#and carried the stroller himself
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Light on - single mom/neighbor fic
Simon Riley/female reader
Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium
Simon’s phone is ringing.
Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.
His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen.
You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way.
“Hey, you-“
“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff.
It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train.
“He followed you from the platform?”
“Well, he could be walking this way too…”
“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?”
“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we.
The baby is with you.
His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her?
He feels sick.
“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.
“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“
“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?”
“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot.
“Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.”
“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head.
It all comes screeching to a stop.
He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name.
“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.”
“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it.
“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train.
“Oh my god.”
“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear.
“Our hero.”
#peaches writes#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#this might be my favorite?#Simon threatens a man because he scared you and I find that very attractive#light on
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Harry and yn and there two kids on holiday and fans come up to them and harry asks them to respect there privacy and all that?
Caribbean Privacy.
my masterlist || ask my anything <3
my blurb masterlist is here !!
authors note - first blurb of 2024 people and it’s based on the brand new photos we got, so enjoy my loves.
word count - 1.7k
in which, you and harry decided to go for a little family holiday to start the new year off on the right foot, and went to a caribbean island, where your just trying to enjoy yourselves, and spend some quality time with your two children, when a couple of fans spot your husband.
As the first light of the new year streamed through the curtains, you woke up to the sweet realization that your partner had planned a surprise holiday to the Caribbean.
The joy in your heart was mirrored in the excited expressions of Kai, your energetic five-year-old, and little Lexi, who had just turned six months old. The promise of sun-soaked beaches and turquoise waters made the early morning hustle of packing bags and herding the family to the airport an adventure in itself.
Arriving at your tropical destination, the sound of gentle waves and the warmth of the sun embraced you. The resort's palm-fringed surroundings set the stage for a family retreat filled with laughter and cherished moments.
The holiday would be lasting a total of two weeks and so far the four of you had been there for four out of a possible fourteen.
The first day was spent chilling and getting the kids into a routine, the second day was filled with sunbathing and the third day you took the kids to do some activities so that they wouldn’t get too bored.
It was the afternoon of the fourth day at the resort, for a majority of the morning you had all gone for a walk, trying to get your bearings of where you were going to be staying.
It was nearing one pm now, and the four of you were making your way to the hotel outdoor restaurant, where other families, friends and couples were currently sat, all decked out in summer clothes just like you and your family were.
The rhythmic roll of the stroller, carrying the enchanting Lexi, created a soothing background to the lively atmosphere. Harry, with Kai perched on his shoulders, exuded paternal pride as his son's tiny fingers playfully explored the newly sprouting hair after a recent buzz cut.
The infectious giggles from Kai echoed through the space, forming a symphony of joy that seemed to harmonize with the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of other guests.
Just moments later, a courteous waiter approached, exuding the charm of the Caribbean hospitality.
"Good afternoon! Can I start you off with some drinks?" he inquired with a warm smile.
Harry, with a chuckle, ordered a beer for himself, emphasising that it was a well-deserved vacation treat.
Kai, his eyes sparkling, announced proudly, "Chocolate milkshake, please!"
You joined in, opting for a refreshing mojito to complement the tropical ambiance. The waiter, noting down the orders, promised to return shortly with the concoctions that would add an extra layer of delight to your family gathering.
The backdrop of the restaurant's tropical charm provided the perfect setting for a moment of connection.
"This surprise vacation was a brilliant idea," you remarked, a smile playing on your lips.
Harry, his eyes filled with satisfaction, responded, "M’figured we all needed a break, and what better way t’start the year?"
Kai, still perched atop his father's shoulders, chimed in, "I like the beach, Mommy! Can we build a sandcastle tomorrow?"
His enthusiasm was infectious, prompting laughter from both you and Harry.
"Absolutely, buddy! We'll build the biggest sandcastle the beach ‘as ever seen," Harry promised, ruffling Kai's hair.
November 2019, you gave birth to Kai Robin Styles, at a home birth in yours and Harry’s London home.
As the conversation continued, you found yourselves reflecting on the year that had passed and the excitement of what lay ahead.
“ ‘Member when Lex was just a tiny bump?" Harry mused, glancing affectionately at your baby girl. "Now look at her, enjoying her first vacation. Time really does fly,"
You had gone into Labour with Lexi Anne Styles after Harry’s Show in Warsaw, the birth wasn’t very traumatic but the fact that you have birth in the backstage area of a stadium add a million different stress levels.
The waiter returned with a tray of drinks, delivering a frothy beer for Harry, a velvety chocolate milkshake for Kai, and a refreshing mojito for yourself.
The clinking of glasses marked the beginning of a shared toast.
"To family adventures and new beginnings," Harry proposed, raising his beer.
It wasn’t long before you had placed your food orders, and then it was back to chit chatting.
Lexi began to express her hunger with soft whimpers from the comfort of her stroller. Harry, always attuned to his children's needs, suggested, "Looks like someone's ready f’a meal. How about I feed her?"
Agreeing with a smile, you watched affectionately as Harry gently lifted Lexi from the stroller. With practised ease, he retrieved the pre-made bottle from the baby bag. Cradling Lexi in his arms, he began a tender dialogue, showering her with words of endearment.
"Y’know, Love bug, y’the most perfect baby in the world. Mom and I are so lucky t’have you," he whispered, his words infused with a genuine warmth that mirrored the love you both felt for your little one.
As Harry spoke to Lexi, your gaze shifted to Kai, who was deeply immersed in coloring his book. His tiny fingers danced across the paper, creating vibrant strokes that mirrored the lively atmosphere of the Caribbean surroundings. The restaurant transformed into a canvas of family moments — the quiet focus of an older brother, the nurturing presence of a father, and the unspoken connection between mother and daughter.
Amidst the lively ambiance of the restaurant, you couldn't help but notice a group of girls at a nearby table who seemed to have recognized your husband. Whispers and excited glances were exchanged among them, and you could see them mustering the courage to approach him for a photo.
Sensing their intentions, you leaned in to Harry and discreetly warned him about the approaching fangirls.
Harry, with a resigned sigh, glanced over his shoulder and nodded.
"Just ignore ‘em, love. It happens," he reassured you, his eyes reflecting the weariness of a man accustomed to such encounters.
The prospect of being in the spotlight, even during a family dinner, was not a new experience for him. Grateful that your kids were facing away, oblivious to the attention, you both focused on enjoying the moment together as a family.
As the girls behind you worked up the courage to approach, you and Harry engaged in casual conversation, attempting to divert attention from the brewing fan encounter.
"Remember that time in Paris?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Harry chuckled, because he knew exactly what you were talking about.
"Good times," he agreed, sharing a smile with you, appreciating the effort to shield your family from the attention that occasionally came with his public persona.
“H, there definitely coming.”
Harry, glancing over his shoulder, nodded in acknowledgment.
"Yeah, I see them. Just give them a friendly smile if they approach, and I'll handle it. S’not let it bother us," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.
He was no stranger to such encounters, having navigated the challenges of fame before. The weariness in his eyes reflected a desire for a quiet family dinner undisturbed by fan interactions.
The restaurant buzzed with activity as the group of excited fans approached your table.
"Harry, we're such huge fans! Can we get a quick photo and an autograph?" one of them eagerly requested, holding out a notepad and a pen.
With a gracious smile, Harry acknowledged their enthusiasm.
"M’grateful f’your support, but at the moment, we're trying to have a quiet family dinner, so I won't be able to do autographs right now," he gently explained, a polite refusal delivered with a sense of understanding.
Despite his explanation, the fans persisted, urging for both a photo and an autograph. The atmosphere at the table shifted as Lexi, nestled in Harry's lap, started to express her unease with a few whimpers.
Sensing his sister's discomfort, Kai moved closer to your side, seeking comfort in the familiar presence of family. Harry, noticing the subtle disruption, addressed the fans with empathy.
The fans, eager to capture a moment with their idol, continued to press for both a photo and an autograph. Harry, maintaining his composure, gently reiterated, "I really appreciate y’support, but right now, We're just trying t’enjoy a family dinner without any interruptions."
The fans, realizing the impact on the children, paused for a moment. Harry, sensing the need to reinforce the boundary, continued,
"Thanks for understanding." His words were delivered with a blend of gratitude and a protective instinct for his family.
As the fans reluctantly stepped back, a mix of disappointment and understanding painted their expressions. Your family returned to the rhythm of your evening, attempting to reclaim the sense of tranquillity that had been momentarily disrupted. Lexi, still cradled in Harry's arms, gradually settled, comforted by the familiar presence of her parents and brother.
Harry, with a reassuring smile, turned his attention back to the dinner table.
"Sorry about that, m’love," he whispered to you, the gentle apology carrying the weight of the delicate balancing act that came with his fame.
"It's alright," you responded, understanding the complexities of navigating public and private moments.
Kai, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, looked up from his colouring book with a curious expression.
"Why did those people want pictures, Mommy?" he asked, his innocent curiosity breaking the momentary tension.
You looked down to his eye level, offering a simple yet honest explanation, "Sometimes, people recognize Daddy from his work, and they want to say hello or take a picture because they really like what he does."
Harry, appreciating your delicate handling of the situation, chimed in,
"That's right, buddy. Daddy's work makes people happy, and sometimes they just want to share that happiness with us."
Sensing his sons discomfort, Harry gently ushered him over, placing him on the other side of his lap.
"Hey, Kai, come here, sweet boy," Harry said softly, creating a protective space for him. As Kai nestled in closer,
Harry continued, "I want you t’know that no matter what happens, Daddy will always keep you safe. Those moments might be a bit strange, but we're a team, okay?"
Kai, his big brown eyes searching for reassurance, nodded in understanding. "
Team," he echoed, a small smile breaking through the remnants of unease.
Harry wrapped his arm around Kai, holding him close to his chest.
"Exactly, little man. We're a team, and nothing will ever change that," Harry affirmed, his voice a soothing melody of love and comfort.
#musicforastylesrestaurant#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles au#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fake ig#harry styles headcanon#harry styles x oc#harrystylesdrabble#harry styles fake social media#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harrystylesxreader#harry styles one shot#harry styles x yn#harry’s house#harrystylesxyn#dad!harry#anon <3#dadrry
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Playing House (Joel Miller X Reader)
Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com
Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah.
Summary: Zoo date with Joel and baby Sarah ended up in agreement to play house? What more could you ask for?
Words count: 1.7k
A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 3 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm beyond happy that many of you liked it so I hope you enjoy the next parts. Stay tuned and love you!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20
It had already been a month since you babysat Sarah and you got closer to Joel. You spent almost every dinner with him. You even spent your weekends with him and baby Sarah. Joel and you probably even attached to each other at this point.
“We’re going to the zoo, yayy!!” You extended your hand to the back seat hyping up Sarah who was sitting in the baby car seat.
“You excited, babygirl?” Joel turned his head to look at Sarah before he drove.
*Sarah giggled*
“She’s definitely excited.” You laughed and looked at Joel.
“Seatbelt?” Joel reminded you.
“Right.” You grabbed the seatbelt and wore it.
“Okay. Done.” You told Joel.
“Alright. Let’s go.” Joel put his hands on the steering wheel and drove to the zoo.
At the zoo
“There’s so many people here.” You said as you cradled Sarah on your chest while waiting for Joel who was setting up the baby stroller.
“Maybe because it's the weekend?” Joel shrugged.
“Yeah.” You nodded and looked around.
“Ready?” Joel asked as he put the baby bag on his shoulder and held the baby stroller.
“She’s sleeping? Want to put her here?” Joel offered to put Sarah in the stroller.
“I’ll hold her for a while.”
Joel went to buy the tickets while you sat on the bench with Sarah. She slept so soundly so you decided to put her in the stroller.
“You got it?” You stood up as Joel was walking towards you.
“Yep.” Joel pushed the baby stroller and walked to the entrance with you.
It had been a while since the last time you went to the zoo so you got excited. You remembered when you were a kid you went to the zoo with your parents almost every month. You loved animals so you always asked your dad to bring you to the zoo.
“I missed this feeling.”
“Going to the zoo?” Joel raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I used to go to the zoo every month with my family.” You chuckled.
“Glad I asked you to come.” Joel smiled.
“Thanks, Joel. I feel like a kid again.” You stroked his muscly upper arm.
“You’re welcome.”
*Baby Sarah babbled*
“Someone is awake.” You walked forward and crouched to see Sarah.
Joel stopped and crouched beside you.
“Hey, babygirl. You want to see around?” He caressed Sarah’s cheek with his index finger.
*Sarah giggled*
Joel lifted Sarah from the stroller and carried her with one arm while the other arm pushed the stroller.
“Give me the bag. I’ll carry it.” You wanted to help.
“No, no. It’s heavy.” Joel refused.
“Why don’t we put it in the stroller?” You suggested.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” You took the bag from Joel’s shoulder and put it in the empty stroller.
*Saw a lion*
“There! Look sweetie, it’s a lion.” You pointed at the lion. Joel turned Sarah so she could see.
“Roaarr..” You roared and made a claw gesture to Sarah.
She just stared at you confused.
“She has no idea what you’re doin’.” Joel laughed.
“Yep. She didn’t even flinch.” You laughed.
“We should bring her back here again when she’s bigger. I’m sure she won’t remember today.” Joel added.
Joel froze for a second. He thought to himself, “I did not just say that.”. He was embarrassed with the words he just said. Did he just ask you to come to the zoo with him and Sarah a few years in the future? Did he just include you in his future? He was flustered but he had to act cool.
“Yes, she’s too small to remember. But she looks happy now.” You stroked Sarah’s head who was resting on Joel’s chest.
“I haven’t seen monkeys. Where’s the monkeys?” Joel tried to change the topic.
“Wait. Let’s see the map.” You looked at the map and found where the monkeys were.
“Here.” You pointed at the location and guided the way.
You and Joel walked around the zoo and enjoyed the moment. You introduced various animals to baby Sarah even though you know she didn’t understand and she wouldn’t remember it. But it was fun and important to interact with the baby so you did it anyway. Joel also interacted with Sarah, he made animals sound to her and you laughed at him.
The day at the zoo was really fun. And you couldn’t stop thinking about what the waitress from the Mexican place said. She said that the three of you looked really cute as a family and even said you two made a beautiful baby?! You actually got butterflies when you heard that. You had always liked playing house when you were a kid so you enjoyed this moment with Joel and baby Sarah. You felt like you were spending your weekend with your family with a husband and a baby daughter. It felt real and you liked it. You wondered what other people thought when they saw the three of you. Did they see you and Joel as a married couple with a baby? The thought itself made you giggle but you tried your best to hide it. For a moment, you forgot that you weren’t ready to commit to a relationship.
“Do you want to sit for a while and get somethin’ to eat?” Joel pointed to an empty seat and table.
“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry.” You put your hand to your stomach.
“Sit here.” Joel dragged the chair for you to sit.
You moved the baby bag from the stroller and Joel put Sarah in the stroller.
“Hot dog?” Joel asked.
“Yeah, anything.” You nodded.
“Okay, wait here.” Joel nodded and walked away to buy hot dogs.
While waiting for Joel, you pushed the stroller back and forth so Sarah could sleep.
“Here.” Joel passed you the hot dog.
“Thank you.” You grab a bite to the hot dog.
Joel and you talked as you ate. Joel suggested that you sit for a while and rest.
“Joel..”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember the last time we met my ex that morning months ago? I haven’t talked to you about it..I-uh-I’m sorry I let him believe we were married. I just-I just want him to believe I’m happy without him. I mean I am happy. I’m sure you heard me that day. Well, long story short, he cheated on me. So I hate him so much.” You rolled your eyes as you tried to open up to him.
“I totally understand. You don’t have to apologize. He’s a jerk. Let him believe we’re married, I’m your husband, that’s okay, as long as I can help you.” Joel’s words touched your heart. How could a man be this sweet?
“Thank you, Joel.”
“I-uh-I also haven’t told you about Sarah’s mom.”
“Wait, I have a confession to make.” You stopped Joel.
“Confession?” Joel raised his eyebrows.
“I actually overheard you and Sarah’s mom on the night she left.” You confessed.
“Oh..Yeah so she left us. We had a shotgun wedding and she decided to leave 3 months after Sarah was born. Said we’re not meant to be together. Doesn’t want a baby and everythin’.” He sighed.
“You deserve better, Joel.” You put your hand on top of his.
“Thank you.” He smiled at you.
“You know what? Should we keep doing this?” You lightened up the mood.
“Do what?” Joel was confused.
“This. Us playing house.” You pointed at him and yourself back to back.
Joel raised his eyebrows, pouted his lips and nodded.
“Should we make a contract?” You joked.
“Contract? I don’t follow.” Joel rested his chin on his palm.
“You know. Like in movies where they make contracts for fake relationships and stuff.” You explained. Joel nodded as he listened to you trying to digest what you were saying.
“At least we could do it in front of our exes. You did that for me. I’ll do that for you too if you want me to.”
“That sounds fun.” Joel was interested in your proposal.
“So should we write a contract now?” Joel asked.
“No, no. I was just joking. How about just a verbal pact?” You laughed.
“Deal.” He stretched his hand to you to shake your hand.
“Alright, Mr. Miller. Deal.” You shook his hand.
*baby cries*
“Time to eat.” You laughed.
Joel took the baby bottle from the baby bag and put Sarah in his arms to feed her.
“You hungry, huh?” Joel looked at Sarah as he fed her.
After Joel fed her, he stood up and put Sarah facing away from him to help her burp.
“Can I do it?” You offered.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” You insisted.
Joel passed Sarah to you and you placed Sarah on your chest facing back. You supported her chin on your shoulder and gently patted her back. After one or two minutes, she let out a burp.
“Good girl.” You chuckled.
“Oh!” You suddenly felt damp on your shoulder.
You turned away to show your back to Joel.
“Is there something on my back?” You asked Joel.
“Uhm..Yes..” Joel didn’t know what to say.
“What is it?” You panicked.
“I think Sarah just dribbled some milk on you.” Joel rubbed his mouth.
“Uh-oh.” You put Sarah back to the stroller and tried to look at your back.
Joel quickly got some tissue and helped you wiped the milk on your shoulder and hair.
“Here. Why don’t you change into this?” He took off his outer flannel shirt and gave it to you. He was now wearing only a white shirt.
