…

“See I was never all that big on the whole supervillain shtick.

“The way I saw it was either I start working at a whorehouse, sell my organs or well… minor criminal activity. 

“Okay, okay, I know that sounds bad but times were tough and I didn’t have much going for me in terms of well… education in general. 

I’d like to think that I never put anyone in life threatening danger but I know what I did was wrong and I can only hope you forgive me… because at the end of the day… I did it for you… Jane, my sweet little girl and as it turns out, superheroine.” I look across the empty white room that has a large one-sided mirror, a desk, to which I’m cuffed, a pair of metal folding chairs and on the other side is one of the top superheroes of Burlesk Bay and well yeah… my 18 year old daughter… who I abandoned pretty much right after birth. 

The superheroine known as Forcefield Girl was wearing a dark blue skin-tight suit with a white shield depicted on her chest. She donned a simple cape of the same dark blue colour and something that resembled a more sleek version of a SWAT helmet that covered her head, ears and eyes. 

Despite that, I could clearly see the death glare from behind her visor. 

“Not buying it.”

“Tch.”

“Dame Dove, you’re a notorious villainess with a… reputation to say the least. And even if you are my biological mother, I know nothing of your civilian identity, Diana D. Dove… if that even is your real name.”

“C’mon sweetie don’t be this way!”

“Ms. Dove, we just met yesterday for the first time in over 18 years.” 

“Because I had a change of heart and decided to switch the side of good after seeing what a brave heroine you’ve become!”

“You broke into my house, intoxicated, and then tried to seduce your ex-husband, my father, before I promptly arrested you in my civilian clothes.”

“It was a touching reunion wasn’t it.” I say as I use one of my fingers to wipe away the non-existent tears. 

Forcefield Girl lets out a long siiiiggghhh. “If we could come back to the topic of why we shouldn’t imprison you in max-security for your over two decades worth of bio-terrorism?” Snapping back at the false accusation I shout “Hey! Since when was what a woman does in her free time considered bio-terrorism?!” “Ever since a woman’s free time included flocking the city streets with hundreds of thousands of pigeons.” I could hear as her voice started becoming more stern, losing her patience at my tomfoolery. 

“... that wasn’t me.” Hopefully I can still deny my connection to my supervillain identi-

My thoughts are interrupted by a recording of my own voice coming from the speaker in the room “What the fuck do you mean you’re arresting me?! Don’t you know who I am! I’m Dame Dove! Real name, Diana D. Dove! The greatest supervillain the world has ever seen! And also you mother, I think! I love white bread and my address is 2-” 

The recording cut there. 

Well I’m officially fucked! Note to self: never break into my exs’ house again using a tornado of pigeons and reveal sensitive information after drinking too much. 

Forcefield Girl tried to massage her temples but failed due to her helmet still being on. Coughing awkwardly to hide her embarrassment she kept going “Let’s cut to the chase Ms. Dove. We don’t usually do this with the villains we’ve captured but the Council has decided to put you on probation in the Hero Team I’m currently responsible for, Temperance if you were to agree to some of our… conditions.” She pushes a stack of documents over to me as she speaks. 

“Yeesh, so business-like for my alleged daughter!” I say not expecting a reply as I start to read through the terms. 

Blah blah blah. You are forbidden to harass people with animals of the Columbidae bird family. Blah blah blah blah blah. No terrorism. Blah blah blah blah blah. No breeding invasive species. Yada yada yada. Ah! There it is! You are not allowed to disclose to the general public that 50% of the pigeon population in the United States of America are surveillance drones!

I fucking knew that blackmailing the government with that nifty piece of info would pay off! Fuck yeah! Let’s go, me!

I started signing the documents with new-founded zeal as there is a gross lack of pigeons, traumatised ex-husbands and abandoned daughters who are secretly superheroines in max-security prison. There was simply no way on Earth, heaven or hell that I was going to miss out on all that fun!

I sign the documents with a doodle of a pigeon, or at least something vaguely resembling it since artistic talent is something that I’m quite short of. 

“Well, Jane, looks like we’ll be working together going forwards, feel free to call me mommy!” I grin trying not to let the hilarity of it all show on my face. 

“Mhm… can’t wait…” her voice was empty as she replied but I could almost see her rolling her eyes back behind her visor. 

God, this is going to be soooo fun! For me at least!

[luvhaos]

lost | lty

pairing: lee taeyong x gn! reader genre: married! au, fluff word count: 408 summary: it seems your husband has misplaced something

You’re a little confused when you come home to find the door unlocked. You could have sworn that you locked in when you went to work in the morning, a fact that has your blood pumping hurriedly. You’re steeling yourself the worst — the aftermath of a break in or, more terrifying, one in progress. You grip your phone tightly, ready to dial 911 at any moment as you push the door open.

Your apartment looks like a tornado swept through. Everything is out of place, shoved to the side or moved off a shelf. And in the middle of the chaos is your husband, Taeyong, peering under the coffee table on his hands and knees. His head whips towards you so quickly that it bangs against the table and he yelps. You drop your work bag and kick your shoes off quickly, rushing over to him. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bump,” he says and his voice is quieter than usual. He looks up at you with his big, soft eyes and you see bits of sorrow and anguish in them. “How was your day?”

“It was fine but, baby, honestly I’m more concerned about you right now.” You glance around the living room and Taeyong takes the hint that you want some sort of explanation.

His shoulders slump and he’s frowning deeply, forehead creasing as silence falls between you. You tense; whatever it is Taeyong is so bothered by, it’s clear that it’s tormented him for a while. You can practically see the gears turning in his head and he finally lets out a long, sad sigh and says, “I lost my wedding ring.”

You relax and ask gently, “That’s it?”

His frown only deepens. “What do you mean, “that’s it”? It’s my wedding ring.”

“We can always buy a new one, love.”

He rests his forehead against your shoulder and you hear the absolute despair in his tone. “But it won’t be the same. That was the ring you put on my finger on the most special day of my life.”

Your heart aches and fills all at once and you press your lips to the crown of his head. “Why did you take it off anyway?”

“Cooking,” he replies. “I don’t know how I misplaced it so badly. One minute it was on the counter, the next it was gone.”

“It can’t have gone far then. Come on, I’ll help you look.”

[tomtenadia]

Milestones

Anonymous asked:

Aelin and Rowan are woken up by their toddler girl all excited telling how she "peed like a boy, like daddy"

@rowaelinprompts

I saw this and I started laughing so hard so I had to write something. It’s very short and I hope fun too.

757 words of hopefully decent rowaelin domestic fluff with their daughter.

----

MILESTONES

Rowan and Aelin had soon learned the true beauty of at least seven hours of sleep. Their daughter Maya was four and she was finally adapting to sleep throughout the night. Maya had always been a restless kids and they had spent a lot of sleepless nights. Now she was becoming a big girl and her visits to the big people bed had diminished. Her parents did not mind to have her in their bed, problem was, Maya never came alone. Depending on the night, she might take between one and three soft toy, making the bed crowded. Rowan did not mind. It had taken them so long to get their daughter that he would accept anything. She was his world together with his wife. Sleep was secondary. When the crowding got bad, he had started to pull Maya on his chest and his daughter loved to fall asleep on her father while his arms cradled her and Aelin tucked at his side. On occasion, Aelin would wrap her arm too, if she was awake enough to notice the position. That night though Maya had stayed in her bed and Rowan held his wife in his arms. He had briefly woken up and when he saw the time on his phone he cursed, pulled Aelin closer to him and tried hard to fall back in Morpheus’ arms. 

He almost managed the feat when he heard sounds coming from the bathroom. Maya had been potty trained for a very long time and knew that his daughter might get up and use the loo on her own. Nonetheless he kept his ears for any sounds that she might need help.

What he was not expecting was the sound of the pitter patter of her naked feet on the floor and the bedroom door to flung open.

“Dada, mama!” She ran and clumsily tried to climb on the bed and Rowan pulled her up.

In that instant Aelin groaned and woke up and sat beside her husband “What is it?”

“Why is the little tornado in bed with us?”

“Mama I peed like a boy. Like daddy.”

A huge toothless grin spread on her face and her green eyes shone in the faint light of the room.

“What do you mean you peed like daddy?”

“Up.”she lifted her arms in the air for emphasis. 

Rowan looked at Aelin and then both started to move. He grabbed his daughter and only then he noticed a faint smell of urine on her pyjama. 

Aelin was already in the bathroom and was laughing when he reached her.

Maya’s green potty lay beside the big toilet and around it a big puddle of pee.

Maya giggled “peed like dada. I am a big boy.”

Aelin was laughing hard. Maya had seen her cousin Aidan learning to pee like a boy once they were at Lys’ place. She had asked all of the uncomfortable question and Aelin had tried to explain her daughter about the different plumbing between girls and boys. She had then explained that her dad did it that way too.

“Yes you did, my love,” Aelin lifted her daughter in her arms “and you made a mess.” She then turned to her husband “next thing you might want to teach her to lower the toilet seat when she is done.”

Aelin went to her room and grabbed some clean clothes for the little girl while Rowan was cleaning up the mess “she just needs to get better at target practice,” he added with almost pride in his voice.

“Rowan, you boys have an appendix that should help stay on target and still miss…”

Her husband laughed hard while he stashed the mop away “Hey at least I remember to lower the seat.”

Aelin kissed him while she was changing Maya “Yes, you are a trained male. Took me a while…” then she smacked a kiss on Maya’s cheek “didn’t we Maya? We trained dada.”

“I peed up!” She exclaimed happily and they both realised that for their daughter had been a fun little adventure.

“That you did, you are a grown up girl and maybe we can start use the big potty? Like mum and dad?”

The little girl smiled happily, feeling important all of a sudden.

Rowan took her in his arms “Come, tomorrow you can tell grampa that you peed like him.”

They walked back to their room and carried Maya with them, placing the girl in-between. She was asleep very quickly and in the darkness of the night Rowan and Aelin kept giggling.

“Our little weirdo…”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Pretty please with sugar on top can modern!Pero take me out on a date, can we get a babysitter for our four year old and drink cocktails and eat steak?! I would adore you forever. Can he call me cielo?!

You mean this little love taking you out for a night on the town? It would be my pleasure, mi cielito @yespolkadotkitty

Modern!Pero x reader

8.4K words

Warnings: fluffiness, children, food, smut, scarring

An agonised groan arises from Pero as a sharp knock sounds upon your door. Grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger so that he can look you dead in the eye, he softly growls, “Right, hermosa - the plan of action is that we throw Javi at them and we run, sí?”

“Pero - these are your parents! You have not seen them in three months, they are going to want to see their big boy as much as their littlest one,” you castigate him, shaking your head, “I feel bad going out tonight and leaving Javi with them, when they have quite literally just landed here.”

Another knock. This time, it is even sharper and is followed by a shout through the structure, “¡Por el amor de Dios, abre la puta puerta! For god’s sake, open the bloody door!” comes Pero's mum's voice, “¡Puedo escucharte hablar, idiotas! I can hear you talking, idiots!”

Sheepishly opening the door, the broad expanse of your husband shrinks into a little boy - lifting his right hand to wave at her as he hangs his head, “Hola, Mama. Hola, Papa.”

After tapping his hip - as if he was still living under their rules - his mama pulls him into a massive hug and kiss, and all the grumpiness disappears from his face. Jimena then turns to you - placing her hands on either side of your face, her eyes crinkling kindly, saying, “Mija, go. My son needs to take you out - we will have plenty of time for catch-ups later.”

“You look so tired,” she tuts, “He has obviously not been taking good enough care of you, so go enjoy yourselves. We will see you tomorrow afternoon. I will have a sobremesa ready for when you return.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow afternoon?” The panic is written across your face and you spin around to where Pero is embracing his Papa as the two of them silently ask how the other is doing through their series of nods - a language you’ve grown to love learning.

“Si, we are not just going for food but I also got us a suite where we won’t be woken at 6 am for CBeebies and Cap’n Crunch.” With a soft smile upon his face, he reaches out to you, to pull you into his side. “My parents have wanted to do this for us for a while. It’s all booked, I’ve already packed - you don’t have to lift a finger, just come with me and we can pretend we’re not parents for a night.”

The wink and smirk from your husband makes your eyebrow raise, “Yeah? That feels like such a long time ago, I’m not sure I can recollect those times.”

“Let me help you remember, cielo,” his lips dust the sensitive skin of your neck before whispering, “We used to… sleep!”