“Thank you.” You went to the restroom to change and went back to him and Sarah.
“It looks like I’m wearing a dress.” You chuckled.
“You look cute.” Joel praised you but his voice was so small.
He didn’t want you to hear him. You heard him anyway but you acted like you didn’t. In fact, you were blushing. You and Joel continued wandering around the zoo, joking and laughing until the zoo closed then you went home.
“Today was fun.” Joel said as he parked the car in the driveway.
“I had a great time. Thank you.” You reached his hand and gave a slight touch.
“She’s sleeping.” You whispered as you looked at baby Sarah in the back seat.
“We gotta keep quiet.” Joel whispered and chuckled.
“I’ll wash your shirt and give you back tomorrow?” You pinched the shirt.
“Don’t worry about that.”
You went home smelling Joel’s shirt and giggled. His woody, musky, masculine smell gives you comfort and you wished you could keep it. But you had to give it back so you gave it a last smell before you put it in your washing machine and got back to reality.
To be continued…
Taglist:
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#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller x you#the last of us imagine#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fluff#tlou fanfic#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfic#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal fanfic#fanfiction#fiction#romance#romcom
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But how could she voice this? Nobody else had made her request it explicitly, so she really wasn’t sure what to request. Any version of her saying it just sounds more and more pathetic, to speak the words aloud would be embarrassing.
“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?”
Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.”
Harry’s lips quirk into a tiny, halfway smile, and Y/N had seen that look enough to know some form of a taunt typically follows it, “Oh I see,” he began, lifting himself up onto her bed and crawling over her body to get to the side she offered, “Was this a ploy to get me into your bed? You could have just asked, Sweetheart, but I would have asked for dinner first.”
or
Y/N finds out a secret and Harry finds a rat
part 1
part 2
iii.
Y/N has never been so embarrassed.
The hike was her idea; granted, she’s not a big hiker to begin with, and she hardly believes the sneakers she wore were meant for more than casual ambling in a park — but she thought it could be fun. After being cooped up in her flat for a little over a week, she was desperate just to breathe in the fresh air and feel the sun on her skin. It was one thing to be locked away when the weather was bitter and uninhabitable, but it was finally getting warmer, and whispers of Spring were carried in the wind. An open window could only preclude her feelings of claustrophobia for so long before she needed to go outside.
Since Harry could typically get Thomas to agree to things she’d never thought he might agree to before, he was the one she asked. However, due to the recent attempted kidnapping, even he seemed reluctant to the proposal and Y/N had imagined her plans had fallen through before they’d even truly been constructed. At least she did until Harry sent her a message a little past midnight the following night, with a link that directed her to a trail’s website. Would this be okay? His message read, and Y/N grinned so hard her cheeks were sore as she replied with “Yes!” ten times.
Y/N is not one who would find joy in exerting herself but she was filled to the brim and gushing with an eagerness she hasn’t felt since being a child, the night before visiting a zoo. She did not for a second consider how sore she’d probably be, especially from the number of hills this trail included along the side of what wasn’t big enough to be a mountain but was certainly large enough to give the illusion. All she could focus on was the thought of the wind kissing her face and the sound of morning birds singing. Aching muscles be damned, she could just take a hot bath when they got back, and maybe she could persuade Harry to massage her feet if it was that bad.
By the time Y/N woke up Friday morning, Harry was already in her kitchen preparing breakfast but that was hardly shocking. It was her second time witnessing him outside of a pressed suit and she couldn’t say that she was disappointed; Harry looked awfully cute in his hiking clothes. A hoodie that swallowed him up, athletic shorts pulled over black leggings, and a pair of bright red shoes that she could not imagine him plucking out of a store. A beanie was nestled over his head, but he had a hair clip locked around the edge of it, almost like he had it on standby in case he got too warm.
He turned to face her, smiling warmly as he flipped a pancake, “I didn’t know if you had a water bottle, so I brought an extra one,” he greeted her, “And I bought some of those warm packs you activate by shaking in case it’s chillier than we anticipated.”
“We need to get a stroller for your kitties so they can come too,” Y/N told him, as she hiked herself up on the barstool beside the counter, Harry working on the side adjacent to her. She rested her face against her fist, watching him putter around putting together the meal. There was something imminently gratifying about putting a man to work in her kitchen while she swung her legs and waited patiently to be fed, so she reveled in that feeling while he answered.
“I actually do have a stroller,” he told her, “But since this is our first time, I thought it would be better to see the trail before bringing them.”
With a sigh, Y/N agreed. Harry has brought them over three times since the first and Y/N enjoyed every second of it – he’d explained to her that as long as she doesn’t mind, he’ll bring them over often. This way he gets to spend extra time with them while he’s working and Y/N gets her animal fill as they meander throughout her flat, making it their second home. He’s even left them there overnight once, when he would be returning the following morning but wasn’t necessarily going home (their schedules make no sense to her, not even a little, and she wondered when the hell they ever slept), and Y/N really liked that. She woke up to Gremlin at her feet and Goose nestled against her breast beneath the blankets (and if she hadn’t been so sure that moving would stir them both, she would have taken a picture to send to him).
They ate breakfast and Y/N pulled on an outfit she hoped would be multifunctional no matter what weather they would face or how much exerting herself would make her sweat. Even the walk to the parking garage lifts her with excitement, happy to finally be leaving the flat.
“You’re awful chipper,” Harry remarked, following close behind her, his fingers looped around his keys, “Normally for this early in the morning, you’ve grumbled about something by now.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course I’m chipper,” she walked around to the passenger seat of the car, “I’m free for a little while! You forget that I’m fucking stuck in there until someone breaks me out, while you can come and go as you see fit, really.” She smiled at the thought of the sun hitting her face, “It’s going to be so nice today too – I can’t wait.”
“Mm, it is going to be nice,” he agreed mildly, “I’ll keep you out for as long as I can, yeah? But I’m sure Thomas will be blowing my phone up.” He smiled gently, “Things are still. . .fresh.”
Y/N buckled herself in, brows dipped, “Hm? Did you guys not catch the guy? I thought you did and that’s the only reason I’m being uncaged.”
“We did,” Harry’s lips straightened out, a dubious glint flickered past his gaze before he snuffs it out, “For the most part.”
“For the most part?” She repeated with a small sigh – she wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions, she just wanted him to be straightforward.
Harry hummed, “Yes, they found the “mugger” – it was his son,” Y/N’s brows raised, “Both have been dealt with appropriately for now but of course, everyone is still concerned that this wasn’t just an isolated incident. Things are going to be. . .a little tighter lately, so I was surprised Thomas agreed to this in the first place, but I did push pretty hard.”
She smiled and nudged his shoulder, “That’s why I like you,” she told him, “Dunno’ what you’re doing to bewitch him but keep doing it, I like doing things.”
The day had started out so well; Y/N isn’t sure how Harry had found this trail but it was pretty. It started out as a gravel patch of parking lot with a big wooden sign that read Green Haven Trail in big, bold letters, and to the left of it, a small brick building housing a restroom. It had rained last night, so the air smelled of moist earth and morning dew, and it’s a scent that she believes she normally takes for granted. Right now she isn’t though – right now she feels it slip through her nares, down to her lungs. She was more than pleased that it isn’t humid or else each breath would feel wet, and her skin would feel sticky, and she thinks that would have made her sad. Her first time out of the flat in how long, only to be accosted by unpleasant weather? Surely, she’d just lock herself in her room at that point.
Most of the trail was paved but there were clear sections deeper in, where people had broken off from the designated path and wore down the grass and foliage to create a new route. If she couldn’t see where this off-path trail led, then she wouldn’t have suggested they go near it, but she could make out that it guided them to a mini waterfall from a creak. And after the rain, she knew it would be overflowing and beautiful, so she suggested they go toward it with the best pleading gaze she could give him (though it certainly wasn’t necessary – she believes Harry is a man of strong will typically, but if she asks him for something he typically gives in pretty easy).
For a moment he seemed hesitant but eventually agreed, so they went toward it, and Y/N marveled at the rocks, the surfaces altering from smooth to rough and jagged, how the water toppled over them dropping down into the large well of the creek. If the weather was just a little warmer she would suggest sticking her feet in but it was still a little too brisk for it. So she made a mental note of this place for mid-June when the hike would undoubtedly be miserable in the summer heat, but the best part of it would be sinking their feet into this well of cold water and kicking them as they cooled down and ate a snack. Y/N assumed she would be with Harry again because. . .well, she usually is with him, isn’t she?
They stayed there for a while for a short break, since they’d been walking for about thirty minutes uphill at that point. Y/N’s legs were already tired and she was in the middle of trying to find an excuse for them to turn around and start making their way back before she was really tired – but there was no need. No, why would she need a reason for them to turn around when she unwittingly gives them one?
They had to trek down a small hill to get within closer visual distance of the waterfall and search the creek with their gazes for any potential fish or tadpoles swimming around in the greenish water. Going downhill to get there, meant going uphill to return, and while it wasn’t steep there was a decent-sized slope. Several jutted pieces of stone and rock and root should have made it a relatively easy way back up. Yet somehow, when Y/N tries to balance the sole of her shoe against the curve of a rock, she loses her footing. Her body rocks face first into the dirt, and she knocks her knee against a stone and cuts up her palm from the tree root she’d been gripping onto. Before she could tumble all the way down to the creek, Harry placed his hands on her to keep her steady, one at her hip and the other between her shoulder blades, “Holy shit!” He cried out, his voice echoing in the empty woods, “Are you alright?”
So now, they definitely had to turn back, because Y/N had dirt smudged on her face, a few leaves in her hair (though Harry did pluck those out for her while they walked), her knee was sore, and her palm was cut up. Y/N doesn’t cry but she wants to, not just because her knee aches, or her hand throbs, or the dirt makes her face feel gross and grimy. All of that she could deal with well enough.
What she couldn’t deal with, was the fact that she fell in the first place, in front of Harry of all people. How embarrassing – god, she couldn’t stop thinking about it but she wanted to wipe it from her brain entirely and pretend it never happened. But Harry is Harry, there is no way that he would ever let this go without making a sly comment about it every now and then. Especially once she’s all patched up and he knew for sure she was okay.
She kept replaying the moment in her head: the squawky sound that left her mouth, how dumb she must have looked as she scrambled to stop herself only for Harry to be the one to halt her movement. He probably thought she looked like an idiot – no, she knows he did because why wouldn’t he? If it had happened to anyone but her, Y/N would have found some humor in it, and maybe she was just a bad person but there were compilations of people falling on the internet for a reason.
Under different circumstances, Y/N would avoid the bathroom at all costs because it seemed like a staff infection waiting to happen but she tried to get into this one, only to find it locked. So not only did she embarrass herself in front of Harry, she had to sit in the car for forty minutes, uncomfortable, her knee aching and her face dirty. At the realization, she felt like she really could cry then, but the only thing that stopped her was the potential for further embarrassment.
“It could have been worse,” Harry tried to soothe her once they were back in the car, “Had I not been there to save your life, you could be in the creek right now.”
“Shut up, or I’ll shove you in a creek,” she grumbled, brows furrowed at him, “Didn’t you promise to return me unscathed? This is coming out of your paycheck.” He only chuckles at her.
The drive home was uneventful, and so was the walk up to her flat. As soon as they get through the doors, Harry directs her to the bathroom and says he’d be in there in a moment with a first aid kit, and Y/N has no fight left to argue. She went in, avoided looking at her face, and plopped down right on the toilet seat, waiting patiently for him. Harry appeared, looking a little too cute out of his leggings, now only in shorts that rode up pretty high on his thigh. He’s got nice legs – Y/N’s been thinking about them often lately.
First, he tends to her palm, flipping it over and pouting at the sight of it, “Your poor hand,” he muttered sympathetically, caressing the flesh just below her thumb, “Does it hurt?”
Y/N is unsure if he’s mocking her with how sweet his voice was, but she doesn’t fuss over it – honestly, she kind of likes it, “Yeah, a little.” She replied and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“Poor thing,” he reached inside the kit, “We’ll get you sorted.”
After he cleaned it, then slathered it in the antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it up with gauze and a bandage, he got a washcloth wet. It took her a second to realize what he was about to do, until he was suddenly closer to her face than she expected, tenderly swiping away at the dirt smudged over her face. Y/N has trouble keeping her breathing even then.
This is the closest she and Harry had been since the night they kissed, and she couldn’t keep her brain from conjuring memories of it. Especially when his lips were looking particularly soft today, and slick from whatever chapstick he was using, almost like they were begging for another mouth to press against them. The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow and the pout of his mouth supplicates for her lips to trap it between them. To relive last week, how eagerly he’d kissed her, how his hands had slid to her waist, how he squeezed her –
Honestly, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was skilled at acting indifferent to things like this and she’s certain Harry didn’t notice it was dawdling within her thoughts because he would have brought it up – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. Every day, a few times a day, Y/N is suddenly accosted with a slew of images, all of which involve Harry's puckered mouth.
Because she’d like to do it again – she wanted to do it again, but there was no way to just ask for it, was there? Not without being weird about it. At least that night they had been drinking, and if they really wanted to they could blame it on liquid loosening prior inhibitions. If Y/N was asking for it completely sober, then there was no turning back from that – then it was something they had to talk about and that’s difficult. Not to mention, she shouldn’t be canoodling with her bodyguards anyway. The time with Niall was a one-off, and she’d never had the urge or desire to do it again (well, maybe once or twice, but that was neither here nor there) – but she wanted it again with Harry. Honestly, she thinks she wants more than just the kiss with Harry.
And they hadn’t even really discussed the first one yet! Why would they tack on a second kiss?
With Niall, it was much easier; she sucked him off, and he came in her mouth, they laughed about it and then tried to finish the movie they were watching before both of them promptly fell asleep. When they woke up there was no awkward tension lingering in the air, she swatted him with a pillow so that he would get off the couch and go with her to a new cookie place as he’d promised. Life settled back in as normal, Y/N barely remembered what his cum tasted like after eating an iced sugar cookie, and that was that.
But with Harry, the whole night persists in her memories. How he admitted to being jealous thinking about her with Niall, and how he wants to be her favorite guard. The taste of his tongue and the impression of his mouth pushed against hers. How he pressed his thumb into her chin and pulled her lips open wider for himself, how heady the feeling was, the caress of his fingers on her hips, her wrists, her jaw. Her cheeks warm when she thinks about crawling into his lap, how she felt him hard beneath her before he pulled away – before he stopped it from going any further.
Y/N couldn’t help but wonder just how far it would have gone had he not withdrawn from her.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Harry murmured, and only then does Y/N realize that she’d been staring directly at him as he still carefully wiped away the dirt, “I’m getting shy.”
Brows pinching toward each other, Y/N frowns at him, “You’re like three centimeters from my face, where the hell else am I supposed to look?” She praises herself for willing the words so quickly from her mouth, instead of floundering how she wanted to when she’d been caught gawking (Harry always teased her that she reverted to her extreme “brat-ish tendencies” once cornered and she continuously proved him right).
Harry has a knowing smile that Y/N wants to flick off his face like he could read her mind through each of her pores. He always kind of had that look on him though, that would suggest he knew what Y/N was thinking and feeling before maybe even she did. It annoyed her more than anything.
“You’re being rather rude to someone who saved a clumsy little thing like you from drowning in a creek.” He murmured, standing up from the spot he’d been kneeling before her and tossing the wet cloth into the sink with a wet slap. He holds one finger out to her, a silent command to stay put, and Y/N finds herself listening to him until he returns with a bottle of water. With that in one hand, he pulled open her medicine cabinet and retrieved the paracetamol, popping the cap open and shaking two into his palm, “You need to take these or your knee is going to be sore. Say ahhh,” he held them in his fingers, hovering them over her mouth.
She scoffed, “My knee is already sore. Give me that, you dick,” she clasps her hands around his, swiping the pills and pushing them past her lips before grabbing for the bottle of water.
“There you go,” he ignored her insult, “That’s a good girl – y’know, you’re a brat, but you listen well when you want to. Kind of like a fussy cat.”
A flush of warmth ran from her face, down her throat, and across her chest – the praise, no matter how backhanded, was still praise and Y/N felt her veins twinkle with it. Harry doesn’t seem to notice how it affects her, and if he does, then he is kind enough not to be a pest for once and keep it to himself. He held out his hand for her to take, helping her lift off the seat, “You aren’t limping, which is good, but we’ll still ice it. If you show up to your parent’s house with a bruised knee and scratched-up hand, I’m sure it wouldn’t be appreciated.”
The reminder makes her grimace – she’d almost forgotten about that. Adam was the first to tell her about it weeks and weeks ago, and then her father reminded her just last week, yet she let it slip her mind again. Willfully she lets it slip from her mind, neglecting the thought – it was always a little awkward meeting with everyone. When she was little, they would coo over her and how cute she was which she had enjoyed at the time, but she had long since passed the age of being cooed at because she was in a pretty dress. And when she was little, she could fuck off and play pretend somewhere with her cousins or by herself and nobody questioned anything because she was like 7 years old and barely knew how to divide numbers.
Y/N longs for the solace of being little and not needing to be socially present during family events; life was much easier when she could check out and nobody cared.
“Are you going with me?” Y/N inquired as she followed him out of the bathroom, tugging down the zipper of her jacket and wiggling it off her arms.
“Hm?”
“To the family thing,” she dropped the jacket in her hamper, leaving her in a sports bra but she thinks nothing of it while she waits for his response, “Were you the one going with me?”
Harry pauses, if only for a brief second, and Y/N sees a look she’s never seen before flicker through his face before he’s smiling again, “Aw, cute! You want me to be there with you?”
She did, for some reason, she felt like it would be better with him there. Adam and Niall always get pulled off at things like this, but Y/N felt like Harry might stay by her side for it. She had nothing to base this feeling on beyond just knowing it in her gut.
And when she doesn’t grumble or call him an asshole for teasing her, Harry must realize she’s serious, because the gleam in his eyes softens to one that is gentle and pitying, “It won’t be me accompanying you, though I would love to,” he told her, “I’m wanted elsewhere that day.”
She frowned at him, already feeling the whine bubble in her chest before he could finish his sentence, “Just tell them that you don’t want to do that and you want to do this instead.”
“As much as the princess’s word is considered –”
“Eat shit.”