“Pero - you can’t say that! Not in front of your parents,” you wickedly tease, both standing there chuckling in the hallway of your flat. Javi has long since been swept up in a tornado of kisses from his abuelita and abuelo.

Jimena reappears like the bruja, you are certain she is, “Pssh, how do you think this tonto arrived?” she pinches her son’s cheeks and the look upon his face screams for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Mama, por favor - we were talking of sleep,” Pero pleads, looking as if he is dying a little on the inside.

“Well, that better not be the only thing you do or you’ll have to book a second night too,” she shakes her head, returning to the kitchen with a wave over her shoulder, “Javi will be fine, apart from the terrible Spanglish he is speaking to his Tias Gloria and Elisa via FaceTime with Abuelo in the kitchen. Go, niños - enjoy yourselves.

“Javier - ahora sigues las reglas de la abuela, con muchos besos, azúcar y mimos. Javier - you follow granny's rules now,with lots of kisses, sugar and spoiling.”

A warm, large hand placed in the middle of your back seeks to soothe your worry at leaving your four-year-old baby overnight, the thumb stroking your spine, “Come on, cielo. The night is ours.”

✪✪✪✪✪

The train ride into the city is a sweet meditation on the sprawling urban landscape with its bright graffiti and soaring buildings, becoming more fervent in their wish to reach the sky, the further into town you go. Normally, Pero would sit opposite, with Javi tightly huddled into his side but today, your husband sits right next to you - thighs pressed against each other, an arm stretched around your shoulder as he absentmindedly fiddles with your hair. Both of you enjoy the quiet electrical hum of the engine, the quiet soundtrack of other commuters and the gentle rocking of the carriage that causes you to sway into each other.

“Are you ok, mi cielo?” your husband tenderly prompts, stroking a tendril of hair away from your neck.

“Yeah. I’m more than ok, mi sol,” you stroke his thigh gently, “I love Javi with all of my heart and soul but when we get time to be just us, that’s pretty fucking special.”

Turning towards Pero, threading your fingers through his hair - his arm now dropping to your hip, his fingers skirting up and down at the base of your spine, “Te quiero mucho. Thank you so much for this.”

Wordlessly responding to the gratitude, your husband tilts his head slightly as he leans forward to place the lightest of kisses upon your lips. How is it that even after all these years, even the smallest touch from him can utterly set every one of yoursenses on fire? Before you have a chance to ponder any further, his arms are encircling you to draw you in deeper to him, the kisses slowly building in their ferocity as you allow him to flood you with his love. In Pero’s arms, you feel swept away upon a surging tide that steals your breath with the warmth of his mouth, washing away every worry of what pertains to adulthood, blurring and replacing them with a swimming giddiness. You drink him in, kissing him back fervently - as if you were back in the swirling lights of that club and it was the first time all over again.

All too soon, the train pulls into the terminal and you have to disentangle yourselves from each other. Pulling apart, you hear a startled gasp from a couple sitting diagonally from you, causing Pero to spin around and glare, “Sorry for the surprise- from the kissing, my wife and I thought you were teenagers.”

Scowling and shaking his head at these words, Pero growls, “I will kiss my wife like this until I am cold and buried.”

The elderly woman winks at you, grinning, “Lucky lady!”

As Pero leads the way, offering you a supportive hand to get down from the train, you smile back over your shoulder at her, “I truly am.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Where are you taking me?” you gaze around at the tourists flowing in a river of smiles, their phones taking memories to show to their friends back home.

Stooping slightly to speak in your ear above the hubbub of the streets, Pero’s delicious baritone fills the shell of your ear, “Somewhere to line your belly before you line my bed tonight.”

A wave of heat washes through you at his words. There is a genuine moment where you deliberate whether you really want to eat out or just order room service and fuck this man’s brains out.

“Cielo? Shall we continue?”

Slowly raising your gaze to his, you bite your lip before responding, “I kind of just want to head to the hotel.”

“No. We eat, we drink, then…,” he straightens himself slightly, looking through his thick lashes at you, “Then you can do as you please with me.”

You stick out your bottom lip in protest, earning a teasing chuckle from your husband, “Why so sad, cielito? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

“Better be.”

Pulling your hip into his, Pero nods towards an exquisite building - bold geometric lines with stunning ornamental curves and delicate stained glass windows decorate the Art Deco structure. You teasingly shrug your shoulders, “S’ok, I guess.”

After a small huff and roll of his eyes, his hand taps you on your bottom to urge you on forward. As you walk up to the building, a handsome, tall man sweeps in front of you to open the door, before politely stating in a cut-glass English accent, “Allow me.”

As you open your mouth to thank him, Pero’s brooding shadow catches the corner of your eye as he closes the distance to take the door from the sharply suited gentleman who has such a familiar face, “I hold the door for my wife.”

“Pero! I am so sorry for my husband’s rudeness,” you see a small tic in his jaw as you apologise to … Shit, that’s why he looks and sounds so familiar, it’s Tom fucking Hiddleston.

Bloody London and its bloody celebrities.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” a small genuine smile crosses Tom’s face as he looks you up and down, “If you were my wife, I’d feel the same way.”

Shaking his head as his face softens, your husband mutters, “Yet, I am the lucky one.”

“You truly are,” Tom kindly agrees before turning to leave, “Have a wonderful evening!”

Standing there, wordlessly shaking your head at Pero. How is it that this idiot of a man manages to take himself from making you want to strip him naked and devour him to wanting to shake him for his grumpiness?

As he stands there putting in his reservation with the host, he keeps one hand on you. His fingers tracing along the waistband of your knickers through your dress, stroking back and forth. Whilst the host looks your reservation up on the system, Pero turns back towards you, his smile disappearing when he sees your face, “What have I done this time, hermosa?”

“Do you know who that was?”

“No lo sé I don’t know.”

Your husband’s ability to turn from a fully grown man to a sulky child in a split second, never ceases to amaze you. Drawing a deep breath and tapping into your pot of endless patience for him, you utter, “That was Loki.”

Pero does not speak initially, his mouth making a silent O before he eventually shrugs - a triumphant smirk upon his face as he snorts, “Loki thinks my wife’s hot. Have to say I agree with him. Maybe I’ll forgive him for his earlier transgression.”

In an Oscar-worthy performance, you clutch your hand to your heart as you place another upon your husband’s chest, “Your generosity to others' indiscretions is boundless, mi amor!”

“Gracias, gracias,” he chuckles, reluctantly laughing at his truculence.

✪✪✪✪✪

Before you can playfully swat at your husband, the host offers to take you upstairs. As you walk further in, a spiral staircase curls languidly upwards. Pero steps behind you, making his way in your previously trodden steps as you both ascend the swirling back and white marble. Whilst you know that Jimena would have drummed these manners into him as a little boy, you give him an extra roll of your hips with each step, enjoying the quiet groan he releases.

Entering the bar, the waiter, who takes over your care from the host, shows you to some seats in the bar whilst you wait for your table to be ready. A leather-bound cocktail menu is placed in your hands awaiting your perusal, the paper inside expensive and glossy.

“What will it be, madam?”

“I wish I could have one of everything. Hmmm,” you ponder as your face twists quizzically. You don’t notice how Pero watches you deliberate whether to go with the apples to booze alchemy of Le Crunch 75 or the light, bitter and bright Falling Water Spritz?

“Any idea, querida?” the green leather of the bar stool creaks as your husband shifts his weight, awaiting your decision with a patience he ill affords anyone else.

“Think I’ve got it down to two cocktails but they both look so good,” your mouth watering at the thought of the tartness of the drinks.

“Okay, we will take one of each of the cocktails my wife can’t choose between,” you send him a silent thank you at his words to the server.

As they leave, Pero reaches across the table to take your hand in his. The span of his hands entirely covering yours as his fingers and thumbs trace lazy patterns across them. Without fail there is always a part of him touching you - it is almost as though through this level of contact, he is able to deal with the bullshit from the rest of the world. His grumpiness allays with every stroke of you - whether skin to skin or through a layer of clothing. A smile ticks at the corners of his mouth as he recharges his ability to deal with the universe by being as close to you as he possibly can.

Out of Pero’s hawk-like hearing, William has often remarked to you about how much you have softened his business partner (for the better) to the point where occasionally, when he has a full belly of food, he will even allow your husband to talk to new clients. His brilliance in IT security, having started out as a bedroom-based hacker, has never been in doubt but his softer skills - the ability to not utterly terrify people - have always been somewhat lacking. Now as an ethical hacker alongside his oldest friend, and with you, cushioning his hard edges - he manages to speak a little more politely.

Well, most of the time.

Pero had apparently known from the moment that you trod on his foot that he would marry you, telling William mere seconds after you had both shoved each other on that fated dancefloor. Spending the rest of the night utterly spellbound by this hechicera enchantress, watching how you twirled and spun upon that floor, chattering away easily with your friends - your face so animated and passionate. He knew. That night, William spent so much time trying desperately and failing spectacularly to get his friend to rejoin the bachelor party to celebrate his last nights as a free man but Pero positively growled at his friend’s efforts as for him this was it. He just knew. William eventually patted his friend on his back and left him staring at you across that darkened room with its throbbing music, a little jealous. He mentioned to you a little later, over some beers at his wedding, that the love he had with Lin Mae was not quite as instantaneous.

“Your drinks,” the server returns with a smile at how neither of you have seemed to move in the time they’d been at the bar, utterly lost in each other, “Your table should be ready soon.”

“You choose which one you want to start with and I shall take the other,” Pero lifts his chin towards the drinks before reaching for the one you do not gravitate towards, “Salud, mi amor.”

“Salud,” as you take a sip, the raspberry eau de vie entirely cleanses your palate, “Why did you not just order your own drink, rather than letting me order both?”

Sitting back, he shrugs a little as a flicker from the candle flame sparkles in his eye, “I don’t care about the drink. It’s just being able to have this time with you.

“We work very hard. Such long hours and then in the evenings when we’re together, it is us just being Javi’s mami and papi until we flop on the sofa too tired to be human. Like you said earlier, I love our niño with all of my heart but having you to myself - that’s something else. And, if it means that I try a cocktail that I wouldn’t have necessarily picked from a menu because that way you get to try both, so be it. I get to see the woman I love being happy and that is everything to me. Although, I see I might not get to taste the one you have… had in front of you, si?”

“It’s warm here. It must have evaporated with the heat,” a warmth creeps through your cheeks, although not necessarily due to the alcohol. Leaning towards Pero, you drop your gaze coyly - your tongue dancing across your lip before uttering, “There is another way you could taste it.”

“Si?” his eyes drop to your lips, head tilting towards you.

Breaking the moment to sit back in your chair, you declare, “You could order another one.”

“Ah qué coqueta! What a tease!” Pero breathlessly gasps, gently grabbing a handful of your dress to pull you to his lips as you giggle into his mouth.

A small cough alerts you to another presence at the table, “Sorry to disturb you, your table is ready.”

Walking through the restaurant, you realise that most of the light has dipped from the day as the rays entering through the half-moon-shaped windows now has an inkier depth than the last rays of autumnal sunlight you’d entered the bar in. Along with the softly flickering candlelight and shy sconces semi-concealing anything more than a glow, the low-lit ambiance casts a romantic softness around the room. All around, the scents of wondrous feasts arise from people’s tables making you desperate to dip your fingers in the sauces on the plates you walk past - it is all you can do to keep your hands to yourself and knowing Pero, he’d be feeling exactly the same way. Finally having walked across the beautifully polished herringbone flooring, you reach your table for the night. Having been handed your menus and left to peruse the offerings, you notice that as soon as the server leaves you, Pero places his menu face down upon the walnut table.

“Cariño, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you choosing your food?”

A small smirk plays below his thick moustache, “You look worried cielo, and you needn’t be. I learnt the menu before we came so I know exactly what I am having. The half lobster to start, the chateaubriand for main, and the pavlova to finish - then cielo, you may roll me out of here a happy man.”

“I swear your brain is located somewhere near your tummy, but I cannot fault your choices- can we also get the grilled bone marrow, triple fried chips and asparagus, please?”

“Por supuesto, mi amor.”

As if by magic, your server reappears as Pero’s eyes start to search the room, “What would you like to order, madam?”

“I think we will both have the half lobster to start- and could we have some pisco sours to go alongside that, please? For the main, we will have the chateaubriand- medium rare with the triple fried chips, grilled bone marrow, asparagus and a bottle of the Black Label Rioja, thank you.”

“Perfect choices and drinks to go with them.”