“ – I believe that request would be denied. Thomas wants me for a more delicate and potentially violent matter, so that’s where I’ll be.” He sighed, thumbing over his eyebrow, “Though you do manage to be delicate and violent as well, maybe I could ask for a trade.”
Y/N flipped him off before plopping down on the couch, watching as he began to kick off his shoes at the doorway now that they were settling inside. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the reason Harry wasn’t going was more than him being needed elsewhere but she couldn’t come up with good enough logic to back the claim. Unless he was the Harry from her childhood, and he was desperately trying to avoid a situation where that fact may be found out, but even that doesn’t seem like his speed. He was much too casual and unconcerned for her to think he’d go to that level just to keep up some weird little secret.
That doesn’t mean she’s a hundred percent convinced, but she just dwells on it a little less.
“It’ll be okay, you know,” Harry says after a while, as he’s opening up her windows, pulling the curtains open to let sunlight pour into her room; it glitters off her coffee table and places a glare over her tv, and the sweet chirp of birds still singing early in the morning fills her flat (along with the sound of cars driving below them but the morning traffic had slowed considerably by that point), “Just a few hours of family shit, and then you’ll be done. Can come home and take a shower and relax afterward.” Y/N follows him around the room as he goes to her other window, “It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll even have a little fun.”
She doesn’t have it in her to fight him, “Yeah, maybe,” she offered quietly in return, leaning her head back and letting her eyes flutter closed, trying to ignore the throbbing in her knee, “It just feels weird to see them is all, and having nothing to show for the years that have passed since I’ve seen them last. Like. . .I dunno, I have to sit and listen to everyone else and their successes and I’m happy for them but I can’t help but. . .wish that I had something too. But all I’ve got is attempted kidnappings and a hobby that I haven’t perfected when I’ve got nothing but time to perfect it.” Y/N puffs a mirthless laugh.
“Self-depreciation doesn’t look good on you,” he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and he sounds closer than he was before but she keeps her eyes shut, “Why don’t you start selling your art?”
That does make her peek an eye at him, “Listen, I know I’m having a little pity party, but I don’t need you being mean and adding to it.”
“I’m not being mean,” he retrieved a package of frozen vegetables from her freezer before he made his way to sit down beside her, body turned so he faced her directly, “I’m giving you an idea. Your art is good, and all the comments people have made on it in class tell you how cute the things you draw are. So yeah, maybe they wouldn’t sell in some smarmy art gallery, but they would definitely make a cute sticker on a water bottle or a laptop case. And what’d you get your degree in, wasn’t it business related? Marketing?” Y/N’s face pinches up.
“So?”
“So put two and two together, Darling, you’re smart,” he told her, “You make cute stickers and you have some understanding of marketing – start selling them online!”
It. . .wasn’t the worst idea she’s ever heard. The people in the class had called her drawings cute, even the instructor had told her they were charming in a cutesy way. If other people liked them – if Harry really thought that other people would like them enough to stick them somewhere they had to look often – that would give her something to do, wouldn’t it? Something to focus on. . .something that could entirely be her own, and didn’t have to be a question of her safety, with no worry about getting her from point A to point B, and her name wouldn’t be out there. She could do it all under a different name! Loads of Etsy shops and the like don’t have the artist’s real name at all.
It could just be her own little thing, and if it didn’t work, she could scrap the idea and pretend it never happened. But it was something. . .it could be hers.
“Hm.” That is all she replied, despite the cogs clicking and turning in her brain.
Harry sighed, plopping down in the space beside her, “I reckon you just like being difficult,” he told her, stretching one long leg out so it was sitting beneath the table, “Hm? I think you like trying to rile me up.”
“Maybe.”
. . .
Y/N has been having nightmares.
As a child, she used to get them a lot. Sometimes they could be vivid; feel as real as a memory and Y/N would have trouble separating what was real and what was a dream. It was an unfortunate byproduct of a burdened subconscious, or at least that’s what the child psychologist told Thomas. And he then took a far more strict and tender approach to isolate her from the world of her parent’s work, which Y/N never really understood. Why wait until a child begins to show emotional distress before keeping them from something potentially emotionally distressing?
They come and go, depending on the current state and status of her life. Times of stress brought them prolonged and heavy, bogging down her brain like waterlogged branches in a typically dry terrain. A monsoon of shadowy figures, hushed low voices, and crimson puddles. Trying to close her eyes but they’re being held open, trying to move through dense air with gelatinous limbs, trying to scream but her voice just barely leaves her throat. It’s nothing but frustration bubbling to her boil through her veins in the worst way, and when she finally does wake up, it lingers for a few minutes as she acclimates to being conscious.
Once she has one, she’ll have them almost nightly until the problem is addressed or they eventually wither away. She doesn’t bring them up much – Niall and Adam know about them, but Thomas isn’t aware, though she doesn’t think he’d actually care. And she isn’t sure if her parents were even aware of her first round of them when they had concerned the nannies and guards enough to report them to Thomas. If they did know, they never brought it up.
So she guesses it made sense that nobody alerted Harry to their existence if they were to ever occur while he was there.
They had started happening two weeks ago, shortly after the attempted kidnapping. It was scary, though it didn’t get very far, knowing that someone could find her location so easily was worrisome for future endeavors. And had this guy been more tactful and maybe a touch more forceful, then the situation could have gone horrendously bad – she could have been in a lot of trouble, and when her mind starts wandering to what could have been waiting for her. . .it’s awful.
For the most part, they had been pretty tame. Y/N wakes up disoriented and groggy around 4 AM, she wanders out to the living room to find whoever was there that night, and if they were awake she’d make them both tea and stay up for a while. Niall was there the first night, and when she suddenly appeared in front of him with her hand stretched out, holding a mug to him, he gave her a knowing look, “Hm? Nightmare?” She nodded, and he made room for her on the couch, moving his computer, his iPad, or whatever he had brought over to keep himself busy for the night, “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, “Fine, then you’re g’na have to listen to me rant about this fucking series I’m watching because. . . .”
Adam asks fewer questions and most of the time is asleep when she wanders out but when her door clicks open he’s pulled from his sleep with a snort, “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Mm,” he would hum, “Go back to bed then, I’m not ready to socialize.”
“I’ll just be up for a little, you can stay asleep,” she’d assure him, but she didn’t want to be alone, so she would make her tea and then sit on her feather blue recliner (that she was surprised he isn’t inhabiting) with her phone. Adam would say he’d stay up with her but make no move to change his position, so he always ended up back to sleep anyway.
Bill and Martha were usually asleep too when she wandered out, but they were never ones for much conversation anyway. They would open their eyes, see she is in no imminent danger, then go right back to bed and that was that (nothing and nobody could make her feel more like a little kid than those two, and Thomas when she does see him). She would putter around her kitchen quietly, but take her tea into her room, wrapped up in her blankets and clicking through Youtube videos on her telly, comforted by the knowledge she isn’t alone in the flat.
Some days there is nobody there with her at night, maybe an extra guard lingering outside the building, but no one inhabits her living room. Those nights Y/N is suddenly confronted with the harsh reminder that she lives in a constant state of fear, gnawing at her lip, jumping at every creak or click that echoed against the walls. It makes her feel like an idiot so she doesn’t bring it up to anybody, that on a regular night being alone can be weird, but on a night she’s had a bad dream it could be weird and long. It was stupid and made her feel like a child.
Tonight, for whatever reason, the dream was a lot rougher than it had been. While the prior nightmares were more nondescript things and hazy situations that she could just tell were bad but did not have comprehensible images of – this was much more lucid. Every touch felt like a burn against her skin, the hand cupped over her mouth and squeezed her nose shut stealing her breath away, the heart racing panic struck her fast, and her fingertips felt numb. She was thrashing, her throat sore from screaming, she needed help – she needed it right then, but there was nobody there. She was alone, she’s always been alone, she’s never safe, never, never, never –
“Y/N!”
Her eyes split open, the beat of her heart pounding through her chest and ringing through her ears, and her trembling hands stay still at her sides. It took her a few silent, panicked moments before she realized she’d been woken up from a dream, staring at the figure who slowly, but surely, becomes Harry through her bleary gaze. Almost instantaneously relief floods through her, and icy spikes that dotted her vessels are now replaced with warmth, melting them. Y/N isn’t sure if the comfort is brought by the fact that she knows she’s awake so much as it is brought by seeing Harry – he usually showed up in her dream, and dream her was always reassured by his presence. His face usually meant whatever was plaguing her was finished – whatever shadowy, dark figure digging their nails into her arm dissipated.
It was not until Harry spoke her name again that Y/N finally realized she’d been dreaming but she was awake now. Her eyes burn and her cheeks are wet – she’d been crying? Her bones feel stiff and creaky as she pushes herself from the mattress, pressing her knuckles against her eyes to try and rub the sleep from them. “You were having a bad dream?” Harry’s voice is low, his tone gentle, like he was creeping up on a resting bear and was worried to startle it.
Y/N nodded wordlessly. The most he gets from her is a small hum as she tries to organize herself and her thoughts; she isn’t used to someone being here as she wakes up, staring at her warily, so she tries to force herself to speed it up. She didn’t want to worry him. And now that she thinks about it, when was the last time he’d spent the night here? He probably didn’t even know she had dreams like this to begin with.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry pressed carefully, and there was a small thud of four feet landing on the bed. She looked over to see Goose pad over to her, rubbing up against her torso and finding a spot in her lap before a low rumble of purrs overcame her.
“What time is it?” Y/N inquired.
Harry looks at his watch, “2 AM.”
“Too late to talk about it,” she murmured, though she still felt shaken up. Her hands tremble as she smoothes them down Goose’s back, searching for more comfort in the soft fur, a wobbly rise and fall of each breath from her chest, “Was I being loud?”
Harry gave her a small, empathetic smile, “Just a little,” he told her, “We could hear you,” it took her a second to realize we meant him and the cats, “And Goose was sitting outside of your door. At first I thought maybe you were awake, talking on the phone or something but you started yelling for help.”
Grimacing, she frowns, at the image of Harry clambering to get up and burst through her door, overwrought with worry and his adrenalin spiking. His job – the whole reason he is here – is to keep her safe. So how horrifying is it to hear that one objective may be compromised in the middle of the night, on a floor way too high for someone to have snuck through a window? “I’m sorry, that was – that’s probably scary.”
“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t my favorite experience,” he agreed, “But I’m glad I could wake you up from it.” She scratched between Goose’s ears, feeling warm that the cat was concerned enough to sit outside her door once she heard her. She’s sure Gremlin is still blissfully sleeping wherever he was originally. “Well, I’ll let you go back to sleep. Call me if you need anything.”
Y/N had thought that she was feeling better – she was awake, and she knew she was awake, so there was no reason for the same rimy panic that had been suffocating her to return at the mention of Harry leaving. Nor was there a reason for her to reach out and grab his wrist before he could get too far, a pitiful refusal pulled from her lips that feel sore and dry, she’s sure from her own teeth. Harry was safe – he couldn’t leave this soon after she’d woken up, she still needed a little bit – still wanted to be near him, and to hear him talk or even just sit silently at his side.
But how could she voice this? Nobody else had made her request it explicitly, so she really wasn’t sure what to request. Any version of her saying it just sounds more and more pathetic, to speak the words aloud would be embarrassing.
“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?”
Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.”
Harry’s lips quirk into a tiny, halfway smile, and Y/N had seen that look enough to know some form of a taunt typically follows it, “Oh I see,” he began, lifting himself up onto her bed and crawling over her body to get to the side she offered, “Was this a ploy to get me into your bed? You could have just asked, Sweetheart, but I would have asked for dinner first.”
“Fuck off,” she grumbled, but it held little spite to it. Y/N wiggles back down beneath her covers, and Goose – disturbed but never grouchy – walks to the side, waits for Y/N to find a position she’s content in, and then returns. Y/N lays on her side so Goose tucks herself along her belly as she likes to, curling her face into her paws. Gremlin, who must have finally roused from his own blissful slumber, appeared on the bed at Harry’s feet before taking a seat, his tail undulating behind himself, waiting patiently for Harry to snuggle beneath the blankets.
“Had I known you slept on a cloud every night, I would have asked for this sooner,” Harry said quietly, breaking through the silence of the room, only previously broken by the whirring of her fan above them, “It smells good in here too.”
Y/N watches him closely, as his head is against her pillow. Nobody else has ever laid in her bed before, and Y/N only ever sleeps on the left side of it, so she’s sure the right feels just as it did when she bought it. It’s weird to see someone there – but it only feels natural that it would be Harry, for whatever reason. Among the cotton, rosy pink duvet cover, in a long sleeve undershirt, his body having disappeared up to his shoulders snuggled beneath the comforter. He looks cute, especially when he turns to face her, and gives her a big closed-mouth smile that she told him in the past made him look like a pleased frog.
“You’re comfortable?” Y/N inquired and once Harry nodded, she finally closed her eyes again, “That’s good.”
Some time passes. Y/N is unsure how long, but she’s almost certain that she’s fallen asleep until Harry's voice, syrupy and smooth as it always is, slithers into her ear, “I know you don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine,” he murmured, “But I just want you to know, I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Never.” .
She falls asleep easily then.
. . .
Y/N used to have nightmares when she was younger, Harry had vague memories of that.
“I had a nightmare that a bad guy tried to kill me again,” she told him casually one day when they were on the swings, like it was the most normal conversation in the world, “It really sucked. They were super mean.”
“Did you get away?” Harry remembered being concerned, even as a child. Y/N was younger than him, not by much, but enough that he’d felt a sense of responsibility for her. Harry hated his bad dreams, so he empathized with her plight. Whenever he had a bad dream, his mum usually came into his room and comforted him, but Y/N told him once that her mum didn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night for something not urgent. If she had a bad dream and woke up scared but the sun wasn’t out, she would hug her teddy tight and will herself back to sleep – that’s what she had told him, at least.
With a shrug of her small shoulders, she kicked her legs back and forth in smooth glides, “Dunno’, I woke up before he could.”
He was concerned then and he was concerned now.
When Y/N offered him the spot next to her, Harry didn’t hesitate for even a moment. If she was scared enough to stuff away that prideful, bratty side of her to request it, then Harry wouldn’t make her second guess herself. Instead, he tried to make it as normal as possible, with a small tease as he crawled in beside her. He’d resigned himself to the idea of staying awake until he knew for sure she was fast asleep. It took ten minutes or so, but eventually, her measured, even breaths and sleepy sighs lull him into his own slumber.
Harry wakes two or three hours later, warm. Warmer than he had been when he fell asleep, which he wouldn’t have questioned if not for how icy cold Y/N typically kept her room. For a brief moment, he thinks that maybe her fan shut off and he made the conscious decision to get up and turn it back on for her, but when he moves, he feels a weight on his arm that stopped him. A weight that is different from that of Goose or Gremlin.
Once he opened his eyes, Harry found that Y/N was snuggled up against him.
It wasn’t in a sweet, movie-like way as things like this typically went in stories and movies. It was in a very Y/N-like way though – her left leg thrown across his hip, her body flush against him, her face halfway jammed in his chest and her arm stretched over his neck; she’s about one sleepy shuffle away from smothering him with her bicep if she moved just right. Harry thinks it’s very telling that she does not sleep with someone often because she had somehow rolled herself all the way over to his side when there had been a good distance between them to start.
Carefully, he began to reshape her, moving her arm from over his throat. Harry had been making a conscious effort to be gentle so she stayed asleep, but a small grumble lifted into the air around them that sounds close to “Stop it.” but when Harry says her name, there is no response. Instead, she wiggles her shoulders, her arm finding a place around his waist instead, and scooted closer.
Tch, he rolled his eyes but he could feel a fond smile pulling at his cheeks, She’s even a brat in her sleep.
Harry lets himself enjoy it for a little while. The warmth of Y/N pressed to his side, the peach-scented lotion still permeating from her skin, the feel of each rise and fall from her chest as she took a breath. His insides feel cotton-soft and melty, he traces circles in the center of her back and waits patiently for her to fall deeper into her head. Once she does, he tries again to carefully remove her from the glued position she’d been in, because while he likes being cuddled close to her, he knew she would be mortified if she woke up.
This time she goes easily, letting him lie her arm at her side before sliding his hand beneath her thigh, attentively guiding it off of his hip. Y/N stretches, and turned away from him, her arms sliding around a pillow and hugging her face against it. What a cuddly little thing, Harry thinks, she’s probably searching for something (or someone) to put her arms around the whole night. It makes his heart twist in his chest, a weird mix between an ache and a yearning for her. He wondered if these bad dreams would disappear if she always had someone there to cuddle to her body, like an oversized stuffy.
The idea of it has a pout forming on his lips. Y/N, in the time he’s known her, is driven heavily by physical affection that she is not receiving often. She may grouse when Adam touches her shoulder when he reaches over her head to get in the cabinet, but she leans into his hand. If Niall is around, chances are Y/N is touching him in some way, either with her legs across his lap, or their hips side by side (which. . .Harry has no right to feel an ugly twinge in his chest any time he sees it but that doesn’t stop it from happening). Martha wasn’t the soft type, but Harry had walked in on Y/N leaning against the pillow Martha held to her body while they watched the telly. When Harry had come to her room in a panic, just to see for himself that she was okay (after Otto’s botched kidnapping attempt), she melted against his knuckles that he couldn’t help but stroke against her cheeks.
Harry had met her parents several times – they were. . .kind as they could be, with what they do, but they were not the nurturing type. They were cool and distant, and even though Harry knows they love their daughter, and talk sweetly, they just didn’t seem like the type to cuddle and coddle. And instead of growing an aversion to touch, she grew too long for it, even in small doses, even from her bodyguards. Where else could she get it? Harry is certain if she went out with her friends she would be touchy and clingy, flopped over them in some way, shape, or form.
Gremlin moves relatively little with the change in positions, and Goose lets out an annoyed huff before following Y/N’s body, snuggling up against her back. It was almost disgustingly cute how much Goose enjoyed her girl time with Y/N; even though she was the less fickle of the two, she really didn’t warm up that easily to people but with Y/N, it only took a couple of days before she was sleeping in her lap. Harry thinks that not only are cats a good judge of character, but they seek out people who need healing, like little furry psychotherapists that say nothing but do plenty. Where he would normally be a bit jealous, he was glad that Goose had chosen Y/N to snuggle with and love on her.
Harry sighs to himself. It’s only a matter of time before Y/N realizes that she’s been right all along about knowing him, he was just holding his breath and waiting for it. In his head, when he’d started this, the idea of keeping it all a secret from her seemed easier. There would be no need to go into the details of why he left, to relive any of it, to divulge what he had done, or to break his promise to Thomas, to his father, to her father. He could go on with her like they were two strangers and his past didn’t matter. And Harry doesn’t know why it is so important to him that she didn’t think the sweet boy he was turned into the man he is today; it felt as though it broke the mirage of normalcy his childhood had there for a little while. If the image Y/N held in her head of him was altered, it would pull at his stomach and tug around his heart. The boy she knew was good, not a drop of blood on his hands – the man she knew now had hands covered in the murk and filth of gang politics, rivalries and wars, drugs and guns.
To keep the two mutually exclusive brought him more comfort.
But Y/N is perceptive and she recognized him almost immediately. As smart as she was, and as sneaky as she could be, he had a feeling deep in his gut that she would be seeking answers at her parent’s house. It would be easier if Harry wasn’t there too, so she wouldn’t have to sneak around him to do it. And if she finds out. . .well, Harry has accepted that it might happen and he could only hope that she isn’t too angry with him. In the grand scheme, it has changed very little of their dynamic. Harry is a completely different person than he was when he left this place – when he left her.
His biggest regret, looking back at it, was leaving her alone. Even before this title, when they were just kids playing, he always kind of felt like her unofficial bodyguard. Or even just a companion for her – she didn’t have many other friends, and for whatever reason, both of their parents (or more so his parents and Thomas) thought it was a fine idea to just have them play with one another. Harry thinks it would have been a one-time thing when his father was first getting heavily involved with them, however from what he had heard at the time, Y/N had requested him.
Or maybe requested was a strong word. He supposes the better way of phrasing it was when Harry's father told him that the little friend he made the week prior asked, “Where is Harry? Is he coming to play?” Which was a request enough for Thomas to invite him to a park that day. They saw each other pretty much weekly after that, depending on what was happening or the state of affairs the organization was in. Actually, Harry doesn’t even think Y/N remembers that much – he had a slightly bigger involvement in her life than he thinks she realizes. But when he speaks to Y/N about her childhood (or more, when she brings up a random anecdote), he finds that she doesn’t recall quite a few things about it. Like her brain had packed it away in storage boxes and stuffed it up in the attic – he’d once read that memory loss was an intrinsic, almost instinctual survival skill. Anything she deemed emotionally traumatic, she may have just conveniently booted from her head, and that. . .well, that might have been most of her years as a kid.
If he knows anything about her, he knew that she would be upset with him initially but he could only hope she moved past it. Harry would have loved to go with her to her family event, even if she found out with him there, then they could at least discuss it immediately or on the car ride home instead of her stewing over it. But Thomas and Garrison had pulled him aside for different matters – the ones he had described as much more violent than a dinner with a ton of members in a gang, surprisingly.
There might be a mole. That’s what Garrison had told him privately, that he didn’t trust Otto was in this alone; that nobody just knows where Y/N’s location is, barely anyone knows where she lives and this was an outlet mall 40-ish minutes away. It was just too convenient that Otto would know where she was without there being someone to tell him or some way of knowing. So everyone was under a microscope: Adam, Niall, Martha, Bill, and even some of the new people – Kai, Charlie, Betty, Rebecca. Harry understood why all of these people were on the list, but –
“Why not me?” He inquired, brows dipped, “I appreciate that I’m not, but I don’t understand why exactly.”
“You’ve been around since she was a kid,” he’d reminded Harry like he didn’t know, “There will always be a little more trust between us with you than the others. We know you wouldn’t let anything happen to her and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your family.”
So while Y/N was with her family, he would be preoccupied snooping in places he probably doesn’t belong. It feels wrong to spy on the other bodyguards like this, and even the newbies; he feels guilt trickle through his chest when he is flicking through files of them. But he knew it had to be done. . .that Y/N’s safety was the top priority, even if it meant potentially betraying the trust of his colleagues.
He’s worried about what he might find. He’s worried about how Y/N would react if it was anyone close to her.
Worry soaks his brain, weighs it heavy, and drags his eyelids closed so he would stop watching the back of her sleeping head. He needed to sleep – maybe he should have kept her tucked against his side, cozy and warm because he’s sure he could have fallen right back to sleep then. He already knew he would spend at least ten more minutes contemplating what the next few weeks could bring them. The last time he’d had a little bit of trouble falling back asleep in her flat was after they kissed.
That kiss. . .Harry’s cheeks feel hot thinking about it. He could still feel her against his mouth if he focused hard enough; the taste of her tongue, how soft her lips were, the way she felt in his lap. He could also remember how embarrassing he’d been coming into her room saying he was jealous, which is the only part of the night he wants to forget. They probably needed to talk about it – when he’s speaking, and Y/N’s staring at his mouth, he feels like he should bring it up, but the words always stick to the back of his throat like honey.
It was inappropriate, Harry shouldn’t have agreed to do it but Y/N was so cute asking him and he’s human, after all. She wanted to kiss and Harry loved kisses and how could he deny her of such a simple pleasure in life? Especially when she said she didn’t get to do it often? It would have been criminal for him to refuse her! And Harry may participate heavily in unlawful, corrupt things, but he was no bloody monster – his job (in part) was to make Y/N happy, and if a kiss was what did that then so be it.
(At least this is what he convinces himself.)
Thinking about it either does two things for him: makes him hard, or gives him soft, twinkling feelings in his stomach. Thankfully, tonight it was the latter, so he revels in the sentiment and finds himself drowsy once again (he’d worked himself up enough that he felt wide awake which would not do – they still had a few hours to sleep and he wanted to make use of it). There is comfort in knowing that if Y/N starts to have her nightmares again, he’s right beside her – he wondered if he’d ever be able to be at her flat without wanting to be next to her.
What he said before she fell asleep, he meant – he wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt her, and that includes a shitty dream.
. . .
The gathering comes quicker than Y/N would have liked, but she figured it was better than the worry of it lingering like a gloomy cloud over her. Y/N had woken up that morning with a sort of weird relief tied into her anxiety; a premature peace was brought on by the fact the day was here and she was one step closer to getting it over with. No matter how unpleasant she would find it, most of these people were family, and if not family, then held a deep-seated, often fear-induced respect for her parents. It wasn’t like anyone would be blatantly mean to her or quiz her too hard on what she was doing, why she was doing it, where she was doing it, because. . .well, wouldn’t that make them look a touch suspicious? These sorts of questions would only be acceptable from her grandparents and that’s if they could talk about something other than how hard it is to use the bathroom the older they get.
Y/N kept reminding herself of this in the hours leading up to the party and it made her feel much better. They were doing this because her grandparents were coming in from Dublin, where they had settled after passing the torch to her parents (neither was from Ireland, but both were drawn to the lush green hills and a seemingly endless supply of Guinness which is all they could wish for in their old age). Everyone would be much more intrigued by them than they would be by her – she felt silly for getting so worked up over going. Was it not a little self-absorbed to think everyone would want to know what she was doing? Who gave a shit about what was going on with her besides a handful of other people?
She had told this line of thinking to Niall who would be accompanying her to the party. “That’s awfully pessimistic but if that’s what makes you feel better then yeah, they’ll probably be focused on what your grandparents are chatting about. They’ve got some brutal fucking stories, but your Nan is so cute, you don’t expect her to be telling them.”
It’s true; her Nan wears bright-colored cardigans and keeps her hair styled neatly in feather white curls. She knits, sews, and bakes cookies. When she was in town while Y/N was a child, she would take her (bodyguard-less, because “If something goes wrong, I’ll take care of it,”) to feed ducks in the park, or to pick out yarn for a blanket. Very normal, Nan-like things, so you really wouldn’t have guessed that she used to shoot people’s feet if they betrayed the family.
The weather was much warmer today so Y/N wore a dress – her mum and Nan liked her in dresses, and though Y/N had a love-hate relationship with the garment, she’d like to make them both happy. A light blue, patchwork material that came just above her knees, with loose puffy short sleeves and a square neckline. Niall gave her a mocking gasp when she walked out in it, “I was half expecting to see you in sweats and a tank top, I never see you all dressed up.”
“Because I’ve been on house arrest, dick,” she retorted, pulling her socks over her feet.
With a snort, he pulled his phone out, “Harry’s g’na be so fucking jealous he didn’t see you in a dress.”
“Huh?” Y/N slid her left foot into her shoe (the mary jane like shoe but was lacking the buckle that really made it a mary jane), “Why would he care?”
“Because you look cute and he’s a sucker for you looking cute,” Niall says it like it’s obvious, confusion reworking his face into a confused frown, “He coos over like every cute thing you do.”
“He’s just teasing.”
A scoff leaves him, “Whatever you say – now smile for the camera.”
Y/N smiled nice, big, and pretty, her head tilted dramatically and her middle finger stuck out toward him. It is the opposite of a deterrent for the blonde, who chortles as he takes rapid-fire pictures from varying angles, muttering something about, “See how you like it when this one goes to your Nan.” After the pictures are taken, she stands and smacks his arm lightheartedly. She wondered if Niall had actually sent it to Harry and her suspicions were confirmed just as soon as they got in the car to leave.
I can’t believe you’ve had such a cute dress and never told me or Goose, you know how much she loves dresses. She’s going to be so hurt.
The memory of Goose rolling around in a few of her dresses (and other various items of clothing but mostly her dresses) when Y/N was going through her closet (in a fit of pure boredom), plants itself into her brain. It makes her smile, even though she knew she’d be removing remnants of tortoiseshell fur off the fabric; she just wanted to scent her and all of her things. Harry told her Goose was in the midst of trying to adopt her but the paperwork is hard for a cat so it’d been taking some time.
Rolling her eyes, she let her thumbs dart around the keyboard.
Don’t use the cat as an excuse, pervert
The drive isn’t as awful and damning as she thought it might feel; it’s about 30 or so minutes out from where she stays depending on what traffic is like and Niall is on some soapbox about a drama he’s currently watching. She watches as the cityscape changes to suburbia, and from suburbia closer to the countryside. Not the house on stilts beside a river and a boat beside the car countryside, but the smarmy, affluent kind – where it wasn’t really countryside, but there were acres upon acres of land to own. The trees they pass are a blur of brown branches speckling with green as they shift to Spring, and bushes that never lost their green, to begin with.
Anxiety still bubbles in her belly but more from the prospect of seeing people she hasn’t seen in a while, than it was from being worried they’d ask how she was doing. Because she realized she could A. Always lie, and B. Harry did give her a good idea the other week about opening some form of online shop. She’d started laying the groundwork for it down, so she could at the very least talk out of her ass about what she was doing. That was if anybody asked – she wouldn’t just bring it up on her own.
Y/N finds that she just needs to tap into that part of herself she uses with her friends when she is able to go out with them. The part of her that completely erases any possibility that she has a life outside of what they were doing at that moment; narrowly avoiding questions that probe too deeply into her day-to-day, steering the conversations toward the person she was talking to and their life. Everyone likes to talk about themselves if you show you’re willing to listen, Y/N found that out relatively quickly.
Her parents’ house, much like them, is gaudy and extravagant and too big. It’s a pretty place, but she just doesn’t necessarily see the need for columns lining the stairs leading up to the house, or the large brass lion knocker on the front door. The chandelier in the foyer when you first enter is about a thousand crystals that cast glittering shadows along the slate grey walls. From the foyer, directly in front of the door is a bifurcated staircase, and beneath either set of stairs splitting off from the main row, there was an entryway to the kitchen and a sitting area, both just on the side of too big. She could already see people moving around in the kitchen and could tell that most people were in the backyard where the majority of this would be taking place.
This wasn’t the house she grew up in so there was no personal attachment to the walls, the floors, or the doorways. She doesn’t stop to linger around a spot on the wall she remembered being measured against when she was little, nor does she see little mirages of a small her running around the halls in a moment of nostalgia. Y/N walks through the foyer, her shoes clicking against the hardwood as she makes her way to the backyard.
There were a lot of people to greet and she was feeling overwhelmed, but nobody noticed (nor seemed to care) about her arrival. It made it easy to slink around, seeking out her grandma who she knew would be sitting beneath one of the tarps they had set up shielding away the blinding son. She was in the middle of speaking to a group of people, so Y/N was going to stand and wait patiently off to the side, but her eyes flickered over, a smile broke out over her face, and she waved her closer, “Is that who I think it is?” Y/N lowered to hug her, “God, you’re looking like an adult! Where the hell is your grandfather, someone call the lazy sod over.”
It was easy with her like it always was. Y/N spoke to her for a while, and hugged her granddad when he made his way over, (“Is your hair longer? Looks longer – you know, your mother had long hair when she first met your dad, like down to her bum, it was ridiculous! We used to beg her to get it cut, we thought it’d get trapped in a door.”). She spoke to them both briefly, and they told her they wanted to plan a trip where she came to Ireland for a visit, and she agreed immediately. Her Nan cooed and doted over her for a moment, pinching her cheek and murmuring something about her needing to sleep more, “I can tell you’re tired, you get that same look your dad gets. Why aren’t you sleeping? Is your mattress comfortable?”
Y/N thinks, if her life was slightly different, these questions might annoy her but she revels in them. No matter how old you get, it’s nice to have someone worry over you a bit; to not see Y/N often but to know when she looks tired, to want to know why she isn’t sleeping, to wonder if it is her mattress. This is the kind of normal worry, about her sleeping habits, or how she’s eating, or if she’s happy – not about rivals and strangers to her that feel contempt for her parents but somehow translate that to hurting her.
“We’ll talk later,” her Nan promised her, swatting her bum and giving her a small push, “Go mingle with your family, they’re missing you. And find your parents, tell them to stop working and come pamper me, I haven’t seen either of them for more than ten minutes.”
She listens (her grandma is not someone you ignore orders from) and mingles. Y/N feels increasingly stupider for being so worried because really, nobody cares what she’s doing now, they mostly want to chat and reminisce over memories from years ago. She’s happy to listen, to laugh, to avoid any segues that might lead to delving into her life or opening a door where that might be a topic. Even if it was, she wondered if everyone just knew not to interrogate her – everyone is too worried about upsetting her parents to dig too deep into her shit. For all they know she could be doing under-the-cuff shit for them that nobody but she knew about (she isn’t but she could definitely could be – they aren’t above doing shifty things like that).
Eventually, she did find her parents and it was. . .as it always was. They almost seemed like they were mid-meeting, which she hadn’t known, but all talked among themselves and the several people sitting beneath the stone gazebo (besides the pond they had built, with fish swimming around in it and a small waterfall because of course they had that) once she appeared, “Hi,” she greets unceremoniously, “Nan says stop working and go dote over her.”
“Of course she did,” her mom smiled brightly, “Come here and hug me – where’d you get this dress? I love it, I’d be wearing that if I was just a few years younger.”
“Try a decade,” her father teased, reaching over to squeeze her arm, “How’s my girl, huh? You all,” he turned to the others, “Go ahead and socialize, we’ll spend some time with our daughter.”
They talk for a while, they’re the only ones inquiring about her life, and what she’s doing, and as she speaks it only then settles in her brain that they’ve got no clue. Y/N always imagines Thomas being puppeteer’d by her parents, doing as they say, but she forgets that for the most part, they do give him a fair amount of autonomy. Only relatively big notions (like her going to university) are discussed as a group. They do know that she’s being confined to her flat and they at least have the decency to appear like they feel bad.
“Once things settle,” her mum had patted her knee, “Things will be better, and you’ll be able to go out more. There’s. . .something going on right now, it’s better to air on the side of caution. Especially after what happened.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she doesn’t. . .she tries her best to though, from their perspective, “Figure it out quick though, I want to go loiter at a mall or something soon.”
She did end up telling them about her plan with art – after she told them about the art classes, which they seemed only vaguely aware of. Y/N went into it, about the cutesy drawings, about an online store, and they nod and say things like, “That sounds nice, Honey,” which is precisely what she expected. Something gentle, slightly dismissive, like they’re listening to a 12-year-old get overly enthused about her hobby. It was nice to talk about it with someone other than Harry though, even if she was certain they were only half listening.
Her mother is the one to bring Harry up, sipping from her glass of wine, “Hm? He’s your newest guard is he not? How’s it going?”
“It’s good,” she shrugged her shoulders, “He’s nice,” I kissed him the other week, “And he’s got two really cute cats that he brings over,” he slept in my bed the other night because I’m having horrible nightmares – do I look tired to you? Nan says I look tired, that’s probably why, “Yeah, it’s fine. Has he said anything?”
Her father cleared his throat, “From what Thomas has said, he does well at all aspects of his job,” he gave a tight-lipped smile, and there’s. . .a look there, in his face, that caught Y/N’s attention, “Which is always good to hear, when we’re trusting someone with you.”
“He does kind of remind me of someone,” her lips move before she can really think it through, bringing it up, but her dad’s disposition had changed ever so slightly – something that Y/N wouldn’t have noticed had she not been trying to read them the entire conversation, “I used to spend time with someone when I was little, who was named Harry. He just disappeared one day though.”
As soon as her mother opened her mouth to respond, her father cut her off, with a smooth, almost immediate precision, “Hm, I think I remember him,” he reached for his drink from the table, “But he and his family moved quite a while ago, I believe. There was a company in Australia I believe, that wanted to hire him. That is if I’m remembering correctly.”
Y/N thinks if her father had answered any other way, or even just slightly differently, she wouldn’t have questioned it. Maybe she would have finally given up, and let it go because even if she did know Harry from when she was younger he clearly didn’t want her to remember him for a reason. If she had anything else to do with her time, she probably wouldn’t have even cared that much to bring it up past asking Harry if she knew him from somewhere.
But it was weird how he’d answered her. It was too fast – and how do you think you remember somebody, but go on to explain they moved to Australia? Plus, from what Y/N has gathered through bits and pieces she hears from her guards and from what she remembered when she was little, people don’t just stop working for her parents. They don’t just go on their merry way unless they are exiled, and even then, the offense would have to be pretty minor to come out unscathed.