The entire time you’ve been sitting at the table, Pero’s long legs have been stretched between yours and now that your menus have been removed, he reaches across to take your hand in his. Having obstacles, such as tables, between the pair of you means that Pero seeks out other ways to have that constant contact. Unlike you, who are currently soaking up every opportunity to people watch, Pero enjoys watching every flicker upon your face - every twitch of amusement and momentary frown as you take in the details of the other diners.

“Are you playing your game again, mi amor?” he questions with a crinkle of his eyes.

“Too right I am - are you going to help me?” your grin grows as you gaze around the tables of diners.

Releasing a small huff, Pero’s face crumples in a small frown, “How can I? My back is to the room. I cannot see their faces, si?”

“Use the mirror behind me - I’ll describe their clothes then let's work out why they’re here and if it’s a date, what number it is, and how well you think it’s going.

“Ok, table to my right, he looks very preppy - starched shirts, ironed creases and floofy hair hiding a receding hairline. City type. She looks like a quirky artist - purple hair fading to magenta at the tips, green eyeshadow and bright blue fifties prom dress.”

“He is massively punching. She’s far too pretty for him and he’s too dull for her. Second date - she’s enjoying being wined and dined - and to be honest, she looks like she could do with a decent meal - but not the company. ¡Siguiente!Next!”

With the laugh escaping your lips, your chin tilts up and your eyes become crescents, “You’re so dismissive, cariño. Give them a chance - he can’t be that dull. He’s certainly passionate about something because look at how he’s using his hands when he speaks.”

“Si, Pero look at how she is having to use her arms to fend off the flying food being spat at her from his passion,” Pero crosses his arms, shaking his head, “Querida, I bet his passion is his Tesla that he only bought as a status symbol not because it is a good car.”

Your discussion of the couple is prematurely halted by the arrival of the Pisco sours and lobster. A Cheshire Cat-like grin carves its way across your husband’s face - his eyes hooded and heavy - as the food’s aroma hits his nose, “Are these Dorset Blues?”

“You know your lobsters, sir,” the server smiles genuinely, looking impressed at Pero’s knowledge, “They are indeed - fresh off the boat this morning. Enjoy!”

“We will,” after shaking his napkin out to place it upon his lap, your husband looks up and catches you grinning at him, “What is that smile for, mi amor?”

“One day. One day, we will own a small restaurant by the sea and you can cook all those amazing dishes you grew up eating.”

On hearing your words, he pauses in his demolition of the food in front of him to consider your words before swallowing his mouthful, “Only if we promise not to hit new parents around the ear.”

“Are you still sore about that, sweetheart?” you snort into your drink, the memory refreshing itself in your brain.

“It was well meant if a little heavy handed and all three of us went on to have a lovely meal that night, once you were able to separate yourself from Javi for two minutes.”

Pero’s brow furrows sulkily as he sets to eating once more, “Want me to help you with your cracker for the claw?”

“Hmmm, I’m wondering what your commission will be, Señor Tovar,” you eye him suspiciously over the top of your pliers, the cold metal kissing your lips as your eyebrow arches skyward, “You do an amazing job of removing all the meat but then I probably lose about the same amount as I would if I did the cracking myself...So I ask you, what do you charge, sir and is it worth my time?”

“For that damning indictment of my character, twenty percent, señora,” he huffs in mock outrage.

“Make it ten and I’ll look the other way when you lick your knife.”

“Fifteen and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Sold, to the sexy Spaniard sitting opposite me,” you comically wink at him as you pass your plate over.

“Still find me sexy after all these years?” a little smile plays at the corner of his mouth as he expertly cracks the claw in front of him, not damaging a bit of meat.

“Yeah, you’re alright,” you grin as you take another sip of your sour, “You’ll do.”

Pero passes you the meat back, “Praise indeed. Here is your meat, señora.”

“And your cut, sir,” you load up a forkful of the succulent flesh and offer it across the table. You watch as Pero’s lips open to devour it, the thoughts racing through your mind of other things that he loves to ravage with his mouth.

✪✪✪✪✪

After your plates are tidied away and Pero’s knife shines more than the rest of the cutlery, your steaks, sides, and wine arrive. You love watching how your husband’s eyes light up with the reveal of each item as he steadily loads up the plate in front of him. His love of food is one of the many reasons you love him. How, on that first date, he’d been impressed with the way you’d kept up with his eating and drinking (but perhaps not quite as well with the latter). How that dinner easily moved into breakfast behind a large pair of sunglasses, then lunch, then dinner again. Each date never quite ended for longer than one of you running to find a clean set of clothes, but always revolving around food and each other.

The food is utterly sumptuous - you make easy work of it, devouring the melt-in-the-mouth meat and perfectly cooked chips. The wine too evaporates easily into your welcoming mouths. You notice a tiny flicker of annoyance as Pero stabs a spear of asparagus, giving it a serious side-eye before placing it in his mouth, muttering, “I can’t believe you made me eat something green.”

“What am I now, your mama?” you raise your eyebrows at his moan, “At least I didn’t order the spinach too this time. Come on, let's choose another table - your turn.”

“Okay, querida. Two tables to your left.”

“First date.”

“Obviously - do you think it will last?”

You nod silently, fully understanding the look that is shared between the new lovers. That moment where reality becomes like one of those photographs with a fuzzy background - the only part in lucid focus is the person in front of you. Every other detail of where you are completely blurred out of existence, utterly meaningless in that moment.

“Me too,” Pero says softly, making a small lump rise to the back of your throat, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it just makes me happy. Brings back memories.”

The gold of his ring glints in the candlelight as he reaches across the highly polished walnut surface to take your hand, “The moment I met you, you filled my lungs with the sweetest, freshest air I have ever breathed. And I knew. I knew straight away that you were the person with whom I would spend the rest of my life.

“It wasn’t a matter of you being perfect, and we both are fully aware that I am certainly not either but we are perfect for each other. You are the first person, I have ever allowed myself to be everything that I am. You allow my soul to breathe. You let me be and love me for the man I am.

“I know I have never really told you that - how much you mean to me - and I should have done it, years ago. I love you. I love you with every part of me. I loved you from the moment you stepped on my foot…”

Through a snotty and tear streaked face, you complain as your voice stutters quaveringly upon the words, “I didn’t tread on your foot - you were just looking for a way to touch me - although it couldn’t have been anymore playground. Should have just pulled my plaits…”

“Corazón,” Pero’s eyes darken a little as he pulls your hand closer to whisper in your ear, “I found that pulling your hair had a very different effect on you a couple of days later so probably best that I didn’t do it in the middle of the club.”