Once you’re in this world, you’re in it. There’s no dipping a toe in and deciding it’s too cold; the only option is to sink into it, down to the shoulders, and embrace it when the water lapping at your neck is finally warmer than the air blowing around above it.
“Ohh, okay,” she plays nice and dumb, smiling gently, “Well that settles that then. I was just wondering.”
The tension that had risen in his shoulders loosened, and he relaxed back in his chair, “Tell us more about this business you’d like to start – I know someone who specializes in marketing for start-ups and. . .”
It’s brushed under the rug because of course it is, and Y/N keeps chatting with them a healthy amount before excusing herself to the restroom. This is when her parents make their move to visit with her Nan (“What a joy it is to dote on your mother-in-law,” her mother sighed, grabbing her wine), so they split ways. Y/N does have to piss, that much is true, but she’ll also be taking a detour to the library, where the photo albums were kept. Nobody questions where she’s going or why she’s going there, but she does manage to narrowly avoid Thomas who would have definitely not trusted her when she told him she wasn’t doing anything to rouse suspicion.
The library, in comparison to the rest of the house, is actually one of the smaller rooms. She wondered if it was actually small or if the towering bookcases made it appear more compact than it was. On either side of the room, the walls were bookshelf-beside-bookshelf, filled to the brim with different novels, titles, hardbacks, and paperbacks (she doesn’t even think her parents are that into reading). Adjacent to the door, the wall is a window that reminded her of Edward’s room in Twilight, only this one was composed of bulletproof, thick glass and had large curtains that could be drawn if it was night. In the center of the room was a small couch, a coffee table, and a lamp (which has a very limited purpose when there’s a huge light fixture hanging from the ceiling that lights up the entire room as soon as it’s flicked on).
It takes her a moment to skim over different bindings until she finds the odd, large bindings of the photobooks. They aren’t labeled but she remembered that her mother, in all her perfectionist glory, had them color coded by years. Y/N knew that vibrant purples, blues, and greens were from a period starting with her birth so that’s where she starts. She pulled out all of them, bundled them in her arms, and went to the couch. Vaguely does Y/N remember a time when she was always posing for pictures whether she wanted to or not, and while it wasn’t necessarily either of her parents taking the picture – someone was. Thomas, any bodyguard, her Nan, uncles, aunts, and cousins if they were all together. So there are plenty of pictures to sift through, almost an annoying amount. She thinks she’ll be in here for hours.
Three photo albums in, she begins to lose hope. What was she even looking for? Some proof that Harry existed when she was little? Who was to say anyone had even taken a picture of them together in the first place? And for her parents to keep it, when one of them at the very least, was not interested in her knowing that he had existed in her life before a few months ago when he’d entered her flat, following close behind Niall? It was unlikely.
She nibbles at her thumbnail, heaving a sigh and almost irately flipping through pages now when she sees it.
When she sees him.
If Y/N had looked through it any quicker she would have missed it. A picture at the park, two children stood beside the obnoxiously bright blue tunnel slides: one of them was her, in a frilly pink sundress that had large yellow flowers printed all over the front, and jelly shoes she has a vague memory of regretting because the mulch from the ground kept scratching her. She had a big, front toothless grin, her head over-exaggerated in its tilt and one of her hands were held up like she was waving. Her arm was wrapped around a boy, just a little taller than her, who had awful cargo shorts you could only get away with wearing at 9 and a green shirt with a FIFA logo. His hair was brown, cut short, his eyes were light, she could tell, and he had two dimples just as she remembered. Looking at this photo, she knew for sure.
It was him.
That fucking liar.
She carefully slides the delicate paper from the plastic sheet and presses it off to the side, before continuing to flip through. One picture would be enough, she knew, but she wanted to build an arsenal of proof. He could try to explain away one picture, but not several. Not when she could tell the structure of his face, the way one side of his mouth has always pulled up higher when he smiled, the crinkles beside his eye when he grins.
Y/N is conflicted, about whether to be happy or upset or whatever she was feeling. She was happy that she had been right this whole time. She was irritated because he’d been lying to her and her dad just lied straight to her face, but she wondered for what reason it was important that she didn’t know. And she was confused, because. . .well, where the fuck had he gone? From at least four of the photo albums, she finds around five photos from each of them, up until she was around 10.
She’d worried a sore into the inside of her bottom lip biting at it with fretted teeth, and her forehead ached from the deep furrow she’d had the entire time she flicked through the albums. Y/N was ready to go home, but she knew she’d have to stay for a while longer.
Just as she was sliding the pictures into her purse, zipping it closed, the door of the library opened. She tenses until she realizes it’s Niall, who squints his eyes, “What are you doing in here?”
“Hiding and going down memory lane.” She dismisses him quickly, collecting the albums and walking them back to where she’d found them, “Have they started serving food yet? I’m fucking starving.”
“Watch your mouth, your Nan could be around any corner. She’s quiet on her feet,” he playfully scolded her, not probing any further into her reasonings for being in here, “That’s why I came to get you, the caterers finally have everything set up and I knew you’d fuss if I ate without you.”
She scoffed, “Thanks, and for the record, I don’t fuss, I hit.”
He pouted his mouth, rubbing his arm where she’d swatted him earlier, “Don’t I know it.”
. . .
Y/N loses her nerve.
For a while, she was riled up and ready for an argument (though she doubts Harry would actually argue with her); Harry was supposed to come to see her that night, so she had very little time to mentally prepare. But from that little time she did get, she’d prepared to let him walk in, sit down, then slam the pictures down on the table in front of him and demand answers. Like why he lied before, why her father lied today, and why he left in the first place. Does it matter? No, not necessarily, and she doesn’t think it would change how anything is right now, but at the end of the day, Y/N is nosy and confused and wants to know why everyone else is in on this and not her. Just like everything else in her life, she is kept in the dark, and she’d just been praising Harry for being the only one who ever kept her in the know, telling her more than anyone else.
And she thinks if it had been anyone else, she probably would have. If she had looked through those albums and seen a photo of Niall with her, she would have immediately thrown it at him and asked him what the fuck it was about.
Yet as soon as she saw Harry, who smiled brightly at her as he walked in, holding two strawberry shakes with a big grin on his face. . .she just couldn’t.
“I brought you a treat,” he told her, kicking the door shut with his foot, “It’s a celebration shake. Do you feel relieved having done it and gotten it over with?”
It almost felt silly, to think about doing it how she had planned. To show him the photos, like an I told you so! I’m right, you’re wrong, I did know you – it felt like a petulant way to approach the subject. And if there was a good reason that they didn’t want her to know. . .if there was any reason at all, really, why should she have to force his hand in telling her? To shove proof in his face, catch him off guard, guilt him into telling her. . .it just didn’t feel right. She wanted to know, and part of her felt she deserved to know, but maybe not like this.
She cleared her throat, and smiled gently, “Yeah,” she told him, “It wasn’t too bad.”
“See! I told you it’d be just fine,” he handed her the shake, “I’ll admit, I am jealous Niall got to go with you in that dress. It was adorable – you look so pretty when you’re all dressed up. Well, you’re pretty always, actually, but I do love dresses.”
Y/N feels her face warm, mouth pulled into a frown, “Don’t tease me,” she grumbled, pulling the straw of the shake between her lips, but she moves her legs out of the way for him to sit with her on the couch.
“I’m not teasing,” he defended himself, “Really, I think you’re pretty in whatever you feel comfortable in.”
Y/N nudged him with her foot, and let the words, I knew you when I was little, I have pictures – fizzle out in her throat. She wants to know – so badly does she want to know, but she just can’t give a reason why she would need to know. And she guesses part of her is a little scared that it might change things between them. There were a lot of things Y/N wanted but that wasn’t one of them; she’d like to keep getting closer to him, to keep looking at him and feeling safe, for that bubble of warmth and comfort to arise in her belly every time he stepped through the door.
She liked how things were now, so maybe she was okay not knowing. Not yet, at least. . .for a little while.
“Where’s your head at, hm?” Harry hums low, sweet, and soft; he’s in the usual attire, though the white button-up was loosened by a few buttons and the cuff links were undone. His suit pants were navy blue today, and he treated them with little care, his foot pulled up onto the couch, rolling the leg of the trousers up. He is turned to face her, the hand on his phone lowering so she had his full attention, “You seem far away.”
“Nowhere,” she lies easily, “I’m just sleepy.”
Harry gives her a smile – it’s gentle but still big, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of how her heart races when she witnesses it, dimples and all, “Liarrr,” he sing-songs, but uses his free hand to squeeze her calf over the pajama pants she’s wearing, “You can tell me when you’re ready if you want to talk about it,” his voice sinks into her muscles, melts them, “I’ll wait for you. Until then, I reckon we should watch that show. . .the new one with the zombies everyone is talking about?” He would have a good reason, right? Harry wouldn’t just lie to her. . .Harry doesn’t just lie.
Y/N nodded, her lips twitching up, “So you finally admit you want to see it,” she puffed a laugh from her chest, “After so vehemently denying that you’re interested in zombie shows at all!”
“To be fair, a lot of them can be shit!” He whined, “But I’ve seen a lot of good reviews, and I heard it’s about some mind-controlling fungus which is a slight deviation from other versions of the story. And legally, you can’t be mean to me because I’m so sweet and brought you a shake.”
She grabbed the remote, “You’re whiny.”
“I reckon I deserve to be the whiny one sometimes, you get to be 24/7.” He retorted and Y/N gasped, mouth falling open.
“I am not whiny!”
“Oh? Was that a whine I just heard?” When she huffs at him and starts turning her body away from him, he chuckles low, stopping her from twisting her body completely by laying a hand on her bicep, “C’mon, c’mon, I’m kidding.” He scoots to the other end of the couch, “Here, do you want to stretch out? I’m sure your feet must hurt after being in those shoes all day.”
Her response is to kick her feet up without hesitation, but she wiggles down so that they lay in his lap, “Will you rub them?” Because if he’s going to lie to her about knowing her and then suddenly return to her life as her bodyguard, she thinks she deserves a foot rub out of it at the very, absolute least.
“Ah,” he places one of her throw pillows in his lap, before delicately laying her foot on top of it, “You just want me here to dote on you.”
She nodded her head, “Correct.”
“Brat,” he digs his thumb into the sole of her foot anyway, just above her heel, “Get the show started or I’ll start tickling.”
Because it’s easy with Harry – it’s always been easy with Harry and that’s what she liked.
Why make it difficult?
Why bring it up?
. . .
The days go on as normal; eventually, they lessen their stringent rules on where she can and cannot go. It’s only a little bit, but she and Harry can finally return to their art classes, where Y/N found the excuse for their absence was they had taken a trip to Spain (she lies about how amazing the rooftop tour of Santiago de Compostela Cathedral is beautiful knowing full well she didn’t even know you could get tours on the rooftop). They returned just in time for a color theory lesson that goes from a fun grade school color wheel to something that melted her brain. By the end of it, it had turned into something so complex, even Harry seemed genuinely astonished by how deep into it they went.
“We’ll have to practice later,” he promised, “‘cos I’m going to forget everything she said after the first hour.”
Y/N goes to a brunch with her Nan, who – albeit reluctantly – lets Harry attend. Thomas was still hyper-aware of any possible danger (as he always is) and thought it would be dangerous for not only Y/N but her Nan (who has made plenty of enemies in her day) to be alone out and about together. Harry offered to sit at a separate table once he noticed her Nan’s displeasure but she waved the idea away, “Why should you be punished because I disagree with how they’re doing things? You’ll sit with us.”
If Y/N looked back on it, she thinks that Grandma always had a problem with how they raised Y/N. Very, very, very vaguely she has an indistinct and fuzzy memory of her scolding Y/N’s father, “This is no life to live,” she told him, “To force her in this house! To not even let her attend school? She needs friends outside of her cousins and a life. I didn’t raise you to be so stupid.” And Y/N thinks, relatively close to that, she’d been enrolled in a private school (though she moved around quite a bit following that).
It was nice to spend time with her, and she thinks – even without trying – Harry had managed to woo her Nan in about five minutes. If she let herself indulge, even just for a second, it was like having her boyfriend meet her family but she wipes the thought away as soon as it arises.
Because she’s been having a lot of thoughts like that; she’d begun labeling them her “senseless, delusional” moments where she even for a second considered having feelings for Harry. They started out infrequently, only every so often (especially when he did something particularly sweet) but with time they grew more recurrent. It seemed, like some sort of sick twist, that they came on stronger once she realized that she knew him from when they were little.
Which, Y/N thinks if she were more emotionally sound, the opposite would have occurred. She should be put off and repelled, but instead, she finds herself feeling more and more fond.
Now she notices things that she hadn’t before. All the little idiosyncrasies of hers that he remembered from childhood: how she liked jelly candies and her favorite flavors, the board games she used to play, the stuffies she always liked, the way she hated the sound of nails on a holographic picture, how she thinks the sandwich just tastes better when it’s cut diagonally. They were things that, for whatever reason, she never questioned why he knew before but now that she thought about it, it would be incredibly odd had he known them without knowing her.
And over time she just realizes that he brings the kind of comfort that only a childhood friend could bring. Familiarity, a tender warmth, the idea that someone still likes you even as you’ve grown and changed into the person you are today. Fundamentally, their relationship was always somewhat forced she guesses – their parents (or his parents and Thomas) probably arranged the first play date. And Thomas definitely arranged for him to be her bodyguard. They were compelled to be in the same space together, but enjoying their time with each other. . .that was them. Harry laughing at her jokes, the feeling that fizzles in her veins when his cheeks get pink, how excited she is to see him when it’s his night with her, the borderline domestic relationship she’s developed with his cats – all of that wasn’t arranged.
They were friends, Y/N truly believed that. They had been forever now, she guesses, if the decade-long gap in between was dissolved.
Y/N thumbs through the photos when she’s in her room at night, gnawing at her bottom lip, a zoetrope of memories flickering through her brain. Some things she recalls, some things she doesn’t, and she recalls feelings more than she does conversations or scenarios. She was always happy, she knew that, and she always felt like a normal kid with him. She could tell him things and they could play and things were good and normal.
She found herself wanting to kiss him more every day, which is a bit of a problem. They still hadn’t spoken about the first, logically they should do that before having a second, but the want for it itches beneath her skin. Y/N’s certain he had caught her staring at his mouth several times, probably more than she would like to admit, but he had never really brought it up before.
Until a random Thursday, at least, when she’d spent most of the day drawing and perfecting different sketches for the first round of stickers (she does a lot of random original cutesy drawings, then some that involve different tv shows and movies – people like to buy cute versions of characters they like, Y/N knows that because she does it all the time). Harry started talking about. . .something, Y/N couldn’t remember, but what she did remember was how his mouth went from forming around the word “apples” to smirking.
“You stare at my mouth an awful lot,” he taunted her, and Y/N. . .she was feeling more sensitive that day; less fiery than she usually was, so she tilted her head down and murmured an apology, “No, wait,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I was only kidding, Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize for anything.”
When she hummed and made no move to look back at him, she felt careful fingers on her chin, guiding her face toward him, “C’mon, Darling, don’t hide. It’s okay! You can look at my mouth all you want, lord knows I’m always looking at yours.”
Her face feels hot and she swallows thickly, “You’re looking at mine?”
“Mhm,” he hesitated for a moment, before the pad of his thumb grazed over her bottom lip, “More than I’d like to admit.”
“We could always,” she spoke against his petting thumb, “We could kiss again then if you want.”
He leaned in, moments from smearing his mouth against hers, but there was a knock at the door.
The pizza they ordered had come.
That was the closest they’d been to kissing again, but once Harry went to answer the door and sign for the food the moment had left them. Y/N is flustered, warm in her face, and has zero nerve to return where they had left off so she nudges him with her foot when he sits back beside her and calls him a wimp when he fusses over it. Things go back to normal – the same as they usually were.
(It was only later that night when she was alone in her bed when she felt inconceivably horny, did she remember that her period was coming. The weeks leading up to it always left her insatiable, sensitive in both her feelings and touch, and if she snuck her hand between her thighs to the thought of kissing him again, well that’s her own problem.)
The nightmares start to fade too, which is nice, though that means Harry spends less time in her room. He’d made a habit of sleeping beside her, or at least laying down near her until she fell asleep, and she’d always wake up the next morning alone. Though without fail, as soon as a dream seemed to sour, Harry was there at her side to wake her from it, always attentive, squeezing the shoulder he’d just been shaking, “S’just a dream, baby, you’re okay.” He’d calm her down, “Go back to bed.”
“Thank you, nightmare killer,” she would murmur, tongue feeling heavy in her mouth, and Harry would laugh, and she’d fall back asleep.
Things were nice, starting to feel a little normal again with the additive closeness she felt with Harry despite knowing what she did. She was starting to feel comfortable again, and not stuck inside all of the time, and she felt like she was getting somewhere with her drawings, growing closer and closer to being able to open her shop.
And then, one night, Harry is waking her up frantically.
Harry is not a frantic person – he is usually calm, collected, and measured. Y/N has never truly seen him in action but she’s sure he makes decisions with precision and tact that typically comes from years of experience, though she doesn’t think he’s been at this that long. He’s levelheaded and respectful and acts well under pressure – that makes him deadly.
So to see him urging her awake, moving quickly, telling her to, “Get up, we need to leave.” Makes her adrenalin spike and panic drip from her ears.
“What?” She was still foggy, disoriented – what time was it? Her clock says it’s three in the morning.
“We need to go,” he is reaching beneath her bed, dragging out a bag – her “Go” bag, is what she always called it, something Thomas had instructed her to make even when she was little. It was a duffel of clothes, toiletries, and things that would take too long to grab in the event she needed to leave an area quickly. She’d only ever had to grab it once before when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember why. Though now that she thinks about it, it seemed like it might have been close to the time that Harry had disappeared.
She doesn’t check her go bag often, beyond replacing the toiletries that may have lived past their shelf date, so she was also surprised to see Harry pull a gun from it. A gasp leaves her mouth, she’s still moving too slowly, trying to catch up with what’s happening as he’s fitting it into the holster, “Wait, what? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
He’s zipping the bag up, “Bill was fired –”
“What?”
“- and it got ugly, he shot at Martha. There’s reason to believe he’s on his way here.”
“But why –”
“There’s no time to explain everything,” he threw the duffle over his shoulder, “We need to leave.”
Her head is spinning, she knows she’s probably annoying him, but she can’t help but search for something to say, for a question to ask, to try and understand what was happening, if she was dreaming or not, if this was another nightmare, “What –”
This time Harry cuts her off by taking her face in his hands – he was still gentle, but she could sense the urgency, “I will explain as soon as we’re safe, I promise you, baby, but right now we need to leave okay? Get your phone but turn off the location. We’ll go down the back stairwell to the parking garage.” She still seems hesitant, confused, but Harry runs a thumb over her cheek, “Do you trust me?”
And she does. . .she trusts him implicity, more than she should, probably.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he replied quickly, “Come on.”
#WRITING#WOOOOO#YAHTZEEEE#OKAY#I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT :D#THIS IS A MEGA SLOW BURN IM SO SORRY#I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO BE#BUT YOU KNOW#EEEEEK#OKAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY#IT WAS FUN TO WRITE!#LOVE YOUUUU#WOOOOOOO
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Your Forever
Cha Hyun-su x reader
Synopsis: Hyun-soo didn’t know what home really was until he met her
He admires her as she smiles happily chatting away as she cooks dinner. He wanted to die, he couldn’t help the feeling either. But when he sees her smile all those thoughts go away.
You were always positive and happy even when things went downhill he would always see your comfort. He would wonder if you even get sad. When they first moved in Green Home Mansion Apartment.
She made it look like home if he lived alone he would’ve always eat Ramen and leave the place as it is. You made everything better.
He would remember the little dances you guys would do together in the living room or how you’ll always run your hands through his hair. Most times he’ll force your hand through his hair making you do it automatically.
Later that night before you know it, You were on his lap with his hands gripping your waist as you were making out with him. He needed to be inside you so he unzipped his pants before pulling off all the fabric and clothing off you.
You were already wet so he just slip in making you moan his name. He loved your sweet moans, He groaned as he continues to thrust into you. Until he came into you after you came.
A week went by and you been throwing up without Hyunsu knowledge. You knew you were pregnant so you avoided making meat for a couple of days.
Until everything went to shit when humans started to turn into monsters.
Your pregnant stomach was slightly showing but with Hyunsu clothes it was easy to hide. When you both went to save the kids the steroid monster came making you run off with the kids.
When the monster escaped hyunsu and was about to kill the kids a lady you didn’t recognize appeared.
“Don’t hurt the kids nor this pregnant young lady” A woman said getting in front of her with a stroller. You were shocked on how she knew, “Madam please let’s run” You said scared out of your mind while holding the two whimpering kids.
That was until Hyunsu showed up with two other people, as he carried the young boy and you held the young girl hand making it to the old man room.
He pulled you and you knew where this was going. “___ Your pregnant? Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve been with you instead of fighting” Hyunsu asked angry and sad about knowing last minute making you tear up.
“I was scared you weren’t want it, and I was gonna tell you until all this went to shit” You mumbled making Hyunsu hugged you tight before he bend down to feel your stomach.
“This is our forever huh?” he said making you hummed in agreement.
“They’re definitely gonna be our forever” you confirmed making hyunsu chuckle for the first time in hours.
“We’re going to get through this, i’ll do anything to keep you and this baby safe” He said promising himself and to you.
“I hope so” You said kissing his lips before putting your foreheads together.
If it was a girl you’ll name her Sunhye and for boy you’ll name him Taehoon. You thought long and hard about these names but you wanted to name them that because Sunhye was her mom middle name and Taehoon was because it was something unique for her.
You both held your stomach hoping this will just end and that the baby would be born in a happy world but they know that’s not possible.
Part 2
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we all know gojo is a girl dad for life, but what if he had a boy? do you have any more gojo dad hcs
we kind of know what kind of boy dad he would be from his relationship with megumi - very playful and teasing but also fiercely supportive and encouraging of him
with a son it’s easier for satoru to see himself in him, especially if he gets a lot of his physical features. this is terrifying for satoru - he’s determined that his baby boy gets a proper childhood full of the love and care that he never really got, being the heir to the gojo clan and having his cursed technique and whatnot
he’s determined for his son to choose his own path and encourages every interest he finds, pushes him to try every hobby, even from when he’s little and prefers one toy over another
LOVES to carry him around. he’ll do chores around the house with his baby boy in a sling. when you go out together you never need to bring the stroller because satoru wants to keep him in the carrier strapped to his chest (plus he likes the way people coo over it). you carried him for nine months, it’s the least your husband can do to show his gratitude
is not afraid to utterly embarrass himself and act a clown to make his baby boy laugh. like he’ll use his cursed technique to hover up to the ceiling and drop himself to the floor because it makes his son shriek with laughter. he doesn’t hesitate to act a fool in public either, like he will start singing in the middle of the restaurant you’re in if your baby looks even the slightest bit unhappy
he’s horribly mischievous and teaches his son to be the exact same way… they LOVE to pull pranks on you—silly harmless ones like hiding from you when you get home from work or jumpscaring you. things that make you just a little bit mad because satoru thinks you look adorable when you’re trying to be angry but simultaneously holding back your laughter
gets obsessed with dressing him as different kinds of animals when he’s a baby. i mean bear, cat, and bunny onesies and hats and sweaters. all the time. it’s dangerous for people’s hearts
lets him have too much candy all the time :( it makes you sooo angry but it’s not the baby’s fault he inherited his dad’s sweet tooth!
#unfortunately i don’t think about boy dad satoru enough to come up with more im so sorry#but i hope u like these anyway#꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader
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i LOVE LOVE LOVE your idea of post-bad end cassie sticking around to try fixing everything and befriending the ruined robots SOB. Do you have any headcanons for them in this setting?
oh boi DO I (post-bad end brainrot post here)
M.X.E.S and Helpi are BOTH sassy little bitches. They bicker at each other over things a lot like two geeky nerds. Unfortunately Cassie has to watch them bickering be it through the vanni mask or the implant. Sometimes either one or both of them ramble over something code/technology based to Cassie, essentially making her their "debuggy ducky".
They collect the Freddy-talk to make sure the Mimic can't use it again to trick Cassie again or trick future victims so easily with it. Cassie also claims Gregory's forgotten Glam Freddy backpack for herself for better inventory (and maybe anything useful inside if there's anything.) Finder's keepers, bitch.
After finding a blue spray paint can (many cans are seen abandoned through, having been used for the graffiti stuff,) Cassie uses it to paint Prototype Glamrock Freddy's endo claws blue, to match his casing hands a little. It's not much but boy does that make him feel fabulous! She does the same for Roxy's claws after finding a green one.
They find an usable old stroller to carry Monty. He's lowkey embarrassed, but he certainly prefers this accommodation over having to drag and crawl himself everywhere.
On their quest to reactivate the security nodes they all also keep on the look out for anything that could be used to fix one of them a little bit (like a spare arm for Chica or spare eye(s) for Roxy, things to help them fix Bonnie, anything that could help any of them.)
Speaking of, Chica donated one of her eyes to Roxy. One eye is better than none.
All the robots are equipped with some medical knowledge in case they had an emergency with patrons back in the PizzaPlex glory, especially the Daycare Attendant/Eclipse. They all try to help patch Cassie up from injuries caused by the elevator drop.
The mini Music Men follow Cassie like ducklings. They're also great at finding any goods due to fitting through cramped nookies and crannies and locate things the others wouldn't be able to reach due to being bigger.
Helpi and M.X.E.S seeing that Monty shrine through Cassie's point of view: "IS THAT MONTY'S FUCKING LEGS-"
You can bet they stop for a bit to play the Chica's Feeding Frenzy and Monty's Gator Golf arcades. They either take turns or gather around Cassie to watch her play and cheer her on it. Listen they all went through a LOT, they NEED a little harmless reprieve!
Roxy, Monty and Chica definitely still hold resentment towards Gregory for what he did against them in the past. They're also even madder at him now on Cassie's behalf after learning he sent the elevator plummeting down with her inside and trapping her, an indignation the others also share because "wtf bro what kind of friend does that shit???" The Daycare Attendant is mostly salty because Gregory's a RULE-BREAKER and his ass is still BANNED.
By the way, it doesn't really matter whether it was the real Gregory who betrayed Cassie or the Mimic putting up an act again. As far as they're all concerned, it was the real Gregory.
They pick up and collect plushies that are still in good condition (except ones that are child nodes in M.X.E.S' security, those only get hidden better.) Prototype Glamrock Freddy loves tucking a few plushies into his hatch, they feel soft inside! A few also get put inside Monty's stroller with him.
Despite M.X.E.S' hostility at Cassie back at the beginning, after understanding better why she was doing what she was doing, and watching her trying her hardest and giving it her all to make things better, it learned to hold a huge respect for the girl. The one thing M.X.E.S and Helpi agree with despite their bickering.
M.X.E.S: You're such a sassy little shit!
Helpi: Hey don't cuss! The kid can see it through the mask/implant!
M.X.E.S:
M.X.E.S: OH FUCK, I FORGOR!
Helpi: YOU DID IT AGAIN-!
Bonnie: Hey kiddo, you okay?
Cassie: Huh?
Roxy: Yeah, you looked spaced out.
Cassie: Oh, yeah I'm okay. M.X.E.S. just said "fuck".
The entire squad in the real world: HE WHAT-
#fnaf sb ruin spoilers#fnaf#fnaf sb#fnaf sb ruin#five nights at freddy's#five nights at freddys#five nights at freddy's security breach#five nights at freddys security breach#five nights at freddy's security breach ruin#five nights at freddys security breach ruin#cassie#roxanne wolf#glamrock freddy#montgomery gator#glamrock chica#prototype glamrock freddy#glamrock bonnie#mxes#helpi#headcanon#headcanons#jellycream answers#mxes and helpi share one braincell in cassie's mask
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ties that bind ; nanami kento ; march 14th.
pairing ; nanami kento x reader
drabble synopsis ; even the strongest sorcerers need to be saved sometimes.
themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married), parents au
warnings / includes ; gojo has no sense of boundaries, tiny hint of jealous nanami at the end, and all the jujutsu students are just chilling in this one :) can you tell i'm in desperate need of slice of life content, introduction to the other kids reader has with nanami! yuriko (born 2019), hiro (born 2020), and takara (born 2023)!
series masterlist.
14th march, 2024
With the cold remnants of winter fading into the soft blossoms of springtime, you and Nanami ventured out to the parks with the kids more often. This time, you’d brought the Jujutsu students along to enjoy the day as well—Yuji and Megumi were playing a rather competitive game of catch with a frisbee, Nobara and Maki were off buying ice cream from a cart vendor, and Toge and Yuta were leaned up against Panda, all soaking up the afternoon sun.
Nanami was by the playground, gently pushing Yuriko and Hiro, five and three respectively, on the low kiddie-swings with a small smile on his face. His lips were moving as he spoke to them, but you couldn’t hear from the bench you were sitting a few feet away. You were rocking a stroller, carrying your youngest daughter, Takara. Her soft hair, a shade somewhere between you and Nanami’s own heads, was pulled into a tufty bun, which threatened to come loose with the position she’d fallen asleep in.
Gojo had also invited himself to the excursion, currently sprawled out in the space beside you, having his third—or was it his fourth? You couldn’t quite remember—brightly-colored popsicle. The two of you had exchanged quite a few pleasantries, but mostly it was just him chatting away about his students and the missions they often frequented.
“I still don’t really understand,” you said, which made his head turn your way. “I can’t believe you actually teach these kids how to survive by dropping them in dangerous situations like that.”
The thought of your own children going on to learn in such a way made a shiver run down your back. Nanami would also surely pop a blood vessel if he thought about it for too long.
“They wouldn’t die,” Gojo responded easily. “Not on my watch, at least. I can save anyone. Anyone who wants to be saved, anyway.”
There was a distant tone to his words, but he was wearing a wide smile as he regarded you through his blindfolds.
“Hm…”
“Don’t be worried about them,” he reassured you. “Trust me, showing them the real world is the best way for them to learn.”
“I know,” you said, voice small. Your eyes darted to Yuji, who had leapt an incredible distance up in the air to snatch the frisbee Megumi had tossed. “I just worry for all of them so much. It’s like they’re all my kids too now, you know?”
Gojo licked a long stripe up his melting popsicle, humming. “They’re stronger than you think. Besides, they’ll always have each other.”
Your next words made Gojo freeze in place, tongue still stuck out flat over the popsicle.
“If you save everyone, who saves you?”
Gingerly, Gojo pulled away from the popsicle. He laughed then, but it was slight and hardly genuine.
“I don’t need to be saved,” replied the white-haired man. “I’m the strongest.”
That elicited a soft snort of amusement from you. You weren’t looking at him anymore—instead, facing your husband at the playground, who had taken to helping Hiro and Yuriko onto a see-saw. A fond smile graced the corner of your lips.
“Everyone needs to be saved at some point, Satoru. All we have is each other, in the end.”
There was a long silence as Gojo thoughtfully slurped up what was left on the popsicle stick. He was already itching for another.
He reached out to pinch at your cheek, ignoring your noise of surprise. “You’re so cute, you know. I’m so glad Nanami married you.” His words were high-pitched and crooned right into your ear.
“Ack—Gojo, stop!” You were laughing, nose wrinkled as you swatted at his hand.
Gojo had to pull away eventually, because he could feel your husband’s exasperated glare fall onto him. A second longer, and he figured Nanami would’ve pulled out that blunt blade of his.
#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento fanfiction#nanami kento x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento ff#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami fanfiction#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento drabbles#nanami kento imagines#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff
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Don't Go To Sleep, Don't Rest Your Head
Dad!RE6!Leon x F!Reader
This is a sequel to Holding Our Dreams As You Lie To Rest. Use of D/N for Daughter's Name.
Oh, how tiny his beloved daughter was; when all 7 pounds of her could fit snugly in the nook of his arm; when she could still sit on his broad shoulders and feel the sky beneath her tiny fingers, the only weight he proudly bore on shoulders that usually held humanity’s suffering; when she would be carried home in his arms whenever she grew tired from walking. He missed being able to hold the world in his arms, push her stroller, and help her with the laces of her shoes but she’s a big girl now, ready to take on life outside of the comforts of her home, beyond her father’s reach.
“Honey, call me if you need anything okay?” Leon repeats for the nth time that day, arms crossed as he looks over her things again.
“Yes dad, I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” she reiterates. Her smile boasts confidence, sure of herself that she can do this away from her comfort zone.
Leon’s heart squeezes a bit, the transition from “daddy” to simply “dad” making him feel a bit more sentimental though he swears it’s just him missing his little miracle before she’s even really left.
“Remember: no boys and no excessive drinking. Got it?” he sternly adds as he gently strokes her hair. Hair that reminded him of her mother in every way possible.
“Yes, dad. No boys and no drinking–”
“And no caving in to reckless behavior. Also, careful with sororities; they can do more harm than good. Find friends who are up to the standards you set for yourself,” Leon adds.
His daughter groans slightly before nodding, promising she won’t do any of the things Leon doesn’t want her to do.
“Dad, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, okay? I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m grown now. I’m perfectly capable of making sound decisions, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Nonsense, you’ll always be my little girl no matter what,” Leon retorts with a teasing grin as he practically fights the tears threatening to spill from his waterline, bringing her in for one last papa bear hug before sending her off to college. Though she won’t admit it, she knew that deep down she’ll always be his little girl; he would always be there for her– for every victory and for every frustration. Just yesterday Leon was guiding her hand in writing her name for the first time; life is certainly a fickle little thing.
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Not less than a few months later, Leon and his team are deployed for a mission. Leon’s faced plenty of outbreaks, always expecting the same outcome: mass casualty and the loss of members on his team but this mission unsettles him the most; the outbreak parameter encompasses where his daughter studies and currently lives in and judging from the intel provided by his superiors and news outlets, things are looking very grim for the inhabitants of that city. He’s tried phoning her multiple times and her signs of activity are short bursts, her responses being quick and short; many times she’s messaged that a call wouldn’t be safe because there’s “creatures” that react to even the faintest sound. The first time she sent that message, Leon immediately got up to pack his things and head to the headquarters to deploy himself into that mission, breaking his daughter’s rule on not letting him go on far missions. He swore to her mother that he would not let anything get to their daughter and he is bent on keeping this promise up, at the cost of his own life if this is how the situation plays out. Finally, their choppers arrive at the area and once again, everything is reminiscent of Raccoon City and Tall Oaks; cars littering the streets, burning fires scattered on the damp road, closed shops, and bloodied roads. Not a single noise can be heard and not a single sign of life can be detected; it doesn’t take dying to see Hell when you are standing right in the middle of the decay of a city, once bustling with life. Leon recognizes the place, spotting a signage with chipping paint nearby, displaying all the top locations in that city like malls, zoos, hospitals, and colleges. “Fuck, I’m only 15 minutes away from D/N.” he thinks. He contemplates moving to where her dorm is but he knows she’s smarter than that; she’s moved somewhere safer. He taught her after all, she learned from one of the best agents in the D.S.O. Mumbling a quick prayer, he reaches into his phone and tries to contact her number and prays that her ringtone doesn’t go off mid-escape. After waiting for a few minutes, she doesn’t pick up. Once more, his worry grows as he notices that she was last active 2 days ago. Their team is given instruction to start moving so they move, keeping their footfalls light and as muted as possible to avoid drawing attention to them.
Night fell and the sun rose, a warm glow cast over the shell of a city’s former glory. All night, Leon and his partner had walked around the place but not seeing any survivors, only more of the infected. Though they had wandered around the city almost all night long, there was a spot that they hadn’t gone to yet. Walking over to an abandoned apartment complex, Leon hears faint taps against a wall. The taps were rhythmic, an intentional beat created with each tap; soon, a hoarse voice calling for help could be heard, his heart lodging itself in his throat. Him and his partner split up, inspecting different floors before meeting up once again. He climbs the stairs, his heart feeling more like a ticking time bomb than an actual organ. He inspects each room, a keen eye not missing a single detail until he reaches an empty apartment with doors broken down.
“Dad!” He hears her, he hears his girl. His feet take him where he hears her voice, nothing else in the world mattering besides coming to her rescue and getting her out of that hellhole. He finally sees her and pulls her in for a hug, a hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as he presses kisses to the crown of her head. A part of him feels relieved to have found her still breathing but another part of him feels like a failure for exposing her to the world’s ugly side, a side he never dreamt of ever showing to her.