You smirk into the bowl of the wine glass before your husband continues, “I tell you that I love you all the time but perhaps not the depth of my feelings for you and how quickly I knew that you would be it for me.”

“Maybe not aloud. Maybe not through words but in your actions and your constant thoughtfulness, I have always known.” You stroke the olive toned back of Pero’s hand, “I don’t think you realise how much you say in the things that you do. My glass of wine on the table when I get home from work. The photos of Javi you send me as you pick him up from school every day. If I’m anxious about something - using your grumpy common sense - you manage to talk me down. You show your love for me a thousand ways every day.”

Clearing your plates without breaking the moment being shared between you and Pero, the servers pass around you as if they were ghosts. Letting go of your husband’s hand, you stroke his cheek as you walk past him to the loo to sort out the mess he’d made of your face. Nuzzling into your hand, he kisses it as you drift by. On your way to the bathroom, you pass many other dates in various stages of their relationships but there’s only one that truly matters. A quick glance over your shoulder tells you everything - he has turned to watch you walk away. His shy smile at being caught lights up your cheeks as you open the heavy door.

The bathroom is a glorious celebration of monochrome geometric shapes and brass fittings. Walking up to one of the stunning sunburst mirrors affixed to the wall, you set about fixing the makeup that was left to stream in rivulets down your cheeks with Pero’s declaration. Rubbing off the panda eyes and applying a new layer of lipstick, you make to leave but are alerted to a rustle of electric blue taffeta coming through the door, “I love your dress. It’s utterly stunning.”

“Thank you - listen, I hope this isn’t weird but I actually came in here to check that you were ok as I saw you cry at the table,” the concerned face of the woman from a couple of tables to your right checks you over.

“Sorry, it must have looked a bit dramatic but my normally quiet, grumpy husband was just being soppy,” you giggle in the bathroom camaraderie, gesturing to your face, “Hence the snotty mess. Never managed to be a pretty crier.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” the blue dress lady strokes your arm empathetically, “I’m a bit jealous. Mine is a Tinder date. He’s great in bed, but I hate that he feels he has to buy me dinner first.”

Laughing at her honesty, you shake your head, “At least enjoy the food - he’s brought you to a decent restaurant! Have a good rest of your evening and thank you for checking. My husband might come across as abrupt and look a bit scary but he is the sweetest person I know.”

Suddenly, a whim overtakes you. Thinking upon all of those little acts of love Pero does for you daily, you decide it is time to do one for him as you duck into one of the stalls.

✪✪✪✪✪

When you return there are dessert menus on the table, and Pero’s head turns as he hears your footsteps come closer, “Hoping that I would be someone bearing food?” you ask him teasingly.

Huffing softly at your comment, he shakes his head, “You wound me, señora. I was looking out for mi bella esposa but it seems she dipped her tongue in acid during her toilet trip.”

“Just entirely realistic. I know my place - huge emotional declarations aside - Javi and I still rate slightly lower than food in your world.”

A mock gasp escapes Pero, “Mi amor, our son is not lower than food on the scale of things that I love!”

As the server once again rejoins your table, you sit there mouth agape before bursting into a fit of giggles at your husband’s teasing. Pero is the first to speak, “If you could give us a couple more minutes please?”

Quickly brushing off your husband’s wish for you to have more time, you offer, “Oh no, I can choose quickly. It’s fine, thanks.”

“Well, while she chooses, I shall have an old fashioned and a strawberry and elderflower pavlova to finish, please.”

“Make that the same for me, please,” you ask the server, smiling as you hand the dessert menu back.

“Any coffee after the meal?” the server prompts politely.

Pero is quick off the mark in his response, “Two double espresso, please.”

Placing his palm up on the table in front of you, you place your left on top, stroking the lines sprawling across his calloused hand, “Do you think we should check in and see how the house of madness is doing?”

Pouting as he shakes his head, Pero rumbles, “No need, I already did when you left the table. Wanted to see if they’d put him to bed at a decent time.”

“Had they?”

The note of derision that passes through Pero’s lips causes several heads to turn in the restaurant, “Psssh! Course not! I think Javi has spoken to most of Andalusia this evening, been fed a diet of white sugar and food colouring, and thoroughly spoiled within an inch of his life.”

“But…,” you grin lazily at your husband.

“Si, querida?”

“He’s not our problem in the morning, hermoso.”

You watch as a slow smile spreads across Pero’s face at the realisation that he would wake up next to only you in your bed, “Oh the thought of my head nestled into your breasts instead of Javi’s big toe in my ear and his knee resting threateningly at my collarbone. I swear that boy is half araña Spider when he sleeps.”

“I swear, he does nothing but eat but all his limbs are just hollow. Mind you, you were all gangly as a child - the broadness came in a bit later, didn’t it?” your smile reaches both your ears as you recall the photos of your teenage husband - the skinny goth, who never left his room or computer.

Drawing a deep breath, Pero furrows his eyebrows, “When have you seen photos of me as a teenager, hermosa? Has my mama been showing you photos again? I thought I got rid of them.”

Your eyes dance wildly with laughter as you clamp your hand over your mouth, “No, my love. It’s not the photos your mama has shared of you that I’m thinking of. Not the family sanctioned ones of you wearing Ben Sherman shirts and chinos without the black lipstick and eyeliner. It was your exchange student friend- you know the one who came over from Ireland - who showed me the photos of you glowering in corners, wearing a lot of dog collars, Cure T-shirts and sporting a mop of raven black hair.”

As the incredible plates of strawberry and elderflower pavlova are presented to your table, there is a tic of embarrassment beneath Pero’s left eye, “¡Hijo de puta! Son of a bitch! Oh, I will destroy William when I next see him.”

“You need to teach me your eyeliner tricks, as you were way better than me. Hang on, is that how you became so good at nail polish?” you tease mercilessly.

“Well, if I was going to do it, I was going to do it properly. And… And there was another reason,” guilt floods your system as you see a flash of sadness cross your husband’s face.