“Honey, a-are you alright?” he worriedly asks as he scans her up and down. Her clothes are torn and there's a bloody spot somewhere in her knee then he sees it: a fresh bite.
“D/N, we have to move now. There’s a vaccine that’s on trials right now and so far it’s doing good on tests so I’m going to have you vaccinated, okay? We’ll get out alive, you’ll be fine. Keep that bite covered for me, sweetie.”
He presses one more kiss against her forehead, not missing how cold she’s gotten and almost all color from her face disappearing. She looks at him through glossy eyes, nodding before wrapping her arm around his neck as he helps her out of the spot.
“I’ve located my daughter. She’s a survivor, send medical help.” he radioes.
“I’ve got you, sweetie. Stay strong, we got this right?” he softly asks with a weak grin.
“Y-yeah. W-we… do…” she mumbles, her response almost coming out in a whisper.
She doesn’t have much time left before the infection progresses; her temperature is dropping fast, her eyes are turning pinker with each moment, and her pulse is absolutely speeding so he does his best to urge her to hurry. Finally, they’re out of the building and near the extraction point.
He turns to face D/N to tell her that they’re almost there but is instead met with a low groan. A groan similar to that of the infected. One look at the greenish tinge to her skin is enough to tell him about his daughter’s current situation. D/N lifts her head up, cloudy irises zeroing in on Leon’s neck as the smell of death emanates from her bloodied mouth.
“D/N, please, hold on just a little longer– we’re almost there–” Leon persuaded her. He looked into her eyes again and saw a tiny flicker of his little girl flash on irises that grew even cloudier with each moment– scared and confused. She’s holding on, for his and her sake. She’s hanging by a thin thread but she knows she has her dad to pull her back up and deliver her from this hell; he’ll always protect her. Leon is not a man to break promises.
Despite being a few steps away from the extraction point, there isn’t a chopper or armored car in sight. D/N emits another low groan, this time much louder than earlier. With each movement of her mouth, he can hear the audible clicking of her jaw. She pulls away from him hastily, keeping her head away from his vision so he wouldn’t see the state of utter decay and decomposition her face is morphing into. The face, where her dearly departed mother lived through, is now morphing into a mass of bloody growths and putrid boils; it’s as if she’s defacing the face who carried her for a long nine months, a mockery of the love her father and mother shared. She felt immense guilt for failing to keep herself safe, putting her father into a state of more turmoil but she can’t stop it; no longer can she continue to keep the urge to dive in to a nice, warm neck at bay. Before she can get a chance to hold herself back and try to grapple with her humanity, a switch is turned. Gone is the sweet, loving, and saintly girl there was days ago.
“D/N? D/N, listen to me. Listen to my voice–” Leon says but his words are cut off when she pounces at him, teeth bared to try and yank out his innards.
Tears spill from his face, blurring his vision. How cruel must fate be that out of all the possibilities his little girl could make her exit from this world, this undignified death is what is set for her. His gun is right by his side and with a simple pull of a trigger, another infected is gone but this is not another infected, she’s his daughter. She’s his flesh and blood, the personification of two souls who loved in one. She is the parting gift of his Y/N, the maker of all his dreams. He can’t bring himself to take her out, though it’s the most merciful thing he can give her rather than have her linger for long in this form. He manages to push her away, sending her stumbling back. He reaches for his gun and keeps his finger trained on the trigger but he doesn’t pull; he can’t and doesn’t want to.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” is all he can say.
He knows that her mother is probably missing her, only having seen her grow from her place above and never actually having the chance to embrace her yet he couldn't help but grow a little selfish. Was it wrong for him to want her to stay alive? Was it wrong for him to have more time with the last thing keeping him going?
“I know you want to see our daughter but must you see her this soon? I want her around for just a little longer, honey. Can’t you do that? Can I be selfish for a bit?”, he silently pleads to her.
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“This letter for my precious flower D/N from her dear dad (and mom). Only read when moving out of our home to start your life away from me :) To my dear daughter, you were anticipated and cherished before we even saw you on a monitor. Ever since I held and raised you, these sensations only seemed to have grown a thousandfold. You are my precious D/N and before you grow before my eyes (as well as your mom in heaven), there’s things I want you to know: I love your mother very much. I am not a very prayerful man but I sincerely pray with all that I have that you will find someone who will treat you the way I treated you and your mother. It won’t matter if me and whoever you will love don’t get along in terms of interests but as long as they look at you with the twinkle of love in their eyes even when you’re doing something weird, I find comfort that I can entrust your heart to them. You never have to be alone and although there’s going to be times where I won’t get this “being a dad” thing right, I’m always doing my best for you.”
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D/N lunges towards him again and narrowly avoids her, moving out of her way as his mind grapples with one idea that seems most desirable in that moment.. D/N advances towards his direction again but he doesn’t move, craning his neck to expose more skin, in order to get a better bite. He shuts his eyes, sadly chuckling to himself. A family reunion doesn’t sound so bad. Somewhere nice, somewhere warm…
A rancid whiff of decay hits his nostril sharply, causing him to gag slightly but he keeps his neck still free for her to feast on. She bellows an ear-splitting screech but a gunshot follows after that. D/N’s zombified body falls limp against Leon but she’s still moving, shrieking. He sees his partner with his gun trained on his daughter’s head, the first shot of his being on her leg.
“This is my little girl! Don’t shoot! Don’t–”
A shot rings through the air, a ringing that will haunt him for the rest of his cursed life.
D/N finally falls limp, blood staining his gear as she lays motionless against his body. He sinks down, cradling her in his arms as he rocks her back and forth. Her body is curled up against him, just like when she was but a tiny baby. To Leon, she still is. Always was.
“My baby,” he mutters as he lets choked sobs free. He cries the hardest he’s ever done; he cries for himself, his daughter, his wife, his broken promises, for all the parents that have seen their child die in their arms. For the life his daughter never got to fully live out.
“My little D/N. Daddy’s here, daddy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now. You can rest my beautiful angel.”
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“You’re going to see a whole lot of interesting places and by now, you’ve figured that you and I are tiny things in a grand scheme of things; life is interesting not because of the comforts but because of the challenges, the experiences you get from these things. I’ve always hated being away from your mother when she was still pregnant with you but when I was out there, I thought about her and the beautiful little girl she’s carrying in her belly and suddenly I had a reason to live, to keep fighting. I had to do what I did so that the future you live in will be peaceful; you won’t have to be afraid of monsters under your bed or monsters in your closet. Know that even when you’re a big girl, it’s still okay to cry and it’s definitely okay to ask for help. Don’t push your emotions away and feel them; don’t resort to alcohol, trust me– you’re going to harm yourself and the people who care about you. Indulge in some fun, it won’t hurt to be happy but don’t indulge too much– too much of something is bad (just as too little of something).
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9 years ago.
D/N’s team was losing by 5 points, her team rattled and tense from all the pressure dawning in on them. It was kind of funny, seeing all these nine-year-olds faces go from smiles and giggles to knitted eyebrows and deep frowns. Everyone’s uniforms were dirty, dark soil staining every kid’s formerly white knee-socks, much to the dismay of some mothers on the benches tasked with laundry in their respective homes– not that Leon cared, he can always get his sweet daughter a new pair; all that matters is that she isn’t afraid to get a little sweaty and play rough.
By now, every parent invested in this game is standing up with their hands on their hips and heads tilted towards the scoreboard. The air feels electric, cheering and chanting from both sides growing louder with each passing moment. Then, a kid from the opposing team hits a home run and scores for her team which triggers the parents of the opposing team to express their joy at the success. D/N doesn’t look too disappointed but she doesn’t look too happy either, just very tired. Her eyes scan the crowd, looking for her dad. Chris had to send her to the game since Leon was still on a mission earlier on that day but luckily, he managed to get it done fast and zipped for the stadium. Finally she spots him, her dad waving at her from the benches and quickly making his way down the stairs and towards her with his arms opened wide.
“Daddy!” she beams. “You’re here!”
She drops her glove and rushes to him, her own little arms opened. He catches up to her, bending down to scoop her into a bone-crushingly, breath-stealing hug. Mud and bits of grass will probably stick on his navy blue polo, the mud drying up and causing a stubborn stain but he could not careless; what’s there to worry about when D/N is all smiles and pure happiness?
“Yeah, I’m here honey. I can’t miss your big game, just couldn’t do it,” he responds while still hugging her. He pulls away before taking out a towel from a bag he brought, wiping her sweaty forehead. Flyaways are everywhere in her braided hair, other smaller strands sticking to her forehead; some dust is also sticking to her flushed face but she looks ecstatic nevertheless.
“Daddy I lost!” she exclaims. Not a single trace of defeat is on her face– she doesn’t even look the least bit exhausted from all that running and catching.
“It’s okay, sweetpea. It’s alright, we’re all still very proud of you,” the “we” in question being her uncles, aunts, Leon, and Y/N.
“You did great out there, champ! You were absolutely speeding back there, you looked really cool!” he comments as he throws her two thumbs up. D/N’s eyes sparkle, chest puffing with confidence upon hearing from Leon about how well she performed in that game.
“Thanks, dad! But I’m really tired, my legs feel like jelly. Ice cream?” she suggests as she throws him the most soft-looking, puppy-dog eyes she can muster. The thing is, she didn’t need to do puppy eyes when he already planned to take her out for some celebratory sweets.
“Of course! Anything for my pro baseball player,” he responds. Standing back up, he puts the towel back in his bag and puts some alcohol in her hands. Taking her tinier ones in his, they make their way out of the field and into the car, where she’ll enjoy her sweet treat.
The loss of her team doesn’t matter when to Leon’s eyes, she will always be his big winner.
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“My hands are getting a little sore (sorry honey, I’m not the biggest fan of writing) and I’m running out of the most flowery words to say but basically, the main takeaways of this entire letter are simple: I love you, I’d do anything for you, and that I wish you would choose me to be your dad in every universe. In every twisted reality, in the next life and the lives after those, you would give me the highest honor of having you call me ‘dad’. Well, if I’m not going to be your dad then I guess the most I can contribute for you is that hopefully, you will have the most patient, kind, and understanding dad ever. He’ll be able to provide for you and your mother’s needs and will be willing to let down his life for the two of you, at any cost. Don’t worry though, I might watch over you as a tiny little firefly. That’s all and don’t you ever, ever, ever forget that you always have me and your mother and you’re always welcome home. All my love, your dad (and mom).”
NOTE - I finally finished this after 2 days of working!!!!!! It ended up a little longer than I intended it to so I'm a lil sorry for that... I'm not sure if you guys prefer medium-length fics to longer fics so just feel free to put your preferences in the comments :) Also this is my first RE6!Leon fic so yeah there's that!!!!!!! Gallagher from HSR kinda badd... like... he kinda hot... I don't play HSR but bro he looks so hot, they better make this man 46 like PLEASE. Anyways, that's it and thanks for reading my fics!!!!!! I <333 YOUUU
The chain dividers are from @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).
#leon kennedy#resident evil#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy#biohazard#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy x you#dad leon s kennedy#fluff#leon kennedy dad#leon x reader#angst#light angst#resident evil x reader#resident evil angst#resident evil 6#re6
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Trolls Human AU but it’s college student snack pack raising Tiny diamond as all of their kid when Guy Diamond finds himself with a child at the rope young age of 19.
The crew having a schedule of who watches Tiny at any given time on any given day. (It is extensive and color coded and Branch had a great time making it.)
Everyone explanding tiny diamonds repertoire of skills before he can even comprehend his own existence. Like.
Suki who holds a one year old Tiny on her lap while she works on mixes.
Cooper and D who switch off holding Tiny in one of those chest carrier things while they play DDR.
Poppy who will give Tiny a bag of scrap paper and tell him to make a picture inside it. (She doesn’t want to let him actually touch the paper, lest he ingest it.)
Branch who puts on science kids shows like Wild Kratts and Sid the Science Kid on the background while he and Poppy have Tiny so that he kid can start learning fun science stuff early.
Sati and Chenille who started by dressing up Tiny in their studio, but ended up just letting him use his creative guidance on them. (They hold him above a pile of fabric and whichever two he picks they have to make work as a garment.)
Biggie who has “tea parties” with Tiny and Dinkles (his cat) and is always trying to teach the baby proper table manners, it’s futile, for Tiny is a menace.
Smidge who teaches the baby to “work out”. (She actually owns a bunch of grip training baby toys that she hands him while she lifts weights.)
Barb who insists she doesn’t like babies but will happily take Tiny in for a night when needed, making little purée dinners for him and spoiling him rotten for the evening.
Legsly, who encourages Tiny to dance with her in her living room, gripping his hands and holding him up so they can “dance”.
Fuzzbert who is canonically mute and uses sign language to communicate in this universe, who loves to bring Tiny out to the park to experience nature with him, always mesmerized by the baby’s wonder at the clouds and the leaves. (Listen, I just like to imagine that Fuzzbert as someone who often finds themself unable to make themselves heard, quite enjoys the satisfaction of such a small child finding joy in the same things he does.)
Tiny who is very monkey-see monkey-do, and actually is a very well rounded kid after being raised by so many well rounded people who care about a love him.
When they’re together as a group, usually at game nights, they’ll make Tiny little “mocktails” aka, like, mango juice, so that he doesn’t feel left out while they all drink their drinks of choice.
Tiny is the most spoiled kid on earth because he has so many aunts and uncles willing to pitch in and get him whatever he wants.
Brozone and Viva also loving Tiny when they meet him one day while Branch and Poppy are in charge of him. Poppy has a little stroller with a sunshade, and Branch is happily carrying the baby bag so the stroller isn’t too heavy to push. At first, everyone’s mortified cause they thing that their baby siblings have gone off and had a whole baby without telling them, but they quickly notice the “Tiny Diamond” printed across the baby bag and realize it’s in fact their siblings’ close friend’s baby that they’ve heard so much about.
Viva making the kid candy necklaces only to be quickly shut down by Clay who explains that they’re a choking hazard, and they should not be given to a baby.
Bruce who has kids of his own and will invite Guy Diamond to drop Tiny off at his place when he and the rest of the snack pack want a night out.
JD who is terrified of children after how much he feels like he screwed up with Branch, but is still infatuated by the little boy and basically gives him anything he wants.
Floyd who mostly stays out of the way while the baby’s around but is the first to volunteer to put him down for a nap so that he can sing him a lullaby and rock him to sleep.
Branch and Poppy being very blush when old women tell them they have a “beautiful family” when they’re out and about, because while they do consider Tiny and all of their friends family, they know the older women mean something different.
Listen this AU is living rent free in my head. I have a timeline. I have a whole thing. I have backstories and modern world adaptations of trauma. It’s pretty fun.
#trolls band together#broppy#brozone#trolls#trolls world tour#queen poppy#trolls branch#guy diamond#tiny diamond#snackpack#trolls snack pack#trolls au#trolls human au
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All Treats For The Barzals
mat barzal x model!fem!reader
a visceral in doses blurb
warnings: alludes to sex
“Mommy! I want to go to this house please!!” Nolan shouts, already on his second sugar high.
It’s about 9 pm, on your final lap for trick or treating with Mat, you, and the kids. This year’s family costumes are Marvel superheroes. You’re dressed as black widow, a tight black suit, red hair and all. Mat is captain america, Nolan is Ironman, Angel is spiderman, and Sloane is spider-gwen, even though nobody will necessarily see her costume as she’s bundled up in her stroller. Angel passed about 30 minutes ago, also in the stroller.
“Are you sure you want to go in, it looks pretty scary,” Mat says to Nolan, adjusting him in his arms and wiping some of the sweat off Nolan’s forehead.
“Daddy, I’m so brave. Remember you tell me when I was scared of the monster under my bed,” Nolan rambles, hands on both of Mat’s cheeks to make sure he’s paying attention.
“You’re right, you are brave. Do you want me or mommy to take you?”
“Mommy’s turn!” You hand the stroller over to Mat, and take Nolan out of his arms.
The chills spreading over your body disappear when your husband’s hand lands on the small of your back. Even through the latex of your costume, you can feel his warmth.
“Make sure my little spiders stay warm, cap,” you whisper, sultry and softly, kissing his lips before you walk off with Nolan.
Mat lets out a deep sigh, hoping his hard on isn’t noticeable through his costume. He knew he was going to struggle the very first time you showed him your costume.
Angel’s cries break him out of his mental images of you spread out on your bed after he rips that costume off of you.
“Daddy, they had full size candy!” Nolan cheers once you both are back with Mat.
“He got really excited, almost ran himself into the side of the house,” you giggle.
“Wow, buddy, that’s so awesome. Are you going to share it with daddy?” Mat plays around, earning a small grimace from his mini me.
“Mommy said no candy for daddy,” Nolan states, holding or hiding behind your leg.
“Eh, did she? I guess I will have to have a conversation with her then,” Mat looks at you with a playful glare, making you smirk.
“What’s wrong with my little man,” you turn your attention to AJ, who’s cuddled up against Mat’s chest.
“He’s tired and cold.” You reach out to smooth your baby’s hair out, pressing a kiss to his head.
“I guess it’s time to go, sorry Nolie. It’s late, we have to get you all to bed,” you softly say to your oldest.
He looks up at you with that familiar Barzal pout, but you know that soon he’ll be the one cranky and tired.
“Sorry, my love. We have to go, c’mon, I’ll carry you the whole way,” he immediately leaps into your arms and settles against your body. He’d be out in no time.
“So, no candy for daddy, eh?” Mat comes up behind you, hands resting low on your hips.
You turn around, shushing him as you just put Sloane down in her crib. She’s sound asleep and you don’t need her daddy waking her up, especially because you still had to get ready for the team’s Halloween party.
It’s when you turn around that he finally notices that your costume is unzipped and hanging at your waist. Your chest is completely bare as you just got done breastfeeding your baby girl.
“You can have something sweet, just not candy,” you mutter, tossing your arms around his shoulders and kissing up his neck.
“Fuck, you’re such a tease,” he lets out a low guttural moan and you quiet him by pressing your lips to his.
You back him out of Sloane’s nursery and into your bedroom across the hall.
“I’m not teasing,” you say.
“We have to do our costume change and greet the babysitter,” he warns.