“I was a typical self-conscious teenager with mild depression, mostly due to how I looked. Because of my scar, I felt like no one would ever want to be friends or anything more with me. After a particularly bad few weeks, mama took me to a plastic surgeon, who felt that further surgery would make the scarring worse but that perhaps makeup would reduce the angriness of the tissue.

“So I visited an amazing woman who taught me how to cover it perfectly using skin camouflage creams and other techniques for hiding everything from spots to keloid scarring. It all became a mask- a mask that I wore when I first met William. But as I grew into my skin and became a bit more confident as to who I was, I dropped the mask.

“And as for that tonto friend of mine, he was the first person to see me without- how does your mother say about her wearing makeup? Ah si - putting her face on. He saw me without my face on and he still wanted to be my friend. And if it wasn’t for that cabrón, I… I guess we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Maybe don’t destroy him too hard then, mi sol,” you gently utter, holding his hand so tightly, “I didn’t know any of that - I am truly sorry that you ever felt that way.

“I’ve always thought you were incredibly handsome - your dark curls, those goddamn cheekbones you can cut glass with and those beautiful lips. Those deliciously full, beautiful lips with that little maker's mark in the middle. Right from the moment I pushed you back and you grinned at me. Didn’t quite get why you stared at me for the rest of the night, right up until I was about to leave though.”

“I was having all these imaginary conversations with you inside my head, which is why I didn’t talk to you until after I kissed you,” Pero shuffles awkwardly in his seat, “I couldn’t then imagine a universe where you would willingly want to be around me.”

Drawing his hands to your lips, you kiss the calloused knuckles gently as you express, “I hope that you do now.”

“Querida, you have always made me feel utterly cherished. It may have not been the most conventional way to start speaking to someone but from the first moment you looked at me, you always made me feel like I am worthy of your love.”

There is sweet heat that runs through you at his words. You fully accept that albeit not legally, the two of you were married with your eyes and soul on that night in Sevilla. In that dingy club where the bass of the music could be felt in your ribs, within that first kiss you had seen all of each other - all the joys and all the sorrows - and it was not only Pero who had known that night as you had felt it too. You knew you had found your home.

“You know this is possibly the longest that food has ever lasted in front of us,” you remark upon viewing the as of yet untouched desserts sitting on the table between you.

Shaking his head slowly, Pero’s eyes glint mischievously, “No cielo, not the longest. Do you not recall the amount of picnics we packed and never ate, until we got in the car to go home?”

“We did have some of the best picnics ever in some very pretty car parks,” you snigger as you finally lift a forkful of the dessert to your mouth.

“Strange how we always found other things to do, sí?”

“Like taking in beautiful views?” you wink over another mouthful, enjoying the crisp outer shell of meringue cracking between your teeth before your tongue explores the sweet marshmallowy softness hidden inside.

“I can’t imagine what you mean, hermosa.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“Wait!”

You try to hide your smile as Pero spins back looking quizzically. His confusion makes perfect sense, after all, he has taken one step away from you outside the restaurant and your hand is still encased in his, tightly. One small tug of your husband’s hand and you are standing flush to his chest, your head tilted up to end the question upon his lips. With the bitterness of the espresso still fresh on his tongue, you grab fistfuls of his shirt to anchor yourself somewhere solid as he finds a gentler refuge upon your hips.

Eventually pulling apart, a smile slowly stretches across your face as you gaze into the burnt umber of your husband’s eyes, “Just missed those lips.”

Clasping his hands either side of your head, he nuzzles your forehead before dusting the sweetest of kisses upon there, then tucking you into his side as you walk into the torrent of tourists decorating the pavements along Regent Street. Blurry Edwardian facades forged from Portland Stone slide past as you pass shop after shop after shop until you tap on Pero’s tummy to point out the mosaics adorning the arches of the Apple store.

After a short walk, you come across a behemoth Victorian building that wouldn’t look out of place as a castle in the forests of Bohemia. Your husband pauses to gesture towards it, “Your place of rest for the night, my lady.”

With a wicked sparkle in your eye, you turn to Pero, “I hope rest is not the only option…”

Undoing his top button and loosening his tie, you see your husband start to teeter on the edge as you enter beneath the stately arches. Managing to behave yourselves impeccably as you walk through the foyer, you drink in the opulence of the hotel. Rainbow shards of light from the decadently strung crystal chandeliers dance across the highly polished marble flooring. You try to catch some of them on the toe of your shoe - a little quirk that has your husband’s eyes crinkling in amusement. In perfect step, you beat a path up the curving staircase, one of his hands on your hip guiding you towards the elevators.

As you walk towards the crowd awaiting the lift, there are several mirrors lining your way. In one, you catch a flash of feral lust darken Pero’s eyes. Finally arriving to the side of the group, your husband stands with his body flush to your back. Winding a hand in your hair, he gives it a small tug so that your throat opens to him. As his teeth graze along the sensitive flesh, his voice growls in your ear, “What happened to your underwear, cielo?”

“I… I took it off,” you stutter out, realising that he had no longer felt it beneath his fingertips as you had climbed the stairs together, “In the bathroom at the restaurant.”

You know that this piece of information has got to be driving your husband wild as you wait for the elevator. Pero’s fingers find traction upon your hips and the sweet sound of his breath catching in his throat has you wanting him as desperately as you know he needs you.

The elevator eventually shows with a sharp ting heralding its entrance, allowing the exit of another group before finally permitting your crowd entry. Despite being one of the last to arrive, you are shuffled into a far corner with Pero tucking himself neatly behind you. You can feel his semi-hard cock pressing up against your ass. Smiling to yourself of the power in your hips, you wriggle yourself against him - smirking with glee when you feel him grow harder.

As the elevator doors slowly pull shut, Pero gruffly calls out for someone to press the button for floor 15. It seems as though everyone is either a Londoner or well-versed in elevator etiquette as no one looks or speaks to anyone else. No one has a clue that you have no underwear on. No one has a clue that you are wriggling against your husband’s cock. And in that cramped corner of the lift, no one has a clue that he’s started to lift the back of the skirt of your dress.

Trying to regulate your breathing, feeling a tingle of excitement building in your tummy - the sneakiness of this act flutters through you as all the blood in your body heads south. As the elevator reaches the third floor, two people leave and another three join. As everyone shuffles to find comfort, that is when you feel your husband’s hand dip between the two of you, freeing his dick from his trousers so that it taps proudly against the unclothed apex of your bottom. You stare dead ahead into an unknown space, desperately trying to not create eye contact with anyone.