“30 minutes is all we need. As for being on time to the party, we can be a little late,” you say, simply taking off your costume and laying out on your bed.
a/n: This was rushed and I don’t necessarily like it, but I do hope y’all enjoy it!
#mat barzal#mat barzal fanfiction#mat barzal fic#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal blurb#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal fluff#mat barzal angst#mat barzal smut#nhl imagine#nhl fic#new york islanders#visceral in doses
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SP characters as dads pt 2
Warning!: All characters are over 18 unless stated otherwise
Background: You and your husband are first-time parents. In this fic you and Kenny. You and Butters. You and Clyde figure out how to be the best parents you can be.
Status: Request Open
Previous part
Next part
Kenny
You wake up when the baby starts crying. You groan and wake Kenny up making him roll out of bed. He hits the floor but gets up and goes to the nursery. When he came back in the room you were asleep. He tiptoes in holding the baby and gets into bed with the baby.
"Kenny" You groan. "You can't have Kai in bed with us we could squish him."
"Mommy ruined the fun," Kenny says to the baby.
"You're gonna ruin the soft spot on his head." You groan.
You kiss the baby making him coo and squirm closer to you. You look at Kenny and smirk making Kenny frown.
"Why does he like you more than me?" Kenny whines.
"Because I carried him for nine months," you say nuzzling Kai with your nose.
"Hey, I carried him in my balls for much longer than that." He jokes making you laugh.
You move the baby closer to him making the baby squirm away towards you again. You move closer to Kenny and put the baby in between you two.
"My favorite boys." You mutter drifting to sleep again.
Kenny stays awake watching you sleep peacefully as the baby gently touched your face. He moves the baby closer to him and Kai grabs his hair making himself happy. Kenny was about to take his hair out of his hands until he noticed how calm it made him and how closely he moved toward him.
"I love you so much," Kenny said about to kiss his head until Kai pulls his hair harder as he scooted towards you again.
Butters
You walk to the nursery seeing Butters dressing Bradley in bright yellow clothes and a big hat. You smile and walk inside and stand next to Butters looking down at Bradley who was cooing happily.
"You ready Honey?" You ask him.
"Sure am." He says picking Bradley up, nuzzling his nose into his cheek.
"You always dress him so well. He looks like a cute little bee." You see kissing his cheek.
"Do you mind if we leave the stroller I just want to carry him?" He says holding him tightly.
"Of course not baby. But you get tired you're out of luck~" You tease giving him a kiss on the cheek.
You three head out the door taking a nice walk through the neighborhood letting Bradley point at things and babble nonsense.
"glasjhde." Bradley babbled while pointing at some flowers on some bushes at the park.
"Yeah, Bradley those are flowers." Butters says slowly.
"fowe." Bradley responds.
"Oh my god, Leo he's saying words." You say excitedly.
Butters smiles and sits down on the grass with him giving him a flower from the bush. "Flower" Butters says slowly.
"Dada," Bradley says excitedly and giggles.
"No flowe-" Butters starts before realizing what Bradley had just said.
"Dada? Did you say, Dada?" He asks smiling brightly.
"He said, Dada!" You yell in excitement at your baby's first words.
"Dada! Mama!" Bradley yells giggling loudly.
"He said, Mama!" Butters says hugging you tightly.
You both hug Bradley making him giggle and grab onto Butter's shirt
Clyde
"Clyde baby can you change the baby she spilled some milk on herself!" You ask from the other room as you try to clean up the mess.
He comes in with a onesie and takes the baby from you drying her off. She coos and tries to reach for him. He smiles and takes off her wet onesie and tries to fit her inside the onesie he brought.
"Hey, babe I think some of her clothes shrunk in the wash," Clyde says noticing how small the onesie was for her.
You get up and look at the onesie and inspect it. You raise a brow and smile. "I don't think so baby I think Claire's just getting bigger."
Clyde's face drops and he looks down at Claire who was trying to get out of the tight onesie.
"Getting bigger?" Clyde repeats and you cringe knowing what was about to happen.
Clyde starts crying and drops to his knees. You sigh and go to grab another onesie. You come back seeing Clyde still crying now holding Claire closer.
"You're getting bigger you won't love me anymore." He says between sobs.
"Oh, Clyde calm down. She'll still love you she's just getting bigger." You say trying to take her from him.
Clyde steps back not letting you take her. He shakes his head and tries his best to stop crying.
"God Clyde you do this every 3 weeks. She can't stay small forever." You say finally taking her from his arms.
You start to dress her in the bigger onesie as Clyde calms down more and more. Clyde sniffles and hugs you from behind.
"You better now?" You ask him.
"Yes, I've come to terms with how big she's getting. I just wish it didn't have to happen so soon. I want her like this forever." Clyde says.
"I know." You say gently placing Claire down on the floor to play with her toys. "But she's gonna grow and it's a good thing, love."
"You're right god I feel so stupid crying about it." He says smiling at you and kissing your lips softly.
When you both look back at Claire you see her slowly standing up and walking toward Clyde. You gasp and start smiling brightly as your baby takes her first steps but when you look over at Clyde he was once again on the floor crying holding onto Claire tightly.
A/N: So you guys clearly loved the first one so here is part two for yall. Ik ik im amazing you're welcome. But fr thank you sm for reading. Let me know who should be in the next part. I love you all 🩷
#south park x reader#south park#south park clyde#clyde x reader#south park butters#butters leopold stotch#kenny mccormick#kenny mcormick x reader#fanfic
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𝄞 — zhongli (gn!reader) — ❝ two is better than one! ❞
summary: your calm, sensible, and handsome boyfriend wants to take your relationship to the next level, ready for slow intimate moments together, but what would you think if you saw what double digits he had like down under!
a/n: saw a lovely fanart of zhongli, gave me big idea for a fic and i love zhongli so much :)!
warnings: nsfw, mentions of double dick zhongli (LMAO), riding, doggy style(?), dom!zhongli, sub!reader this time, don't know what else, enjoy though!
You and ZHONGLI have been dating for a bit, slowly and surely you both grow more deeply in love than before, Hu Tao mentions how horrifyingly you both looked like a cheesy teen couple in highschool on their first date.
Shopping, or getting some coffins from imported land with you and ZHONGLI is a nightmare, Hu Tao quoted. Both of you often glancing at each other and growing red, then looking away from each other once more, all wanted is for you both to just get the damn coffins into the carriage and back to home sweet home!!
Although this may have ticked Hu Tao off about how cheesy it all was, and as much as it is cheesy, it's nice seeing you, her close friend, finally getting along with your obvious crush for a bit now, aka ZHONGLI.
Finally putting the coffins back into the parlor, and in display, you both finally get "kicked out for being too cheesy", aka Hu Tao saying enjoy your date tonight!
Strolling through the streets of Liyue, small stares at each stall. You both fonally decided on just a small snack at Third Round Knockout to end off the day. ZHONGLI surprisingly paid this time though (must be a special night hmmm?)
Finally crashing down on the bed in ZHONGLI's home. Lying down, so tired from everything (eating and putting a coffin in a stroller and arranging it for display) that happened today. "Beloved, today I would like to.." he clears his throat, "Take our relationship to another level. "-We've been together for quite some time, and we both know we can't spend eternity with each other forever." You sat up looking confused, "So, what's the surprise, sweetheart?" you asked.
He pins you down with his geo-scattered hands onto the bed frame. "I would like to be intimate with you, at least just once, if you would allow it my love?" He said, breathing a bit heavy, not so hard to carry though. "Sure, what could go wrong, right?" You giggled. ZHONGLI's breath slowly getting closer to your neck, biting it, marking you as his.
You moaned slightly, whimpering at the sudden bites, "Mmm, your neck is sensitive isn't it, honey?" he said muffled, but understandable, you nod in a bit of excitement. He bites a bit more and let's go. ZHONGLI lies himself down and lets you hover on top of him. (ok u both are naked at this point dont ask how) You turn your head to see his cock(s) (LMFAO), dripping with precum. "O-oh.. I kinda see you only wanna do this just now.." "You never fail to amuse me, love"
Inserting one of them up your hole, you whine as it struggled to fit. slowly riding him, you both moan out each other's names. hours go by, many rounds have taken place, you both are a mess, he has you hands pinned to the bedframe, fucking you senseless, slowly noticing the belly bulge forming in your stomach. "Feel that, babe? That's the mark. The mark that shows my ownership over you, got it?" Your fucked dumb hazy expression was enough for him, fucking into you more, "s' close again 'li, just a lil' m-more.." you moaned out about to cum for the last time, this time with ZHONGLI.
"Me too, honey. Just- haah.. just wait a little long- haah! longer baby." Hard thrusts went in and out, each getting harsher and faster. Both of you finally came, feeling his hot cum shoot up inside you. savoring this little intimate moments together.
"two is always better than one, no?"
i live and breathe for this man 🥰‼️
#genshin scenarios#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin drabbles#genshin fanfic#genshin impact scenarios#genshin headcanons#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x you#genshin smut#genshin x gn reader#genshin x you#zhongli x reader#zhongli smut#zhongli x you#♪ winter.writes
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i always thought of dilf geto suguru loving skin-to-skin contact with his newborn baby😔❤ with the twins by mama's bedside as she rests from the birth days ago while suguru, shirtless, sits at a chair nearby, lovingly cradling his baby, who only has a diaper and a cap, in his chest looking at his family with so much love in his eyes
dilf nanamin too....skin-to-skin contact with his baby in the nursery as mama rests in their room hhhhhh why arent they real :*(
"we're not having a baby," you tell him time and time again. and geto just chuckles then, getting lost in the smell of your shampoo, in the lingering perfume by the nape of your neck, arms encircling your waist, and just...accepting it as fact. he's content with this. he's already got two beautiful girls who call him by the name papa, so why should he want more. he doesn't. he's sure of it.
then he'd pull back, looking to where his forearm rests against your middle, bringing his palm down to your lower belly and kinda...feeling the space there. wishing and wishing, that tug in his chest calling out to him, urging him, "what if..." he whispers, words caught in his throat, unable to say the rest of that sentence for fear of what might come next. your reaction, your rejection...would be too hard to bear.
and you know what exactly it is because you've seen the way he lingers just a little bit longer inside you every time he finishes, eyes staring at what's not there. lost in a daze, in his own world imagining his release taking root with hands splayed across your womb. for a second picturing you full with his child, glowing and resting under warm blankets, burrowing in soft pillows, waddling around your kitchen in the middle of the night hoping to satisfy a craving. he'll stop at nothing to deliver, not even if he has to make a drive out or if he needs to pay extra for same-day shipping.
you'd smell so good, feel so soft...my wife, my wife, my wife—is pregnant. she's carrying my child. he won't stop saying it, he wants it so much... and he knows you've talked about it, you don't need to have a baby now, had agreed that your parenting days are yet to be over anyway. of course, you'd want a little baby made up of the two of you, but the thought of going through a pregnancy is a lot. or at least, just for now. "its for the best," you tell him while on your tip toes, leaning in to kiss the pout off his face, "besides, we could still make babies, isn't that the fun part?" so he'll swallow it down. you'll seduce him, and the both of you will forget about it for the time being.
but his want only grows stronger. you'd see it on his face, in the way he looks at the pamphlets at the nursery when he drops the girls off, at the squirming little bundles in incubators and carriers, newborns swaddled in pink and blue, he stares at strollers by a display window and when they cross him by on the street, his fingers caressing the wool straps of a onesie at a store as he sighs fondly. "how cute..." he mutters, in awe of the detail and the craftsmanship at work, olive greens and navy blues with the cutest embroidered stitches of flowers and woodland creatures, "this would keep him warm...a warm portable boy..." he chuckles to himself, doesn't even realize the things he says, or that he says it aloud, but your heart clenches at the thought...would it be so bad to give him another.
and maybe you should have seen it coming, but the two of you weren’t the most particular when it came to protection, and by the time winter arrives, your belly swells and so do your ankles. “this kid doesn’t move or make a sound, i think he’s only kicked once the past six months,” geto says from behind you, his hands feeling over your bump. and you sigh, leaning back into his hold, about to nod off into slumber when he feels so warm, so comfy, relieved when he takes some of the weight off in his arms, lifting your belly up and keeping it there.
“you’re just looking out for mama aren’t you?” you coo, hand over geto’s and at that very second, your baby kicks and you both feel it in your palms. “im thinking he’s a mama’s boy," he laughs, can’t stop caressing where his baby’s foot had been. grinning wide, you admit to him something you already know, “you're gonna be his favourite...i feel him responding to your voice more, and he'll be just like you…i bet you’d been a quiet baby yourself…”
he's not geto when he holds his baby for the first time. special grade curse user or villain extraordinaire, but suguru...just suguru holding a baby in his arms while he gingerly feels the fine hairs, fixing the little cap atop their head, watching as a tiny fist wraps around his one index finger. oh, his heartbeat pounds when they gurgle and fidget, pulse jumping with sudden fear, before he calms again, smiling, cooing at them, a steady lup-dup, lup-dup beats through the cotton, soft and constant against his palm, trailing up his fingers, and down his spine. a life he holds onto. a life he's made.
#its geto day!! heres a soft one...#3 feb is the best day of the year...sunny celebrates her bday and so does her husband#anw will probably post more throughout the day but soz anon for ignoring nanami i shall post him sometime in the future but for now#this is a geto girls only event if ur not a geto girl go home#sunpiece#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen hcs#geto suguru hcs#geto suguru fic
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being phillip graves’ significant other would include:
afab!reader (period mentioned)
thankyou for the ideas @itsohh >:3
♡ barbecues with the shadows.
not a common occurence enough to be called a tradition, but sometimes you do get to come along. it’s all inside jokes and military talk but most of them are very friendly and welcoming. it’s a little disarming to see how differently he carries himself when he’s with them, how the air of authority seems to hang around when he’s with them and disappears completely when he’s with you.
♡ yupyup’s
you pick it up immediately after hearing them use it.
“is the housekey with you?”
“yupyup!”
“…did you just say yupyup?”
he laughs about it and starts doing it around the house to answer your questions too.
♡ him taking pics of you as you sleep.
graves loves taking pics of you so he can stare at them when he’s away on missions and imagine he’s in bed with you back home. (based on @itsohh’s fanfic ‘candid’)
♡ merlin.
arthur brought him to one of the bbq’s strapped to his ass and you just stared at him bewildered. you’ve seen dogs in bags, dogs in strollers, dogs in papooses, but never in a tactical carrier. phillip offers to strap him to you and you end up feeding him snacks as you lug him around throughout the day (arthur is not happy about this and has yanked food out of his dog’s mouth when you’re not looking).
♡ tampons/pads.
he’s a very thoughtful guy, always having one ready for whoever needs it. you know you can count on him when you forget to bring spares.
♡ getting jumpscared at night.
phillip doesn’t turn on any lights when he goes to the bathroom or even when he makes snacks in the kitchen at night. some nights you’d be half asleep wanting to pee, only to see a dark figure by the toilet and you yell every time.
♡ expensive hair products.
you figured this out when you dropped his hair serum and the glass bottle shattered on the floor. so immediately you went to the store to replace it and found out it was sixty dollars. for a teensy weensy bottle. you decided to look at the conditioner he used and lmao that’s the fastest you’ve ever walked away from an item.
♡ forehead kisses.
whatever you’re doing, wherever you are, whenever it is, he’ll do it. you’re comparing two products at the supermarket? get kissed, idiot. you playing games on your phone? lmao gottem. showering? kissy time. taking a shit? you think that’ll stop him? think again.
#phillip graves x reader#graves x reader#call of duty imagines#call of duty#scuffed writing#yeah im technically back but for graves and graves only
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How Much?!?!
Im wide awake so I’m posting a quick blurb on this really funny TikTok trend I’ve been seeing. I feel like Jack would freak out 🤭
“Baby, can you help me with my hair?” Jack walked into the nursery, fresh out of the shower, his curls still wet. He took a sip from the can of Phocus in his hand. You looked behind you as you propped your phone up on the dresser. “Yes, I just need five minutes to film this TikTok video.”
You pressed record, backing up so your belly was in view as you stood next to a stroller. “Hey guys, it’s Y/N. I am officially eight months pregnant today so I thought I would show you guys some of the things we got for baby girl and her nursery.”
Jack walked out of frame, standing in the doorway, watching you as you recorded.
“The thing I’m most excited about is this $20,000 stroller that I picked out.“
“$20K?!?” Jack choked on his drink as he registered the price, sending him into a coughing fit. “Can you repeat that price again? I don’t think I heard you right.”
“Jack, I’m trying to record a video.” You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed at his interruption, before turning back to the camera. You hadn’t even spent close to that amount on the stroller, but you loved to see his blood pressure rise when you pranked him.
“I don’t care. What the hell is so special about that stroller that it costs that much money?” His voice raised an octave and you could see his face start to flush red with anger.
“Well, it has leather and you can change the seat so you can use it as the baby gets older. It’s really an investment piece.” You cleared your throat in hopes of stifling your laughter.
“At that price it better raise the baby too! We can save money on a nanny.” Jack tan his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing. “Why did you spend that much money on a stroller?”
“I’m sorry, it just really made me happy. I’ve been through so much, carrying your baby for the last eight months”, you sniffled, turning on the water works.
Jack’s face softened as he saw you grow upset. “Ok, don’t cry. If it makes you happy, then I don’t care what the price is.” He swallowed, hoping that he was convincing.
“Thank you, baby.” You puckered your lips, giving him a quick kiss.
“It really is a nice stroller.” Jack admitted, not sure if it was to reassure you or himself. “Everyone go out and buy Phocus, it’s going to fund my wife’s shopping habits.” Jack let out a humorless laugh, turning the can in front of the camera so the brand name was revealed.
“Ok, that’s enough. It was a joke, Jack.” He looked at you with narrowed eyes, not sure if he should believe you. “I can show you the receipt, I would never spend that much money on a stroller.” You chuckled, rubbing your belly.
“Not funny, mama. You know I don’t like saying no to you, but $20K is ridiculous for a stroller.” He walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I would never spend that much money on a stroller. Now $30K for this crib, that was worth every penny.” You giggled as Jack spit out his drink across the room.
#jack harlow#jackman thomas harlow#jackharlow#jack harlow x reader#jackman harlow#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow fluff#jack harlow fanfic
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