More people leave on the fourth floor allowing a little more room to spread out in. Pero takes advantage of this, sliding down the back wall a little to nudge your knees out. Having spread your feet a bit further apart, he tucks his hips back to press his cock into your awaiting pussy. Anyone looking at your face would have known that something is going on as his cock slips into your welcoming depths.

Having chosen such a floaty, peasant-style dress is massively working in your favour. The front drapes beautifully - hiding all manner of sins. The lightness of the fabric is just swaying, possibly - to any onlooker - as it should with the gentle ascent of the elevator. Being still wedged in the corner also means that there is no clear view of the sides of you.

You squeeze your cunt around him. Clenching rhythmically around the taut head of his cock and loving the stuttering breaths in your ear as he grabs at your sides, his fingers giving away his desire for a release.

“Princesa,” he warns quietly as his cock trembles within your warm, wet depths, “I will not make it to our room.”

His words give away so little of what is happening should anyone overhear - the two of you preferring to communicate through his agonising twitches and your squeezes.

Sixth floor.

Seventh floor.

Eighth.

Ninth.

On the tenth floor, more people exit with just one businessman and an elderly couple remaining with their eyes fixed upon the bronze doors. Pero and you are still squished up in the corner with his back to the mirror, not daring to make any sudden movements. Hishands slide up the inside of your linen waterfall cardigan- his whole attitude screaming fuck it.The elevator is almost empty at by this point.. Searching out your breasts, his hands ghost up your sides seeking out your soft, supple flesh. Thumbs and fingers exploring, pinching at your nipple as his cock twitches inside you all the while

By the doors shutting on the twelfth floor, you are alone and decide to give the CCTV handlers a good time. Pero grabs your tummy to steady you, growling, “Turn with me.”

A quarter turn from you and your husband has you facing the mirror as he roughly fucks into you from behind. Pulling away slowly until only the tip remains before slamming his full thickness into you - one hand squeezing a breast, the other stroking your clit. You open your eyes to watch as he rubs your clit rhythmically - that wave of tension building, building, building until you crash, cumming hard and wailing Pero’s name as you gasp for air. The clench of your cunt rips the climax from your husband, making him groan loudlyin your ear as he spills inside of you.

Breathlessly gazing upon each other in the mirror- sharing a smile- you wriggle a bit to try to regain the feeling in your jelly-like legs.

“We don’t have time for a second round here, Cielo,” Pero chuckles into your neck before nipping playfully at it.

The elevator stops, the doors slowly open - you adjust yourself quickly before wrapping an arm around Pero, desperately needing his solid, broad form for support, feeling as shaky and unsteady as a newborn foal, stepping into the hallway. Leaning heavily into his shoulder, you take tentative steps towards your room for the night, his cum leaking down between your legs.

Sliding his keycard and opening the door, Pero bows and gestures for you to enter, “Mi amor - your chamber awaits.”

“Oh Pero! This is …”

Walking through the small kitchenette into the main room, the illuminated view of London from the window takes your breath away. The glorious mess of neon lights and tangle of streets lie beneath your feet as you gaze out across the manic hustle and bustle of Oxford Circus. Lost in your thoughts, you barely register Pero pottering around behind you. Eventually, you turn to find a steaming cup of verbena herbal tea beside you - the scent taking you home to all the evenings you spend curled together with tea cups balanced precariously upon the sofa - as you lift it to your lips to take that first heavenly sip. You become aware of a gentle thundering in the background - the drumming sound of water filling a bath permeates the room before a soft pair of padding footsteps make their way over to you.

“Hermosa, can I get you undressed?” The husky baritone of your husband requests as his fingers wait patiently for permission to peel back your cardigan and dress.

A small nod from you has his fingers gently taking your arms from your sleeves, before shifting your hair over your shoulder to unzip the back of your dress. As the fastening falls open, he trails a finger along your spine, then gently stroking the straps down your arms as the material floofs cloud-like to the floor in a pool of creases. Pero offers his hands to help you to step out of the fabric pooling around your ankles - pulling your knuckles to his mouth in a tender kiss.

Strong arms guide you towards the awaiting bath, aiding your exhausted body into the water. Choosing a washcloth from the side, your husband wets and squirts a little body wash onto it before rubbing tender soapy circles all over your body. Once you’ve rinsed off, Pero selects one of the impossibly fluffy towels from the rack, holding it up to wrap around you as you step out. Hand in hand, he leads you to the glorious bed, patting the comforter for you to sit down.

“C’mon hermosa, let’s do that really sexy thing that we don’t get to do anymore.”

“Bringing it tonight aren’t you, viejo?” You grin at him from beneath your half-closed lids.

“Ah qué chica tonta oh what a silly girl. Sleep! I’m talking about sleep,” huffing as he hauls you into his chest, he folds his arms around you as you snuggle into the solid mass of him. Your eyes become heavy and every muscle starts to relax as you slowly drift off to sleep.

Safe, sleepy and satiated.

This was brought to you with an amazing beta from the beautiful @songsformonkeys

Thank you wonderful human 💐

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @ezrasbirdie @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @speakerforthedead0 @agirllovespancakes @songsformonkeys @adamdrivercouldchokeme @lv7867 @anxiousandboujee @kesskirata

As ever, I would be glad to add or remove you from the list.

If there are any other triggers that you’d like me to add, please let me know ❤️

[tsrookie]

Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

——————————

The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

——————————

A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

Taglist: @whimsicallywayward15 @aleynareads @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @the-pale-goddess @ohchoices @wellhelloramsey @mvalentine @swiftlydarcy @utterlyinevitable @akshara16 @sushiharrington @drethanramslay @lion-ess24 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @drariellevalentine @perriewinklenerdie @blossomanarchy @stateofgracious @takemyopenheart @open-heart-ramseyyy @maurine07 @udishaman @queencarb @ethanramseylover @rookiemarsswiftie @aworldoffandoms @lsvdw-blog @n03lia @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfan @jamespotterthefirst @senseofduties

Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist!

[sneezefiction]

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.” 

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive. 

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify. 

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat. 

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head. 

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good. 

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details. 

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library… 

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance. 

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold. 

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this. 

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space. 

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.” 

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials? 

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself. 

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him. 

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”